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Star Wars Dark Reach: Episode I - An Order Remade

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Lady Belligerent , Jul 1, 2019.

  1. HanSolo29

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

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    Combo with Lady Belligerent – it's always a pleasure! :D

    IC: Aryan Graul, Lorna, and Agent Verl
    Last Resort Lounge, Nar Shaddaa

    Lorna slowly stroked Aryan’s arm, “easy there, honey,” she practically cooed to him as she slid over a menu. “Are you hungry? The food here is usually safe to eat,” Lorna placed the menu on the table in front of Graul.

    “There’s another menu, of course,” she caressed his arm and slid her hand down to lace her fingers with him, “but you wanted some whiskey, and I thought food might be a good idea first since you’re looking a little shaky.”

    Before Graul would be able to answer, there was a piercing whistle and a large uniformed group stampeded through the entrance.

    The leader wore a helmet and held a clear shield in front of himself. He kept bellowing, “everyone on the floor, hands behind the back!!”

    The men rushing in all wore uniforms with ‘Endangered Wildlife Protection Team’ emblazoned on the back of their jackets, and ‘EWPT’, on the pockets.

    The sudden commotion served as the catalyst that played directly into Aryan’s anxiety and brought out his destructive behavior. It began with the high-pitched whine of the whistle, which penetrated deep within the recesses of his mind, inhibiting both his perception and his sense of self. He could no longer concentrate, and he became thoroughly confused as the haze descended on him like a heavy, mental fog.

    As a result, he began to murmur incoherently in an effort to understand what was happening around him. He noticeably flinched at the men shouting at him, but he could not make out their words...much less comprehend what they expected him to do. It was one tumultuous roar that echoed relentlessly inside his head. His extreme fatigue only exacerbated this debilitating condition, causing his frustration to build until it finally culminated in a violent temper tantrum.

    With a menacing growl, Aryan jerked his hand away from Lenora’s grip and swung blindly to push her away. “Krif...kuf--stu--er, kriff…bitch!” He followed this initial outburst with a lengthy barrage of expletives and verbal insults that reached its climax when he tossed the menu across the table and made an attempt to rise from the booth.

    In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to escape the noise, the pain, and the overwhelming pressure that had consumed him. It was a very basic instinct, almost feral in nature...and it spurred the kind of desperation that made him dangerous.

    “Muh...uh, I...ah--way, umm...I...go,” he muttered breathlessly, his left hand curling around his cane as he staggered precariously to feet, his thighs pressed against the edge of the table for support. It was at this point that he tried to propel himself forward to break free.

    “Whoaaaa there buddy,” the leader barked at Aryan before turning to one of the uniformed men behind him, “this one doesn’t follow orders, handle him.”

    Eager to please his superior, the man removed a small canister from his belt, and the rest of the team clearly knew what was happening so they were attaching breathing masks. The EWPT agent pressed something on the canister and tossed it towards Aryan and Lorna.

    “Noooo,” Lorna gasped and dove under the table to rethink her life since she was sure it was a detonator and they were about to be blown to bits.

    Instead the canister landed and dark green clouds billowed out to fill the air. Lorna was closest and being on the floor, she’d inhaled a mouth full when she gasped. She collapsed onto the sticky floor sure that this was the end.

    Despite making it to the end of the booth with relative ease, Aryan still wavered as if he was on the verge of collapse. The chaos unfolding around him was simply too much for his mind to process; in addition to the cacophony that continued to rage inside his head, he remained preoccupied by the sudden impulse to escape. As such, he failed to notice the officer casting the gas canister in their direction until it was far too late.

    The pop of the detonation elicited another round of obscenities from his lips, and he instinctively lurched forward out of both surprise and fear. Unfortunately, this reaction also brought him directly into Lenora’s path as she dove to take cover under the table. His ailing right leg snagged on her foot, causing him to falter as he passed. At this point, there was no avoiding the inevitable, especially with his balance already compromised.

    With his cane slipping from his grip, Aryan momentarily got hung up on the edge of the table, which prompted an agonizing scream, before he tumbled unceremoniously to the floor with limbs flailing. He landed on his right side and flopped with his cheek coming to rest against the filthy tiles.

    From here, it didn’t take long for the noxious fumes to reach his position. Aryan immediately dissolved into a violent coughing fit as the gas filled his lungs and infiltrated his senses. But as the darkness began to crawl along the edges of his vision, he did not fight it; he was too tired to care. He simply closed his eyes and surrendered himself to oblivion.

    “That’s much better,” the lead agent commented once the gas has dissipated and he’d removed his mask. He’d nudged Aryan’s leg with the toe of his boot and was satisfied that he had all the occupants of the establishment rendered incapacitated.

    “Drag the one behind the bar out here,” he ordered, “I’m certain he’s the manager and is responsible for procuring the illegal game he’s been serving.” He sat at a table and ate the food of someone who had managed to escape when the raid first began. “Cuff him,” he ordered and pointed at the manager with a fried veg strip that was dipped in a dark green sauce. “The only meat he will be preparing for awhile will be from the prison rats,” he laughed and spewed bits of veg and sauce as the agent was amused by his own joke.

    Once the team moved the unconscious beings to lay in the center of the dining room, the leader wiped his chin and stood to inspect them. He asked one of the other agents how much longer before they started waking up and the man checked his chrono, “should be anytime now, the gas was a very mild one with only short term effects.”

    The leader looked irritated and ordered them to get some containers of ice water to douse them with, “we don’t have all day to wait on them to come around.”

    Two men dutifully went behind the bar and came out with large pitchers of water that they splashed on the faces of those who were unfortunate enough to have chosen the wrong place to be.

    The jarring cold water worked well, and soon almost everyone was blinking and grumbling.

    “Attention!” The leader shouted, “you are being held until we clear you. This is an official raid of the Endangered Wildlife Protection Team.” The agent seemed to take pleasure in shouting and tended to spit as he spoke. “If you ordered and consumed any meat product you are hereby ordered to raise your hand now and surrender to arrest.”

    Aryan was sitting with his hands over his ears and his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hair, beard, and face still dripping wet from the agents’ attempts to rouse him from his unconscious state. He had bolted upright and issued an involuntary scream at the initial shock of the frigid water upon his flesh, but had quickly quieted down when the fear and confusion set in.

    It was the unknown that unsettled him. Except for vague impressions and blurry faces that only seemed familiar on a superficial level – aside from the ones he saw on a daily basis – he could not recall much of what happened prior to waking in this strange place. There was the doctor leaving, an angry man attacking the caregiver, the whiskey...a woman...and--

    What else...?

    The door slammed shut, and Aryan now sat shivering in this vulnerable position, his eyes downcast as a gruff man rambled on about meat and arrest warrants. What did that even mean? He didn’t do anything wrong...at least he didn’t think he did. He only wanted to bring back a bottle of whiskey for Syren.

    This compounded his anxiety even more, and he began to moan softly as he forced his eyes shut in a vain attempt to make it all disappear.

    A burly man leaned down to offer Aryan a small towel, probably from the bar that Graul would be leaning against whilst sitting on the floor. “I’m agent Verl, can you give me your name, sir?”

    Even with his hands firmly in place to suppress the atmospheric noise of the room, Aryan visibly cringed at the man’s voice. His eyes snapped open and he looked up with obvious hesitation, but he soon relaxed when he noticed the towel in the stranger’s outstretched hand. He was still shivering, and the generous thought helped to put his mind at ease.

    Lowering his hands from his head, Aryan awkwardly snatched the towel with his left hand and proceeded to bury his face in the soft fabric. “I...don--er, I know, uh...wha…,” he stammered quietly, his voice muffled by the cloth. “Uhh...I--Arrr...um, Arr--iin...Aryan...Gra--uh, Gr-Graaa...Graul.”

    Verl eyed Aryan with concern, “are you okay, man?” He was typing into a datapad while asking and seemed satisfied with whatever he was reading. “No outstanding warrants or citations, and no criminal history, that helps.”

    Aryan inhaled deeply through his nose and tensed under the man’s gaze, the question prompting a nervous response that allowed the towel to slip from his fingers. This agent had clearly tapped into his insecurities, and it was beginning to show. “Muh...uh, I--” he winced and raised his hand to the side of his head, making a ‘clawed’ gesture. “Head...muh--er, my...head…” He closed his hand into a fist and held it tight. “...hurt. Bad...uh, in--umm, I--in...in-jerr...ee...in--hurt.”

    Inclining his chin, Aryan lowered his hand back to his lap and scowled at the man. “No...I--uh, not...I...no, err--fine.”

    Agent Verl could see something was very wrong, he asked Aryan to wait and went to the Agent in charge. “Sir, this guy must be an outlander, he has no records showing in the database,” Verl advised, “so, no criminal activities. Also, he is injured,” the last bit was empathized to the gas trigger happy leader, “I advise we get him on his way and lay low on this. We have the manager on several charges,” he paused for effect again in hopes they could wrap this case up quickly, “we will have an easy conviction, not only for him serving endangered species, but people get really uppity when they find out they were served Ewok or Wookiee flesh instead of nerf steak.”

    Verl glanced back at Aryan, “we need to send this guy on his way before any attorneys start sniffing around. The boss will kill us if we get charges against us again.”

    Narrowing his eyes, Aryan watched the exchange between the two officers, slowly leaning forward in an attempt to hear and understand what they were saying. He knew it was about him, and that unnerved him a great deal. He was fidgeting with the damp towel in his lap, and his right hand once again began to curl toward his chest in a spastic way. All he wanted was to get away from this place…

    And then it happened; he overheard them discussing his release. Aryan unleashed a heavy sigh and pushed away from the bar, his mind already set on pursuing that one simple goal and seeing it through to its conclusion; it consumed him.

    And as a result...he began to ramble.

    “That...uh, I...um--whisk--uh, vin..vint-age...wha--no, uh...whiskey,” he called out excitedly, his left hand gesturing along to emphasize his words. “Tee...Teer--er, Tev...Tevraki...Whisk--Whiskey...buy, uh...I...buy...Syren...love, uh...best. Back...umm...tha--that...ship...tired.” He winced and reached up to knead his forehead. “Doc--erm...Doc--tor...Jeps...rest...uh, I--res--sleep...whiskey...and, uh...I...back...ship, uh...with...Syren. Now...umm, now...whisk, uh...here?”

    “Uh...get him what he needs. Booze, a ride, whatever.” The lead agent stammered to Verl, who walked away hoping the moron thinks twice before gassing beings in the future.

    Verl went behind the bar and dug through a cabinet of bottles before he found what he thought Aryan was babbling about.

    “Here ya go, Graul,” Verl said as he handed the bottle to him, “a parting gift for your inconvenience.”

    Verl retrieved Aryan’s cane and walked him to the door. “You mentioned a ship,” Verl asked, “do you know where it is and I’ll get you a ride back there?”

    “I...um...I--err...I...don…,” Aryan replied uncomfortably, his brow creased in thought as he tried to recall any details that would help lead them back to the shuttle. It was an agonizing process, yet one name seemed to stick in his mind: “Mez--uh...Mez--enti, umm...Mezenti,” he sputtered with some difficulty. He wasn’t sure why or how he remembered it, but he would certainly take it at this point.

    Perhaps it was even a connection back to his life before the injury?

    Whatever the case, he didn’t have any context and he was hoping the agent could fill in the blanks for him.

    Turning back to the man, Aryan offered him a small nod of encouragement. He then clutched the whiskey bottle to his chest, almost as if it was a prized possession...and in some respects, it was. He considered it his link back to Syren. “Tha--uh, thank...you,” he muttered quietly, a faint smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

    “Excellent, sir,” Verl said, “we aren’t far from there at all, in fact I’ll get you a ride over there from one of our guys.”

    Agent Verl led Aryan to one of the waiting EWPT vehicles and directed the driver to deliver Aryan to the Mezenti Spaceport right away. “Safe travels,” Verl said as he helped him into the transport and closed the door.

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent
     
    Last edited: Aug 30, 2019
  2. Silvertough

    Silvertough Jedi Knight star 2

    Registered:
    Aug 19, 2018
    IC: Azeth Drost
    Grand Hall

    Drost gazed at the form of Soliloquy with open curiosity, specifically at the scroll its' attention was directed at. A floating quill scribbled a harsh script into the parchment, a language now long dead.

    Unabashedly, Drost peered over the written letter, committing each shape of the letters within to memory. Each letter sent an annoying pang throughout his mind. The shapes were familiar, yet remained frustratingly meaningless. Only a few words graced him with clarity: battle... sacrifice... fear... death... brutality...

    The sarcophagus! He had seen the very same script carved into the stone sarcophagus he had been forcibly entombed in! Drost's breathing quickened, his focus now entirely resting on the scroll in Soliloquy's possession. The living holocron's knowledge continues to impress.. What reason do you have to write in the dead language of the ancient Sith, I wonder..? He thought, making a mental note to pursue the topic further at a later date.

    "I will not require my seat. I shall exist behind you onboard." Soliloquy merely stated.

    Drost gave a half bow in response. "Much appreciated, my thanks."

    ----

    The Kamino Mission

    Drost took it upon himself to take up the rear of the other Sith departing for Kamino. He figured that since he wasn't technically assigned, he should at least do his best to stay out of the way of the ones that were. That being said, it was also true that no one had told him not not tag along as well, which may ultimately be a boon to his overall goal of acquiring the secrets of the galaxy.

