Mission Aggressive Negotiations | THR . TIC

[Brendan Varko]

B R E N D A N
V A R K O

---

Imperial Secret Service




The Confederation's Dagger







External Security







Agent Varko

---

LOCATION: Lola Sayu, Citadel.







OBJECTIVE: ENSURE Cynan Obaith is under Imperial Custody




GEAR:







RK -3 Blaster Pistol



















Plasteel Bindings (3 pairs)















Imperial Wrist mounted Commlink















Medpac containing 3 Bacta and 3 Synthskin vials, 3 vials of Somniject. Each vial has 2 doses, (it might change for different targets.)















Vibro knife











Spun Durasteel Garrote











Standard Encrypted Security pad and Code cylinder for Authorization.




OUTFIT:



Tactical armorweave compression suit



Zeyd-cloth bandana



Tan neck-gaiter (conceals face)



Podracer goggles



Black Zeyd-cloth duster



Synthweave gloves



Sound dampener ear-plug

---

Halfway to the upper tiers, the power grid of the lift flickered, a victim of the heavy strain from the ongoing battle elsewhere in the fortress. With a violent, bone-jarring lurch, the lift seized. The safety clamps slammed into the guide rails with a shriek of tortured metal, bringing the lift to a dead stop between levels.



Brendan didn't waste a second cursing the machinery. He slides the RK-3 into the holster. With a predatory instinct, he springs towards the ceiling hatch, popping the manual release with his gloves hands before hauling his own weight upward to the roof of the lift with ease.


The heavy blast doors, which were an entrance to a floor a couple of meters above the stopped lift, had opened due to a faulty emergency sensor, with a loud mechanical hiss.


The sound had attracted a lone clone trooper, DC-15S raised infront of him as he approaches the noise.


Brendan yanks his RK-3 out from the holster with one swift motion, as a response to the noise of footsteps.


The clone's eyes sweep through the dark environment, his visor helping him with spotting any details.



Brendan tried staying in the shadows of the cables, but it was useless. The clone had already spotted him.

Brendan fires off a shot completely out of guessing and instinct instead of aiming properly.


"What the--?! END O' THE LINE, IMP!"


Brendan had his RK-3 levelled at the clone, but before he could fire off again, the current silence was shattered by the rhythmic, high-pitched cracks of the Clone's DC-15S spraying.


Each blue bolt from the clone's DC-15S screamed through the air with an electric whine, stray bolts slamming everywhere.


Brendan's Stava-conditioned reflexes only carried him so far, he pounce-rolled after coiling both his legs like springs and launching himself forward to temporarily break line of sight.



Despite Brendan's flawless execution of the pounce roll technique, a bolt still hits him at the right shoulder.


The Armorweave managed to dissipate the energy of the bolt, but it still couldn't minimize all the painful effects the bolt had.


The sheer kinetic energy of the shot threatened to pop the joint from the socket, Brendan was saved only by his conditioning, barely.


Brendan slides onto the blind spot, leaning his back against the wall of the shaft as his right arm involuntary spasms and he drops his RK-3, letting out a faint growl.




The lift's cables started fraying a little bit.

Brendan waits for the cables to transition into a more steadier state.

Both of them observed their surroundings and assessed the situation to make their next move, within a third of a moment.

Thermal detonator tapes. The Clone had Thermal Detonator tapes. Brendan's mind immediately came up with a plan. The tapes were at either side of the Clone's belt.


Both of the combatants had adapted a bladed stance to make themselves a smaller target. However, Brendan utilizes the advantage of the "lower ground", crouching to make himself a smaller target for a Clone looking from above in that position.


The clone had already consolidated to a different position on the doorframe to enter line of sight for spraying again, which was exactly what Brendan wanted.

Brendan's left hand tightens around the RK-3's frame

Brendan fires off a shot at the clone's previous position with the precision of his RK-3 Blaster pistol.


"KEEP SHOOTIN' THE AIR, IMP! It's the only thing you'll ever hit--!"

The control panel erupts into molten sparks as Brendan's shot strikes true. The circuit starts to fail as a result of the shot, the heavy blast doors started closing in on the Clone like the jaws of a trap.


The Clone was crushed and gored into 2 unequal halves by the heavy blast doors.


The half containing one of the tapes fell down on the shaft, on the lift's roof, beside Brendan.


Brendan started to unclip the tape from the Clone's belt, and inspects the design of the detonator directly attached to the tape.

Brendan pulls the collar of the duster and the compression suit away from specifically the anterior head of his shoulder, where the kinetic energy had the most impact.

Brendan injects himself with Bacta, on the shoulder. The hiss of the hypo syringe was the only sound inside the cramped shaft.


Hauling himself up the cable would be barely doable, or even easy now that he has injected himself with Bacta.


Brendan pulls his weight up, ascending to reach a specific height so that he can set the thermal detonator tape on the heavy blast door. He glanced at the gored remains of the Clone, almost with zero empathy.



He uses his legs to hang on the thick, industrial durasteel cable as he pulls out the polycarbonate reel. He pressed the end of the Flex-5 Detonite tape against the door's seam. The adhesive immediately bit into the cold metal.


Brendan ran the polycarbonate reel on the door in a vertical line.



He pressed the detonator on. There wasn't an explosion, there was only the sharp hiss and the sound of the heavy blast doors finally yielding to their own weight and falling at the catwalk with a very loud noise.


CLANG-THOOM!

As the frame of the blast doors fell, Brendan leapt onto the doorframe, his RK-3 held on his right hand, and the vibroknife on his left, with a reverse grip to ensure structure behind his stabs.


He was much closer than before, he began noticing faint traces.

---

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Kirae Orade​

She started to answer him, then her tone shifted. "Down." He felt it too. A tightening in the air. A split second later he dropped to his knees as blaster fire tore through the corridor. Bolts screamed overhead and slammed into her shield and armor in a shower of sparks.

The impact rattled his teeth even from the floor. He scrambled behind her as she stepped in front of him, shield raised. Shots hammered into it in rapid succession. Slugs rang against her chestplate. The armor held. It looked like it hurt, but she didn't falter.

What is that armor made of?

The shield left her arm in a violent arc, spinning down the hallway. It hit the first trooper center mass and kept going. Two more fell before the rest scattered.

