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Star Wars New Sith Trials II: Rise of the Hand

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth, Dec 31, 2016.

  1. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades
    Temple of Izax, New Moraband

    Hades didn't like it when things did not go as planned. The Temple was crumbling and all of its secrets lost in the collapse. He would petition that they excavate the ruins and rubble later because he was sure there was more here.​

    He, Finis, Morrigan and the rest were now on the shuttle as the others followed. He knew why his shuttle had been chosen. It was loaded down with things that would make this failed trip worth the delays and distractions it had caused.​

    Hades watched as the Temple crumbled and then they were zooming away. Lady Bellorum took his cabin, though technically, the shuttle wasn't actually his. He gave her a few minutes to gather herself together and then he pressed the call button for the cabin she was occupying.​

    "Where would you have us go, Mi'lady?"​

    TAG: dragonsith13, Lady Belligerent
     
  2. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Darth Insipid
    Hyperspace

    His new apprentice showed teeth; a detonator? The God-Emperor smiled, slowly. ‘Brilliant.’

    With a crooked finger, the detonator sailed into his hand. ‘Very good, Saadi.’ He released the man, holding the sphere in the eery light. Insipid nodded, and snapped his finger, ending the illusion. ‘You please me.’

    ‘But now we are being tugged into a direction not of my choosing. While I have ordered Ike’s death, as my former consort, I realise that until I understand events, perhaps using little Kronos in such a manner would be inefficient. I shall have need of him; my greatest piece on the board.’

    A presentment filled the Force. ‘Our colleagues have been ambushed; those who we just left. A pity. I liked High Lord Hespar. But that will result in a more than mildly deficit in our numbers.’

    Darth Insipid gestured, a hologram appearing from his comlink, suddenly to hand. ‘The casino ship we are approaching, the Luxury Elite. As my apprentice you will be expected to not just consort with the highest political levels, but the lowest. Ingratiate yourself with them. Become part of them; imbibe upon their sins and revel in them. You cannot be solid, you must be solid - any principle you held fast to is a chord that can trip you... or strangle you.’

    ‘The same can be said of attachments, my apprentice.’ Insipid nodded. ‘Expect betrayal, and exist above it.’

    ‘You need only hold onto one thing.’ Insipid smiled. ‘The Rule. The Rule of Seven.’ As he spoke, he keyed in a message to Kronos, pocketing the detonator and gesturing to the cracked scar running down his face. ‘When I became the creature foretold in the Celestial Holocron - Snoke - I bathed in the knowledge of the Rule of Seven. A rule that Lord Sidious touched upon in his writings, but never fully enacted. Seven Sith is the perfect number to crush all opposition, but also to balance out competing rivalries; if One Sith acts against the interests of the Seven will they be struck down, and no Two Sith can take control of such a close knit group.’

    ‘I have already selected six to form part of my Seven. You are that Seventh, Apprentice.’

    Insipid had talked a lot; he acknowledged that. So he allowed his mouth to rest and finished his message to Kronos.

    Leave Ike be. I have need for you here.

    He attached coordinates, and kept the message unencrypted. It would be picked up by the Sith Imperial network. It may be that Bellorum and Haretisch would pick it up. The annoying Chiss reporter would probably.

    On a second channel, encrypted to within an inch of its digital life, he sent the message onwards to Kronos and Esmerelda. ‘I name you two the Fifth and Sixth; I elevate you beyond the coil of the Rule of Three; you need not seek access to the Triumvirate. I declare the Rule of Seven, and I choose you both. Rendezvous at the coordinates given; it is time to reveal ourselves.’ Making Esmerelda the Sixth guaranteed a non-Force user’s view.

    He sent the same message to Anark, but referenced him as the Second, and requested he bring his Jedi charges; or allow them to come. He hesitated over Skelm. But then he shrugged. Skelm was wily; he would ally with Insipid if he had means and opportunity. Insipid sent a similarly heavily encrypted message to him, and named him the Third. That would rankle. Similarly, however, as Insipid found a disquiet - a distrust - he sent the same message to Soliloquy and also named him the Third. Why not?

    That left the Fourth. Insipid grinned. He sent the message onwards, and smiled to himself. He had another message drafted as well, but he would not reveal it, not even by thought; he could not run the risk of the Force picking up the vein of his thoughts and allowing a Vision to reach another. The Fourth was detached at the moment, Insipid need not admit his identity either.

    What Insipid did notice is that it took his HoloNet relay some time to locate Kronos; he was not in the traditional locale of the Empire of the Hand; perhaps not in the Unknown Regions at all. Insipid glowered; he would forgive Kronos, perhaps. Perhaps. If he showed up then all would be accepted. The message sent; burrowing into the aether of cyberspace. Hm.

    God-Emperor Snoke, Darth Insipid, the reincarnated Son of the Celestials, focused on the words of his apprentice. Let him revel in the moment of escalation.

    Seven.


    Zakuul

    In typical God-Emperor fashion, the signal he sent played aloud regardless of whom was around, and as such it played in the middle of Anark’s detente with T’tkura and Radian.

    Draco pulled a face when the message was played. ‘Looks like Darth Insipid is making his move. I vote we insinuate ourselves; use this authority to get off Zakuul, and work out what to do next.’

    ‘Master Radian, T’tkura, it’s up to you... but I’m taking a sanisteam while you debate.’ He had no interests in arguing with the Jedi; they turned committee at the slightest moment. Draco nodded to Anark. He didn’t sense any deception in the man; they wouldn’t, what with how random the message had been.


    Battle at Snow World

    The Super Star Destroyer, tentatively tagged as the Eclipse, seemed to be finished. The Insipid yawed, power flickering out, echoing with the sounds of a capital ship straining against its own skeleton, momentum tearing at its structure even as it tried to settle, punctuated by the sounds of detonations of pierced weapons magazines, the screams of the wounded, and barks of officers with nobody left to command.

    In the hangar, lights the engagement the magcon field had given way, ejecting the contents of the bay into cold space. Barrett had lost track of Cocytus and Osnil, and some of the others, but he Mallace, Valdimar, Titus, Hesper, Soliloquy and the second Tusken had made it aboard the Tusken ship, more ham half scooped up by the Tusken. The ship was suddenly buffeted by the Destroyer buckling, it’s roof smashing down on the Kterskt. For a long moment the ships power cut due to the jostling, and they sailed out of the hangar, skipping more than once from one piece of debris to another.

    Into this the Emperor AI snorted, deep in the minds eye of the droid Soliloquy, silent to everyone else. ‘They should have just destroyed us. That would be neat, and tidy. Grand Admiral Sloane, no doubt, exerting herself against Hux and the others.’

    ‘But all the better that they did not, no?’ The Sidious facsimile grinned. ‘My friend! Rejoice! You live.’ A pause, and the withered man held a orb of glowing blue in his hand. ‘And, before the comm was blown apart you had a message. From your God-Emperor. I have it, as you were busy. I could play it in loud, so your fellow Sith know the game you play?’ Another orb. ‘Or I could play the sound byte of the chat you had with the Grand Admiral?’

    The Emperor AI spoke, softly. ‘I would renegotiate the deal.’

    For the others however they had a brief moment to ascertain their wounds - Titus had his shoulder a gash upon it, Mallace a flutter of debris had slipped across her forehead and opened a wound, Hesper’s ankle was actually twisted - and to also realise that the scraping, terrible, ejection from the dying Destroyer had damaged their hyperdrive. This information would reach the Tusken brothers first, and they would have the inevitable issue as to how to manage a group of Sith trapped on a tomb of a ship with.... five hours of air.

    Ignoring the fact that the moment they powered back up in any dramatic fashion the SSD would detect them.

    And end them.


    Csilla

    It was a mere moment; the enemy had feinted; they turned in unison on Invadator and opened up on her together - her body was riddled with fire, and she died. Finally.

    In the exchange with her half of the survivors died, and the remainder were killed by Kwea’s attack and the Chiss officers shots. An awful silence fell upon the room; shock, pure and simple. It was over.

    One of the Chiss elite stepped forward into the quiet, reaching for his cowl and face-mask. The other Chiss stirred, obviously unhappy that an identity was revealed - but the weathered man beneath his robes showed an expression that was grateful. ‘Lady Kwea,’ he started. ‘I am the Doctor you sought.’

    The Chiss officer shrugged. ‘Yes, we knew your true identities. We had thought we had sufficient precautions to confront you here and now - disarmed, in theory - but those precautions were throughly infiltrated by this ‘First Order.’’ The General looked rueful. Of course he would; the Chiss had lost nobody.

    The doctor took over. ‘So we are similarly aware of your plight, and the conflict on Zakuul that went awry, injuring Lord Haretisch’s daughter.’ He stepped forward, a datapad to hand. ‘This includes sufficient medical data to assist. Your ship will be loaded with medical supplies for not just your task, but for your hospitality needs. Sith lack such skills naturally.’

    It was unspoken that the Chiss were just as prepared to kill the Sith present. Another robed man spoke up. ‘The Nine Families have yet to agree to this.’

    ‘It is my data, and my supplies. Lady Kwea needs to hurry to the Ilum system.’

    The others grew stoic. ‘We will not involve ourselves in such matters.’ A firm voice responded.

    ‘The Order struck us!’

    ‘How do you know we were the target? The First Order may have only acted as we agreed to meet with a Sith!’

    The Chiss officer stepped close to Kwea, a whisper. ‘I will have your droid cleaned up and your colleague prepared for you to take back to Zakuul.’ He paused. ‘A Sith task force approached Ilum and has been ambushed by the First Order. You will want to get there swiftly...’ another pause. ‘We are in your debt.’

    The doctor-syndic spoke more forcibly. ‘I do not suggest we go to war. But we must make absolutely clear that we will. A fleet on the edge of their borders will force the First Order to divert from their ambush to prepare against us... especially as their victory at Ilum is assured. High Lady Hespar and her team will likely not make it.’

    Silence. They looked to Kwea. ‘Do you accept what the doctor offers, not as a gesture of friendship us and your Sith Order, but purely balancing out we we appear to owe? We shall not join your war, but we will defend our neutrality. From you, or the First Order.’

    The doctor and officer glanced to Kwea. She could in theory insist on more, to rail and to rage; maybe she could kill them all - there was only the officer left alive who could defend the Chiss elite. But if what the Chiss here said was true... that High Lady Hespar was in danger and the Chiss were offering to help...


    Lah’mu

    Kronos and Esmerelda did, indeed, show each other how to spend their time together anew.

    Waking first, Esme sat in the quiet for a few moments and surveyed her surroundings in the morning twilight. Resolved, she was up and dressed and showered, even before her Sith Lord lover stirred - giving her a moment to appreciate just how to handsome he was; awkward in himself at heart, but so resolute in his control and identity as Darth Kronos, that he would never yield that much of his personality to anyone.

    Save for her.

    That openness was precision, and no one, not God Emperor or Grand Admiral, would interfere with that.

    Esme had brought some of her personal effects, in-case they intended to simply not come back, and she took them from her person and placed them on the shelves, though some were cracked. A bracelet her parents gave her to commemorate graduation, which, in typical fashion, had been too small for her but she had kept it nonetheless now took a position of pride in the blackened shelf.

    She also began, while humming as Cassian dressed and so forth, making a small list of things, before she absently had the shuttle go through preflight. By the time he joined her, she was already threading through screens, demonstrating a technical aptitude that she hadn’t been required to use since those aforementioned days of study. It had been a students prerogative to quietly access databases with forged keys, to avoid having to pay the exorbitant fees that museums and so forth charged to access their records, information which, in her opinion, should have been available to all.

    And so she did the same to the local HoloNet relay, setting up a quiet tap and gathering the one thing that would both endear and antagonise the said God-Emperor and Grand Admiral. When Kronos arrived, she glanced to him with a broad smile. ‘Morning sweetie.’

    ‘I’ve a couple of ideas on where we go forward from here, but there is also a message for you. It tried to play aloud but I muted it while I was working.’ A quirk of humour. ‘What did you want first? The future, the Emperor, or a kiss?’


    Aboard the Luxury Elite, cabin

    In a quiet room there was a man, a man who was, for all intends and purposes, at a loose end. No longer briefed by the Grand Admiral, and isolated from the Sith hierarchy by his own actions, strictly speaking, the man had very little going for him, Grand Moffship aside. His personal retinue had been infiltrated by the First Order and tried to kill Kronos and his team; his ex-lover had came back to handle the fallout, and sent him fleeing from the flagship when he had failed to even slightly intimidate a basic Holocron like Soliloquy.

    But he still had his command, and he could commandeer Imperial assets, whenever he sought. He also had little doubt that Bellorum had her fingers in the Luxury Elite, and thus she was here. He was not the political mastermind that Insipid was, nor the straight forward powerhouse that Haretisch was. No, he thought like Bell, in terms of the wants of the flesh. He could understand her, and get close to her...

    ... and then what?

    Kill her? The woman who had been his only genuine friend, standing beside him against Apollyon, crying for him at Mortis, only for him to turn on her while he fled Insipid?

    No.

    A decision was made.

    No longer would his ex-husband dictate his actions. Shedding his Moff uniform, he reached into his suitcase and produced the purple silk cloak Bell had given him so many weeks ago, donning Sith clothing anew and grinning at himself in the mirror as he worked on coifing his blonde hair.

    Ike was back.

    TAG: Darth Kronos (Kronos combo), Halle Dray, HanSolo29, Mitth_Fisto (combo), Mostlymad, Snokers, Darth Master Titus, ConservativeJedi321, dragonsith13, Dagobahsystem,

    All responses are required within two weeks of this post.


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk[/b]
     
  3. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Antares Draco
    Zakuul

    In typical God-Emperor fashion, the signal he sent played aloud regardless of whom was around, and as such it played in the middle of Anark’s detente with T’tkura and Radian.

    Draco pulled a face when the message was played. ‘Looks like Darth Insipid is making his move. I vote we insinuate ourselves; use this authority to get off Zakuul, and work out what to do next.’

    ‘Master Radian, T’tkura, it’s up to you... but I’m taking a sanisteam while you debate.’ He had no interests in arguing with the Jedi; they turned committee at the slightest moment. Draco nodded to Anark. He didn’t sense any deception in the man; they wouldn’t, what with how random the message had been.


    Csilla

    It was a mere moment; the enemy had feinted; they turned in unison on Invadator and opened up on her together - her body was riddled with fire, and she died. Finally.

    In the exchange with her half of the survivors died, and the remainder were killed by Kwea’s attack and the Chiss officers shots. An awful silence fell upon the room; shock, pure and simple. It was over.

    One of the Chiss elite stepped forward into the quiet, reaching for his cowl and face-mask. The other Chiss stirred, obviously unhappy that an identity was revealed - but the weathered man beneath his robes showed an expression that was grateful. ‘Lady Kwea,’ he started. ‘I am the Doctor you sought.’

    The Chiss officer shrugged. ‘Yes, we knew your true identities. We had thought we had sufficient precautions to confront you here and now - disarmed, in theory - but those precautions were throughly infiltrated by this ‘First Order.’’ The General looked rueful. Of course he would; the Chiss had lost nobody.

    The doctor took over. ‘So we are similarly aware of your plight, and the conflict on Zakuul that went awry, injuring Lord Haretisch’s daughter.’ He stepped forward, a datapad to hand. ‘This includes sufficient medical data to assist. Your ship will be loaded with medical supplies for not just your task, but for your hospitality needs. Sith lack such skills naturally.’

    It was unspoken that the Chiss were just as prepared to kill the Sith present. Another robed man spoke up. ‘The Nine Families have yet to agree to this.’

    ‘It is my data, and my supplies. Lady Kwea needs to hurry to the Ilum system.’

    The others grew stoic. ‘We will not involve ourselves in such matters.’ A firm voice responded.

    ‘The Order struck us!’

    ‘How do you know we were the target? The First Order may have only acted as we agreed to meet with a Sith!’

    The Chiss officer stepped close to Kwea, a whisper. ‘I will have your droid cleaned up and your colleague prepared for you to take back to Zakuul.’ He paused. ‘A Sith task force approached Ilum and has been ambushed by the First Order. You will want to get there swiftly...’ another pause. ‘We are in your debt.’

    The doctor-syndic spoke more forcibly. ‘I do not suggest we go to war. But we must make absolutely clear that we will. A fleet on the edge of their borders will force the First Order to divert from their ambush to prepare against us... especially as their victory at Ilum is assured. High Lady Hespar and her team will likely not make it.’

    Silence. They looked to Kwea. ‘Do you accept what the doctor offers, not as a gesture of friendship us and your Sith Order, but purely balancing out we we appear to owe? We shall not join your war, but we will defend our neutrality. From you, or the First Order.’

    The doctor and officer glanced to Kwea. She could in theory insist on more, to rail and to rage; maybe she could kill them all - there was only the officer left alive who could defend the Chiss elite. But if what the Chiss here said was true... that High Lady Hespar was in danger and the Chiss were offering to help...


    Lah’mu

    Kronos and Esmerelda did, indeed, show each other how to spend their time together anew.

    Waking first, Esme sat in the quiet for a few moments and surveyed her surroundings in the morning twilight. Resolved, she was up and dressed and showered, even before her Sith Lord lover stirred - giving her a moment to appreciate just how to handsome he was; awkward in himself at heart, but so resolute in his control and identity as Darth Kronos, that he would never yield that much of his personality to anyone.

    Save for her.

    That openness was precision, and no one, not God Emperor or Grand Admiral, would interfere with that.

    Esme had brought some of her personal effects, in-case they intended to simply not come back, and she took them from her person and placed them on the shelves, though some were cracked. A bracelet her parents gave her to commemorate graduation, which, in typical fashion, had been too small for her but she had kept it nonetheless now took a position of pride in the blackened shelf.

    She also began, while humming as Cassian dressed and so forth, making a small list of things, before she absently had the shuttle go through preflight. By the time he joined her, she was already threading through screens, demonstrating a technical aptitude that she hadn’t been required to use since those aforementioned days of study. It had been a students prerogative to quietly access databases with forged keys, to avoid having to pay the exorbitant fees that museums and so forth charged to access their records, information which, in her opinion, should have been available to all.

    And so she did the same to the local HoloNet relay, setting up a quiet tap and gathering the one thing that would both endear and antagonise the said God-Emperor and Grand Admiral. When Kronos arrived, she glanced to him with a broad smile. ‘Morning sweetie.’

    ‘I’ve a couple of ideas on where we go forward from here, but there is also a message for you. It tried to play aloud but I muted it while I was working.’ A quirk of humour. ‘What did you want first? The future, the Emperor, or a kiss?’


    Aboard the Luxury Elite, cabin

    In a quiet room there was a man, a man who was, for all intends and purposes, at a loose end. No longer briefed by the Grand Admiral, and isolated from the Sith hierarchy by his own actions, strictly speaking, the man had very little going for him, Grand Moffship aside. His personal retinue had been infiltrated by the First Order and tried to kill Kronos and his team; his ex-lover had came back to handle the fallout, and sent him fleeing from the flagship when he had failed to even slightly intimidate a basic Holocron like Soliloquy.

    But he still had his command, and he could commandeer Imperial assets, whenever he sought. He also had little doubt that Bellorum had her fingers in the Luxury Elite, and thus she was here. He was not the political mastermind that Insipid was, nor the straight forward powerhouse that Haretisch was. No, he thought like Bell, in terms of the wants of the flesh. He could understand her, and get close to her...

    ... and then what?

    Kill her? The woman who had been his only genuine friend, standing beside him against Apollyon, crying for him at Mortis, only for him to turn on her while he fled Insipid?

    No.

    A decision was made.

    No longer would his ex-husband dictate his actions. Shedding his Moff uniform, he reached into his suitcase and produced the purple silk cloak Bell had given him so many weeks ago, donning Sith clothing anew and grinning at himself in the mirror as he worked on coifing his blonde hair.

    Ike was back.

    TAG: ConservativeJedi321, dragonsith13, Halle Dray, Snokers, Darth Kronos (combo)


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  4. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    IC - Darth Cocytus

    An internal return to the Story



    While Darth Cocytus waited in the main hangar, he prepared himself for the coming mission. The kaminoan spent some time in a corner of the room, training with the blade, and meditating his thoughts on General Barrett. The chiss still seemed as arrogant as he was foolish in his thoughts on the Sith, with an ego the size of a planet. However his military wisdom was something the young Sith found surprisingly to be respected. Regardless, Barrett was a fool, and he’d better watch his back when dealing with Sith.

