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A long ago in a galaxy far, far away...the largest moon of Nal Hutta, Nar Shadda, has become an entire city, overrun with crime. Gangsters, gamblers, thieves, and murderers alike roam the streets freely. Both Republic and Imperial delegates are trying to form an alliance with the Hutt Cartel. A Republic starship holding one of the Republic Ambassadors is approaching the moon in hopes of reaching an agreement. On this large starship, a young man and pilot awaits his next order. "-and one last thing before you go, Cadet. You and the rest of your squadron are heading down to the planet surface with the Ambassador in an escort shuttle. Make sure our landing zone for the Ambassador is secured. Dismissed." Kelim'tel saluted to the Captain before heading down to the hangar with the rest of his fighter squadron. His service had been at least a year in the Republic, along with his squadron. His squad leader, Sergeant Jerl, was skeptical about the mission, evidence by the way he was posturing as the entire squad began to enter their Liberator-class starfighters. "Sir, I got the orders from command. They want us to head down to the surface now with the Ambassador." Jerl stared off into the distance, his Nautolan face scrunching up. "Thank you, Cadet. Mount up immediately."

Kelim'tel was curious by his squad leaders behavior, but obeyed his command nonetheless. With that, the squadron and shuttle were finally able to take off after everything was prepared and ready. The flight down to the surface was relatively easy as they finally hit ground on the landing shuttle. Stepping out of his starfighter, Kelim'tel had a smug look on his face as they escorted the Ambassador through the streets. "And you thought something bad was going to happen." He grinned as the Sergeant chuckled uneasily, muttering a "Keep your eyes face forward, Cadet..." He still had an nervous feeling about the mission...

"Gimme one job- just one job, Lumos! I swear I'm good for it!"

Lumos, the one-eyed Rodian dealer, gave Horis an up and down glance with his one good eye, and promptly laughed. His beak bobbed up and down and a few droplets of liquor sprayed out of his snout onto the smuggler's dark jacket, the rolls of fat beneath his shirt wobbling as he kicked back in his chair. The Rodian was grotesquely fat and, if not for his face, could've been mistaken for a young Hutt in the right lighting. Horis edged out of the way, sliding his chair so most of the liquid ended up going over the railing of the cantina, probably falling on the head of some poor peasant a dozen floors below them. The interior of Lumos' favorite watering hole was a dank and smelly, cramped place with poor music and worse service. The balcony at least gave them "fresh air" from the city and a place to speak where they could be heard.

Horis was not so amused by Lumos' laughter, but the confusion on his face made it apparent he would need an explanation from the Rodian.

~Stupid human! You think I just keep contraband lying on the side for someone to pick up and move for me?~

Horis rolled his eyes at Lumos, raising his gloved hands toward the vertical city stretching above them.

"Lumos, this is Nar Shadaa! Everyone has contraband to sell- from the politicians down to the mynocks!"

The Rodian chuckled, wiped the liquor droplets from his snout and settled back into his chair.

~Maybe so, but I've got nothing worth moving at this time, friend. Not until the price of certain goods goes up dramatically. War was good for business. Now there are too many smugglers to pick from and not enough buyers.~

"Lumos- Lumos we go back. Way back."

~Too true.~

"Remember Hapes? And Alderaan? I ran spice into the squeakiest clean planets this side of the galaxy and got you a full count. Didn't cheat you out of a credit."

~I also remember the ship I loaned you for those runs,~ Lumos snarled. ~The one you took to Coruscant without consulting me.~

"The one I paid you back for with the money I made on that run. I knew you'd say no to all that money but I still made you a profit when I could've got you cut out!"

~AND NOW LOOK WHERE THAT'S GOT YOU!~ Lumos stirred his beverage, turned his one good eye to the skyline, and heaved a sigh.

~Horis, my boy. You've got talent but no check on your arrogance. I know it's not greed because you could've left me high and dry after the Dwarf was destroyed. But that red ship you bought is Republic Military. There is no way to reconfigure it to show up as anything else on sensors. You will draw attention to everything you do. Every Sith will shoot at you on sight and every Republic cruiser will demand you heave-to until the paperwork for ownership clears. So no, I will not help you.~

Lumos waved at a droid hovering through the air with a platter of drinks, calling for the bill.