"Shoot. Them." He was already up on one knee. The Nagai leaned out from behind her and fired. One shot, adjust, fire again. He didn't think. His hands corrected for recoil automatically. He led targets without effort. White armor sparked and dropped.

How do I know how to do this?

The shield tore through the line again before snapping back toward them. They began stepping backward together, her moving cover, him firing in bursts over the rim of the returning shield.

They worked cleanly. Though he supposed the massive shield and armor helped.

Blasterfire intensified from deeper in the hall. More troops were reinforcing. He ducked, popped up, fired again. A trooper spun and fell.

"Where are your friends?" he called over the noise, breathing hard but steady. Because if this was just the two of them, they weren't walking out of here alone.

 

[Searal Nis]

Searl's face twisted in disgust at the Mandalorian as he took off his helmet, revealing a patchwork of scars and blood. He smelt worse than he looked, a mixture of dirt and a coppery tang coming off him with such a pungent stench she felt like she could see faint ripples of air ooze out of his face. "You deserve to see what's killing you." He did not need to remove his helmet for Searl to know what he was, an animal. Whatever pretense of honour or glory the Mandalorians used to justify themselves rang hollow when it was carried by men like him. But suddenly, she spun her head to see another man die, a guard just behind her was trying to sneak in a shot through his monologue. But he was too slow as the Mandalorian returned fire, dropping him before she had the chance to deflect it away. That was more death he would pay for. "No interruptions." This was just a game to him. "Korda Veydran. Clan Veydran. The Majestic Flame of Manda."


"I don't care." Searal spat out at him, refusing to acknowledge him. He could have been Mandalore himself, and she still would have denied him that. He was just an animal in a beskar shell; whatever titles or honorifics he would smear himself with could not hide that. He was all theatrics, stowing away his vibrosword for his gauntlets. "It's been too long since I fought a Force wielder." She knew what this was; he was trying to impress his peers. Killing a force-sensetive, no matter how inexperienced, was an impressive feat, and doing so with only your barehands would be song-worthy. He didn't just want to kill her, but make her death humiliating. She might have been young and inexperienced, but she was still an Imperial Knight, and she would make him pay for his arrogance.


"Show me your openings." With that, he threw a fist, a heavy right. She remembered the sting of pain from his gloves and had no intention of blocking it. He may have been a brute, but she had her speed. She deftly weaved under his arm and, with a far more relaxed grip on her lightsaber, flicked her wrist up to decapitate his arm from off his shoulder. He had left himself widely exposed, in exactly the place his beskar would have been weakest. But he was quicker than he seemed, as she ducked down to weave under the strike, he hot out a kick, which bruised even beneath her armour, sending her inches back, inches that saved his arm as her lightsaber clashed against his armbrace instead, in a flash of sparks and a plasma. But she would not let him counterattack; she would keep the offensive on her side. She ignored the throbbing pain in her leg and stood up fully, following up her strike with a horizontal slash straight for his neck.
Korda Veydran

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Naboo, Dominique Vexx' offices
OBJECTIVE: Offering a deal
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | Rackham | Cynan Obaith | Barragh Nenn | Dominique Vexx

Are you willing to make a deal?


As he passed through the vortex he had created, the Dealmaker knew it best to no longer tally too much on Cynan Obaith 's freedom of movement, no longer utilizing the force to restrain him in any way, even making things more comfortable by removing the physical restraints that still remained from his time within the penal facility by simply snapping his fingers. The cold, inhuman crimson and golden eyes turned towards Dominique Vexx for a moment, before scanning the room and noticing the level of protection she had organized for herself. A chuckle escaped his lips as he made a dramatic bow, almost like a jester, yet with the added aura of someone who wouldn't even blink and eye about massacring every single being standing in said room without even a single emotional imbalance or moral apprehension within their very core to refrain from doing something like that.

Yet, here he was...doing perhaps the impossible and probably the most unexpected thing... hand delivering the person the High Republic had now effectively started a war for. With this one mere gesture, the Dealmaker was making a clear statement, 'She' had essentially approved the death of hundreds, if not thousands on a single day for the sake of one man. her government had chosen aggression and military action against an entire government and its people over the idea of seeking out the ones who already loudly objected the cause of this matter within said government. No dialogue, no commitment to peace, tranquility and reason.

"I really don't mind war... I don't mind a fight here and there once in a while," The masked man eyed the jedi present for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle, as if to indicate he was ready to go at any given moment if this jedi wished for it to be so. "But hypocrisy... lies and deceptions which serve little purpose and defy any common sense... Now you have to admit, that's just comedy gold, wouldn't you agree... Chancellor Vexx?"

Clapping his gloved hands and letting out a louder, somewhat more sinister chuckle, the Dealmaker tilted his head into an almost impossible, practically 'painful-to-watch' angle as he looked at her, then glanced at the ambassador, and returned his attention back to her. "It's almost baffling how not one, but two governments seem to rather burn entire star systems rather than choose dialogue... yet one is a warrior culture, one who in truth had some valid claims... they were easily manipulated, but still valid claims. The joke though, is that the 'other' government opting to burn star systems and wage war... had no such reasoning, no such valid concerns... they knew who wronged them, they knew which individual to target and they could've easily known how to deal with this through proper channels."

raising one hand and pointing his finger towards the Jedi, the masked man chuckled once again. "Does this follower of the Jedi scripture and tennets know what you have done, what you have allowed to happen...nay, sanctioned?"

"So let me offer you a deal... you nor the High Republic will escape the scrutiny and the damage this will inevitably cause... but I can give you a reprieve, an accord... I have offered you your diplomat as a sweetener to such a deal...and for now, everyone in this room is still alive...that's a two for one deal already. Now...do you want to hear your options?"

​

 

[Aiden Porte]

Joseph Torson
Indirect: Mao Dominique Vexx​

Torson's men answered Aiden's approach with disciplined fire, bolts stitching the air in tight patterns meant to pin him in the open. Aiden did not stop. He turned his blade in compact arcs, catching the first volley and sending it into the ceiling where it burst in a shower of sparks that dimmed the strobing lights. He drove forward through the smoke and glare, his presence pressing down like a steady weight.

A trooper stepped out to flank him. Aiden's free hand lifted and the Force snapped the man into the wall hard enough to end the attempt before it began. Another raised a rifle at close range and Aiden sheared the barrel away, then struck with the flat of the blade's motion, dropping him without lingering. The line around Torson thinned in seconds as Aiden split their angles and broke their rhythm, moving as if the corridor itself belonged to him.

