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    1. Triesa 6 yrs ago

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<Snipped quote by Triesa>

The problem with that is that Paradise is a neutral territory with harshly enforced rules. That said, no, they don't. I mean, no one really has a position at Paradise, it's a flying space hotel/resort/casino.


My apologies for not being too available yesterday. As Zarkun said, no one can really establish much of a foothold on Paradise. The Believers in particular are wary of Koren's ability to monitor the ship. That said, there are plenty of other locations we could use for such an event.


Oh I see. I'm willing to take it to a different location, yes. I'm new here and am open to advice.
I hope not. I just think its in a state of hiatus until Dark Light comes back.


makes sense
I'm wondering, do the Believers have a position at Paradise? I'm trying to form a plot line in which a shipment of Radda's sub-repeating blasters have been stolen, and possibly brought to paradise for terrorist acts. Just brainstorming here.
this rp dead or something?
am interested
@EliteCommander

Cool. Well I guess thats not outside my limits.
When he woke he felt pain all through his head and his energy was sapped . Trying to move was hard and stressful to even attempt, like walking up a steep hill backwards. Nothing but noise came from outside his window, and his CPU's hummed in white noise. Somewhere down the hallway a maintenance droid buzzed around, a door slammed up stairs, then a fit of laughter, followed by banter in some language Radda didn't understand. He had had all of the noise he could take, so as a solution he put on headphones and lurked around his office space like the dead, just bending and clawing and shuffling things- putting them in their right place, organizing files.

To his dismay, his query to find his cargo last night was unfruitful. It appeared that no shipment was sent to him and none were expected.. at least thats what the data said, so he broadened his search and called the Nar Shadda cargo company 24/hr help line. They told him they were sorry to report nothing could be found and that if it was something law enforcement would confiscate, they technically couldn't report it anyways. That seemed obvious to Radda, but he'd never be so stupid as to receive "hot" items without stashing them inside a pedestrian cargo. At last they said to Radda that he could leave his contact with them and they will reach him if anything comes in. That's when they asked him what his shipment was, and at that Radda paused for a long second feeling apprehensive and a bit defensive at the same time. The woman on the other side sensed his apprehension and told him in a rusty voice that this was only for insurance and his answer doesn't have to be written in stone. So Radda comes out with it and tells her "Durasteel AC units. They were supposed to come in on a bulk freighter early today."

A few hours, and two pots of coffee later, Radda is pulled between pacing around and paying out credits to a few of his underlings, and in turn briefing others with current bounties, all the while listening to the silence of his head phones. The headphones were corded so instead of it dropping to the ground to be tripped on, Radda wraps the cord around his shoulder and secures it with his armpit. The compression of the cord around his shoulder somehow helps calm him down when it tightens around him. Radda paces around finally into the bathroom to brush his teeth and have a look in the mirror. He's still wearing last nights clothes: a faded gray shirt with plenty of holes, a black leather jacket and a Naboo officers cap he found in a thrift store hanging on a single hook in the back collecting dust. His face is unkempt but under the dirt a good looking face lays beneath with cool gray eyes like enchanted ashes, looking deep into their own reflection.

Right then as he was rooting around the back of his molars with a string of floss, the com unit at his front door buzzed with an urgency that sounded like "Let me in!" Radda threw away the floss and sped to the door, hand reaching at his blaster, and eyes wide open now.

"Who's there, you gotta name?!" He says. Then finally presses the video screen on and he can see Karthata standing there shifting his weight from one leg to the other like he's got to piss.

Karthata looks into the camera and presses the coms audio pad. "It's me Radda, we need to talk, buzz me in."

"Yea... I can see that." Radda says back to the antsy trandoshan. He buzzes him in. "Come up."

By the time Karthata makes it to the door, Radda has taken a few swigs of whiskey from his flask and put away his headphones in a nest of its own cord. The trandoshan comes in and Radda offers him some coffee and has him sit before he makes him dizzy. It's hard for Radda to contain his anger right now. Right now he can only think about how fun it would be to strangle Karthata to death then drink the rest of his coffee. But these where just daydreams, he knew Karthata would best him in a fight.

Finally he gets what he wants out of the creature- the point of him being here. Karthata tells him the shipment was taken, pirates had gotten to it before ever hitting the bay. He couldn't identify what clan they might be from or what species they were, for they were all masked and well trained in sabotage. Before Radda could even ask, Karthata goes on.

"I lived, yes. They left me alive instead of risking killing one of their own. You see there were four of us, we were all well rested and fed from the night before we set off. We were expecting a clean run, none of us thought we'd be boarded.. but it happened. I think these pirates were pulling off planned, coordinated raids on specifically your freighters, and they seemed to know what they were looking for, and they found it-"

"Fuck."

"- Yes, somewhere in your web there will likely be a rat. "

"And you lived how?"

"Like I was saying, we weren't expecting trouble, but it came and knocked us pretty hard. Before they boarded they hit some of us with tear gas then stormed in, masks on, gunning down the first two ship hands who had happened to be playing cards in the cargo hull where they boarded. I heard the blasters go off from the upper deck so i ran to my cot and grabbed my blaster and came up to the cockpit to tell the pilot. He thought he needed a weapon so he foolishly left the cockpit to grab his own blaster. He got it, but he never came back. After a few dreadful moments I could hear a couple of the pirates outside the cockpit door, laughing and boasting at there take over, telling me to come out of hiding. It was tense, but then as a stroke of luck they backed away and left the ship damaged and bare, and spared me only because they expected I had a weapon and had the tactical advantage as far as I'm concerned."

