Dominion A Wretched Hive - NIO Dominion of Phaeda

[Tyrell Paxxus]

There are few worlds in the galaxy that are riper with crime, betrayal, and degeneracy than Phaeda. This terrestrial ball of lawlessness and decadence makes worlds like Nar Shadda and Tatooine look like classy tourist spots. As undesirable as the planet might usually be, several favorable economic factors as well as galactic positioning that is favorable to our expansion going forward make Phaeda prime real estate for the New Imperial Order. The population of over two million will provide many able bodies for both our military and economy. Public opinion on Phaeda is mixed about joining the New-Imperial territories, with a clear divide between the populace with for and against on either side.

The Partisans for Phaedan Independence have formed a militia to resist our occupation. Through ambushes and guerilla warfare they have posed a formidable threat that has so far been successful in hindering us. Meanwhile, many criminal organizations in the Phedan underworld remain unsure of New-Imperial occupation. While many support the Partisans, others remain neutral in the shadows, awaiting an opportunity to side with the winning cause.

Objective 1: Operation Punk Weight​

Until recently, the Partisan militia has been compensating for how much us New-Imperials outnumber and outgun them by staging ambushes and hit and run attacks. Their most recent attack, however, was a heist that targeted one of the Primary Flagships of the New Imperial Naval Fleet: The Epitaph II. While the Epitaph II was set down in a surface spacedock, the Partisan militia snuck aboard by hiding in maintenance tool crates. With a swift surprise attack, they managed to steal the hyperdrive along with several other vital parts, leaving many members of New-Imperial authority stranded. Operatives of the ISB and the Nova Corps are in hot pursuit, chasing down the stolen cargo speeders that are being used to transport the stolen components all over the city.

Be advised: The Parisian militia is a cunning group of guerilla fighters. Expect traps and counter-assaults during your pursuit.

Objective 2: Operation Black Dice​

The vast number of criminal organizations on Phaeda hold an immense amount of power over public opinion. They have their fingers in just about every aspect of planetary governance and business. While many of them are split on our occupation just as the rest of the population, there still remain a large number of neutral organizations. If we are going to staunch the flow of new forces to the Partisan militia and attempt to proceed in our occupation as smoothly as possible, we'll need to win their favor. While it is normally against New-Imperial policy to negotiate and work with criminals, Phaeda is a special case. Carouse, Gamble, Socialize, and if you must, perform a job. Anything we can do to get these organizations to a Pro-NIO stance will be worth it in the end.

Objective 3: BYOO​

Go to a club, try some spices, race speeders, or even hunt horrible monsters in the sewers. This objective is limited only by your imagination and creativity. Remember to check the New Imperial database for the many holobooks on Phaeda if you require addition inspiration.

Credit to Irveric Tavlar for the objective drip.

 

[Arador Khan]

A r a d o r _ K h a n

| Location | Phaeda Slums, Planetside​

| Objective | Operation Black Dice​

​

Phaeda... Khan had many memories in the shithole of a planet. It wasn't much, but the place made for a prime spot for hunting fugitives on the loose and cashing in a quick bounty. Fortunately for him, he was on such business on behalf of the New Imperial Order; more so to gain the support of some of the criminal underworld that held much power over the population, but he could kill two birds with one stone and make a hell The Arkanian bounty hunter sat in a booth off in the corner of the bar, feet kicked up on the table as he glanced at his forearm, a communication beep coming in. A hologram of a scruffy looking individual appeared on his forearm, casting a ghostly blue reflection on his visor; Yakobe Scobar, one of Phaeda's criminal underlords that held much influence over a number of businesses and gangs on Phaeda. ​

​

" Khan...What did I say I was going to do to you if you ever showed your ugly mug around here? " Khan seemed to tilt his head up as if pondering the question before speaking, " Something about ripping out my entrails and then parading my corpse through the streets? I don't know, I get a lot of things said to me, and most of them I forget. " The man scowled as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose before muttering a string of insults under his breath, continuing on as he spoke, " What brings you to Phaeda this time Khan? " ​

​

A Rhodian stumbled by, drunk on liquor as he reached a hand out to Khan's albino Wookie pelt, " Hey there... That's some nice fur you got there, mind if I- " The Rhodian was stopped short by Khan having unholstered his blaster with his free arm and shot the Rhodian in the chest, punching a hole through the alien before he had a chance to try and steal the possession off of Khan. The bounty hunter didn't even bother to look as some patrons of the bar paused to look over before going about their business. Drunk people ending up dead was not an uncommon sight. The hologram would glance over at Khan and then the dead Rhodian before looking back, the Arkanian offering a curt reply, " Business. And if all goes well, the both of us will be very, very rich. " Scobar stared at Khan with a heavyset scowl on his face before he sighed, " Alright, you've got my attention... "​

 

[Tempest Yore]

LOCATION: OPEN
OBJECTIVE: OPEN

TAGS: OPEN


Tempest Yore has heard what was going on in these parts when the Galactic Alliance and the New Imperial Order discussed their treaty. She elected to hang out in the sector for a while because, let’s face it, you just don’t hear about this sort of revolt everyday! She wondered if it is truly some sort of Awakening or if the members of the NIO were just as dark as they ever had been with maybe a plan underway to rid them of their sinister hierarchy and reach the galactic core personally.