He caught a glimpse past the elevator doors and felt it at the same time, the absence where the senator should have been. The extraction had already happened, fast and clean, guided by someone from within their enemy's own structure.

Aiden keyed his comm. "Senator is gone. Evacuated from the inside. Unknown asset, possibly a turncoat or a new ally. I do not have confirmation."

He advanced one more step, forcing Torson's remaining men to backpedal under the pressure of the Force and the threat of the blue blade. The purpose of the fight had shifted. The objective was no longer here.

"Fall back," Aiden ordered, voice calm and absolute. "Our task is complete."

He held his saber low as he turned, guarding the retreat with the same steadiness he had used to attack, and led his troopers away from the elevators and out of the kill zone.

Thread Exit​

 

[Korda Veydran]

The white blade came in fast.
Too fast for most men.
But Korda Veydran was not most men.

The instant the lightsaber swept for his neck, his vambrace snapped up in a brutal, practiced motion. Beskar caught the blade with a violent hiss, white plasma screaming across the metal as it scraped along the armored forearm. A fan of sparks burst outward, scattering across the smoke-filled corridor.

Korda leaned into the block instead of away from it.
Closing the distance.
"Not today."

His other arm drove forward immediately, armored fist punching toward Searal's gut with the weight of a man used to fighting inside beskar. The blow was meant to crash into the center of her torso and steal the breath from her lungs before she could flow into another strike.

"I didn't survive Battle of Yaga Minor just to die to some rookie saber jockey."
The words came out rough, half a growl through blood-split lips.

Behind them, the corridor echoed with distant blaster fire and shouting prisoners, but Korda barely heard it. The world had narrowed to the glow of that white blade and the young Knight holding it.
A voice crackled faintly from the comm unit resting against the collar of his armor.

Siv.
Korda's eyes flicked for only a fraction of a second toward the corridor behind Searal before he answered.
"Copy that, Siv."
His tone stayed steady despite the lightsaber grinding against his vambrace.

"If it gets ugly, I'll call."
He clicked his tongue.
A moment later something soft shifted across the plates along his back.
Oro slid down from where she'd been clinging to the ridges of his armor.

The two-foot fluffy hognose dropped to the floor with a small thump, thick body coiling instinctively before she began to slither and shuffle toward Siv. Her fuzzy body dragged lightly across the floor, little nose twitching as the battle noise echoed around her.

Korda didn't look back.
His eyes stayed locked on Searal.
"Keep her safe," he said toward Siv.
A pause.

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders once, resetting his stance. The battered plates of his armor caught the cold glow of the Knight's white lightsaber. The jaig eyes painted across his left chestplate stared forward through the haze, and the four tally marks carved into his helmet hanging from his belt swayed slightly with the movement.

"And if I fall…"
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
"…watch after her."
Then his attention returned fully to Searal. Blood streaked down one side of his face, but the grin that followed was unmistakably amused.

A low chuckle rumbled out of him.
"Alright, saber jockey."
He shifted his footing, squaring up again as the white blade hummed between them.
"Show me what you've got."

Tags: Searal Nis Siv Kryze

 

[Dominique Vexx]

The Chancellor stood by patiently as the miasma formed into two people: Ambassador Obaith, and... someone else with a flare for the dramatic. And still, she listened as the man crowed about their circumstances. Jested about the fates of those dying on Loya Sayu. Bloviating about claiming that the tables had turned.

A moment passed after The Lord of Hunger made his 'offer.' Then another.

At last, the Chancellor spoke, "You people never learn."

"You started on the right foot returning the Ambassador," she extended a hand in Cynan Obaith 's direction. "You had my attention. Then you immediately started to flaunt your superiority and make demands of me believing yourself our betters." Her hand fell back to her side and disappeared behind her back.

"It might surprise you to learn, I have no interest in waging war on the Imperial Confederation. Our attention is better spent elsewhere. I even sought to hold discussions in spite of our differences, and the legal challenges that would be brought forward as a result. Because, in the end, despite our differences, a meaningful outcome can be reach in our cooperation." A humorless smile touched her painted lips.

The smile then vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. "That was before you abducted our Ambassador, demanded I all but turn Corellia over to you, and refused to return him when I asked politely. And whether you accept the responsibility or not, Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen of the Imperial Confederation does represent your government -- just as you are, now. You might think it looks like you hold the moral high ground here, but it only appears that way."

"Your kind thinks this Republic is a nation that strangles itself with morality and legalese. Constrained to do the 'right thing' at any cost. You think to take advantage of the good nature of people that only want to live in peace and prosperity -- goals that do not necessitate governments seek to annihilate one another. And, so, with negotiations at a stand still, and the continued flaunting of our good intentions, you have what you wanted. Not what you asked for, but what you wanted. An excuse. A justification."

"And, frankly, sir," the speed with which Dominique delivered the next words deliberately slowed, "I don't care if you feel justified in whatever you do next. I will not allow my people to be pawns in your games."

With a brief pause and a slight, unnecessary straightening of her posture, the Chancellor added, "So, if you have something you wish to discuss concerning our future... If the return of the Ambassador is a show of good faith... My advice is that you take this moment for what it is, and not what you wish it to be. Otherwise, please depart with the same speed and welcome in which you arrived. Alone."

 

[Cynan Obaith]

Objective: Rescued?
Outfit: Shackled prisoner
Tag: Dominique Vexx | The Lord of Hunger

Being teleported back into High Republic space was disorientating and Cynan was glad to have an empty stomach so nothing could be released as the nausea hit him like a tsunami. With the release on his body and the liberation of his cuffs, Cynan pulled the cloth that gagged him and breathed in deeply. Giving the time for this being to make demands of Dominique for bring back Cynan to the High Republic space. The ambassador could only laugh as clearly someone was very confused with what was going on here.

"The High Republic was attempting to rescue an illegally detained and tortured ambassador. Your supreme commander started this war when he believed himself too self-important to listen to my advice and not attempt to kill innocent lives on Corellia and handle things in a peaceful and democratic approach." Cynan stated firmly, there was no kindness or attempts to beat around the bush. He was done with the imperials believing that they could garner anything from this interaction.

