GreenDragonPage
        QABARAT, CASTROVAL    
 
    
 
  
 
As the bounty hunters' ship descends towards the planet of Castroval, the rain pelts against the viewing window, casting a blurry veil over the cityscape below. The heavy raindrops create a rhythmic patter against the glass, drowning out the hum of the ship's engines. The clouds above are dark and ominous, casting a gloomy shadow over the landscape.

As the ship touches down on the Ship's End space port, the hunters step out onto the landing pad, immediately feeling the chill of the rain-soaked air. The city of Qabarat sprawls out before them, with towering skyscrapers reaching towards the sky, their windows reflecting the fading light of the setting sun.

Despite the rain, the city's streets are teeming with life. Neon signs flicker and glow in the misty air, casting an otherworldly glow on the slick pavements. The hunters navigate their way through the crowded streets, dodging puddles and avoiding the slick trails of the corporate slime that lingers in the city's alleys.

As they make their way towards a dive bar called the Diving Rat, the smell of dampness and decay fills the air. The streets are lined with dilapidated buildings, their paint peeling and their walls stained with grime. The flickering neon lights of the dive bar beckon from a dimly lit alley, casting eerie shadows against the damp walls.

Inside the dive bar, the atmosphere is murky and foreboding. The air is thick with the acrid scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and the dim lighting casts shadows that dance across the faces of the patrons. The bar is filled with a motley crew of characters, each with their own hidden agenda.

Osric Ryen, the hunters' wealthy benefactor, sits at a corner table, surrounded by an entourage of shady-looking individuals. He motions for the hunters to join him, his piercing eyes cutting through the smoky haze. His voice is low and gravelly, and he wastes no time in getting straight to business. As the hunters approach, he waves off his "friends."

As the hunters take their seats, they can feel the tension in the air. The rain continues to drum against the windows, adding to the sense of foreboding. Osric, a balding human with short grey hair, a devilish silver goatee and a plump belly, lays out a proposition, his voice barely audible over the din of the bar.

  "I want to thank you again for all you did in capturing Melina Esperon, Scourge of the Centauri Cluster. She really had it out for me."   Osric's voice is unusually hoarse and deep, he probably has a cold.

  "Melina may have destroyed my company's seven factories but I still have a lot of cash &amp; connections in the corporate sphere. I bought a condo in the nicer section of town. You all are free to crash there, if needed. Azure Tortoise Industries may have fallen on hard times but that does not mean my good friends need to experience the same pain."  

The man slides over a data pad with what looks like a digital deed on it.   "Here, you can have the ship you came in on. You will need it...  "

Osric takes a deep swig on the copper-and-crimson alcohol.

"  Because I paid for your entry fee to get into the Great Shadow Hunter Tournamen  t." Maybe his atypical hoarseness comes from the cigarette smoke...?

  "Like I said, I may have fallen on hard times but this tournament is a once in a life time opportunity for you lot. I want to support you, to see you become Shadow Tracker ULTIMATE!"  

As the hunters listen to Osric's proposition, they can't shake off the feeling that they are being watched. Suspicious glances are exchanged among the patrons, and the hunters can't help but wonder who they can trust in this city of corporate intrigue and political manipulation.

A Dessamar on the far side of the room catches every hunter's eye. He is wearing a finely made suit. He is attempting to appear casual while constantly looking over at the party. He occasionally holds his left hand up to this mouth and whispers something into his cuff.

"  The TOURNAMENT will begin soon! Are you not excited friends? I bought a condo on the nicer side over town. Feel free to stop by and use it as a crash pad. Wait... I already said that...  " Osric shrugs and takes another swig of his drink.

A drunk human saunters over to the juke box, he haphazardly makes a selection. The speakers begin to blare some incomprehensible whailing accompanied by a the sound of a drum and a tuba. The drunken man holds up his hands in excitement,   "HELL YEAH!"  

The Dessamar from across the bar holds his cuff up to whatever his biological equivalent of an ear is, as if trying to hear something softly spoken over the sound of the blaring "music"

  
 
BelGareth
Fix8 as they entered the atmosphere and rain began beating against the hard steel like glass, it unnerved him, nervous even. In space, there is noise, but it was a silent....almost serene noise, not this rough loud ceaseless pounding, it was erratic, something about it put him on edge, and he began playing with his fingers on one hand, it calmed him as they descended onto the surface. Once they landed, he scowled, looking out the rain hadn't absconded, so he grabbed a rough-hewn blanket, one they keep as a spare in the cargo hold, and wrapped it around him in a strange attempt to ward off the moisture, a strange sight really, seeing as  most  androids would ignore it.