    He technically wouldn't be held to the same level of accountability if the mission went south, as again, he wasn't technically supposed to be going in the first place. Drost openly grinned at that. Technicalities were always so fun to play with..

    All the while, he paid special attention to who the droid was assigning to slice into Kamino's cloning subsystems, that being Darth Cocytus and Lord Kronos. Drost recognized the latter of the two, having fought with him as a false protector earlier that day. The other though.. That one was a mystery. What manner of creature even *is* that..? With such a long neck, one would think using a lightsaber would be far too dangerous.. Interesting indeed.. He thought, discreetly activating a new listening device within his own robes, preparing it to be attached to a nearby ally.

    If he was to "assist" with the slicing, or more accurately, the downloading/copying of any and all files pertaining to cloning in their database, Drost figured he should plant the bug on one of those with another task.. or better yet..

    Drost turned his attention to Insipid's recently unveiled apprentice, the Keshiri Takaris Yur. I'm sure Insipid tells you all sorts of things.. doesn't he? A direct line to the Emperor would certainly bear more fruit than the distraction team... Yesss...

    Tags: @Mitth_Fisto , @Sinrebirth , @Darth Kronos , @Darth Cocytus
     
  3. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Darth Cocytus - Kamino

    Leaving the feast behind, having had the necessary filling of food and drink, the kaminoan followed the droid and his comrades to the yacht as silent as the grave, which was typical of him. Cocytus was one who preferred keeping his thoughts to himself and found it much more beneficial of doing so in this time of plots and betrayal. The only thing that could give a reading of his thoughts externally was the narrowing of his eyes or the slightest and smallest smirk of a smile, of which he made when the Sidious AI finally spoke to him within his mind.

    Perhaps they will get his master a body after all. I follow your command, Master…

    His attention returned to the droid, speaking in Insipid’s voice.Cocytus cared little for the Missions given by Insipid or the other higher ups since his sworn allegiance to Sidious. He only followed the missions to keep good impressions with the others and, if the occasion was right, bring about his own ambitions for the Sith Order, such as with this one.Collecting DNA of Lord Insipid. Perhaps that could be useful…. Just maybe…

    So what’s the plan, Master Sidious? Darth Cocytus asked his master casually.


    Tag: @Darth Kronos, @Mitth_Fisto, @Sinrebirth
     
  4. Moonspun Dragon

    Moonspun Dragon Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 6, 2011
    IC- Darth Arach/Isa

    Isa heard a man’s groan, and a woman murmur to herself. She instinctively curled a little tighter into herself. She didn’t know either of them.

    At the sound of her name, she shifted her head to peer one golden eye at the woman who looked familiar. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it and raised her head, looking upwards, feeling something watching her. By the others’ reactions, they felt it, too.

    ”Where are we?” she asked.

    ”Snoke has us,” the man said.

    Isa lowered her gaze and focused on the man. Snoke?

    At the mere thought of the name, Isa felt a slight twinge of panic. And of something else. A deep sense of anger and rage.

    And a strong desire of violence.

    Isa recoiled from these foreign emotions and from the darkness she felt inside of her. She quickly tried to suppress these emotions. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want this!

    The faintest of thoughts drifted through her head. Don’t you?

    Isa shook her head once, hard, dispelling the thought. That’s not who I am.

    She never heard a response as she felt them descend and the air turn hot.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth
     
  5. HanSolo29

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

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Arek Eross
    X-83 TwinTail Starfighter, Atravis Sector

    It didn’t take long for the situation to spiral out of control. As soon as Arek blasted free from the camp ship’s hangar, his sensor board began to light up with various targets swarming in and out of the immediate area. While it was tempting to engage the Yuuzhan Vong in this growing conflict, he knew that he didn’t have a choice; he wasn't exactly what many would consider a capable pilot. He only understood the basics, and that wouldn’t be sufficient to navigate a massive dogfight.

    Besides, he still considered himself the reason for the Vong’s presence here. If he could clear out of the system fast enough, perhaps that would give the refugees a fighting chance. At any rate, he may have identified the perfect opportunity in which to try – a Nune-class shuttle had recently entered the fray, drawing the main battle cruiser away from his current position. As it turned to encounter this new target, a wide path opened for Arek to flee.

    But with the Yuuzhan Vong involved, even something so simple as escape would prove difficult.

    A coralskipper soon converged on his location, sending his systems into a frenzy. The computer chimed several times in quick succession to inform him of its failure to calculate a safe hyperspace route out of the area. This elicited a curse from Arek’s lips and he pounded his fist into the console with frustration, almost as if he expected the blow to miraculously render results. The only thing he got in return was another chime to deliver more bad news – his shields were down.

    The little coral-based bastard had stripped his shields!

    But…how?

    In that moment, Arek instantly regretted not paying closer attention to his history lessons in primary school...or more accurately, he had not considered the information about the Yuuzhan Vong War relevant to the galaxy he grew up in. As such, he did not retain as much as he should have; just enough to pass the exams. In hindsight, that had been a very poor decision.

    Then again, who would have predicted that The End would come, and he would find himself in direct confrontation with the Vong? Beating himself up over it now would not help him; he needed answers and instant results.

    Inhaling deeply, Arek tried to remember anything that would assist him in this situation. The coralskipper had removed his shields and something was preventing him from entering lightspeed. It was all connected somehow; a gravity anomaly, or...

    Yes, that was it! Gravity. The Vong utilized their own gravitational fields as propulsion on their ships and to trap enemies in certain areas. He had even heard rumors of them pulling ships out of hyperspace. That would certainly explain his current dilemma. If he could track down and destroy the gravitational field holding his fighter here, then he could escape.

    And the only logical place to conceal such a device was on board that battle cruiser…

    Arek issued a light scoff and shook his head. How ironic that he would be engaging the Vong in combat, after all. It was a good thing that coralskipper was lagging behind; he may need the extra distance to make his run.

    Pushing forward on the control stick, Arek activated the thrusters and sent the TwinTail surging ahead with a great burst of speed. He made a point to keep the fighter in constant motion – left to right, up and down – to avoid falling into the coralskipper’s crosshairs. He could not afford to take any hits, especially with no shields to readily absorb them. One false move, and he would be nothing but floating detritus.

    That thought seemed to strengthen his resolve, and he clenched his teeth as the battle cruiser’s exposed aft section came into view. It was a nice, wide target...easy enough for someone with minimal piloting skills.

    But for someone also hailed as an expert marksman? How could he miss? Of course, mounted laser cannons on a starfighter weren’t exactly the same as a regular blaster rifle, but same basic principle...right?

    Issuing a heavy sigh, Arek cleared his mind and narrowed his eyes to focus on his target. Without looking down, he allowed his hands to glide smoothly over the controls, his thumb moving slowly to depress the trigger. A slight shudder shook the fighter as a constant barrage of blue lasers shot forth into space.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth; @NickLitYouAFlame
     
  6. Sinrebirth

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

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Darth Insipid the Greater
    Kesh, leaving

    His team was readied, and prepared. It didn’t take too long for them to collect themselves and the group to head to the ship that he had assigned them.

    An Imperial-era shuttle, it was as nondescript as stars were commonplace, and it would not raise too many concerns about its origin. As they progressed, Insipid did a briefing in the cockpit, indicating Manticore should take the pilot seat; their personal effects Keshiri slaves would transfer to their rooms, but Insipid’s Holocron was on display on the shuttle dashboard. “As we all know, Kuat Drive Yards was the key world for ship production, paired with Fondor. Between the two of them they account for a large amount of the construction the galaxy requires, whether private, government or military.” An image of the world appeared.

    “This remains so here, in this timeline. Kuat fell five months after the Battle of Endor, after being subject to a campaign led by Ackbar. This is rather than three years after Endor in our own time. Though we’ve been here over a year, the differences that led to the Battle of Jakku ending the war a year after Endor, rather than it dragging out for fifteen plus years after Endor, are not entirely clear.” Insipid eyed the other three. “Part of our wider task will be to investigate that.”

    “But first we need to make use of the remainder Twilight Sun funds we have access to, and the start of our fleet for the future. Kuat has not yet joined the New Republic wholeheartedly, so that gives us a gap where we can hide secret projects.” He flexed his hand, the display showing Kuat City instead. “It is tradition for Kuati to return to home to mate. It is also tradition to nominate a lower-classed individual as telbun, who will provide one half of the genetic make-up, and tutor the child.”

    Insipid shrugged. “It prevents in-breeding among the higher classes, and from children to being the subject of political messiness.” He smiled slightly. “So that will be our cover as we enter the planet.”

    “Usually it’s a female who has multiple telbun.” He gestured to Leda. “So you’re to be the matriarch...” another gesture to Manticore. “You the telbun, with your horns concealed in the traditional headscarf.” Another finger drifted to Bernael. “Bodyguard.” A flutter of his hand. “Of course a bodyguard can thus be expected to cover his face. The Anzati is thus hidden in plain sight.” He drifted his eyes to Bernael, and he expected the nonhuman would enjoy that.

    Finally he gestured at himself. “I’ll be the husband, though I’ll wear inserts on my eyes.” He shrugged. “It’s usual for the matriarch to marry an elder, more financially settled man, but pursue younger models for mating.” He squinted, and eyed Leda. “I mean, I’ll let you decide which of Manticore and I look younger.” A cracked smile on his bald visage. “I won’t be offended - but I’m not sure Bernael can pull it off...” A wry grin.

    “Though to the public, and the customs officer,” Insipid reminded her. “You’ll be in-charge. We’ll defer to you, in the presence of witnesses.”

    He let the statement hang in the air.

    TAG: @greyjedi125, @darthbernael, @QueenSabe7
    —-
    IC: Takaris Yur

    Kesh, shuttle

    Takaris Yur listened to Drost, still a bit awe-struck. The Protectors, and they had found the Power within him? He was to leave this world, as, what was it? The God-Emperor-Protectors secret apprentice. But he knew he could not humiliate his master by fawning. Mustering his reserves, the Keshiri simply sniffed, ignoring the blind-but-not-blind man, and moving on to the group he was to liaise with. Ostensibly Grand Vizier Bo was in-charge, but Lord Insipid had warned that he was a quiet, reticent sort, especially since his brother, Anark, had been lost in the latest battle with the Destructors at a place called Bedlam - a fight which had been said to destroy the world itself.

    As they boarded, and the ship rose up, all automated by the Gods magicks, Yur looked around for the others. Why there had to be a box of sweets and candies for just Lady Helinith, Yur did not understand, but he mentally deemed her the Goddess of Trickery, before he eyed the others. The wooden one, Lord Renn, Lord Insipid knew very little of, merely saying that 'he had dreamed of their arrival', and Yur understood the need to trick the Keshiri into accepting that Renn, Helinith and the other, vampiric one, Bernael, were Destructors - without such a push, they would never embrace their Gods in truth. The tree, he knew little of, but simply nodded deeming him, for now, the God of Shapes, for to be a tree and a humanoid was too intriguing not to define in such an ill-defined manner. The droid master to Helinith, Lord Serapis, seemed to be a complicated entity and Lord Insipid had spoken of his admiration for the late Ithorian - and had spent several weeks collecting what recordings it could of the man when alive to create a data program which would enable the speck of a soul to be compensated for - a very loose effort at a data-heart. In many ways, Serapis was a twin of himself, so Yur mentally called him the God of Opposites. Lord Bo, Yur knew, had opposed the God-Emperor-Protector recently - and so Yur decided he was the God of Shame, for he had to repent, and perhaps he represented all who needed to repent.

    The Keshiri liked that.

    He suddenly remembered what he was to do; provide a briefing of their mission.

    "Queen Mother Ni'Korish of Hapes," he started, managing to shape his mouth around the difficult-to-say Queen Mother's name, especially as he had never tried to say it aloud, "is a dictator who has re-taken the throne in direct opposition to her daughter Ta'a Chume. This is on the basis that the daughter has yet to produce a female heir. Her only legitimate heir is male, and secreted away. A matriarchal society, they will defer to Lady Helinith for the most part, and the God-Emperor-Protector, Lord Insipid, has made it clear that this should be used, and that," Yur referred back to the datapad reader that he had. "Lady Helinith is to behave."

    Yur handed the datapad to her, cringing somewhat. He was in awe of these deities from the stars - he was unable to oppose them, not even in his thoughts.

    TAG: @darthhelinith, @Snokers, @darthbernael
    ---
    IC: Trayus

    En route, aboard Kronos' yacht

    Soliloquy raised a query; the former Sentinel of the late Emperor knew not that he referred to Insipid's confession that he knew not how to perform Essence Transfer any longer; the fact that, unbeknownst to even Insipid, part of himself remained behind in the old Universe, and had split his power; that the Son's body had proven less malleable and more endless pit. As such the droid could only answer. "Yes, he does believe so. If the God-Emperor-Protector dies, we will bereft of a Dark Lord, and he has no named successor. The War of Three and the Rule of One, or Rule of Seven, will become the War of However Many Sith Want to Rule." The droid spoke with Insipid's words and indeed the recorded answer that Insipid had given; he was seemingly shutting down on his prior honesty, when nearly on the edge of defeat at Bedlam.

    The droid noted that the Miraluka, Drost, had joined them. There was not much else to add. It purely nodded to itself. "Kamino, a water world that Lord Cocytus knows well, for he too is Kaminoan." Trayus indicated with a metal hand. "Whether that will be a useful tool in our negotiations with the Prime Minister or not, Lord Insipid could not underestimate the respect that us sending a Kaminoan to negotiate would acquire. As such, in all public affairs, Lord Cocytus is our group spokesperson."

