<font color="orange">Kalil, Etti IV.

Kalil, not the prime location Marlzul would wish to be in presently, but it was far more better than the last place he had came across; a jungle-like planet with tall somewhat humanoids creatures covered in fur ranging from black to light brown. He had been searching for him ... the Jedi Master known as Gash Jiren. Kashyyyk, the first place he had chosen to search for the Jedi, was a sufficient enough of time wasted that he would hear something from the Boss.

With his index finger on his left hand, the Devaronian pushed a series of turqouise buttons on the main screen's central control panel, while he used his right hand to pull a blade lever down slowly. This was the deceleration equalizer he was activating, a special component that was added to his starship while on Ambria, which helped keep his ship's content from been tossed around during the deceleration period.

He wondered if Luin was still in business. Luin Luing, was a friend of his from his earlier Jedi days; that he and his Jedi mentor had saved, with the rest of the Sullustan's family, last time he had heard from him was over twelve months ago just after he had bought two landing bays from an overweight Twi'lek on Etti IV. Perhaps, Luin gots an empty landing bay, handy. Marlzul thought to himself as he tapped in the coordinations to the landing bays of his Sullustan friend.

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Marlzul walked the densely populated market area of Kalil. Aquatic blue Twi'lek's in violet shawls passed by him, as did Tunroth dawning the New Republic/Rogue Jedi Order emblem on their crimson colored uniforms, if ever did find Gash Jiren would he even be able to get a clear shot at him. For how crowded this part of the city was, and the enourmous variety of species inhabiting the streets he could have taken it for Coruscant. And, like Coruscant, Etti IV wasn't lax on protection of the captial city and planet itself.

Gash Jiren had to be somewhere near ... he could feel it.</font>

Ossan Parliament Embassy, Etti IV

"Of course," Gash Jiren said, smirking slightly. "There is always a catch, is there not?"

The smile was not returned by the man opposite to Gash, seated comfortably in one of the two Cardooine oaken-chairs which were positioned in the the Council of Ten office. That man was Cerl Quentor, one of the Council of Ten appointed by the business community on Etti IV following it's conquest by the Rogue Jedi Order. The Council of Ten acted as the official ambassadors of the Ossan Parliament's will on Etti IV, and, as such, were the rulers of the urban world.

While Aargau, the capital of the Corporate Sector, had recieved a similar treatment, in terms of electing new leadership, Etti IV's election process had been especially important. The sheer amount of credits which flowed in and out of the Banking World on a daily basis rivaled Coruscant and far surpassed Aargau. In the wrong hands, those funds could be devastating to the New Republic war effort.

'I do not appreciate your humor, Sovereign-Elect Jiren. This is a serious matter requiring the serious attention of the Ossan Parliament; in all honesty, I am quite displeased that the Parliament chose to send you instead of an impartial ambassador." Cerl did not break his somber demeanor even once.

"And I do not appreciate your tone. The Parliament does not "send" me anywhere; I chose to come. I built the Rogue Jedi Order with my bear hands; and I rule it. Personally, if necessary."

'The Ossan Parliament doesn't seem to think that,' Replied Cerl cooly, smiling a thin, predatory grin. 'They managed to oust you pretty efficiently, just in time for Thrawn to occupy Ossus.'

That stung. The Chiss War was still pretty fresh in everyone's memory. "Admirable candor. What is it that you want?"

'In exchange for the Precautionary Measures Tax act, I want the Alpha Division of the Neo-Katana Fleet to defend the Higian Trade Route from Etti IV to Aargau.'

Gash snorted. "I think you overestimate my sway in the New Republic navy. High Admiral or not, I cannot just snap my fingers and make a task force appear."

'Then we have nothing to discuss. You may leave my office.'

Then... there it was. In the back of Gash's mind, an awareness of impending danger--one which told Gash he hadn't the time to waste haggling with some nonsensical beaureaucrat. "As you wish." He stood, and with him, the various bodyguards and aides, both of Gash himself and Cerl Quentor. Yet, Cerl himself remained seated.

Gash stepped away from the desk, glancing back briefly--and noticing that Quentor had remained seated. Fire burned in his red eyes as he turned to face him again.