    While in his meditation, sitting on the floor of the main hangar, Cocytus also began having thoughts about his apprenticeship under his master, Lady Hesper. He too had visions of that ending very soon. It was about time really. The Sith Priest was looking forward to expanding his power and taking on the title Sith Inquisitor. Darth Cocytus have found many Sith among the ranks to be… impure. It would be good to purge them like the weakling they are. Perhaps I myself will find an apprentice of my own as well. He thought to himself, I should take one as to better myself as well as whoever this apprentice would be.


    When the time came and Cocytus got up to rejoin his compatriot, though, all hell broke loose. A sudden shudder of the ship knocked the evil kaminoan right off his feet, slamming him into the floor. The kriff?! cursed Cocytus in his thoughts, as he got into his feet and looked around. His glowing orange eyes narrowed as chaos Reigned in on the ship with the all too familiar green laser blasts raining down from outside. We are under attack! By the First Order again, no less! Fools! Curse them all to Chaos! So that was what that uneasy feeling was about!


    Time was of the essence. No time to dawdle. As the ship began to fall apart, Cocytus’ heart beated with fear. Something in the force warned him of some sort of danger and now the Priest saw himself right to have taken it to extreme. He jumped and flipped, dodging the tie fighters that rained down on the floor. One such Tie Fighter fell directly down upon the Cocytus, causing him to react by cutting it to pieces with a swing of his blades. Seeing no other choice but to evacuate the now doomed Little Insipid the Sith Kaminoan now began seeking a ship that was still in flyable condition. Finding people boarding the Tusken ship The Kterskt, Cocytus sprinted up the ramp and join his fellow Sith. Scrambling find space aboard, he quickly managed to find a spot as the ship tried to jettson into Open Space. However, Cocytus was knocked once more off his feet as roof of the Hanger fell upon The Kterskt. The Kaminoan merely limped out into the cold void while the obliterated Star Destroyer was behind.

    After a moment Cocytus finally catched his breath and recollected himself. He looked out into space and stared menacingly at the Super Star Destroyer that attacked them. His eyes narrowed, burning coldly with pure unadulterated hatred. “Who does the First Order think they are?” he hissed coldly and softly to any Sith who was at his side, “Do they seek war against the mighty Sith? Do they know who they are dealing with? They are arrogant fools declaring war on the Dark Side itself…”

    Cocytus snarled softly before turning to the Sith before him. His eyes were empty of all emotion except anger and hate. "What now?" He asked in his calm soft voice, though dripping with his signature coldness, "I suggest patience for now. The enemy is still out there and will detect us if we try anything foolish. Sooner or later, they should leave. Any suggestions what to do in the meantime?"

    Tag: Sinrebirth, corinthia, Darth Osnil, Darth Master Titus, WookieeRage, Darth Kronos, Mostlymad



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  5. Isley_27

    Isley_27 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Dec 22, 2016
    IC: Derin/Alva, Boba Fett (Combo with Wanderguard)
    Luxury Elite Casino Floor to Guest Room

    "Keep your voice down," Fett instructed, walking briskly down one of the less traveled walkways of the hotel with a disguised Alva in tow. As the pair drew further along, a struggle could be heard in the distance, and with the increase in volume Fett seemed to grow more agitated.

    When at last they came to a door, it was flung open and Alva shoved inside seemingly in one motion. As it slammed shut behind with Fett just inside, it would become clear that the two were no longer alone.

    "Mmmff! MRRRFFFF!" came the cries of presumably gagged man from across the room. His head was hidden by a bag, and he was strapped tightly to a chair. There were three others in the room as well - all armed, and all dressed like they were ready for a fight. Bounty hunters.

    "I told you to keep him quiet," Fett rasped.

    In response, the largest one drove a fist roughly into the prisoner's stomach, reducing his fit to little more than a strained whimper. "Better?" the bounty hunter snapped.

    "No, but it will be soon. I've figured out a way to get rid of him," Fett looked to Alva.

    Outwardly Derin took in the entire scene with a low laugh, like he was unaware of what was going on around him. Inwardly however, Alva's curiosity was on high alert. What had he just been pulled into? Yet he was content to play along, plus whatever kept Boba Fett here and away from Kralkus's position worked out all the same.

    "Ah no, looks like somebody's in trouble!" Derin turned and leaned towards Fett's visor, as if to whisper something. "Guess he wasn't a friend of yours." His whisper then turned into a slight shout, "Not like us! Best pals for life!" He gave Boba the friendly gesture of a slap on the back, despite his jetpack taking up most of the space.

    "Yeah... Best friends," Fett repeated dryly. "Listen, friend, you're interested in making some credits. And I happen to need assistance."

    With a nod from the ringleader, a bounty hunter seized the bag over the prisoner's head and pulled it free, revealing a craggy, scarred forehead marked with red, deep sunken eyes, and one hollow cheek.

    The face was Insipid's. But when the bounty hunter reached for his knife to cut the gag away from the prisoner's mouth, and then he spoke, it became clear that the voice was not that of the Emperor.

    "You have to let me go!" the prisoner yelled in a harsh, quivering whisper. "I'm not Darth Insipid!"

    "Shut up," Fett snapped. "Derin," he paused, "Kato, is it? This man," he started, gesturing to Fauxsipid, "is very important. And very recognizable, as you can see. He's also 'missing'."

    What Boba neglected to mention was that he had been hired to dispose of the man The Family was using as a Darth Insipid impersonator to leverage more favorable business dealings. As of a few hours prior, there was a very frenetic and yet very discrete manhunt taking place aboard the ship, and sooner than later it would reach the room they were standing in, which happened to be checked out to an alias traceable to Fett himself. Meanwhile the client's funds had turned out to be no good, and even Boba Fett knew there was no easy way out of running afoul of The Family. He needed out of the job, and cleanly. That's where Mr. Derin Kato came into the picture.

    "What I need from you," Fett began to explain, before striking the prisoner with a stiff backhand, "is to get him somewhere away from here." The impostor's head lolled to the side. A sickening crunch had sounded with the impact, and a trickle of blood was now escaping from his ear. "Cover him up. Get him on the cart," he ordered the others, gesturing to a long, wheeled table across the room. They set about the task quickly

    It would have been a lie to say that Alva had not been taken back by the face he just saw. A look-a-like of The God Emperor! The guise would have been perfect, had it not been for the absent presence of the dark side. From several moments he just stood there, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. It wasn't until Boba had acknowledged, "Derin", that snapped Alva out of his train of thought and back into the false stupor he had been portraying.

    "Sooo, how much are we talkin' here bud?" Said Derin, though it didn't really matter to Alva. "I mean, if ya got a fake Emperor around then it must be somethin' pretty fishy," he winked. "I think about-" Derin paused to scratch his head. "A thousand should cover all the troubles?" It sounded a bit outrageous, but that was the point. You'd expect a drunk to say something without really thinking it over.

    "A thousand," Boba nodded, and handed over a credit chip.

    Derin took the chip, flicked it into the air and caught it with his right hand, then placed it in the pocket of his jacket. "Pleasure doin' business with the great Boba Fett." He looked at the bound man with a smile, but inside his mind raced and wondered what he would actually do with him.

    Tag No one right now
     
  6. Darth_wanderguard

    Darth_wanderguard Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 26, 2005
    ~IC: Darth Haretisch -- The Revelator, Orbit Above New Moraband~

    This was entirely premature, Haretisch thought as he approached the bridge of the Revelator.

    Insipid was taking steps - securing and naming his retinue, if the message forwarded from Skelm's comm was to be believed. The ISIB wristbands he had outfitted the team with were truly impressive devices.

    There was a possibility that Skelm might flip allegiances once more, despite the Night Herald's best efforts. If he did, things could be sped along even further. That could present a problem, as he simply wasn't ready for this yet.

    The "God Emperor" himself was en route to the Luxury Elite. Why, Haretisch couldn't quite reason out. At best he had already caught wind of the arrangement before the combatants themselves could be briefed, and sought to race there in time to interject himself in business dealings or to begin laying plans. At worst he knew of the ISIB and would throw the Night Herald's entire faction under the landskiff before they could present a problem. Either way, his presence was needed.

    New Moraband was bright in the viewport as he stepped on to the bridge - Sanctorium stood like a rusted crown amidst the swamp which surrounded it, and the Citadel as its centerpiece jewel. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay and secure it. Under other circumstances that might have been an option, but Haretisch had already been outmaneuvered.

    "Captain," he began.

    Jerod stood at attention. "Milord?"

    "Prepare the hyperdrives. Set course for the Rago system," Haretisch could feel in his very bones that a storm was coming.

    "May I ask... what's there?" Jerod furrowed a brow.

    "The Luxury Elite," the Night Herald responded.

    TAG: no one
     
  7. Lady Belligerent

    Lady Belligerent • WNU Adoptions Coordinator• star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    IC: The Dawn Herald
    Shuttle departing Temple of Izax

    Bellorum had found herself agitated since speaking with Haretisch. He knew how to push her buttons and it made her angry he felt so familiar. She was trying to focus on the remaining messages demanding attention when Hades' voice had interrupted over the ship's comm, ’Where would you have us go, Mi'lady?’ She looked up from her datapad and glanced outside the viewport, “locate the Luxury Elite, Lord Hades.” Bellorum sighed before looking back to her datapad, “I have pressing business there.”

    Her voice trailed off and she clicked past security briefs, financial reports, letters of credit, and then settled on a message she’d been expecting. The corners of Bellorum’s lips curved and she smiled over the message, finally... this was something she’d had her many contacts searching for. Her fingers danced over the keyboard as she replied to the message and then transferred credits.

    Her smile grew as she attached an encrypted message to the PI who had procured this ‘item.'

    Please find attached the transfer of credits to the account you requested. Upon delivery of said ‘Kiffar’ a matching amount will be transferred to the account discussed. Instruct Francium to meet my shuttle when it arrives onboard the Luxury Elite. He will find accommodations and credcards waiting for him at the main check in.

    As always, it’s been a pleasure doing business.



    The frustration of what had happened in the Temple of Izax was slowly pressed aside as she read over the PI’s message again.
    Bellorum relaxed into the chair and settled her boots on the desk. She was assembling, maybe buying, loyalties. Whatever it took, she would have a staff more powerful that what Insipid and Haretisch possessed. Those loyal to her would be rewarded handsomely.

    Pieces were falling into place.

    She nested her datapad against her thighs and twisted the rings on her fingers while making plans for her new ‘associate’ Francium. Having her own Kiffar would yield more in valuable information than in credits, but she planned to make ever more credits too. Bellorum would have plenty of work for him, and was reminded of the bags weighing down the pockets of her cloak. She dug down beside the chair and retrieved the contents. The bags were dust-caked and frayed. The fabric was unlike any she had seen before, so she did her best to keep it intact so it could be identified and studied. In the top of the first bag was a choker of deep blue stones that shimmered as she pooled it into her palm. ’Hmmm, an item for Francium to check out,’ she thought as she examined the other items still in the bag. There were small idols and more gem stones, but she didn’t want to dump it all out here, with so many others aboard the shuttle. No one had seen her retrieve the items, except for VPO, and she didn’t think he would be foolish enough to mention the bags to anyone.

    The gem stones alone could be sold for a tidy sum, and who knew what else would be in the other bags. Bellorum wanted goods that were quickly turned into credits, and by now the research was well underway to cultivate, process and sell the materials from the poisonous garden beside the Temple. So, maybe the mission hadn’t been a waste after all.

    Bellorum decided her spirits were indeed lifted and she realized it felt like days since her last meal, “VPO!” Bellorum shouted, “prepare food, I’m hungry!”

    It felt good to be the Dawn Herald, but it would feel better once she was Queen of everything.

    The only thing missing was a confidant. Someone who knew her and was willing to rein her in if she needed it. Most would tell her what she wanted to hear just to selfishly spare themselves her wrath.

    If only Ike hadn’t ignored her...

    Tag: Quinlan Vos E. L.Knight dragonsith13 Sinrebirth

    —————————————-


    IC: The Boy
    the boy’s laboratory

    The boy watched Serapis’ attempt at copying his actions with the statue, “no, no, noooooo.” He smacked his forehead with his palm and put his face into his hands. “No, no nooooooo.”

    That was the last sound Serapis heard before he was enveloped into darkness.

    There was nothing but cold, and in the distance a mechanical humming.

    When he awoke sometime later, his garments were tattered to shreds. He would find that he had no weapons and was practically nude in the darkness. It would likely take some time to fully gather his whits and for him to begin to work out just where he was.

    Meanwhile, back at the castle prison, the boy was smashing vials and equipment. That was his escape route and the bloody alien should have waited until he had worked out how to control the passage. Now the wait began until another fool stumbled onto him.

    The filthy child pulled aside a tattered tapestry from the stone walls and with chalk he added a tally mark. If anyone bothered to one day pull back the nearby tapestries they would find thousands upon thousands of marks.

    Tag: DarthIshyZ

    _________________

    IC: Zalen
    cabin aboard the Luxury Elite

    Zalen had used the intelligence from Bellorum to link into the LE’s security cams. She’d stay for hours watching and learning. There were hundreds of access corridors and passages only accessible to certain employees and guards. Some appeared to only be used by those higher up the food chain. The activity in those corridors was minimal and she flagged as possible areas for her team to scout.

    She’d been using some facial recognition equipment and kept scanning the floors of the casinos and brothels for any of Haretisch’s minions. Periodically she checked to the locations of her team and noted they had made contact with Bo Etraa. Zalen studied him closely on her display and hoped they wouldn’t have to kill him.

    Her datapad chimed with an encrypted message from Bellorum saying that she was enroute, but wouldn’t be meeting with her right away. Zalen was to continue with her assignment and locate Haretisch’s people. She sighed, “I’m trying...where, oh where, can they be?” She’d whispered softly as she randomly selected a different cam.

    “Thank the Goddess, and hello Alva,” Zalen smiled as she sent coded messages to the team. The message included a sitrep of when and where she’d spotted Alva, and what he appeared to be doing. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like he was moving something... what were they up to? She quickly included a meeting point for everyone, and she trusted they would know to arrive separately and remain discrete.

    This would be good.

    Zalen tossed a cloak over her shoulders that would cover the lightsaber tucked into the back of her waistband. She checked her disguise in the mirror and hurried out the door to meet the others.

    Tag: WookieeRage QueenSabe7 Snokers
     
  8. Halle Dray

    Halle Dray Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jan 6, 2016
    IC: Kwea Acantha

    The last moments of the battle blurred into each other as the sounds became muted in Kwea's ears. As if in slow motion, Reis went down and her Master's eyes blazed a hot gold. The Chiss officer and the Sith Master finished off the final few and the sound came back.

    The room was quiet save for the labored breathing of the fighters. The aura that filled the room was heavy with death and shock. The smell of blood lingered briefly and the smell of burnt flesh replaced it.

    Kwea reattached her saber which she had used to finish off the enemy onto her belt, this time where all could see.

    On of the elite who had questioned her removed his mask and revealed a weathered, rather kind looking face. "Lady Kwea," he said, "I am the Doctor you sought."

    An uneasy shift waved through the other members of the aristocratic beings but he continued, "This includes sufficient medical data to assist. Your ship will be loaded with medical supplies for not just your task, but for your hospitality needs. Sith lack such skills naturally."

    With that, he took out a datapad and held it out to the weary Sith. She was just about to take it when one of the robed ones interjected, "The Nine Families have yet to agree on this."


    "It is my data, and my supplies. Lady Kwea needs to hurry to the Ilum system," retorted the doctor.

    The robed beings continued to argue, leaving Kwea's tired mind even more exasperated. All the Force energy she had used left her feeling like she had a hangover. A whisper came from behind as the Chiss officer said, "I will have your droid cleaned up and your colleague prepared for you to take back to Zakuul. A Sith task force approached Ilum and has been ambushed by the First Order. You will want to get there swiftly. We are in your debt."

    Finally, the robed elite posed a question to her, "Do you accept what the doctor offers, not as a gesture of friendship us and your Sith Order, but purely balancing out we we appear to owe? We shall not join your war, but we will defend our neutrality. From you, or the First Order."

    Kwea searched their minds with the Force and could find some truth with what they had said about Lady Hesper. Even if it wasn't true, she needed that datapad.

    "I do accept his offer. I will make no indication of a friendship to my superiors but explain your stance. I thank you for this." Kwea said.

    There was no fear if indeed she would encounter the First Order and she would gladly do it if her honor could be restored.

    TAGS: Sinrebirth

     
  9. dragonsith13

    dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 3, 2005
    T'Tkura
    Swamps of Zakuul

    There was no time for a grave, the small amount of stones that they had been able to gather in the short time would do. It was symbolic more than anything as any funeral ceremony was. They took comfort in knowing their brother was now one with the force.

    The talk turned to desires of the Emperor as his Sith emissary relayed wishes to which he had been made aware of. Talk of coming anticipated events and the offer for them to take safe passage off this planet. But to where? The thought of trusting the lot of them had been visited earlier, but again they had little choice. As if on cue, a transmission broadcast came across open comms, one of the Emperor address agents within his Empire. ‘Looks like Darth Insipid is making his move. I vote we insinuate ourselves; use this authority to get off Zakuul, and work out what to do next.’ Draco chimed in based on the latest transmission they had all seen. It was a message the man had wanted everyone to see intentionally, otherwise it would never have come across their ears. T’Tkura found it hard to disagree with Draco. As much as he wished to recuse himself from any upcoming fight. They were still out of their element. They had no contact with any friendly forces still, no contact or known whereabouts of the Jedi Order. If there even was a Jedi Order left? No resources to speak of, one might argue the force was all they needed. But could they continue to run in such an environment?

    Days ago, they were imprisoned on a Sith ship, resulting in their crash and being thrust onto this planet and the current situation. They had to get out there and gain some perspective on what was happening. It was time to move on.

    T’Tkura rose up after placing a last stone on Jole’s makeshift grave, coming to full height. ‘It is time to get off this rock.’ Announcing his intention to accept the offer before them.Turning he moved past Draco and past the Sith, whom was muttering to himself, the tone and feeling of mocking the dead was sad.

    T’Tkura stopped for a moment right behind the Sith as he prepared to move off to the shuttle. ‘Easy to mock the dead?’ T’Tkura spoke softly but directly at the Sith in response to what had been said about the dead and remaining living Jedi. A taunt, very un-Jedi like, but necessary. Perhaps The pack that now followed T’Tkura Scar-face. Two Fang. Short-Tail. Sharp-Claw. That was staring him down would remind him of his recent place. Scare-face, the alpha of the remaining pack, came up near T’Tkura, whom greeted the beast with a stroke. A low growl and Two Fang jumped forth taking a place at T’Tkura’s side as Scar-face returned to Short-Tail, and Sharp Claw. The alpha offering up on of their own to T’Tkura as Two Fang gladly took T’Tkura side loyally. A Jedi with a Sith War hound. What a tale.


    ‘You will have to make room for my pup as well…’T’Tkura spoke referring to the Tukata next to him staring at the Sith, as he marched off with Two-Fang turning and coming right by his side as he prepared to make his way to the Sith’s shuttle.

    Snokers ConservativeJedi321 Sinrebirth
     
  10. dragonsith13

    dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 3, 2005
    V-3PO
    The crumbling temple of Izax - Hades Shuttle

    Playback: 140227

    ‘Get out?!?! What is going on?’VPO was puzzled. ‘We just got here!’And I haven’t finish eliminating all of you… he processed unto himself.
    “You, stay with me, but be ready to run.”

    ‘Why are we running? VPO again inquiring as to what was the need of all this commotion. ‘If you had not noticed Milady Protocol Droids are not manufactured and designed to be natural sprinters!’ The temple itself was beginning to steadily rumble, VPO’s seismic sensors were beginning to ping frantically. And the surge of energy was noticeable to his sensors, as it did not take a force-user to pick up on the readings of energy output. VPO buckled and crashed into one of the corridor walls, frantically tearing and brushing off the vines and leaves which seem to wrap around him. ‘Goodness.’An embedded flame thrower popped out of his arm and began torching some of them to lose their grip and allow him to move away. The Dark Lady had moved on, elsewhere, as VPO caught the tail end of her moving into a chamber and a table within it. ‘Where are you going now!!!!!’ VPO’s frustration with his targets moving was grinding his gears.

