Dominion A Fistful of Credits | Sith Empire Dominion of Gromas

[Eye of Solomon]

Objective: The Blood Moon Brawl
Location: On dat Blood Moon

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Once Wo had discarded his robe, he was surprisingly lithe and agile amidst the claustrophobic halls of the abandoned mine. He charged ahead of the Legionnaires who had accompanied him directly into the jaws of the enemy's trap, each of his six lightsabers burning bright in his clawed hands. He hung back at his sides lazily as he sprinted forward, his senses reaching out to detect danger before it reared its ugly head. Then his arms would move, almost of their own accord, to protect himself and his soldiers from laser fire.

"My knowledge of old mines is rudimentary, ksk ksk ksk, but I believe we are near the communication relay."

And near they were, as the resistance to their deep probing grew more intense. Refurbished battle droids from a dozen defunct governments barred their path, their armor adorned with crude paintings of starbirds and other rebellious iconography. Some of these droids were even upgraded with cortosis-weave plating, a lesson that was painfully taught to Wo as he was battered by a piston-powered backhand from one of the larger droids. In his anger, the Harch Sith flung the droid against the far wall and crushed his cranial unit with the Dark Side.

Launching back into action, he held off the advancing bands of battle droids while his Legionnaires piled into the comm office and began to make heads and tails of the old and certainly outdated equipment.

 

[AMCO]

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Objective III: Hutt Wrangling
Interacting With: [member="Ishana Pavanos"] & [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]
Nearby: [member="Hundan Dashi"]
Post Number III

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Eyes bulging, the Rodian furtively looked around for potential witnesses. "Don't... please don't talk about him like that. He has quite the temper - and around here his word is law."

Chuckling mirthfully, the smartly-dressed Knight shook his head. "Oh, but that's where you are wrong, my servile friend. The moment the Sith Empire turned its gaze in his general direction, his word became a, ah, secondary source. At best." Quirking his head at the barely audible hum of a blaster discharge and the feelings that surrounded it, he smiled softly. "Perhaps a display of Imperial Justice is in order?"

While striding off in the direction of the canteen he had passed soon before - what was it with lowlifes and canteen-shootouts? - the Corellian suddenly stopped, cocking his head as if listening to a tune unheard by most, allowing Beexl to catch up to him. "My Lord, please. The crowd can get a bit rowdy, but we've got mercs to keep things from getting out of hand, we are more than capabl..." Silencing the Rodian with a single patronisingly raised finger, Adrian clucked his tongue softly. "No. No, I don't think so. The matter is already in capable hands." Smiling softly, a predatory glimmer in his eyes, he moved towards the open door, pushing aside a Twi'lek making a timely exit.

"In fact, something tells me this might be instructional for all parties involved... not to mention a jolly good show."

 

[Hundan Dashi]

Objective 3.5 -- Amusement​

New frenemies: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] [member="Ishana Pavanos"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]​

Post number 2, in case folks are counting​

Location: A private booth in the Dented Can. What a dive.​

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The slicer supreme frowned as he heard blaster fire. The slave riots already began, and now some lunatics were cashing in a bounty? He glanced at his compad. 1575/2200. It wasn't ready. Not yet. Still, his 'fleet' wouldn't be enough. He sighed and stood up, putting the device in his satchel. He slowly walked out of the booth, tightening his gloves. Shock gloves, solid leatheris and circuity. Did he have enough weapons on hand? He watched as the two women fought off--hold the fething comms, that was Dexxy Parvonis. That Devaronian dump truck of an amoral punk tried to stab him over a completely fair sabacc game. He had it coming. He smiled at the two woman.


"Really now, Dexxy," he said with a nod, "You really shouldn't chase after such nice women in this neighborhood. They're obviously smarter than you," he said with a grin. A few more minutes. If he could put a cover on this boiling pot with a silver tongue long enough, he could get to the roof when it went to Chaos in a handbasket, provided nobody else showed up. That'd be decent enough of a plan, right?


Of course, the galaxy was both perverse and dumb, so not bloody likely. Still, he had to try.