She witnessed a lot of activity and today of all days there seems to be quite a bit of attention drawn to Phaeda. She couldn’t imagine that these of all people would be the ones who plan to do the right thing for the oppressed. The idea fascinated her. Yet she still wonders if maybe all are not who they claim to be in this faction. Would the Knight see redemption in those most notorious, or more abundant an inherent Will to veer towards freedom or personal gain? All in all though, as she observed already, the NIO here is not the bad guy. Others are trying to stamp them out before the NIO even makes their mark on the Empire. She found it more baffling that those trying to snuff out this movement in its infancy, are not even of the Empire. The whole thing is momentous! She decided to let her suspicions slip to the wayside and dive right in to become involved in this.

This Jedi Sentinel arrived incognito, just as one of the regulars. She hated having to leave her own yacht secured within a spaceport, but she didn’t want to draw attention to her presence. One just doesn’t fly the party ship of the Core around these parts and expect her involvement to be uneventful.

She arrived on the most dilapidated of transport ships. The price for transport in itself was absolutely criminal to start with. The Force isn't typically hailed as a means to hold a space craft together, and in all her life she never thought she would ever actually do such a thing, even more need to; but she certainly meditated on her personal safety for the entire trip in.

'This is how my day starts?' she thought. 'Mother!' She wondered what Lucien Dooku would be up to these days, where ever he might be. She might try and raise him on her comm after this one…relax a little. Maybe. 'I am probably going to need it,' she thought as she filed in suit to make her way towards the hatch, where the pilot extended his hand expecting a tip for what he declared just so happened to be the smoothest flying he ever did in his whole life. Tempest retorted, "Because everyone on board was praying for their lives!" as she brushed the expectant palm aside. Nobody else tipped either, another likely excuse why his fare is so high; that, and nobody ever books him twice.

 

[Boram Predor]

// Moff Predor //
// Objective // 3 // Rally the People of Phaeda //
// Focus // OPEN //

-

-

The grimace on Moff Predor's face barely lifted, even as the beauticians preparing him for his speech finished up the final touches. The unfortunate reality of having to go out into the arid cityscape of this backwater planet was something he dreaded. A necessary sacrifice that Boram unfortunately had to offer himself up for.

"That's quite enough dear." His hand raising to push the brush away from his face. "I'm trying to look like a leader, not one of these commoner's schuttas." The disdain he felt for the people of this planet not hidden in the slightest. "I very much doubt they can see me through this disgusting smog."

Even the simple air of Phaeda made his skin crawl.

But orders were orders, and his were to rally the people of Phaeda to their side. It was a simple feat, but one that would be heard in two very different ways. To some, the Moff was bringing Law and Order to a savage planet. They would no longer have to live in the slums, worrying if the mobsters would finally come to collect and sell them. They could be lifted up into the light of the Galaxy, and share in the Prosperity of the New Imperial Order.

But to others...

The Empire was here to strip away their rights, their freedoms. An irreparable destruction of everything that they had created by and for themselves on this planet, their own sense of order being crushed brutally under the heel of the foreign Imperials.

Such people were fools...

It amused Boram how this train of thought of those that pushed back didn't realize that the Imperials owned this planet already.

The good Moff was just offering them a way to do it peacfully.

 

[Avernus]

// SOLID GOLD //​

// OPERATION: BLACK DICE //
// INTIMIDATE LOCALS, ESTABLISH AvCORP™ OWNED MAFIA, GARNISH NIO SUPPORT THROUGH FORCE //
// LEGALISE DRUGS AND MURDER //
// DRIP //
// OPEN //​

Even in the face of thirty-something blasters pointed at him from all directions, Avernus couldn't be more at ease. The Duros crime lord that floated before him gurgled and gasped, scratching at his throat desperately for even the smallest whiff of air. Big Money's hand was half-raised in a lax fashion to manifest the choking effect, his hip pointed out to the side beneath a wide gait, all combined into a flamboyant pose. His left hand held the sizzling, unstable amethyst blade of plasma by his side. Leisurely, he flourished it in slow, small twirls as the Duros kicked and writhed to its soft droning lullaby. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, scanning the people gathered around him with his piercing yellow eyes.

"Go on, shoot me," he goaded. The smirk that was plastered across his face inflected absolutely no worry whatsoever. No one would yet fire upon him, every one of the criminals still hesitating in the face of the Sith Lord. Yeezy looked around, meeting many of the gazes expectantly. Still, no shots were fired. With small movements of his wrist, Avernus sent the crime lord swinging side to side in long swaths. Many of those who surrounded them had to back away to avoid being knocked over by the Duros' flailing body. "Gotta shoot sometime, otherwise beady-eyes here is gonna suffocate." Once again, no one would fire. With small movements of his middle finger, the crime lord would begin to spin like a wheel while swaying back and forth. All the while being choked and desperately wheezing for enough air to hold on just a little longer.

 

[VK-118]

Objective: 1
Nova Squad: Lucina Centaris VK-462

Just another day for Joker. Just another rock for him and the boys to make ready for another assault upon the Sith. It had seemed that day was coming closer and closer, each new territory they swallowed up led them all closer to seeing action against the Sith, and the day on which Joker would come home to Bastion. To where the Neo Imperials would set up a true capital. He had a dream where he and the boys carried a banner of the New Imperial Order. Holding it high as they invaded the stronghold of Bastion. Then after the battle moving the capital where it rightfully belongs. For now all he could do was sigh in frustration. He was in hot pursuit of the rabble that stole valuable equipment to the Sovereign Imperator's flagship. That was something that Joker himself being a pilot took personally.

