Dominion [Black Sun] Friends in Low Places || BSS Dominion of Dandoran

[Velzari Tharn]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES

"Just give me an hour and then
Well, I'll be as high as that ivory tower
That you're livin' in."

OBJECTIVE 1:
VIGOS SUMMIT

​

Hidden among the pristine forests lie abandoned Hutt palaces, relics of an age when the Dandoran system fell under the sway of spice barons and cartel kings. Smuggler’s Basin, carved deep into a forested ravine, remains the heart of Dandoran’s underworld—a labyrinth of black-market enclaves, landing pads, and durasteel catwalks suspended over geothermal vents. The air here is thick with smoke, the hum of repulsorlifts, and the ever-present scent of sansanna spice. It is said every credit, favor, and deal in the Basin runs through Black Sun first.

In a forgotten palace at the nexus of Smuggler’s Basin, Prince Velzari and his Vigo Shadow Council are slated to meet. There is much to discuss: beskar smuggling operations along the Perlemian; deteriorating relations with the Imperial Confederation, who stands as an obstacle to syndicate operations in the east; new business ventures in the Manaan sector… many schemes are unfolding.

And these schemes require friends.

Invited to the Underlord’s table are the Diarchs and their military commanders, potential allies on a board stacked with eventual enemies. Mutual interests are enough to bring the Diarchy and Black Sun together. Will they be enough to cement a deal?

OBJECTIVE 2:
WORM IN THE APPLE

​

On Dandoran’s southern continent, far from the northern highlands and syndicate trade routes, lies a long-abandoned tomb of ferrocrete and durasteel: an Imperial facility whose corridors have stood untouched for decades. Sealed behind blast doors thicker than a starship’s hull, rumors speak of exquisite data caches. Entire archives of encrypted schematics, prototype designs, and intelligence fragments too valuable to destroy but dangerous in the wrong hands. Stories of armories stocked with pristine blasters, scout walkers, and even experimental weapons slip from spacers’ lips, ripe for the taking.

If you can cut through the undead to find them.

Sealed records recently unveiled reveal that the facility is not only a veritable treasure trove, but was also once a black site for the old Galactic Empire's Project Blackwing. For every encrypted file called out to be retrieved, there's a dozen zombified stormtroopers unwittingly guarding them. Eager to crack the data vaults and auction off what they can’t use as leverage, Black Sun prepares to enter the old Blackwing facility. But they won’t be doing it alone. While the Diarchy’s leadership forms a cohort with the syndicate, its armed forces join underworld enforcers on the southern continent. A share of the loot is promised and Black Sun watches carefully, sizing up its new ally.

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective II // Worm in the Apple //
// Focus // CT-312 // Persephone Dashiell //
// Attire //

---

---

The rumbling of the tranport engine was of small comfort to the Echani as she looked over to the ever-frustrating eyeless mask of CT-312 , helmeted and stoic as always. Once again the Echani had attempted to convince the girl to wear something more befitting the Princess' vanguard, and yet the same camo armour decorated her as always.

More annoyingly, she had attempted to convince Jorryn to wear armour on this outing as well.

The thought had made something churn in the stomach of the former Lord Inquisitor, imagining the disgrace of hiding away her pristine figure. A vague thought wondered what kind of mangled visage lay under the helmet of the girl beside her.

She had managed to loan the woman's services from Quinn Varanin for the evening, requiring her expertise in dealing with the quantity of enemy that she would be managing today. Undead were never the most appealing, bereft of both life and aesthetic, shambling corpses who's only purpose was to be returned to the earth.

A hand danced along a gun that the trooper had provided, citing the danger of close quarters against such enemies.

She felt too awkward to tell CT that she didn't exactly know how to use them.

As they departed the shuttle, the pair were only greeted by the wind and silence, and the grand steel doorway that guarded their prize. She was no hacker, and doubted her lightsaber would be able to cut through such a thick piece of durasteel. Maybe the trooper's explosives could make more of an impact, but they seemed to lack the required specialist that was needed.

"Of all days to forget a slicer..."

A tongue clicked with annoyance before she peered backwards to the masked woman at her side, hoping the girl would provide a better answer for this conundrum. The robes she wore billowed against the wind as she did her best to maintain a crisp image, using the force very pettily to prevent the fabric from ruffling.

"Ok, bring out the explos-"

As she was about to barge her way through, strange noises tickled the edges of her enhanced sense. Her eyes followed the noise to a distant corner of the entrance, a strange droid doing its best to tuck itself quietly away. It hadn't been doing a very good job considering how easy it was to spot, and yet curiosity got the better of her as she marched towards it.

The droid walked out from the little crevice it called home, clearly defensive in its stance. It paused the stride of the Echani as she raised an eyebrow towards the machine, wondering if it was a relic of the Empire past left to defend the door by itself.

Then why had it not been standing guard.

She sauntered in a long stride around the droid, careful not to antagonise the thing. It was clearly attempting to hide something, and Jorryn's amber eyes made out a second silhouette. It was a girl, small and young, dressed far too nicely for an outing such as this one.

A kindred spirit perhaps.