    "However, Lord Insipid is aware that Kamino may already be secretly in the pocket of Snoke, so we are to also infiltrate the world, break into their systems, and steal whatever data we can." It produced a data-slicer. "It was reasoned that you, Lord Kronos, and Lady Esmerelda, would wish to take that opportunity to break into the systems." It levitated the slicer over with a feat of magnetics.

    "Lord Soliloquy however will have command of the mission in the absence of myself, as the most experienced and most trusted Sith here, according to Lord Insipid and he will have sole access to the deposit funds that we have to hand as a down-payment for a clone army." There was an update, and Trayus looked to Drost. "I have instructions that you will be apprenticed to Lord Soliloquy in the interim, and should he consider you worthy, Lord Insipid has allowed for you to be permanently trained."

    A schematic of the yacht appeared. It assigned them berths, and paired Esme and Kronos together, while Drost was given a room with Soliloquy as his presence was not expected. Cocytus had a room to himself, and Trayus took the medbay and indeed piloting and mechanic roles, due to its ability to remotely interface with the yacht. "As we are required to travel to the edge of the Rishi Maze - the closest of the satellite galaxies - we have the longest trip to make. You may rest, copulate or formulate - whatever suits you best. I have been instructed not to interfere with your rites of passage."

    With that, the droid turned away, ending the briefing in the only way an AI could; with no formal ending whatsoever.

    Esme eyed Kronos, squeezing his hand and pulling him to their room. There was a double bed set up, but, on closer inspection, it was two single beds pushed together; the least comfortable way to have such a bed. Esme was tempted to separate the beds because of how she felt about intimacy, but she was terrified about pushing Cassian away too. The moment the door closed behind them, she pulled him close and forced herself to kiss him; she needed to recapture their connection. They had been separated more than they had been together - whether by her prior death, or by the pregnancy, or by the now forgotten War of Three. She needed Kronos in her life to breathe; she would overcome her issues.

    The Sidious AI spoke up, silently. Retire, Cocytus. This is the first time in many weeks that we have been given authority to break away. Tipoca City is your home; I am sure you know ways around the world, regardless of the timeline you originated from. It is here that I shall acquire myself a body and we shall enact the next steps of the Rule of Two; the creation of this clone army for me, not for your Lord Insipid.

    It paused. We must be wary of Soliloquy; it was or is a Holocron at the heart of it all - it will understand our schemes and ways. It is old, if not Old, the AI added, layering the word old. And Darth Insipid is not a fool. He does not trust you; nor Esmerelda; not even Soliloquy, who is more ancient and mysterious than anyone else seems to know.

    Insipid is setting you all up to fail so he can erase you... or claim that his goal all along was to merely weed out the traitors
    .

    TAG: @Darth Kronos (combo), @Darth Cocytus, @Soliloquy and @Silvertough (you two may combo if you wish, but add me to it)
    ---
    IC: Darth Insipid (Lesser)

    Skirmish by Mustafar; Atravis Sector; the Galaxy; Hell

    The lesser part and phantom body of Lord Insipid was debating such a weeding now. Whatever the staff had sent him to collect, or, rather, whomever, it felt, impossibly, like Aryan Graul. But Insipid knew not of Aryan ever being a Force user; he had a dim and distant memory of leaving some Force sensitivity behind, but Haretisch had consumed it and Skelm along with it.

    What could only be Not-Graul was heading towards them, and firing on the cruiser as it advanced on Insipid's shuttle, but he knew that his options were limited. He opened fire, but the cruiser caught the bolts and absorbed them and the shots that the Crossfire fired at the ships rear. They were in trouble, and the sensors showed a coralskipper also picking up speed; now it had re-tasked its dovin basil to propel and not just to consume Not-Graul's shields, it was going to catch up quickly -

    Insipid looked at Ventris, who seemed to be debating his choices even now. A shot from the cruiser grazed them, even as Insipid juked, and he snapped at Ventris. "You can ill-afford to phase out like this. Get in my Predator or take the controls of the shuttle. Nobody is going anywhere as long as that cruiser is alive." He prepared to send the controls to the console before Ventris, and launch for the shuttle himself.

    Time was not on their side.

    TAG: @HanSolo29, @NickLitYouAFlame
     
    Last edited: Sep 1, 2019
  7. Lady Belligerent

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

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    IC: Hel
    Nar Shadaa

    With the sweet shop incident settled, Hel and Xander were on the way to the apothecary for drugs. She kept a firm grip on his hand as they negotiated the crowds, but she’d had anagging feeling someone had taken notice of them and was following. It wasn’t a sense ofdanger, just of curiosity, and it made her very uncomfortable.

    “Xander!” Hel hissed and pulled him asideagainst a building facade, “What was that you were just doing?” The child had suddenly blazed his presence in the Force as if he was sending a beacon to someone.

    The child smiled and his eyes danced with mischief as he answered, “hide! Seek!” Hel sighed and gave him a stern look, “we aren’t playing a game, so do NOT do that again.”

    “Am!” The child insisted, “pway with funny lady.”

    Hel wasn’t sure who he meant, but this wasn’t the place to try and get into it with Xander. She touched his cheek and held his face in place so he would focus on her, “I need you to play a different game with me right now, okay?”

    Xander nodded solemnly and she explained what he needed to do. “Remember how youhide? You’re going to do that, you’ll make yourself as small as you can, and don’t stop until I tell you.”

    Hel looked up suddenly and a shadow darted away just on the edge of the alley. Someonewas definitely following them. She shuddered, it was the kind of shiver that goes down your spine and demands attention. One caretaker called it a water fowl walking across your grave, which sounded silly at the time.

    She took the boy’s hand and went to the side of the street to hail transport, she’d planned on using public transport, but now it felt like she should just take a private taxi to the shop.

    Once she’d secured their ride, she helped Xander in and gave the address to the driver. He was silent and kept looking back at Xander, which made Hel even more concerned. There was a holocamera attached to the dash, so maybe this guy wouldn’t try anything, she hoped, but he seemed to be taking a very odd route. She consulted her directions, and the driver had indeed been doubling back rather than going directly to the address.

    “You can just let us out up here,” she demanded and pulled Xander on to her lapfor a swift exit, but the driver shook his head no and kept driving. “Excuse me,” Hel spike up again, “I insist you let us out - now!” Her burst of influence seemed to work as he slowed to stop. She tossed some credits at him and jumped out with Xander.

    Now she was torn between going directly back to the shuttle at the spaceport and getting the medications. Maybe she was just being anxious for finding the child alone on the streets? Get a grip, girl! She pulled Xander along and walked to the shop, where she planned to get the items and then get Xander back to the ship.

    She sent an alert to Cal that was she was arriving at their intended meeting destination as they walked into the vast entry of the shop. Hel went directly to the counter and gave the man working a list of what Cal had asked for. “It will take a few minutes to gather these, and one must be compounded,” the man told her, “so feel free to look around or have a seat over there,” he indicated a sitting area that included some amusements for children.

    Xander sat at her feet and played with a pile of building blocks, which gave her time to explore why she felt things weren’t right. She wasn’t imagining that one, or more, persons were following her. That driver would be dead if she hadn’t been instructed not to call attention to herself.

    The doors slid open at the front of the shop and two very large men entered. They walked around appearing to browse, but Hel felt immediate threat. She put a message in her comlink that would go to all the other members of what was left of the Sith group and placed her comm under a stack of flimsies on the table beside her with the message unsent.

    Next she removed her grandfather’slightsaber from under her cloak, and levitated it into the bag of first aid supplies from one of her previous stops. Then she stood andpicked Xander up to hold him on her hip, she walked towards the opening in the counter and had planned to go into the back area. But a very strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her back, “where do you think you’re going?” The stranger demanded to know, but Hel didn’t answer him. She held Xander close and swiveled her arm to try and get out of the creep’s grasp. Oddly enough he let go and she turned to face him, “what do you want?” If only the pharmacist would hurry, maybe she could stall and just talk to them until hecame back.

    “Don’t worry your pretty head,” the second man said as he joined them holding a roll ofadhesive strips used to secure bandages. “We can use this to bind her wrists,” he said to his partner. “No!” Hel gasped and ran for the entrance, not before she used the Force to press her comlink to send her alert.

    Was noticed, but my little brother is with me. You’ll need to get the medicine ASAP.

    “Keep playing the game, Xander,” Hel whispered and held him closely as she ran. But, just outside the front door a large armored vehicle waited and more beings had exited and surrounded Hel.

    “You were right, Kaf,” one spoke, “the kid will fetch a good price.” “What about the girl?” That was the driver from earlier! She should have killed him after all. “I know of a brothel she’d be perfect for,” the man named Kaf answered, “the Hutta like them young and pale.”

    Hel had no choice but to reach out to her father, Bellorum, and anyone else. It wasn’t the same as reading a message, but she conveyed that she was being taken. Help.

    She could fight, but that would make a huge scene, and what about Xander? It wouldn’t be possible to keep up with the child and fight this group. One of the men tried to take Xander, and the child bit him. “Why you littlewretch,” he spat and raised his hand to slap the child. Hel stepped back away from the man, “leave my brother alone.” She pouredurgency into the Force hoping her father was on his way, or maybe Cal would show up.
    Xander was now howling and kicking like crazy, and the men didn’t want a scene so Kaf spoke up, “fine, you can make this easy or we can knock your ass out for the ride. So get the kid to shut up and get in,” he jammed his thumb in the direction of the vehicle.

    Hel whispered to Xander and walked slowly over to the open hatch, she had been fully using the Force so what was the harm in continuing, “you don’t want me to go with you.” Her fingers fluttered slightly at Kaf as she spoke. His head tilted back and he laughed loudly, “this isn’t a game, child, get in.” He placed his palm in the center of her back and shoved her on to the floor of the vehicle and followed her in. “No games,damnit!”
    He eyed Xander for a moment and then decided he could just sit without a restraint rather than an attempt to strap him in. The men made their living selling children, and the girl was definitely older than what they usually take, but currently the demand was high for boys. It would be easier to just take the girl along and not leave any witnesses.

    The other men were getting in and didn’t see Cal standing nearby. He held his blaster, but he would be very outnumbered if he fired on the gang. When then last one was turning to get in he quickly fired 3 rounds and ducked behind a rubbish bin. The hatch quickly closed and they sped off...with Hel. Cal ran over to the goon on the ground as he grabbed his com from his pocket. He had to tell Haretisch.

    Tag: @Darth_wanderguard @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29 @QueenSabe7 @Snokers @Jerjerrod-Lennox
     
    Last edited: Sep 1, 2019
  8. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Lord Manticore
    Leaving Kesh

    The Kuat Team had proven that it was capable, and that pleased him, but he didn’t allow that to fool him. The real test was yet to come and for that, he needed to be ready.

    Manticore had bandaged his wounds with bacta patches and the like, while he tended to a more pressing issue. There was simply not enough time and the present materials were merely adequate for what he truly had in mind- so he built himself a temporary saber staff. A double lightsaber place holder as it were. Snoke hadn’t exactly thrown-in his old weapons while he was frozen in carbonite, no doubt as a precaution.

    Still, though simple and basic in design, this one was still lethal, as any weapon of its kind should be, but what he had in mind was special. All in good time, of course.

    In short order, Manticore boarded the waiting Imperial-era shuttle and took his place at the pilot’s seat as indicated by Darth Insipid. The zabrak Sith Lord offered a respectful nod, then sat and went through a thorough pre-flight systems check. It felt good to be back on the mission field, and he wished for at least a successful start- if nothing else.

    Absently, he noticed the Dark Lord’s holocron a he continued with his checks. Both Leda and Bernael arrived in a timely manner, as expected. Shortly after, Darth Insipid briefed them with updated details concerning the mission.

    Keeping track of history was a bit of a task all its own, now add alternate history to that. It was good that the Sith Emperor was a man of letters.

    Manticore listened on, taking in the Kuati cultural lesson. So, he was to be Leda’s telbun and wear a headscarf. Disguises were not the zabrak’s forte, but as noted, everything was different here, or rather, different enough. As a telbun, he was chosen for his potency, not vain appearance. He could live with that distinction.

    On inspiration, Manticore decided to go with one of his earliest aliases for this mission-that thought also reminded him of a crucial question he had for Lord Insipid. But that was for later.

    “I’ll be known as Harrow, that persona should fit the bill." He observed with a slight pause, as if savoring a specific memory. "However, how should I address Leda, or anyone else for that matter?"

    It was a good question, as they would indeed be traveling undercover.



    Tag: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @darthbernael
     
  9. Lady Belligerent

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

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    GM Update

    aboard Ship

    It felt as if hours passed like days, or was it truly days? For the three beings inside Ship it would be next to impossible to know. Saix had originally made tally marks on the wall next to where she leaned, but Ship was greatly offended that she dare desecrate its wall and it would erase the mark and inflict pain as punishment...she gave up trying. Once the pain eased, she would slip into a restless and dream filled sleep.

    Finis tried to question Ship and repeatedly asked to be released. Ship ignored him and was preoccupied with making decisions about its own escape and wasn’t sure yet what to do with the beings inside him.

    Part of him, the darkest area of his existence, just wanted to absorb their life force. To dissolve the bodies and spew the blood into space as he fled through hyperspace.