    ‘Stand still!’

    Playback: 140231

    ‘GOOD LORD HUTT ALMIGHTY!’VPO shouted in a whining scream as rocks and pillar crumbled around him, floors turned up on themselves and the ground buckled as he staggered trying to keep pace with the Dawn Herald. ‘YOU BURNED THE WRONG CANDLE!’VPO spat out knowing nothing about what he was talking about, only commenting on him having watched The Mistress Bellorum burning a candle near a book moments earlier.

    Playback: 140237

    ‘Slow down you leggy Sith!’VPO screamed, again whining as he waddled faster than he had ever waddled. ‘SHYRACK SPAWN! SLOW DOWN!’ Again cursing the Dark Lady while banging off a pillar that had begun to fall across his path, barely missing being crushed and stumbling forward. The should of repulson engines roared in the distance and screamed louder as a rush of wind and sound came closer. Hade’s shuttle zoomed into position ahead of them.

    Playback: 140241

    Clang…. Clang… CLANG. ‘OUCH!’ VPO took a hit to the head as Bellorum had him by the arm dragging him forward stumbling as his dome hit off pillar after pillar after pillar.

    ‘Be careful you clumsy scarlet!’
    ‘AHHHHHHHHHHH.’He felt himself lurching forward, followed by a large bang and everything went black. Lying face down his arms and legs flailed in the rear cargo hold of Hade’s shuttle next to the ramp.


    ‘Help, I think my photoreceptors have failed me!’ In familiar over dramatic fashion VPO flailed when in reality, he was just face down on the floor nothing more in the shuttle now leaving the Temple area.

    E. L.Knight Lady Belligerent
     
  11. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades
    Hades Shuttle

    ‘Help, I think my photoreceptors have failed me!’ In familiar overdramatic fashion VPO flailed when in reality, he was just face down on the floor nothing more in the shuttle now leaving the Temple area.​

    Hades ignored the droid. He had very little patience for any of them, but most of all he hated protocol droids.​

    He did find the idea of making his "photoreceptor failure" permanent, however. but he refrained. Lady Bellorum had saved the blasted thing for a reason.​

    Soon her response to his inquiry was made known.​

    “Locate the Luxury Elite, Lord Hades.” Bellorum sighed before looking back to her datapad, “I have pressing business there.” ​

    He motioned to Finis, who had taken over as pilot. The bald man nodded and began the search.​

    Hades settled into a seat behind those in the cockpit just as Morriga took the seat opposite him. The other four troopers were securing the cargo and settling in for whatever would come next.​

    "Morrigan," Hades spoke softly. "Times are going to be shifting. I can feel a change in the darkside. You stay close to Finis and his men." She nodded. "Yes, Master."​

    "You are not a slave, nor my student. No one is your master here."​

    She looked down as several tears slid down her cheeks. "Thank you." She said it so softly, only Hades, with his enhanced senses from years of training, could hear her.​

    Slavery made hades angry. He tolerated it among the Sith simply because he was not powerful enough to enact any lasting change, but someday, he would change it.​

    No one deserved to have their freedom of choice removed from them. There were only a few exceptions, of course, regarding freedoms, but to be made a slave without the chance of freedom ever being given, no, only those who deserved their freedoms removed should be given no choice.​

    "Course set for the Luxury Elite, Lord Hades."​

    "Let us make haste. We are nearing a turning point, and this will be very important to us all."​

    TAG: Lady Belligerent, dragonsith13
     
  12. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Darth Anark
    Departure from Zakuul...


    Anark watched in awe as the tremendous beast, whose ancestors would have served those on the Dark Side with ferocious loyalty, boarded the shuttle with a Jedi. It was wrong. This entire day had felt so, so wrong.

    "Easy to mock the dead?" Anark smirked then shrugged nonchalantly as he moved back into the cockpit. The only thing he could think of that was more useless than a Jedi - was a dead Jedi. He placed a gloved hand on Tiq's head as he passed the little mechanical genius and patted him before taking his seat in the large pilots chair, the arms of which had been torn to shreds from the Sith's impatience and irritability when maneuvering through space in the past.

    The ship had taken a heavy blow but it was definitely still flyable, an assortment of flashing lights and screens confirmed this. Anark keyed in the co-ordinates for their destination and rummaged in a compartment below the main console and pulled out a pile of bacta strips that were still sealed in their packaging. They weren't the best but they would have to do. He instructed Tiq in impeccable Jawaese to hand one to each Jedi.

    "Clean yourselves up!" He hollered from the cockpit. A Tuk'ata gave a snarl as the shuttle boosted steadily upwards, greenish-brown water splashing across the windows as the propulsors hit the swamps below. Anark engaged the auto pilot and got up from his seat. He felt severely dehydrated and more than a little sleepy. He braced both hands against the frame of the cockpit doorway and gazed upon the Jedi sitting before him.

    "My friends are curious," he said with a grin as four Jawas began to crowd round them, huge yellow eyes gawking from oversized hoods. "Just keep a tight grip on your valuables."

    Anark watched with giddy amusement as the Jawas poked and prodded at the Jedi. His gaze settled on Draco and he maintained intense eye contact for several moments.

    He heard the beep beep beep counting down in the cockpit behind him and the ship began to shudder.

    "Here we go!"

    The ship entered hyperspace...


     
  13. ConservativeJedi321

    ConservativeJedi321 Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Registered:
    Mar 19, 2016
    IC: Radian T'lenity
    Zakuul

    Radian felt a cold chill down his spine as events unfolded. He opposed surrendering to the Sith with every fiber of his being, no matter what they do with us they would certainly be better off dead. Better dead than tools of the Sith, better dead than maimed and tortured for their sick pleasure. Better dead than twisted into dark side abominations.

    He looked down at his fist flexing near his side. Perhaps that was so, but his companions clearly did not see it that way. He could not make that decision for them. That was not his way. The Mirialan took a deep breath, dissipating his frustration and anger.

    The odds were stacked against them, but all they had left was hope. If his companions were determined to keep on trying he would not abandon them.
    Maybe, just maybe, there would be a chance for better future. They could not see that future if they were dead.
    That was the only thing that kept him going after the horrors he had experienced.
    Just that sliver of hope.


    He calmly offered their fallen friend what respect he could offer in constructing the burial mound, knowing he was one with the force now.
    As T'Tkura stated plainly ‘It is time to get off this rock.’Radian simply nodded in response. There was nothing left to say.

    Time was short, they were set to leave shortly. Even as he still harbored doubts about this course of action Radian moved forward hallowly.
    He paid little attention to the back and forth between his companions and the Sith.
    As they approached the Shuttle Radian simply took a seat and began scrapping mud off his boots. Just in time to hear the dark one shout back at them "Clean yourselves up!"
    Radian simply rolled his eye's. "Already on that." he muttered to himself quietly.

    Snokers, dragonsith13, Sinrebirth
     
  14. Quinlan Vos

    Quinlan Vos Jedi Padawan star 1

    Registered:
    Oct 24, 2017
    IC: Darth Francium (Combo with Lady Belligerent)
    Kiffu and the Luxury Elite

    Francium had been waiting for this moment. The newest member of the Sith had wanted his first mission immediately, but, like his predecessors, he had to wait. Finally, his waiting was over.

    He got the message as night set on Kiffu. It was simply worded, but it spoke volumes to the young Sith. He was being called to the Luxury Elite to meet with the Dawn Herald, Darth Bellorum. He had been told there would be credcards and housing available when he got there, so he didn’t need to conserve his own credits to get there. He set off immediately to find the next ship headed that way. It wasn’t easy, but he finally found a ship that was leaving within the next hour. He needed to get there as soon as possible, and decided he would sleep on the ship.

    ----------

    Francium awoke aboard the transport ship when he sensed that they were preparing to land. He wanted to be the first one off, so he hurried and gathered what little he had brought with him and headed towards the door.

    He stepped off the ship and was met with the busiest, most cheerful sight he had ever seen. The feeling of joy upset him. He hated joy. He strove for only anger. Francium wound his way to the front desk to collect his room card and the credcards that were left for them. Before heading to put his stuff away, he checked the balance on the cards. He discovered that there was more than enough to keep him satisfied for a long time. He took his luggage to his room and headed down to the casino’s to await the Dawn Herald’s arrival.

    ----------

    After being involved in one bar fight that had only been kinda his fault, being kicked out of one of the casino’s for “cheating” (he only used the force a little bit, but he didn’t want them to know he was a Sith and left them thinking it was card counting), and meeting some pretty young Twi'lek women, he finally received word that Bellorum had arrived and was waiting for him in the VIP hangar. He quickly strolled over that way to find the shuttle.

    Bellorum was checking up on her investments when she sensed the Kiffar entered the hangar. Late. She stuffed her datapad into her bag and looked to VPO. “Take my gear to my suite and wait for me there,” she instructed the droid as she stepped down the ramp.

    Francium recognized Bellorum immediately. She walked down the ramp with dark energy seemingly surrounding her, giving the room a slight chill. He walked towards her, knowing full well she knew he was coming. For the first time, he began to wonder what mission's she had in store for him.

    There had been time to tidy up during the trip, and no one could guess she’d just escaped a crumbling Temple. Not to mention the part about dragging out a complaining protocol droid. Her boot heels had just landed on the floor of the VIP hangar when Francium walked up. “You kept me waiting,” she began without a greeting. “You will be well compensated for your services, but you must be prompt. When the message says to meet me, you need to be waiting for me.”

    She stalked towards the corridor, and motioned for Francium to follow her. “I’ll be setting you up with workspace connected to mine,” she explained as they walked towards the lift banks. “There will be a few items I’d like you to tell me about, but some I’ll have to uh...obtain first.” Bellorum was thinking of what she’d give to have Francium tell her about the Emperor’s lightsaber. But, getting ahold of that was highly unlikely.

    “Do you have any experience in slicing?” She asked casually.

    "Slicing? Such as cutting someone to bits with my lightsaber, because I am very good at that? Or something else entirely?" Francium asked innocently.

    Bellorum laughed softly, “Okay, Francium,” she handed him a datapad, “this has descriptions of beings that work for The Night Herald and Emperor. Start by getting access to security cams and notify me immediately when any of them arrive.”

    She stepped into a lift and selected the floor where her suite was reserved, “I want to know what they do and where they are at all times. You’ll find equipment in your office to get started and just buy anything else you need.”

    Francium strolled away to purchase the extra equipment, glad to finally be of use to the Empire and hoping he wouldn't mess up his first assignment for the Dawn Herald.

    ----------

    TAG: Lady Belligerent dragonsith13
     
  15. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    Combo (Part 1) with the always wonderful HanSolo29! [face_mischief]

    IC: Aryan Graul & Syren
    Private Suite, The Luxury Elite

    Syren pressed through the crowds on the main casino floor, shouldering past anything in her way and completely ignoring the disgruntled shouts of those she blindly pushed aside. To them she would appear slightly unhinged; heart beating rapidly, breathing quick and short, cheeks flushed. A light sheen of sweat coated the back of her neck, strands of crimson hair clinging uncomfortably to her skin while a trail of blood crept down her chin.

    Just as she didn’t give a damn who she collided with as she progressed, the assassin paid none of it any mind.

    She had somewhere to be… someone to find.

    Closing in on where she knew her quarters were located, she was acutely aware that she shouldn’t be as out of control as she was. On top of her intoxicated and agitated state, she was even more confused and tightly wound than before. If all had gone according to plan, if she had just done what she had set out to do in the first place, she should be feeling relieved, relaxed, focused. Not this jumbled… mess!

    She growled and picked up her pace.

    It was all his fault.

    Not her poor excuse for a conquest, one she wouldn’t waste another second of thought on.

    No, her ruined evening was all because of one Aryan Graul.

    Syren had tried to stymie the increasingly frustrating and inexplicable pull the chancellor had over her by putting distance between them. But even then, for all her attempts at distraction, changing her surroundings and attentions, he still managed to work his metaphorical fingers deeper beneath her skin. It could not continue, she wouldn’t allow it… though she had no fragging idea how to stop it. Whatever 'it' was.

    Now charging down a dimly lit hall of the hotel, eyeing her door as it grew nearer, she was already beginning to reach out with her senses. Her – their – suite had been her automatic guess as to where Graul would be and sure enough, as she arrived at the main door, she could feel him somewhere within its walls.

    A smirk played across her lips as she hastily wiped any remnants of her previous encounter from her face and halfheartedly straightened herself. She punched in the entry code and the door slid open with a hiss to admit her. The room beyond was a dimly lit central area with the pair of bedrooms branching off on either side. It was circular and modestly furnished - a few plush couches and chairs surrounding a pair of tables at its middle - the décor just fashionable enough to hold the ego of a supposed Governor-in-hiding. Syren only had eyes for the small bar in the far corner, of course, and as she marched over the threshold, her hand shot out and called a bottle of something clear straight into her grasp.

    She eagerly took a healthy swig of the contents, the sting of the drink washing away the lingering metallic taste of that creep’s blood from her tongue – its warmth steadying her mind enough to know that what she was thinking was dangerous.

    Danger had been what she sought this entire night, however. This was no different.

    The turbulent storm that marked Syren’s presence in the Force held an air of volatility that took Aryan’s breath away. It had swept over him with a vengeance, effectively shaking him from his inner musings and halting any progress he had made in trying to sort out his raging emotions. Training with the Night Herald had not helped, and now, he thought he might lose himself to the raw intensity of it all as he felt his mind slipping further back into the recesses of the past…to something Syren had unknowingly reawakened inside of him. It was a savage thing that he had believed long gone – if he wasn’t careful, it had the potential to rip him apart all over again.

    Before fear could take hold, he inhaled deeply and forced himself to find focus. In the relative quiet that followed, he closed his eyes and took a moment to simply relish in the primal nature of the onslaught as the presence approached his position. He noted that what he felt outside the door was teetering on the brink of madness. That is when he decided that it could not be Syren he was sensing. Hadn’t she taken great care to guard herself from him in the Force? She would not allow herself to lapse like this. For someone with her skillset, this was an embarrassment.

    His expression soon turned grim; that meant he had an intruder inside the suite. After the hustler had found her way onto the freighter, he couldn't take any chances.

    On instinct, he reached across the bed and slowly withdrew a small hold-out blaster from his travel bag. He knew the action would have drawn criticism from his master and the other Sith for discarding his lightsaber, but he didn’t really consider himself a part of the collective. That was something he was struggling with. It was anyone’s guess if he would ever fit in. He was a unique case, and as such, he would handle things his own way.

    Of course, it also occurred to him that he was possibly making a novice mistake by misinterpreting what the Force was telling him. This was all new to him, and he did not fully understand how to control it. What if he was wrong? How could he determine different people in the Force? What if it really was Syren?

    Aryan shook his head sharply to clear his mind of any doubts and reclined back against the plush pillows. With a wary sigh, he furrowed his brow in thought as he rested the blaster at his hip and took aim at the door.

    Then he waited.

    Syren’s gaze narrowed towards his door, carelessly tossing the bottle upon a nearby ottoman as she stepped up to the access panel. She knew the code, and without hesitation…. she used it. Once the way was clear she shamelessly strode into Graul’s personal space. Finding him straight away, her mouth opened to say something entirely different than what actually came out.

    “Let’s go. You’re buying me a drink,” she stated with an impatient wave of her hand. Her tone was commanding, though not as emotionless as she would have liked.

    Aryan’s eyes grew wide as she burst into the room and announced her demands, confirming his worst fears. It was her all along – he should have listened to his instincts.

    With a curse, he sat upright and swung his legs hastily over the edge of the bed, but before he could bring himself to his full height, he froze as he met the intensity in her gray gaze. There was something there…something he simply couldn’t ignore. His heart was now pounding rapidly within his chest as his eyes ultimately settled on her lithe frame to scrutinize her ruffled appearance. She obviously had a good night. Did that make him jealous?

    He caught himself before his thoughts went to a dangerous place. Why should he care?

    Who did she think she was? What gave her the right to violate him at every turn? Didn’t she know she was like a cancer that was slowly spreading throughout his body? He had isolated himself from her for a reason!

    Aryan realized that his index finger was still poised on the trigger of his blaster, slightly applying pressure. He could end this once and for all…

    And yet, he knew he couldn’t do it. What was it about her that was so relentless? So infuriating? He wanted to keep her alive just to figure out that mystery. Besides, it wasn’t like he had a chance against her with a blaster anyway. He clenched his jaw and discreetly hid the weapon beneath the sheets, hoping she had not seen it in the first place. In this case, her inebriated state may work out in his favor.

    “What the hell are you doing?” he finally asked with a slight edge to his voice. “You’ve made it pretty damn obvious that our…arrangement was just for show. You shouldn’t be in here. So, why the change of heart?”

    His eyes roamed freely over her body once more before his countenance twisted into a scowl. He could only guess what she had been up to on her own. “Rough night? Did your escort dump you, so now you’re looking for the rebound?” He shook his head with a scoff. “I want to be clear...I have no intentions of contributing to your drunken stupor. There’s plenty of drinks in the mini-bar, if that’s what you want.”

    “That’s not what I want!” Syren snapped the moment he finished speaking, frustration more than evident in the tone of her raised voice.

    With an exasperated huff, a hand came up to push her hair back off her face and she glowered in his direction. Graul’s remarks of her appearance and all-too-true assumptions of her evening thus far meant nothing at this point and she wouldn’t waste her time bantering back and forth with him. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, whether he knew it or not it was far too late for that simple game. The last threads of her self-control continued to burn away, the flames of various tempestuous emotions, namely anger – not at him anymore, but at herself – threatening to consume what little restraint she had left.

    Leave, a whisper in the back of her mind commanded.

    Yet, she found herself rooted to the spot.

    Stay, it said again.

    Standing mere feet from the bed where Graul sat, her eyes bore into his and she took a deep, audible breath. An abrupt quiet washed over her inner turmoil, one she wasn’t expecting but clutched onto like a lifeline nonetheless. With a concentration that somehow broke over the alcohol coursing through her system, she suddenly pushed her feet into motion, albeit with a bit more grace than her prior entrance.

    Each step was carefully placed as she slinked across the space that separated them, the overconfidence of inebriation mingling pleasantly with more passionate feelings she refused to put names to.

    The assassin halted once she was directly before the politician, close enough that she towered over his seated form, a leg resting just between his knees. She leaned in those last few inches and boldly placed a finger beneath his chin, directing his gaze upwards though she doubted he needed the assistance.

    “What do you want,” Syren asked softly, pausing long enough to make it seem as though that was all she had to say. Her gaze watched his face intently, straying over his lips before she forced herself to continue.

    “To stay here, locked away in your room, alone? Or to come with me?”

    Neither.

    The thought had materialized before Aryan could fully comprehend what was happening. It was his subconscious, he knew, and it was telling him that he wanted something much more than a simple night out with her in some up-scale bar. At this juncture, that was far too boring for his tastes. No, he wanted to explore the third option. He desperately needed an outlet to fully satisfy the lecherous desires that had surfaced in the wake of her lewd advances. Surely, she knew what she was getting herself into when she had gone down this path…

    Even now, as she loomed over him in a predatory manner, he could feel himself slipping, the touch of her fingers on his flesh threatening to send him spiraling over the edge. He pressed his lips into a thin line and steeled his jaw in an attempt to maintain his composure, but it was only a temporary solution. As he shifted uncomfortably under her crucial gaze, his leg unwillingly brushed up against hers, sending things into motion all over again.

    Dammit, she was too close!

    If Syren was really paying attention, she might have seen him gasp.

    She fought to maintain focus, but even then she could see the struggle in his eyes and sense his confusion in the Force, noting each physical shift and sign of discomfort she was causing. He was unsure of himself, that much Syren could tell and it fueled her, reassuring that she was pressing in on all the right places.

    However, the uncertainty she could stir in him in turn aroused something within her, a sensation she would not simply ignore nor did she want to. Not now, despite a significant part of her that was keenly aware certain lines were best left uncrossed.

    Her initial invitation had been hollow at best and it seemed in the moment that neither of them wanted to go anywhere, no matter the reason why. They were without the demands of their mission, the chains of the Sith. So, why was he still acting as if he needed to protect himself from her? It made this unexpected encounter all the more confusing, especially when any lesser man would have given into his impulses by this point.

