Public Allies of Circumstance (OPEN)

[Talverin]

The war for the planet had dragged on for years. What began as a campaign for control of valuable infrastructure and strategic territory between the High Republic and the Sith Order had long since turned into a grinding stalemate. Front lines barely moved anymore. Both sides held clearly defined zones of control separated by trenches, minefields, checkpoints, and ruined cities that had changed hands too many times to count. Civilians trapped near the borders lived under constant bombardment, military occupation, food shortages, and displacement, while commanders on both sides focused more on maintaining territory than improving conditions for the people living there.

The stalemate created opportunities for others. Pirates and slavers began operating along the edges of the conflict, raiding isolated villages, refugee convoys, and damaged settlements neither side could properly protect. Efforts to pursue them almost always made the situation worse. Republic movements into contested regions were treated as potential offensives by the Sith, while Sith patrols were viewed with equal suspicion by the Republic. Years of failed ceasefires, broken agreements, and outright betrayals had destroyed any trust needed for meaningful cooperation. The pirates understood this well, and with every passing month they grew bolder.


The message had spread farther than its sender likely intended. At first it had appeared only on local emergency bands — fractured transmissions bouncing between settlements trapped near the contested zones between the High Republic and the Sith Order. Then it spread wider, carried along civilian relays, mercenary channels, refugee convoys, and eventually into the broader holonet where desperation often traveled farther than truth.

The recording itself was rough, grainy, Interrupted by static and distant artillery: A terrified voice spoke over the sound of crying children and raised arguments in the background.

"Please… anyone listening… we need help."
"They came three days ago. Slavers. Pirates. We fought back and we killed some of them. We thought…"
A pause. Breathing.
"We thought if we resisted, they would leave us alone."
"They contacted us this morning. They're coming back with more ships. They said everyone in the village will be taken. Those who resist will be killed."
"The Republic won't cross the line. The Sith won't cross the line. Everyone says it's too dangerous because of the fighting."
"Please. Anyone. Help us."

The transmission ended there.


No coordinates beyond a rough regional marker. No tactical data. Just fear.

Every attempt by one faction to pursue the slavers near contested territory was interpreted by the other as an attempted advance. More than once, "anti-piracy operations" had concealed genuine military offensives. More than once, temporary ceasefires had ended in betrayal and bloodshed. Trust had rotted away long ago, leaving civilians trapped between two entrenched powers too suspicious of one another to act.

The pirates understood this. In such strife came opportunity... But someone had to show them that they did not get to so freely prey upon the citizens of the Sith Order.
Whether or not they knew to whom they belonged.

---

The local spaceport had once serviced cargo haulers moving supplies between mining settlements in the region. Now it stood half-destroyed beneath an overcast sky, its duracrete landing field cracked by bombardment and stained black by fire. The control tower had collapsed inward days ago. Smoke still drifted from its upper levels. The defensive turrets ringing the field were little more than twisted metal skeletons, shattered during some recent engagement neither side had bothered to clean up afterward. Along the edges of the tarmac rested the burned-out remains of several Republic starfighters, frozen where they had been destroyed before they could even leave the ground.


War had passed through here, and would pass through again.


A small shuttle settled onto the landing field with a hiss of venting steam. Its boarding ramp lowered slowly, revealing the tall, slender form of a four-armed Volpai with dark blue skin, robes of black trimmed in sapphire and gold.


Vendryn descended alone.


The Sith Lord moved with measured calm, dark robes shifting in the cold wind as his eyes swept across the ruined port. Four green eyes studied the wreckage, the horizon, the clouds above. The Force carried tension here like static before a storm. His pilot remained aboard the shuttle, engines warm, ready for a swift departure if either warring side sent someone to chase them off.

Vendryn paused near the edge of the landing platform, clasping his hands behind his back as another vessel appeared faintly overhead through the clouds. Then another, farther in the distance. Responders, perhaps. He could hope - as much as he disliked the term.


