This is the start of the In Character channel for The Emperor’s Halo campaign.
Out of character channel:
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Rasad’s rent was nearly due. In the underbelly of Coruscant life was difficult, and one was lucky to have housing at all. No work had come his way of late, and he was afraid that valuable housing of his wouldn’t stay his for much longer.
As he returned from a day of fruitless job hunting, he noticed a comm in his small apartment. It wasn’t his. He quickly searched his apartment for bugs, or signs that someone else had been here. There were none.
After he had finished inspecting, on the strike of the hour, a hologram appeared, displaying a cloaked figure. The face was obscured by the mask, but if Rasad investigated further, it was clear that the figure wasn’t human.
“Greetings, Rasad. I am in need of a team. Near here is a highly secured vault. Inside are many credits, enough to purchase a small moon for yourself. Inside is also an artifact. I want the artifact, and I suspect you wouldn’t be averse to that many credits.”
The hologram pauses.
“I’m willing to fund your operation. When you and whatever team you put together gets into the vault and steals the contents, you get everything in that vault except that artifact and the total expenses of the operation. Are you up for it?”
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On even the best of days view would accuse Rasad of being a friendly fellow. These times none would confuse as being the best of times. People were actively trying to avoid him now in the hallways of his this building. Children scrambled to reclaim their toys, homeless scattered to find some other corner to be and those that were blessed in this hovel ducked into their apartments when he stalked by. Dark flesh broken up by only darker tattoos flashed under the flickering illumination of the interior. Frustration was at the heart of his actions and eve the simple gesture of opening the door resulted in a slammed fist to the console. That there was a dent there showed this was not the first and likely not the last time.
Immediately he should shrug off his outerwear. An attempt to look presentable that gave him nothing. The jacket slammed into the far wall before he plopped down in a chair with a can of what passed for sugar infused garbage. Only after he takes a healthy draw from the container do his eyes slide over the surface of the comm unit. For a few minutes he doesn’t move, only looking at the shape in the darkness to puzzle out if he was responsible for it being there. Then the time turns and the device activities on its own. Rasad nearly falls back from his seat.
A masked face greeted him and he was not surprised. Going through all this trouble probably means this isn’t going to be a legitimate business offer and that suspicion was soon confirmed. Odds were he wouldn’t be offered many of those anyway. A simple nod was given while the words were spoken, an acknowledgment of what was being said more than anything.
“So crack into a vault, take everything and all you want is the funny piece that’s in there. What if you’re wrong and there’s nothing in there but belly lent and this artifact? You going to guarantee my team and I get something because I can tell you that they won’t be happy with me if I bring them along and there ain’t nothing there. Not to say I won’t take it but some assurances we aren’t sticking our necks out just t make you happy would be nice.”
“The target is The Emperor’s Halo, the largest casino in this sector. It caters to the elite upper crust, who like their valuables safe. They store the most valuable of those objects in the safe with my artifact. You will get your compensation.”
A near-human, a twi-lek, and a hutt sat (or oozed, in the hutt’s case) at the table of Genaris, a high-end, highly expensive restaurant.
Of course, one would only know “Starc” was a near-human (a Balosar, in this case) if they knew his reputation, though with how long he had been working in the Coruscant underworld, that was pretty much a given. Currently, however, the Balosar’s face was hidden by a helmet, which was decidedly not in his reputation. Even so, few asked questions about it. He was a professional, after all.
Unfortunately, his daughter Toch was not, and unbeknownst to the underworld, she was currently the person behind the mask. She tried not to fidget as her company filed in, even if she became more nervous with each member entering. Her father had taught her everything he knew, but she still wasn’t him. She didn’t have his effortless composure, nor his experience. So Toch faked it till she made it, sitting as still as possible and holding her hands folded on the table in a move she imitated from her father.
Latara was smaller by Hutt standards, just a hair taller than an average human. She rather enjoyed her status as a "runt* as it allowed her to better move around in most humanoid designed structures. Latara tended to be more hands on than the rest of her family, which lent itself well to interests in computers and technology.