"Name's Hundan. Don't suppose we could end this little display here, before the local muscle decides to come in and make it worse?" He knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try. A few more minutes. If the building could hold on for just a few more minutes, he could make the heist of the decade.

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

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Objective I
Post 3

Okay, there was something she was saying, but that was somewhat lost in the growing intensity of the firefight. Beneath his helmet he rolled his eyes, it would be the time that he brought freakin' revolvers that the fight ended up more intense than he planned on. Well there was a more simple solution to this at least...that came in the form of the underslung grenade launcher. Using the millimeter-wave radar, infrared, and lifesign sensors, he pinpointed a small grouping of rebels that were quite intent on making sure they were full of holes within the next few seconds. And then there was the Mandalorian looking guy, @Ordo. This day just kept getting better, huh?

"Yea, far as I know there ain't a bounty on my head. So I'm not looking to fight you for no reason. Let's just get outta this place in mostly one piece and I'll buy the drinks at the cantina afterwards. Deal?"

It may not have been the most tempting of deals, but it was all the Corellian thought of in the moment as he was finishing the calculations for the grenade shot. Next thing he knew he was being tapped on the shoulder as a signal to get in the minecart. Why the hell not? Couldn't be any worse than an emergency landing...right? Or could it? Either way the firing angle was finally displayed on his HUD as he raised the pistol to the requisite height he sent the grenade downrange, hopping into the cart immediately after. The explosion would at least give the attackers a moment of pause as they wondered what in the Force just exploded, at least it would if any survived. He had something to say to Fiolette but found that quickly gone from his mind as the cart started moving. It was a slow thing at first, and then everything got faster. A lot faster. He was just thankful for the magnogrip soles on his boots as they activated while the cart sped up. It was going to be much harder to hit things while moving like this, but that didn't stop him from shooting when he got the chance to.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Location: Securing the mine/Testing

"We've secure all entrances and exits from the mine, my Lady," the commander of the security forces stated. Taeli was standing in the middle of the administration building's command center, eyes flickering over the displays. In the face of the forces she had brought, the enemy hadn't even deigned to fight them on the surface. She assumed they thought themselves safe in the mine, likely preparing ambushes and hardpoints to make her losses appalling.

But she wasn't going to give them that chance.

"All emergency vents have been sealed as request," one of the technicians reported. "All ventilation is under our control. We have an ideal test environment now. Shall we deploy the sensor drones?"

"Proceed," she replied. Dozens of small sensor drones would be deployed into the mine, all of them designed to scan and record what was about to occur to the criminals that dared occupy part of the Lady of Secrets' holdings. At each air inflow shaft, the Order of Shadows Adepts and the Aurora Security forces were setting up the Seefeuer canisters. Personally she would have liked to test the liquid form of the weapon as well, but they didn't have access to the water storage tanks in the mine without going into them.

"I hope this weapon is as devastating as promised, Wylev," she commented to the Melitto standing next to her. The insectoid didn't verbally respond, but she understood the gestures he made to make his point. It would be everything she could hope for in a bioweapon and then some. With that encouragement, she gave the order to unleash the gas.

A neon green gas would begin to be pumped into the mine, billowing out of the ventilation. Now they only had to wait for the screams to begin... and end.

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

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It didn't take long for the cameras to lay eyes on Ishana, and Gorra could see why people wanted the head of that one. She had quite a few pucks out for her head, Sotta the Hutt was owed a large sum of money. Gorras gave the order and from behind [member="Adrian Vandiir"] came several brutes, a Cyborg, former First Order fellow, two Weequays, and at least three Gamorreans. "Babe." Ishana motioned just as another bounty hunter showed up at the entrance. "What is this? Collect on Ishana day?" Without another word, she ducked behind a table as the bounty hunter shot a disruptor bolt toward her the table disintegrated. "Oh, they're not playin' around today."