With the control center destroyed, sensor telemetry was incomplete and identification unreliable. Mercenaries, opportunists, Republic personnel, Jedi, wanderers, or simply fools answering a desperate call — there was no way to know yet.

He disliked uncertainty. More importantly, he disliked reliance upon strangers... And yet here he stood regardless. The pirates would strike within days. Perhaps sooner. The local settlements lacked the strength to defend themselves, and neither major faction could intervene openly without risking escalation along the front, which meant this responsibility would fall to whoever was willing to bear it.


Vendryn exhaled slowly through his nose. Alone, he thought, success was possible.


But not assured.

He hadn't made it this far in life by acting with such thin expectations of success, but some things were worth doing, even at great personal cost. A realization that irritated him more than he cared to admit. Thus did the Sith Lord wait amidst the ruins of the forgotten spaceport, watching the skies and wondering what kind of people answered a plea for help in a war everyone else had learned to ignore.

TAG: Wedge Draav Ronhar Tane Cord Starfall Darth Strosius Iona Starchaser Iandre Athlea OPEN (also in case I missed anyone who was interested)

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The call had been a fractured thing. Both shattered by distance and choked by interference, but its core had arrived with a clarity that no comms-relay could provide. Fear did not require coordinates. It only needed to be felt, and Iandre had felt it long before her shuttle broke the cloud layer.

Below, the spaceport was a jagged skeleton of scorched duracrete and twisted metal. It was a graveyard of ambition, telling a story of a war that had struck and moved on, leaving only a heavy, hollow silence in its wake. As the ramp lowered, that silence was the first thing to greet her, followed by a biting wind that tasted of ash.

Iandre stepped onto the fractured ground, her boots finding purchase with practiced certainty. Immediately, the Force pressed against her. Strained and stretched thin, vibrating with the echoes of those who had been lost and the frantic pulses of those still hiding in the ruins. She stilled, allowing the weight of the moment to settle into her bones rather than resisting it.

"You called," she said softly. The words weren't meant for the wind, but for the raw desperation that had acted as a beacon for her soul.

Her gaze shifted, locking onto the lone figure waiting amidst the wreckage. A four-armed silhouette stood with a composure that felt like an anchor in the surrounding chaos. He was a pillar of restrained power, an embodiment of control, standing in stark contrast to the ruin behind him.

Sith.

The word didn't bring a flare of hostility, only a quiet, objective recognition. She approached him without hesitation, her hands empty and her green lightsaber remaining cold at her hip. She was neither a challenger nor a servant; she was simply a fact of the Force meeting another.

"It seems the call reached more than one of us," she said, stopping at a distance that acknowledged his power without yielding to it. "That is…encouraging."

She looked past him toward the horizon, where the sky threatened to birth the shapes of returning invaders. The Force hummed with the proximity of those still breathing beneath the rubble. Lives clinging to the edges of a slaughter.

"Civilians are still alive," she continued, her voice grounding the shared reality of their presence. "Which means the window for action has not yet closed. I am Iandre Athlea."

A heavy pause followed, the unspoken history between their two kinds lingering like smoke between them. Iandre didn't let it settle.

"We can decide what we are to each other later. For now, there are people who will not survive the hour if we do not act before those ships return."

Her gaze snapped back to his, sharp and expectant.

"Tell me what you have seen."

The Force remained tense, a bated breath held between them, but for the first time since the transmission hit her console, the mission's cold isolation began to thaw. She wasn't alone in the dark.

Talverin

 

[Novac Lyrikal]

a ship started to land on a flat blacked area of what might have been lush grass years and years ago. as the ramp lowered a towering jedi slithered out. novac saw the 2 others and slithered over to them "hello, im novac. i see the distress call reach you 2 as well. good, the more the better." novac looked around the are, not seeing much of anything other then scarp, may have to have his droids look over it later. not the time to think about that. "tell me, either of you two have a plan as of now?" he realized that the 4 armed man before him was a sith. he took a few seconds to think about, deciding now is not the time to worry about that. he is one of the only few sith novac has ever seen. luckily this one doesnt seem hostile, yet at least.