    Emboldened by a renewed surge of determination, her finger left his chin and began to slowly trail upwards, tracing the contour of his jaw.

    That was the last straw. He reminded himself that he had to endure. He could not allow himself to fall victim to his vulnerabilities...to certain sensuous behaviors. It was a fatal mistake that could lead to his undoing.

    “It’s not important what I want,” Aryan countered harshly. His tone was more gravelly than usual…perhaps even more emotionally charged than he would have liked. “I know what I saw when you came storming in here.” His gaze hardened as he sat up a little straighter with a renewed sense of confidence. Despite how he felt, he wanted her to see that he was in complete control.

    “You’re only trying to justify this for yourself,” he added with an imperious smirk. “Well, I don’t want any part of it.”

    Pushing her hand aside, he began to rise to his feet.

    “I think you do,” Syren growled in response to his dismissal, irritation radiating through her voice as he removed her hand from his face.

    She barely suppressed a sneer as he began to shift to a standing position. It was easy to assume that he was attempting the same song and dance they had done several times over now; exerting physical dominance if he could not maintain control over her otherwise.

    Anger swam in on her mind like a wave, cresting over her short-lived calm.

    Once he rose to his feet she reached out and grasped his upper arms with her hands, pulling herself into his chest – removing any space that remained between them and again demanding his full attention. This close, she could smell the faint scent of sweat upon his skin, a prior exertion that was of no concern to her. Her head tilted back and she eagerly searched his grey-green eyes, a sense of urgency taking over.

    “I don’t have to justify anything,” Syren asserted, all of a sudden feeling as though she needed to catch her breath. The rush of emotions was disorienting, forcibly loosening the thin hold she still had on her self-restraint. As it slipped, she reflexively squeezed his arms tighter to keep her hands from moving elsewhere. You’re the one still hiding, still pretending to be something other than who you really are.” She paused and chewed her lip in thought, unsure of where she was heading with her words.

    Aryan stood frozen in place and stared back at her, his scrutinizing gaze almost challenging her to continue. What could she possibly know about him? From his vantage point, she was the one who was desperate and spouting nonsense in an attempt to accept these strange turn of events. Sure, he was fighting his own demons to some extent, but seeing her like this, he couldn’t help but feel like he had a distinct advantage. Even now, she was literally clinging to him for support. That was all the encouragement he could ask for.

    His mood began to shift as he once again adopted the guarded countenance of a politician. Her struggle was fueling his confidence, allowing him to relax and rethink his plan. In some ways, he realized that he was even beginning to enjoy this game.

    Would it really end up all so bad if he could maintain this level of certainty and control? After all, he deserved some fun.

    “And does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked as he canted his head with a luring smile.

    His hands, which hung awkwardly at his sides due to her restrictive hold, slowly came up with their limited range of motion and slid around her petite frame at the waist. With careful precision, he began to knead the small of her back, his fingers even daring to reach beneath the hem of her tank to touch her flesh. It was a sensitive pressure point, but in this case, it was difficult to discern whether he intended the gesture to provide reassurance, or if he simply wanted to make her more anxious than she already was.

    Syren reacted with a sharp intake of breath, pulling herself against him further as he made his thoroughly unexpected move. She hadn’t thought he could be brazen enough for an advance as forward as this and though she knew how much she had encouraged the behavior, he still succeeded in surprising her. He had called her bluff and just like that, she realized she had lost all control over the situation.

    He had literally stepped in and taken it from her.

    “Why is that such a bad thing?” His voice was almost a whisper as he leaned forward, his eyes now focused on her lips. “I thought that maybe you would prefer a little mystery. It suits you…”

    “Because it is a lie,” she managed to say weakly, no longer caring about whatever the hell point she had been trying to make. That line of thought disintegrated as his touch continued to rattle her further than she would care to admit. He was playing her game now and in a way she could almost admire. Almost.

    It was here that things became blurred, what she wanted and what she needed overrunning what she knew would only cause her trouble later on. You shouldn’t be in here, he had told her and he was right. She should be stronger than this, she should be smarter, she should be kriffing sober… but right now, she was exhausted from holding up her walls.

    With a grimace, she somehow managed to abruptly release her grip on the man before her. Her arms fell loosely to her sides though she did not give any ground.

    “If you really want me to leave… then tell me to leave.”

    The sudden movement as she released his arms startled Aryan for a moment, prompting him to take a precautionary step back, but he quickly recovered. As he did so, he searched her face as he tried to understand what was going on behind those stark, gray eyes. Was that fear? Trepidation?

    Her comment certainly seemed to point in that direction…but what if it was all a deflection? While it was true that he had initially expressed disdain over her sudden appearance, he had come to terms with it. Did he truly wish for her to leave now?

    No, not really.

    She was making excuses – he had seen it all before.

    “I think it’s too late for that,” he admonished with a playful smirk and a scoff. “You and I both know that.” Lifting a hand up from where it was resting near her waist, he stroked the side of her face before trailing upward to gently brush a lock of crimson away from her eyes.

    “Just remember that you brought this on yourself, Syren,” he continued as he leaned dangerously close once more. His tone was condescending, almost as if he was scolding an unruly teenager for engaging in acts unbecoming of them. But it also contained a warning – this was her final chance to back away from all of this. “I won’t be held responsible for what happens next. But just so we’re clear…I’ve been doing some thinking of my own about what you've asked me earlier, and I think I've finally made a decision..."

    Aryan brought his other hand up to join the first and cupped her face within his grip. Again, he focused his sights on her lips as he dared to cross that imaginary line that separated them.

    This is what I want…”

    Without waiting for her to acquiesce, he closed the gap completely and pressed his lips against hers.

    To be continued...


    TAGS: HanSolo29 Darth_wanderguard
     
  16. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    And here is Part II of the combo with the amazing QueenSabe7! :D

    IC: Syren and Aryan Graul
    Private Suite, the Luxury Elite

    Syren knew what he was going to do before he acted, and though a thrill of fear ran up her spine as he held her face in his hands, noting the confidence and certainty in his eyes, she did not shrink away. She didn’t move at all just yet, not trusting herself in the least.

    When his kiss finally reached her, she warmed almost instantly, slowly bringing her hands up to slide over top of his. However, she still struggled to resist what every inch of her really wanted to do in response; to reciprocate and not gently, to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her to allow for a more passionate embrace, eventually falling back onto the bed behind him. He was giving in to his desires and she would like nothing more than to do the same, but… something wasn’t right. There was a feeling of wrongness, a growing sense of alarm that nagged at the back of her mind with increasing frequency. At first, she was sure it was only her instincts telling her that what they were doing – or about to do - was wholly inappropriate and unethical.

    It was not.

    With a startling moment of clarity, the Force showed her it was something else.

    She broke contact with Graul in a huff, shoving away from him. Already knowing exactly where to look, her head whipped around towards the bedroom door and to the sitting room beyond. The hiss of the main entry as it slid open could be heard, a metallic grinding noise accompanying it as if it were being forced to do so. She raised a brow in realization; someone was breaking into their suite…. No, multiple beings. Three.

    The voracity in which she rebuffed him made Aryan’s eyes go wide with confusion before they slowly narrowed into something fierce as realization dawned. She had rejected him, and along with it came the accompanying emotions of anger, embarrassment, and regret. Sure, he had been ditched before, but this was different somehow; this was more than a simple rejection. Syren had led him on and ultimately cornered him into this awkward position – for what purpose, he couldn’t be certain. All he knew was that the tables had turned so that he was now on the receiving end of a masterful ploy, something he himself had perfected and employed numerous times throughout his political career to reach a means to an end. That betrayal stung more than anything else.

    He was smarter than this; he should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent it…

    Still breathing heavily from the exertion, he shifted uncomfortably and glared at her. She appeared distracted, which was woefully out of character for her, but he didn’t seem to care; he was too blinded by her treachery to properly assess the situation with a rational mind. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to retaliate, to reach out and throw his hands around her neck for a very different reason other than lovemaking. His hands began to noticeably tremble at his sides as he envisioned himself applying pressure to her trachea in an effort to squeeze the life from her…

    But before he could will his muscles to perform the heinous act, he froze and canted his head to the side as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It was a subtle warning, but it was there, nevertheless. The Force. The godsdamned Force. It was not yet a natural reaction for him to turn to it for guidance, and in many cases, he had even tuned it out in favor of doing things the old-fashioned way. In fact, he was beginning to view it more as a curse, a succinct reminder that he was a slave to these…Sith, but in this instance, it could have saved him some grief. He realized now why Syren had pulled away. It wasn’t about him at all.

    Aryan’s head snapped to the door just as the three assailants forced their way through the entryway. One corner of his mouth reflexively curled up into a wry smirk; he suddenly felt foolish.

    A pair of human men, burly-looking thug types with various weapons on display – namely the modified blasters they held out before them – came rushing into the chancellor’s chambers a second later, the third presence casually striding in last. This one was also human and male, a face that was unfortunately familiar to Syren. It occurred to her then how truly off she had been, to not have seen this coming sooner.

    “Well, well… what do we have here,” the man taunted with a smile, pointing nonchalantly between the two Sith with his own blaster that he held in his grasp. He looked Aryan over once, offering him a small bow that was obviously intended to mock him in some way. “Please, pardon the interruption,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he then turned his gaze upon her. Returning the stare, it was hard to miss the renewed drug-fueled rage that nearly blacked out his eyes as it had before. “You might want to be careful with this one though. She bites.”

    Inclining his head, Aryan stared back at the man with quiet disdain. It was hard to imagine that this savage had been Syren’s catch from earlier in the evening. What had she been thinking? Or, maybe that was it – she hadn’t been thinking at all. As long as it had two legs and an important part of the male anatomy, she didn’t care who or what she claimed as her prize. That whole mentality reeked of desperation to him, and he couldn’t help but frown as he considered the implications…not only for her, but for him as well.

    Clenching his jaw, Aryan visibly tensed as he cast a wary glance in her direction. This was all her fault. He didn’t want to admit it, but his confidence was waning. He felt every bit like the nameless politician he was in this current timeline, completely out of his depth and vulnerable without the added protection of his security detail.

    He uttered a curse.

    The assassin had known who the intruder was the moment she had sensed him and as he came to a halt mere feet away, she lazily reexamined his appearance; same dapper attire, one shoulder now splashed with crimson, the blood still caked to his neck and cheek, ear swathed in a hastily made bandage. She shook her head and sighed. It was easy to piece together. Her poor choice in a play thing had apparently tailed her from the nightclub to exact his revenge, bringing protection along with. At this she chuckled a bit hysterically, gesturing to his bodyguards behind him. “Scared to be alone with me now?” she goaded with a smirk, giving Graul a sidelong glance to gauge his reaction to this intrusion. In her chest, she felt the sting of regret.

    The nameless creep bared his teeth and seethed at her words, leveling his weapon at her head. “Out into the other room. Both of you. NOW,” he ordered. Without having to be told, his guards rushed towards them and proceeded to prod the pair forward.

    Aryan grimaced as the first handler – a large hulk of a man with a hooked nose and angular features nestled under a mop of matted black hair – rammed the butt of his modified weapon into his ribs with enough force to make him stumble forward. He bent slightly at the waist to compensate for the uncomfortable sensation of a blaster rifle being shoved into his back, but as he did so, his gaze met Syren’s. His expression immediately hardened as he narrowed his eyes in silent warning. It probably wasn’t a good idea to instigate the man when he was clearly high on spice or some other illegal stimulant. He was a loose cannon, and she was only making this harder by pushing him closer and closer to the breaking point.

    They needed a plan.

    The remaining guard worked in tandem with his counterpart, shoving Syren forward a step with a close-fisted hand. She recovered immediately and whirled on him, a bald, tattooed muscle in the shape of a human, paying no mind to Graul’s pleading look. “Touch me again. I dare you,” she spat, reflexively reaching for her vibroblade that was still strapped to her thigh – her sole means of protection. But just as her fingertips grazed the hilt, she froze.

    “No, no, sweetheart,” the leader chided condescendingly into her ear from close – too close – by. He had caught her movement and while she had been distracted, pressed the business end of his blaster to the side of her skull. “You don’t get to play this time.” His free hand swiped her blade from the holster before she could get a firm grip, sweeping it up to the front of her throat. As he pressed the blade into her exposed skin, he maneuvered his body so that his chest was up against her back, the hand that held his blaster dropping low to rest upon her stomach and pin her left arm.

    “It’s my turn,” he breathed with an unsteady voice, a sweaty sheen to his skin.

    “I can hardly contain my excitement,” Syren snapped in response.

    She winced as her own weapon dug harder into her flesh and his anger spiked. She was ushered back away from the bed a few steps as the unoccupied thug retreated to take up post near the bedroom door. Her gaze focused on Graul, considering their options. She wasn’t searching for a means of escape; she was plotting just how these kriffing bastards should be dealt with, how the two of them could end this with a brutal but clear finality. She was reminded then that the politician was only an apprentice and not just that, but his connection to the Force was fresh and new. Maybe even foreign to him still, which in turn made her suddenly nervous. She couldn’t picture him using brute force or wielding a lightsaber.

    Would she not only have to protect herself, but him as well?

    Again, Aryan’s mind wandered back to the idea of the nameless politician and the helplessness that surrounded that persona. He inwardly smiled; that could actually work out to his advantage. At the very least, it could buy them some time. Or rather, it could buy her some time to get the hell out of there.

    As the man prepared to nudge him again, Aryan pivoted to face him and raised his hands defensively. “Wait!” he exclaimed with a pleading look, his tone on the verge of panic. “You—you don’t want to do this – do you know who I am?!”

    The thug raised a curious brow, clearly amused by the sudden outburst. He was enjoying this way too much. “Nope,” he muttered tersely as he shifted the rifle to his other arm. “And even if I did, that ain’t gonna change a kriffin’ thing. You’re still karked. Now get moving before I decide to re-arrange your face and add to your misery.”

    He was not deterred by the threat. “Listen to me, you’re making a mistake. I have more sway here than you realize…” He licked his lips and turned to regard the group’s leader. “Surely, your boss wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to cash in on this misunderstanding. I’m more than willing to compensate him for any trouble my…my bodyguard may have caused him this evening. She’s assigned to my personal protection, but sometimes I feel as if I need to keep her attached to my hip on a leash, if you get my understanding…” He flashed an ardent smile.

    Syren could not suppress a chuckle as Graul rambled, her humor dying off abruptly as the dagger was dragged marginally across her neck, the arm at her waist tightening its hold. She felt the warm threads of blood that the blade released and her hands curled into fists at her sides. She still did not retaliate, though she would not wait much longer.

    It wasn’t surprising that the Governor would assume he could talk his way out of this mess - he did love to hear the sound of his own voice - so she gave him the time to play out his attempt at distraction. It wouldn’t work, she knew, but he had to know as well. He needed to see that words are rarely enough and action is often required; he would need to get his hands dirty whether he was prepared to or not.

    His strategy had worked in piquing their interest. Syren’s assailant swayed as he fought against the intoxicants coursing through his veins, but finally, his eyes focused long enough to give Aryan a dubious gaze. “And you are…?”

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous,” he apologized as he padded forward on bare feet to put some distance between himself and Hook Nose. He must look ridiculous. “I’m Governor Klyn Drectal of Moraband.” He extended his hand. “Most people are not familiar with our quiet corner of the galaxy, but I hope to change that with time. While we're small in comparison to other worlds, I hardly consider that a detriment. If anything, it has allowed us to build upon our merits and garner the kind of influence that has made us the envy of many influential systems within the Republic. Our reach has even expanded as far as the Core. I’m originally from Corellia, so I like to keep one foot firmly placed on the galactic stage at all times.” His smile grew, his expression now reflecting the confidence and pride he was expending into his speech. “It also helps to have friends back home who are willing to pull for you.

    “With that said, I’m willing to cut a deal to make this all go away. It will not only benefit you and your men, but I could use a break myself. What do you say?”

    The large man merely grinned. “Trell, show the governor some of my hospitality and what I think of his ‘deal’.”

    Aryan tensed; he didn’t like the sound of that.

    From behind him, he could hear Hook Nose unleash a round of raucous laughter before the broad side of the rifle cracked against the back of Aryan’s skull with surprising force. It wasn't enough to knock him unconscious, but the damage was done. A grunt issued from his throat and he pitched forward against the bed, the plush pillows breaking his fall and saving him from further injury. He could see stars dancing at the fringes of his vision as he reached up to gingerly touch the source of the throbbing pain that was beating in tandem with his heart and threatening to make him sick. When he pulled his hand away, he noted that his hair was already sticky with blood.

    That was enough for Syren.

    Witnessing the guard’s assault on Graul was like being doused with icy water - her mind cleared instantly, sweeping aside any and all inconsequential thoughts that didn’t pertain to the immediate deaths of these three men.

    Her rage broke as she watched him collapse onto the bed and sensed his pain, flooding every inch of her with a torrent of darkness that fed on the Force around her. Hyper aware of every breath the man behind her took, the stubble upon his face scraping against her cheek, his hand moving against her in ways she most certainly did not approve of… she would take immense pleasure in the violent end she was about to give him.

    With Hook Nose’s laughter continuing to assault his ears, Aryan winced and rolled over onto his side in an attempt to stymie the pain. As he did so, something dug uncomfortably into his torso. The cold metal of the object made him involuntarily shiver as it worked its way past the edge of his shirt and rubbed against his exposed flesh. With a frown, he slid his hand beneath the sheets to investigate. What he found made him smile despite the pain that continued to pound relentlessly within his temples. It was the blaster he had discarded when Syren had initially barged in on him.

    This was the break he had been waiting for. Hopefully Syren was already on the move.

    Clamping down on his pain, he focused on it to fuel his strength, and in one fluid motion, he brought the blaster around and fired blindly over his shoulder at Hook Nose.

    Syren’s eyes had never left Graul, so as he revealed the hidden blaster from somewhere upon the bed he was laid out upon, she couldn’t help the devilish grin that spread across her lips.

    Here we go.

    Right before the firearm discharged, she didn’t hesitate, thrusting her free arm out at the first guard. Using the Force to send a burst of energy his way, she pushed him into a more direct path for the chancellor’s shot that immediately followed. The bolt hit the man square in the shoulder before he had time to react, a shout of anguish filling the room as the rifle dropped from his slackened grasp.

    “What did you just DO!” the man at her back shouted, shock evident in his voice but it didn’t matter. Her arms were already swinging backwards just as he sought to slit her throat, her elbows connecting with his ribs on either side. He grunted and gasped for air, the blade slipping away from her windpipe and his grip loosening across her waist, providing all the opportunity she needed.

    The assassin spun her lithe form out of his arms, grabbing the wrist that held her weapon as she turned to face him. With a single twist that snapped several bones, she wrenched her blade free as he went into a blind rage, raising his blaster up to shoot at point blank rage.

    His drugs may delay the agony he was surely about to feel from his newly inflicted wounds, but they slowed him down considerably.

    With ease she snatched the blaster away before a shot went off, much as a parent would remove a toy from a misbehaving child, slamming the handle into his temple with a backhanded strike. As he crashed awkwardly into the nearby wall, she turned it upon the guard by the door who had either chosen not to join in at all or was just as sluggish as his master. She fired twice, one of the shots hitting their mark with fatal precision, the man collapsing to the floor in a heap.

    She inhaled deeply then, giving the fresh corpse a once over, her body shuddering as she exhaled. Her heart was racing, pumping the blood through her veins like charged currents. Running her fingers over the beads of crimson at her throat, she felt positively electric; alive. Speaking of… the redhead cast a glance over her shoulder to peer at Graul, whatever it was he had been doing in the short span of time it had taken her to disarm not one, but two men.

    “No one can leave this room,” Syren stated plainly, thrusting her chin out at the wounded guard that still lived, now clamoring for his weapon on the floor.

    They had seen her use the Force, there was no question now that they finish the job. Together. Perhaps he would find the act as pleasing as she did.

    Aryan heard the sound of Syren’s voice over the incessant ringing emanating from his ears, but he could not focus long enough to fully comprehend the words. Leave the room? Not leave the room? He winced in response to his waning cognizance. The latter made more sense, right? Through the haze that clouded his mind, he thought he had seen her use the Force against Hook Nose. Surely, that’s what she was referring to?