Holding the fabric tight around him, he stepped out into the rain and looked up, he stared directly at the rain, eyes not moving, and wondered what it would have been like to grow up here instead of a space mining station. They had rain there of course, just...not like this, not falling from above from...nothing, they were usually tasked with fixing the issue, so he could and would instinctively seek out the leek, though, some places were leaking on purpose, and those he avoided, it felt like work.

Frowning even further, he followed the rest of the group as they wound their way through the streets, and eventually ending in the dive bar with Osric, Fix8 was still trying to figure out the man, he was very generous, but in his experience, people like that would just ask for much more of you, even too much in most instances, but that hadn't happened yet....and there it was, we were entered into the tournament, trying to recall some information about it, Fix8 had only heard it in passing, maybe one of his companions would know more? He made a note to followup with one of them, but right now, he was staring at the Dessamar across the way, who was being as overt as a three-legged spined-chicken in mating season, he whispers to his party   "I think that thing over there is planning something against us."   he says in his atypical tone, accusing the creature right out of the gate.

The group knew he was being over the top, and he had a hard time judging people's intentions.

As the rain continued to beat against the window nearby, Fix8 pulled his makeshift poncho tighter.
Starbin
      
     Jax Stone    
   HP:  22  | CURRENT:  22  | STAMINA:  18  | CURRENT:  18  | RESOLVE:  5  | CURRENT:  5
 KAC:  16  | EAC:  15  | CMAC:  24  | FORT:  +1  | REF:  +7  | WILL:  +3
 Active Effects:   None.
 Conditions:   None.  
 
 Spoiler: APPEARANCE 
Jax is tall and lean ... and deceptively fast for his height. He has dark brown eyes that range in hue depending on the lighting. He keeps his dark, curly hair short, but fashionable. His voice is usually soft and low, often with an undercurrent of snark or sarcasm. He prefers darker clothes that breath - loose enough to allow movement, but tight enough to avoid snagging on anything when he's moving with a purpose. He has a pistol on one hip and a baton on the other, with a sniper rifle on his back ... but also keeps a knife in his boot
 

 
 Spoiler: PERSONALITY 
As a child, Jax was quiet and unassuming - he preferred to watch and listen instead of standing out and drawing attention to himself. As a young man, after his first serious run in with the law (and almost going to prison), he became more outgoing.  He will engage when he has questions, and often make wise-cracks during the toughest of times, almost as a way of coping with stress. He prefers crowds to being alone - a product of growing up on Absalom Station. One of his dreams was always to see the worlds at large, but it took a run-in with the law to make it a reality.
 

 
 Spoiler: BACKGROUND 
Jax grew up in the Spike, an orphan like so many others - harsh conditions and gang warfare tended to cut many lives short. Living in the underbelly, there were only three types of people - the tough, the quick and the dead. Fortunately, Jax fell into the camp of the quick; enough to not only survive but thrive. He avoided conflict for most of his early life, keeping his head down, staying to the shadows and avoiding the numerous gangs. However, everyone in the Spike ends up choosing a side, and Jax was no different. He joined up with the Scavengers, a group known for trafficking in rare materials and unique items. They tended to prefer a profit-oriented, mercantile approach to their illicit activities, vice the more brutal methods pursued by gangs like the Bulkheads and Karker's Hammers.

Unfortunately, that didn't make their exchanges any more legal. During a transport raid, the Scavengers were caught bringing in restricted cloning tech into the Station. Jax was part of the outer perimeter lookouts and after giving the signal to scram, he managed to escape capture ... but not being identified by the local authorities. Knowing it was a matter of time before they found him, Jax looked for alternatives to prison - his best option was off-station. He grabbed his bug out kit, found a transport headed for parts unknown, and left his home.

For the better part of tree years, Jax lived his 'dream' - traveling to different worlds, experiencing places and people he would likely never have seen if he had stayed at home. He worked several jobs over the years - scout, guard, transporter, 'acquirer.' However, it wasn't until he met Ragorn Stetson, a grizzled tracker turned bounty hunter, that he found something to truly pique his interest. The life wasn't glamorous or dripping with money, but it didn't take long for Jax to realize he'd rather spend life on the margins marching to the beat of his own drumbeat than slave along to the cracking whip of others. Fortunately, Ragorn liked the snarky young man and took him under his wing, introducing him to the job, the rules of the hunt, and the community. After just two years of OJT, Ragorn sponsored Jax and he earned his license as a fugitive recovery agent - a full-fledged bounty hunter.