"...We need to find that rat Karthata, and no, I haven't ruled you out yet. As of now, I'm halting all of my other shipments, and won't be needing you to escort them any further, at least until I get this situation under control yess? Looks like I 'm going after that cargo...those sub-repeaters aren't cheap."

Karthata stopped cold in mid-sip, looking up at Radda. "Going after the car-go?" The last word kind of fumbles out of his carnivorous mouth in two parts of bewilderment.

"Yes, I have tracking beacons equipped with every shipment I come to possess. Now get out of my place, I need to work!" Radda says with haste, then pulls out a cigarette, lights it and brings up both hands to his head rubbing at his temples, sitting forward in his big black chair mad and distressed.
Basically kind of. More of a space-based resort in an old Providence class ship.


So it's located on a massive ship then? Also since I might bring my char there, is it somewhere near Nar Shadda?
In Hello 6 yrs ago Forum: Introduce Yourself
Hi, I like your avatar.
Every time he needed to get a job done, something or someone always fell through. At least lately it's been this way, not to mention slow in his network of merchants. Its no secret that hanging around Kuzbar's drinking Nikta isn't going to make things move. But Radda needed to meet with Karthata to gain access to the cargo bay, and Karthata doesn't believe in holo-projectors even though he owns one- and apparently punctuality too, which means Radda could be in this cantina for a whole other hour, which means he's going to drink, which means he could definitely be passed out if Karthata ever gets here. So he waits, orders another drink and swivels around on his stool sitting anxiously at the bar counting each drink on the wall for no apparent reason.

Not too long after his eighth drink, Radda decides it best to leave now while he can still walk. He pays his tab and leaves Kuzbar's buzzed, and angry. Then he thinks of something, he goes back in and asks the bartender to relay a message to any Trandoshan named Karthata who might come in. Message reads: "Where the hell were you?! contact me as soon as you get this. Do not waste my time. -Radda."

The city surged around his boozy head with electric fury, occasionally stepping straight into puddles of sick watery mess steeped well with dirt, acids, and probably vomit. It wasn't like him to drink so much at one time. Yes he was considered an alcoholic, but he thought more of a classy alcoholic. He'd much rather stick to his flask, he'd had it since before he started bounty hunting, and it's seen double the use ever after. The thing was made of silver and gleamed smartly in the sunlight, ornate engravings could be seen in the light too. But what made this flask unique was a crater just off center, scarred with black lines all around it, which came from a blaster bolt just three years ago. It was a close scrape, and Radda would count himself lucky to have escaped with his life that day. A lucky flask indeed. It remained in his left breast pocket always unless in use. His hand, dirty and shaking reaches up absentmindedly to his flask in pocket- then his left hand grabs his right wrist and forces it down. "What am I doing?! he thinks in utter upset. Right foot, left foot, right foot- he staggers down the streets in disarray with his right hand resting expectantly somewhere in the middle of his chest.

Radda soon decides he needs to eat something and rid Karthata's inept ways from his mind, then hail down a airspeeder for the rest of the way home. He comes up to the counter of a street stall stationed in one of the busier spots of town. blue and pink neon floods into the muddy streets, creating a color for the dank air you breathe all over this dreary planet. It does help to be eating the fine red noodles and drinking the broth of a fresh prepared meal. Some of Radda's anxiety fades and his head stops swimming, leaving a greater loathing for Karthata- bringing him so close to cutting him out of all future business he nearly chokes on his food at the thought of not receiving his sub-repeating blasters. At Radda's sudden lurch into his bowel, the cook- a Quarren dressed in tattered cloth, wipes up the counter near Radda then addresses him in basic

"I hope you don't mind me saying sir, but you don't strike me as the drinking type, but then again Nar Shadda's full of drunks of all sorts so really what do I know...?" The Quarren trails off into some queer string of verbs as he goes back to wiping.

"Yeah...?!" Radda spits. "You're right, what do you know?"

"I know your food is 16 creds." The Quarren says with an open hand. "Let's have it, before you pass out would be best."

To that Radda delivers the creds and drinks down the broth complete with a loud "slurp!" then slides off the stool to compose himself before getting an airspeeder to his office. The whole day Radda had been eating himself up inside for being so foolish, drinking like he was, it showed great disregard for the many dangers a person like himself could be facing at any one time on Nar Shadda- or anywhere. His eyes should always be on the back of his head and on his trigger. Trouble had followed him throughout the outer rim, and it will follow again. How much was he going to risk? He's known as the hunter, not the hunted... but accidents do happen.

The cold durasteel walls of the office shined in the many lights coming in from the gesticulating greater metropolis through the window. Once closing the door to block the world from his special place of business, he feels a strong sense of power wash over him as he comes over and stands at his coffee machine pulling a cup from it, sipping and sobering himself. He thinks in silence in near dark, seeing the face of Karthata, imagining a laser bolt passing between his eyes. "What's the difference, Trandoshan's all look the same."

Radda drinks down his coffee and boots up his CPU's in hopes that he can access Nar Shadda's central cargo bay database so he can find out if his shipment even made it at all.

Radda stayed at work well into the early morning...
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