Better than the masked soldier that still trailed near her.

The Echani moved forward, allowing a softened expression cross her face so as to not terrify the girl.

"It's alright, dear, you can come out." The voice attempted to mimic what she imagined a sister might sound like, though the concern was genuine. Why was this child out here alone. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

She ignored the droid, despite its posturing. As much as the political climate had changed, she would still never consider a droid a person. So she addressed its charge, hoping to draw the girl forward.

 

[V1-L8]

OBJECTIVE II

" Oh she is beautiful!" He exclaimed and adjusted his leather trenchcoat. Then he tipped his new spacers hat at the nearest trooper.

As V1-L8 stepped off the transport, the first thing that grabbed his attention was the monstrosity of a door that sealed the vault. Thick, starship-grade Durasteel. It was practically impregnable. And yet, the closer V1 got to it and examined it, the more convinced he became that he was going to pregnate it. Of all the allies that were around him, Black Sun, the Diarchy, and a couple more, some faces he didn't even recognize. Not that it mattered. It was hard to tell all these meat popsicles apart from one another.

They all came in different colors, shapes, and sizes, but to his biological senses, they were all the same.

But the door, though. Oh, this door. Immediately, his systems HUD was chirping and alarming his senses to a myriad of different methods and ways that he could possibly, hypothetically, get this door open. Even with all the supplies around him, the troopers, explosives, and detonators, that that would only cause a scratch. There was also the use of a lightsaber, if he could get his hands on one. He doubted that someone would just simply let him borrow one.

But back to the door. It was practically calling his name. Encouraging and mocking. Open me. He could hear it. Well, he couldn't hear it. He was a droid. But there was a part of him that wanted it to. Going through his arsenal, VIOLATE looked around, and without giving any type of warning, immediately started priming his acid stream launcher connected to his right forearm. It would take a minute for it to get to activate and could take time to eat through, or at least weaken, this size of a metal. Xenoboric acid had that effect on inorganic materials. It might take a while, but he would break through.

He just had to prep the solution.

Jorryn Fordyce

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: In Post
Location: Dandoran

Undead, huh? That wasn't something Reina had ever faced before. Seems like her job with the Deathdrop was giving her more and more experiences than she had expected. Was this perhaps one of Reina's first good decisions she had made in her life? Joining up with the Deathdrop? Doubtful. It would go wrong in some way. Either way, she stood there after getting off the transport ship, lifting Pequod off her belt, tossing the Lightsaber's hilt into the air before catching it. It had been a while since she had last used it. A memento of her time as a Jedi. She planned on replacing it sooner or later, but she had assumed that a Lightsaber would make for the best tool to use against the undead.

She adjusted her armour as well, making sure her helmet was secured and tight. When it came to Deathdrop jobs, her identity was somewhat kept as much of a secret as she could. On a job, she wasn't Reina Daival, she was just Dawn. Dawn of a new day, of a new job. Her eyes flickered towards the others stood outside of the door. There was the somewhat familiar visage of CT-312 . Then there was the not-at-all familiar visage of V1-L8 . The main sight that caused Reina to falter for a moment was that of Jorryn Fordyce . She was familiar. Far too familiar for Reina. She shook her head, trying to keep her gaze off the Echani. Instead, Reina strolled over towards the door instead, inspecting it for a moment. Looks like those Mechu-deru lessons would come in handy...At least that was her thought process before she saw the acid being thrown towards the metal. Well. Acid would be a good weapon against the undead as well...

"...I could have just hacked the door open."

Reina muttered quietly, her voice somewhat disguised though even with the voice modulator, the melodic nature of her voice wasn't fully hidden. She shook her head, turning her attention away from the door to keep her gaze on their surroundings, her hand tightly gripped around the hilt of Pequod. The silver-blade had yet to be ignited but she was braced for any kind of attack.

​

 

[Fenn Stag]

​

Fenn unnerved people.

That much he knew for a fact. It was helped him be the violent, capable man he was. He was tall, looming, mean, a Mandalorian, and with his bouts of insanity, had a reputation for unpredictably. Which was true. He felt himself go sometimes, madness taking hold. But never much more than the thoughts. He was always in control of his hands his hands his hands his hands his lovely breaking hands his hands to break and to crush and to bite and t o t e a r a p

a

r

t

rip

and

tear, despite what people may think. Just intrusive thoughts nowadays much more than insanity. He was not doing anything glamorous for the Black Sun. No defiant odds, no difficult bounties, no extractions of assets and no murder and no assassination. No, he was here to do one thing:

Be mean, look scary, and protect Velzari Tharn .

Interestingly, Fenn, while armed, did not carry any weapons in his hands. However, a careful, or not so careful observation, would note that he was wearing crushgaunts. That alone constituted a good weapon, and also the fact that Fenn was generally a foot taller and about fifty pounds bigger than the average human or near-human. But, he doubted the Diarchy wanted a fight. Reasonable men did not meet in such lengths of secrecy to brawl or to assassinate. No, they would've been shot out of orbit if that was the case. So many times he had led bounties or followed them in ships. That was when the getting was good, not the ground or planet-side. Catching someone in space was always easier. Less risk for being caught, less evidence, and certainly more certainty that someone was dead if they were floating out into space. Or in the case of the Senatorial Aide that tried to blackmail the Black Sun, tied and kicked out of the airlock into a star. That was more to make a point than to hide evidence.