    Again, a grimace crossed his features. They must have cracked him over the head harder than he initially thought, a growing concern that had him questioning his own effectiveness when it came to continuing this confrontation. He had never viewed himself as a fighter, but now the prospect was almost comical. Not only was his judgment impaired by the blow he had sustained, but his movements were sluggish and fairly erratic. It was embarrassing to note that in the same span of time it had taken Syren to successfully disarm her foes, Aryan had only managed to sit up and balance himself on the edge of the bed in a precarious position. Unfortunately, that was all he could tolerate if he wanted to refrain from heaving the contents of his stomach all over the elegant carpet.

    Damn it all to hell, he thought as he glanced down at the blaster in his wavering hand. Had he even hit his target?

    Slowly, his eyes scanned the room in hopes of finding the answer to that question. He quickly zeroed in on the path Hook Nose had likely taken in his flight and was soon rewarded when he found the man huddled on the floor, his right hand reaching across his chest and clutching at his opposite shoulder in obvious discomfort. Red crimson seeped through his fingers, a telltale sign of a fresh blaster wound. Despite the throbbing pain that threatened to overtake him, Aryan had to smile.

    Well, at least something had gone right…

    The sight of the injured man had restored his confidence. Braving the dizziness that washed over him in a relentless tide, Aryan rose shakily to his feet and staggered forward. “You heard the lady,” he drawled and wagged the business end of the blaster within the man’s line of sight. He had intended to use the gesture to intimidate the thug, but the sound of his own voice resonating in his ears ruined the desired effect. A pronounced slur had developed, which made it pretty apparent that he was suffering from a concussion. He knew he would have to deal with that at some point, but for now, he persisted. “Up against the wall.”

    Hook Nose complied for the moment, but his eyes continued to stray to the discarded rifle resting on the floor between them.

    She returned her dark gaze to her mark, licking her lips and tightening her grip over her vibroblade that was now safely back in her possession. She intently watched the spice addicted fool as he somehow managed to find his feet, lunging for her in some last ditch effort to save face.

    Pathetic.

    Syren lifted a hand and again utilized the Force, this time to halt him mid-step. She balled her hand into fist and began to squeeze, focusing on his lungs and esophagus. His eyes bulged as he struggled to breath, an invisible vice closing in on his airway. His uninjured hand clawed at his neck and she smirked, tipping her head back to revel in his terror – both obvious and sensed.

    Aryan, momentarily distracted by Syren’s show with the group’s leader, failed to notice Hook Nose making his move. If not for the Force providing a very glaring premonition for what was about to happen, he would have endured another incapacitating blow. As it was, he was able to pivot and avoid the brunt of the thug’s attack as the man lunged forward…but just barely. His muscles still failed to function properly and the extra effort he had to exert to overcome his lethargy cost him precious time. Hook Nose was quick to take advantage of this temporary handicap.

    Reaching out with his good hand, the thug managed to grab hold of Aryan’s ankle as he passed, and with a solid tug, sent him tumbling to the carpet. He landed flat on his back, the base of his skull bouncing off the floor and rattling his already ravaged head so that he saw stars for the second time that day. With his teeth clenched together in obvious agony, Aryan closed his eyes tight and simply laid there for a long moment to allow the initial shockwave of unbearable pain to pass.

    But again, Hook Nose did not afford him that reprieve; he was coming in for the kill. Aryan had to act now if he wanted to live.

    That very basic instinct – the need to survive – sparked something inside of him, and he could now physically feel the Force coursing through him, rejuvenating his spirit and giving him strength so that he was no longer hindered by his suffering. And yet, he was still very aware of his pain…in fact, it was like he was feeding off of it to build up his stamina. It was both a blessing and a curse.

    Overall, it was an odd turn of events. Only a short time ago, he had wanted to shy away from the Force’s potent touch after listening to the Night Herald’s account, but now he found that he couldn’t resist. In that sense, it was like an addictive drug, forever leading him toward the brink of destruction with its tantalizing charm. But what other choice did he have? It was a part of him now, whether he liked it or not. While he remained hesitant about accepting this fate, he had to admit, it did feel good…

    Forcing his eyes open against the harshness of the overhead lighting, the Chancellor sneered at his opponent with renewed determination. He would get through this.

    There was a glint of metal as the thug reclaimed his rifle and raised it high above his head, intending to bring it down on Aryan’s prone form. This action was met only with a smirk. It was clear the man was opting for the dramatic approach instead of going for the easy shot. How foolish. Now it was Aryan’s turn to take advantage of this costly mistake. Perhaps he didn’t have to rely on the Force, after all.

    As the thug started to swing downward with his weapon, Aryan instinctively raised the blaster pistol and squeezed off a single shot. The bolt impacted with the man’s chest, leaving a large, gaping hole in its wake. It took a moment for the thug’s drug-addled mind to register what had happened, but once it sunk in, his knees instantly buckled and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

    Aryan craned his neck and stared at the man’s lifeless features for a long moment before he exhaled heavily and averted his gaze to Syren. He knew he should probably offer some assistance, but she seemed to have everything under control. Besides, what could he possibly do in this state? He would only get in the way…

    With that thought, he closed his eyes again.

    Syren had been peripherally aware of Aryan’s struggles, though she refused to interfere. For one, she just didn’t want to help him, forcing him to handle his share. And another, well… she was having too much fun. Watching the life slowly drain from the cretin she held within her invisible grasp was all the rejuvenation she needed. While he was dying, she only felt stronger, more focused.

    The loud crack of a blaster broke her spell, somewhat reluctantly pulling her gaze away from her prey and back to the politician. She quickly took in his current state as his eyes met hers; rattled, overwhelmed maybe, but in one piece. She was… relieved. Among other things.

    Much as the mere thought of him had disrupted her desires the first time she encountered the man she was about to kill, it happened again and she was suddenly over this whole scene of violence. With an abrupt clenching of her hand, there was an audible ‘crunch’ as she snapped the spice addict’s neck. There was no further sound aside from his lifeless body hitting the floor, joining his friends in death.

    Syren didn’t spare a single look back, wanting only one thing in that moment.

    Striding over to where Graul lay, his eyes now closed, she took a step over his torso and lowered herself to her knees. Straddling him at the waist, she leaned down the rest of the way and proceeded to kiss him with fervor.

    With a sensuous groan, Aryan came alive beneath her touch, the rush of adrenaline instantly igniting every nerve-ending in his body and relieving him of the pain from his recent injury. He felt whole again; invincible. The struggle of the past few minutes was forgotten, and all he could think about was this impassioned woman leaning over him with a fiery intensity. Her desire burned brightly through the Force, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to rise up to the challenge and satisfy her needs.

    Reaching up, Aryan rested his hands on her shoulders and gave a firm squeeze as he reciprocated her kiss hungrily. His passion for her was strong, a tumultuous force that was impossible to stop. What had begun as a selfish act of lustful indulgence was slowly transforming into something much more stimulating. He responded to this emotion by allowing his hands to continue down the length of her back, pausing briefly at her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tank to explore her curves. He eventually made the move to discard the garment entirely, clearly intending to take the next step. To hell with the Sith, the mission, the galaxy…and anything else that stood in their way.

    Syren knew what she wanted.

    And so did he.

    As time slowed, they came together as one.

    TAG: QueenSabe7; Darth_wanderguard
     
  17. Mostlymad

    Mostlymad Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    May 12, 2017
    *CLANG*

    The Tusken brothers both visibly cringed as a rather large part of the hanger fell upon their ship and knocked the power out. Their shoulders rose and heads fell with each piece of debris that banged off their ship. Sucked out, adrift, powerless, the brothers sat in the cockpit of the Kterskt in a state of shock as they stared at the Super Star Destroyer that loomed between them and the frozen planet. Jostled once again as they passed through more debris the brothers looked to eat other with dread as they were both reminded of a large part of the hangar that had crashed down upon them.

    “Go,” Ruurur'oaur’rkrur bade his younger brother as he slid his massive frame over from the copilot’s seat into the pilot’s. Valdimar left the cockpit and made a beeline towards the aft of the ship. As he pushed his way through the crowd of Sith he stopped when he noticed the gashes upon Shadow Three and Shadow Five. “There’s a medical bay near the cockpit if anyone needs to treat themselves,” he announced aloud before pushing through the gaggle to the cargo area in the aft of the ship.

    He jumped the steps down into the cargo bay and headed towards where his prized black swoop bike was housed. Banging a section of the wall, a diagnostic panel flipped over and began spitting out data to him regarding the ship. “ქაოსი!” he cursed a little too loud. “ქაოსი, ქაოსი, ქაოსი,” he continued to curse in a mutter. Grabbing a datapad Valdimar began punching in numbers as he walked back up the steps towards the group of refugees they’d picked up.

    Shadow Four was just finishing as he stepped in amongst the group. Lead, we’ve got a few problems,” he addressed General Barrett loud enough for the others to hear. “That loud clang you heard as we exited the hangar knocked out our hyperdrive. Now, given enough time I think I might be able to fix it…” he tilted his head as if thinking hard about it, “might. However… and normally I’d keep these kind of details to myself, but seeing as we don’t have time for me to fix the hyperdrive I’m opening up the floor for suggestions and a plan of action from the peanut gallery here,” he motioned to the Sith gathered on board. As the Chiss general processed the information given Valdimar dropped his biggest bomb yet, “Whatever we decide to do it needs to happen within the next 5 hours… before we run out of air.”

    For those that haven’t read my character’s profile here is a layout of the Kterskt for your reference while aboard the ship.
    [​IMG]

    TAG: Sinrebirth, Darth Cocytus, corinthia, Darth Master Titus, Darth Kronos, Mitth_Fisto, Darth Osnil
     
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  18. DarthIshyZ

    DarthIshyZ Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Jan 8, 2005
    IC: Serapis and Hel (Combo with Lady Belligerent)
    Starting in boy's laboratory. Ending...?

    Serapis saw the laboratory dissolve and heard the boy crying out. The last thought before blacking out was that he was finally rid of that sadistic little creep. He'd want to try to get back to that sadistic little creep when he had more of the Sith with him. If for no other reason than to rescue Alekto and Arach.

    He awoke. Had it been minutes? Hours? He wasn't confined, so that was good. But his clothes were essentially gone. Many of his people walked in nature on Ithor without clothes, so embarrassment wasn't an issue for him. At some point he would need some covering when he was around others.

    He tried to get up. With great difficulty he managed to get to a sitting position. He could see nothing and smell little. Even his sixth sense, the Force, could find nothing of note. But he heard something far off. A machine of some kind. While sitting, he took a few minutes to enter a healing trance. When he was done with that he would need to go back to masking his Force presence again. No telling who was around this time.

    Cargo hold 651A was in a lower aft section and was the perfect place to work out in private. She’d stacked storage containers and even tumbled them up near the ceiling to sharpen her telekinesis skills. Then she set up her own obstacle course to conquer. It was a good time for her, and she was thriving with the freedom and space.

    Today she walked into the normally vacant storage to find it already occupied.

    A strange alien that she thought she’d seen before, just not aboard this ship, was sitting on the floor and wrapped in tattered robes. She poked gently at the sleeping Ithorian, “uh, hello?”

    When Serapis had been meditating especially well, he'd come out in a very relaxed, almost intoxicated, state. This was one of those times. He felt the poking as if it were happening to someone else. The figure appeared to him as through some gauze material - soft on the edges.

    Usually he would have gone on full alert when someone came up to him unexpetedly. As he was in this intoxicated state, he simply said, "Yeah? He-hello. Who are you?" He continued to look at this person, who seemed to be... blurred.

    She bit her bottom lip before asking, “you seem injured, should I call for a physician?” He didn’t feel like a threat, but there were only a few beings that she trusted.

    There was an unmistakable shift in the engines and the Revelator dropped out of hyperspace. Hel realized she was supposed to be on the bridge with her Father...now. “I’m late,” she gasped, “I’m Hel by the way.” Hel smiled slightly and dashed off.

    Hell?, he thought. It was just sinking in as she was leaving. He shook himself fully out of his meditation and shouted after her, "WAIT! Did you see..." but it was too late. He'd not know if Alekto had come this way. He supposed it was time to abandon her. He may see her again, but she was just... gone.

    Serapis got to his feet and walked toward a more brightly-lit area. As the hall he was in got a bit brighter, he noticed some containers throughout the hall, so he supposed this must be a storage compartment of some sort. He took off the tattered robe. It wasn't doing much for him, anyway.

    He went over to one of the larger crates and used the Force to make sure there were no animals inside. Then he forced it open and found some munitions. Specifically his favorite: explosives. His twin mouths formed an evil grin. "Finally something going my way." He recognized these small hand-held devices as similar to thermal detonators.

    He tried a few others and found some items, but nothing of note until one of the last boxes he found some light clothing. He found a shirt and some pants that fit him somewhat and got dressed. He took out another shirt and fashioned it into a bag of sorts to carry his new weapons.

    So, where are we? Turning back to where Hel had gone, he ran, Force assisted, and wound up in a hallway. No one was immediately available, but he heard noises coming from the right. He headed that way.

    He got to where the noises came from and saw a work area. He caught a crewman as he passed. Soon he found out he was on a ship called The Revelator. And he also had directions to the ships bay.

    Tag: Lady Belligerent
     
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  19. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades
    Aboard the Luxury Elite

    Hades had changed into a suit comparable to most people with wealth. It was extravagant, but the part he was about to play was exactly that, extravagant.

    He had not slipped into the role of Zandoran Celix in a while, but it came with ease. He had joined the dealers and buyers for an exclusive meet and greet and talking shop with many of them.

    He’d never really dealt with gems before, but in his previous life, they had been received as payment and he remembered meeting with dealers and appraisers.

    His cover was that he was looking to buy some fine cut gems to finance his new venture, a weapons manufacturing plant.

    He thought back to the meeting where he and Bellorum had decided to send him in as a buyer.

    Aboard Hades Shuttle

    Bellorum had felt his approach and waved the door open as she set aside the datapad she’d been using. “I see you’re ready,” she smiled and nodded towards a seat.“Once we arrive there will be time for briefing the Sith already on board,” she informed Hades in a jovial tone. Clearly, Bellorum was in a much better mood and looking forward to executing their plans. “If...no, when we pull this off, Haretisch and Insipid will be bowing and scraping before me,” she laughed.

    Hades watched the crowd and smiled. He was blending in well enough, the idle chat of galactic affairs making him look less of a threat and more like a guy who could be your friend.

    Hades had learned, though, no one was truly your friend. If you regarded everyone with a small bit of wariness, you were more likely to notice the real dangers. The only problem was that you had to do so without letting others realize you were wary.

    The Chiss female he was chatting with was very politically minded. Her family was considered a dynasty and her father put money behind various political figures so their various business ventures were safeguarded. Hades noticed she was tight-lipped as to what those various ventures actually were.

    He ordered another drink and smiled.

    “It sounds as if your father may be interested in the new political climate. I hear things could be considered, unstable.”

    “Father only cares about one thing, himself. He is watching the First Order and Admiral Thrawn with great interest, but the rumors of the Sith trouble him. “

    “I would think he'd side with Thrawn.”

    “At one time, there would be no question of who he'd back, but Jedi and Sith always end up with a body count. And that is bad for business.”

    If he were merely a businessman he’d have to agree, but war could be profitable.

    “War can be profitable if you have the right friends. Perhaps you should consider which side you want to win.”

    He handed her a card and then moved across the room. The card would indicate he was an arms dealer.

    Morrigan had infiltrated the party as a hostess, dressed elegantly she served drinks and checked the list for anyone not supposed to be there. She’d made sure the real hostess had disappeared in plenty of time for her to show up and convince the organizer to let her take the missing girls place.

    She was stunning in the dark blue dress that shimmered like sapphires in the moonlight. She was just exotic enough to be worth the inconvenience of the original hostess going missing. Originally Hades didn’t want her there, at all, but Morrigan had said she could handle it. She knew how to flirt, how to be sexy and show men the proper amount of interest to keep them wanting to come back.

    For a Sith, Hades disliked slavery and even worse, the sex trade. It was an odd thing, to be capable of murdering someone with ease to further the goals of the Sith, but to see young women forced to service men with no choice, that made him angry.

    He wasn’t even sure why. It was as if something had happened that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that made him protective and not exploitive of young women.

    Morrigan, though, was very good. Her training as a deadly fighter gave her a body that was sleek and catlike. She moved with purpose and ease. She clearly was enjoying toying with the men, being flirty as she served drinks and kept things flowing into the lounge. Soon someone else took her place at the door and bar area and she was sent out among the booths and tables and the open space that was usually a dance floor.

    Hades had told her to learn as much as she could from as many men as she could. Names, occupations, homeworlds. These people had wealth, and the list she generated would be worth millions. Most names on the ledger at the door would be fake, but get a few drinks in a man, and the prospect of sex, and he would tell her the truth to wow her.Sergeant Finis, on the other hand, was in the back room just off the lounge. His job was simple, he and his men were going to pose as maintenance and once the party was over, they would clean up the lounge. They had cleaned it before the party too, planting bugs and wireless cameras. They had also spliced into the Luxury Elite’s very own systems. It was easy when Imperials were on a converted Imperial ship that still used the same systems the ship came with.

    The lounge was also connected to the showroom for the gem show by a sort hall. At this time of the night, no one would be in there, so Finis and his men were casing it and marking up a plan. Entries, Exits, the whole nine yards.

    There was a service hatch and crawl space that ran the length of the showroom, when it was still an Imperial Ship, this area had been entirely for maintenance between the multiple systems intercrossing above and below the decks.

    The only snag was that The Family knew those crawl spaces were there and had them lined with motion detectors. Finis assured Hades he would have a game plan once the Dawn Herald called on them to do the job.

    Hades was pleased that all he had to do was mingle and wave money around. He was already making under the table deals with some lower level members of the Family that were involved as insurance for the heist.

    Even better was the fact that half the buyers and dealers in the room were willing to talk price and undercut each other before the show even started. Hades had found one gentleman willing to drop out of the buying for a shipment of guns. Everyone wanted something, and Hades was happy to find it.

    If he had enough time and money, he could undercut everyone here and walk away a very happy Sith, of course, most of them would end up paid in blood and broken necks, but that was the price of business among cutthroats.

    He grinned as Morrigan came to stand beside him and handed him another drink. She also handed him a datadisk that had digital copies of everything about the gem show. She really was good at what she did.

    TAG: NONE UNTIL LATER
     
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  20. Dagobahsystem

    Dagobahsystem Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 25, 2015
    IC: Apprentice Saadi
    Hyperspace (part 1)

    As the clawdite clawed at clusters of crushed airways; he slowly saw to die as twas brillig and the sithly toves changeling of a sudden heard a voice on low proclaim Brilliant.

    Saadi sighed deeply and immediately coughed quietly as his airway had been instantly restored to nominal functionality and his hearing registered harmonious remarks that seemed incongruous yet welcome all the same.

    Very good, Saadi. You please me.

    Coughing courteously one final time, the assassin nodded respectfully as he noticed the Emperor was holding his detonator. Saadi conjured a meek smile and gently shrugged; embracing the dark side of the Force.

    Placing his hands and feet firmly on the floor of the ship like a crouched dog, Saadi slowly regained his composure and cautiously rose to his feet once again, pushing himself slowly upwards once again into a bipedal posture and wiping the spittle from his lips while maintainting a respectful distance and demeanour all the while. Sighing and raising his eyes towards his master he listened intently once again as Insipid spoke.