    That notion was quickly discarded. He didn’t like their scent and imagined the taste, as he’d tasted the flesh of many beings and most were disgusting. It wasn’t worth the effort.

    Finis had noticed the heat first. The viewport showed a planet, but Ship wasn’t informing them of where they were. Once again Finis asked questions, but Ship lost his patience and a slippery vine of flesh slipped around his neck and injected a fluid to sedate him. The twig of flesh retracted and disappeared back into the wall once Finis sank to the floor and stopped thrashing.

    The third being, Arach, might be curious about their destination. Ship was leaving her alone for now since she wasn’t being a bother.

    Tag: @Moonspun Dragon

    ———-

    IC: Zalen

    Zalen sat in the shuttle assigned to her and went through the intel detailing Kralkus and Arach. The reports on Kralkus were sketchy, there were possible sightings of him all over the galaxy, but nothing looked credible. She knew him to be a crazy little bastard that she did not want to tangle with. If he wanted to be found, he would come to them.

    Opening the files on Arach, she found information that was more recent and one anonymous source had connected her to being with Ship, and several freighters had made reports in public space channels that described Ship. She made notes of the coordinates the reports contained and began making her plan. Then sent messages to Ravenous and Hades, telling them to report to shuttle Chanel.

    Zalen leaned back and stretched her legs, crossing her ankles before closing her eyes. Now she waited.

    Tag: @E. L.Knight @WookieeRage
     
  10. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    Combo with Wanderguard

    IC: Plo Wanderguard & Syren

    Alleyway, Nar Shadaa

    He could all but see the convulsions, ripples in the surface of the liquid as he stared down into his drink - some awful Tarisian swill, the taste of which was second in bitterness to that which was reverberating to him through the force. Once it might have tasted sweet, but now...

    Syren. Ohh no. And that blind cripple she’d left with. They weren’t even very far. Plo finished his drink, dropped a credit chip on the bar and briskly turned to scan for exits.

    He hit the back door, the hot night air beading sweat or maybe condensation on his forehead as he looked left but instinctively turned right down the alley. A left turn, and then another right, and at a shadowy dead end he spied them.

    “Someone finds you like this,” he started, speaking in hushed tones, his steps almost cautious as if approaching a predator, “and it’s a hard mess to talk yourself out of. We should leave.”

    She could sense his approach through her dulling senses, and found the intrusion to be... annoying.

    Still on her knees, Syren listened to the last drops of blood as they fell away from the corpse's severed wrists and the gaping hole in his midsection, splattering softly into the pool below where he hung. A moment passed and she slid her eyes up to Plo who had approached her position rather slowly, and she suddenly reached out for one of his hands, pressing the gore-covered credit chip into his palm.

    "Here, for my work," she told him, her voice even and strong. Calm. Then she stood, wiping a crimson smear across her cheek with the back of a hand. "This is what you wanted me to do, isn't it? Do what I do... for the group?" Though she remained rather emotionless by all outward appearances, she was confused, seemingly taking his need for them to rush out of there as a form of disapproval. Not that it would have stopped her, nor would it keep her from doing this all over again.

    Plo stared down at the credit chip in his palm, glinting as it caught the light, even through the bloodstains.

    “For the group,” he nodded.

    They were Sith, killing was nothing new. ‘Death walks beside them’ and all that - he couldn’t remember where he’d read those words but they resonated all the same. But this was something else. For Plo, murderous bastard that he was, violence had always been a means to an end. Sometimes a dispassionate one - to create fear, or to eliminate a threat - and sometimes for vengeance, certainly, but the act of the killing itself, to feel the life leaving a stranger’s body had never been nectar to him... not the way it seemed to be for Syren, now.

    “If someone sees you covered in blood there are going to be questions,” he stated matter-of-factly. Reaching into his back pocket he produced a white handkerchief and held it out to her.

    Syren took the cloth and halfheartedly began cleaning her hands. She licked her lips while doing so, the faint taste of copper stinging her tongue. "You don't think something like this is commonplace around here?" she asked then with a scoff, though no longer looking at the mangled corpse beside her. She was done with it. "Hardly think anyone would give a damn."

    She glanced down the alley, still dark and inactive as ever. The downright seediness of the area was still a heavy presence, feeding on her feelings in the moment, and she, them. "Besides, you shouldn't be so concerned, Night Herald." Syren's darkened eyes flicked back to Plo's face, narrowing as she continued, her voice dropping. "Dark Lord. Imperator. You could crush this entire district with little effort if you wanted."

    Little clippings of memories from Mortis tried to work their way into her thoughts but she beat them back, which she had gotten quite skilled at doing. "Hiding a little blood doesn't change who we are."

    “No,” he agreed. “But what are we?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question - he genuinely wondered. “And what am I? Night Herald of ashes? Dark Lord of dust? Imperator of all the wreckage.”

    He put his hands in his pockets and deflated slightly. “We all have our regrets,” he offered, indirectly referencing his betrayal on Mortis, for which he had never properly apologized or atoned. Sith don’t apologize, but was he still Sith? “What do you regret?” he asked.

    Syren stiffened..

    Trusting the wrong people, trusting at all. Listening when she should have ignored. Letting her parents live as long as she did. Allowing love to cloud her judgement. Loosing sight of who she really was... Her regrets were many. Mostly, she didn't want to look at them that way, but when she allowed her mind to over-examine and overthink, the weight of her mistakes would have the potential to undo her. She gave them too much power.

    "I regret enough," she replied simply, not elaborating for fear of where that conversation would take her. Syren continued to stare at Plo, confused again, this time wondering why he would ask her such... well, such an emotional question.

    "As I'd imagine you do, too." She did not mention Hel, but thought of her as she tried to shift focus. "You may not have your fancy titles any longer, but who we are remains the same. Deep down." A hand came up to rest at her chest and she leaned in an inch, emphasizing her point. "I know who I am."

    “It’s not who we are inside, but what we do, what we choose, that counts,” he replied. “And I would not choose to leave mayhem and ruin in my wake here as I have in the two worlds before it.”

    He paused. That was an odd admission to make, out loud. It was an admission to himself as much as to Syren, perhaps. A simple validation of something which had been true for some time - he was not the same as he had been, not in the ways that mattered, anyway.

    “Not for my own sake,” he added. “Never that. Hel, and...” he hesitated, “you and the others. For what I did on Mortis,” the words came awkwardly, but he hoped she would understand his meaning.

    "Hel hasn't seemed to take much issue at all with... that event." Syren replied carefully, the memories now pouring in, as she had let them. "Though I suppose that doesn't surprise me. She is strong, moving on and carving her own path..."

    She felt weird now. And not in the way she thought she would, whenever this subject was broached as it inevitably would have to be. This seemed strange because of how... not strange this turned out. Was she settling into the truth that everyone betrays you, becoming numb to it, or was it that she had just gotten so tired of holding onto this specific anger? But, what made this so different from past situations, where she still harbored hate so venomous, that even the thought of a name would bring her right back into the throes of revenge?

    "I... don't know if-," Syren began with a light stammer, pausing as she clearly wrestled with her words. She could feel a flush in her cheeks, despite the chill in the night air and she gave him a small nod. "You don't need to atone for anything, for me. We're still living, for now, aren't we?" It was too hard to maintain eye contact so she looked away, beginning to clean the gore from her blade.

    “For now,” he acknowledged, with a conciliatory nod. He wasn’t sure but it felt as though, maybe, they had finally come to terms over the past. “I think you’re wrong about Hel,” he came back, questioning himself as he knew Syren was probably doing also, as to why he was being so open with her. They weren’t friends. “She’s not come around,” he said anyway, thinking of the message he had sent Hel earlier, and ended with love, dad. It felt... weird, but only afterward. He didn’t know if it had been simply an awkward misstep or something worse, something that would remind her of how much he was not anything so familiar as “dad,” however much he tried. Insofar as she even appreciated the concept given the upbringing she’d been subjected to. All he knew was that the message had gone unanswered, and that the opposite of love was not hate but apathy.

    Conveniently timed, his chime pinged with a message. A message from Hel.

    Was noticed, but my little brother is with me.You’ll need to get the medicine ASAP.

    ... what could possibly...

    A wave of distress followed, a ripple in the force. Staring at the message in confusion, he saw that she had set the comm as a locator beacon, and then it all clicked. Xander. She’d found him and... then someone had found them both. The beacon was pinging from across town.

    His blood ran cold. He would kill the doctor and mount his skull on the nose of the yacht for bringing his daughter to this godforsaken planet.

    He looked up to Syren, knowing she had felt it too, and that she had received the comm message. “I think I may need your help... please.

    The moment Syren had caught on, her body went on full alert and her eyes began darting about the alley, looking for the source of the discomfort she had felt. She looked to Plo then, and saw him concentrating on his comm, reading a message.

    As if on cue, her own device vibrated against her skin and she quickly read what she had received. The words made no sense to her, but it had come from Hel. And judging by the suddenly altered demeanor of her father, she knew something was wrong.

    This encounter between she and the former Night Herald had been... bizarre, to say the least. He had spoken to her as if she were a close confidant, a friend even, and they both knew that she was nowhere near being that important to him. Important, or trusted. However, she had remained loyal the Dark Lord for a few different reasons and whether she liked to admit it or not, one of them had become Hel. Syren had grown to feel some sort of protective way about the girl, which she fought every chance she had, but here she was again... ready to keep her from harm.

    "Of course," was all she said in reply to Plo's plea, already turning to march back to the rear exit of the cantina they had come through. "Let's go find her."

    TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard ( @Lady Belligerent , mentioned)
     
  11. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Leda
    Kesh, preparing for departure

    Thank kriff the keshiri have TASTE.


    Leda had done some digging and hadn’t asked any questions, but she was smiling as she slowly cinched then zipped closed an emerald green corset – sleeveless and cropped to reveal a simple black tank top beneath, this was no mere fashion statement, though it was in line with some of her more avant garde tastes. Disregarding the unknown quality of the materials and the fact that it looked like it was made some time ago, it was supposed to be a breastplate and rib shield in one, a sturdy piece of armor that didn’t look like much more than a high-ranking lady maid’s attire. She liked it, so she was wearing it.

    Pulling on a pair of leggings and thigh-high boots after, she finished with a pair of deceptively decorative bracers over her forearms and a long jacket that she didn’t put on quite yet. Admiring the completed look in a long mirror, she nodded her approval.

    “Outfit, check.”

    Next she kneaded her skull, loosening her silvery hair into long waves that cascaded down her back. Using swift fingers and muscle memory, she created several braids that wound into one single loose knot at the nape of her neck.

    “Hair, check.”

    And last, she grabbed a strappy sheath and reached behind her, clasping her red-bladed short sword to her back. A utility belt followed, buckled to hang low on her hips and a hand gave a soft pat on the silver cylinder that hung from her left.

    “Weapons, check.”

    Doing the routine roll of her shoulders, Leda winced at the stiffness that still remained. The training session between herself, Lord Manticore, and Bernael hadn’t helped to loosen things up as much as she would’ve liked. Instead, she was sore and had bruises dotting her fair skin, mingling in with the scars that permanently laced her body. She wasn’t one to complain though. She wore wounds with pride, no matter the size, and her pride was still riding high after impressing a few very important Sith.

    Rested as best as she could be, mentally intact and recovered, Leda was mostly just anxious to move on to the actual assignment and get back into the swing of a warrior’s life. Without it, well, what was she left with?

    Shrugging the dread off, she snatched up her coat and headed off to locate her mission-mates.

    A short time later she wandered into her destination a little breathless, trying to ignore a minor headache that had begun throbbing at her temples. She met the other three in an incredibly unremarkable shuttle, Imperial by first glance, positions immediately given once she was aboard and her belongings practically ripped from her hands by purple-skinned slaves that were apparently being brought along for the ride.

    “I better get those back,” she spat at the one who had taken her things back to wherever it was she’d be staying. She gave a cursory glance at the burly and altogether very male Sith that were standing in the cockpit with her. And I better have my own room, she thought before Insipid began his briefing.

    With the help of a rather intriguing holocron, he peddled through a little history and the Kuat culture in a way that kept Leda interested. Though the idea of the females of the species basically being used as breeding machines was an off-putting notion. One of those barbaric and outdated societies that saw females as sub-creatures, as something ‘less than’ where their male counterparts were concerned. Easy to assume, and not the first she’d heard of. Hopefully they could slaughter a few them for good measure, but with a sigh, she was sure that she’d be frowned at for doing so.

    “Usually it’s a female who has multiple telbun.” Insipid continued, motioning towards her as she was clearly the only woman present. “So you’re to be the matriarch...”

    “I… what?” Leda mumbled but he hadn’t heard her, moving on to designate Manticore one of her very own ‘telbun’ seed-planters, Berneal a bodyguard, and Insipid… the husband. Her husband?

    A protector, a side-piece, and a spouse all in one go.

    Extremely ill-timed and rather inappropriately, she laughed just barely under her breath. Stopped to try and hold it in, and then laughed loud enough to be heard.

    “Though to the public, and the customs officer,” Insipid interrupted her, to which she sobered some. “You’ll be in-charge. We’ll defer to you, in the presence of witnesses.”

    With a cough and a clearing of her throat, Leda successfully held back any further giggling fits and nodded her acceptance. Suddenly she wished she had an easier rapport with her Emperor, one in which she could be a bit more relaxed and make jokes, but she supposed that wasn’t why he was their leader – to joke.