A flick of her wrist as she let her blaster sing for her. It moved past a patron and landed square into the leg of at least one of the Weequays. By this point, things had gone full tilt and whatever it was that [member="Hundan Dashi"] had tried to say fell on deaf ears. If people weren't shooting at Ishana then they were in the middle of a brawl as the Cantina had gone haywire. Chairs were lifted up and slammed onto other people and anyone with a right sort of mind would escape. "Is this a bad time to say I'm with the Empire?!" Ishana shouted across the floor toward anyone who would listen. The other Bounty Hunter, the one with a disruptor yeah he was gonna be a problem. Ishana at the very least ran toward the jukebox grabbing a fistful of coins she jammed one in and slapped it before jumping behind the nearest booth.

[member="Kaalia Pavanos"]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eunvqql9--A[/media]

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Objective: The Blood Moon Brawl
Location: On dat Blood Moon

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Wo rammed his lightsaber through the chassis of another battle droid, sparks exploding out from the ruptured metal as he yanked the blade free. Another droid was thrown against a bulkhead, smashed to bits on impact with the reinforced wall. In the ensuing fight, Wo had found it more prudent to dispatch as many droids as he could with the Force rather than with his blades. He still used his lightsabers to deflect oncoming blaster bolts, but several of them were rendered inoperable thanks to the cortosis plating some of the battle droids possessed.

One thought ran through his mind as he fought purely on instinct, where had these seditionists managed to get their hands on so much Cortosis? Scratch that, two thoughts ran through his mind. Where did these battle droids keep coming from? The tide was seemingly endless!

A legionnaire appeared behind Wo as he sent another pair of droids to their doom down the hall, "My Lord, we've repaired some of the communications. It appears that all frequencies are blocked, except for one. It's some sort of droid control signal, Lord. It originates off-world, somewhere in the moon belt around the gas giant. We think it's coming from a ship. The receiver is located several levels down in what appears to be a maintenance bay."

That would explain why they hadn't encountered any organic foes so far, this had been a cleverly laid trap to ensnare them. Now all that was left to do was break the trap entirely.

"It appears we are on our own, ksk ksk ksk. Assemble the men and follow my lead, we will destroy the receiver and then deal with their ship."

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Location: Securing the mine/Testing

The criminals and rebels within the mines were curious about why the Sith had sent small sensor drones down into the phrikite mine instead of sending their troops down. They didn't care about the lives of their men. Why hadn't they been thrown into the meat grinder they had created along the various tunnels and chambers? And that is when the first men noticed the green gas coming out of the vents.

"What is that?" one man remarked, edging closer to the slowly growing gas cloud. He found out a moment later when he breathed in some of it. Blisters started to form almost instantly... and the screams from deeper down in the mine began as the rest of the men realized what it was. Poison gas! It was coming out of all the vents now, billowing out in ever increasing clouds of death.

The first man fell to the ground, convulsing, blood streaming from the edges of his eyes, his nose, his ears, his mouth. His fellows ran, trying to escape the green death, leaving him behind... except for a few of those annoying sensor drones. They hovered above him, scanning lasers passing over his body as the necrosis set in. His last thought was that the Sith who owned this mine was using them for a science experiment.

In the control room of the administration building, Taeli was fascinated by the readings her drones were already picking up. Death within moments of exposure.

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Objective I: Crush some Resistance
Location: Old GMC mine
Allies: [member="Eye of Solomon"]

The rebel fighter was alone in the drafty and cramped tunnel; power cells dropped from an open bandolier as he fumbled to reload his rifle. He blinked back tears of frustration. Too inexperienced. What was he thinking? Cursed unwieldy energy weapons. Why hadn't he went with a tried and true slugthrower? What was he even do-- A heavy thump and a flash of sunlight from behind. He wheeled around, power cell and rifle in separate hands. The figure before him was silhouetted by the light emanating from the old ventilation shaft, the hollows of its arms providing an outline of wires and metal. Shaky breaths escaped him, and the rebel took a step back as the armored intruder walked closer. He could see his young face in the black mirror of the domed visor, mouth agape and eyes terror-stricken. The intruder stopped as they hovered over him; cybernetic hands reached with a clicking grasp and gently took the gun and power cell from his hands.

Click. Chak-- vewm.