He had been running through the cityscapes chasing after a lot of them. It was his duty to recover the parts and while he could have taken the gunship. As soon as he found them they took off running. Trying anything from using meat shields to using various traps setting around the city scape. While they had only slowed him down for a short while. He was thankful for the injections of the Nanogene. With his Charric rifle dangling on his shoulder. He was running. Shoving his way past people. As a couple of them looked back and started to shoot back at him. Luckily the armor was able to absorb the brunt of the shots.

It was gonna be a long chase through this chithole of a city. For once he would have liked it to not face rabble. While the Partisans were not to be underestimated like his time against the Ravagers. He wanted some action against another military force. Not spend his time chasing after what he thought was thugs. This type of business pissed him off, and if he got the chance he was gonna beat the Partisans in pursuit. He was not stupid however. The rest of Nova Squad would be on the hunt as well. While in his sprint he spoke within the comlink as he ducked in and out of alleys. City Streets, even markets in his constant chase of them. So far no traps sighted and yet he would remain vigilant.

"J-Joker in hot pursuit of the targets. Given location to Scar and Warlock... Requesting additional backup if at all possible!"

 

[Junda]

BYOO: Relaxing in the Cantina


When it came to his old life one could say that Junda had a knack for the underworld. Remembering a time when he was a smuggler to a world like this. Over the past century smuggling all types of goods all over the place. From weapons, drugs and sometimes people that just didn't want to be found. Now here he was on shore leave. So far relaxing with his droid with him. Usually, if he wasn't drinking, playing rounds of both Sabacc and Dejaric he was arguing with his droid buddy.

Now he sat here playing another round of Dejarik an entire bottle of Corellian Brandy was sitting right next to him. As he looked at what was his Weequay opponent. It was nothing but tense silence. Both players eagerly making their moves as he looked to his opponent. Even his droid had remained silent for the time being. Knowing better not to piss the bitter Wookie off. This game had been going on for what seemed like hours now. The crowd watching.

It wasn't until he made his move that his opponent made the wrong move. With the beast piece moving forward to smash the other piece to bits on the holo board. The weequay had a look of dissatisfaction on his face. "You karking son of a Murglak... You cheated didn't you... Well you Kashyyykian Moof Milker I want my money back now!" He said pulling out a blaster pistol and aiming it right at the Wookie. The wookie responded in kind. Grabbing the Weequay's arm and as if with a gentle nudge started to pull the arm right out of the socket. The Weequay letting out a groan of pain. The arm slowly but surely being pulled off.

It wasn't before long that he was quickly being beaten with his own arm. Before the now deceased Weequay had fallen to the floor. With the Wookie giving out a disgruntled roar. As the droid started to roughly translates. "Pardon my language but do any of you karking sons of bitches wanna accuse me of cheating or shall we continue with the games."

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

Objective: Operation Black Dice.
Location: The Grand Chinesti Casino

Sometimes she just loved this lifestyle of hers. Some days she lead legions against the craven and the weak, other days she lead ships in deadly battles in the vacuum of space, but in days like these she found herself wearing lavishing outfits, accompanied by strong bodyguards, not that she needed, with brilliant jewels hanging above her neck and ears. And this time, her job was to find out about the parts of the ship, make connections, crush the opposition and spread the word the New Imperial Order… or something of sorts. Within the luxurious speeder that the casino had sent to pick her up, Lunafreya couldn't help but smile and think how funny it must be for the Imperator to have to send his lackeys to fetch the stolen parts of his ship, shouldn't the man anymore New Order's power to be the most impossible to suffer such an affront?

“Almost like a ordinary man…”, she whispered to herself, her eyes were focused on the world outside her windows. Never did she put her feet in such filth as that planet, Lunafreya had dealt with Hutts only once in his palaces and almost had the royal pleasure of throwing up in front of his immense landlords. The entire planet was illuminated and made for the simple purpose of making money, expressing its authority, exerting its influence and repeating the process again. All of that was pathetic to her, there was no power in the money, although she recognized its appeal, money served only the ones too weak to achieve their goals through strength.

This imperials lacked faith, style and charm, but they compensate that with their energic spirits and fighting guts. She was starting to enjoy this life, but she had critics and opinions on many subjects, she could be quite the aristarch on that. If she found out the location or achieved any profit for the order, she was sure to reach a position that was worthy to hear her opinions on such matters.

“We will reach the casino momentary, my princess, are you in need of any further assistance of anything else?”, The droid asked in that metallic voice that she is so despised.

“Yes, repeat to me the name of the soldier those decript hunkers on the High Command assigned to escort my royal self?”

"That would be Yieda Taar, my princess."

“I hope this time it's not a wookie. God… enough of wookies. ”, She exclaimed, passing the index finger over her temple, massaging the area gently.

