Jedi Insurgency 330

Before arriving at the venue, Corvus had sent Greedo Sr. off with a handful of credits, and told him he'd be in contact with him. As unlike his son-who died an inglorious death to Han shot first Solo-this guy was actually an accomplished bounty hunter. Canonically, he even died in a fight for control of Rodia. 

Whilst personally, he had a bit of a bias against Rodians, that didn't mean that he couldn't prop Greedo up as a future leader. One could never have too many allies in a galaxy spanning war. 

That said, it was time to secure himself a Pirate King. Turning himself invisible, he approached from the front, but thanks to his presence in the Force, was never crowded or bumped into. 

The venue for this Pazaak tournament was an old governor's mansion built in a style that reminded one of Pirates of the Caribbean. Given the humid climate, and frequent scattered rainfall on Merson, it definitely had that ‘faraway' pirate port vibe. 

And unlike Nar Shaddaa, which was an endless sea of concrete & brutalist architecture, this place with its all wooden aesthetic was quite pleasing to the eye. 

Vines looped around the mansion's pillars, and broad leaves crowded the roofline, beaded with rain, while lanterns made from the glassy shells of native beetles cast green light across the outside. Beyond the clearing, Merson’s forest breathed and clicked in the dark. Every so often, something large moved through the undergrowth and reminded the guests that there was more to this world than met the eye. 

At the center of the pavilion, beneath a banner stitched with the words: MERSON CROWN, FINALS TABLE, sat a polished slab of blackwood. The charter to Merson lay in a locked case inside it. One final Pazaak match would decide who held the claim. The original inheritors to the charter had been bought out or coerced by the Black Sun, and now all sorts of colorful characters had arrived. 

It appeared that the games had already begun, and he was too late to sign up. However, that was part of his plan from the start. As someone with ‘final boss’ aura, how could he make an appearance during the opening rounds? The mission this time wasn't only to help Hondo establish himself on a bigger stage, but also to rope these dissident characters under his banner. Since Maul & his Shadow Collective were no longer answering to him, Corvus needed to find alternate means of controlling the Underworld. Xizor was amazing at what he did, but Corvus would never fully trust him, and was always in search of back-ups. 

Speaking of the reptile, he consulted the data Xizor had forwarded earlier, and recalling some of his own nerdy knowledge, Corvus recognized a handful of the most impactful players at this tournament: 

Roland Durand. He was a green-skinned Devaronian with one horn cut off, and was full of ambition. His mother was a cutthroat gangster, and godmother to the Durand family. He tried to build his own position by taking Cid’s Parlor on Ord Mantell and partnering with the Pykes, but he was ultimately sidelined by mother dearest. His influence comes mainly from family backing and criminal connections, rather than an empire of his own. What Corvus saw was a child yearning to break free of his family's business, eager to prove himself, but failing at every turn. 

Nym. This one was an interesting character.  the strongest territorial and military power here. A large, imposing Feeorin with distinctive head tendrils & green skin, he looked sort of like a mix if Kit Fisto & Ayla Secura had a baby. He was a forceful pirate leader who lead the Lok Revenants-a rebel militia group-and seized the Lok system for himself. Owner of several military bases, and populist dictator of a loving population, he was swift, brutal, and fair in his methods. Controlling a powerful Legion-level fleet, he was a defacto Pirate King in his own right. His reach was substantial in the Karthakk region, although he was a local power rather than a galaxy-wide crime boss. With the death of so many Hutts, his ambitions had soared, and in Legends, Nym had been an ally of the Rebel Alliance. Although this team-up was rather one of convenience. 

Aged at over 200 years+, he was a true wild card. Someone who could build their power slowly like that over the decades couldn't be underestimated, especially to last as a pirate-dictator for so long. Corvus had a heavy distaste for pirates, but he could recognize & respect great men. Genghis Khan, Alexander, Saladinn, these men perpetuated great death & slaughter, yet were great. Nym was no different in his book, and could be a worthy collaborator. 

Jorj Car’das. This one was the best connected and most strategically minded operator. A young human man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a short beard, he was as inconspicuous as any other average looking guy. However, at such a young age, he built a major smuggling organization that moved both contraband and essential supplies; its network later became the foundation of Talon Karrde’s criminal empire. Car’das’s strongest asset was the reach of his organization and its information. 

Unfortunately, this Womp Rat was friends with Thrawn, and was in Corvus's opinion, one of the blue bastard's essential links to the Underworld. Whilst Corvus was still tempted to go full mask off with the Chiss, and murder him any chance he got, there were still the Vong threat lurking to make an attack 20-30 years from now. Not even Grandmaster Luke could easily deal with this threat. Call it a desire to collect talent, but Corvus was simply unwilling to burn every last bridge with Thrawn. Therefore, this friend of his-Jorj Car’das-could live today. However, if the opportunity presented itself, he might just kidnap the Human to hold as a bargaining chip. Rare, was it, that he could get his hands on something that might make Thrawn pause for a second or two. 