The rifle pulsed to life and was handed back to the rebel with care. The young man's face went from one of dreaded awe to a grateful smile. Breathing a relieved sigh he took the weapon, studying it with a hurried glance before looking back to his savior, "Oh gods, really I can't thank you enou--" The boy wasn't wearing a helmet, not that a measly rebel helmet could have kept her two fists from meeting between his ears. The force of impact severed the middle portion of his head from its jaw and the rest of him crumpled to the floor. Cara flicked the matter from her durasteel hands. Stepping over both rebel and rifle she made her way toward the sounds of blaster fire.

She flexed the red-stained fingers. Reinforcements to her knuckles proved sufficient for organic opponents but it was time to test them on thicker targets. The opportunity presented itself when she exited the tunnel.

Clang!

"Excuse me, didn't see-- hey!" Cara stepped back and swung an armored leg into the repurposed B1 battle droid, tossing it into the wall. Blaster fire poured from the tunnels as more droids emerged, their focus on a target south of her position in the hall. She saw sweeps of red cutting through the swarm but couldn't identify the wielder. No matter, it was time to work.

She opens a channel from her helmet's comm, "Dorniarn here to lend a hand. How's the situation?" With a deep breath she centers herself to channel the Force into those cybernetic limbs. She begins to engage the enemy without reservation, throwing plotted punches and anticipating the machine's programmed tactics. It was a repetitious dance with no flair, the droids proving a dull partner for one skilled in Echani. But still their numbers swelled and continued to pool within the shrinking space. Cara pulls a reserve of the Force into herself then sets it off, the small blast repulsing enough of the droids to allow a gap to escape through. She was closing the gap between herself and the Sith legionnaires and continued to dispatch droids as she went, reflecting a few too-close-for-comfort blaster bolts with a shielded arm.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Since Concord Dawn, she had spent a lot of time fighting beskar-clad barbarians and crushing her way through the formerly Mandalorian systems. The graug had fought by her, growing in experience and ferocity from battle to battle; her crownguard growing in loyalty and devotion. Now, they were stuck in a fierce battle, deep under ground.

Explosions and bolts of plasma seared through the air, causing flashes of light upon impact.

"Nyashjontû Wo!”

Joycelyn shouted as Zaudraka cleaved through the gap of an armour and sent a helmeted head spinning with a spray of red. And following her shout came an echo, a chorus:

"Imperius!"

She pointed to the makeshift fortifications.

"Imperius!"

A barrage of rockets crashed into the doors, sending ash and dirt rising in plumes, and debris crashing down on the cave floor. The doors swung aside, crumpled and scorched like paper.

"Destroy the rebels!"

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Kaalia, surprisingly, was quite glad her words had fallen on deaf ears. The thought of letting the two devaronians walk away was a very unsatisfying one. Now, she could let them be an example for anyone else with similar ideas. Hundan's words didn't do much to change her mind, either. They had started this mess, so they were responsible for what was about to happen. Actions had consequences, always, and the consequence of crossing a Sith Lady was death. Kaalia wouldn't even waste a single word on a response. Her actions would say more than enough.

From one second to the next the redhead went from walking speed to inhumanly fast, and with two flashes of red the devaronians were both sliced in two. As if on cue, however, more goons of whoever wanted Ishana's head began streaming into the Dented Can. She turned towards the entrance.

"They really are audacious," Kaalia replied to Ishana's remark. "Keep your head down, Miala. I don't want to mess up your hair." Even though they were inside a building, everyone in the Dented Can would feel a gust of wind rush past them, but the gammorrean right in front of Kaalia was hit by a blast of wind that was much stronger. It overwhelmed him, causing him to stagger backwards. The woman closed the distance and with a precise slash of her lightsaber she separated head from body.

By now a number of blasters had shifted their target towards Kaalia, forcing her to focus on deflecting the bolts rather than move to another would-be collector of Ishana's head. While stationary she rapidly angled her blade to block and deflect the incoming blaster fire. She would have to look for ways to take out Sotta's goons from a distance, until then the blaster bolts essentially pinned her down.