 

[FN-999]

CALLSIGN: NINES
OBJECTIVE: 1 (RETRIEVE STOLEN TECH WITH FORCE)
COMRADES: VK SQUADRON ( Lucina Centaris | VK-118 | VK-462) | OPEN
EQUIPMENT: In signature
MOUNT: Elite speeder bike

It was thanks to FN-999's resourcefulness that he had obtained such a high quality mount.
​

During the horror that was the fall of Dosunn, FN-999's squad had been among a company of troopers in one of the outer districts. The major of his company, who had been distracted by the creatures immediately in front of her, was knocked off her mount by sniper fire. Then the beasts had jumped on her, and even FN-999 could do little to stop her brutal death. However, he could ensure that part of her remained useful. He had taken her speeder, and with little experience on riding such vehicles, launched himself away from the battlefield. Until recently, he had thought of such as a cowardly action. But the trooper now realized that if he had stayed and attempted to hold the ground the company was losing, he would have died just as his silver-clad major did.

In his service with the New Imperial Order, the speeder had been taken by the Stormtrooper Corps and kept for more elite specialists. However, the circumstances of the battle combined with the presence of FN-999 at the scene had called for him alone to reclaim the speeder that was never truly his.

The canvas white trooper and his juxtaposed jet black speeder soared through the streets of Phaeda at breakneck speed, hovering mere meters above civilian traffic. As FN-999's experience with speeder bikes was limited to mandatory training in the First and New Imperial Orders, he didn't trust himself to weave between traffic at such a rapid pace without blowing himself and his speeder to bits. He swerved left on an intersection in hot pursuit of the fleeing cargo vessels.

While he lacked a map to determine the exact whereabouts of the Phaedan resistance cargo ships, he could still track them effectively through other means. He simply followed the gunfire of shots engaged between the resistance group and the New Imperials. Some shots flew his way, but he quickly silenced them with the heavy blasters of his speeder. Still, FN-999's body remained tight and tense. He was not used to speeder bike combat, and could potentially be shot down even in his superior vehicle if an enemy were to use a high caliber weapon from his flank.

"J-Joker in hot pursuit of the targets. Given location to Scar and Warlock... Requesting additional backup if at all possible!"

The commlink within FN-999's helmet crackled to life as a group of troopers called out for backup. Not taking his hands off his speeder, he engaged the reply function manually.

[Joker, this is Nines. I've got a bike and I'm closing in on your location.]

A black-armored trooper rapidly came into view, the trooper engaged in battle with multiple militia soldiers who were rapidly falling back. FN-999 lowered his bike down to the level of the street, settling down slowly as to not flatten any citizens.

"Want a ride?" called out FN-999 to the other trooper. "I know this thing probably isn't made to fit two, but your armor suits this bike much better than mine."

 

[Hiram Voss]

Objective III: Operational Overwatch
Location: NIV Rapier, Phaeda's Orbit

"So you're saying sir," Lieutenant Heston Boar stammered as he strode toward the commanders seat across the command bridge, "That these rebels aren't after the vessel itself?" The bridge seemed fascinated by the exchange between the Rapier's commander and executive number two. The age gap between them roughly thirty years. Probably give more than take.

"What I'm saying lieutenant," The cool drawl of Hiram Voss' voice echoing through the command deck, "Is that with any vessel of the Epitath's size, you're gonna find the parts are more valuable than the actual vessel," He paused and clicked his tongue, "Vessel of that size? Hyperdrive's worth an easy four, maybe even five million to the right buyer." The commander leaned back, and eyed the disbelief in Boar's gaze, "You mightn't believe it, but for a lotta these rebels, economics take point over any strategic goal or political zealotry."

Boar seemed a little insulted by the commanders point. "Surely sir, the Epitath in whole, one of the finest vessels operating today is far more viable than any and I mean any value taken by stripping parts." The lieutenant stood his ground and stood tall before the obsidian command chair, "The propaganda value alone of seizing and commandeering the pride of our fleet immense, is it not?"

"Propaganda doesn't mean scat, if you don't have scratch to back it up with." Voss cocked his head to the side, "I doubt they've enough men down there to crew the damn thing, and if they did, I doubt we'd let it fly." He shook his head, "No. I think push come to shove, we'd lock down the damn sector, send a boarding party or if worse comes to worse, blow the damn thing." Boar seemed a little shocked by the insinuation, and yet Voss continued, "With the hyperdrive and auxiliary parts, you've got a guaranteed buyer and components easily disassembled and dispersed." Voss then narrowed his gaze, "Which is why we have to keep an eye on the situation and keep any wayward vessels from leaving this system." He leaned forward slightly in his seat eyes locked on the lieutenant, but also keeping the whole command crew on edge.

"Are we clear?"

