"Trouble"

Posted on Tue Feb 27th, 2018 @ 5:06pm by Zrad Rezer† & Nala Sao & Sev Rezer & Klav Thurn & Mentis & Trey†
Edited on on Wed Feb 28th, 2018 @ 12:50am

2,167 words; about a 11 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Throne Room, Jericho
Timeline: After Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it... Gra'tua

OLD

"Trouble?" Nala offered Zrad even as she stood slowly, the words empty even as they shot through the noise growing in the room. Her eyes watched Zrad's now helm-shadowed face with keen eyes, even as something just under the surface of her skin fluttered briefly, like the beating of a heart, struggling back to life. Silently, she flexed her senses, outward. If any of her cult brothers felt anything, she would soon know.

If her Nautolan instincts were anything to go by, Nala suspected that pleasantries had come to an end.

With the clicking of rifles and indicative thrumming of vibroblades whirring to life coming from behind the cultists, Nala's suspicions were proven true.

NEW

"You will of course remember the fine folk in Grogga the Hutt's employ?" Zrad declared sickly-merrily, booming voice garbled by his helmet as a gauntleted hand stretched out to announce the newcomers now flanking Axion's followers from behind. With their arrival, each of the Exiles stationed along the balconies had trained their weapons on both them and the feasting cultists. Similarly, the arrivals, a plethora of aliens adorned with a variety of weapons and trophies, made for a sight as impressive, albeit more disorganised, than their Mandalorian hosts.

Diminutive and one-eyed, the Sullustan at their fore bore a gun almost as large he was. Dewflaps slick with sweat from Jericho's humid environment, the scarred Near-Human seemed to pay no heed to the small army now training their weapons on him and his men, nor did he pay any mind to the undersized rancor grumbling in its cage.

Indeed, if anything, the Sullustan seemed cheery in the presence of Zrad and his many minions, marching with confident ease to one of the chairs at the cultists' table, spinning it around and perching himself on its edge. At his side, a large Weequay, his armour a peculiar marriage of leather and misshaped metal, came to stand. Despite a small mouth, large scars leading upwards from either corner gave the disturbing image of a permanent smile - known to some as a Coronet smile, although it was known by a variety of names across the galaxy. Regardless, the Weequay was not, in actual fact, smiling.

After a small, and seemingly frustrating, struggle to remove his sidearm from its holster and drop it heavily on the ancient metal table, the Sullustan looked up at Zrad, adorned as he was head-to-toe with his battle-scarred Mandalorian armour. After slipping a morsel of suspicious-looking green meat into his mouth, he soon began chattering casually in his native tongue.

Stepping forward, the Weequay translated in gruff, almost unintelligible Basic: "On behalf of Grogga the Hutt, Miun the Mighty bids thanks to Zrad Rezer and his brothers for their hospitality and good graces, but wonders why it is that he has so many soldiers so well-placed to greet him?"

The Weequay paused to allow Miun 'the Mighty' to carry on babbling, although the Sullustan was now using one of the dirtied knives left strewn upon the table to pick debris from beneath his yellowed and flat fingernails.

"Miun the Mighty thinks, perhaps, that Zrad is thinking to make a grand show in front of his little cousin, who Miun the Mighty understands has recently parted ways with his fine bounty hunter ilk to take up the banner of the True Mandalorians?" The Weequay paused again, huffing slightly before continuing. "Miun the Mighty also wonders if that is why Sev betrayed and stole from Grogga on Nar Shaddaa?"

Sev, very slowly and deliberately picked the knife he had on his hip and started playing with. "If I were you, I would watch my next few words carefully, Miun. Grogga planned to betray me first and I took for myself to beat him to it. I lost no honor by cutting ties with a liar.

Having yet to be acknowledged by the newcomers, the Dark Jedi present stood on edge watching the uneasy discussion between Mandalorian and Mercenary. Mentis had already brought a pale hand to the lightsaber on his hip so that it could be brought forth at a moment's notice. While this 'Mighty' Miun currently questioned Sev on his actions, it would not be long before blame for Grogga's losses was thrown towards Axion's followers, given how it was their master that had choked the old slug before promptly blasting through his ceiling to escape.

His fellow cultist and rival Trey inched closer to him and gave him an uncomfortable nudge to his left shoulder, "Hey Mentis," he whispered, speaking to the Rattataki but eyeing Nala as he did so, "What do you think makes this 'Mighty' guy so mighty? He's kinda' pathetic."

He smirked like a naughty infant, adding, "He reminds me of you,"

Snapping, Mentis shot his left hand out to catch Trey's throat. But his untempered spike of anger betrayed his action and Trey effortlessly caught his hand in mid-air. Pleased that he had evoked a reaction, Trey's smile grew wider, baring his teeth, revealing a piece of Zrad's feast still caught between two incisors.

Before anyone could react to the outburst, the sound of a distant explosion and the resulting shock-wave through the station sent everyone in the room into confusion.

"Oritsir!" Zrad bellowed through his scorched blue helmet, his hulking mass having barely shifted with the rumbling through the station, and the
various different groups began to look to each other accusingly as a low-tone alarm began to sound.

Several of the Mandalorians who had already began to arm themselves raised their rifles and swords, pointing them variably at the cultists and the Cartel footsoldiers. Those whose faces were unmasked offered a variety of expressions, but nearly all exposed yellowed teeth, far too many of which sported gaps of varying sizes of degrees of decay.

"Aruetiise!" The Exile leader called. "Treachery!" The Rezer beskad glinted dully in his armoured hand as he raised it, its blade first pointed directly at the wobbling jowls of the Sullustan, before setting its metallic gaze on the cultists and even his own warriors. Behind him, Klav Thurn could be seen to cock his head ever-so-slightly, a grand gesture for the thus-far stoic second to Zrad, and an onlooker could be forgiven for thinking his gaze rested on Zrad for as long as did Sev, but no hint of panic was betrayed in his fluid, military movements.