    “I’ll be known as Harrow, that persona should fit the bill." Manticore spoke up, all business as she would have expected. "However, how should I address Leda, or anyone else for that matter?"

    Leda switched her gaze to Bernael, as he was the only one that did not outrank her. “I was thinking, maybe Mistress? Or Madame?” She chewed her lower lip and now had to glance down at her feet for a spell to compose herself again. Once she was sure she wasn't going to act like a silly child any longer, she straightened and behaved herself. “Sorry, my Lords, what I meant was that I would like to know the same.”

    She considered something else then. "And how do we dress?"

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125 @darthbernael
     
  12. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Grand Vizier Bo

    Kesh, Shuttle...

    The Vizier finished buffing up his blaster, having hardly paid any attention to Yur, and concealed it in it’s holster. He played around with his new title in his head and the more he heard it, the more he liked it. He was not born to live an ordinary life in this galaxy and die creditless.

    He was still distracted though, to say the least, distracted by The Dark Lord of the Sith, the God, what he’d gotten him into. But his thoughts dwelled mostly on Anark. Something told him his brother was still living, just not... here.

    Dealing with this Queen Mother would go in his favour with Insipid and with this new order. He had to drive his position firmly into solid ground. Ni’Korish would be his manifesto.

    He took a look around the shuttle at the others present, waiting patiently and silently for them to reach their destination.


    TAG: @Sinrebirth @darthbernael @darthhelinith
     
  13. darthbernael

    darthbernael Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 15, 2019
    IC Bernael
    Leaving Kesh


    Following the training, and the questions, Bernael had retired to one side of the training area, since he’d come through the portal to this time of Kesh, everything he owed was currently on his person. He would have to check to see if his accounts remained the same in this time, but suspected they did, and he would be able to procure more equipment or anything else needed, as time went by. Walking over to the rack he retrieved his cloak, covering himself, another somewhat shapeless, humanoid form, again.

    As he walked he felt some weariness come over him. The movements and light battering he had taken would heal rapidly once he had a chance to rest on the trip to Kuat. He exited the hall, headed for the landing pads. As he approached the ships spread out across the pads he could sense his new Master aboard one of them, which meant that was the one he must take. Walking up the ramp he saw it had room enough for all of them so that they were not in each other’s pockets for the duration of the trip.

    The sense of where Lord Insipid was was on the bridge and he walked through the shuttle to reach the bridge. Already present were Lord Insipid and Lord Manticore. He nodded, deep ones of respect to the Lords, before moving to one side, back to the wall. Soon enough Leda joined them, and he could sense her amusement, ‘Interesting, possibly another like Renn or Helinith’ he pondered.

    Lord Insipid, with the assistance of a holocron, began their briefing. It was obvious what a major reason for their trip was, they needed Kuat for the shipbuilding ability, most important when rebuilding. Otherwise most of it was pretty standard to a matriarchy, aside from perhaps the concept of a telbun. ‘I doubt I would fit as either a husband or telbun, too different.’ and soon enough his thought was confirmed by Lord Insipid’s recommendations. Unsurprisingly, given the type of society, Leda was to be the official face of the group, the Matriarch. He waited while she deliberated, which did not take very long.

    To his relief, having to hold a force masking of his features would weaken him, with long term use. He was to be the bodyguard, able to mask his features still with what he almost always wore. The giggles reminded him of others, and while he was glad those two were no longer his responsibility to ensure they got where they needed, he wished...no, change that he wished the Hapans well, they would need it with the chaos to come.

    As he mused he half listened to the interplay between Leda and Lord Insipid, knowing that Leda being in charge was the public face, which, of course, meant the Emperor was the true leader of the expedition. He heard Lord Manticore create a false name out of thin air and thought whether he should or not, perhaps a good idea, so that they could continue to be unknown presences until it was past the time that they could be stopped. “As I am to be the bodyguard, Blade seems appropriate, Mistress,” trying it on for size and to remind himself, “Lords.”

    And then she asked a question that did matter, one that he perhaps could get away with what he wore, in his role, but mattered nonetheless. "And how do we dress?"

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @greyjedi125

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    IC Renn Turon
    Hapan Briefing


    Renn was lucky the inertial stabilisation was already on in the shuttle or the others would have noticed his semi failing attempts to suppress giggles at the way the situation had begun. ‘Helinith behave, ooohhh boy this is going to be fun!’ he thought.

    He thought about the world they were going to, already in chaos with what Grape had said, so getting in may be easier or harder, depending on what faction controlled the starport or how much security was present there. And, aside from Helinith, the briefing hadn’t given much in the way of filling out as to their individual roles. So, he was sure she’d have a plan, or they would work one out before they arrived. Vizier Bo was the one in command so perhaps he had already considered what they would do.

    He was sure he would be the one to stand out the most, two humans and a droid wouldn’t necessarily stand out, but a walking tree certainly would. ‘A lot of walking around super compressed then, trying to appear as much like a human as possible.’ he considered. To try, he shrank himself down, feeling his mass compress, his density increase. He also concentrated and felt his outer bark slowly change color, until it was closer to a tanned human color.

    Looking at a porthole he changed his facial features some so they appeared like what he remembered of an upper class human, not as beautiful or handsome as Helinith or Bo, but enough to appear to fit into Hapan society as well. The portions of his bark that he usually adapted to appear as clothing he also changed so they looked like what he recollected of Hapan fashion, ‘Perhaps some clothes, but not worth the cost when I must change rapidly and they shred. I’ll ask the Vizier at some point.’ He stood, and walked closer to the remainder of the group, now that he fit better inside the shuttle, so that if there was planning to be done he didn’t miss anything he could contribute.

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @DarthIshyZ, @darthhelinith, @Snokers
     
    Last edited: Sep 6, 2019
  14. darthhelinith

    darthhelinith Jedi Master star 5

    Registered:
    Feb 10, 2009
    IC: Darth Helinith
    Location: box of sugar, enroute to Hapes

    "Queen Mother Ni'Korish of Hapes,"

    “Ni'Korish. Ni'Korish. Ni'Korish.” Helinith played the name over and around her tongue as the kresh lad continued.

    "-is a dictator who has re-taken the throne in direct opposition to her daughter Ta'a Chume. This is on the basis that the daughter has yet to produce a female heir. Her only legitimate heir is male, and secreted away. A matriarchal society, they will defer to Lady Helinith for the most part, and the God-Emperor-Protector, Lord Insipid, has made it clear that this should be used, and that Lady Helinith is to behave."

    “Heyyy! Wait a- well what do you know. It actually says that in writing.” She looked down at the last sentence in the message, admiring the former master’s restraint in resisting the urge to write it in capitals, make it bold and underline it several times for good measure.

    She sat on top of her box of candy, a suitable throne, reading the message over and over again.

    “Hmmmmmmmm. Options. We have many options here.”

    She placed the datapad in front of her and it stayed, held in mid-air by the force as she tore open a small packet of powdered dipping sugar.

    “We could murder one of them. That solves things fairly easily. Or…”

    She pulled off a glove and stuck her little finger into the dipping sugar, licking it off her finger appreciatively.

    “Or we could murder them both and commit the planet to absolute chaos.”

    She dipped the finger again.

    “Or even instate myself as ruler. That might be fun. Maybe we should keep that as a trump card. Just in case the politics gets on our nerves.”

    Could she rule a planet? That might be fun.
    Politics. She reminded herself. You’d have to deal with the politics. Boooooorrrriinnnggg.

    “Okay, make that the absolute worst case scenario. I guess it is best not to meddle too much. Don’t want to cripple a planet that is in some way important to the grand scheme of things. Any thoughts?” she added, looking at first Bo and then Renn, whose new, smaller form, made her jump slightly.

    Tags: @Snokers @darthbernael @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Sep 7, 2019
  15. DarthIshyZ

    DarthIshyZ Chosen One star 7

    Registered:
    Jan 8, 2005
    IC: Serapis
    Onboard the shuttle en route to Hapes

    Serapis listened carefully as he sat down at the Dejarik table. Yur explained where they were going and the parameters of the mission. It will be interesting having Helinith in charge. Outward appearances would be easy. Being in a droid was like having a permanent "Sabbac Face." The mental gymnastics would be harder. He pushed some of the characters around the table absently.

    A question arose in his mind that he doubted she would have an answer for. He hoped this "heir" that was referenced wasn't to be his target body. He'd always considered himself drawn to the dark side, but still having some semblance of a conscience. Taking over someone important like him would certainly bother him. He made a Ng'ok kill a Mantellian Savrip.

    Helinith started to ramble. Obviously she was getting a sugar high here. While she went through her verbal wanderings, Serapis watched as this tree they'd been travelling with transformed. Never having met a Neti before, his transformation was impressive. It might even be useful.

    Helinith mentioned taking over the politics of Hapes. The droid had no eyebrow to raise at this suggestion. "Take over Hapes?" A scoff. "Let's just play things by ear, shall we? I don't think anyone could handle you governing them." Serapis paused a bit. That came out a bit harsher than he'd intended. Well, it was out there now.

    Serapis turned off the Dejarik table and got up. He headed back to his room for some privacy. His clumsiness at the ramp still bothered him. He needed to get more used to this form so he wasn't falling all over the place when they got there. He threw a few items on the floor, some obstacles, so he could pace a bit to get used to using this droid body.

    As he did, he discovered a datapad. Likely placed there by Insipid. "This should be interesting," he thought as he turned it on.

    Tags: @Snokers @darthbernael @Sinrebirth
     
  16. HanSolo29

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

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    Combo with Lady Belligerent – thank you!

    IC: Aryan Graul, Valieri Denora, and various denizens

    Streets, then Shuttle, Nar Shaddaa

    The young agent was a careful driver and stayed in the slow traffic lanes on the route to the Mezenti Spaceport. He attempted casual conversation at first, but felt self conscious and stopped. Verl was friendly with this guy, and being a great deal farther down the chain of command than Verl, he wanted to impress anyone superior by making his passenger feel at ease.

    As they neared the entrance of the port, it was necessary to ask Graul for guidance to his destination.

    Aryan had remained relatively quiet for the duration of the journey. The rhythmic motion of the transport vessel underfoot was enough to put him at ease after a long day of intense activity. While the exercise served as a good form of stimulation to aid in his recovery, he was finally content to let it go and fully surrender himself to his exhaustion. He found that it was far easier to relax now that he had succeeded in acquiring his goal. That brought with it an immense relief that allowed him to close his eyes and practically sink back into the seat cushions.

    With his cane resting easily against his knees and the whiskey bottle clenched tightly against his torso in a protective embrace, he was nearly asleep as they passed through the outer perimeter of the spaceport.

    But of course, that all changed when the driver called over his shoulder to ask for directions to their final destination.

    With a muffled groan, Aryan jerked upright and uttered a curse at the interruption. He glared at the back of the young man’s head before shifting his gaze to survey their current surroundings from the passenger viewport. In truth, he had no idea where they were; it was like one giant labyrinth that stretched on endlessly in a tangled web of thoroughfares and hidden passageways. He knew he had no hope in finding the shuttle, and that thought scared him. The anxiety was already beginning to mount within his chest, causing his pulse to pound in his ears and his breathing to quicken.

    “I--uh, you--here,” Aryan stammered uneasily, his left hand coming up to clench tightly at the back of the driver’s chair. “No...uh, I...don...don’t...nothing...uh, I--umm...fam, err--mill…” He shook his head with frustration, struggling to form the word. “Fam...uh, mill...ee--uh--kriff!” Inhaling deeply, he took a moment to compose himself before trying again. “Nothing...uh--I...nothing…know.”

    This carried on for several circuits around the spaceport until Aryan finally spotted something he did recognize...or rather, someone.

    “There!” he shouted, extending his arm beyond the driver’s ear to point out the forward viewport. “The...uh, that...care--give…,” he beamed triumphantly, his excitement palpable as he kicked the back of the chair with his good leg. “I...uh, I...know...her...she, umm...care, uhh--stop!”

    Valieri regained consciousness, and one of the mechanics had thankfully ran for a first aid kit. He took out a freeze pack and activated it before handing it to her, “this should help ma’am,” he told her kindly. “I’m sorry about the other guys, they’re a little...,” he searched for the best way to describe the other beings who worked around him, “uncivilized, I’m afraid.”

    She thanked him and gently pressed the pack against the most tender area, which was the side of her head near the eye. It was fortunate she didn’t have a fracture, or worse. It was at that moment that she remembered, “Aryan?!” The helpful medic informed her that he’d been seen fleeing the area with a blonde woman. Valieri groaned and covered her eyes with a hand, she had no idea how she’d find Aryan in this place. “Maybe he has tried to contact you?” A pilot who had stopped to watch then pointed out to her with a shrug. “Good idea,” she murmured and removed her com from a pocket. “Nothing,” she said to no one in general and dropped the device in her lap.

    She wished she could just wake up and be in her horrid cabin on the Dark Dreamer, if only this was just a nightmare.

    It was decided that she’d wait at the last place she’d seen Aryan, and hopefully he had simply gone for help or needed a refresher. Valieri hoped that was the case, but was feeling doubtful as more than an hour had passed and there was no sign of him. The pilot checked the public ‘freshers for her, and reported that there wasn’t anyone matching Aryan’s description. He did find someone willing to be their man, if they wanted, for a small price. “Sorry,” the pilot told her, “it was a poor attempt to get a smile out of you.”