 

[Vaulkhar]

​

// Lord Executor //
// Location // Chinesti //
// Objective // Black Dice // Answers //
// Focus // Spencer Varanin //

---

---

Deep within the backstreets and alleyways of Chinseti, a humble restaurant stood nestled away, mostly forgotten, but well-traveled by those more accustomed to the Life. It wasn't uncommon for the seedier types to wander in from time to time, seeking out information for trade. As with most dens of debauchery, someone or something eventually found themselves at the top, calling the shots to low lives and criminals trying to make a quick credit. That kind of reputation drew the attention of more specialized workers, like bounty hunters and pirates, who had the income necessary to best make use of this local crime boss's network of talents. Whether or not anyone was genuinely aware of the established way of things, everyone played a part in its creation and continued existence. A complete chain of command from start to finish brought about by the natural tendencies other sentients had to follow the strong.​

​

The Lord Executor often wondered if they were even aware of what lives they lived and what they did. So many found themselves dragged into a lifestyle they couldn't think to avoid due to their ignorance in the situation from the start. Vaulkhar Zambrano was one of those unfortunate people. He followed in his father's footsteps, chasing him down a path that eventually guided the bastard to damnation. The very thought brought an erupting rage within him, one the fallen Jedi reveled in when he tore into the simple business and raged through the establishment. It didn't take long for Vaulkhar to smash, tear, and cut his way through the ill-prepared criminals for hire, up until only the unnamed crime lord stood before the gold-plated grin. The message read loud and clear. The New Imperial Order claimed dominion over Phaeda, and business was closed. Sparing the former proprietor, Vaulkhar laid claim to the den instead, at least for the moment.​

​

Perhaps a few short hours after the Executor's arrival, a unit of stormtroopers surrounded the location, a simple perimeter established following his orders. While signs of the earlier battle remained, Vaulkhar managed to do away with the majority of the mess, such as the bodies and broken furniture. Scorch marks from errant blaster fire or the occasional broad sweep of his saber couldn't be removed, but the endeavor wasn't meant to impress. The fallen Jedi sought a secure location, away from the prying eyes of the more curious souls. A lone table decorated the center of the room, seemingly untouched from Vaulkhar's destructive introduction, alongside two chairs, each tucked in place under the table's surface. Vaulkar tugged one out and lowered himself down, a baleful crimson gaze locked on the entrance to the building. Where once a door hung, the Executor could now see the opposite wall of the alleyway. ​

 

[Trajan Fett]

// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE // Black Dice
// FOCUS // Khudak Dai

---

---

---

<"Couldn't really care."> Trajan said, knelt down by the side of a tall building over looking one of the many slums of industrial sprawl on Phaeda, fixed to the edge and dangling down by a length of grappling line which wrapped around the waist of a Devaronian thug.

"Triple! Triple!" The gangster pleaded in panic.

<"Mhm..."> The Mandalorian replied, slowly drawing the vibro-knife concealed within his boot before slicing it out and down to sever the line, sending the alien plummeting down through the urban heights to a less than glorious end in a luckily derelict alleyway.

Trajan had been among the muck, the lowest of the lows but Phaeda had a way about it of lowering the bar. It didn't have the mystique of the Coruscant underworld nor did it have the Hutt ties of Nar Shadaa. It was what made the two respective locations less than desirable without the facets which made them interesting. A true and utter shit show.

<"Guess we're working our way down."> They were at the top of a large skyscraping structure which seemed to served as an apartment block usurped by one of the many criminal organizations that lingered on Phaeda. Led by a figured known as the 'Aristocra', the venue was less than impressive. Still, disarmed of his Drago after- well we'll talk about that later. Regardless, he was left with a pistol and whatever gadgets were fixed into his Beskar'gam.

Pressing the button to slide open the door to descend into the rest of the block, they began the raid. Loading his pistol with a fresh gas cartridge, he kept it held at the ready, bracing his right arm over his left wrist as he held a vibro-knife icepick grip in the open hand.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Wayward Master //:
//: Chinesti //:
//: Black Dice - Answering His Summon //:
//: Tags //: Vaulkhar

A cloaked figure moved through the alleyway, the Force drawn tightly around her. She understood the desire for secrecy, especially for the reason she assumed he summoned her. Their history was intertwined, and if she could do it again, she would probably change a few things except one. She would never change that one thing, and it was the only reason she was here, even giving that man the time of day. Right now, Mikhail was looking like the better choice. Footsteps stopped as she patted her smooth pale face, that was a foolish thought, several were a better choice than Mikhail Shorn - even him.​

The location that was arranged was an interesting one, Spencer wondered if Vaulkhar had missed a simpler time in their lives. Even if the man was feeling reminiscent, the smell of death and lost souls hung in the air. The whispers of the dead cried out to the woman, it reminded her of her time on Byss with Moridin. Her fear of death came from the thousands of souls the man had bound to him, continually crying to her for their release. Now, she was able to tune them out, letting their suffering touch deaf ears. Several guards in white armor announced to her that she had found him, the blazing feel of the wounded Force was a signal enough for her. The prophetic seer knew her vision had come true after all these years.​

Marching up, the look of anger creased her brow. She knew enough of the dark side arts to intimidate the soldiers if need be, but it seemed like they were expecting her. Opening up, they led her inside, and Vaulkhar sat at the untouched table. Handing her cloak to one of the guards, she entered, looking no older than when the man had first met her. The light side of the Force had excellent skincare products. Slender frame, wrapped in a white dress and blonde, almost white hair pulled back tightly in a bun.​

The former Monarch stood at the table looking down at the man who sat, her hands folded. He wasn’t the same as the man that fathered her child, he was far from it, and she hated that she knew this was an inevitable future for him. A part of her wondered if life was different, could she have changed this? Several questions ran through her mind, but one stuck out more than the others. Her voice was sharp as she addressed him, “How dare you summon me like this. After all this time, you do this.” Hands moved to address the situation at hand, had he fallen so far from the young Jedi she knew.​

 