Nala had also leaped up from her place at the grimy table, the elegant hilt of her lightsaber having deftly found its way from her belt into her slender, green hands. With her other hand, the tress-like drapes of her tight leather robes sweeping about, she gestured backwards towards her fellow cultists, much like a kinrath matriarch defending her brood, and they both stood up in solidarity - although Trey a few laborious seconds later.

The red hue of Nala's bulbous eyes shone more brilliantly as anger took her, and that familiar wave she had felt before flooded through her, almost making her shudder, the feeling not unlike the delicate caressing of a long-lost lover - not that any of her lovers yet lived to tell of such exploits.

Not one to miss the finer details, unlike her seemingly mentally-challenged brethren, Axion's favoured apprentice had seen the small cues from the Rezer cousins, especially from the younger one, a man she had seen the truth of in their previous dalliances. Resentment had been bubbling in that one's veins in every moment he shared a room with the lumbering beast that was his kin.

It was both sickening and delightful - and it made plainer the real truth behind this stand-off Zrad had clearly manufactured, and so arrogantly thought he had command of. Despite it all, Miun the Mighty seemed to be paying little heed to either the explosion or the growing tension in the room, and was already helping himself to more rancid meat that was on offer, particularly as the previous owners were now distracted.

"My Lord Zrad," she purred sickly-sweetly, her tone as seductive as ever, just as the magenta blade of her lightsaber thrummed to life, casting an eerie pallor to her already-pale skin. "It is a poor leader whom cannot see the treachery plain beneath his visor." She swished the blade artfully, Mandalorians and Hutt goons alike gripping their weapons tightly as their own eyes darted between all the foes about them. Zrad appeared to show no reaction to the apparent restoration of Nala's confidences and talents, but his helmet arched slightly towards his cousin, expectant.

"Looks who's talking about treachery, Sith. Your kind breathes lies and sweats treason. I'm having the courtesy not to kill you where stand out of respect of my cousin here. It would quite a mess to turn you it ash." Very carefully, Sev put his hand on his gun. "If Zrad allow me, I will shoot you before you can raise your tiny lightsaber."

A low growl could be heard echoing within Zrad's aged helmet, but it was cut short by the high-pitched chuckling of the diminutive Sullustan who occupied a chair between the Exile leader the trio of Dark Jedi. Even the Weequay minder, with his mangled permanent smile, could be seen to be giving nervous looks to his 'mighty' leader as he warbled, the lone source of noise in the great throne room, aside from the ever-present creaking of Jericho's ancient machinery and the gentle humming of Nala's lightsaber (which was, understandably, garnering the most attention from the locals).

His gaze set clearly on the Hutt enforcer, Zrad barely moved an inch closer to him when a stream of Sullustese launched forth from the man's dewflaps, all whilst he continued gnawing away at the elongated bone of some unknown beast an Exile presumably slayed for the feast. As he spoke, little lumps of flesh jumping out of Miun's mouth as he did, the Sullustan's amusement was plain to hear. When finally he did cease, one black, beady eye found Zrad's within his visor, before he added one final word, flicking the now-naked bone away.

The Weequay's expression had turned to one of horror, and his ashen skin seemed turn greyer yet. A few of the Exiles and Cartel soldiers who could understand Sullustese shared a few glances and shifted uncomfortable, their sights settling on Zrad and his next move.

"What... did he say...?" Zrad rumbled, taking one heavy, thundering step towards the Weequay.

"He, uh... he said..." The Weequay gulped, and shot a glance back to a large Rodian enforcer in their party, armed as he was with a heavy repeater, before looking back to (and failing to maintain eye contact with) the elder Rezer. "Miun the Mighty said," he corrected quickly when the Sullustan thumped a tiny hand on the table, "-said that he thinks the brave and mighty Zrad may not be so brave and mighty... th-hat... Miun the Mighty, in his wisdom, suggests that Zrad Rezer may have brought us all here under false pretenses, and that Clan Rezer would seem to be a, uh, family of- of-"

Zrad grabbed the Weequay by his throat with his free hand, his grip tightening. Immediately, all of the Cartel goons and all of Zrad's men raised their guns and swords at one another, the Dark Jedi still lingering at the centre of it all, with Sev and Thurn poised and ready at either side of the would-be Mandalore. "Of... what?"

"Of," he choked, "liars and mummers."

A silence lingered for a moment, every set of eyes on Zrad and his vice-like grip on the alien's constricted throat. "Do you know what else we are?" He asked rhetorically, his helmet almost touching the nose of the increasingly-struggling Weequay. "Killers." And with that, he swung the Rezer beskad around and plunged it up through the Weequay's chin, blood shooting out of the man's head and splattering it all over Zrad's helmet. In the same movement, he slipped the blade out and threw the body onto Miun. Raising the beskad above his head, slick blood dripping off its blade, he roared, "Jii, kyr'amur anay aru'ela!"

Kill them all.

It was only Sev suddenly raising his voice, shrugging at Zrad's words, that halted the Exiles from leaping upon their quarry. "That, cousin, is the first thing we agree on. But first, family business. You're not fit to be a warparty's leader. I watched the way you behave, and you lost your honor, your sense of duty with your own."

Even through his bloodied visor, the broadening of his shoulders and his tightening grip gave away the truth of Zrad's hateful stare, just as Sev finally let slip the mask he had practised so perfectly with the Dromachean woman and bared his teeth for the elder Rezer. There he was, much like the ancient mythosaur, at last challenging his hated elder.

"I challenge you."

TBC

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