And, admittedly, it was a little funny.

He pushed happy thoughts aside, waiting for instructions or the others to speak. He had nothing to say, just people to observe.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective 1: Vigos Summit
Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Clarion | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Tags: Velzari Tharn Fenn Stag | OPEN

---

Not all shadow sin Smuggler's Basin behaved as one would expect to. One of those shadows, stretched almost too long across the floor of the forgotten Hutt palace, curved around some broken pillars and cracked mosaics, seemed to almost turn liquid for a blink of an instant. The liquid seemed to deepen, a forming in its very center and then spreading outward like ink spilled across the water.

A silhouette moved out of that dark inky pool, taking on the shape of a woman, her outline sharpening with every breath as the gloomy shadows peeled away from her form, sliding off her skin like oil under light, pooling briefly behind her before evaporating silently. For one moment, she merely stood there, taking in the planet's air with her eyes half closed, waiting for the final specks of shadow to release themselves off her fingertips.

And then the eyes opened, their glowing green casting her light on her near vicinity. Scherezade grinned, and used every muscle within her for self control, to keep herself from saying something slightly too cheesy, like Honey, I'm home!

She inhaled all the scents of the place. Smoke, sansanna, old grease… This could be a very fun place indeed, if she were here to have fun. Though she was decked in her usual ridiculous amount of gear, she hadn't actually come here looking for a fight. There was a meeting, something about higher uppities and people with connections.

It was hilarious to her. Her, of all people, somehow becoming someone with connections. Business connections. Intel connections, old contacts returning to their positions and informing her… It was, by every measure, a new life for her. Not in the fact that these things were happening, but that there was external validation of those things.

Her boots made no sound against the cold floor as she moved forward, weaving with ease through the labyrinthine hallways. She didn't need a map. All she needed was her sense of blood scenting, following it to find where people were beginning to seat themselves. The deeper into the palace she went, the thicker the air grew, laced with spice and anticipation. Slowly, voices began to filter through the haze with deep murmurs, polite laughter, and tones that belonged to people who definitely saw themselves as untouchable. It was almost a shame she hadn't come here to remove a few heads from their attached bodies.

Scherezade's grin widened. The final corridor opened into the grand hall, the reappropriated throne room now turned into something that looked a little more like your common council chamber.

Without a word, the Sithling stepped across the threshold, every movement of her body making it seem as though she belonged there, had always belonged there. She moved between rows of guards and attendants until she reached the empty chair at the table. It was hers now, even if she didn't bend over to lick it first.

Not a word spoken. Not a gesture made. She just sat in it, enjoying the faint creak of the old leather, and crossed one leg over the other. Her glowing green eyes flicked lazily from one face at the table to the next, memorizing, and taking note of who was there as well.

For a heartbeat, it seemed as though nothing moved. The air itself seemed to stiffen, as though holding its breath. Then, somewhere down the table, a chair scraped against the floor, sharp and nervous. Scherezade tilted her head toward the sound, the movement slow, deliberate, predatory.

She was here now, settled, unbothered, and quietly daring or not daring anyone in the room to make her explain herself. Someone usually did.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
V I G O S - S U M M I T​

​

Through the sealed window high in his palace, Velzari looked upon the winding causeway of Smuggler’s Basin. Like so many crime dens, it was conceived by the Hutt Cartel but was left malnourished and unloved—until Black Sun rose to shine on Dandoran. Now, the Basin is a beating heart once again. A living ecosystem where opportunity and power thrive.

Market stalls manned by merchants peddle anything from street food and herbs to blaster components and speeder mods. There’s a cantina on nearly every corner, some featuring exotic dancers and good music while others boast hookah bars and fight pits. Overhead, metal catwalks line the ceiling and give Black Sun enforcers a bird’s eye view of the streets below. Crime was abundant—sanctioned, even—but it was controlled. The Vigos knew everything that went on in Smuggler’s Basin, and by extension, so did the Underlord.

Prince Velzari grinned through the viewpoint at his people below, then turned to face the large wooden table that occupied the throne room. Many of the chairs were filled by aliens and scum, but a few humanoid faces were among the assortment. Most were Vigos. Some were affluent “friends.” A small few were unfamiliar.

Other men would tremble at the sight of a new face in his throne room. Imperials would sound klaxon alarms, the Republic would scream for their Jedi pets to come running… Black Sun smiled and waited. The Underlord was confident and comfortable. He knew that his defenses would have grounded a ship if the occupants were troublesome. If they slipped through and meant to harm the Shadow Council or the Underlord himself, that’s was Fenn Stag was here for: to squeeze brains from skulls like toothpaste from a bottle with his crushgaunts.

There was nothing to fear, only business to be done.