    Tag: Sinrebirth
     
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  21. Kaleesh-Cyborg

    Kaleesh-Cyborg Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jan 4, 2017
    Combo with dragonsith13 featuring Kael and Yavessk

    The room was dimly lit, the starscape out the modest viewport of a bartender’s quarters shown enough light to illuminate the room just enough. The hum of the ship droned on the only thing breaking the silence of space.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    Saleel spoke as she raised herself up onto one of her elbows, the smooth sheets covering her as she wrapped them around herself a bit, rising further to sit up fully. Facing away from Saleel in bed, Kael stood as he was getting dressed adjusting his robes and clasping his belt.
    ‘To kill some people.’Kael said in absolute seriousness, his ability to do so and willingness having been demonstrated first hand to Saleel already. She did not doubt him for a moment.
    ‘Your superiors will be wanting the intelligence you have gathered.’
    Kael spoke eluding to the fact that he knew she was more than a mere bartender and entertainer. Saleel leaned forward trying to brush off his comment. ‘Intelligence?!?!’ Saleel seemed to adjust in the bed, a bit nervous from the statement.
    ‘I am not someone you want to have coming after you my love… let’s keep it that way.’
    Kael finished adjusting his robes as he sheathed a vibro-blade up his sleeve, another was already tucked into his boot.
    ‘You do not want to be stuck on this scrap heap forever?’ Kael posed the question to her as he stood ready to leave.
    ‘Frak this place. I am wasting my life here.’
    ‘Good.’Kael grinned.
    ‘Get dressed and be ready.’Kael turned and approached Saleel drawing back toward the bed and leaning into her. Kissing her as he grabbed the back of her neck. Kael slipped a comm link to her and closed it into her hand. ‘I’ll call on you shortly for help.’
    ‘Be sure you can… play the parts.’ Kael smiled at her as he slipped away and exited the room.
    ‘Yavessk meet me in the upper entertainment ward.’ Kael exited the room, the hiss of the door closing behind him leaving Saleel alone in the bed.
    Kael was looking at the datapad, information being fed in by the scout probes deployed earlier. More information on specific desired locations, ship plans, security routes, access points, video surveillance feeds, and data all previously disseminated and guarded information at his fingertips for him to take in.
    Particularly information on two of the six targets, including state room numbers, credit receipts, and a security feed from distinct clubs both had frequented on the ship within the last 72 hours. They had their starting points and now Kael expected Yavessk any moment, as he took one last tip of a cup of café, while he sat at a corridor kiosk near one of the main turbolifts to the upper entertainment ward.

    Yavenssk can only stare in mortified shock at the Duro he had Force-choked to death. He feels terrible--not necessarily out of remorse, but more over the fact that he had lost control to such a degree. He could have just slapped them around and let them live in fear of him for the rest of their lives. He didn't have to kill them--certainly not with the Force of all things. And he had projected his anger at others onto these creatures to the point of killing more than one. The sickness inside his soul afflicts his guts with intense nausea over having done this. His self control had been something he took great pride in and the sense of loss is terrifying to him.

    "Yavenssk, meet me in the upper entertainment ward."

    The summons through the Force causes his head to ring and it startles him out of his stupor, causing him to stagger backwards and catch himself on an end table, knocking a lamp over, which shatters on impact. He growls and clutches his head angrily. Wait. He is still angry? After all this mess? Oh, yes. He is still viciously angry. He could kill another two dozen of these guys. Maybe he would feel better after a spree like that. A growl of pure rage erupts from his throat and he puts his fist through the wall before stepping over the bodies of the scattered Duro gang and storms out into the hall, headed for the designated meeting place Kael has instructed him to go to.


    Force help you if I am still this furious when I meet up with you, Master, he thinks bitterly, If it were up to me, your mission and mine would be cut terribly short here.

    With no words Yavessk came up next Kael. The pair shoulder to should, as they made their way into the lift, boarding, and toggling the upper ward once they were inside. A few more patrons entered the lift. A pair stumbling in already enjoying themselves a bit much it seemed before even having arrived in the entertainment wards. Kael towards the back of it with Yavessk next to him. Kael had felt the seething anger from Yavessk the entire time he had made his way to meet him. Fresh blood on his hands, whether he knew it or not, his senses were heightened by him allowing the darkside to creep into him.
    This deck of the ship was thriving… never sleeping, this deck was the home of the higher rollers. There were always more secluded and elite establishments, but this deck provided it all to those seeking whatever manner of indulgence they desired. Lieutenant Governor Grandol Sinan had frequented a particular club, full of dancing women, and vices. Such was a strong draw to a young man with power and stature. Moff Wyla Kase had been busy in one of the high rolling Pazaak Dens, her age and wisdom pushing her towards subtler singular entertainment for her own enjoyment. Her more strategic mind relegated to mastering and making money on the gambling tables, away from her duties of controlling systems.
    At last Kael turned to Yavessk as they approached a general concourse which led to the various establishments.
    ‘Find the Lady, appeal to her honor and bravado perhaps. Swap some stories of glory and find a way to get her attention… I will handle the gentleman.’
    Why do you always put me in a position to draw the attention of a female? Yavenssk thinks as Kael gives him instructions, Not only is she female, but one that qualifies as a senior, which demands even greater respect from myself. Thanks a lot. Why don't you just put me on a leash and be done with it?

    He can't be as rude and to the point with females; it's just disrespectful. And as irritated as he is right now, he doesn't exactly trust his ability to be civilized. Nevertheless, a confrontation with a male character would be far more of a temptation for him to get ugly, so perhaps he should be grateful for Kael's strategy. Should be. So far, he hasn't found much reason to be grateful to Kael for anything.

    He refrains from talking to his master about the incident in the private room. He does not want to talk about it. The loss of control shames him and "cheating in combat" as he had vowed he never would shames him even more. He still hates Kael for awakening this beast within him, but he tries not to let on to that too much. Although sometimes, it just cannot be helped.


    "Oh, humans have honor?" he asks pointedly, "That is breaking news to me. Might want to make sure that one gets out on the Holonet."

    He doesn't bother even trying to muzzle the biting sarcasm in his tone. He is angry and will likely stay that way for a while. It had taken the killing to figure out the root cause of his anger though. It is Kael. Draconis. His master. Whatever he cares to call himself. If the man had just left him alone to pursue that cursed Darth Alva to his own demise, none of this would be happening now. He certainly would not have fallen prey to the power within himself.

    "As you command, Master," he replies scathingly, "I am no politician, nor am I an actor, but if I break a leg in this performance, you should know it will not be my own."

    With that word of warning, Yavenssk moves to the perimeter to watch and to wait for the right moment to approach the woman at the gambling tables. He will really have to plan his approach carefully. He knows nothing about gambling games and has no desire to participate, so that ruse is out. He certainly doesn't want to appear to be hitting on an older woman either, which it may appear as such no matter what angle he tries to use on this.

    "I really hate your guts, Kael," he fumes under his breath, "Straight through to the marrow in your bones, I hate you."

    Kael’s mouth curled at the anger directed at him by his apprentice. ‘I know you do. Keep it that way.’
    ‘Meet here Yavessk, when you have acquired your target.’ Kael tapped his comm, forwarding a coordinate and location on the ship, deep in the engineering quarter. Kael disappeared down one of the corridors towards a club. Kael had toggled the comm link again, covered up by his sleeve on his arm, this time alerting his need of someone else’s presence. It was amazing that a person of such would expose himself in such a place, yet again one did tend to think of oneself of invincible surrounding by guards. There were subtle ways to get through guards. Kael had made his way through the club, this one a bit higher tempo than the jazz-like bar he had frequented. Settling into the sway of the club Kael, took note of the Lieutenant Governor, while he got himself a blood whiskey. It was not long before she found him. Entering the club and turning heads, no one would have known that the woman catching eyes was a bartender on this very ship. No one from this area of the ship would be any wiser. The color changing silver and red dress which hugged every curvy inch of her body, drew the desired attention. Her entrance was as anticipated and when she came up to Kael, offering a kiss to the cheek, the air in the room standing still for a moment. Kael smiled. ‘I see you found the dress I left you.’
    ‘I did.’Saleel smiled back with her dark lips.
    ‘You going to buy me a drink?’
    Kael amused, reach back grabbing a glass. ‘I am.’Handing her a ready blood whisky as well. Kael took the moment to also draw her attention and turn her to the side.
    ‘But I think we should also buy the Governor a drink as well?’Kael pointed out the man, the Governor, staring at Saleel from across the room, whom suddenly realized he was staring and tried to play it off.
    ‘Let’s.’

    Blood still boiling with resentment toward his master, Yavenssk can't seem to stop growling. Not a good way to approach a moff. Or a female for that matter. He can't even stay on the perimeter at this point. Slipping into a janitorial closet, he remains there, growling in barely contained rage. Fortunately, the sound is low enough that it isn't heard above the raucous of the gambling tables. He thinks about tearing the closet up while he's in there, but refrains and steps back out into the open, a bit calmer now that he's vocalized his anger.

    But not much calmer. Snapping certainly is not an impossibility.

    But enough of this. If he keeps letting the mess with this Force power rattle him, he will never live to see his freedom from this sick and twisted culture. He forces his mind to focus. He has a mission. Though it is not as clear cut as he would prefer, it is still a mission; something to focus on. A goal to reach. Right now his goal is to get close enough to this moff to lull her into complacency and capture her. Unfortunately, this mission crosses into being a bit politically savvy. In a word, two-faced. Yavenssk may live his life behind a literal mask, but what you see is what you get. He doesn't do phoniness and, by extension, he doesn't do politics. If he were just being sent in to blitz this moff and apprehend her, no problem. It would be done and over with by now. It's the political aspect in this that has him balking.


    "This is so stupid," he mutters, flipping his cloak over his shoulder and deciding to cut to the chase and just wing it. He hates approaching anything without a plan, but in this particular instance, in his situation, planning simply will not do. He strides over to the gambling tables with purpose and takes a place quite close to his target, not bothering to hide the fact that he is observing her. No doubt, she will eventually feel his gaze on her and question him about it. He has a ruse. It is a total lie as any ruse is, and probably not a very good one, but it's the best he can do given the circumstances.

    The indiscriminate cargo room was dark. Yavessk would find it eerily familiar, stirring up some recent memories of himself as if Kael had partially selected it as a reminder specifically for Yavessk. Kael was recused slightly in the shadows silently watching over Lieutenant Governor Grandol Sinan who was already restrained, seated, and bound in the center of the room. On time Yavessk entered, Moff Wyla Kase in front of him brought, restrained with a pair of binders. Yavessk sent the woman forward with a nudge, causing her to fall to the floor near the Governor. Yavessk had succeeded, a slight tug at the corner of Kael’s mouth, satisfied that his apprentice had used a skill set perhaps not previously thought available to him. Nonetheless and regardless of the method he was hear with his desired target as well.

    ‘My friend, do not be so rude. Get our other guest a chair please.’Kael referring to Yavessk, to get her a seat and by seat he meant crate, which was what the Governor sat upon as well. There was enough room for them to be back to back on it.
    Kael waited until the Moff was seated as well to continue. ‘I could ask the both of you about any number of things.’Kael paused, allowing for Yqvessk to take a more intimidating posture near the two of them. ‘Corruption. Bribes. Secret Syndicates within the Imperial ranks. Deals in place to line pockets and pay for such luxurious trips as the one to this vessel.’

    ‘That would be boring, and I am tired of talking…’

    ‘Yavessk if you would please…’


    Kael left the discussion at that, implying that he wanted him to take the lead.

    He already feels like a heel for this. He had effectively suckered the moff woman into believing he was seeking to learn the art of gambling. He had played the part for as long as he felt necessary and then discreetly threatened her with "accidental" death and dismemberment if she did not cooperate, reinforcing the threat by giving her a small taste of being choked by the Force. He had then coerced her into surrendering any weapons she had on her person and then bound her in such a way as to make it look like he was being a gentleman of an escort while in public view. The only thing he can't discreetly cover up is the conspicuous limp the moff has gained from her foolish move of kicking him in the shin. She probably fractured her own foot while he had felt nothing.

    He growls as Kael tells him to mind his manners. Etiquette is not his forte anyway, but being called out on it like a youngling is just annoying to him. He doesn't bother attempting to be less rude though. He just picks up the moff and dumps her on her backside on the crate with about as much courtesy as he would afford a sack of manure. Ordinarily, he would not really be quite this rude and brutish, but he is very unsettled and his temper is bubbling just below the surface. In short, he is like an oversized walking time bomb at the moment. Kael is taking a massive gamble in letting the cyborg take point.


    "You will cough up every scrap of shady business you are involved in or it will be strangled out of you," he grumbles at their male hostage, jabbing him roughly in the chest with a clawed finger while his other hand closes the Force around the throat of the female again as a reminder, "It is your choice as to how your information will be obtained. It may appear as though you have no control over your situation, but the reality is...you do."

    Stepping back and clasping his hands behind him, the cyborg paces in a slow circle around the two hostages. He tries to stay focused on them; on their body language, but the room itself has deepened his sense of unease. Memories of his time under the torture of Draconis try to clamor to the forefront of his mind like rushing water striking a dam. His mission demands that he not waver and he knows it, but this setting is more than a little distracting to him. He does not want to to think about what had happened to him here, but it almost cannot be helped. He curses in Kaleesh before picking up the male hostage by his lapels and shaking him.

    "Out with it, slime!" he snarls, "My time is not your luxury!"

    An unnecessary outburst, perhaps, but for Yavenssk and his sanity, it is necessary. He is trying to remain focused and ignore the disturbing setting Kael has chosen. Oh, how he hates the dark one for this! He could have chosen anywhere on this ship, but he chose this blasted cargo hold and Yavenssk knows he did it on purpose. He steps back from the hostages again, awaiting some sort of answer while temptation gnaws at the back of his mind and he finds himself wondering if he is capable of electrocuting these two. Wouldn't it be ironic if he "accidentally" fried Kael with them. Not likely, but the fantasy is most amusing.

    ‘You have any idea who I am?’ The Governor spoke. Spitting the words out at Yavessk and Kael in the shadows. The Moff was still orienting herself and coming to after having been thrust into the situation. Remaining silent as she tried to take barring of her surroundings and the predicament she was in. ‘When I get out of here I will personally watch you turned to scrap.’

    "Do you have any idea how much I don't care who you are?" Yavennsk spits right back and one simply cannot doubt the brutal honesty behind the retort, "Your status means nothing to me, human, and it will not save you. Do you wish to test me on that?"

    He eyes narrow as the governor finds the brass to make threats. Humans are so stupid sometimes. Even he was smart enough to know threats were futile when he had been held captive in this very room. He allows himself a slight laugh at the behavior. Humans always seem to think they have higher rights than other beings and they act in accordance with their thoughts. All foolishness to the Kaleesh. Even in his pride, he knows when he's been had. This interrogation is turning out to be entertaining after all.

    "Of course, you will only personally watch," he scoffs, circling slowly around to the moff, "Because you will get someone else to do the dirty work for you. Isn't that right...madam?"

    He sneers in disgust behind his mask. He hates the type who are afraid to get their hands dirty. If he has qualms with anyone, he will take care of it himself whether it ends up being messy or not. Most Kaleesh operate the same way. Humans, on the other hand...lazy, self-seeking, greedy beasts, they are. He circles back around to the male hostage and comes to a halt directly in front of him.

    "So...what shall it be, mister high and mighty lieutenant governor?" he asks, casually lifting a taloned foot, "Will you cooperate or will I have to use pain as a means to motivate you?"

    Without warning, he slams his talons down on Sinan's foot, hard enough to shatter some bones. Releasing his rage in this manner feels good...but would it bring even more relief if he were to use the Force to inflict as much pain?

    The Governor looks at Yavessk frustrated, his mouth open trying to draw in breaths. The binders cutting into his wrists and ankles. The Governor left sight of Yavessk as he paced around and out of his field of vision. The Moff now seeing Yavessk before her. Insulting her and her willingness to get her hands dirty. Stay silent as she glares at him with hate filled eyes.

    The sound of a slamming talon is all she hears, followed by a painful scream from the Governor. The top of his foot shatters, as two of his toes are also crushed with the same motion. The Moff seated back to back to the Governor, winced at the idea of hearing the bone crushed and the scream.

    'My body guards will be descending upon this room any second now!' She screamed at Yavessk, trying to impress the danger and situation her captors would be in momentarily. Who knew if it was just and empty threat.

    Satisfied by the yowl of pain from the lieutenant governor, Yavenssk steps back and slowly circles around to the moff again. She had tried to remain stoically silent and had done a fairly decent job up until the bodily harm that resulted in the sheer agony of the man she sits back to back with. For a moment, the Kaleesh cyborg feels a stab of guilt. These people have done nothing personally to him or his people. Why has it become so easy for him to mindlessly inflict pain on them? What is happening to him? To his honor? His blood runs cold as he realizes he is losing himself to whatever Draconis had managed to do to his mind in this cargo hold.

    The outburst of the threat from the moff snaps him out of his escalating panic and annoyance returns. Does she really think her body guards are scarier than he is? More powerful when he is practically a living machine? Hardly. He rolls his eyes as the thought comes around for a second time: humans are so stupid.


    "You wish," he scoffs, unimpressed as he activates a holovid projecting a playback of himself massacring the moff's bodyguards, "Your bodyguards have been reduced to...body parts, I'm afraid. My apologies. They attacked me first. You mess with the reek, you get the horns. And your futile threat has only proven that what I have stated is true. You never do your own dirty work. So, besides trying to intercept this current predicament that you justly deserve, what other dirty work have you had your bodyguards do for you, madam? I am just curious."

    He casually props a foot up on the crate the two are seated on, the structure groaning in protest under the added weight of the metal monstrosity. His hulking form towers over the moff as he drums the talons of his foot menacingly beside her. He hates what he is doing here; despises his own brutish behavior. But in the same token, he is enjoying it. He is so furious inside that this outlet of intimidation feels like precisely what the doctor ordered.

    The Moff looked in disbelief as she tried to maintain her composure. There was no one coming for her. Meanwhile the Governor was groaning in pain still from the multiple broken bones in his feet, panting as he tried to regain his breath. As if not having had his fill, the Governor spoke - taunting Yavessk.'You will get nothing from me! You worthless piece of bounty hunter scum!' Making the assumption that Yavessk was in fact a bounty hunter, and potentially implying that a bounty hunter would be after him in the first place... for reasons unknown. Nonetheless, what he thought to be an insult may have yielded information. Yavessk already knew both of them were part of the family, perhaps it was time to leverage that and dig a bit deeper.

    The Moff chimed in as well, hoping to add insult as well as she tried to writhe her way out of the bindings. Quite the futile exercise, but who could blame her. 'You mercenaries are all the same! Looking for cheap quick credits!'

    'I have dozens of body guards and legions at my disposal! I will hunt you down and use you for scrap!' Quite true both of the Imperials had quite the extensive resources at their disposal, but none of that really matter currently. Bound to a crate, with no one to hear them. Perhaps it was time Yavessk step up the interrogation, they needed tangible information about the family. They would give it to him, one way or another. Kael looked on observing to see how Yavessk would modify his methods and drill deeper for information.

    Yavenssk quirks a brow behind his mask and one can almost imagine something of a triumphant smile hidden behind there as well at the lieutenant governor's outburst identifying him as a bounty hunter. Clearly this one has had some dealings that he knows would make him a target for somebody. Retracting his talons from the crate, Yavenssk circles around again and stands beside the governor, but stays just beyond his field of vision, placing a cold durasteel hand on the back of the man's neck and digging his claws into his flesh just enough to cause pain and instill fear.

    "Why would a bounty hunter come after you, governor?" he asks as though the very notion is just plain silly, "And, more importantly, who would send one? A jilted lover? Maybe a superior you embezzled from? Hiring a bounty hunter often is when there is a personal qualm. Whom have you royally ticked off? Give me the right name and I might shift my loyalties and take care of them for you."

    He might have maintained this focus, but the moff's outburst provokes Yavenssk's aggression. This bounty hunter coverup is one he cannot stand and holding to it has scarcely been easy. Kaleesh do not hire bounty hunters and rarely do they take on the occupation for themselves except maybe out of desperation. They kill whomever needs killing and they do it of their own volition. This right here is just nonsense to him and he certainly doesn't give a flip about credits.

    "Do not make the gamble of assuming I am like you, madam," he growls, "Cheap, quick credits, indeed. Says the moff I captured collecting her winnings from a gambling table. I could have had a pile of credits right there if I wanted them now, couldn't I? You are a fool, wise in your own eyes, but if you were truly wise, you would not be in this situation."

    Releasing the lieutenant governor, the cyborg again circles around the crate, hands clasped behind his back. His circling brings him to stand directly in front of the female where, without warning, he slams a foot into her ribs, forcing her back against her captured companion hard enough to effectively knock the wind out of both of them.

    "You will hunt me down?" he chuckles deep in his throat, "You alone? Doubtful. You will send your 'legions' after me because, as I have stated before, you will never get your hands dirty and that is why I have no respect for the likes of you. And now...this game grows tiresome. You humans are far too predictable. I, on the other hand, try to keep things interesting."

    He gives one final rough shove with his foot before retracting it and placing it back on the floor. He stands there in silence for several heartbeats. Dare he try doing to them what Draconis had done to him? Is he able to intrude on another's mind through the Force as well? He can feel his heart accelerate. With anticipation. No. With dread. As equally as he stands to succeed, he stands to be humiliated. He has no idea how to probe someone else's mind. He knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of the action, but to actually initiate it...