Fast forward another couple of years, and Jax found himself staring at an advert, a call for the Great Shadow Tracker Tournament. With a gleam in his eyes, Jax made travel arrangements, anxious to see what this whole thing was about ...
 
 
 
  

Jax pulled his cloak tightly, adjusting the straps on his rifle as they departed the ship and gazed around the port.  He had been gone for the Station for several years, but every once in awhile he got weirded out by this kind of exposure to the elements.  Chuckling to himself, he looked down at the data slate, memorizing the route on the screen before he nodded to the others that he was ready to proceed to the rendezvous.  Putting away the slate, he followed the group for a few steps, then turned to head down a side street before proceeding quickly on ahead.  The others were taking the long route to the bar, which let Jax scout ahead for potential ambushes, then shadow them to watch for potential ambushes.  Was it paranoid? Hell yes!  But just because you were paranoid, didn't mean you weren't being hunted.

When they reached the bar, he slipped inside first, eyeing the place before he settled his gaze on their employer, Osric Ryen.  He found a comfortable place along the wall as the others sat, listening to what the man had to say.

  "I want to thank you again for all you did in capturing Melina Esperon, Scourge of the Centauri Cluster. She really had it out for me." Melina may have destroyed my company's seven factories but I still have a lot of cash &amp; connections in the corporate sphere. I bought a condo in the nicer section of town. You all are free to crash there, if needed. Azure Tortoise Industries may have fallen on hard times but that does not mean my good friends need to experience the same pain."  

Jax thought back to the night they had captured Melina.  She had been so confident, standing over the team with a smug look in her eyes.  But when she didn't think anyone was looking, those eyes were filled with pain.  Jax only noticed it because he was observant; the others were a bit distracted by the large gun she was waving around.  Glancing over at his companions, he saw one of them make the signal with their hand.  Smiling to himself, he waited for Melina's second-in-command to step forward when he fired the first shot.  The crack was lost as a whisper, inaudible above the sound of machinery.

When the round struck Melina's lieutenant, he spasmed for a moment, then fell backwards, dead or unconscious.  Before Melina could react, Jax moved his sight over and flicked the switch on his laser sight.  She glanced down and saw the red dot and her face flooded with emotions - surprise, frustration, regret, resignation.  He would never forget that look as she threw down her gun and raised her hand in defeat.

Jax pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he looked at Osric, wondering for the hundredth time what the bastich had down to her.  Their former patron slid a data pad across the table, with a digital deed plainly displayed.  He nodded towards it, taking a swing of his drink.    "Here, you can have the ship you came in on. You will need it... because I paid for your entry fee to get into the Great Shadow Hunter Tournament.  Like I said, I may have fallen on hard times but this tournament is a once in a life time opportunity for you lot. I want to support you, to see you become Shadow Tracker ULTIMATE!"  

Jax snorted, frowning to himself as he considered the offer.  Wasn't the tournament something you needed to be invited to, not just signed up for?  Why would they take them? Sure they had caught the great Melina Esperon, but did that put them at the top of the list already?  No, somethings was off ... and speaking of off, who was eyeballing them?

Jax's eyes narrowed as he started to look around the bar.  In the back, a Dessamar was painfully trying to watch them and report to someone, without looking like he was doing that.  Glances left and right identified several more thugs and toughs that looked more than a little antsy.  He heard Fix8's comment and agreed, so at the loud exclamation from the juke box, Jax was already moving, slipping away from the wall he was leaning against and over to the loud music fan.  There, he leaned in laughing, while keeping an eye on events back towards the Dessamar.

 
 OOC - sorry for the delay, but I needed to find my inner voice for this character and stage set things.  Given the situation, Jax would try to move away from the group, making it harder to get them all with one fell swoop ... and perhaps giving him an angel on the Dessamar, or whoever else might be setting up to attack them.

  Initiative  - (1d20+10)[ 13 ] 
  Perception  - (1d20+8)[ 22 ] 
  Stealth  - (1d20+13)[ 21 ]  