    She grimaced and just nodded to get him to stop talking to her. If only the pounding in her head would ease, and the folks sitting on her were doing nothing to help it.

    Inevitably she’d had to com one of the others and report Aryan missing, but who should she go to? The woman frightened her a bit and seemed too aloof to even care, so Valieri decided to avoid her. She’d com Plo, he didn’t feel as threatening to her. With that decided she stood up, still holding the pack against her head, she and thanked those who had come to her rescue. Then as she was declining an offer for a dinner date, a vehicle pulled up beside them with the letters ‘EWPT” emblazoned on the side.

    The lateral hatch of the transport vehicle popped open with a hiss of hydraulics, revealing Aryan sitting in the back of the passenger cabin. As soon as they came to a halt, he began to swing his legs around to exit under his own power, though it was obvious through his wincing and the occasional grunt that issued from his mouth that it was proving difficult. Regardless of his limitations, he remained stubborn and carried on in an effort to demonstrate his capabilities.

    He foolishly placed his weakened right hand against the doorframe to act as leverage to pull himself to his feet, but before he could attempt to rise, and quite possibly cause an additional injury in the process, the uniformed driver rushed to the side of the transport and gripped his forearm for support.

    “Whoa, take it easy,” the young man uttered, carefully offering his assistance as Aryan regained his composure and stood. “Nice and slow. Yeah, there you go...you got it.”

    When he was stable and resting easily against his cane, Aryan glanced over at the driver, almost as if he intended to say something to the man, but the words would not come. He was far too distracted and tired to articulate his gratitude; he did not even want to try. Instead, he merely offered a short nod before turning his attention to the caregiver.

    “Look...bri--err, buy...whisk,” Aryan conveyed with a crooked grin, hoisting the whiskey bottle into the air as he hobbled slowly to her position. He was completely oblivious to the fact that she was upset, and continued to conduct himself as if nothing had happened.

    Or perhaps he just chose to ignore it to maintain his innocence.

    Either way, he did notice the ice pack pressed against her forehead, and he frowned as he gestured to it lazily. “Uh...you, umm...better?”

    Valieri eyed Aryan for a moment in awkward silence. As much as she wanted to scold her patient, she was also aware of needing steady employment.

    “Let’s go,” was her only reply until they were out of ear shot of bystanders. “I should send you to your room without dinner,” she finally told Aryan. “But, from your condition,” Valieri continued, “I’d venture to say that it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

    “Pun--uh, punish...ment,” Aryan repeated with a bitter scoff, canting his head to scowl at the woman beside him. He found that the more he was in her presence, the more he resented her. It was as if she did not take him seriously, or considered his situation a joke. How did she intend to help him when she had that kind of attitude? How could she understand?

    That thought caused a mounting pressure in his chest, and he tensed within her grip. His mood had visibly darkened; any elation he felt over achieving his goal and finding his way back to someone he deemed familiar instantly vanished. If she wasn’t careful, she would have another emotional outburst on her hands.

    “I...no, uh...no child,” he grumbled as he lifted his hand to beat his chest with dominance. “I...umm, I...man...grown...I...I, uh...under--understand. But...you…” Aryan contorted his body to stop their forward progress and jabbed a finger at her accusingly, “treat...uh, you...treat...me...like, ehh...I, uh...stu--err, stup--dumb--kriff...child!

    “You...umm, you...don--don’t...like...me,” he muttered harshly, his blue-gray eyes studying her with sincerity. For the first time in weeks, they were not dull and distant, but burned brightly with awareness. “I, uh...I…try...you, umm...you...no…see. I--I, uh...can--can’t...help--no, uh...I...no...con--con, err--uh...con--trol. Head...uh, my...head--hurt! Def--defect...uh, I...defect--broke!"

    He reached up and clutched at his head, unleashing a tortured scream as he closed his fist around a tuft of his hair and held it tight.

    Valieri reached up and gently removed Aryan’s hands from his hair, “please, don’t be distressed.” Her expression was kind, but internally she was very upset with herself. “That was extremely unprofessional of me, Aryan,” she told him honestly, “and I hope you’ll forgive me. I don’t mean to make any excuses, but I was very concerned when you were gone, so my relief at seeing you get out of that transport was immense.” She straightened the mess he’d made of his hair, “I was angry at myself and foolishly took it out on you.”

    They were standing outside the shuttle, where they could see that at least one member of their party must have been there and lowered the boarding ramp. “How about I settle you in and make you a snack?” Valieri asked Graul before adding, “we can put your whisky and spice loaf away, and you can relax before the others return.”

    Aryan blinked a few times to clear the tears from his eyes as he considered her words. Her emotional reaction helped him to process the situation, and to understand that maybe he had behaved inappropriately by wandering off on his own. Sometimes he required a visual aid to keep himself grounded and to provide the occasional reality check. He still felt uncertain, but he was willing to forgive and to accept her apology.

    With a shaky breath, Aryan nodded his head slowly and pulled against her arm to inform her that he was ready to move along to the landing ramp. “I...tired,” he mumbled in a weary tone, the simple statement serving as his concession.

    Once they boarded the shuttle, the caregiver stayed true to her word. After getting him settled in one of the rear bunks, she helped him to change out of his filthy clothes and swapped them out for something a little more practical to sleep in – a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt emblazoned with the Corellian Dreadnaughts smashball team logo.

    She then moved to the small galley to stash his goods and to reheat an order of fried crispic rolls they had picked up at a local cantina on one of their previous stops. Aryan heard his stomach grumble loudly in anticipation, but he would never get the chance to consume the meaty morsels.

    By the time she returned to his bunk with the tray of food, he was already fast asleep.

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent
     
  17. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Knight star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus stood there silently, seeing that he would be having a room to himself, for the first time. As he broke away the kaminoan lowered his head in reflection on his role as spokesperson to the Prime Minister of his home world. All in distraction for the rest of his Sith Compatorits for the true mission of collecting Insipid’s DNA. A rather strange mission, to be honest,considering that the Supreme Leader of the Sith is trusting this mission with his least trusted servants…

    Then Sidious spoke into his mind again, the AI’s voice as soothing as the Dark Side’s embrace. His words only confirmed Cocytus’s concerns about the mission. However, it gave true hope to his true ambitions after much worry and hesitation of acting too hastily, putting a small thin smile on his face. He found himself becoming too cautious to take risks after recent events. Something that the kaminoan believed something to be remedied if he wants to succeed in restoring the Sith.

    Cocytus nodded entered his cabin, which had nothing but a single bed and a desk with a chair. The kaminoan sat down on the floor in meditation on the Dark Side before a sinister smile grew on his face. Master… While we are getting you a new body on Kamino… Should we make sure that Insipid’s plans to wipe out traitors... succeed? It would be an opportunity we need to begin our purge to restore the Rule of Two, no?

    Tag @Sinrebirth
     
  18. Darth Kronos

    Darth Kronos RPF Interview Thread Host star 5 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Jan 2, 2016
    IC: Darth Kronos and Esmerelda

    We can make this work, Kronos thought as he entered his and Esme's quarters for the first time. The "double" bed, when looked at closer, was actually two single beds lazily pushed together. Throughout the Force, uncertainty could be felt - coming from Esme. When he glanced toward her direction, he noticed her expression: wan and fearful - though of what, he didn't know. And he was afraid to ask.

    His musings were suddenly interrupted by a kiss, and he embraced her almost immediately. Smiling softly, he hoisted her up by her hips, happy that they finally had some time to themselves.

    It suddenly came flooding back to her; the love beneath the physicality of the kiss. The intimacy was the thing she could not recreate in her head - just the scars and the pains and the -

    Esme banishes the thought with another impassioned kiss. She drew back, her eyes sparkling. “I love you.”

    Kronos lightly brushed loose bits of her hair from the right side of her face, letting out an amused scoff - the kind one would do when they hear something amusing but doesn't quite deserve full-on laughter. "I love you, too."

    But he still couldn't help but notice her fearful uncertainty. It was stronger now, more apparent. He now figured it was about the children, something he should have picked up on immediately. As if this moment was a waste of valuable time; time which could be spent searching for their lost children.

    He retreated from the embrace a bit, though his arms were still wrapped around her lower waist, and looked into her eyes. Surprisingly enough, they revealed next-to-nothing about her state-of-mind in that moment. All he saw was the sparkle that appeared when they kissed. But Kronos knew, deep down, that she was hiding a lot of her emotions.

    He was seconds away from prying.

    All it took was one simple question.

    But, in the end, he decided against it. Instead, he stepped back into the embrace and put his loving smile back on. "So... what do you want to do now?"

    Kronos was being his sweet self, the sensitive side that only showed around her, but he was giving her space to come to him. “What I want, and what I need,” she kissed him fully, settling herself into him.

    Her doubts began to recede and she found herself in the moment. She drew him down to the bed, stroking his face. It wasn’t that she needed a man, it was that Cassian completed her and she completed him.

    They were, after all, soulmates.

    Between a kiss, she meant to say thank you to him, but instead it came out as, “Sorry.” Sorry for going away, instead of thank you for waiting for her. It wasimpossible not to say it that way, but not mean both, in that moment.

    "What're you sorry for?" he laughed, placing his hands on either side of her face as they kissed.

    Of course, there was one thing he was angry with her about. One thing that he felt she stole from him without much thought at all.

    But he wouldn't dare mention that to her. Not here.

    Not now.

    This was a happy moment, an in-between moment, and he wanted to savor it for as long as possible.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
     
  19. Sinrebirth

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

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    GM Post 1 of 3

    IC: Darth Insipid, Lesser

    Near Mustafar, Hell

    Ventris, predictably, was crippled by whatever wound to his psyche that he had taken when he was overthrown as Dark Lord by Insipid all those years ago. Sure, Insipid had allowed Mystique to ascend and do the messy fighting of the Shadow War, to reunify the Order, but he had taken back those reins soon enough, notwithstanding who thought themselves Emperor or not.

    Insipid had always been in control.

    Though not since the End of Time had commenced, he supposed. Barely surviving, tugged along by someone else's fate, Protecting a galaxy which was already in the throes of Destruction. The Force in a turmoil like no other. Nothing - not the first Twilight Wars, the reign of Vitiate, Palpatine, Krayt, not even the months where Abeloth had ran amok throughout the galaxy had things been so very out of control. If someone had planned this apart from Typhojem himself, they were as mad as they came. Nobody would purposely cause this to happen with their sanity intact.

    But Insipid didn't have time for this. He raised his hand and electrified Ventris out of sheer irritation, focusing the bolt on his head to drive the man into unconsciousness. With a gesture, he directed the shuttle to autopilot and auto-fire forward at the Yuuzhan Vong cruiser, which was happily absorbing the bolts of both the shuttle and the TwinTail assailing it's rear. The commander was quietly confident that his trailing coralskipper would catch up and blow the TwinTail apart, especially now the pilot had put all of his dovin basil into speed.

    Insipid touched the Force to his feet, and was pushing the Predator to activate. Even before start-up had occurred, he had opened the rear bay door and shoved the fighter into space, turning it with the Force even as engines kicked in. Dispensing with shields and putting all discretionary power into his guns and inertial compensator, Insipid used the Force to keep himself conscious against the increased G forces and shot away from the shuttle, making it so he was at a right angle to the cruiser as swiftly as he could. The cruiser opened fire, the front shields taxing and the autogunner shooting down a plasma ball or two.

    Insipid knew he had mere moments and he turned the Predator with the Force, blacking out for a moment before it righted itself. He squeezed the triggers and poured fire into the cruiser, which suddenly found himself assaulted from three directions. The dovin basil tried to compensate, and split itself, allowing fire from all three directions to pepper the hull, spreading the damage out from one point but maintaining hull-integrity for the most part.

    A moment later Insipid's momentum had carried him past the cruiser, past the TwinTail -

    He fired again, catching the surprised coralskipper in the cockpit. The skip, Insipid's pilot parlance returning, continued on at speed, though no longer firing. It was a few moments from hitting the TwinTail, or, after that, plunging into the cruiser. Insipid managed to slow himself as another trio of coralskippers rounded the camp ship, but they were clear out of range for now.

    Opening a channel, Insipid hailed the TwinTail, even as he slaved the shuttle to his controls. "TwinTail pilot, move, but don't stop firing. I'm sending you navicomputer data."

    It was an open channel, so the Yuuzhan Vong could pick it up if they had an -

    And they did.

    "Infidel Predator, you interfere with our capture of Arek Eross. Speak your name, so I might remember you to the Dread Lord."

    "Rather not," Insipid said, cutting the channel. The cruiser was intact but the gravity well generator was undone. It would likely be unable to follow them into hyperspace, and the coralskippers didn't have hyperdrive. All 'Arek Eross' had to do was follow the hyperspace string - and survive not being rammed - and they could escape to Mustafar.

    TAG: @NickLitYouAFlame, @HanSolo29
    ---
    IC: Darth Insipid, Greater

    En route to Kuat, shuttle

    Leda seemed elated by the possibility, and Insipid simply affirmed Harrow and Blade with a nod to both Manticore and his apprentice. "We shall be merely Lord and Lady Shesh."

    "I took the opportunity to import the latest trends, which are in your rooms, but the telbun is expected to conceal himself from all, for he only belongs to the Lady, and the bodyguard is expected to be masked to prevent interactions that could distract the protector of the family unit." Insipid reached into compartment and began to place lens-inserts into his eyes, to conceal the red-glowing eyes. He was not especially used to being this tall in the body he had, but it was a thing. He blinked away any initial discomfort. "I will be expected to be completely silent. Maybe even visit the local entertainment while my wife telbuns." A soft snort. "It will be useful to have the Kuati expect our behavior."

