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Coordinates: N-13
Planetary System: Iseno
Location: Warhoun
The planet of Iseno had always lived in the shadow of Denon, their neighboring ecumenopolis world and financial center. While the people of Iseno enjoyed moderate notability from the strong military infrastructure, they never acquired the same wealth and prosperity of their neighboring system. That was of course, until the wars between the Sith Empire and the Republic/Jedi coalition forces touched down on Denon. Several battles were fought on the planetary system leaving the world of Denon in absolute ruins. While a great tragedy to the people of Denon, it was a boon for Iseno who's strong military presence provided security for wealthy beings of the private sector.
With this newfound wealth the city of Warhoun was built upwards as a monument to the prosperity of the Iseno system and given the high gravity of the world. Warhoun was one of the first cities built utilizing repulson technology to stabilize the higher levels and allowed for the continued upwards construction. In addition, this repulson technology allowed for an artificial barrier between the two halves of Warhoun. The upper side of the city where many of the ranking government or military officials dwelt alongside the rich or influential citizenry floated high above the lower warrens of the city where the dredges of society worked, stole, lived, and died in effort to produce goods for the city above.
To further ensure the security of the growing class system on the planet, the capitalist aristocracy of Warhoun cut off the majority of transport between the upper and lower halves of their city. The minimal contact that occurred between the high society of Upper Warhoun and the dredges of the Lower Warhoun warrens was mostly conducted through illicit blackmarket channels and smuggling routes. However, the winds of change are coming to Warhoun and it is coming through the smallest of Whispers.
Location: Upper Warhoun, The Moondust Resort
Lon Berik, a forensic auditor sent by the Intergalactic Banking Clans, had grown tired of the city of Warhoun. He had been assigned to Iseno as a part of a banking deal between the planetary government and the IBC. A contract had been arranged for an external auditing service and he had been assigned to it. It seemed that the Isenoan military had failed several inventory counts of concerning materials. Namely, several tons of Baradium grade explosives and thermal detonators alongside a catalogs worth of blaster weaponry, conventional melee weaponry, energy cells, and remote detonators. How precisely skimming of this magnitude occurred initially was beyond Lon but the cause eventually presented itself in two parts.
Firstly, the culprits within the existing military structure had been rather sloppy with their work, at least they had been to a forensic auditor like Lon. It only took Lon three Isenoan day cycles to evaluate the paperwork and find holes in the inventory counts conducted. From there, he was able to come up with a list of likely candidates based upon which of the personnel were on shift and been assigned to the areas in question. All of this information was reported on and stored both in a datachip at his hotel room with a backup file located on his company issued space yacht. Now, Lon could have simply sent this information via secured channels back to the IBC and his employers but terms of his contract determined that he must pass off the reports directly to a contact within the Isenoan military command.
Secondly, within the last Isenoan cycle, he had begun to receive hastily scrawled threats. He would receive them beneath the door to his hotel room, in his rented cloud car, and even at restaurants he had made reservations at. While a certain level of hostility was expected in his field, Lon had never experienced a criminal element as persistent or as well informed as this. To say it unnerved him would have been an understatement. Even with this in mind, Lon understood he had a job to accomplish and had trudged forward with his duties, albeit with more caution than usual.
With these pressures facing him it was no wonder that Lon couldn't wait to leave this horrid world behind and return to his home office on Mygeeto. It was the only thing he thought about was the written message on a piece of paper that sat in the pocket of his trousers. The written message had been waiting for him at his reserved table in the Queen's Treasure, it say directly in the middle of the table. It was another threat, it warned of his final opportunity to abandon his duties and return to the IBC or face "their wrath"; it was another threat ignored. Lon finished his meal in relative peace before paying his bill, leaving his waitress a sizable tip, and beginning the trip back to his resort for the evening.
The trip back to the resort was uneventful, outside of a few traffic jams due mainly to rush hour as being returned home to their floating skyrise apartments and condominiums. Even the trip back to his room on the thirty-second floor seemed unusually quiet to Lon. As he reached his room, Lon glanced down at his chronometer, it read 18:00 Galactic Standard Time, he tapped his entry band against door's surface. As it slid open, Lon swore he heard a strange audible noise.
Click
It was the last thing he ever heard.
Location: Lower Warhoun, Scoundrel's End Pub - 1600 GST
Down in Lower Warhoun it was a different world from the privileged lives led by the pompous capitalists above. Down here in the warrens of the city it was a dark, akk eat akk world. Where the strongest, cleverest, or simply the luckiest survived to live another day. But even in the most fierce of predatory ecosystems, there is always neutral grounds between predators and prey, at the watering holes. For Lower Warhoun, one of these watering holes was known was the Scoundrel's End Pub, and it was owned and maintained by the Boochi Cartel. A syndicate of Besalisk and Noghri crime families that had joined together in order to profit from the hives of Lower Warhoun and they maintained a zero tolerance policy on petty gang scuffles in their turf. Because of this, Scoundrel's End became known as a "No hostilities" zone with a price of disappearance if any scum was caught violating that unspoken understanding.
Beyond the pair of Besalisk thugs (whom acted as armed door guards), past the repurposed blast door which slid open with a manual button press that was punctuated by a near deafening screech of metal scrubbing against metal, and down a flight of stairs that was poorly lit with flickering lumens, laid the Pub proper. Scantily clad women and men of assorted species danced seductively on a stage as well as various tables throughout the bar itself. Drinks were poured at a busy island style bar where deathstick and spice peddlers pushed their wares on all too willing patrons. The Scoundrel's End was truly a hive of scum and villainy but more importantly, it was a wellspring of information for those who knew how to look.
As the early evening activities within the Scoundrel's End played out per their usual routine a pair of new faces would enter the bar. A human male alongside a togruta took the final step into the bar and were met by the overwhelming sights of pure and unadulterated hedonism.
@Altaris @Apollyon