Ishana Pavanos | AMCO | Hundan Dashi ​

 

[Lark]

Location: Gromas Belt
Objective: Gather Intel
Nearby: No one

Lark patiently waited for his contact, drinking rum and attempting to look as little like a Sith as he could. It wasn't hard, he made a habit of fitting any role that he needed to. As such information gathering was second-nature for him, as easy as killing. Instead of his familiar black garb or florid robes, he donned dirty slacks and and a ragged, faded-black vest. No one paid him any undue attention, he was just another stain amongst the filth. He'll be here soon, Lark thought, letting the rum do its work. The most subtle of actions were required to blend in perfectly, but you couldn't appear as though you were trying to hard. Fortunately, a childhood spent near pirates and smugglers taught him their behaviors.

"Y'know the white rum's more fancied around here than the spiced around here, don't cha? Ain't that your whole thing, blending in?"

The coarse voice came from behind, Lark's nameless pirate contact. The man was rough around the edges and scum through and through, but he was much more than he appeared. From their first meeting he refused to tell Lark his name, and for all his searching Lark had never been able to identify him. His arrogant smile never left his face, but for all his cockiness the information he provided to the Empire was always accurate. "All men have their quirks," Lark responded quietly.

"Aye, suppose that's true." He took a seat, crossing his legs on the table and enjoying a beer that was far to rank for any of the more noble gatherings Lark had been to of late.

"Never did quite understand these races," Lark admitted, watching ships veer through the asteroid fields. "I suppose I just don't understand the thrill that comes with it."

"It's cause a blind hutt with no arms can pilot better than you, mate. Finer fliers can appreciate what them folks are doing. Same goes for pit fights. You seen plenty of combat with the Sith, yeah? The rush they all get from soaring through space is the same you get when you slit some fool's throat."

The pirate was the only one in the area who knew that Lark was with the Sith, and one of the only people that knew more about Lark than he did them. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit, but the man was to valuable a resource to throw away. His connections were astounding, as was his transparency with the Sith. Wealth does not motivate this man, nor does any semblance of loyalty. What is it that you're truly searching for, nameless one? Who are you?

"Anyways, got something you might like. That band of smugglers that's been pissin' your wizards off? Buddy of mine mentioned they're profiting off races like this, they've got some hotshot pilot who earns all the winnings, spends 'em on weapons and drugs that he sells in Sith space. His name's Devko Raymat, he's out there flying right now."

Lark nodded, sliding a handful of credits across the splintered table. "Well then, I suppose it's time that we arrange a little accident." But before Lark got up, he lingered a moment longer. "Any word on Papirs?"

The man at least had the decency to look ashamed. "All I know is that he's hellbent on stayin' away from you and the Sith. But that cur's hated throughout the entire galaxy, nowhere is safe for that bastard. Sorry kid. He ain't gonna be in a spot for long before something chases him away."

"I figured as much." Tracking Assim Papirs down was a near impossible task, which only encouraged Lark even more. The man who sold his sister would pay the price, Papirs' cowardice only delayed what was already set in stone.

 

[AMCO]

Objective III: Hutt Wrangling
Interacting With: Ishana Pavanos, Kaalia Pavanos , & Hundan Dashi
Post Number IV
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As the cantina descended into madness and death, as a glacial smile spread across the young Knight's aristocratic features, the Rodian seneschal froze, a moment of horrified realization spreading across his features. The Sith diplomat had been looking for an excuse, any excuse, and he just got one.

Winking at the white-haired nobody and his doomed attempts to calm things down, Adrian twirled his fingers in an intricate pattern and uttered a single fell word. Across the room, a heavily armoured Bounty Hunter foolishly trying to line up a disruptor rifle with the embattled Sith Lady suddenly twitched, then turned his weapons upon his own allies, ionized plasma shredding flesh and armour with equal ease.

Turning to face the panicking seneschal, the Knight raised a finger to his lips. "Hush, hush, little gnat. I would prefer to keep you alive..." Eyes gleaming, he shrugged. "After all, it would be useful to have someone with local knowledge around... once that treacherous worm Gorra is handled."