[Volgin Alto]

Spoiler: aesthetic

// BUCKETHEAD-5// Stinkfist
// OBJECTIVE // BYOO - R&R
// FOCUS // Junda

"HEYYY- ahhh- well umm. Way a set a tone there Junda." The stormtrooper in his off-duty uniform barked out after he saw the brazenly brutal display of the wookie rip the arm clean off of the Weequay, leaning back as far in his seat as he could manage before he threatened to prop it back entirely, eventually easing back forward

"Ahh- shit." He said before settling back into his seat, reaching for his own alcohol he drank down a long draw of the sharp liquor before setting it back down on the table with a twist of his expression. Bitter taste but it made him subside the asschewing he'd get for letting the Wookie de-limb a man out in the open. Wasn't a good look for the New Imperial occupiers but...in all fairness...could they really expect him to stop a Wookie? Regardless, he had a shit hand anyway.

"Ok- hey! Let's have a nice clean game, alright? Noooo one is cheating." Well Javik was but, he wasn't playing that time either. Nor would he dare face the wookie. Everyone knew the rule.

"We got a Pazaak deck around? Could lift the mood." Hadrian suggested.

 

[Khudak Dai]

​

<< Objective II : Black Dice
<< Focus : Trajan Fett

---

---

What was left of the line swayed from their vantage and Khudak’s shoulders fell with a single huff. The noise of the gangster’s last pleas lost on the sour wind, the woman had to crane her head to catch the last sight of the alien. It wasn’t the most glorious way to go, eaten back up by the city’s shavit but Khudak wasn’t bothered enough to voice it. It was just another job.

<”You must use a lot of cables,”> Khudak coughed, reaching up to scratch the charred potshot on her shoulder’s plate. Lumbering around in a circle as she took stock of the murky horizon of the city. The woman never thought her boots would touch Phaeda soil again and she whistled to herself, it had a way of leaving a grime on your boots you’d never wash off. It had been easy to pick up work and equally to get shot for opening her mouth on the street, nothing but fond memories. Idly listening when Kurze spoke up, Khudak shrugged to herself a step behind the seasoned hunter rolling her shoulders limbering up.

<”Something something, cut the head off the serpent right? I didn’t want to climb up all the stairs anyway.”>

It was a touch casual in the face of a stomping in on a criminal circle, but compared to the senior she was walking in just her fists and a pistol to begin with. Blasters and caution were no good if a behemoth was looming right down on top of you and a cocky grin rested on her lips shielded by her helmet. Rubbing her hands together, ducking into the building after the mandalorian, she held down the left meandering along with her arms swaying at her side. The hall’s lights flickered and Khudak took a double take at Kurze's form; raising her fists hesitantly trying to appear like a professional.

 

[Vaulkhar]

// Lord Executor //
// Location // Chinesti //
// Objective // Black Dice // Answers //
// Focus // Spencer Varanin //

---

---

<"She has arrived, Lord Executor.">

A lone stormtrooper standing beside the open threshold called out, sticking his head within view of Vaulkhar's unwavering gaze. His head moved up, then down, acknowledging the brief report. The fallen Jedi straightened enough to appear presentable, though his body-language still reflected the turmoil raging within him. He searched inward, trying to calm the storm long enough to ascertain whether or not the arrival of a certain Varanin caused said emotional chaos. The fallen Jedi would not pretend he'd done everything right for the boy. Vaulkhar allowed his quest for redemption to come between what was potentially the one good thing he'd left behind. A legacy of sorts, one he'd hoped would find meaning beyond warfare and bloodshed. Yet, here he sat, awaiting the arrival of one nearly-forgotten flame.

Spencer was as stunning as he remembered, silken hair of gold, so pure it was almost white. Hazel eyes, tinged with the remnants of shadow, adding to the air of mystique and power about her. Vaulkhar could've sworn his heart skipped a beat, but such a thing proved impossible. He lacked what made a man right, the warmth within his spirit stripped away and discarded to the nether. Whatever process the Executor enacted to maintain his sentience lost to the moments of his rebirth, leaving him in the dark to it all. And if the bastard had to be honest? He didn't care enough to try and find out. The unnatural tear in the force provided him power, unlike anything he'd experienced before. Though Vaulkhar longed for the days he once held dear, laughing, and enjoying the presence of his former companions, those desires meant nothing in comparison to his quest to destroy his father. At least, that's what he believed up until seeing her again.

Rather than engage her outright, Vaulkhar allowed his vision to fade away, replaced in turn with the supernatural powers of the force. Spencer's physical form melted away, replaced by the radiant flow of energy pulsing outward. What made up her very being seemed to clash with the unnatural horrors of the living wound. The swarming dark side aura latched onto the divine glow, threatening to leech at the woman's emotions the moment she neared him. Vaulkhar narrowed his eyes immediately, the warmth in the room quickly slipping away, replaced instead by an unnatural chill. The force bent to his will, the wound momentarily abated.

"Bring him out," Vaulkhar's hollow voice escaped his lips, muffled somewhat by the gold-plated mask adorning his face. The sound of shuffling feet and struggling echoed from a back room, only growing louder as a portly Devaronian stumbled through a side door, two stormtroopers guiding the man. They each saluted the Executor before falling back, their fear visible to the practiced empath. Almost immediately, the dark one's stained aura crawled across the room, its invisible tendrils latching onto the anxious man. The crime boss appeared how you'd expect a man of his station. Jewelry and expensive clothing covered him from head to toe. His larger form spoke of a man accustomed to fighting his way through life, but the loose hanging muscle and pedigreed hands showcased a much calmer lifestyle nowadays.