Vilmarh Grahrk (“Villie”): He was a slippery survivor, and adventurer. A red-skinned, horned Devaronian, he was a boastful smuggler and con artist whose talent was getting out of trouble, or making deals. Like a true devil, this jokester loved to make contracts that other people couldn't refuse. 

His main tangible asset was his custom ship, the Inferno, an absolute beast of a machine. Although its defense was lacking, it more than made up for it with extreme speed. Faster than a Jedi Starfighter, and sporting a custom built Class 0.8 hyperdrive, it could smuggle just about anything past an Imperial blockade. 

A daring smuggler like Villie was just the kind of talent the Rebel Alliance to Restore the Republic was in need of! 

Embo: Now this was the most dangerous individual organism at the tournament. A hulking Kyuzo, usually recognized by his broad, pan-shaped hat, this chalk grey-skinned alien gave off the vibes of a Chinese assassin from a wuxia story. Serious, and a professional killer, he was just a step below prime Boba Fett, or Cad Bane. 

He was a skilled bowcaster shot and could use that hat as both shield and thrown weapon. He worked solo or had been known to team up with Cad Bane, and Boba Fett. His ship, the Guillotine, made him a practical ‘Hero unit’ in any space battle, something that was becoming increasingly necessary in this conflict. 

Although Corvus wasn't really lacking in killers, the cache of this famous man would only serve to enhance his own banner. Besides, if he could rope Embo into becoming Hondo’s enforcer, that would be for the best. 

Reti: a useful pilot, mechanic, and go-between. A small Toydarian-only about 1.3 meters tall-with wings, a snout, and webbed feet, one could claim Reti was the cousin of Watto, and no one could say otherwise. He was talkative and nervous, but a competent salvage pilot with contacts around Naboo and Karthakk. His ship, the Zoomer, and his ties to Nym’s Revenants made him useful for scouting, transport, salvage, and information. He had no independent gang or territory, but owed a favor to Jango Fett. If Corvus could get Boba in a conference call, he was certain something could be arranged. 

And of course, the last two notable participants in this little get together were already fighting for the Jedi cause. 

Hondo Ohnaka needed no explanations. His faux drunk, humorous self was already mingling around every table making friends & enemies alike with his unique brand of charisma. 

The other person aligned with him was HK-51 J. When he had given the directive to go out into the galaxy, and further the goals of Revan, many of the HK's had gone on endless assassination missions. A rare few handful of them had interpreted those orders in a unique manner. HK-51 J had chosen to found his own bounty squad, and was gathering credits, information, and people for the god he worshipped. 

Roland Durand rubbed his single horn, and conspicuously stood beneath a light reflecting off his green skin. Flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth at the case holding the charter, his heart was full of unrealized ambition, and the way he looked like he might reach out, and try to take it then and there. 

“Want to make a deal? Whichever of us wins the tournament splits Merson 50/50.” Villie said with a grin at his fellow Dathomirian. 

“Just shuffle your cards and play. We're all busy people.” Nym snorted, his long green tendrils waved from side to side as if he was in a hurry. 

“Patience, my dearest dictator. Lok will not go anywhere.” Villie lightly laughed. 

“Patience is for the weak.” Nym declared, slamming a stack of chips down. “The last fool who tried to collect my title waited decades, only to die of old age in my dungeon.” 

“You're not fooling anyone with that act, Nym. You're the most patient one out of all of us at this gathering.” Jorj Car’das said, stroking his beard, and speaking softly. “Don't let him distract the rest of you that he has another fleet inbound.” 

Several people glanced sharply at the green alien, yet Nym didn't seem to care one bit that several hands had slowly reached for their blasters. 

“Just because the smuggler tells you something, you believe it is so? Heh. He hasn't even charged you for this information, and you treat it like those wide eyed youths swayed by the Empire or Republic's demagogues.” Nym stated with intense disdain. 

“Gentlemen, we are all friends here! Although, I must admit, it is a bit crowded with one too many Bantha sausages. Durand, Durand! Where is your beautiful mother?” Hondo ‘drunkenly' exclaimed, sloshing his drink onto the chest of the green-skinned Dathomirian. 

“Why, you!” Roland Durand snarled, rising from his seat, only to hurriedly sit back down once he noticed the mocking schadenfreude from everyone else, only belatedly realising Hondo had drawn & sheathed his blaster pistol in a staggering three seconds. That was two seconds faster than Roland's own cybernetics could move! 

“Statement: Endless dissatisfaction. Query: Meatbag, why were you not, as they say, ‘baited?” HK-51 J turned his photoreceptors onto the alien, and asked in disappointed confusion. 

The silent killer with the wide brimmed hat-Embo-merely glanced at the droid, feeling that he might have to fight at any second. 

“Eh heh heh heh!” The small Toydorian loudly laughed in joy at the cards in his hands, then suddenly shrunk his neck once he realized the entire venue had been dead silent a second ago. 

“Observation: There is a 62.5% chance Durand attempts to drown Reti the Trydorian in a toilet during intermission. Eager Resolution: Perhaps I might partake in this cultural experience.” HK-51 J stated, eagerly looking between the two aliens. 