 

[Malsifera]

Objective: The Blood Moon Brawl / Post 1
Purpose: Elimination
Enemy: A pocket of Resistance forces and refugees
Nearby: None / Force Sensitive(s) sensed

A chain is only as strong as the weakest link. And some of those weakest links tend to be serious blabber mouths. One drink too much, one ego too great, and the road to Hell is set in motion. For a trained spy, it isn't all that hard to filter the nonsense out to find the gems of information, and what little on crucial information was left unsaid is quickly extracted under a couple of... persuasive suggestions. Having extracted the coordinations of one of the Resistance groups, Malsifera had made it her personal task to see them eliminated. The refugees seeking shelter with them; those who had been promised a better life as it were, would be too unfortunate to have chosen the wrong side of this little game. The number settled within the pocket of the mines were too much for the Witch alone, but it wouldn't have been Malsifera if she had no means to deal with the odds. Dhatomir Magicks, poisons. Creating a poisonous fog was merely a matter of knowing the proper chants. The weak would perish as the fog took hold of them; the strong would be sufficiently weakened for her to finish them swiftly. With that plan in mind, Malsifera was now on her way to settle the score.​

The mines itself were nothing to scoff at. The coordinations were there, but the number of halls, rooms and unexpected twists didn't make it all that easy to find them. She had taken a rickety elevator downwards into the abyss, the Force making it more than clear that was the road ahead. Now in the barely illuminated depths of these mines, a sense of disorientation pervaded the area. Confusion, the lack of purpose. Miners droning on and on as they chipped away at the stone corridors. The area was rife with the residue of the mind-numbing sensation the countless slavers had left behind. Clearing her head, Malsifera threaded forward. Deeper and deeper into the darkness, following instinct and sound alike until she'd find her targets.​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The rush of battle was like a vacuum that pulled her in through those crumpled doors. She felt a plasma-coated slug bounce off her helmet, and another ricocheting off her breastplate. Another caught the graug beside her right in the eye, sending his large corpse falling back into the arms of another who threw him aside to push his way in.

Once clear of the bottleneck, they returned fire on the rebels.

The graug lined up flamers and vomited out a torrent of orange and black fire. Joycelyn pointed Zaudraka forward, and the fire turned from orange to a deep red. They stretched like fingers, then curled like snakes to slither around corners and envelop the compound. Mandalorians screamed in pain as their beskar heated up and started cooking them inside their own iron.

And then they rushed in after.

Joycelyn with her sithsword; the crownguard with their lightpikes; the graug with their blasters and heavy vibroweapons. Against beskar, they had to aim for the gaps or just employ enough force to send them reeling from the blow. That was why she had brought these monsters to the battlefield: It did not matter how hard your steel is if the flesh underneath is crushed by the stampede.

"Imperius!"

She heaved with her blade, ripping through the mandalorian's visor and turning his head to the side. Then, a vicious blow from her own phrik-clad fist sent a gulp of blood and a pair of teeth scattering to the ground. Then a last blow from Zaudraka caught her victim under the chin, parting head from shoulders.

 

[Lark]

"So, what've you got in mind? Not sure how you can arrange an accident for Raymat from here, and you sure as hell ain't flying out there. Got some magic tricks you're gonna pull?"

"Nothing that dramatic," Lark said as the duo slowly pushed their way from the bar to the central hub of the watch station. "Each of the racers has someone talking in their ear, yeah? If we can manage to hijack one of the channels, or talk our way to the crew stations and establish direct communication, perhaps we can sway them to take out the competition. A few greased palms should ensure that Raymat never reaches the finish line."

"Nearly every fella in here owes someone a favor. Why not call one in?"

Lark smiled. The man thought in near parallel to himself. "One would be foolish to neglect the will of a hutt, even if a spokesperson carried their will. A shame you refuse to officially join the Sith, one with your resources and skills would be a welcome addition. It'd pay a bit better than an informant would, you know."

"Nah," the pirate said. "Too much structure for me. Not a fan of answering to anyone other than yours truly. I'm a free man, bound by no oaths or codes. Plan on keepin' it that way. But you, kid? You're fun. Never can predict what kinda crazy shenanigans you're planning. Put in a solid word for me if your folks ever come knocking."