Looking to Dominique, "apologies High Chancellor for not realising the potential political problems that my attempts to be civil with an imperial commander could cause." Cynan had not wished the events to unfold as they had but he was not going to allow anything to shift the blame away from where it needed to be directed at. "The Jedi. The High Republic. The High Chancellor are all in need of an apology from your Imperial Confederacy. One of your people severely overstepped and overestimated the power that they clearly do not hold. You have no controlling hand in this matter, sir."

Taking steps to move towards Dominique, Cynan was unsteady on his feet. The exhaustion and pain of his torturous imprisonment was overtaking the adrenaline of attempting to escape the imperial soldiers that detained him. "I do fear that the leadership of the Imperial Confederacy won't take this as a moment to reflect on how poorly they handled a needless situation, but I would be delighted to be proven wrong." Looking back to Dominique, "once my body has recovered from the worst of my injuries, I will be happy to provide a full and detailed account of what happened with Mr. Sularen on Corellia. After that I do intend on returning to Corellia and ensuring he will never have the opportunity to enact any of the actions he told me he desired to do there."

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Naboo, Dominique Vexx' offices
OBJECTIVE: Offering a deal
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | Rackham | Cynan Obaith | Barragh Nenn | Dominique Vexx

So you think you can dance?

"Oh dear...oh dear," The dealmaker chuckled, his voice dipping a tad deeper, his eyes staring straight into those of the High Chancellor, despite her words, despite her seeming desire to stand straight in her shoes and have the upper hand, he didn't seem to care in the slightest. He didn't make any shift in his body language or his stance, with no indication of growing defensive or cornered. All that happened, was perhaps even more terrifying than having him lash out in anger...for the Dealmaker started laughing, an actual laughing fit, where his voice distorted, twisted and grew deeper and hollow with every breath of air which seemed to be pushed out of his lungs. "Superiority? I believe the fact that I did on my own what you needed an entire army for would effectively prove my point."

Hearing the Ambassador open his mouth and turned his attention towards him, wagging his finger and chuckling again. "Marlon Sularen acted without any official Imperial Confederation capacity, outside of his jurisdiction and perview as Supreme Commander. He did not get the approval from the Ruling Council, nor did he get mine. He acted thusly beyond the scope of his command and without backing of the Imperial Confederation."

Taking a step closer to the High Chancellor, the Dealmaker looked down upon her, his vibrant golden and crimson eyes gazing upon her with a strange, twisted emptiness within them. He wasn't lying, the words he had uttered, each and every single one of them were correct. He had acted in deference to those words, delivering the Ambassador to avoid what the High Republic had started, NOT the Imperial Confederation. "It is a pity isn't it? You believe me to be an asset to the Imperial Confederation? Your beliefs are what kill you, you have no flexibility, you utilize a hammer where a scalpel should've been the proper tool. I give you a solution, you spit in my face...tell me, you truly believe any of you to be safe, guarded within these walls as long as I am here?

He calmly raised his hand, holding his thumb and his middle finger together, a move Cynan Obaith must've already seen before. If negotiations could not be made properly, than there was no other option but to bring the High Republic to its knees in a less civilised manner. The Dealmaker abhorred having to rely on these methods, especially since he had come here with peace in mind, not having to rely too much on his overwhelming strength and power. For someone who was known as a business woman, the High Chancellor had to have been rather bad at business if this was how she conducted herself alongside this failed diplomat.

"You wanted an apology from the Imperial Confederacy?" The man suddenly chuckled, tilting his head slightly backwards, the angle in which he did so, making the smile on his mask seem cruel and twisted even more so than usual. "To what end though...I believe it would've been smarter to actually call for such a thing before attacking the bloody faction alongside mandalorians... not to sound pedantic, but again...

you sorta outplayed your hand with this action... so again...

final option, final chance."

Reaching towards Dominique Vexx the man reached out with his other hand, awaiting for her to shake it.

"Make a deal with me... and end what's happening because of the choices of lesser men..."

​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

"While we sought the opinion of the Ruling Council bereft of your Ruler, my Ambassador would have been neglected, tortured, and likely killed in the time it took for diplomatic channels to yield movement. After the Black Sun abducted a previous Chancellor your Ruling Council should have foreseen our response -- that we would not tolerate biding our time in the vain hope of Marlon Sularen's allies deciding his actions were more trouble than they were worth." The Chancellor had warned Sularen if he wouldn't surrender the Ambassador willingly that the next time they spoke she wouldn't be so considerate.

"As for your 'solution,' I have yet to hear it." Dominique remain precisely where she'd been the second The Lord of Hunger had appeared. That he'd stepped closer would not force her backward, consciously or otherwise.

As for Cynan Obaith 's sentiments, they didn't warrant her immediate response. Certainly not with this unannounced and unwelcome 'guest' still around. They could discuss such matters later. If anything, the Ambassador's unvarnished thoughts might be an asset to what could otherwise become a stalemate between two immovable objects.

Their guest sought to use the Force, which prompted the Jedi to bring up their hand to try and counter it. Guards would draw their weapons. If he didn't use a power at all, Dominique was inclined to stay everyone from combat with a gesture. The threat alone was not enough to start a new front to their skirmish.

"I neither need nor seek an apology from the Imperial Confederation. I would rather we discuss how best to move beyond this matter." The corners to her lips turned downward. "But if you have any illusion to threaten me into taking a deal you have yet to so much as summarize... I'll say it one last time, before I have the computer readout the nature of a response you believe me incapable of discharging before you snap your fingers: tell me what diplomatic solution you propose, in its entirety, and I will consider it."

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Naboo, Dominique Vexx' offices
OBJECTIVE: Offering a deal
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | Rackham | Cynan Obaith | Barragh Nenn | Dominique Vexx

The Deal in Question

His eyes started to squint, listening to Dominique Vexx , observing how she managed to defy him, it was perhaps more likely that she'd be resistant to him because of the fact that he wore his Dolos Necklace and hadn't revealed the real person behind the guise of the Dealmaker, but even then her defiance was quite interesting. More important though were her words, her demeanor, the way she held herself despite most likely having already realised that all those guards and a single Jedi, while it may have looked like overkill in any usual situation, was in fact woefully underwhelming in the eyes of the Dealmaker. While he was still holding his fingers pressed against one another, he hummed, a tune in a tone that seemed to convey a certain feeling of contentment, of understanding and agreement.

