Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction [BSS, ME, SO, TIC] PROPHET MOTIVE | Junction of Voss & 3 Empty Hexes (see thread)

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LOCATION : Ka-Voss, Tower of Prophecy
OBJECTIVES : Carnage, Profit
EQUIPMENT : Lightsaber, Disruptor Pistol, Respirator, Armorweave Coat, Hex Grip (right), Ashin's Glove (left)
TAGS : Ronhar Tane Ronhar Tane (Opposition)

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The Force was...pushy, as Vestra understood it. Vast, ever-present, vaguely sentient, and, crucially, connected to the hearts and minds of every living thing. It had its own ideas, its own motives, and ways to push its agenda forward. That was the whole reason Prophecy was as reliable as it was - too many people connected to the Force letting it use them instead of taking its power for themselves. Made them predictable. Made them boring.

None of the philosophy was why Vestra had started killing, though.

No, that was just because she hated being outsmarted.

Near the ground floor of the Tower of Prophecy, Vestra unceremoniously dumped the disemboweled body of a Voss Mystic through a window, then scrounged for a cigarra to shove into her mouth. She was supposed to be capturing them, for the Syndicate and the Covenant to use, but when this one had started blathering on and on about her approach being foreseen, her doom at the hands of Voss's allies...

She lost her temper. She was Sith. It happened.

Shame about the city. Pretty place.

The Acolyte leaned against the window, lit her cigarra with a snap of her fingers and a spark of lightning.

She figured she had a few minutes before someone - Jedi, Imp, whoever - stormed in and she had a decent fight on her hands.

Until then, she'd enjoy a smoke and the view.
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IMPLIED ODDS
Location: Voss-Ka
Objective: Save the Mystics
Opposition: Kinley Pryse Kinley Pryse


The galaxy works in mysterious ways. At least that’s what people like to say. Truth is, it wasn’t all the mysterious. It was always power, greed, credits, self-preservation. The people come and go, the factions change names and allegiances, but everything stayed pretty much the same in the long run. The galaxy works in funny ways. That’s a more accurate statement. The humor wasn’t lost on Captain Pal Veda that he was here on Voss-Ka executing a contract posted by Ephraim Labors on behalf of the Empire. Excuse me, The Imperial Confederation. It wasn’t that long ago that he helped wreck the great Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen ‘s flagship Predator, or when he joined the Jedi’s failed attempt to take back the Tython station before the whole blackwing outbreak. But the Imps were actually working with the Jedi this time. The Black Sun and the Sith Covenant were now the “bad guys,” so to speak.

Not that Pal cared all that much. Credits were credits. Kidnapping innocent clerics wasn’t really his game, but he’d taken Black Sun’s money before on odd jobs here and there. He may even know some of the poor folks on the other side of his blaster today. Such was the nature of this life.

Most everyone was planetside at this point, including yours truly. Pal was able to navigate toward the Tower of Prophecy with little resistance, but he had his finger on the trigger and a toothpick clamped a little too tightly between his teeth. Armed fighters on both sides occupied themselves with small skirmishes, and he was pretty sure he’d heard someone yelling about Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex and some droids entering the arena. That was hopefully someone else’s problem today. The ole gunslinger was traveling light, just an IB-94, a backup holdout blaster, a vibro-knife, and a couple of thermals. Not enough firepower for the real big bad. He’d let the Jedi deal with that.

As he approached the Tower, he saw a few unlucky corpses near the entrance. Unbeknownst to him, this was the handiwork of Glissara Glissara just moments earlier. From the looks of things, Pal was running late. The Black Sun, Sith, whoever did this, was already inside. At least he wouldn’t have to waste time explaining to the dead guards that he was actually here to help them.

Pal picked up his pace, letting his pointed barrel lead him through the entryway into a courtyard.

PEW! PEW! PEW!

That didn’t take long. Red bolts zipped by, and he immediately tucked himself behind a stone monument for cover.

“You ain’t Black Sun!” One of the pirates yelled at him from across the way.

“You good as dead, mate!” A second called out.

Well, you’re right about the first part. Pal flicked his toothpick in one direction then popped out the other side, blaster on target before the thugs could even register his move.

PEW! PEW!