Is that it? The thrill and pleasure of life is all you strive for? A simple mindset, but I suppose its as fulfilling a life as one could live. If only I shared your jaunty outlook, pirate. Perhaps then I might find that peace that has eluded me for so long.

 

[Malsifera]

Objective: The Blood Moon Brawl / Post 2
Purpose: Elimination
Enemy: A pocket of Resistance forces and refugees, a Force user
Nearby: None / Force Sensitive(s) sensed

Long were the winded paths. One tunnel leading into another. Voices died away as she moved deeper still into this immense network of tunnels. Dug by hand. Dug by machine. Dug by some giant worms. All in all an impressive work of underground art. An understandable reason as to why the Sith were interested in this section of space. Virtually unlimited resources; but were they truly unlimited? Moving like a shadow, vision enhanced by the force. The presences of other Force sensitive people diminished as she distanced herself from them. At the same time, the presence of the Light Side grew in strength. Of course. No mission such as this would have been so easy as to waltz in, conjure up a poison cloud and dance back out in time for coffee and pie.​

But she had the advantage. Even if they would sense her presence, she was at least one step ahead of them. When she had finally arrived there where she had to be, she had pulled the shadows closer around her. Masking her from mundane view as she observed the area. Scaffolding everywhere. Rubble, too. This place was still hot on works. Just empty of labour at this point in time. There were a couple of guards holding watch but nothing worth the challenge for any basic Force users. Even an acolyte could deal with them if they paid attention. Down on the floor stood a group of people. Refugees by the looks of it. A couple of tents set up. Artificial light keeping the darkness away. Hidden among them, dressed as civilians, were gunslingers. Their vigilance betraying them, if their blasters did not. And there, in the centre of it all, the source of the Light Side. She wasn't wearing anything that portrayed her as a Jedi, nor even anything that hinted at her having received Jedi training. Possibly a Force Sensitive person, with a natural inclination towards the Light? That, or she knew how to hide her true nature to some degree.​

It mattered not. There was a plan. A good plan capable of wiping most of this silly rebellion. If the Force user survived the dread, perhaps a lesson in the Force would be appropriate. Perhaps this makeshift Jedi could be broken. Turned towards the Dark Side. The Empire could always use new disciples in the Force. And if the girl's resolve and mind proved too resilient? Well, then she'd be in for a surprise.

 

[Hundan Dashi]

Objective 3 1/2: Hutt Hoards and Mother Boards
Frenemies in the making: AMCO Ishana Pavanos Kaalia Pavanos
Location: Firefight in a bar in a bombad day, dipping up and down all around the bends


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A Sith showed up. With goons. Goons with guns, but goon-guns or Gungans, just gun-toting goons. Well, so karking much for any of that. 1893/2200. Not enough. Were any of the forcers running around interested enough to peer into the silver-haired devil's thoughts, it would be five evacuation roots, a large amount of calculus, three seaprate ways to modify the rush towards the palace that wouldn't work because of where the gun embankments were, and a series of curses in about four languages, one of them an imperial dialect of Atrisian only a few hundred thousands sapeints still were literate in, and less than a few dozen spoke.


Hundan dashi did what any self-respecting bandit king would do in this situation. He tackled a random thug, throwing himself over the bar in the process. Most importantly, landing on the left side, where his comm-link was not. He frowned. They were still firing. Maybe if he was lucky, he could avoid any live fire. He focused, breathing in. 1915/2200. Two and half minutes? Maybe if he had a bit more processing power. The Jukebox kept going. At least this band was pretty good.



His neck moved in time as he typed away on the holocommunicator. Had to stall, had to stall. Right, yes, it was so obvious in hindsight. Simple Corellian Sabacc. Three cards and a shuffle. Don't hack the cards, just palm them. Breathe. He pulled out a paper rose, holding one hand up, the flower popping over the bar. "You don't shoot, I don't retaliate!" The forcers would know that it was truthful in intent--the man had every reason not to start a fight right now. Would they care? Probably not. Did it matter? Also probably not. But time was on his side. Yes, it was.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Standing over the fresh corpse, sword in hand, Joycelyn just barely noticed the tingle in the back of her mind: The moment of alertness before tragedy. She turned part-way, just enough to see it at the corner of her eye; the axe crashed against the back of her helm and shoulder, sending her sprawling forward. She caught herself on her hands and knees, and turned herself around to face her opponent.