    He curses in Kaleesh under his breath. There is only one way to find out just how deep his roots in the Force run. Staring at the woman through narrowed eyes, his focus becomes deathly intense until it appears as though he is looking through her rather than at her. Suddenly, dozens of alphanumeric characters flash through his vision like ticker tapes scrolling in all directions. It freaks him out and he staggers sideways, clutching his head with one hand, losing his focus and thereby breaking the connection. So he really
    does have this ability...

    The strength of the the grip on his neck is enough to cause minor lacerations to his neck, but the uncomfortable crushing causes pain down his spin and throughout his body, making him forget about his foot for an instant, but only that. The kick to the ribs of the Moff is a hard jolt to both of them, particularly the Moff, who takes the brunt of the impact.

    The Moff attempts to howl in pain, but the absence of air in her lungs from the kick makes this near impossible, a low unladylike like groan, a gag, and a bit of spit as she wheezes trying to regain the breathe knocked out of her. The look on her face however is focused in fear, as she feels herself being violated, her mind invaded as she stares at Yavessk realizing what is happening. The Governor behind her is regaining his breath as well, still twisting in pain from the crushed foot still providing agonizing pain to him. He was in her head! Afraid of what might come next she braces, trying to clear her mind, despite the pain in her ribs, clearly several of them broken form the impact. A potential punctured lung to go with it.

    It is a tall task for Yavessk, only truly breaching his powers for the first time. Probing one mind, let alone two. The Governor's head was trying to turn searching to see what was going on like an anxious schoolboy. Not like he was going anywhere. Kael watched on eagerly anticipating Yavessk taking the next step and elevating this interrogation. They were already running short on time. As discrete as they had been, they dare not linger longer than they need.

    Yavessk feels that despised flight instinct rise up within him again; that primal instinct that bids him to flee from perceived danger. Except there is no danger. Not to him anyway. To the two hostages, the danger is great. Perhaps it's not danger his instincts are telling him to flee; perhaps it is the unknown. No, it's not even that. It's reliving the terror Draconis had put him through by probing his mind. He fears it and knowing he is capable of doing it himself only deepens the fear. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he tries desperately to recover. He knows Kael is watching him; perhaps waiting for him to come apart at the seams so he can gloat. Curse that devilish spook! And curse Yavessk if he lets his past torture get to him.

    Steeling his resolve, he focuses on the addiction that this power elicits. The feeling of being completely unstoppable and the polar opposite of a victim. Yavessk would never adopt a victim mentality, no matter how powerless he's been made to feel, but this power has the potential to shield him from being a victim ever again. He wishes he had known what he was capable of back when he was captured and taken into slavery...

    Shaking his head with a growl of frustration, he realizes he has been losing his focus. He needs to finish what he started. It's not enough that he was able to penetrate a single mind for mere seconds. He needs to go deeper and unearth what he is looking for. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he settles into the trancelike state again, amber eyes shining with the ravenous hunger of a predator.

    And the alphanumeric ticker tape starts up again. Panic wraps itself around his throat, but he refuses to pull back. He must push forward as though he is on the front lines, despite the sensory overload he is experiencing. As he holds fast to the connection, sound starts to come through along with sight. Hands typing codes into keypads on walls; low echoing voices murmuring letters and numbers; laser scanners scanning retinas and fingerprints. He can scarcely keep up with it all as it bombards his senses. The feeling of being overwhelmed threatens to push him back, but he maintains, trying to willfully rifle through the moff's memories.

    After a moment, he starts to sense an attempt at resistance. It doesn't surprise him, but it does briefly stall his efforts. A soft growl of frustration precedes his push forward, intensifying his focus. Sounds, images, and voices begin to move again. An alphanumeric code repeats several times either by sight or by sound and that is when he realizes he has gained access to the part of the mind that hopes against hope that he will not find this. Committing the pattern to memory, he tries to ease out of the probe, but doing this for the first time for him can be likened to driving a manual speeder for the first time. Buck. Jolt. Grind. Stall. Lurch. Whiplash. By the time he does pull out, he finds he has a rather unpleasant headache.


    "You, my gambling pain in the posterior, have been most helpful," he says to the moff, though even his own voice seems too loud for him to tolerate. His eyes snap toward the bearded governor behind her. "What are you looking at? Eyes forward."

    The currents of the force twisted a slight audible jolt could be heard a Kael watched Yavessk push himself deeper into the Moff’s mind. The initial tasting of her thoughts served to only reassure him that he could do it, no the matter of if he would fully commit to it was on the table. Yavessk starting to delve deeper, focusing on the Moff as she squirmed in her binders and shifted feeling Yavessk violating her privacy and mind. Kael can feel Yavessk pushing and exploring his powers and then like pulling a plug, the meld was broken suddenly as Yavessk pulled out.

    ‘What are you looking at…’ Yavessk scolds the Governor, whom snaps back to look forward, fearful of what might be in store for him next. Frozen in fear.

    The Moff leaned forward, exhausted and confused from what had been done to her. The mechanical Cyborg beast, towering over her still. I was time for him to move onto the Governor, though as Yavessk would come around to face him, he would only see the Governor slumped forward. A gurgling coming from his crushed airway. ‘We have everything we need from the Governor’ Kael states, as he had silently been extracting from the Governor… while Yavessk had been involved with the Moff. The last air left the Governors lungs and he expired, his flush and purple face now lifeless. His throat crushed by Kael through the force.

    Kael was satisfied with Yavessk’s use of his abilities. Between the two of them they had what they needed, Kael had felt it necessary to speed things up as their window and time exposed here was approaching a critical juncture. A slender woman emerged from the shadows near Kael, Saleel, the new in ship confident and adopted agent of Kael.

    ‘Kill her.’Kael spoke referring to the Moff, directing Yavessk to silence their loose end.

    ‘Saleel will aid you in disposing of the bodies in one of the incinerators.’ Kael moved to exit the room. ‘Make sure everything is clean.’

    ‘Saleel will accompany you to access their suites and retrieve what is available.’ They could access safes, files, devices and begin syphoning back intel to the intelligence network and the Night Herald.

    Kael sent a message to Yavessk telepathically as he left, Master to Apprentice… ‘Stay out of sight…’

    Yavessk grimaces behind his mask as Kael's voice seems excessively loud to him. He startles as the governor appears to have choked to death, it taking him a moment to realize that Kael had been dealing with him while the cyborg had been probing the mind of the moff. A feeling of regret seizes him briefly as his master orders him to kill the woman. Killing someone who is defenseless--and a female, no less--does not in any way adhere to his honor code. He almost whirls on Kael and blatantly tells him to kill her himself and perhaps Kael is aware of this, for suddenly memories of his own torture in this room rage to the forefront of his mind and he somehow loses the nerve to be insubordinate. He will dispose of this witness, but he will be cursed to hell if he uses the Force to do it. He draws one of his lightsabers.

    "I will not prolong your suffering, madam," he says in a low tone, regret heavy in his voice, "This is not the way I would have handled this situation. Forgive me."

    From here he must shut down and become as cold and non-thinking as a programmed droid. He cannot think about his honor or how repulsive this action is against a bound and defenseless female. Yet he punishes himself by making direct eye contact, taking in her fear and her defenselessness with the full knowledge that her terror-stricken face will haunt him for the rest of his days. He finds no pleasure in it; only shame. Cursed be the dark one for forcing him into this position! Suddenly, the face of the defenseless woman before him takes on the features of Kael and all of the anger and hatred for that man numbs the shame.

    And Yavessk plunges his lightsaber through the heart of the moff, almost believing it to really be Kael he has killed up until her lifeless shell falls to the floor. Only then does reality return to him, bringing with it the shame in all its fullness, but he absorbs it; hides it as he turns to Saleel.


    "Direct me to where I can dispose of the atrocities that happened here and make haste about it," he commands, clearly full of barely restrained rage, "Or I will see to it that both of these deaths are tied to you alone."

    Tag: dragonsith13 Darth_wanderguard
     
  22. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Anark & T'Tkura (combo with the ever sublime dragonsith13

    Aboard the ship of the sinister Darth Anark...


    He watched as the dazzling blue of hyperspace popped outside the cockpit viewport. Tiq sat slouched in the pilot's seat, his tiny, robed legs dangling a couple of feet above the floor. The Sith made his way through to where the Jedi were seated, clicking the button on the back of his face mask. It's durasteel plates shifted and clinked, the respiratory mechanism gave a loud sigh as it disengaged. He set it down under one of the benches and made his way over to a standing compartment where a fresh set of robes was stashed.

    "The Luxury Elite is our destination, gentlemen," Anark said as he stripped fully out of his damp clothing, standing naked as he poked around in the small compartment for a full outfit. "I'd have thought there would be some kind of unwritten Jedi code that prevents you from entering an... unwholesome place such as the elite'," he said with a fast growing grin. He pulled on a full set of under armor, then some actual armor, then his robes. As he fiddled with the fastenings on a pair of shiny black boots he regarded the cluster of Jedi with a child-like delight evident in his eyes, as though it was the first time he'd seen them. He certainly did not ever expect to have any aboard his own shuttle who wern't either in chains or deceased.

    The Luxury Elite. A hive of all manner of unwholesomeness, their Sith host had put it. Their host speaking up regarding the notion that Jedi shied away from such venues. The contempt and unspoken vitriol from the Sith was palpable, the fact that the Jedi sat unrestrained and free on his vessel was no doubt burning at his insides. T’Tkura was seated at the table in the main hold, applying a bacta patch to his arm. Meditation healed nearly all wounds, but who knew how much time they would have before arriving at their destination. When they had first boarded the shuttle, he had entered a healing trance while they made the jump before tending to and checking on the others before sitting down to apply treatment to himself. They had been on the move for who knew how long, sitting down had been the first real reprieve from it all. Not really a moment of peace, but a moment nonetheless.


    And now it was being interrupted by the incessant chiding of the Sith, trying to grapple at the Jedi’s morality. T’Tkura took a long deep breath, breathing out slowing, keeping himself focused and centered as he was concentrating on healing. ‘We go where it is required of us.’He plainly and yet even more vaguely responded to the Sith. The notion that they were forbidden or even more pulled into the fray of such, because of their proximity to certain unscrupulous items. Was an amusing notion, no more than a Sith being influences by their proximity to knowledge and wisdom and using it. T’Tkura kept the thought to himself as he remained focused. Even though he felt the urge to inquire more about their upcoming arrival, he waited to see what additional information of conversation the Sith might initiate.

    Anark pulled his feet up onto the chair and squatted, leering at T'Tkura like a vulture examining a carcus.
    "So this is what's left of the illustrious Jedi Order?" he chuckled.

    The chaos going on inside his head - a by-product of the notion of the Jedi free to roam is personal shuttle, made conversation difficult, a dozen distinct personalities fighting for the limelight.

    "Can't you see that you're finished? That your kind is finished? The Sith Empire is still one entity. You, however, are scattered. Tiny shards of glass of an order that is just too far gone to be restored."

    The Sith's face had turned cold, almost saddened in a strange way.

    "I do not make the rules, I'm just a cog in the great machine of this galaxy's future, a valuable cog, but a cog nonetheless." He eyed the ceiling and then shot his gaze back to T'Tkura. "The God Emperor may well grant you a place if you are prepared to admit your wrong doing and submit. You are already powerful, all of you, I have seen that much," his neck jerked for a second and a twitch was apparent on his left eyelid, "You could be so powerful!"

    "So this is what's left of the illustrious Jedi Order?" A chuckle emanating from the young Sith’s mouth. Commenting on the state of what he saw the Jedi Order as.
    ‘Perhaps.’‘T’Tkura spoke responding calmly, not giving into the taunts. ‘Then again ‘Orders’ in general are not the benchmark of strength.’
    There was no doubt that his heart was heavy with feelings and emotions, ones which he was attempting to center and flesh out. Even for the most learned, wise, and centered of Jedi, it was a battle to not allow such thoughts of loss eventually creep into one’s head. "Can't you see that you're finished? That your kind is finished? Again, scrapping and clawing at his psyche, the words resonated with some truth. The rest of the words were heard, but pushed aside in his mind. They had no knowledge of the order. No locations, communications… nothing. Many things had transpired on Mortis, and many things in between then and now. Where they were? When they were? Questions still unanswered.

    T’Tkura was still trying to convince himself that by going along with this they might find some answers, but would it be worth it. Ending up pawns or spectators to the plans of the forces reining in the galaxy at current. Some part of him hoped they would all wake up, but the sobering reminder of the cold of space told him otherwise. The force was strong throughout the galaxy, surging but unsure of itself. The Sith did speak of great power held by one Order. But was it the order he thought it to be…

    ‘What makes you think your God-Emperor will be the one granting the mercy in the near future?’

    So sure, of their power and what they thought was to be… there definitely were dark currents about. He responded to the claim that they would need to repent and seek the mercy of the rulling Sith and their Emperor in the coming times. T’Tkura wondered if the Sith would take the moment to wonder about the position he seemed so sure of. "You could be so powerful!" The vain attempt to appeal to the Jedi’s need or hunger for power was not of firm footing. It was true that they needed strength, position, and leverage but those opportunities would present themselves in time.

    Whether the Sith thought his offer was sincere, it would be potentially short lived as in the long run it was not up to him. Perhaps the momentary emotional binding T’Tkura felt in him was but an anomaly. Who knew… this was the first time T’Tkura had been able to rest in who knew how long… even if a sworn blood enemy was right next to him. This game was growing tiring…


    ‘What do you have to drink Sith?’T’Tkura switched gears… hoping to change the mood. A good hard drink was in order.

    Anark lunged from his crouched position on he seat to stand hunched over almost nose to nose with T’Tkura, a bell jingled somewhere in his robes. His face beamed, “Now you’re talking!”

    He pranced over to a cabinet on the far side of the space. A melody of voices in his head were still in uproar at the presence of the Jedi guests.

    He returned with a large, half-full bottle of smokey-brown liquid and handed a large tankard to everyone.

    It’s Corellian,” he announced as he poured a hearty measure into each glass, “it’ll lift our sullen hearts, gentlemen!”

    Upon taking his seat again Anark adopted a more relaxed posture, reclining back and taking swigs of his beverage.

    The Luxury Elite is a way off yet, what exactly is your story, Jedi T’Tkura?”

    Eager to entertain the Sith seemed as he hopped up at T’Tkura’s mentioning of the desire for a drink. The Sith moving to gather a bottle of Smokey brown liquid, the proclamation of its origin piquing T’Tkura’s interest further. ‘Corellian eh?’
    Waiting for a glass to be poured, he mused on the question posed to him. ‘My story?’

    ‘Hmmm’T’Tkura let out a slight gruff sigh. T’Tkura looked about as Draco seemed to be occupied with his own items to attend to. Radian was not seeming to want to participate.

    T'Tkura grasped the glass after watching the Sith pour a hearty helping of the amber liquid.

    Raising the glass, to smell the aroma of liquid. The large nostrils of the Whiphid flaring and taking it in. Taking a long draw of the drink, savoring it as he puts the glass back down empty. T'Tkura was not oppose to talking and answering the Sith's questions.

    'Pour first Sith, then talk.'

    T'Tkura offered a long smile to the Sith, for a moment maybe they could forget about many a thing and just enjoy a drink.

    Anark ignored the rest of the Jedi after their second drink. The third and fourth were solely between he and T'Tkura.

    The Sith was reclined fully in the somewhat uncomfortable flight chair, clutching the bottle by the neck and his glass in a loosened grip.

    "I've often wondered what the first ever Sith looked like," he mused, staring absently over T'Tkura's head, "what his weapon of choice was, how he felt... how he discovered the Force."

    He jerked forward abruptly and poured a fifth helping between them, his eyes wandering as the Corellian potency kicked in.

    "There must have been a first Jedi too."

    He fixed his gaze on the Jedi, biting his bottom lip and staring deep into the Whiphid's eyes.

    "Sometimes we think about the ancient ones when we lie in our chamber at night."

    The dozen or so distinct voices in his head were alive with wonder and exhilaration at the thought. Anark began to unintentionally let out tiny sprays of saliva as he slurred.

    "Sometimes we try to search for them but we can never find them in the sprawling fields of the Force."

    He reached out with long gnarled fingers and clutched the arms of T'Tkura's chair.

    "Who do you suppose will remember us, Jedi? What will they say? or will our names... will the Jedi and the Sith themselves become more myth than memory?"

    Anark jolted up as a ping sounded from the cockpit. He rushed through, dropping the bottle onto the floor where it smashes into a thousand pieces, leaving amber to trickle between the cracks in the shuttles floor tiles.

    "I think we're here!" he hollered from the cockpit...

    T’Tkura took the last long smooth swig of the Smokey-brown liquid, savoring another sip. His large eyes closing for a moment and taking in a last moment of rest as he could sense things would soon be changing. The Sith’s inquiry about his own origins, was surprising…
    ‘The first Sith was a fallen Jedi. We are borne from the same cloth, you and I. Bound to the same master. The Force.’
    A last sip and the glass was empty. ‘Though I am sure you are not in for a lecture…’

    The Sith was asking many a reaching question, philosophical suppositions about a great many things. Even as the Sith cam dangerously close, T’Tkura knew he was no threat at the moment as his excited commentary and broader questions of origins and what was to soon be… were harmless… merely passing time, and the result of a much-needed drink, rather several, that they had enjoyed.

    ‘If you are searching for your ancestors, and those that came before us, you only need to look at what is in front of you.’T’Tkura was a it amused at his own skill at ‘Jedi’ speak.

    Who will remember them? Was there anyone in this galaxy left? The thought permeated T’Tkura’s mind again. Still blind to all that was going on. No too long ago, even with the Sith Empire emerging and showing its teeth, there had still been a strong cadre of Jedi, and even Imperial Knights protecting the inner core of the galaxy. Now? Who knew… play the game right? Was this motley group traveling on a ‘Sith’ shuttle … the Last of the Jedi?


    No. He could still feel the force flowing. Turbulent. Disturbed. Teetering on unbalanced. But there had to be more. With that he heard the chime from the cockpit and the proximity alert of their destination. T’Tkura came forward to the archway of the cockpit, eyeing the Jawa in one of the pilot seats and staring out at the stars cape of fast moving stars in hyperspace. Preparing to exit.


    TAG: Nobody
     
  23. WookieeRage

    WookieeRage Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Feb 3, 2016
    IC: Darth Ravenous & a girl

    Temple, New Moraband; Dungeon
    A time before the mutiny aboard the Obelisk.

    The temple was quiet as a lone torch burned in the depths of the dungeon accompanied by a grotesque silhouette. It stood before a torture station that was but ropes that held it's captive to a hanging of the arms; stretched to the point of agony. The prisoner constrained; but a human girl. Her hair was crimson red, her face matched the hue as well. She was conscious but exhausted and thoroughly worked over.

    "Still you say nothing girl?... Nothing of my missing freighter? Or of the credits that resided in its walls? Surely you must know something?!."

    An eerie laugh bellowed out from the figure, now lurched over the table which displayed the various torture devices. The light from the lone torch illuminated his face as he looked up at the girl, splayed out before him. This girl, an elite soldier turned rogue by the name Astra.

    It was Darth Ravenous. He righted his stance and began a slow walk towards her. As he approached, the once-wookiee extended his now hairless arm and grasped Astra's jaw. Now, more maniacally as he tightened the grip to begin another round of torture he grittingly insisted,

    "I want my Credits... I Want.. My Ship... Tell Me What You Did With Them..."

    The girl fought back against The grasp and spat in Ravenous' face.

    I Will Break You... Girl.

    Tag: NOBODY...
     
  24. Isley_27

    Isley_27 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Dec 22, 2016
    (A Super Combo with Lady Belligerent, QueenSabe7, WookieeeRage, Snokers, and Isley_27)
    IC: Zalen, Leda, Astra, Bo, Alva
    The Luxury Elite Guest Room Hallways


    Zalen exited the lift and checked her appearance in a large mirror that faced the lift bank. She narrowed her eyes and checked her disguise. For future work she would definitely stick with hair color and wigs because headtails were heavy.

    She could hear the soft sound of wheels from the corridor to her immediate right, so she took a deep breath and turned the corner to stride towards Alva. Zalen smiled softly at him before she glancing at a draped table he was moving. “What do we have here?” She asked Alva, “is this the room service I ordered?”