Two bodies dropped like sacks of meiluroon fruit, carbon scoring on their shirts almost covering the fresh holes in their chests. He twirled the pistol a couple of times before catching the grip in his palm and casually walking over to the henchmen to confirm what he already knew. Dead as a youngling after Anakin Skywalker visits a Jedi Temple. You’d think Black Sun could afford better gunmen than this.

Pal retrieved the comm link from the belt of the smaller man and slid it into his pocket. Never know when that might come in handy.

Now, shall we rescue some mystics? He strode across the courtyard toward the main building, cool and casual, but always at the ready.
 
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VOSS

It was odd. Ever since he landed on this planet and started his mission he felt…off. Normally he would not even bother with petty beings for information. More often than not they’d become a sniveling mess begging for mercy, delaying his progress. It was inefficient in his eyes.

So why now did he take this route? Is his hunger starting to get the best of him? Ignati had been oddly quiet as of late.

He eyed her for a moment, taking in her visible equipment, her stance and the look in her eyes. His saber disengaged as he clipped it back to his belt. He would never admit it, but the way he went about getting his answers certainly was not his proudest moment. Orders were orders though. The scent of heat filled the hall as he took two slow steps towards his opponent.

“Allow me to grant you The Warrior’s Waltz”

He would say nothing from this point on. The upcoming battle was now his focus, and he was hungry.

The force erupted through his body, his strength. Speed and physical body all strengthened. The area not only felt hot to the touch but there was an air of coldness that flooded the both of them. The very coldness that slowly built to a feeling of electricity to the air.

He would not believe that this individual was not working with the Jedi. Even then, she stood as an opposition. That alone was enough for him to take care of this one. Almost like a blur Varin dashed up to her, mace positioned to attempt a jab at her torso, the heat that radiated off of it felt like an oven. His feet took a widened stance for stability, planting himself like a wall that held up this very building. Small arcs of dark purple lightning arced off his body from the amplification.

Perhaps Ignati was trying to sneak control. He could care less about the mission, it was always hunger and rage that was his driving force. It was concerning.



 

Tag: Varin Mortifer Varin Mortifer
Location: Voss

Reina just stood casually, letting the Force flow through her. There was plenty of aggression still held inside her heart, but Whisperwind was at its best when Reina was in control of her emotions. Like a gentle breeze upon the waves. Yet her eyebrow perked up at the sight of Varin not using his lightsaber. Interesting to say the least.

Heat. It was good that Reina had brought an alternative weapon. Whisperwind did not stand up as well against the heat. Either way as soon as Varin had moved, Reina stepped forward to meet the strike, using the technique of Iaido to her advantage. Sliding Whisperwind out of its scabbard with nary a single sound to clash up against the mace, a wince as the shock of the blow recoiled against her. A sound as if waves crashing against the shore echoing through the corridor, as frost spread across the mace from the point of where Whisperwind had connected...before the frost quickly evaporated from the heat.

Her spare hand then slipped towards her vibroblade in its scabbard, pulling it out in a reverse grip before slashing it out towards Varin's waist. She would use whatever she had at her disposal. Some might see it as dishonourable, but she would show her a true fighter went to battle. Either way, it allowed her more defensive capabilities with two blades as opposed to the one.

Her cloak fluttered with her movements. Reina would not lie to herself. She was enjoying this fight. It was different to the Imperials she had cut through. Back on Atrisia, when she still held onto the ideals of being a good Jedi. But Reina in a way had taken Colette's words to heart. Reina was not a good Jedi. She never would be. She could not forgive. She could not forget. But she could fight. And that is what she will do. And if it helped her save an innocent here or there? Then so be it.​
 


VOSS

The clash was hard, immediate. A good test of her reflexes and she did not disappoint. Her blade made contact with the mace, the frost tricking up the handle until it was met by flame. Mist was left in its wake. It was a quick flash of movement that caught his attention, by instinct his free hand gripped her wrist as she drew her vibroblade. It was just in the nic of time, any more delay and he would have suffered a mortal wound.

Varin always had more than two weapons on him though. He trained his entire body to fight as a weapon. Fists, legs, even his head. An animalistic growl escaped him as he slightly leaned back, kicking his foot towards her sternum.

He had been on the receiving end of a vibroblade before. It was not something he was going to re-experience.

