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"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he himself become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you,” spoke the mobster, quoting his favorite philosopher. He did that, sometimes. Just randomly spat out an excerpt or two of one of that man’s texts. He knew a lot, you see, and he knew with all of this accumulated knowledge that the philosopher’s views were ineffably… correct. He was dressed in formal attire: a two-piece, single-breasted midnight blue suit complete with a white dress shirt underneath and a red tie. His inky black hair, combed backwards and out of his face as always, was marred only by the occasional white-grey streak that ran through it. He held aloft in one hand a crystal glass, carved from the remains of a Shard, a silicon-based species native to Orax. Within it there was a variation of Cabernet Sauvignon; despite its widespread fame, Dante preferred it above all of its cheaper counterparts. Jhorev and Shashem trailed behind him, garbed in dusty cloaks and mercenary wear. They were armed to the teeth and held none of the class or elegance that saturated the air around the Don like a second soul.
A young intellectual was chatting with his colleague, oblivious to their approach. “There is something about the mafia that is endlessly fascinating to peaceful, law-abiding citizens like us,” he said. “I think it’s the bizarre juxtaposition of love for family and adherence to a code of honor with the worst, most ruthless criminal determination.” His friend looked nervous and stared cautiously over the speaker’s shoulder. The man turned with exaggerated slowness, took a gulp when he saw who it was, and extended a trembling hand. Don Alighieri grasped it, pretending to not have heard the exchange. His smile spoke volumes about just how deep his integrity ran. Thinking that the gangster hadn’t heard him, the young male looked a bit more comfortable. Without warning, he started to tell Dante about how he had graduated from some prestigious academy that the Don did not care about, and then went on to give a few more examples from his lengthy list of credentials.
“That’s nice,” Dante said, warm grin exuding nothing but pleasance.
“I’m Nicholas,” the boy said. “I have a few more details on your… um… operation.” He struggled to find a term that somewhat belied the gravity of just what that ‘operation’ really was.
“Oh, yes. Tell me.”
“Plans have been proceeding quite well, actually. We suspect that in one to two months we will be able to begin siphoning funds from some of our host benefactors. A few have a suspicion, we think, but a few credits can easily keep them from revealing anything we wouldn’t want them to.”
“Intimidation will work just as well. It’s fun and it’s free, too.” Nicholas looked somewhat annoyed, though he hid it well.
“Yes, well, how you deal with it is your problem, not mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. We can chat next month, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine. Goodbye, Nicholas. It was… a delight, seeing you again.” Nicholas nodded dumbly and pivoted towards his chair. His friend had already left, knowing that the conversation wasn’t for him to hear. Dante sauntered languidly out through the door, then said to Shashem, “Take care of him for me, will you?” The Whiphid dipped his head and strode back in through the threshold. Nicholas began to ask Shashem why he had returned, if he had forgot something, but he was cut off rather abruptly by the sound of a slugthrower issuing its classic staccato retort. The soundproofed walls did their job of insulating the effect, though. Whatever had been left of Nicholas’ sentence was replaced with a strained gurgling noise.
The Don chuckled to himself and exited the building, merging once more into the churning swaths of Coruscant’s bustling crowds...
---
We are a number of organizations under one banner. We are a mob, a drug cartel, a fully-functioning mafia, and we are the fist of no god but instead the hand of an artist. We are the brush across which each canvas is painted, be it acrylic or watercolor, post-modernism or a surrealist movement. We are the blade forged by saints and smithies, the one that pierces the heart of the galaxy and makes it sputter and die. We are—
A family. And this is our story.
---
Life, in his case, began with a gunshot. The sound rang out through the hospital and a nurse droid went down in a heap of smoldering slag. Doctors and patients alike scattered and security guards were roused from their sleep. Another click. This one left a mobster – a, normally, very strong man – a weeping wreck. He stood, shedding tears above his wife’s paling corpse and above his newborn son. These were tears of a mixed sort: happiness, for his lineage would not die out with him as the last of a series of legends, and indescribable sadness, for with his personal victory came great loss. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the Don did not falter in his duties. With lenience not often shown by most men whose wife had just been brutally murdered before their very eyes, he quickly and mercifully executed the perpetrator. However, with a resolve undeserving of any other man (even, perhaps, Don Alighieri), he ruthlessly hunted the man’s “family” down until the very last one was a bloody lump of useless flesh and muscle and bone.