“Greetings, my friends and… friends to be,” Velzari welcomed with literal open arms as he stepped to his throne. He stood behind the chair, looked over the assembled faces from the head of the table. His left hand wrapped around the back of the chair like a king wielding a scepter. Black manicured nails gently tapped against the leather cushion in a cascade from pinky to pointer.

With his right, he gestured as he spoke.

“We have much to discuss,” the Underlord almost purred. “Let us begin by welcoming the Diarchs and their attaché.”

Tags:
[BSS] Vigos | Fenn Stag | Scherezade deWinter | OPEN
[DIA] Diarch Rellik | Diarch Reign | Laphisto | OPEN​

 

[Morné Karn]

Objective 1: Fenn Stag Velzari Tharn Scherezade deWinter

The haze of spice and smoke did little to dull his senses; if anything, it made the scent of credits and quiet fear sharper. Around the long table, power collected in silks and armor, masks of civility stretched thin over ambition.

He said nothing at first. Words were for later. Instead, Morné observed. He watched who deferred to whom, who pretended not to notice the green-eyed woman make a deliberately slow arrival. The Underlord's chosen venue was a relic of corruption, but it suited him fine. The ghosts of old deals still lingered on the table and the Black Sun had come to make new ones.

Morne murmured a polite welcome along with the table. The faintest smile touched his mouth. It never reached his eyes. He was an opportunist. His reach had grown and he saw no real difference between business and criminal opportunities. One was as ruthless as the other, as far as he was concerned.

What, if anything, was the difference between lives he had ruined by destroying companies against those whose blood he had spilled with his bare hands to reach the top of his district on Denon?

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

WORM IN THE APPLE

Zee had been working on gaining access via the door's port when they had heard commotion. The familiar whine of a vessel and its engines powering down. Without many places to go, there was a limited option of what to do next. With columns an a bit of a crevice, Persephone tried to hide in its shadows while they investigated this shuttle. Zee had the thought of hiding well enough so they wouldn't be seen then merely walking in behind whoever it was.

It was hard to hide a pink bodyguard droid.

Then a woman started talking to her. In a weird voice. Almost like horror-holo at the theater right before there was a jump scare on the screen. It was unnerving and frankly a little odd in her opinion. Given the crew of vagabonds behind this woman, perhaps she shouldn't be surprised by anything about to come her way.

"You sound psychotic Miss."

Manners, even despite the situation. Probably shouldn't piss off those with guns despite having Zee at her disposal. Standing up, she brushed an invisible speck of dirt off her pant leg before taking in the wider group once again. Persephone hoped they weren't pirates. She hated pirates with a burning passion.

Zee remained in front of her, as he should, but didn't say or do anything just yet. Persephone knew he was calculating the situation and the threat.

"If you and your friends are going in there its filled with not quite dead sentients."

Jorryn Fordyce | CT-312 | Reina Daival | V1-L8​

 

[Zharrfo]

VIGOS SUMMIT
Velzari Tharn | Fenn Stag | Scherezade deWinter | Morné Karn

The heavy durasteel slabs slammed against cracked walls with a thunderous clang. A gust of smoke and cold night air rolled through the chamber. Then came the sound: low, guttural, and unmistakable. Zharrfo's growl filled the hall as the massive Wookiee stomped into the room, each step rattling the floor tiles.

His translator droid, HX-7, hovered at his shoulder. Static flickered through its vocabulator as it chirped in haste, "Vigo Zharrfo of the Black Sun acknowledges his arrival."

Acknowledges. That was generous. The Wookiee didn't acknowledge anything. He claimed space simply by existing in it. His black scarred hide gleamed beneath dim lights, thick cords of muscle flexing beneath his ceremonial harness. He didn't bow. Didn't greet. He just moved through the room like a prowling rancor, unhurried, confident, and radiating violence barely restrained.

The gathered crime lords and attachés parted as he passed, more out of instinct than respect. Zharrfo's yellow eyes swept over them all. Predators recognizing pretenders.

He grunted, a sound between laughter and contempt, before his gaze caught on a woman ( Scherezade deWinter ). Still and coiled, her composure too perfect to be natural. Her eyes glowed in the dark like the forest's own ghosts.

Zharrfo stared. A long, silent, assessing look. The look wasn't lustful; it was curious. She had the bearing of someone who thought herself untouchable. He admired that. It made people interesting before they broke. The droid caught a muttered rumble from him and translated without prompting, its voice dry as durasteel:

"Vigo Zharrfo notes the woman's calm. Says she would make a fine slave."

The air between them tightened, a pulse of tension swallowed by the hum of repulsorlifts outside. Zharrfo's only response was a low chuckle, deep and rumbling. Then he moved again, massive shoulders brushing the edge of her chair as he came to stand beside her, folding his arms.

No words. No apology. Just the sound of slow, deliberate breathing.

His gaze turned toward the head of the table, to Velzari Tharn, the Prince of the Underworld.

Let the talking begin.

 

[Laphisto]

The Black Sun Syndicate… Laphisto didn't know much about them, though what little intelligence he'd gathered painted them as a shadowy mirror of the Hutt Cartel he had dealt with more than twenty years ago back when the Lilaste Order was still clawing its way into relevance. That chapter of his life had long since closed; debts were paid, reputations earned, and enemies buried. Yet even with that behind him, this new syndicate left him uncertain.