As his opponent was distracted by the kick his free hand jerked downward, willing the force to rip a section of the ceiling down towards them. The stonework above them cracked and rattled as dust fell first as the only warning, before a heavy section of stone fell straight down. He could sense her drive for battle and a smirk crept to his lips. Someone who loved the thrill of battle just like him.

He could tell this was not going to be a quick fight, and this excited him.


 
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Location: Voss-Ka, Voss
Objective: Protect the Voss Mystics
Tags: Joseph Torson Joseph Torson Glissara Glissara

The convoy was rolling slow, with Voss loyalists in tow with Imperial soldiers. It was not exactly an ideal detail, keeping a bunch of non-combatants safe from an enemy that could theoretically strike from anywhere. Because of this Tibera had stocked up on some special munitions to keep up with Sith a bit better. Intel suggested that enemies might ambush them at any time, that Sith Lords would even be present on the planet.

Fear was something that Tibera had felt very few times in the course of her time as a mercenary, but now was definitely the right time to be afraid. When fighting Sith, death was the best outcome. She'd heard stories of their sadistic tortures, the kind of things their prisoners might go through. No thanks, she'd rather eat her own disruptor and just get it over with.

These thoughts were better left out though, all her focus was going to need to be on the battlefield. Her HUD scanned before her, not catching much other than some birds flying strangely low to the ground. Three ravens, just above the treeline, an ill omen to be sure.

The ravens were enviable as creatures went, intelligent enough to be able to get by, but not enough to have the problems of humanity. They cared not for the whys and wherefores of the wars, only that they can grow fat off the carcasses of the slain. Maybe one day Tibera could become like them, free of the wars and able to move as she pleased. Unfettered by the constant ebb and flow of galactic conflict...

Thoughts like these kept hope in the young woman's heart. Hope that one day she might be a raven feasting on the scraps of another person's war. Poetry wasn't her strong suit, but such thoughts kept her mind at ease as she put more distance between herself and the city of Voss-Ka. With any luck, the enemy wouldn't be able to catch them. Their lumbering and mighty vehicles were enough of a deterrent to keep enemies at bay. Maybe even the Sith might decide that letting the Mystics leave the planet would be in their best interest? Fat chance of that!
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A-02 Verpine Shatter Autocannon
PBHR-01 Particle Beam Heavy Repeater
Repeater Optic System (Short Range)
Ammo Pack
 


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OBJECTIVE II: Dead Man's Hand
Dobwaren Estate, Bonadan

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Dominique turned to smile at Siv Kryze Siv Kryze even in the face of his customary frank appraisal of the circumstances. Her cheeks lifted as she slowly turned her head aside to look out over the crowd the man so 'admired' for their pragmatism. A soft, barely audible chuckle accompanied his appraisal.

"It pays to have an eye on people, and what they hold to in these times," she replied. A beat and she stepped in closer as she lowered the volume of her voice, "Take care, Warden, there are powerful forces with us tonight." Golden rings shifted to the left and to the right of Siv from behind their lilac glareshades. Plenty of vultures present. Not all of them merely opportunists.

The Mandalorian turned to depart before she had an opportunity to respond to his last observation. Didn't want her to divine if that was a compliment or an insult did he? Well, Dominique took it as a compliment regardless. Messy transitions of power could be exploited, but clean ones wasted fewer resources and resulted in a greater gain -- provided you were uncontested. Doubtful the day's affair would be so tidy.

Not about to let the man's matter-of-fact attitude bring down the mood, however, Dominique resumed her carousing with the locals and the movers in the corporate spaces. One Estate, even as well storied as Dobwaren's, was not the only thing on the menu. Good relations kept the stars spinning.

The Denonite paused near the edge of the room when she spied one, particularly powerful force drawing near the Estate. A dangerous one, but full of potential. Provided they could negotiate some sort of balance if only for a time. Since they weren't reaching out to her, perhaps it was time to go to the mountain. Not too eager though; she'd wait for him to arrive at the party and then see about paying Velzari Tharn Velzari Tharn a visit. Running outside to meet him would just look desperate, and that was something she was most certainly not.


 
The channel crackles with static as the connection stabilizes. In the distance, thunder rolls, painting the ruins of Ka-Voss in a dull red glow. Cables hang above me, still sparking faintly. I move carefully through the wreckage, coat brushing against my leg. The ground's covered with shards of transparisteel, spent casings, and a thick layer of ash.