    He pointed at the Holocron, which updated the data. "Our target is Ormes Apolin. A former Imperial Senator, he remained loyal and is rumoured to have been close to Palpatine after the Senate was dissolved. He has a great deal of contacts within the old Empire, and Kuat is riven with remnants. The shipyards were badly damaged during the New Republic takeover, who attacked the world three times in five months after the Battle of Endor." Insipid paused, remembering that it had been attacked merely once after the Battle of Endor in their old timeline. That was a change. He would have to investigate that at some point. "So if we turn up with a lot of money and an agenda which we don't want the New Republic to notice, we should make a lot of mileage. The New Republic is courting Apolin to be the Kuati Senator, but I have been unable to discover anything of the sort."

    Insipid held up a finger. "A word of warning. If we do happen to be caught, we are Acolytes of the Beyond. Nothing more nor less. There was a great deal of data about them in Haretisch's records, which implies Kralkus was hunting them down - which I have told Zalen." An image of an Imperial advisor surfaced. "From what I can gather, Advisor Yupe Tashu created the group to spread chaos in the build-up to the Battle of Jakku. A twenty four member cell attacked a New Republic outpost on Devaron, just before Jakku, but they have made no major moves since - there are rumours of a ringleader using a red lightsaber and a Sith mask, so we shall simply pretend to be a revealed cell."

    "All are caught in the river of power that is the Force, trapped by its currents. Only those who wield the dark side of the Force are capable of changing those currents; they are riverbreakers. They do not surrender to fate. They are its foes."

    The Holocron spoke a womans voice. "The Pantoran Kiza, who lead the Devaron attack," Insipid continued. "A degree of flavour to that, but you get the gist." He looked to the others. "Protect yourself if attacked, but do what you can to keep your Force usage discrete and your lightsabers hidden. We will nonetheless use mind tricks to ensure our weapons pass through customs." He shrugged.

    "Any final questions before I speak to Bernael separately? He has just arrived in this time; I am sure he has questions he has no desire to bore you both with... and you have an apprenticeship to hammer out, Lord Manticore." Insipid smiled softly.

    TAG: @greyjedi125, @QueenSabe7, @darthbernael
    ---
    En route to Hapes

    If Takaris Yur felt slighted by Grand Vizier Bo, the Keshiri imagined that the others felt worse; the man was seemingly focused on more important matters, whatever they were. Lord Insipid had told Yur that Bo was one of the few Sith, like Drost, that had originated in this timeline, though the idea of the Protectors striding across different world-lines was too incredible for the Keshiri to understand, for he had only known Lord Insipid for a few months - but at the same time he completely believed these Sith, who were so very alien to Kesh, may have been birthed in another reality.

    Fitting, for Gods.

    Yur left Renn and Helinith to chat over their plans, though there were no specific instructions about making Helinith into Queen Mother, Yur imagined, if they could do such a thing that it would be a useful thing to do. Queen Mother Helinith. Yur was impressed by the simplicity of a woman who wanted to take control of, what was it? 63 worlds? Just like that. Again, Gods, Yur had to remind himself.

    He guided Bo to his room, bowing slightly. "Grand Vizier, I have specific information for you from Protector-God-Emperor Insipid... and I understand that you are the brother of one of Insipid's apprentices, much like Protector Helinith. I would very much like to hear of Protector Anark and his prowess - I hope to obtain the power of the Force via my training with Lord Insipid too."

    Serapis was indeed in his room, the acclimatising to his droid form continuing, but, while Insipid had not expected him to be quite so debilitated, he had expected some issues, and planned ahead. The datapad activated, showing a small hologram - an Ithorian. "Greetings, I am Ser@pis1, a data program built to assist you. I have been loaded with your personality, Lord Serapis, insofar as much as it was able to be reproduced with the input of the various Sith records and data accumulated since you arrived in this timeline. As such, I am afraid to say, it contains minimal data about you before you were a Sith, but it is our Lord Insipid's hope that together we shall be able to create a data-mind for you, and eventually assist in your full recovery in anticipation of a full download to a flesh form. It may be that we begin with creating a cyborg for you, but at present there is insufficient finance available within the Sith Order coffers to finance such a project and a clone downpayment and a construction downpayment."

    It was a curious thing, a droid speaking to an AI version of himself, which might have shredded a lesser mind itself, but Insipid was confident that Serapis, who had once been split in three by a particularly vicious interrogation by Bellorum, which had caused incredible mental damage, would be able to adapt and indeed embrace the data-Serapis. Once the chip was inserted into the droid body, Lord Serapis would have opportunity to interact with Ser@pis separately until he was comfortable merging with it.

    Beneath the first layer of the box of candy that Helinith had, however, was a small, handwritten letter. It was sealed, and addressed. To my old apprentice. It had been placed so as to be hidden, and clearly was being kept from potentially one or more of the others.

    On the back it read. To be read away from traitors.

    The first level of intrigue began.

    TAG: @Snokers, @darthbernael and @Helinith (you two may combo), @DarthIshyZ (combo with GM)
    ---

    En route to Kamino

    The Sidious AI crooned. An artful suggestion, my apprentice. We shall simply allow the others to be destroyed now. Perhaps we shall arrange an accident. Insipid will be contented to have a few less threats, and you may even be trusted sufficiently to proceed into the bosom of his Order.

    But be wary,
    the droid intelligence warned. He does require a body and I imagine that, at very least, he trusts the former Holocron. It's demise must be our first step. But for now... the AI moved Cocytus' arm, and gestured over a datapad from the desk.

    Your present master has given you a briefing about Kamino in this timeline, it would seem. A sneer. But surely you can tell him more about your homeworld than not? Tell me - what drives this Lama Su, who now leads your world? A world which has been abandoned by the limelight since it created a Galactic Empire?

    While Soliloquy and Drost learned about each other and began their relationship as Master and Apprentice, Esmerelda woke up, feeling relatively satisfied with herself. She nuzzled with Cassian - with Kronos - thinking about the man and all their ups and downs and separations and reunions. After this adventure, they needed to settle down and hide away - discover something which would convince Insipid to let them go, far, far away, perhaps back to Lah'mu, where Cassian had created a home for them. It was within the old Imperial territory, but the New Republic would annex the surrounding systems soon enough and it would be even safer for them than it had been.

    But now it was her turn.

    She leaned over and kissed him, waking him with the action. Her eyes met his as he came to, and she narrowed them, mock-seriously. "So, what did you not say before we got carried away and fell asleep?"

    TAG: @Darth Cocytus, @Mitth_Fisto, @Silvertough, @Darth Kronos (if we end comboing, Kronos, so be it!)
     
    Last edited: Sep 8, 2019
  20. Lady Belligerent

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

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    GM Update 2 of 3

    IC: Hel

    She could have fought and killed them all with little effort, but if anyone witnessed it, then what? Or what if Xander were injured, or worse, killed? Hel leaned her head back against the side of the transport and closed her eyes, the motion and sounds of the vehicle had lulled Xander to sleep and he was curled up beside her on the floor. One of their captors had tried to sit Xander across from her, but she was able to influence his mind to leave Xander with her. The child noticed what she’d done, and she just shook her head at him and squeezed his hand. She pulled him close and whispered, “you stay small,” into his ear. The softness of his small head and hair caught her off guard. Then when he gave her a look with an expression of absolute trust before reaching up and stroking her cheek with hand she almost cried.

    She had never responded to her father’s message. Did Haretisch feel for her in any way similar to how she’d just felt for a child unrelated to her? He’d signed off the message with the words, “love, dad.”
    At the time she’d quickly closed the message feeing a jolt of unease. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith who made most beings tremble in his presence, did he really care?

    ’I’m a horrible daughter, dad. I’m sorry.’

    The transport stopped suddenly causing Xander to roll over and bump into one guard. Hel went to grab for the child, but the guard reacted quickly and snatched Xander up and flung him against the side of the vehicle. Xander landed hard and fell to the floor and began wailing, more from the shock of being woken so brutally than from physical injury.

    “Bastard,” Hel shouted and reached for the man’s throat, but she was grabbed by her hair from behind and thrown back to the floor. She glared at the men and sat in silence. Xander crawled to her and she cradled him to her, slowly his sobs were turning to hiccups and he was dozing off again.

    The guard who had so cruelly treated Xander was seated now immediately to Hel’s right. She closed her eyes and could almost see the man’s most inner workings, passing his stomach and intestines before she found her target...his bladder. It required almost no effort to probe his bladder in the most vulnerable spots until it released. The cruel bastard soiled himself.

    All Hel had to do was remain solemn and not laugh.

    These guys weren’t Force sensitive, and with Xander back to sleep, Hel reached out to her father. It was just a quick nudge with thoughts of reassurance. She wasn’t sure if he’d understand, but he was the wisest person she knew. They were okay, right now. But, the distance between them was growing farther.

    Tag: @Darth_wanderguard @Sinrebirth @jjerod-Lennox (just for keeping up) @QueenSabe7

    ———————

    IC: Bellorum

    Food would definitely have to wait.

    Bellorum passed her comlink to Ike, who had his own but probably hadn’t checked it. “Hel managed to find Xander,” she said quietly, “and I gather they were kidnapped.” She glanced around them, but knew the place was mostly empty except for a couple of employees at the counter. “We are not longer being pursued, which makes sense because who wants to put that much effort into a bar fight,” she shrugged. “Looks like we are still searching for the bloody child, I’ve got the coordinates from Hel’s beacon,” she sighed as she stood, “so, let’s get on with it before Haretisch destroys the planet.”

    ———

    Pending tags from last week for @Moonspun Dragon @WookieeRage @E. L.Knight
     
  21. Darth_wanderguard

    Darth_wanderguard Game Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Apr 26, 2005
    GM UPDATE 3 OF 3

    IC: Plo WanderguardNar Shadaa, Pharmacy
    (Combo with Lady_Belligerent)

    “Where is she!?” he roared, baring teeth, knuckles turning white for the force with which he was clutching the pharmacist’s collar, after slamming him into the nearest wall. Not fiercely enough to injure him, as he still needed the information. But he was angry, nonetheless, so much so that the shelves rattled all around in time with his temper. The pharmacist was frozen with fear, unable to answer, and the chances of the old Darth Haretisch making an appearance here were becoming greater by the moment. He felt betrayed, he supposed by himself as much as anything for not putting an end to the excursion when he had the chance. Somehow he trusted that Bellorum and her precious little hanger-on would keep his daughter safe. Bugger that - he could depend on them for nothing sensible and he knew it, had known it since the beginning.

    This was where the beacon had led them, he and Syren, to a small pharmacy.

    “Listen,” he whispered harshly, “you’ve only a few more seconds to tell me what’s happened here, and where my daughter is gone to, before I twist the head free from your body. Do you understand?”

    In the back room, Cal had secured the injured goon’s wrists with polyties and with the pharmacist’s help, had dragged him into the back of the store to wait for Haretisch to get there. Now a loud disturbance from the front of the shop alerted him that the cavalry had arrived. He knew this was going to be bad, but it was time to face the music. Not to mention it was important to identify these guys and find Hel quickly.

    “He didn’t see what happened,” Cal stated carefully, stepping out into view, “and I only saw a gang of males loading Hel and Xander into an armored vehicle. I fired at them and managed to hit one,” he was speaking faster as he continued, “he’s tied up in back.”

    Plo’s eyes flicked to Cal, and then back to the pharmacist, before releasing his grip. Wordlessly, he stormed past them both to the back.

    Meanwhile, Hel’s lightsaber waited in a shopping bag beside the table where her comm was hidden beneath a stack of flimsi, and to a budding psychometric such a storied weapon might not only offer insight into events new and old, but might even call out, to make its presence known.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7, @Lady Belligerent

    ~~~

    (Combo with Snokers)


    “I’ll raise, 100 credits.” The chips clinked as they hit the table.

    “Ahhh I’m out.”

    Pazaak wasn’t exactly a popular game anymore, at least not among the masses - that distinction was mostly enjoyed by Sabaac. The high rollers of Nar Shadaa, however, very much favored Pazaak as a more predictable and less chaotic alternative. And on a crime-ridden world like Nar Shadaa, there were those high rollers who were rich enough to be in a certain place and not worry who knew, and those who were on the cusp and had to keep things quiet and hope not to attract the unwanted. Those in this particular room were of the latter variety. Four men - two Rodians, one Aqualish and a horridly disfigured human - were seated around the table in a dimly lit hotel room.

    With a honking chuckle, the Aqualish raked in the pot of chips, having won the hand. “Maybe time to go home?” he laughed in Huttese.

    “Sorry I’m late,” Anark announced in the same tongue as he sauntered into the room, “deal me in,” he said, switching back to basic.

    ‘Rusty’ an internal voice observed.

    It was.

    There were less opportunities to exercise his Huttese as opposed to Durese and the language of his Jawa flying companion.

    He pulled a chair out and plonked himself down, his eyes making the rounds across the table, his face soft and smiling.

    Every face he met eyes with would be horrified. It took a madman like Anark to walk into a private, secret game as though he belonged, and for just a moment the ruse had worked - but only a moment.

    “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” the disfigured human screamed in Huttese at the bodyguard - who just happened to be an ill-tempered former shockboxing champion named Jarykko. Bad luck.