~Is there nothing else?~

Horis shook his head, tacking off another contact from his list of old business associates- a list that was growing shorter with every passing day. His ship's fuel tank was as empty as his cargo bay, and pretty soon he wouldn't have any credits to pay the docking fees.

"Nothing," Horis said, standing from the seat. He didn't offer so much as a goodbye on his way out, which was just fine with Lumos as another smuggler approached to see the old boss.

Horis thumbed the datadrive in his jacket pocket, casually sauntering through the crowded interior of the bar, trying his best to keep a low profile while headed out, back to the docking station where his Defender Corvette was parked...

There was no place in the galaxy Eris was stronger than the streets of Nar Shaddaa. Here was her home for the longest period of her life, and she thought as she walked calmly down the streets of the city, it hadn't changed a bit. Prostitutes and spice dealers openly plying their trade, brutality in every alley and street corner, the all-pervasive stench of alcohol and feces mingled with the choking perfume of the whores, the cacophony of screams and sobs and maddened laughter. This planet was thick with evil, choked with the Dark Side.

Eris hated this world more than any other thing or place in the universe. So naturally Darth Zazel had seen fit to send her here.

She was dressed the part of a spacer, like millions of others on this forsaken rock - boots, dark blue trousers, a gray shirt, and a black nerfhide jacket over it. The jacket served as handy concealment, she didn't have to worry about disguising her lightsaber when she could just slide it into an inner pocket. Most people would note the bulge on the other side of the jacket where she had slotted a heavy blaster pistol. Not that she thought she'd need it or have any real use for it, but people on Nar Shaddaa notice when they see people not carrying blasters. At best they see opportunity, at worst they get suspicious.

The Republic was active on this world, she knew. It was why she was here, and where the Republic went so too went the Jedi. She did not relish the thought of encountering one of them. Worst case scenario they would know her face - unlikely, she had been missing and presumed dead for years, but stranger things had happened and she was not exactly a lucky person. More importantly, she had not faced a Jedi since her rebirth as Eris, and had no idea how to handle her own reaction to it. Something she would have to deal with in time, but not today, hopefully. She drew into herself, stretched inward with her senses. In her mind's eye she saw the Force as a vast ocean, each movement of life around her sending tiny ripples in it. Here and there beings with minute Force sensitivity made larger ripples, but she could sense no great waves around her.

Then she applied her Master's teachings, and drew in her own power, the tides and eddies her passage made fading away into ripples scarcely larger than that of the men and women around her.

Eris opened her eyes. Limiting herself like this was strange, like temporarily giving up the use of a limb, but it was far better than being sensed by any Jedi who might be accompanying the Ambassador.

Her mission was simple: Track down the Republic ambassador and end his or her life. Imperial Intelligence had dropped the ball like never before on this one, she didn't even have a name or a holograph, just a title. But that had never stopped her before.

"Lady Eris, this is the Scarlet Jester."

"Go ahead, Jester." She said in a low voice, the small implant in her skull transmitting vibrations directly to the bones of her inner ear. It was effectively silent, but unfortunately the inverse could not be true.

"We have a warship on sensors transmitting a Republic IFF code. They've launched a shuttle and an escort of starfighters."

"Track them." She was in luck, she had arrived ahead of the Republic diplomatic party. Trying to find a single man in this entire world without a name or a holo, only a job description would be a little bit easier than finding one particular grain of sand on a beach.

"They're coming in at a public spaceport, not far from your location. Transmitting now."

Eris looked at the pad on her wrist as coordinates scrawled across it. Fortune was on her side today, she thought. She could run back to the base Darth Zazel kept on Nar Shaddaa and retrieve her personal speeder, but that seemed unnecessary in this circumstance.

"Taxi!" She waved one down, and slid into the back as soon as he had arrived. "Spaceport." She pressed a fifty credit coin into his hand, and the driver - a surly-looking Kubaz - nodded and hit the accelerator, the speeder jetting up into the Nar Shaddaa night. She tapped her ear, reopening the connection to the Scarlet Jester. "Are you maintaining a sensor lock on them?"