A few melted speeder frames block the street ahead. On a cracked wall, someone scrawled The Sun Rises No More. Half burned, half erased. Can't help but smirk at the irony. The air stinks of scorched metal and oil thick enough to taste.

I stop at a corner and look toward the Tower of Prophecy. Half-collapsed, one side still glowing like a dying ember. A flicker of light at the top then darkness again.

My fingers find the comlink on my vest. I tap the channel open.

"Arris-sama, can you confirm the meeting point? Thanks you, this is Bob Taric. "

Only silence answers. The wind kicks up, dragging cinders and the high-pitched whine of a loose sign swinging somewhere behind me. I wait a moment, listening, then keep moving toward the tower, disappearing into the haze. I look my camera carefully, and my other material, i'm ready to take this interview, microphone, lights, and the most important, my clothing, is impeccable, no dirt, No creases, everything is perfect.

Arris Windrun Arris Windrun
 
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P R O PH E T_M O T I V E
Chapter I : Implied Odds

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
VOSS,
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
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The INV Obsidian Enforcer and it's pair of escorts emerged from hyperspace arriving in orbit of the Outer Rim world of Voss as the Red Right Hand made their entrance to the battlefield. Voss itself had been the victim of a recent incursion from the Black Sun and Sith elements who had taken control over the capital city and were now holding the Voss Mystics hostages. Fortunately for the Confederation, the Voss Mystics had foreseen the attacks thanks to their prophetic powers and had sent a request for aid well before the Black Sun and their Sith allies launched their attack, enabling the Confederation to better respond to such a heinous attack.

Now, the Red Right Hand, the personal enforcers of Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen would find themselves at Voss ready to execute Sularen's will and ensure that the Criminal Scum and their Sith allies would not escape with their desired prize. Before long, scores of Imperial Gunships would emerge from the hangar of the Obsidian Enforcer as they descended on Voss making their approach towards the Capital of Voss-Ka, ready to put an end to this treacherous attack.

Inside one of the Gunships, Captain Joseph Torson, the head of the Red Right Hand was busy making the final checks and adjustments to his equipment as he prepared to make landfall in the capital city and put an end to the machinations of the Underworld and their Sith allies. "Captain Torson" a voice blared through the comms. "We got confirmation of convoy protecting a group of Voss Mystics in the city outskirts being pursued by Sith Special Forces while attempting to escape." the voice stated.

"Bring us down to them. We'll deal with these so-called Special Forces." he responded in a cold and emotionless tone, as he holstered his Acid Rifle around his back. As instructed the Gunship would adjust it's course to head to the outskirts of Voss-Ka where it spotted the convoy traversing the cityscape with a group of Imperial soldiers and Mercenaries protecting them. The Gunship would soon begin to circle above them their doors wide open as Torson opened the comms to communicate with the convoy.

"This is Captain Joseph Torson to the convoy, i'm here to help evacuate the Voss Mystics and deal with whoever is chasing your group." he said while keeping an eye out for potential Sith pursuers on the ground.



 

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B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
D E A D - M A N ‘ S - H A N D


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The Dobwaren Estate was… nice enough. It certainly paled in comparison to Velzari’s palaces. Even Wheeta Palace, stained by Nal Hutta’s grime, felt more alive than this stuffy museum. That’s just how Corpos liked things, the Underlord reminded himself; polished monuments to credits without warmth or character.

Velzari shrugged. He was here to make deals with the CSA, not scope out real estate. Working his way into their minds and pockets didn’t mean he had to live here, after all.

Security was standard and notably quick. A few scans and a nod from the Espo at the door was all Velzari needed to enter the building. His inky robes spilled trailed behind his heels like a shroud of ink, black and deep. The gold adornments glittered beneath the chandeliers like tiny stars in the night sky. His boots, made from fine trell leather, thudded with authority. All the while, his Falleen physiology was encapsulating his body in a thin swirl of mood-altering pheromones—an added layer of persuasion should charm or credits fail him.

Amateurs would beeline for the richest Corpos in the room and throw themselves at the board with no shame, but not Velzari. The allure of Black Sun was potent enough to attract attention all on its own. Even a Vigo carried enough weight in the Outer Rim to make the kind of splash he was looking for tonight, but the Prince of Crime needs to stretch his legs every once in a while. So he grabbed a fluted glass of something alcoholic from a passing waiter’s tray and took it to a smaller parlor off the main hall.