"I must say, I AM impressed," Snapping his fingers finally, there would be no shockwave, no violent outburst of the force in any way, except for a small, momentary crackle of black energy above the fingers which had produced the loud, high pitched snapping sound, a scroll of parchment, a rare and costly item in times where everything had been done in crystals and digital code. An ancient tool of information storage practically unknown to most of the galaxy by that time. "While I would still call this all a failure of an action... I understand your position and your point, miss Chancellor..."

Unfurling the scroll of parchment, which at first glance seemed to be completely blank, the masked man started to move his finger, as if he was writing in thin air, only for the parchment to begin manifest the letters, the syllables, the words which were necessary for any deal or contract.

"A personal open forum, publicised apology from the Supreme Commander at the address of Corellia, the High Republic and Cynan Obaith in person," The Dealmaker's eyes squinted again, a flicker, a hint of utter glee and amusement visible in those otherwise unnaturally inhuman eyes. he seemed to enjoy drafting a deal around the problematic situation which originated from the Supreme Commander's actions, but were compounded by the heavy-handed retaliation by the High Republic. "I reckon a travel and entry ban for the Supreme Commander to and within any of the High Republic Held and affiliated territories would also be most appropriate? Call it a preventative meassure, that any entry by a confirmed high official of the Imperial Confederation without prior agreement or approval can be seen as an act of war or espionage and grounds for incarceration and...or deportation... sound about right?"

Continuing to nod and hum, the man's fingers continued to twirl around, as letters became words, words became entire sentences and eventually paragraphs. "The latter will also count in the opposite direction... High Republic personel holding any high office may also be subject to this rule from now on. Call it a result of your own actions, I believe this is not too much of an issue? As long as everything is done according to mutual agreement and approval... in case of overstepping any boundaries, there would be no confusion."

As he suddenly stopped, the Dealmaker looked at the Ambassador and chuckled. "My apologies, but would you two like to add something?"​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique's stare didn't alter at the man's claim of being impressed. This was a day when people had died in order to free one of their own. Likely would still die even vacating the prison world to return home. And how many Imperial Confederates had perished? How many prisoners? From what nation or world had they hailed? A considerable loss of personnel and resources. Not something a Director of Denon enjoyed. It was, in a word, wasteful. Inefficient.

Tension was rampant in the room. It didn't take a mind-reader to see what was clear in every face, shoulders, and lean of every person in the chamber. Dominique continued to hold up her hand to stay their own. It was a powder keg a hair's breadth away from igniting. One this visitor danced around gleefully unaware of their own danger -- because they believed themselves untouchable. How often Force Users mistook power for control.

READY.

A single word appeared on the inside of her glareshades. Better late than never. Fortunately, their guest simply had a flashy manner of producing parchment for his performance. How very... mythological. Did he fancy himself a devil, or was it simply the expenditure in crafting physical material to be signed they wished to show off?

Still, the Chancellor was glad to have a card in her hand worth playing.

"A moment." Dominique paused for a second to allow The Lord of Hunger time to shift mental gears. "Before debating the content of this... arrangement. I would like to clarify a fundamental aspect of our interaction. Chiefly, whether you possess the authority in which to make such an accord? You spoke of the Ruling Council. Are you a member of it?" If he were not -- or at least an authorized negotiator on their behalf -- then the naturally begged question would be how she should expect any of it to be enforced on the Imperial Confederation's side.

The High Republic had exactly what it sought from this day: the return of Cynan Obaith . All that remain was to contemplate future dealings as their guest had begun to touch upon. If he lacked the authority with which to negotiate, Dominique rather he simply leave and all would end on a curiously high note. On the other hand, if he possessed some means of influence, she wasn't opposed to the notion of discussion.

"As to the matter of the Supreme Commander, as he made no effort to refute the claims of abducting our Ambassador," in fact, he'd outright acknowledged the circumstances of such, "there will be a warrant out for his arrest. In the interests of fostering peace between our governments, it would be prudent that he not enter High Republic or High Republic territorial space." Whether the Imperial Confederation wished to write into law a restraining order demanding their Supreme Commander stay out of their space was an internal matter. Personally, the Chancellor had hoped for a different tract, but such was out of her hands now. Cynan might not like her suggestion, but it was an obvious one. Of course, Marlon Sularen was free to step across the invisible line and be arrested on sight.

Some might wonder how Quinn Varanin got an exception as a dignitary whereas Marlon was not. Well, the foremost reason was the Mandalorian Empire and Aether Verd were an ally and so efforts had to be made to maintain a healthy relationship. They'd come to an 'understanding' about the woman of several faces. Marlon, on the other hand, had one face -- one allegience -- which meant his personal actions reflected in one sphere of influence. And there was the minor diplomatic problem that the High Republic and Imperial Confederation hadn't formalized any understandings or relations. What could Dominique say? It was politics.

"I would be opposed to denying travel of the Imperial Confederation's Ruling Council. They would be subject to the same expectations as any dignitary. Advance notice would, however, ensure their protection and avoid a 'diplomatic incident.' While High Officers may not always possess the same, until they conduct themselves inappropriately this is a free and open -- albeit observient -- society. Should anyone engage in kidnapping or murder, we reserve the right to demand expedient justice. Perhaps," the Chancellor's chin lifted, "the Imperial Confederation should establish an emergency line of communication between our two governments. So that future 'misunderstandings' are identified and resolved swiftly before more overt action is required."

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Naboo, Dominique Vexx' offices
OBJECTIVE: Offering a deal
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | Rackham | Cynan Obaith | Barragh Nenn | Dominique Vexx

The Deal in Question II

"Member of the ruling council?" A chuckle escaped the man's throat, not to mock her question, but to mock the idea. In truth, he wasn't part of the Ruling council, at least not in the technical sense. However, there was no doubt the masked man held not just the ear of the Ruling Council, but held enough influence and power within the entire system of the Imperial Confederation to turn the entire faction on its head if he desired to do so. He had faced the highest among the sith, he had been one of those founding members, he was the bane of Marlon Sularen , the fear of Karl Von Strauss , the shadow behind the ruling council, the sword of damocles above their necks if it were. "In practicality I replaced a traitor who held the highest office under the Exarch, I am one of the ones whose signature is upon the founding document of the Imperial Confederation. While I do not stand in the foreground, know that my suggestions and advise is rarely if ever dismissed. I AM the Dealmaker, but I am also so much more, dear Chancellor Vexx."