"For the moment, they're in the process of landing. Once they disembark I can't make any promises on maintaining sensor lock, my lady. There are simply too many beings on Nar Shaddaa for us to monitor from orbit without a tracker effectively."

"I'll handle it." She hung up. She would arrive a minute or so ahead of time, then it would just be a matter of finding the man with the Republic security detail, easy as could be for someone like her. This would need to be carefully executed, however. The Hutts would only find it offensive if a Republic ambassador was messily slaughtered by an obvious Sith Assassin, this needed to look like action by a rival of the Hutts rather than an enemy of the Republic. The Exchange was fond of speeder bombings...

So far, nothing genuine had worked regarding getting off-world. Luyioth had tried offering some of what she owns - more namely, her blaster pistol, offering a debt, and a mix of the two alongside an array of other things in exchange for passage. Understandably, as unfortunate as it may be, the smugglers, the pilots, the officials with a spare room on their ship, and all sorts of people declined one after another. Of course, it didn't help that Imperial Space is too dangerous for a force sensitive with their connection severed and that finding herself before Jedi once again could end up going poorly for her; after all, for a trained force sensitive, it wouldn't be hard at all to pick out someone with their connection severed once you're close enough considering what it leaves behind. It also didn't help that a Republic Ambassador is coming down. She doesn't know if there's any Jedi with the Ambassador - more so, she doesn't want to find out - but it's more reason to get off Nar Shadda as soon as possible.

Thankfully for her, though, an unfortunate smuggler just got turned out of a job. Luyioth sits a small way away from the exchange, her hooded desert poncho turned up and pulled over her head. She sits and listens, attempting to gauge out the smuggler-in-question to see how risky it would be. Since she can't get on a ship genuinely, and getting involved with the gangs and crews of Nar Shadda for some quick credits is far too risky for someone intending to get up and leave the moment they have what they're after, stowing away looks like the best option. Of course, she'd be better off staying than stowing away and ending up on Dromund Kaas, so she needs to be sure.

"..that red ship you bought is Republic Military." explains a certain Rodian in his native tongue, much to Luyioth's attention. Thankfully the Rodian wasn't speaking Rodese; she knows Galactic Basic, of course, and was taught Huttese for diplomatic missions with the Hutts, but barely knew Rodese other than the odd bit of trivia. She vaguely listened to the rest of the conversation, but for her, she had heard enough. She's willing to gamble that the smuggler would avoid Imperial space with a ship like that - that, and she knew a wide array of Republic ships quite well, which is ideal for stowing away in one. Traditionally she would wait in the crowded lobby of the cantina, but in a crowd like that, following anyone is hard enough; so she sits, waiting for the smuggler to leave the Rodian's little slice of the cantina.

A short time after what looks like a red-tinged near-human steps out of the Rodian's quarters, after he gets a short way ahead, Luyioth stands and moves to tail him. Throughout the cantina she'll need to stay close, but as they get outside she should back off as far as she can to hopefully avoid getting caught. Another opportunity like this could be hard to come by, so she needs to get it right the first time.

The Republic Ambassador was surrounded by a small group of Republic Troopers, well equipped for a dangerous job such as this one. Hanging behind them was the starfighter squadron. They blended in fairly okay, though if someone honestly paid a lot of attention to detail, they could tell it was just another squad of Republic soldiers. They continued on, almost arriving to their destination. At that moment, the Ambassador stopped to rest, sitting down on a nearby bench on a main street. "SorrySorry everyone, but I need to take a rest. It's not often that I get to walk around in such a...beautiful....place like this." A smile formed on his fat, rosy cheeks. Kelim'tel leaned up against a wall, crossing his arms as he looked over at the Ambassador, watching the troopers surrounding him. "All those guards are kind of...I don't know...a bulls eye?" He commented, watching them.