With a manicured hand, the Underlord raised the glass to his lips and imbibed what he recognized as champagne, probably Hapan. He sipped, then scanned the room with interest. Ah, so many players. So many pawns. Where are the kings and queens?


 
IMPLIED ODDS
Location: Voss-Ka
Objective: Capture Mystics
Opposition: Laphisto Laphisto


The galaxy may not work in mysterious ways, but the Force certainly does. The seers residing in Voss-Ka’s Tower of Prophecy had a very special gift. They passed their lessons selectively, confining their precious power to a small number of dedicated monks that largely operated from this single sanctuary. These clerics believed they were untouchable — that they could protect themselves with their singular ability to see into the future. Perhaps they were right. Their distress call went out before the first Black Sun henchman dirtied his boots on the planet. But the day was young still.

The imposing figure swiftly navigated the cobblestone streets beyond the gates of the Tower. Trusting mercenaries to capture and hold the city had been a mistake. The Black Sun had failed. The mystics were scattering, hiding, searching for a way out. And the Imperial Confederation had allied with the Jedi to come to the rescue. Kryos spat at the thought. A perfect example of why he turned his back to the Jedi Order.

But was Kryos so different? He was no Sith. Yet he now walked among them, seeking to curry favor so that he could access their knowledge, continue growing his own power and skills. A bit ironic. But the Dark Jedi cared little about the contradiction. He was singularly focused at the present.

He could sense their fear. The cowards! Two Voss monks believed they could escape their captors by fleeing the Temple through an unmarked, unmapped tunnel. But Kryos was a hunter. He followed them out, gaining ground with each long stride. The stalker knew he was closing in on his prey. It was only a matter of time before he would overtake them.
 
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P R O P H E T_M O T I V E
Objective II : Dead Man's Hand

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
BONADAN,
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
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Sularen did not mind Governor Visconti's comment on his choice of clothing. After all, most of his attires were either Military Uniforms or designed with a military aesthetic although that simply had to do with the fact that he spent most of his time managing the military forces of the regimes he had served across the years. Nevertheless he could always use a change in style beyond the military aesthetic especially if he was going to make more public appearances. "I wouldn't mind that. I could use some more diversity in my wardrobe." the Supreme Commander responded.

Then the Governor would inquire on what she and Sularen sought to gain from this funeral just for clarity. As Sularen prepared to offer a response he then caught a glimpse of him, the so-called Prince of the Underworld himself Velzari Tharn. If the Underlord of the Black Sun was here then it clear that they were also eying up the late Dobwaren's assets which changed a lot. "We're here to pay our respects to the late Dobwaren and get a bit cozy with the Board of Directors so that we can eventually gain their favor and secure Dobwaren's assets, keeping them out of the hands of other parties that might be interested like the Black Sun and the Sith Order." he further responded.

"Speaking of the Black Sun, the Prince of the Underworld is here." he said, as he clinched his fists. Despite initially viewing the Black Sun as a potential ally, he had noticed a subtle shift in their attitude towards the Confederation, first with their unilateral descision to annul their privious agreement with the Confederation, then with their bounty that they placed on Sularen's head. Then that subtle shift became more overt, as the Black Sun aligned itself with the Confederation's main ideological rival, the Galactic Empire and then got involved themselves in attacks on Centares and Voss right next to Imperial space.

Sooner or later, open conflict would erupt between the Imperial Confederation and the Black Sun and at this point it was merely a matter of time before either side decided to cross that line. "If the Black Sun is involved then some of the members of the Board might already be compromised, which complicates things for us" he further proclaimed.



 
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Objective 3
The gravity well mines hung in the trade lanes as waiting snares, ready to snatch an unsuspecting vessel from hyperspace, where it would find hell awaited.

Behind a nearby comet, grinding aimless through space, lurked a Sabaoth destroyer, full complement of fighters and bombers already deployed. Hasuras na-Gerra stood on the bridge, tinkering with a series of newly fashioned rings as he awaited more prey for his hunt.

Piracy involved more moments of tedium than one might suspect. Moments of waiting in the void.

Gerra held a ring up, inspecting the gemstone setting.

Best to have a hobby.
 

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