The Hutts were predictable. Greed, pride, and theatrics one could always see them coming. The Black Sun, however, was another matter entirely. They moved differently organized, surgical, and dangerously ambitious. Throwing their lot in with the Galactic Empire over Artesia had raised enough eyebrows across the galaxy, but now, inviting the Diarchy to one of their so-called "functions"? That suggested a far deeper game at play.

Laphisto stood silently behind the Diarchs, his LO-20D rifle resting across his forearm, the heavy weapon almost an extension of his body. His broadsaber hung mag-locked at his waist, the faint hum of its internal stabilizer a comfort more than a warning. Technically, he was more than a bodyguard much more. As the Diarchy's Chief Military Executive and the High Commander of the Lilaste Order, his word alone could move fleets and armies. But tonight, rank and title meant nothing. His role was simple: protection, observation, readiness.

At seven feet tall, draped in the sigil of Clan Ordo, and flanked by the imposing sweep of his wings, he hardly needed to announce his authority. Presence alone did the work for him. In the dim glow of the Black Sun's gathering hall, he looked every bit the sentinel silent, watchful, and calculating, a soldier forged by centuries of war now standing in the court of criminals.

Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Velzari Tharn Fenn Stag

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Vigo’s summit
Tags: Laphisto Diarch Rellik Scherezade deWinter Velzari Tharn Fenn Stag Morné Karn Zharrfo
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

---

The Diarchy had come to Dandoran, literally, both Reign and his brother Rellik had come to the summit planned by the “Underlord”. Reign was dressed in his armored uniform today, his entire nation was at war readiness. Between the open conflict with the Mandalorians, and the recent attempt by the High Republic to abscond with Diarchy citizens, Reign was ready to burn the galaxy.

The Diarch had not often consulted with the criminal element, that was much more his brother’s forte. Yet both Diarchs had been taught to use all weapons at their disposal.

As Reign looked about the room he noticed the assortment of beings gathered there, from the Falleen Underlord, to the Wookie Vigo that had just arrived. He considered whether or not he’d be able to fight his way out if he’d needed to. Then smiled softly to himself as he played the scenario in his head.

Turning when his host mentioned the Diarchy, Reign put on his best diplomat’s smile and responded.

“The Diarchy is honored to be welcomed to the table, Lord Tharn. It is our hope that we may come to a mutual understanding and friendship”

He bowed slightly, basing his grandiose behavior upon the Underlords own flamboyance, and took his seat.

 

[V1-L8]

"...I could have just hacked the door open."

Reina muttered quietly, her voice somewhat disguised though even with the voice modulator, the melodic nature of her voice wasn't fully hidden.

"Next time I'll let you serenade the locking mechanism. Besides, you seem to talk faster than you act." The YVH quipped at the adjacent mercenary Reina Daival . Toxic fumes wafted away from the door as the xenoboric acid continued to eat through. Effectively widening the corrosive hole by liquifying the dense material. Sections of the door fell away in chunks of green and gray mush that pooled on the floor below. Floor that was soon eaten away as well.

" If any of you would like to donate your lungs to science, feel free to take a nice deep breath. Heheheh." V1-L8 cracked as the structure cooled and took accouple steps forward examining the inside of the base that he could see. Optics switching spectrums of light rapidly and scanning a section of the interior. According to his photorecptors and sensors, the power was still active inside but disabled. There was no movement inside nor biological life, but there was traces of dried blood on the corridor down the hall. Etched in scratch marks.

Was that from the living or the dead? His head turned to stare at the commenter from earlier. Unholstering the carbine underneath his trench coat, the droid readied and primed the E5 Blaster carbine with a simple click of its safety setting. The droids other hand slid into a utility pocket, when his off hand was seen again it was equipped with Blast knuckles. As the acid began to recede deeper into the foundation and earth below, making it safer to trek across the threshold, V1-L8 prepared to take point.

His foot taking one step before a wicked idea crossed his programming. A single eye fell back on the commenter from before. The one with the silly vocabulator. " Your up hotshot!!" He suddenly exclaimed aloud. " You, lead us in and take point." He ordered smoothly before leveling his E5 Carbine at the merc from earlier.

" It is not, as you say, a request..." He added lowly and let the words hang in the air.

Tags: Jorryn Fordyce Persephone Dashiell CT-312

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective 1: Vigos Summit
Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Clarion | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Tags: Velzari Tharn Diarch Reign Laphisto Zharrfo Morné Karn Fenn Stag Velzari Tharn | OPEN

---

Scherezade took a long breath, looking at those who had gathered and were gathering still. Most faces, she did not recognize, but it didn't matter. She had made the decision to come and make a loud statement with her mere presence, and so far it seemed like her goal had been fulfilled. What thoughts crowded the back of her mind in that moment, she succeeded in stilling them as the event began to pick up, with Velzari Tharn addressing the crowd, welcome the Diarchs.