He felt a bit disturbed at that moment, like he felt something...or someone approaching them. He crossed his arms, sighing out. If anyone else in the area was strong in the Force, they might have felt this, of course. Kelim'tel just stood there, watching over the Ambassador from the distance...but he had no idea what was about to happen next. Nobody did. Not even the Sergeant.

It was simple enough work to pick out the Ambassador and his entourage from the crowds, even from Eris' position on a streetway a good ten meters above them. If it were just necessary to make a kill she could have done it from here, even an amateur could put a blaster bolt into a target at three hundred meters with reasonable accuracy. But she had to make it look like a hit from a rival group, and more difficult, she had to make it look like a hit from a rival group who wouldn't want the Republic to think they had just killed one of their officials. It was, to say the least, an annoying situation. She had to be deliberately clumsy, but not so clumsy as to evoke suspicion that she was trying to start trouble, and this was really the kind of thing that made one go cross-eyed.

She dug into a pocket and withdrew a cigarra, sliding it into her mouth and lighting it. It wasn't that she had any great use for it, but staring off into space draws less attention when you're apparently enjoying a smoke.

Ah, if only I could just jump down there and carve them all up. Damnable subtlety.

The Republic would find their caution to be... Overstated... There wasn't a single man on the planet that would dare to think about daring to touch the Ambassador. This was one of the most profitable events to ever take part on the Smugglers Moon and every Hutt had interest in it. The Republic delegates would notice a large amount of bounty-hunters and Mercenaries were on the streets, each one ready and willing to jump on anyone that dared to attack the delegates. Interference in this meant interference in Hutt business, and interference in Hutt business invited death. The bounty hunters smelled a chance to get on the Hutts good side, which meant more job opportunities and more leniency in their work. One of these Bounty Hunters, a Ubese stood, watching the crowd. He had a Rodian slave-girl on a chain. The Ubese walked along with ambassadors crowd. The Slave-Girl watched the crowd and silently whispered to him. "Remember Korrsh said he cares not for Imperial casualties... The Republic has a lot more credit at hand." The Ubese turned to play along with their charade by raising the back of his fist to indicate he would beat her if she could not be silent.

"Understood." he whispered.

“What do you see, Padawan?” Master Oolaquai, a tall Zabrak of a darker complexion, asked, though his vibrant blue eyes never wandered from their survey of the streets below. Having been in the sector already on other business, he and his Padawan, a petite Miraluka girl with white hair and fair skin, had been the obvious choice for assignment to protect the Ambassador who was to begin negotiations with the Hutt Lords that ruled the crime-infested world of Nar Shadda.

The duo had arrived a few days before the Ambassador and her detail of Republic soldiers, allowing them to rest up and scope out the most likely ambush points. They were almost in the clear when the Ambassador sat down on a nearby bench, having clearly over-exerted himself. Why he couldn’t have waited to take a break until he was safe in the Hutt’s palace, Master Oolaquai didn’t know, but it gave him a very bad feeling about everything.

”It’s just the sam--wait a second. That person smoking on that street over there?" his Padawan, Mizzie, replied, raising a hand to point at the woman in the black jacket she was talking about. ”She’s Force-sensitive, though definitely untrained. I think she’s leaning toward the Dark Side, but it’s hard to tell with all of the people around.”

Even if she was tending towards the Dark Side like everyone else on the Smugglers’ Moon, she didn’t appear to be particularly interested in the Ambassador below, and an untrained Force-sensitive wouldn’t be able to stand up to a Master and his Padawan, let alone a squad of well-trained Republic troopers.

“Very good, Padawan,” Master Oolaquai replied, giving Mizzie a brief pat on the shoulder while he watched the woman smoking for a few moments before dismissing her as a non-threat. He would have to see about getting a recruiter to visit this decadent world to see if she could be trained. It never hurt to have another Knight in the Order after all. “What about energies?”

”Just the usual. No one’s charging up a weapon or anything like that,” she responded after taking a few moments to concentrate and scan their surroundings. Master Oolaquai nodded and sighed, a rare display of emotion from the distinguished Jedi. Still, his emotional state didn’t divert his attention from the streets below, and he settled in to watch for trouble until the Ambassador decided to keep moving.