"No. Here's what I think we have to discuss, Councilman Quentor. I am quite well aware of your business interests, legitimate and less so, on the Higian trade route. I can call a hundred different business associates of yours, and in minutes, not only have you ousted from the Council of Ten, but have your corporation's business destroyed. I am the Sovereign-Elect of the Rogue Jedi Order, and I don't have the time to pretend to humor your petty personal interests. The Ossan Parliament is not a tool with which you may futher your profit margins. You will vote in accordance with the Council on the Precautionary Measures act, or I will have you arrested, exposed, court marshalled, and imprisoned faster than even you can cheat and lie your way out of.

"And everyone stands when I leave the room."

Cerl Quentor stood, grimacing, and defeated. He extended his hand, unblinkingly holding the crimson stare of Gash Jiren. 'Always a pleasure, Sovereign.'

Gash nodded, paying no heed to the extended hand. He turned on his heel, storming from Quentor's office with his entourage in hot persuit. One of his aides, a young human, kept pace with him. 'Superbly handled, sir.'

"Thank you. But contact the New Republic, and inform them we will not be returning as planned."

'Sir?'

"Return to the Presidential Office with the rest of the men. I am capable of handling myself."

<font color="orange">Marlzul walked casually around a six by three foot long wooden cart, the lumber used to make the cart made from the rare Ouquai tree found sparsely in the few forest areas of Etti IV; he knew it was made from the wilderness tree by its distinctive smell, not a smell you can put a word or name to, but a smell that you know has no equal. Sadly, this smell had been dulled over by the smell of raw fish. The man who owned the cart, a member of the Gotal alien species with a thin white mustache and beard which looked like it had been gelled to be perfected, shouted out to the passing by civilians of Kalil, of the once-in-a-lifetime opprotunity to own the rare red-spotted zlanderfish. With a quick glance at the fish, though the Devaronian could tell that that was no zlanderfish, but mere salmÿn fish that could be found in any large body of water or fairly wide rivers. Marlzul chuckled under his breath at the Gotal, he was so clueless, the lumber he is using as a cart would be almost twice if not three times more credits worth than those zlanderfish imitations.

Marlzul passed other carts similar to the first one, before entering a narrow gloomy alleyway. The rays of sunlight casted from the sun failed to reach the bottom of the alley, though through the brilliant lights in the main streets and walkways he could make out three adumbrations of fur-covered humanoids. Upon further examination it was a trio of younger Selonians, the ferret lookalike creautres. All dawned similar clothing, long tope colored pants tied at the waist with a brown leather belt and brass belt fastener. They have been playing a game with two crimson colored dice before he had came upon them; with a snarl the trio of boys had dispersed from the alleyway with trepidation.

At his arrival at the end of the alleyway, he noticed it was largely different from the otherside of the street. The otherside of the street had indoor food and beverage sales, with dozens upon dozens of small and large carts and stands. This side of the street, was partaking in some sort of parade. Half a dozen rows of flag-holders were the first to go by, rows alternating from males to females; though both genders wore similar overcoats of a dark blue with green specks on the arm section and down the cloak's sides, also seen was the white undershirt beneath the overcoats. All the women wore their hair long, fully braided halfway down their backs which Marlzul would have guessed was customary, or traditionally done in their civilization. Behind the flag-holders were three rows of kloo horn players. All dressed similar to each other as well; with knee-high brown boots, and yellow trousers ruffled at the knee where they were cuffed a bit over the top section of the boot, a bright yellow tunic designed ornately was worn over a barely visible prestine white undertunic, the final piece of clothing was a black robe to wear over the tunic. The next to come were Marlzul's from all of the ones before; a quartet of blue-skinned Rutian Twi'leks who wore fashionable orange Tromic form-fitting unigarments, each having their own set of multi-colored shawls that they used to tease the awestrucken men gawking at them.

He could not have asked for anything more perfect than what was currently happening, if he could've even planned it himself. With the audience enthralled in the performance done by the members of the parade, they would never suspect an offworld Devaronian to slaughter there Sovereign Gash Jiren. He tapped his Telltrig-7, a small handout blaster that was issued half a decade ago, hilt menacingly as he thought about his bounty that would soon to be collected.</font>