Her glowing gaze snapped to Diarch Reign as the corners of her mouth curled into a wicked little smile. The two had met prior to this day, and she remembered their conversation fondly. Which was exactly why, though she hoped it didn't show, she was surprised to see him there. Working with the Black Sun seemed, at least to her, counter intuitive to what his desires had been. Still, she gave him a nod of respect.

And once the event was over, she knew, she was going on one of those wild runs that included random targets to punch, just to get the energy and adrenaline out of her muscles. How did these people do this so often? Only a few moments here and already she was ready for a fight, though she knew it wouldn't serve a single one of her interests right now.

And then there was that butthole.

Scherezade's gaze snapped to Zharrfo. She didn't need his little droid to translate anything for her. Though her throat lacked the proper anatomy to make the required sounds, she understood Shyriiwook perfectly well.

"You're way too weak to keep me as a slave," she said, her voice as sweet as saccharine, the smile on her face now sharp enough to cut a shmuck, "But sure, you can try. I hope you're okay with waking up completely bald from head to toe. I could use a new parka."

She relaxed again in her seat, making a small motion with her chin to let the others know the meeting could continue without further interruptions on her part. Unless the Wookie took her challenge on. If that happened, all bets were off.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: V1-L8 Jorryn Fordyce
Location: Dandoran

She stood there for a moment, trying her hardest not to let out a sigh at the droid's lack of a brain. It made sense. They didn't have an actual brain. But by melting through the door, it meant that there wasn't any way to lock in the undead now after they found their prize. Instead more than likely, they'd have to either deal with all of the undead, or leave empty-handed.

Fortunately, Reina was already moving as soon as the door had been opened, igniting her lightsaber to use the silver light to illuminate her surroundings. Yet the comment from the droid caused an eyebrow to raise from beneath her helmet. This is why you didn't hire droids for these jobs. You had them do what they were good at. Cleaning up trash or scrubbing toilets. Otherwise they get delusions of grandeur and worry about themselves getting destroyed, as if droids had actual lives.

She glanced in CT-312 's direction, as if to ask her if the bucket of bolts was being serious before Reina gave a small shrug of her shoulders. There was that side of her that wanted to use mechu-macture and watch the droid explode into dozens of tiny little pieces but she had a feeling that would come out of her paycheck. There was also the inevitable chance of betrayal, since you couldn't trust a clanker.

"Y'know, for a droid, you sound strangely afraid. Don't worry, I'm sure you can hide behind the girl."

Reina jabbed her thumb in the direction of Persephone Dashiell before reaching her hand down to grab her slugthrower from her side. There was a part of that debated loading it with Ion slugs, just because of the damned droid but that wouldn't do much against the undead. So instead she slotted in the four magazines she thought would be most effective. Armour piercing, explosive, incendiary and shrapnel rounds. All perfectly viable in her eyes. With her slugthrower in one hand, and Lightsaber in the other, Reina proceeded to maker her way through, not batting much of an eyelash at all the blood. If the people innocent had been torn apart, it made sense. And they weren't people Reina knew, so why would she have cared?

​

 

[Velzari Tharn]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
V I G O S - S U M M I T​

​

Velzari eased into his seat as the Wookiee Vigo Zharrfo mused about the quality of slave Scherezade deWinter would make. Naturally, she was antagonized by the beast, but the Underlord just chuckled.

He accepted the woman’s nod as an end to the shenanigans and thus turned his attention back to the Diarchs. Reign had spoken first, and Velzari dipped his head in a bow as the beloved parlay between powers began.

“Your dominion has grown impressively in recent months. I am surprised that you have been successful in your endeavors so close to the Core without attracting the ire of the Galactic Alliance… though I suppose they have been rather preoccupied with more pressing matters as of late.”

The Empire. It was difficult to fight border wars when an Imperial uprising claimed Coruscant and spread eastward like ink through water.

“Black Sun has similarly taken advantage of their distraction. My organization played an… integral part in the Hapes Cluster’s secession from the Alliance. It’s regrettable that we have yet to do business on account of our astrographical distance, but that is an obstacle I foresee alleviating itself.”

Velzari smiled, confidence tugging at his lips. He went into every mission, meeting, and battle with the belief that he would return successful. With the network he had at his fingertips, it was hard not to. But the Underlord knew there was always a chance of failure; the galaxy favored no one person entirely. The Galactic Empire refused a generous deal on Makeb that saw shipments of isotope-5 fall into Sith hands instead. Perhaps the Diarchy would be wiser.

“Friendship with Black Sun is extremely lucrative,” Velzari enticed, “if you play your cards right.” Those in the room who worked proudly beneath Black Sun’s banner—or those who relied on it to feed their families—knew precisely what the Underlord meant.

“We’ve blockaded planets, kidnapped a galactic leader, and attacked the Jedi in their own temple. We bartered an entire sector from the Alliance and then destroyed their flagship over Atrisia.” There was a darkness in the Falleen’s eyes that suggested he enjoyed the havoc he wrought upon the enemy of his syndicate. But something else was in his eyes, too. Something more… human.