As a high-end restaurant, Genaris catered to a wide variety of races. As such, the wait staff could accommodate almost every body shape known in the galaxy. Latara sat on a low backless chair, much like an ottoman, that was provided for her comfort. Her gaze alternating between the menu in her hands and her two current humanoid dinner companions. The Hutt was good at what she did. Of course when meeting new contacts, she is always amused by people’s reactions to her being slicer rather than an enforcer brute.
If the patrons were fans of older period piece holo-dramas they’d recognize the powerful jaw and patterned lekka of Warat Tal. Clad like he’d just left the studio, he sat by the table and occasionally shot a glance at his compatriots as he silently sipped a drink and wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into. They’d hardly be difficult to find if anything went awry. Two near-humans, a washed-up star and a strikingly small Hutt could hardly just slip into the crowd and disappear. Then again, he probably could. Still, loose ends weren’t exactly desirable and any of these people looked like they’d snap under pressure. Musing on it a while longer, he realized he had no choice. It was too late to pull out now. Come whatever may, he’d weather the storm or be swept away.
After around 5 minutes, Rasad enters the restaurant. His attire just fancy enough to pass muster for such a high-end place. After sitting down and ordering something off the menu, he pulls out a commlink, sets it on the table.
The commlink flashes, then a hologram appears revealing a cloaked figure whose face is hidden.
“So you’re the team Rasad put together?” he asks rhetorically. “I have a job,” he explains, “but before I explain the details, I’m going to ask that you check wherever you are for bugs. I’m not willing to risk these details leaking out.”
Shrugging, Warat complies with what the man tells him to do. Bending over, he pokes around a bit, finding himself looking straight into the great, bulbous eyes of the Hutt he found himself sharing the table with. Moreover, both of their eyes fixate on whatever it is that appears to be stuck to the aforementioned table’s underside. “Hm, be my guest.” the Twi’lek says, unsure how to approach a being such as Latara without accidentally getting on the bad side of someone he’d rather be on friendly terms with. With a swift hand gesture, he emphasizes his insistence that Latara should dislodge the bug. Considering himself done with what he had to do, he emerges from below the table, dusts off his robes and returns to minding his own business.
He nods, satisfied with the bug search.
“In the THA sector of Coruscant there is a casino called The Emperor’s Halo. Inside is a vault containing various valuables of the rich patrons of the casino. Additionally, the bank contains a lot of credits. The reason this vault is of interest, is the Emperor himself uses the vault to store some of the relics he took from the traitorous Jedi.”
He pauses before continuing.
“There’s a specific artifact in that vault. I want it. I’m willing to provide you funding to break into that vault. You give me that artifact, and you can have whatever else you want from in that vault.”
“Do any of you have any questions? Concerns about the job? Or shall I just leave you to it?”
Latara listens to the holographic figure as he explains the job. As she does so, she reaches out under the table and retrieves the bug that was found.
Latara tucks the recording device into a pocket for later study then speaks in a rough Basic.
“Yes. It’s a small hand-sized cube, glass with a smaller cube inside it. If you tried to sell it to someone else, it would most likely put you on the Empire’s watch list.”
The hooded figure explains. His hood slips slightly revealing a non-human face. He quickly straightens the hood, hiding his features once more.
Latara nods in acknowledgment of the description provided. She ponders for a moment before realizing what the object likely is, understanding entirely the comment of watch list. She looks to the others assembled to see if anyone else has anything to add.
“Do you have any more questions?”
He says, before continuing,
and if I may offer a bit of advice, don’t attempt something of this size without a healthy amount of planning.
I was going to ask you about that whole planning part, but I figure you’re just the one paying us to retrieve whatever it is you want from the vault. The small glass cube or whatever it was. I’m guessing it’s up to us to take it from here. Rasad will contact you once this whole business is over and done with so we can hand over that object you’re seeking, correct? Now, is there anything else of interest you could tell us about the Emperor’s Halo or should we do some research of our own rather than ask you?"
Scouting the target is your job, not mine. If I thought I could get into the place on my own, I wouldn’t have hired you. As for the Emperor’s Halo, the only thing I can tell you is that there are artifacts other than the one I described there. Don’t take them, they won’t be worth the trouble they would cause for you.
I’ve got no more questions for you. If no one else at this table has any, we might as well wrap it up here. You’ll hear from us, or, in the worst case scenario, of us, at some later time.
The comm image fizzles out with a crackle as The Speaker disconnects.