"He is here for your sake," Vaulkhar muttered, his gauntleted hand moving to take hold of the mask. He tightened his grip and tugged one side, the sound of separate latches unhooking to allow the fallen Jedi to pull it away. "I'm surprised you're so offended by this, Spencer. You didn't seem too attached when you condemned me for my decision to face the Dark Lord," the mask found its way to the table, a familiar face, albeit older and worn out met the wandering master's gaze. "We agreed Errant would not be wrapped up in either of our pasts when I left for Kintan. You promised he'd remain safe, separated from the sins of his father. Yet, here he is," Vaulkhar raised a small holodevice. It showcased the young Imperial Knight in full Force Corps regalia, the recording was likely taken during a training session.

"You know I want him safe. I wouldn't have returned to complete his training beside you if I didn't," Vaulkhar's tone softened somewhat, the rigidity of his form slackening. "I stepped away from his life for his wellbeing, you know that. My connections to the Sith were innumerable. It only takes one trigger-happy bounty hunter to take him away from us. I may not have been there for him, but he is my son all the same. I want nothing but the best for the boy," his gauntleted hand slowly rose, motioning across the table. "Please sit. I have tea and food being prepared for you. If I recall," Vaulkhar looked up at Spencer. "You had a soft spot for cookies."

 

[Trajan Fett]

// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE // Black Dice
// FOCUS // Khudak Dai

---

---

---

<"Why do you think I still hunt, Dai? Gotta pay for all this cable somehow. "> A walking contradiction being that a flat 100% of his cable usage had something to do with his perilous career. But she probably...hopefully wouldn't catch that lapse. Not as if Trajan cared. Even so, it didn't matter. Avernus made sure he never had to work another job with his payout after snagging Aerarii Tithe. It was more a hobby at this point, an obligation to his roots to always be doing something. He was a man of few words and even then, as far as he was aware, he could get away with not even saying those. But he was in the business of dealing with people, a solid vast majority of criminals on the wanted list being the most annoying of them.

<”Something something, cut the head off the serpent right? I didn’t want to climb up all the stairs anyway.”>

<"Well just look at you."> He said, those were all but his lines start to finish. She was learning quick. Even so, as they delved into the compound. With the lift at the other side of the corridor prying open to reveal a pack of gangers, Trajan narrowed his eyes before peering down the sights of his pistol once more.

"Fuckin' mandos! Get em!" The Zeltron seemingly in command of this particular pack of degenerates barked out, pointing a finger at the two Beskar clad hunters as if there was literally anything else that might draw their attention in the dimly lit, graffiti covered apartment floor.

Regardless, that voice was snuffed out quick when a sonic round caved in his ribcage from Trajan's pistol, even so they were on him quick as they sought out the pair with power maces, vibroblades and axes as their means of dealing death. He sawed through one of their throats with the blade clutched in his left hand before he plunged it into the back of another, his focus diverting momentarily to slam another sonic round into the shoulder of a nearby ganger. They were in it now. About a dozen henchmen deep already.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

// VANDAL // ISB
// OBJECTIVE // Black Dice
// FOCUS // Avernus | OPEN

No one wanted to say it. Everyone knew it. Part of any successful government came with a union of the public and private sectors. Government. Order. Security. That was the bedrock, the cake if you will. Corporatism? That was the icing. You could have a cake without the icing, you couldn't really have the icing without the cake. Well...you could, but you really shouldn't. Ah well, who gave a shit.

Berik was a clone after all, a year and a half old and about twenty seven years young his opinion didn't matter all too much. He was one of few? One of one? It didn't matter, all he knew was that he raised up and trained with a specialized set of skills. Espionage. Infilration. Exfiltration. The usual suspects that came with being in the New Imperial ISB. Granted, it was more militarized than it might've been originally perceived generations prior. Totalle krieg had a way of doing that.

Even still - Phaeda was a street to street campaign of shaking dirty hands where they could find them or lopping off heads where they couldn't. Classic street to street city wide purges. The best means of Imperial subjugation that didn't rhyme with homicide.

"Let him goooo, Sssssith." The Trandoshan goon sounded off to the Pureblood before the foreboding beeps could be heard behind them.