“Black Sun is a gift to those who see our vision. Lawless systems fall in line. Gangs cease their petty turf wars and work for us instead… or be destroyed. Empires shift their plans of domination, Alliances free their own people, all at the will of Black Sun. We can benefit the Diarchy greatly—and dismember your enemies in turn.”

Tags:
[BSS] Vigos | Fenn Stag | Morné Karn | Scherezade deWinter | Zharrfo | OPEN
[DIA] Diarch Rellik | Diarch Reign | Laphisto | OPEN​

 

[Diarch Rellik]

He gave a small courteous nod toward Velzari. "Thank you for the welcome, Your Royal Highness."

His gaze slid briefly over the room, the muscle, the killers, the opportunists. It was nice to see. Scherezade deWinter - even if he was unsure what her status was among those involved. Had she been a smuggler or recon when they met before. Oh well. He folded his hands on the table, completely unbothered by where he was or who surrounded him.

Rellik's smile was small and easy as he listened.

"Distance may have kept us from meeting face-to-face," he admitted, voice light, "but we've worked through some of your brokers. Discretion and pay have been exemplary. I worked with the Hutts for a time; they had... charm. But I'll give you this. Festivals and fireworks have their place on Dantooine, and our tax man always collects." He felt Laphisto's presence at his back. For a moment he wondered if Velzari would take bets on his wookie or the Diarch's lizard. The last bit getting a small chuckle out of his lips. They were not soldiers, they were killers. "But it takes something special to put this much ambition under one house." For those around him it would seem the Diarch outright admired the level of politics and backstabbing all of these people must have done. It was fascinating.

Rellik leaned forward just enough to make it conversational. "I'll put the first pawn down. That is one of the best parts. A simple bounty payment to run some additional jobs in High Republic space. Get your orphans to put up posters that THR can not protect its Jedi or its people. Green light your crews for bonuses if they hit food shipments to their border worlds. Send me a bill every month. We'll settle in whatever currency you prefer."

Almost familial. "Pretty simple start. Lets see what we can build it into."

Fenn Stag Morné Karn Scherezade deWinter Zharrfo Velzari Tharn
Laphisto Diarch Reign

 

[Zharrfo]

VIGOS SUMMIT
Velzari Tharn | Fenn Stag | Scherezade deWinter | Morné Karn | Laphisto | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik

Zharrfo leaned his massive frame against the table, the move like a mountain settling. His breath came out in great, slow puffs that fogged the air and made the cutlery rattle. He didn't need to smile; his teeth bared in a snarl that said more than any words could.

When Scherezade's retort sliced through the room, Zharrfo's yellow eyes narrowed, his pupils becoming sharp pinpricks. A sound, deep and unsettling, rumbled from his chest; part laugh, part growl. It was low, amused, and tinged with approval. She had spirit, and that sharp edge pleased him. She might be small, but interesting prey made for a better hunt.

He briefly imagined, with a dark pleasure, the slow breaking of a proud will, the moment someone finally understood their place. That thought was a blade he kept sheathed for later. Now was not the time for games. Underlord Tharn's words flowed across the table like venom-laced honey, a mixture of promises and threats. Zharrfo could taste the plans, sharp and metallic.

So, he stayed silent.

He let the meeting unfold, a tide of schemes and coin that he didn't need to direct or comment on. When Velzari mentioned enemies, Zharrfo's shoulders twitched, a casual show of force. When work offers were laid out, his claws tapped once on the durasteel, a beat for the violence that would follow. He would do what was needed: smash couriers, burn convoys, make examples. Chaos was profitable.

Still, his gaze never left Scherezade. Even as he gave an almost imperceptible nod when a contract favored Black Sun, his attention remained a fixed, patient weight on her. He breathed slowly, heavily. The promise in his silence was clear: enjoy your arrogance, little one. There will be plenty of time to see whose spirit breaks.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective 1: Vigos Summit
Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Tags: Velzari Tharn Diarch Reign Laphisto Zharrfo Morné Karn Fenn Stag Velzari Tharn | OPEN

---

Scherezade relaxed further into her seat as the speeches began. She had nothing to add to them, had not been politically involved in anything that had recently taken place. Her claim to fame in events had been just using violence until success had reached on the side that happened to include the Black Sun and the Diarchy, and she was happily willing to do it again and again and again. Violence was fun.

Similarly, she had no idea what the Hapes thing was all about, and she didn't know if it had happened during the months she'd purposefully avoided the holonet, or because the news just hadn't reached her through the rest of the noise. Both possibilities had an equal opportunity to be true.

Then came the list of things the Black Sun had done. She didn't giggle, trying to maintain professional expression. She'd been involved in some of those things but now wasn't the place to aura farm about it. And Scherezade knew what she wanted. When Velzari Tharn mentioned the things that could happen by the will of the Black Sun, she knew she wanted a more official in. That was, after all, why she had come that day.

Now was Diarch Rellik 's turn. Again the man surprised her. She knew of his goals and wills regarding the Diarchy, but she hadn't expected him to be so supportive of such a petty move. She liked it. Probably not enough to be the one hanging flyers herself, but still.

And it seemed like only now did her focus take notice of Zharrfo , who had never removed his gaze from her.