There were few who could compete with Joycelyn's size, but this opponent stood well up to her shoulder and twice as dense. The mandalorian held a large beskar poleaxe in his hands, raising it up above his head to deliver another crushing blow against the Sith.

But as the hammer fell, Joycelyn threw herself to the right, tumbling out of the way with a crash of phrik on stone. She managed to get to her feet, but on the defensive as her opponent pressed his advantage with a jab of the poleaxe's spear tip. Joycelyn batted it away with her hand as she stepped back, then tried to bounce forward off her retreat with a stab of Zaudraka against his neck.

The sword met the poleaxe's shaft with a shower of sparks as her opponent wound it to the side and swung the butt of his weapon against her. She lifted her arm to catch the shaft on her rerebrace, beskar on phrik echoed through the cave, and Joycelyn let her sword fall.

She reached in and seized her opponent by the chestplate, then threw herself back and around. Her arms wrapped around her own body as she crouched and twisted then stood up and swung the mandalorian over her shoulder and into the rocky ground. The fall of the armoured champion was like the crumbling of a mountain. She brought her fist down upon him again, and again, and again, like the pounding of some divine hammer.

Red coated her fists, a broken blade protruding from the right one. She did not know when she had activated it or when she had broken it. Her hands trembled with adrenaline, but she choked it down as she curled her hands into fists and stared up at the ramparts once more.

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Objective: The Blood Moon Brawl
Location: On dat Blood Moon

"We will make our way to the nearest lift, Dorniarn. Ksk ksk ksk, and when we've reached our desired level we will advance and destroy the Rebel communication receiver." When Wo finally spotted their opening, he wasted little time in taking it. With a shout of encouragement, the arachnoid Sith lunged out from the chamber to slice the legs out from under a pair of battle droids. Thundering forward, he moved in tandem with the cybernetic Sith who had joined them until they reached the lift, piled in, and began their descent.​

​

The lift rumbled down the shaft, decades-old technology barely keeping up with the load it had born. Knight Wo stood amidst seven Legionnaires, two triads and a sergeant. They were all that remained of the Sith expeditionary force that had gotten caught on the interior of the mine, and they had no idea whether or not the half Wo had commanded protect the transport was facing similar odds. Joining them was another Sith Knight. Regardless, they had all sworn to push forward and accomplish their sacred charge in the name of Emperor and Empire. Two of Wo's arms were non-functioning, he hadn't had time to identify their injuries, and a myriad of lacerations matted his dyed fur in large clumps of blood. Though offered one of his Legionnaire's bacta sprays, the Sith Knight had refused, citing that a true Sith drew deep of their physical suffering.​

​

When the lift shuddered to a stop, and the doors opened with a creak, the group was met with another darkened hall and more battle droids looming in the shadows. Four lightsabers burned to life in Wo's hands as he somersaulted through the air to land amongst the droids, destroying several of them with lightning-fast slashes while the rest were taken down by a hail of blaster bolts. Not wanting to be pinned down as they had before, the group pressed onward with Wo leading the vanguard and dispatching of any droids that crossed their path with a shove to the side with the Force. ​

​

A large chamber loomed before them, and at its center was the receiver that they had discovered above. Bounding into the room, Wo slashed the device with all of his lightsabers, sending the machine tumbling to the ground in multiple pieces. The organic technicians who suddenly lurched to their feet at the intrusion were then quickly cut down by the Legionnaires as they thundered into the room, blasters blazing. The droids that had lingered on the edge of the room now fell silent, as did all others within the mining facility as the control signal was abruptly severed. ​

​

Manipulating one of the control consoles, Knight Wo managed to open up a solid line of communication with the ship on the landing platform. Fortunately, it appears that most of that group survived due to their more defendable position outside. Pleased, Wo said, "Prepare the ship for takeoff and alert my cruisers of a nearby rebel ship, ksk ksk ksk, I'm transmitting its coordinates."​

​

Cara Dorniarn ​