Hondo put a hand to his chest. “That droid has been programmed to be so vile, aye!” 

Nym barked a laugh. “That’s the best thing you’ve said all night, bucket.”

“Statement: I shall treasure your approval, Captain Nym. Provocative Suggestion: Perhaps we could further discuss this in private? In a bathroom ideally.” 

Hondo leaned back, fanning his cards. “All this talk of murder, and no one is focusing on what they'll do once they win Merson! Come on, live a little!” 

Several players rolled their eyes in exasperation, whilst a few others took Hondo’s words to heart. 

“The war’s going to change every price in the Outer Rim.” Car’das said, turning his attention to the locked charter. “Merson’s position matters more than its timber or its mineral rights. Whoever controls the landing fields can tax the routes between three rebel ports and the Imperial patrol lanes.”

“You make it sound like a respectable investment. It’s a swamp with a charter.” Nym roughly scoffed. 

“A swamp with a private port, fresh water, a fuel depot,  and enough unclaimed jungle to lose a small army in.” Roland eagerly grinned as his imagination ran wild. 

“Or hide one.” Reti added.

Embo laid down his next card, and laid out a bone chilling whisper. “Or hide a body.”

“Yes, yes, claim ownership over an entire planet, and the first thing the professional killer think is hiding bodies in the woods. What a wonderful fetish!” Hondo cheerily exclaimed, his words were full of life, but the sarcasm could not be mistaken. 

Villie lifted his glass in salute. “And the fuel depot is for leaving quickly when someone discovers the body. Jokes aside, gentlemen, what we should truly be discussing is the Spice market. Which is what a sensible businessman does while the galaxy’s on fire. Kessel shipments are down, the Empire is seizing cargoes to increase their coffers, and every pirate with a half-decent hyperdrive thinks he can double his price.”

“How high?” Roland asked, seemingly tempted to smuggle Spice himself. 

“Depends on the week. Double by the end of the month. Triple if Vader starts inspecting the lanes himself.”

Hondo waved a hand as if to say he was full of Bantha shit. “Vader is busy chasing Jedi. He has no interest in Spice.”

“Vader has an interest in whatever happens to be in front of him…That is what makes him dangerous.” Jorj Car'das said in a dark tone, clearly having learned these secrets first hand, yet shooting the shit with the guys trading rumors. 

“And what about Revan? You’ve all heard the stories. Who wins if those two meet?” Nym leaned back, and shot Hondo a glance. 

The question drew a few smiles and more than a few glances from the hangers-on & other people watching the tourney. 

“Vader.” Embo the assassin grated out. 

“Revan.” Hondo confidently stated, and in no way did he glance at the killer droid to the side. 

HK-51 J’s head rotated toward them. “Analysis: a duel between Darth Vader and the Order Master would produce extensive property damage, several thousand fatalities, and a high probability that both parties would achieve a glorious result. 

“So you refuse to pick a winner?” Reti asked.

“Clarification: I predict that Revan would win if the contest involved strategy, deception, or a game of Pazaak. Darth Vader would win if the contest involved standing in a corridor and waiting for the other party to make a mistake.” HK-51 J said in a flat, if somewhat humorous tone. 

Hondo tapped his cards against the table. “Revan has the advantage of being a mystery. Mysteries are very persuasive, let Hondo tell you that from personal experience. Vader is really just Skywalker, an ultimately known quantity. My money is on Revan, naturally. I have always had excellent instincts about powerful people.”

“You had excellent instincts when you bet on me during the last competition we both attended?” Nym asked. “Because you lost that one, too.”

“I was supporting your ambitions.”

“You were supporting my drink tab.”

“Both can be true.” Hondo shrugged with a happy grin spreading from ear to ear. 

The laughter that followed ran out of air when Villie reached across the table and nudged a small pile of chips toward himself.

Reti’s hand covered them first. “Those are mine.”

Nym stood up so quickly that his chair tipped backward. His guards rose with him. One of Villie's companions reached under his coat. Roland’s hand moved closer to his own weapon. Around the pavilion, the tournament’s boisterous hum was reduced to pindrop silence. 

Hondo stood between the two offended parties with his arms spread wide. “My friends, please. We are all dignified representatives of the Underworld.”

“You’re a pirate.” Nym incredulously stated. 

“A dignified pirate.” Hondo nodded along. 

HK-51 J rose from his seat. A panel opened along his forearm with a clean mechanical snap. “Warning: The next participant to draw a weapon will be disassembled, and returned to sender.” 

“You see? We are all capable of compromise.” Hondo laughed everything off despite feeling a drop of sweat on his spine. 

Just as one of the guards couldn't maintain his nerve, and his shaky hand was about to accidentally discharge his weapon, he froze in place. 

Then the guards at the entrance stepped aside of their own accord. It didn't matter what faction that belonged to, everyone parted as if they were the Red Sea.

To everyone's eyes, what they were witnessing was heart wrenching excitement, and fear! 

A masked, white robed, lithe tall man slowly, and calmly bypassed the crowd, then sat himself down at the finals table. 

Order Master Revan had entered the building…and he was here for a game of Pazaak.