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

Vendryn held all four hands aloft in a peaceful gesture, three-fingered hands outstretched to show they were empty. "Peace," he offered them. He even, with an effort of will, withdrew his Aura into a tight shell around himself. "We have bigger enemies here than our rivalries. May we agree that we come as we are, and not as... Representatives of other authorities?"

His lip rankled for a moment, his tertiary eyes alert for danger as he focused his primary pair upon them, one after the other. "The village, as near as my sensors could tell, is only a couple of hours' travel away." One hand gestured northward. "That's on foot, anyway. My... sensors tracked the approach of a few vessels. We will wait as long as we are willing for any more arrivals."

His hands returned to be clasped before him, thick fingers interlacing. "I am..." He paused, allowing a breath to hiss from his nostrils before making a simple introduction, one bereft of titles of ceremony. "I am Vendryn." A very slight bow. Very slight. "Know this: Whatever else I may be, I am no friend to slavers and pirates. In that capacity do I stand here, now."

Novac Lyrikal Iandre Athlea

 

[Cord Starfall]

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Theme: Witch Kingdom
Equipment: Solar, Sith Sword | Fiend, Sith Sword | Sith Armor | Green MidNight Duster | Sith Mask | x2 DL-44 heavy blaster | Stun gauntlets | X2 Sith Daggers | Wrist laser | Wrist Lanvarok | x6 Thermal Detonators | Various other Explosives
Tags: Iandre Athlea | Novac Lyrikal | Vendryn Del'therak

---

An old cr90 from the galactic republic era came in for a landing near the old, ruined space port. As it came on approach the markings of the ship's name could be seen, the Jolly Roger painted along the side along with its pirate markings in the standard black and white. Those force users who could detect life would only feel on life form onboard the vessel. That life form exuded a dark wound in the force that could even penetrate those with even a minute ability to sense the force.

Those who felt or saw the approach would have to wonder why a pirate or even a being that had been so deeply scarred by the darkside would be here. Had they come to answer the call out of some sort of vengeance or greed. Then again maybe they had come to meet the challenge head on before it could grow.

Nothing anything, anyone would have thought though in the moments the old pirate corvette approached would be the truth. Inside the ship sat a singular woman meditating in a room of the ship. The lights on the interior of the ship were dark, the beeping of droids could be heard scuddling about as they ran the ships operations.

As the ship came to a soft landing the eyes of the woman opened, the vibrant orange glow of her eyes lighting up the room she was in. Her right hand reached down gently to her side as she lifted a mask that sat at her side to her face. The mask was made of amethyst and silver, with gold writing etched into it in ancient sith. The Golden writing depicting the ten thousand sins this being had committed.

With mask fitted to her face she pulled up the green hood of her duster over her head. Then she stood up and began to make her way to cargo bag where a ramp was descending to the ground. As she walked the clinking of her armor and swords echoed along with the stomping of her boots through the silent corridors of the ship.

Then she descended the ramp out into the light of the world. Her war gear that made her out to be a battle hardened sith. The armor had seen many battles, and she wore those scars with pride. Her gate as she walked, she carried herself like a warrior. Yet despite her dark aura, a permanent taint on her soul she was not sith. At least not anymore, nor was she a jedi anymore. This woman had forsaken both paths seeing them both as the same coin rather than sides.

As she made her way into the port, she saw a few others gathering, giving a head nod in greeting. Nothing showed of her face behind the mask except her strange glowing orange eyes. The outward signs of the scar she had to bear. Her sights then turned to the one who himself Vendryn.

"Not all pirates prey on the vulnerable." Her voice came out gruff and rough like she didn't speak that often. Her tone had a slight accent to it that couldn't exactly be placed but it was soft. "It would seem neither do all sith." There was a hint of predigests in her voice as she said the word sith. Cord did not like working with sith, they always had an angle or were waiting to backstab you. "Is the plan simple? Get the people to safety, kill the slavers, negotiate with the pirates?" Well at least that was what she would do.