Again that same chuckle, accompanied by the same squinting eyes behind the mask, a glint of glee and amusement, but also intrigue and interest. He wasn't wrong, while on paper, it would seem the Dealmaker in any of his guises did not hold much of a public office, but in reality he was the silent third partner, a monster useful, cunning and dangerous enough for the Imperial Confederation to know that without him, they'd be lost.

"A direct line is feasible... a warrant for the arrest of the Supreme Commander should he ever step foot within High Republic space...is again, most doable," A swoosh of his hand, and a few sentences were erased dutifully replaced by others which matched the Chancellor's demands on the parchment. However, he had not heard her reply to his own condition, a condition which he was not going to abandon. "Noting this process does go both ways, while I could ask for you to give me the names of those within your government who have actively advocated for this attack, I believe it to be in your best interest and partly a boon to your honor to not reveal these. However, as recompense, I will advise your status to thusly be viewed in similar fashion as the Supreme Commander... as a means to show that while you may have had your reasons, your final words HAS driven the Imperial Confederation and thus myself to the current situation."

The Dealmaker didn't stress upon this condition as a means to insult the Chancellor, but to allow her to effectively save face and take responsibility. The chances of the highest political office of the High Republic ever showing up in the Imperial Confederation, even in peacetime would be closer to zero anyway. "Lastly...there is the problem with the mandalorians..."

This was probably the hardest issue, the fact the High Republic had brought in mandalorians had dramatically complicated things. They had falsely accused the Imperial Confederation of being behind their war with the Diarchy, and this after the Imperial Confederation had already been dealt a significant blow in their diplomatic relations by the very traitor who tanked their negotiations with the mandalorians. To have these people, mercenary or not, be utilized as a means to attack the Imperial Confederation, further isolating the faction despite its overall desire to maintain peace with the High Republic and the Mandalorians... hit a sour note.

"Things would've been easier if you simply utilized your own assets... the use of mandalorians, further degrading and eroding the possible future of an accord between us... has not just been damaging, but outright insulting to the Imperial Confederation," Letting out a sigh, the masked man tilted his head a bit. "What if...we held a special meeting, on neutral ground between the High Republic and the Imperial Confederation, for the sake of removing any misgivings and falsehoods which have poisoned the galaxy's relations?"

​

 

[Mao]

​

Location: Time to Dip! Next time, Big Guy!
Allies to help extract: Adelle Bastiel | Itzhal Volkihar | Ze'bast Verd
Directly interacting: Barragh Nenn


The chain snapped rigid and Mao felt the change instantly.

Karkin' hell! -- the Bilari whip locked like a bar of molten steel around her rifle and forearms, and there was no avoiding how the plasma flashed along its length with a vicious hiss and the pressure surged through the weapon and armor.

Shards of scorched durasteel and circuitry burst outward in a spray of metal and sparks. The sudden torque ripped through her gauntlets and sent a violent shock up both arms. Pain lanced through her forearms as the weapon tore free in pieces.

But the rifle had done its job.

Barragh got fethed in the face and the resulting damage drew blood.

Either way, the Fierrero Republic Commando landed hard, boots skidding across the corridor as the destroyed rifle clattered away in fragments, as the Umbaran proceeded to monologue.

Mao didn't give a kark.

Pain registered along her arms from where they had been burned, where the chain had crushed against her armor, warning icons flickering across her HUD. It hurt like a queen, but nothing was broken enough to stop her yet.

She stepped forward anyway.

Her sidearm cleared its holster in a single practiced motion, and she fired twice while advancing, attempting to force Barragh to move again rather than settle into whatever trick the amber light in his eyes promised.

Close quarters.
No room for theatrics.

The corridor roared behind her with blasterfire as the Sovereign Protectors clashed with the commandos. And just then, her comm crackled.

"Senator is gone. Evacuated from the inside. Unknown asset, possibly a turncoat or a new ally. I do not have confirmation."

"Fall back. Our task is complete."

The order hit like ice cold water.

Mao immediately grabbed a sticky grenade and activated it only to slam it against the bulkhead. Tick tok. Something to use just enough disruption to break the rhythm of the fight.

Three.

The Firrereo's electric blue locked with the Umbaran for a single heartbeat, calculating the odds, but decided then it was not worth the mission. Mao stepped back, blaster steady as she began retreating down the corridor toward the sound of Republic fire.

Two.

"Next time, Beefcake," she shouted out and moved fast, backtracking toward her unit and the extraction route as the Citadel trembled with the distant promise of an orbital strike.

One.

The grenade went off.

~ Exit Thread ~

 

[Dominique Vexx]

If the so-called 'Dealmaker' thought the Chancellor would grow wide-eyed, beside herself in his presence, he would be disappointed. On the other hand, Dominique did him the courtesy not to blanche at the notion. Signatory to the Confederation? 'So much more'? Well, aside from invoking her 'solution' to his very presence and scuttling their entire exchange, it seemed she had little choice but to take him at his word. For now. It would be a trivial matter to validate any accord with the Ruling Council later to determine if this were a genuine negotiation.

To think a woman in her position might worry about the legal hand-wringing of the Senate at engaging an Imperial Confederation. While Dominique granted the man managed to reign in his acerbic wit and haughty demeanor better than some, the way he 'smiled' and how his eyes glowed said enough.

A patient smile returned to the Dealmaker accepting that there would be a warrant at all. They hardly had a say in the matter, but it wasn't polite to rub it in their face. If he wanted to imply a hand in shaping internal, Republic policy so be it. It was not 'doable,' it was done. There was no way to simply forget Marlon Sularen's actions that'd led to the day's events. It already strained credulity to pretend they could simply ignore all of the man's historic deeds, let alone the current ones.

"As you wish." The Confederation wished to blacklist a Head of State from visiting their territory? So be it. Were she the Executive Director of the Corporate Sector that might have been a bother. As things were, any engagement with them could be by diplomat or holo. Given the lack of strong interaction before nothing of value was lost, and they could make a big show of it.

Which left them with the 'Mandalorian Problem,' as this Dealmaker put it. The Chancellor's brow lifted as she waited his clarification. From where she stood there was no problem.