But he endured. The mob lived on, its dealers spread from their humble origins on Corellia to greater galactic gemstones, like Coruscant and Onderon and Alderaan, and when Dante’s father perished with the secure understanding that his empire would pass on to greater hands, there came a new era in the existence of their family syndicate. Don Alighieri extended operations to worlds beyond the Core and deep into the Mid Rim. Although the presence of the far, far larger Hutt Empire, which also had its own criminal activities, prevented them from participating in many activities within the Outer Rim, a few operatives have managed to sneak past them, but they are still severely limited in their endeavors.
Dante’s mob could almost be considered an amalgam of various smalltime criminal syndicates, be they gangsters, bounty hunters, pirates, or smugglers. Many freelancers have at least partial affiliation with his group and his name is widespread in the fringe, or the underbelly of society where lurk those of his… breed. His name is an icon of fear and power, and though he wields no might to be considered like that of the Hutt Empire or the Exchange in years to come (approximately nine thousand, to be precise), Alighieri has no intentions of being forgotten by history.
Alighieri’s mob has existed for generations, and so it will continue to exist.
---
STATS
PRIMARY FUNCTIONS: Drug synthesizing and distribution, political bribery, racketeering/extortion, spice smuggling
SUBSIDIARY FUNCTIONS: Assassination, bounty hunting, piracy, propaganda, weapons trafficking
BASE(s) OF OPERATIONS: Although the faction’s main headquarters are located on its birthplace of Corellia and Coruscant, it experiences as a whole very widespread influence. This could be attributed to the fact that it is in actuality fairly disconnected, only mobilizing through word of mouth or obscure commlink channels, and therefore spread out amongst the various star systems. Rumors of the mob’s activities spread in the criminal underground like wildfire, but efforts by the judicial police to put a stop to them are often met with false leads and daring escapes, sometimes even resulting in planned ambushes.
ROSTER: – Nevermore/Words: Dante Alighieri, the Don
Jhorev & Shashem, the Bodyguards
-- Cailst:
Jacob Forsei, the Chemist
-- The Dragon Reborn:
Bismarck, the Enforcer
-- Denzein
Reno Farcry, the Chaperon
ASSOCIATED/AFFILIATED FACTIONS/GROUPS/CHARACTERS:
The Order of the Crimson Knights/the Web of Ghosts/Jade Galactic [DAYBREAK; IN PROGRESS]
ASSOCIATED THREADS:
DAYBREAK
A young intellectual was chatting with his colleague, oblivious to their approach. “There is something about the mafia that is endlessly fascinating to peaceful, law-abiding citizens like us,” he said. “I think it’s the bizarre juxtaposition of love for family and adherence to a code of honor with the worst, most ruthless criminal determination.” His friend looked nervous and stared cautiously over the speaker’s shoulder. The man turned with exaggerated slowness, took a gulp when he saw who it was, and extended a trembling hand. Don Alighieri grasped it, pretending to not have heard the exchange. His smile spoke volumes about just how deep his integrity ran. Thinking that the gangster hadn’t heard him, the young male looked a bit more comfortable. Without warning, he started to tell Dante about how he had graduated from some prestigious academy that the Don did not care about, and then went on to give a few more examples from his lengthy list of credentials.
“That’s nice,” Dante said, warm grin exuding nothing but pleasance.
“I’m Nicholas,” the boy said. “I have a few more details on your… um… operation.” He struggled to find a term that somewhat belied the gravity of just what that ‘operation’ really was.
“Oh, yes. Tell me.”
“Plans have been proceeding quite well, actually. We suspect that in one to two months we will be able to begin siphoning funds from some of our host benefactors. A few have a suspicion, we think, but a few credits can easily keep them from revealing anything we wouldn’t want them to.”
“Intimidation will work just as well. It’s fun and it’s free, too.” Nicholas looked somewhat annoyed, though he hid it well.