    The woman instantly appeared to Alva's right side, inquiring what she believed to have been room service. He had never seen this woman, this twi'lek, before. Probably would have dismissed her as a lavished guest. However it was a rather odd coincidence, he had just left a secret meeting with a couple of bounty hunters and they just employed him to quickly dispose of some Emperor imposter. Now someone had just singled him out of the blue from seemingly nowhere? "Sure is darlin'," Derin winked at the woman. "Although I must have blasted forgotten where your room is. First time on the job ya know, and this place is a dang maze. Would you be so kind and remind me your suite room number? I wanna have your meal delivered hot and fresh!"

    Leda was sauntering down the hotel hallway, appearing casual but internally she was quite the opposite. Adjusting the heavy montrals atop her head, she was on alert for her team members. Zalen had directed them all to meet in this vicinity, arriving individually, and seek out their target; Alva. She didn’t know this man by looks alone, but based on the intel she’d received, she knew him when she saw him - straight ahead, wheeling a large cart that was draped suspiciously with a telltale covering. She raised a brow and smirked, immediately curious as to what the young Sith was up to.

    Picking up her pace, she then spotted a familiar blue-skinned twi’lek female as she popped out of the lift on the far side of Alva. The faux-alien wasted no time engaging him, leaving Leda an invitation to intrude which she gladly accepted.

    “A hot meal, you say?” she chimed in once she reached the pair, unabashedly sidling up to Zalen. “What are the chances? I’m absolutely famished!” Without giving either Sith a moment to react, Leda shot a hand out and pulled up a corner of the sheet, absolutely not prepared for what her yellow-green eyes would see.

    Astra was beginning to look disheveled as she shadowed Leda through the halls of the ship and her trip on spice seemed to be coming to an end, the paranoia however, would not. Why am I here? I could just leave here and Master Ravenous would never even know... Yeah... go to the unknown regions...

    She snapped out of her daydream when she noticed Leda approaching a couple pushing a cart of sorts. Astra looked around frantically for a way to get closer while still remaining unseen. Her eyes traced the wall upwards to a vent covering just big enough to fit her petite frame through. Even better was that the vent was in an obstructed corner, not visible to the crowd.

    She slipped into the corner and silently ran up the wall high enough to grasp the covering before slipping it off and sealing it behind her. Once inside she crawled through the vents towards Leda's position to observe the confrontation. She made sure to use her meager force ability to mask her presence through the Force; a technique 'taught' to her by Master Ravenous no less. Her physical infiltration ability was of no question, she was a Nexu among sheep. Astra pulled her 10 inch serrated Bowie Knife from her left calf-high boot to her teeth and continued until she was directly above them. She peered through the vent, concentrating on the two newcomers. She noticed the Woman, Darth Zalen from Master Ravenous stories and vigorous tortures to turn make her more like the Sith Lady; Ravenous always said she had the nicest hands he was ever fed body parts from.

    Bo walked at a brisk pace, having to move at a sort of quarter-jog to fall in line with his associates. When he caught up he asked no questions of what was inside the cart. It was a lesson he'd learned long ago during his years with Naboo's most corrupt businessmen - sometimes it's better to just remain ignorant - especially when there's probably a dead body and a tight schedule involved.

    He offered a slightly forced smile to Leda and tapped lightly on the blaster concealed beneath his tunic, waiting for something bad to happen.

    In a blink Leda had ripped off the covering of the cart and saw the dead body of the Emperor.

    She shrieked. The Emperor?! Impossibly, she found herself staring at the unmistakable, well-known visage of Insipid, lying on a cold slab as if he was...dead.

    “What in the kriffing KRIFF is this?”she spat hoarsely, her mouth instantly dry as she was consumed by shock. If her skin weren’t already painted a paler shade than her natural tone, it would have been noticeable as the color drained from her face.

    What in seven hells?Zalen heard Leda’s curses before she saw the body...the body of THE EMPEROR. The Dawn Herald must be alerted quickly.

    But first.

    Zalen’s lightsaber was suddenly in her palm and ignited. “ Explain to me why you are in possession of The Emperor’s body,” she demanded of Alva.

    Determined to make a bad situation worse, Alva’s ISIB-issued wristwatch picked that exact moment to crackle to life.

    "Landed, the eagle has. Repeat I do, landed the eagle has,” the familiar voice of Darth Kralkus sounded, loud enough for the others to hear. “At the meeting point, regroup!”

    Leda regained her composure, ripping her eyes away from the body before her and shifting her focus to Alva as Zalen spoke. She could feel the rush of blood in her ears, a surge of anger flooding in over her senses that only increased as a saber ignited next to her. She barely heard the voice bark out an odd set of instructions from the young Sith’s comm, she was too bewildered to understand anything beyond what she was seeing.

    Alva eyes narrowed into a scowl. Removing any trace of the false demeanor that was Derin Kato. This was suppose to be a discreet mission. It was suppose to go smoothly in hiding this poser from sight and avoiding the others. Had he have known all of this was going to happen, Alva would have given this part of the job to Kralkus and he extract the data from Fett's room. Now he was outnumbered and surrounded, and to top it all off, his device had gone off at such a terrible time. The whole situation was beginning to get on Alva's nerves. 'I'm done with this ridiculious show' he thought to himself.

    Clenching his fist, he turned to woman armed with the saber, the possible leader. "You may want to check your facts...because it's your problem now." He raised his arms as if he were about to surrender, yet he began to subtly call upon the dark side. As he slowly opened his palms, a ball-shaped metallic orb materialized from out of his sleeve and into his left hand, a sonic detonator! Then, with the aid of the force to quicken his reflexes, he squeezed the orb and dropped it to the floor. After which he quickly took several step backwards, about three meters, and got down low to the floor. He crossed his arms over his face and cocooned himself with a barrier.

    Simultaneously, the orb he had dropped rolled slightly toward the small group before opening at the center. It chirped the moment Alva had dashed clear - one chirp....two chirps....three chirps - each beeping at a rapid pace from the last, until-

    The corridors and hallways had been rather quiet, aside from the chatter of passing guest and the knocking and opening of room doors. However all of that had quickly changed. An ear shattering squeal of nearly lethal decibels rang out from within a thirty meter radius of the detonator. Guests unfortunate enough to have been caught in that vicinity fell to the floor, wrenching about in pain trying shield their ears from the bombarding, unbearable noise.

    It was the distraction Alva would use to escape. After only a few moments, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. Still protected by the force from the detonator, Alva didn't even bother to look back to see if the new company he attracted had been affected or not. As he turned a corner he remembered the statement Kralkus had said over the device, The eagle has landed, regroup.

    Bo was at Leda's side, Astra was, well… somewhere. She didn’t acknowledge them, sneering as she watched their target appear to surrender, but she knew it was only for show. He’s avoiding, she realized, swiftly reaching for her own weapon holstered beneath her skirt. Just as she was about to press the activation button on the saber hilt and get to the bottom of this absurdly confusing situation, Leda felt a ripple in the Force; an alert that something was… off. It was in that moment that Alva dared to produce a fragging sonic detonator, dropping it at his fellow Sith’s feet and attempting to flee.

    She whipped around to face Zalen but did not wait for instructions. Instead she stepped over and with a powerful kick, sent the chirping orb sailing down the opposite end of the hallway, away from all of them. She dropped down and hastily threw up a Force barrier just as the device went off, pushing out as much as her abilities would allow, hoping to offer some sort of protection to the others that were close by… but knowing that unless they added aid themselves, it wouldn’t be enough.

    Throwing her head up and glaring at Alva’s retreating form, she held onto the Force and sprung up. She wasted not a second more and ran off in chase, never once allowing him to leave her sight.

    Wherever he was ‘regrouping’, she would be right on his heels.

    Bo was contributing as much as he could to the barrier produced by Leda, it was quite a task for one whose relationship with the Force was still so young. He could feel the drain inside him until he couldn't hold it any longer. He let go and fell to his knees. Thankfully, the worst effects of the sonic imploder had passed. Craning his neck around, he saw beings of dozens of different species rolling on the floor, clutching their ears and heads in agony. Among them his eyes were drawn to a luxury elite security agent in full, stuffy uniform.

    The man was eyeing Bo and Leda with alarm clear on his face. Security were going to think it was them who had detonated the bomb. Bo saw him reach in his holster for his weapon - or maybe just a comm to radio for assistance - Bo wasn't willing to take that chance though, as Leda ran off in pursuit of Alva, Bo caught a glimpse of his missing peer Astra, bursting fourth from a ventilation shaft to join in the attack. Bo whipped out his own DT-29 and fired a perfect shot right at the guards forehead, he hit the floor hard, a smoking ember between his eyes. Bo then got shakily to his feet and sprinted to catch up with the others.
     
  25. Isley_27

    Isley_27 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Dec 22, 2016
    (Super Combo Continued)

    Did Haretisch have Alva kill the Emperor??

    Zalen knew this was bad, but she had to get control of things because she’d basically been left standing next to the dead Emperor. She quickly replaced her weapon and grabbed the cloth to conceal the body again, but she couldn’t move her eyes from the corpse beneath. Stang!

    Bellorum would have their heads if they were caught by authorities with Insipid, but what in the seven hells could they do with it?

    ’Leda!’ Zalen sent a silent warning as she reached out and yanked the woman, mid leap, back to her side. Her pull was awkward due to the chaos in the corridor, “so much for keeping this low key,” Zalen muttered as she steadied Leda, who had landed almost on top of her.

    “Search the ship’s reservation system and find the biggest and most elaborate suite,” Zalen instructed as she pushed the cart in the same direction Alva had sprinted. “We need a good place to stash a body,” her words trailed off and she hurried.

    The corridor forked and Zalen checked room numbers as she swiftly took a right turn. “Scramble all security cams you see, we don’t want to draw anyone’s attention from security.” Several meters down she expected a locked door that would take them into a housekeeping area and a staff lift. “Leda, use a code for that door and we’ll take the employee routes,” then she clicked her comm and directed the other Sith. “Clear any employees that see us. Use a disposal chute or incinerator, I’ve no preference other than we not be reported.”

    “It seems likely the LE will need to hire more maids soon,” Zalen said to Leda with a sigh.

    The Sith-Spawn's prospect peered through the vent directly above the confrontation continuing to scheme as she saw the explosive thrown. Astra immediately leapt forward within the air duct; rolling before an expletive as the explosive triggered. She was thrown even more forward than her original expectations and burst through another air duct much forward... err, right on top of Alva's path. As she burst through, Astra pulled the large serrated blade from her left leg holster, and an Assassin slug thrower pistol from her right. Ravenous' prospect aimed a swiped as she landed at Alva's Achilles tendon and opened fire with the blaster, aiming for his face.

    I've got to lose them, I can't have them follow me! That sentence had been playing out in Alva's mind over and over as he came to a jointed corner. Had it not been for the adrenaline and The Force driving his senses to a hyper-aware state, the woman practically jumping from the vents would have slammed on top of him. He skidded to a halt as the assailant landed right in front, cutting off his route.

    She had been armed with a knife, intended to cripple him, and a blaster pistol. But there was something else, she didn't appear to be a Sith or Jedi as he suspected the others were, yet at the same time, she had to have been more than just an average assassin to have moved with such speed. The only answer was that she had a connection to The Force and had been trained in its ways, that was evident by her ability to conceal her presence. Which would explain how she was able to get here without Alva detecting her prencense. Quick on the draw, she had opened fire with a deadly accurate shot to Alva's face. He probably had no more than a second to counter.

    In that moment, there was a sound of hissing energy and the red glow of two blades. Alva had drawn and ignited his double bladed lightsaber. Rolling his wrist, the conjoined blades twirled in rapid sucession to bat the shot away. It veered to the left and stroke the side, creating a smoking charred hole in the wall. Now to deal with this woman, or that's what he would have wanted to do if she hadn't had back-up. Determined not to be ganged up on, Alva had to deal with this situation here rather soon. However, he knew well that a skill assassin, especially one guided by The Force, would not be cut down so easily. He would have to cause another, more hands on distraction to draw her attention away. Thankfully, that distraction was about to present itself.

    As if The Force had willed it, the room door immediately behind the assassin's right began to open just ever so slightly. One of the guests, a hefty Ithorian, had been startled by the noise just outside his room and cautiously peered through the opening to investigate. His curved head caught Alva's gaze, yet he never broke eye contact with the woman. He spun his blades again to make it appear he was about the strike out. Yet inwardly, he reached out to touch the mind of the weak-minded hammerhead. The Force swept over his will, pushing out all other thoughts so that only one remained, ATTACK THE WOMAN IN FRONT OF ME!

    The door violently flung open and the Ithorian onlooker charged forward, like he had been beckoned out of his hiding place. Shouting in some deep indistinguishable dialect, the large being attempted to grab her from behind and seize hold of the weapons. Alva reacted and darted in the opposite direction, getting away once more.

    He ran with his lightsaber still in hand and ignited, both blades humming their dangerous song. With a good chop and swing, Alva would be ready to slice down anyone, man or woman, stupid enough to block his path to try and stop him by choice or even accident. Wisely most had quickly step away to the side upon catching sight of the signature weapon. A couple sitting at a ledged balcony dropped to the floor when they saw a man barreling towards them. Alva leapt up and over the ledge, falling to the mezzanine public shopping area. Augmented by the The Force, he landed relatively gracefully and tumbled forward to his feet. Extinguishing the blades, he ran for the sea of bodies indulging themselves into emptying their wallets and purses in the shopping area. Disappearing into the crowds.

    Mere seconds after Leda had taken off after that traitorous Alva, she was halted in her tracks and yanked backwards, landing roughly on the ground beside Zalen. “What the kriff?” she shouted unceremoniously, jumping back to her feet and rubbing her back, her mock-montrals knocked askew. She had half a mind to simply remove them and run them through with her still-ignited saber. “We need to stop-“

    Her plea was cut off as the fake twi-lek next to her gave her a set of instructions that she could not refuse to obey, chain of command and all that. Distinguishing her saber and returning it to her thigh holster with an impatient huff, she pulled a datapad from a small satchel at her waist. The warrior immediately set to work as she trailed her fellow Sith and the…. body of Insipid. The mere thought of it caused bile to rise in her throat which she choked back with a rough cough. She still couldn’t believe this to be true. Who would be powerful enough to best the Emperor and what would they have to gain? Alva was involved, yes, but it was beyond obvious he had not done the deed himself. No… one person in particular popped into her mind and she knew exactly who needed to be alerted and fast.

    Always better when completing tasks under pressure, it wasn’t long before she had successfully deactivated the security cams on their current floor and as they neared a housekeeping door at the end of the corridor, it slid open with a hiss as she forced electronic entry.

    “I’ve reprogrammed the Grand Admiral Suite on level 6 under a false name and also changed the key code entry so that only we may gain access,” Leda hurriedly informed Zalen before leaning in closer as they funneled into the employee hallway. “I will inform the Dawn Herald of recent developments straight away.”

    Deft fingers typed out an encrypted message to the female triumvir, also being sure to make her personal suspicions clear:

    My Lady Bellorum - Our Emperor has fallen, Insipid is dead. And I believe it could be by the hand of none other than the Night Herald himself, Lord Haretisch.


    ATTACK THE WOMAN IN FRONT OF ME!"

    The plea was humorous as Astra followed Alva's retreat with her slug pistol; the rounds sequentially but narrowly missing behind his path. She was met with a tackle from an Ithorian. If only she knew the ways of the force instead of what Darth Ravenous wanted her to know would she truly be free from his reign. She only knew what she had to to survive.

    The tackle from the Ithorian brought her upon her back, with the hammerhead mounting her in the martial arts sense of it. Two punches landed before the third was caught with a grasp. Astra pulled her thighs together and extended the Ithorian's grasped arm backwards snapping it instantly. He moaned in pain as he reached with his other arm to her throat.

    Too late...

    Her Bowie-styled fibro-knife was through his throat and protruded through his left eye appendage. Throwing him off of her and rising, now blood-soaked Astra addressed Leda across the hall to a now 'semi-relaxed' surrounding.

    "Your orders, Mi'Lady?"

    “Astara, Bo! Disengage and follow. We need a clear path,” Zalen’s voice was a hoarse whisper of their private and encrypted channel, “Leda is searching for where we can drop this package.”

    Bo's tunic had been torn somewhere in the skirmish. He gulped back his fury and loaded another battery into his blaster. When he looked up from his weapon two armed guards and a startled looking woman in a maid's uniform stood before him.

    "Ah!" was what escaped in a panicked breath as he quickly shoved the ammunition in and gave the chamber a hard spin. The guards trained their rifles on him. Bo's fight or flight mode kicked in and he dropped to the floor, making himself tiny then rolling and lunching between one of the guards legs. He stood and fired a shot into the back of the man's helmet. He collapsed in a heap on the floor. Bo had little time to react as the second guard pivoted around to face him. Bo grabbed hold of the poor made and utilized her as a human shield - he felt a deep sense of regret and sympathy for the poor woman who had clearly been in the wrong place at the wrong time - but needs must.

    The woman's body jerked and thrashed as she was peppered with several blaster bolts. Bo aimed his DT-29 over her shoulder and fired four blind shots that missed his target before a fifth flew through the grunting guards shoulder blade. He cast the woman's lifeless body aside with a grimace and kicked the now kneeling guard hard upwards at the chin, knocking him out.

    "Where in the hell burning stars am I supposed to be?" he muttered as he began to reload his blaster and hurry down the corridor to meet with his team...


    ~~~


    The instant the service lift doors opened, Zalen shoved the draped cart inside. She sidestepped and pressed her back to the rear wall as everyone else crammed in around her.

    After taking a moment to slow her breathing, she lifted the corner of the cover and started into the unseeing eyes of the Emperor. There wasn’t time to examine the body here and now...or later for that matter. They couldn’t be found in possession of the Emperor.

    She glanced to the display showing the floor numbers as the lift rose. The others had been silently checking their weapons and making adjustments. “Well,” Zalen spoke up to break the silence. “This certainly was unexpected.”

    The lift was slowing before she spoke again, “Alva is one of Haretisch’s minions...and they’ve bloody assassinated the Emperor.” She knew she sounded crazed, but stating that obvious seemed to help her work through the situation.

    “Okay. We’ve got this,” Zalen muttered and pushed the cart into the housekeeping corridor. She had let Leda take lead and the others were spread out and they sped through the ornate double doors and into the guest area. No one needed instructions as they ran. Hands rose towards security cams and weapons were at the ready.

    Ahead she saw Leda pull out a card and press a code into a door panel, and she was holding it open the moment Zalen caught up. They guided the cart into the entry of the suite and waited for Bo and Astara. Leda sealed the door and bolted it from inside once they ran in.

    Zalen pulled latex gloves from her pocket and passed them around. She pulled a pair over her own leather gloves before she took the cloth off the cart and moved the body. “Leave no evidence,” she told them as she levitated the body and walked slowly towards the master bedroom.

    The Grand Admiral suite was in fact quite grand, both in size and luxury. After a quick search they located the bedroom. Zalen yanked a duvet from the bed and spread it on the floor before lowering the body to rest on it.

    “There should be a pair of guest pajamas and bath robe in there,” Zalen pointed towards the dressing room. “Someone grab those so we can dress him.” Leda rushed off to retrieve the She looked around for a moment and then made a decision, “Bo, get his trousers off. Astara, undo his belt and help Bo.” Zalen busied herself with pouring a drink from the bar and setting it beside the bed, and turning on some soft music. She grabbed the discarded clothing as it was piled beside the body, and passed Leda as she was returning with crimson silk pajamas and a black robe.

    Zalen tossed the clothing into a laundry hamper and disturbed a stack of towels. She hoped it would look as if the Emperor had spent a relaxing evening in his suite.

    Returning to the bedroom, she found the Emperor dressed and placed on the pillows of his bed. They tucked him in and dimmed the lighting.

    “Bellorum will be expecting us for the meeting soon, so let’s get out of here and back to our quarters.” Zalen stopped back in the entry of the suite before she spoke again. “I don’t know what happened...what I do know is we didn’t see anything.” With that she opened the door and practically disappeared into the festive atmosphere of the Luxury Elite.

    Tags Lady Belligerent Darth_wanderguard QueenSabe7 WookieeRage Snokers