"I cannot speak for the Mand'alor. If you formally submit your proposed date, location, and circumstance for this 'special meeting' to our governments we can discuss the matter, and offer our response." She did not smile or frown in saying such. It was what it was. A factual truth no amount of exasperation or raving would change. Aether Verd could very well decline to participate in such a meeting. Dominique would need to better understand the depth of their schism. There had to be more to it than a single, botched... negotiation. Difficult to describe a broadcast where a man crucified people as a negotiation, but there it was. Perhaps, ultimatium?

"With that, Dealmaker, if we might conclude this discussion, we both have forces to withdraw from the field. Further conversation might be possible regarding additional topics." Though she imagined many a field commander had already pulled out once the Ambassador was found absent the field. Dominique hadn't been lying when she said the scope of the intrusion had been the retrieval of Cynan Obaith . Securing Marlon Sularen was always a secondary objective -- one that could have cost significantly more resources and required considerably greater casualties.

The Lord of Hunger​

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Naboo, Dominique Vexx' offices
OBJECTIVE: Finalizing the deal
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | Rackham | Cynan Obaith | Barragh Nenn | Dominique Vexx


The masked man chuckled again, tilting his head ever so slightly in order to approve of what the Chancellor was saying. but the Mandalorian issue was going to be more complex anyway, since it meant dealing with the Sith. Even then, the chance of reconciliation with the mandalorians was next to zero, the price for their existence as mercenaries and for their ineptitude to see beyond the lies spread in the galaxy. The Dealmaker shrugged, he liked the mandalorians, but knew that anything diplomatic with them would burn anyone's fingers at this point. "It'll be better just to have a secondary, more formal meeting to set everything as discussed in this deal into political and legaslative print. You have my word that the highest authorities within the Imperial Confederation will hear you and will respect your opinion on the matters."

it was perha&ps a bit strange to hear the Dealmaker suddenly be so honeyed, yet also so uninterested in what would happen after this deal's conclusion. Yet that was exactly it, he was there to make the deal, to make sure it was initially honored to the letter, but the aftermath and the upholding of whatever would be discussed in any later meeting would be on the shoulders of those who were meant to hash out the deal in detail, make it a legislatively binding contract rather than a personally binding one. One thing was certain though, whatever had transpired in the last few hours had most likely shifted everything, The Imperial Confederation which had been built on the idea of upholding the logistical and politically prudent aspects of the idea of imperialism would now be more careful, less accomodating and potentially much more isolationist in their diplomatic attachments. perhaps this was the goal of the other factions from the beginning, perhaps it wasn't, but while pragmatism would prevail, so too would unpredictability, as the Imperial Confederation would take this as their cue to evolve and strengthen themselves when knowing they stood wholly alone.

"You're interesting, maybe even dangerous...Chancellor Vexx," The Dealmaker laughed, a hollow sound escaping his lips behind the mask. "As requested, the ambassador will remain here in your capable hands...I doubt he'd want to go for another ride with me."

Snapping his fingers, the parchment rolled up and suddenly doubled, a seal of the Dealmaker's own making on the parchment as he handed it over to the Chancellor. "Do give me a consideration, should you ever need someone more persuasive than the mandalorians..."

With those words, the Dealmaker turned around, nodded towards the Jedi with a chuckle and left through the same way he had arrived, the vortex vanishing completely, leaving but a faint trace of its presence which was rapidly fizzling out...

EXIT THREAD




​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

A gloved hand emerged from behind her back to accept the parchment. The Chancellor smiled as the Dealmaker concluded their exchange pleasantly, and with an invitation. Polite as it was, she wondered how best to contact him.

It was a smile that vanished the moment he was gone. She set the contract down atop the holoprojection table and turned to look toward the door. "Bring it in and open it. I want this room cleansed," the Chancellor's voice cut sharply through the open doorway to those that'd taken position there.

It wasn't filth Dominique was worried about. She didn't feel sullied having occupied the same space as the jester or jackal. It was sheer pragmatism. While no Jedi or Sith Lord, she knew enough of the Force to be alarmed. Having just witnessed someone transpose themselves over such a vast distance in an instant had done nothing to downplay the dangers the Force posed now or in the future.

Thankfully, the Republic was not as defenseless as the Dealmaker believed. Had things gone horribly astray, the Chancellor had been prepared to demonstrate just how far they'd go to ensure their own survival. That would not have ended half as amicably as the proceedings just had. It would have put them on an inevitable collision course.

A fate they'd avoided. Nonetheless, she wanted all trace -- anything the Dealmaker might have left behind -- erased. Including on the contract itself. If the thing was a Force manifestation so unexpectedly erased, the Chancellor's glareshades had already recorded its content in full and the act of the Dealmaker's marking.

"Have our forces withdraw from Confederation space. Maintain position on our side of the border for now." Reprisal could come swiftly if the Confederation believed the Republic had turned its back and this were an elaborate charade. "Then inform the Mandalorians what transpired, and that I wish to speak with their Mand'alor." It wouldn't be the Confederation that painted a picture of events on Naboo. Any such painting from their side wouldn't reflect what actually happened even if she believed they could be trusted; no one but the Dealmaker from their side had been there, and that man found things amusing. What other amusements might be gleaned with the right word here or there?

Dominique circled around the war room to stand before the Jedi. "Thank you for coming. And your restraint." Her smile was warm and she extended a hand out toward the man. "Apologies. These are necessary precautions." The Jedi had nearly turned green as the device was unleashed. Dominique had seen the way it affected his kind before, but there hadn't been time to explain why he should leave first. "Please," she gestured toward the door, "will you walk and talk with me to the backup Strategy and Planning chamber?" The Jedi Order too would need to be informed lest they think the Republic was becoming too acquainted with darker forces. They might not be officials in the government, but Dominique knew the trouble Jedi could be when they thought you were or allied to a sinister force yourself.

Her lilac shades then turned in Cynan's direction. "Ambassador? Would you join us? I would like to hear your side of the tale now." Marlon hadn't minced words, but before the Senators started to sink their claws into the man, she would like to hear how he saw events unfold. And what had happened after the abduction -- which Marlon had not gone into any effort to describe. Perhaps the Jedi could even help assauge some injuries along the way.