She turned to face him again, looking at him, taking note of the pupils and was pretty sure it wasn't due to any specific spice in his blood stream. But he kept watching her with like he was some sort of predator thinking he was seizing up prey.

To that, she only had one response to give the male.

Scherezade made a face, aimed directly at him, and held it for several long seconds. After that, she just shrugged and returned her attention to the rest of the meeting, totally cool with ignoring the hairy butthole for the time being.

 

[CT-312]

//: Jorryn Fordyce Persephone Dashiell //:
//: V1-L8 Reina Daival //:
//: Imperial Facility, Dandoran Southern Continent //:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: Halcyon Armour| M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack| M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Wrist Mounted APG | Ancile Shield | Navi/Barca //:
//: FAE/M-06 Eight Blade Razorline Projector| FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II//:
//: WEAPONS: VW 864 Maser Rifle | LO-18D | M.I. Model 7 shotgun | LO-22S | Sunshot Pistol | M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: LO-KI/22 Standard Slug Round //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective 2: Worm In The Apple //:​

The transport bucked once as it cut through Dandoran’s lower atmosphere. Turbulence rattled the cabin with a deep metallic groan. Loose kit and webbing shuddered on their hooks. CT-312 stood. Mag-boots locked to the transport’s floor plating. Unaffected by the rumbling. Her hands moved methodically as she began her final equipment check. Making sure everything was secure and ready. CT-312 drew each weapon one by one. Inspecting the chambers and frame. Sights aligned and power packs topped. Holstering one before moving on to the next.

Even through the helmet, CT-312 felt eyes on her. Not bothering to lift her head to know it was, Jorryn Fordyce . Unbothered, her tone came out flat through the helmet’s modulator. “Last chance to put on something practical.” The Scout wasn’t expecting Jorryn to agree. She never did. Especially when it comes to fashion.

CT-312 had been requested… by Jorryn, with the Princess’s ( Quinn Varanin ) approval. Little intel had been given in advance. Just valuable data and undead presence. Brosi flickered through her mind. The infected blight and rotting corpses coming back to life. When she was told about fighting the dead, CT-312 was unfazed. This couldn’t be that bad.

As the transport finally touched down, the ramp lowered with a hiss of cold air. CT-312 stepped off. Boots sinking slightly into the dust-scarred concrete. Eyes scanned the towering facility’s doors. Sealed durasteel slabs. Jorryn’s voice broke the quiet. Mentioning a slicer. CT-312’s single brow arched behind the visor. Should she say she could open the door? Just as she was about to open her mouth—

CT-312’s HUD lit up.

Movement. Tiny and hiding. Two signatures. A Biological signature behind an inorganic shell. The Scout’s rifle snapped up in an instant. Muzzle aimed towards the signatures. Sights steady.

It was a droid.
A pink droid.

Eyes tracked the unit as it rushed over to its owner. A young girl in far too fine clothes for an abandoned death zone like this facility. CT-312 didn’t lower her guard. Cautiously trailing behind Jorryn as she approached to soothe the girl.

"You sound psychotic Miss."

The voice unfiltered and sharp. Unimpressed.

CT-312 paused. Head snapped towards the direction of the sound. ‘Is that a kid?’ A faint amused smirk tugged beneath her helmet. “She’s got a point.” Lowering her weapon. BARCA chimed, scrolling text of notifications on her HUD. Two signatures converging on their position. A familiar IFF and an unknown. Her grip tightened on her rifle. “Don’t know why a kid is out here. But at least she has some survival instincts. Wouldn’t want to walk to a bunch of armed strangers either.”

The girl’s pink droid placed itself in front as if to act as a barrier between them. Calmly mentioning the not so dead, dead. “Noted.” CT-312 gave a curt nod. Her eyes snapped towards the direction of the door.

Another droid arrived. Wearing a leather trench coat and a spacer's hat. Then came the new DeathDrop recruit. Masked and armored. At least someone dressed appropriately. The Outlaw dressed droid immediately fired acid at the door. The durasteel hissed and sagged as it melted into bubbling pits. Eating through both the door and flooring. The droid was… talkative. Eager. CT-312 observed as it primed itself with the weapons it brought.

Blinking once. Slowly. CT-312 resisted the urge to press a palm to her visor. She could feel a dull pressure beginning to form behind her eyes. This was going to be a long operation. The completely ruined door didn’t help. More effort was going to be needed when they made their extraction. Great.

Ahead of them, the new recruit ignited their lightsaber as they moved in first. CT-312’s visor locked with the recruit’s as they glanced back at her direction, giving a small shrug. She subtly shook her helmet side to side. Yup. A long mission.

Just as the recruit made themselves known, they slipped ahead without hesitation. CT-312 shifted part of her attention back toward Jorryn and the child. Her visor stayed angled toward the Outlaw Droid and the ruined doorway. Monitoring for any movements that shouldn’t be. "Still want to go in?” The question came out through her modulator in a bored, almost exhausted monotone. The situation had unexpectedly changed with a kid now in the mix. CT-312 waited, rifle steady, for confirmation.