Beep

Beep

Beep

And a door breaking charge shattered the durasteel panels and plating in a violent thermite charged eruption, sending it promptly into the back of the reptilian before a loud rip of emerald rapid fire charric bolts from an AK-57 snapped at the air into the backs of the gangers enveloping Avernus. While the smoke was still thick in the room, it seemed he had help.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Wayward Master //:
//: Chinesti //:
//: Black Dice - Answering His Summon //:
//: Protective Mother //: Vaulkhar

His gaze upon her entering had made her feel something, it was a feeling she hadn't felt in almost sixteen years. Almost instinctively, her arms folded in front of her chest, wanting to turn away and order him to stop looking at her. He had lost that privilege long ago, even then remembering who he was and what he had stood for. The woman couldn't help but find herself looking upon those memories with fondness. Their child, the thread that forever kept them bound to each other no matter how much she tried to distance herself from him. She knew that this meeting was about Errant, the boy she went through great lengths to hide away from him when he left Eshan for Kintan. The world felt empty without him, at least she had their son - through him, her purpose was found.​

Despite the warm emotions and memories, there was a coldness in the room. Being so close and enveloped in the Force, Spencer could feel the wound pulsating with hunger. For what it wanted to feed on, she couldn't put her finger on. A being created in such a way as she knew this type of hunger only sought to destroy her.​

Seeing what he had become, the ice around the former Eshan Queen's heart began to melt. Watching the wound feed on the gangster broke her heart more than it frightened her. During her lifetime, she had seen some horrible and terrible monstrosities, but this - what Vaulkhar had become- shattered her heart. It seemed the men around him knew what was happening, or she assumed they did. The feeding wasn't grotesque, but it was from what she could feel was a slowing drain.​

The velvet sound of Vaulkhar's voice drew the woman's attention from the mobster. Hazel eyes rested on the one human man, one that she dared say she once loved. As he said her name, the woman's anger dissipated, and she was left with only the memories she held dear to her of their short romance. Vaulkhar went straight to the point, their son, and the actions that followed the youth.​

"I kept him safe Vaulkhar, I kept him hidden away far from you and the Sith. Away from your family and your father." The warmth the woman felt was gone as she pulled herself together, not falling victim to their shared memories. "You left us, and I did my best keeping him protected." A hand went to her forehead, shaking slightly as she remembered the way Errant would ask where his father was, question what he did wrong to make his father leave and how Spencer didn't have the right answers for the boy the end she wasn't enough for him. Her heart continued to break till it was too painful to bear, she fought her own emotions, using her hand to hide the shadow of guilt and sadness that haunted her life.​

"You didn't have to hear him Vaulkhar, you didn't have to hear him praying for your return and safety. You didn't have to answer the questions he asked about you. He wanted his father by his side so badly it--" The hand that was covering her gaze from him fell over her mouth. She took the seat, not for the food and tea, but because she suddenly felt like breaking down. Her child suffered, and there was nothing she could do about it. A deep exhale from the noblewoman cleared her throat, choking back her emotions and returning to the strength she had come in with. She was interested in the cookies, and he was right. She had a soft spot for them.​

"Cookies aren't going to get me to forgive you." Pausing, the woman continued to use the silence to keep herself together. "I want the best for him too, but he grew more and more like you every day. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't change him." Her eyes fell upon the face staring back at her, the boy looked so much like his father and had that steeled determination to get what he desired. "He's too much like you, I think when I couldn't give him any more answers - he made up his mind to find you."​

"It pains me to say this, but Errant needs you more than you or I want to think. He can only be so satisfied with his father's stories, I just- I just don't want him to become a Zambrano, I don't want him to have that legacy thrust upon him." A single tear threatened to fall from her eyes as she looked upon the boys' face, never had she loved anything more than her children. Yet, Spencer Varanin never cried, and she pushed back the tears, keeping herself as together as she could. "I wasn't enough, he's our precious child Vaulkhar. I don't want him in this war, but I can't keep him from it like I couldn't keep you from it." ​

Spencer forced a smile on her face and shook her head. "I wasn't enough for either of you." ​

 

[Khudak Dai]

<< Objective II : Black Dice
<< Focus : Trajan Fett

---

---

Kurze’s obsession with cables had Khudak smothering her chuckle, waste not want not but what the man did with his credits was hardly her business. It was more then she had heard him speak since worming her way on to the job, young gun aside. Enigma wasn’t the word she’d use for the bounty hunter, all the covert were the better part strangers. Cables though..it just didn’t seem like the sustainable option in her mind-maybe he just liked tying people up..But she could easily pick up a handful of rations in place of replacing equipment like that-swiveling her helmet she glanced over her shoulder forgetting the string of jokes..The trashed out building was quiet and her shoulders were tensing in wait.

<"Well just look at you.">

<”Wait..look at what? Is there something-”> Khudak balked, stopping as her brows pinched. She checked her nine first, aware of the commotion at the end of the hall but she was busy glancing down to her beskar’gam. <”is there something on me chief?”>

Any protest was garbled and swallowed up as she exhaled, tossing in a careless ‘whatever’ as the Zeltron announced the fight. One exacerbated shake of her head following as she slapped her fist into her open palm forgetting the hunter. The fun had arrived with toothpicks to boot and the woman lumbered forward to meet them, rather vocal as she stooped low letting the mace pass overhead. Hands grabbing at the thug’s legs and yanking them up, slamming the fool to the floor with a..ugly crack silencing his scream. Following up with a swift kick to his head, her body twisting to catch the wrist of another assailant, an iron like grip struggling as he waved a knife in her face.

The woman grumbled twisting and hauling him over hip in to the drywall..repeatedly, destroying the work of art sprayed across it-flecks of the stuff falling to the floor. Sparks caught the corner of her eye and her arm jerked back under the blunt force, the edge of another blade catching her shoulder's beskar and she dropped her quarry. Reeling back her good arm and punching the man's face point blank, blood splattering across her screen. They just didn't stop coming..but the woman was laughing, it was fun.

<"That's three for me chief and counting!">