The Lord of Hunger | Cynan Obaith
FYI Aiden Porte | Adelle Bastiel | Aselia Verd | Aether Verd​

 

[Seldan Rourke]

​

Dust rolled through the corridor as the pillar crashed down. Seldan stayed low behind fractured cover, rifle braced against the rubble while Gavin's blaster fire cut sharp lines through the haze. "Nice timing," Seldan muttered into the comm.

He leaned out and fired two controlled bursts. One Prison Trooper dropped. Another stumbled back behind the fallen stone. The rubble had split the corridor in half, forcing the Imperials to slow their push. Good. Slow them down. Make every step cost.

Seldan shifted position again as acid splashed across the floor nearby. The smell bit through the filters. His visor flickered warnings, but the line held.

"Gavin, keep pressure on that left side," he said calmly. "Don't let them regroup."

Blaster bolts tore past his shoulder. He returned fire in short bursts, aiming for exposed limbs and armor seams. The Imperials answered with disciplined volleys. Ronhar's voice cut through the smoke soon after.

Seldan almost laughed. Yeah. That sounds about right. He opened his mouth to answer when a voice came through his comm instead. "Senator is gone. Evacuated from the inside. Unknown asset."

Seldan blinked once. For a moment the noise of the corridor faded behind the words. "Fall back. Our task is complete." A second transmission followed almost immediately. High Republic Strategic Command. Clear and official. All forces evacuate.

Well. That changes things.

Seldan fired one last burst to keep the Imperials pinned, then keyed his comm. "Copy. All units prepare to disengage."

He rose just enough to shout down the corridor. His voice carried over the gunfire. "I'll take that deal!" Another shot cracked from his rifle, forcing the Imperials back behind the rubble. "Looks like neither of us gets the win today. Maybe next time."

Seldan motioned sharply to his squad. "Break contact. Move!" They peeled back in pairs, laying down covering fire as they retreated through the blasted doorway. Seldan stayed last, stepping backward while sending two final bursts into the smoke to discourage pursuit.

Once clear of the corridor, he switched channels and keyed a broader transmission. "All Mandalorian allies, this is Captain Rourke. Primary objective complete. Repeat, objective complete. Evacuate immediately."

Boots pounded through the shaking halls as alarms screamed around them. Seldan took point as they moved toward the extraction route.

Mission done. Time to leave this hell behind.

Gavin Restur | Ronhar Tane | Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel | Kirae Orade​

 

[Gavin Restur]

Equipment: Dual Blaster Pistols, Forcepike, Cycler Rifle, Rocket Boots, Rebreather + Tubes, Misc.
TAGS: Seldan Rourke , Ronhar Tane
​

A few bolts were let off towards figures in the dust, before return fire from an Imperial made him duck back down into cover. To be honest, he was rather enjoying this. Blowing things up, shooting at people. It can't get much better than this.

["What are we doing here, Rourke? You're outnumbered, outgunned, and soon to be out of time. This facility is going to be crawling with Imperial reinforcements soon. If you leave now, you'll have my word that my men and I won't pursue you!"]

"Didn't know you had a friend in the Imperials, Rourke. Can't lie, that is a tempting offer." Speaking through the comms on his wrist to Seldan Rourke . But, he stayed out of the conversation between the two of them. Letting Rourke handle it, as he was busy having a blaster battle with one of the Imperials, exchanging a few shots before crouching back down. One of the troopers who had come along with Gavin was struck, limply falling down.

But, a transmission decided to cut through. Strategic Command was coming through. Since he was outside the regular chain of command, he was given access to communications with them so that he could be in the know with information and orders, such as the following.

Senator was extracted. Get out of there. Huh, alright.

Then, Rourke came through. ["Copy. All units prepare to disengage."] No complaints from him, Rourke was the man in charge. As such, he holstered one of his blasters, reaching into his satchel afterwards.

["Break contact. Move!"]

He stayed behind with Rourke while the rest of the unit retreated, popping a few bolts himself just to aid in making sure the Imperials kept their heads down. Once the rest of the unit had gotten out, he ran back towards the doorway, halting after to give more covering fire for Rourke to ensure he made it out. With everyone out and actively running, he pulled out a thermal detonator from his satchel, and primed it before throwing it behind himself. Though, it hadn't landed anywhere near the position of Ronhar Tane and his men, instead landing by the doorway they just exited. It made a few loud beeps, before exploding by the door, with the intent to keep the Imperials away from the door for as long as possible. And if the Imperial was being true to his word, no one would have been anywhere near the blast radius. Just a shame he never got the opportunity to ask the Imperial where he got that acid launcher on his shoulder from.

With that taken care of, he and the trooper with him followed Rourke and his men, running right along with them. After Rourke made his transmission, he yelled on over to him. "You got any clue how the Senator got out? I was hopin' we'd get to him, first!"

 

[Searal Nis]

The white blade slid down his vambrance, sparks shrieking across his arm. Her eyes lit up in surprise, and, on instinct, she swung her lightsaber down for a counterattack, but it was silenced by a gut-wrenching punch. A coughing, gasping gag erupted from her body as the Twi'lek crumbled to the ground, wheezing as she tried to claw back air. One hand clutched her stomach while the other pressed against the ground, the only thing keeping her from collapsing. "I didn't survive Battle of Yaga Minor just to die to some rookie saber jockey." He realised that it could have killed him, she thought. As she steadied her breathing and tried to pull herself up, she looked at the Mandalorian talking to another. "Copy that, Siv, if it gets ugly, I'll call." That filled her with rage, more than anything he had done. It was only an honourable duel if they were winning; honour could be thrown away at the mildest of inconvenience. Force pushing others away was cowardly, but using human shields was merely tactical. Everything could be justified, and everything could be excused, and afterwards they could call themselves 'honourable', no matter how many atrocities they committed.


Then she saw that ridiclious snake of his coil out of his pouch, it was absurd to her that he showed so much contempt for life but treasured that pet. "Alright, sabre jockey, show me what you've got." She looked up at him, standing upright although that bruise was burning like a cancer beneath her armour. She did not charge at him with her lightsaber but instead reached out with the force. A storm erupted from her hand as a shockwave of the force screamed down the room, but she suspected he would maglock himself to the floor, keeping him stationary. She drew back her other hand and simultaneously pulled with the force. The thick metal door of a prison directly behind them began to snap, as bolts popped off hinges, and it tumbled directly at his back. If she could not melt through his beskar, then he would break the man within it.
Korda Veydran