    TAG: @Snokers, @Bacta Bubble Bath
     
    Last edited: Sep 8, 2019
  22. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades and Morrigan
    En Route to Shuttle

    Hades and Morrigan passed through the halls to the shuttle in silence. Until Morrigan decided to try to convince Hades one last time to follow her suggestion.

    "You care for Finis, you feel guilty. let's go get him. You said you can feel your armor if you get near it. What do we need these Sith for?"

    Hades did not speak. He had told her no three other times because he knew that without them, he was nothing. yes, he was strong and skilled, but alone, he was not going to be able to help rebuild the Sith and eventually stop what was coming. As much as he HATED Insipid, he was going to place his trust in the Emperor because he had little else to believe in right now.

    "I said no. We will discuss this no further. I serve the Sith, what little remains, and we will need them."

    Morrigan grew silent instantly. She wanted to do more, but she trusted Hades with her life. As long as he led her, she would follow. She wanted to insist that they only cared about the other Sith and not Finis, or even about gaining control of Ship, but something in Hades seemed broken. he'd trusted and chosen wrong and now, he seemed at odds with his chosen purpose.

    They came to the shuttle where they were to meet with the rest of the team and silently boarded. She followed and did not speak.

    Hades greeted Zalen with indifference.

    "Lady Zalen. I was summoned?"
    TAG: @Lady Belligerent
     
  23. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Leda
    Shuttle, Kesh - preparing for departure

    Leda briefly wondered exactly what the “latest trends” were for where they were going, who they’d be portraying, and in a timeline such as this. It was such a trivial thing for a Sith to worry about when there was a complicated and delicate mission at hand, but in its superficial way it helped keep her at ease. She was in fact quite nervous, even with all her bravado and pride. The company she was keeping put her on edge… that and the whirlwind of not even a full day since she woke; she hadn’t barely a moment to really think.

    It was for the best, she reasoned, to be hurried about and exhausted. Distractions of both the physical and emotional sort masked the deeper issues regarding all that had transpired personally over the past weeks, months – years. A lot of things she avoided like the plague, because to dwell on them was to be weak.

    "All are caught in the river of power that is the Force, trapped by its currents. Only those who wield the dark side of the Force are capable of changing those currents; they are riverbreakers. They do not surrender to fate. They are its foes," stated the holocron, or a voice stored within did. These words immediately resonated with Leda, and for an instant she tuned everything else out as she worked out why.

    It was simple, really.

    If she had left her life up to fate, she’d still be locked away and long forgotten, maybe even dead. All her potential, wasted. But, with the help of the mysterious Man in Black – she couldn’t yet bring herself to fully acknowledge the possibility of her savior being her own flesh and blood, and that vision she had endured was shaky at best – she had broken fate itself to create her own. She was a ‘riverbreaker’.

    Zoning back in just as Insipid’s briefing came to an end, Leda committed the name Ormes Apolin to memory along with the key points of their directive. She’d need to seek out an encrypted datapad or some similar device here soon, to be sure she kept everything straight.

    "Any final questions before I speak to Bernael separately? He has just arrived in this time; I am sure he has questions he has no desire to bore you both with... and you have an apprenticeship to hammer out, Lord Manticore."

    “No, my Lord,” Leda replied with a smirk and saying nothing further, as to not delay her Emperor and Bernael from having their conversation. I need a conversation, she thought to herself as she turned to let the pair be on their way, sliding into the co-pilot’s chair beside Manticore. She nodded once in his direction before leaning back with a sigh.

    “So, do you think a Kuat female and her telbun actually know each other? Or is it a 'little less conversation, a little more action' type of thing...” she asked casually, threading a finger through a loose wave of hair. Her yellow-green eyes were staring off at nothing in particular as the question was really just a passing thought said aloud. “I’ll apologize in advance, if I am forced to treat you as anything less than your reputation requires…” she gave the zabrak a sidelong glance. “Your real reputation, of course.”

    Leda straightened then and looked around at the control layout of the shuttle, setting about assisting with launch prep. She was an adequate pilot, she remembered, mostly self-taught from a young age.

    TAGS: @greyjedi125 @Sinrebirth @darthbernael
     
    Last edited: Sep 10, 2019
  24. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    GM Approved.

    IC: Syren

    Pharmacy, Nar Shadaa

    She followed in Plo’s wake, stalking through the dirty streets of this Nar Shadaa slum to culminate at the scene of the crime - barging into the pharmacy and setting upon the man behind the counter without preamble.

    As if one was necessary.

    It was uniquely empowering, the Dark Lord’s ire, radiating outward from him to physically quake their surroundings. She drank it up as if she had gone days without being able to quench her thirst. If he had been looking at her just then, he would have noticed the grim satisfaction present in her expression just as she was sure he might sense it flowing openly through her emotions.

    Syren had merely stood back, watching the proceedings with detached amusement, and a wicked smirk. This was the man she remembered – Darth Haretisch, not Plo – his anger rising by the second and the fear it brought forth in anyone caught in its wake was truly something to behold. She found it comforting in a selfishly narcissistic way, to know that despite his speech back in the alley about trying to be without his destructive instincts, here he was… giving away a flash of what he still held inside. It was at the sake of his daughter, but regardless, they were who they were.

    Plo’s attentions suddenly shifting to the injured hired-hand that Dr. Jepsen had supposedly apprehended before the rest had fled with Hel and some kid, he abruptly turned and darted into the back room to resume questioning, taking along with him the majority of the intoxicating fumes of the dark side. Her kindling doused, Syren released a breath as she unwillingly sobered some. But she did not move to join him.

    Staying still, she leveled a look at the doctor, then a scrutinizing glance at the pharmacist, her dark eyes continuing along to trace the space for what, she wasn’t certain. She didn’t want to get in the way of Plo’s process so she began to walk around slowly, searching for anything out of the ordinary or any sign that might help them locate what was lost. Her feelings felt a bit out of whack and not entirely centered, but when sifting through the fear that still gripped the room, there were wafts of other things that she couldn’t quite name…

    Walking cautiously through a small area with a few chairs and a basket filled with child’s toys, she noted a pile of simple building blocks brought out near the center – half stacked, half still in a haphazard pile. Curiously drawn in, she crouched down and reached for one of the three-dimensional squares, adding it to the top of the half-formed tower. She stared at it for a moment, head tilting to the side, as if trying to interpret something imprinted on the brightly colored wood…

    Here.

    Syren twitched and blinked, her eyes reopening to have already shifted in a new direction – to her left and up slightly, a side table beside the chair directly opposite her. Upon its top was a disorganized pile of flimsy, and just below it on the floor was a nondescript bag of average size. She dropped the rest of the way to her knees and crawled the few feet until she could reach it, pulling it towards her and hastily peering inside.

    What she saw warmed her somewhere deep in her chest, though not in a pleasant sort of way. It was a Call of the Void; like she was staring out from the edge of a cliff and wanting nothing more than to take that final step, and jump. Lured the rest of the way by that inexpiable urge, Syren reached into the bag and wrapped her fingers around the lightsaber hilt that resided within.

    A bright flash and everything had changed - the pharmacy had disappeared and in its place, a wide open expanse that was anything but empty. Bodies splayed out in awkward angles, littering the upturned ground beneath her feet. Screams filled the air and horror echoed in the Force to which she shot up from her crouched position, her hand catching on something as she moved that nearly pulled her back down. She looked to the hilt she held and then past it to a man, lying face up with the permanent mask of death over his lifeless face, staring up at her with his own hand outstretched... as if he had been holding the same device, right along with her.

    That's when she noticed the body of a woman coiled around his chest, also deceased. And a boy, she belatedly realized had been standing beside her, reached for the weapon suddenly with tears streaming down his cheeks...

    He looked so familiar...

    The scene shifted again, like a puzzle breaking apart and then snapping back together to form an entirely new picture. This time it was an unremarkable space made of stone, the distinct clash and hiss of lightsabers reaching her ears before the sight materialized in front of her. The same boy, now a young man, in a sparring match with another whose back she could only see. A green blade swung with skillful grace, and the pair moved closer so that she could see his face better...

    "Plo?"

    A disorienting swirl and she was somewhere else, knocked off balance by the whiplash and Syren stumbled, nearly knocking into a slightly older Plo and a young woman with red hair and soft features. They were close, beginning to embrace intimately enough that she suddenly felt as if she were intruding, casting her eyes down to find the hilt she held, also attached to his hip...

    Another blinding flash like the first and Syren was abruptly dropped back into the pharmacy on her knees, but immediately she knew it wasn't real, it was at some other time. A little boy was just before her, playing with those building blocks she had examined and beyond him was Hel, sitting in the chair beside the small table. She was visibly worried, typing something on a comm before stashing it beneath the stack of flimsy on the tabletop, knocking it off-kilter. Following, she produced the lightsaber from the folds of her cloak, stashing it in the bag and hiding it at her side...

    Hel stood and snatched the kid, her movements agitated and rushed, like she was fleeing from danger. Syren spun around to watch as the girl walked past and attempted to leave, but was stopped roughly by two imposing males. She managed to get past them and dash towards the exit, and Syren ran after her in time to see a large armored vehicle screech to a stop outside the door. Words were exchanged and a skirmish... and Hel and the little boy were shoved inside, the vehicle speeding off as soon as the hatch slammed shut, disappearing down the street...


    The vice grip she had on the hilt loosened and Syren forced it out of her palm, everything returning to just as it was before she had reached for the weapon. It clattered to the floor and the assassin leaned back and scurried away from it, knocking over the children's block toys to send them scattering out in a fan behind her. She was drenched in sweat, pulse racing, and her head felt as though it would split in two.

    "What... was that," she gasped hoarsely, forcing herself up to her feet quick enough that her knees almost buckled. With a thought the comm flew into an open hand, though she left the lightsaber alone for now and turned to call over her shoulder. "I've found something!"

    Syren attempted to shout but her throat was so dry that it came out as an uneven croak, all the same she was certain that Plo would've felt the disturbance before a single word had passed her lips.

    TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard ( @Lady Belligerent )
     
    Last edited: Sep 11, 2019
  25. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Lord Manticore
    Aboard Shuttle to Kuat, pre-flight

    Manticore listened keenly to Dark Lord Insipid’s mission briefing. It was clear that his lesser non-combat skills would need come into play, which was something that could not be helped, his feelings on the matter aside. Still, the many layers and objectives of this mission were a good challenge just the same. Already, his mind was thinking of contingencies should things go south.

    Upon hearing the holocron speak on being a ‘riverbreaker’ Manticore, gave the adage some thought and found it somewhat flawed and misleading, as it spoke of two different themes and not one. But that was perhaps something to meditate on, and maybe discuss at a later time. Who's was the female's voice, he did wonder absently.

    Darth Insipid’s brief was thorough and so were his words of caution, which were rather intriguing.

    Acolytes of the Beyond…

    Hmmm.

    The zabrak Sith Lord made up his mind to gain an audience with the Sith Emperor in due time- that is, before the window of opportunity closed for good. He needed answers on specific probabilities. Soon, soon.

    The Dark Lord inquired if there were any final questions. Manticore had many, none of them final by definition, nor imperative as it were.

    “No questions at the moment, My Lord.” He asserted with a rasp, but did raise an eyebrow slightly at the mention of an ‘apprenticeship’. The edict came as an unexpected surprise, though its true meaning was not lost to him whatsoever. But such was the way of Darth Insipid, to weave and to rend to his will. To suffuse all things with his unique intrigue.

    Leda had no questions of her own at the moment, though Manticore suspected she likely wished to discuss things in private as well, just as he did. With the Emperor and his Anzati apprentice gone to speak privately, Manticore focused on finishing with the pre-flight checks and getting the team on their way to Kuat. He was thinking of perhaps concealing his eyes with vanity lenses that would mimic those of a Sullustan, when Leda sat in the co-pilot’s chair next to him.

    “So, do you think a Kuat female and her telbun actually know each other? Or is it a 'little less conversation, a little more action' type of thing...”

    Manticore gave a small huff in response, though for a second, he did seem amused. In his mind, ‘less conversation’ was something he excelled at and would prefer over ‘social graces’-though he already knew his behavior would be determined by whichever situation they found themselves in. All things considered, it certainly couldn’t be worse than facing-off against Typhojem. Could it?

    “I’ll apologize in advance, if I am forced to treat you as anything less than your reputation requires…”Leda stated, giving him a sidelong glance. “Your
    real reputation, of course.”

    Manticore did not stop was he was doing as he indicated that she check on the external sensors and life support systems, then he answered in a casual tone.

    "Lady Shesh, unlike true respect, reputation is a societal illusion created for divisive control. It is easily gained and just as easily lost - and too often dependent on the opinion of others. It is a useful tool, nothing more. As sith, our deeds precede us, they speak for us. They can either be remembered or forgotten, but never denied. What will we be remembered for in this timeline?”

    It was now Manticore’s turn to side-glance his white haired co-pilot.

    ”Lord Insipid expects us to do what is necessary to complete our mission. We will do what is needed to succeed. There is no reputation to harm.”

    Manticore offered a slow nod then a brief pause. His eyes followed Leda’s hands as she worked the instruments.

    “I see you are familiar with piloting ships. Your husband would be pleased…” He stated simply, before adding with just the faintest hint of a smirk. “…M’lady.”


    Tag: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @darthbernael
     
    Last edited: Sep 11, 2019