“Yes, well, how you deal with it is your problem, not mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. We can chat next month, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine. Goodbye, Nicholas. It was… a delight, seeing you again.” Nicholas nodded dumbly and pivoted towards his chair. His friend had already left, knowing that the conversation wasn’t for him to hear. Dante sauntered languidly out through the door, then said to Shashem, “Take care of him for me, will you?” The Whiphid dipped his head and strode back in through the threshold. Nicholas began to ask Shashem why he had returned, if he had forgot something, but he was cut off rather abruptly by the sound of a slugthrower issuing its classic staccato retort. The soundproofed walls did their job of insulating the effect, though. Whatever had been left of Nicholas’ sentence was replaced with a strained gurgling noise.
The Don chuckled to himself and exited the building, merging once more into the churning swaths of Coruscant’s bustling crowds...
---
We are a number of organizations under one banner. We are a mob, a drug cartel, a fully-functioning mafia, and we are the fist of no god but instead the hand of an artist. We are the brush across which each canvas is painted, be it acrylic or watercolor, post-modernism or a surrealist movement. We are the blade forged by saints and smithies, the one that pierces the heart of the galaxy and makes it sputter and die. We are—
A family. And this is our story.
---
Life, in his case, began with a gunshot. The sound rang out through the hospital and a nurse droid went down in a heap of smoldering slag. Doctors and patients alike scattered and security guards were roused from their sleep. Another click. This one left a mobster – a, normally, very strong man – a weeping wreck. He stood, shedding tears above his wife’s paling corpse and above his newborn son. These were tears of a mixed sort: happiness, for his lineage would not die out with him as the last of a series of legends, and indescribable sadness, for with his personal victory came great loss. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the Don did not falter in his duties. With lenience not often shown by most men whose wife had just been brutally murdered before their very eyes, he quickly and mercifully executed the perpetrator. However, with a resolve undeserving of any other man (even, perhaps, Don Alighieri), he ruthlessly hunted the man’s “family” down until the very last one was a bloody lump of useless flesh and muscle and bone.
But he endured. The mob lived on, its dealers spread from their humble origins on Corellia to greater galactic gemstones, like Coruscant and Onderon and Alderaan, and when Dante’s father perished with the secure understanding that his empire would pass on to greater hands, there came a new era in the existence of their family syndicate. Don Alighieri extended operations to worlds beyond the Core and deep into the Mid Rim. Although the presence of the far, far larger Hutt Empire, which also had its own criminal activities, prevented them from participating in many activities within the Outer Rim, a few operatives have managed to sneak past them, but they are still severely limited in their endeavors.
Dante’s mob could almost be considered an amalgam of various smalltime criminal syndicates, be they gangsters, bounty hunters, pirates, or smugglers. Many freelancers have at least partial affiliation with his group and his name is widespread in the fringe, or the underbelly of society where lurk those of his… breed. His name is an icon of fear and power, and though he wields no might to be considered like that of the Hutt Empire or the Exchange in years to come (approximately nine thousand, to be precise), Alighieri has no intentions of being forgotten by history.
Alighieri’s mob has existed for generations, and so it will continue to exist.
---
STATS
PRIMARY FUNCTIONS: Drug synthesizing and distribution, political bribery, racketeering/extortion, spice smuggling
SUBSIDIARY FUNCTIONS: Assassination, bounty hunting, piracy, propaganda, weapons trafficking
BASE(s) OF OPERATIONS: Although the faction’s main headquarters are located on its birthplace of Corellia and Coruscant, it experiences as a whole very widespread influence. This could be attributed to the fact that it is in actuality fairly disconnected, only mobilizing through word of mouth or obscure commlink channels, and therefore spread out amongst the various star systems. Rumors of the mob’s activities spread in the criminal underground like wildfire, but efforts by the judicial police to put a stop to them are often met with false leads and daring escapes, sometimes even resulting in planned ambushes.
ROSTER: – Nevermore/Words: Dante Alighieri, the Don
Jhorev & Shashem, the Bodyguards
-- Cailst:
Jacob Forsei, the Chemist
-- The Dragon Reborn:
Bismarck, the Enforcer
-- Denzein
Reno Farcry, the Chaperon
ASSOCIATED/AFFILIATED FACTIONS/GROUPS/CHARACTERS:
The Order of the Crimson Knights/the Web of Ghosts/Jade Galactic [DAYBREAK; IN PROGRESS]
ASSOCIATED THREADS:
DAYBREAK
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