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

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique smiled as she fanned her fingers off to the side as Marlon recognized there was a risk. Came with the territory.

It was easy to say, difficult to do, but Dominique didn't feel like surrendering Bonadan to a fate of obscurity because of its recent loss. Far flung as it might be, the Corporate Sector Authority's reach was in fact long indeed. Securing the trade routes only made economic sense. A fact she trusted the Black Sun recognized as well. Why curtail distribution of goods? It could slow it, but the galaxy was vast and the hypergates left plenty of alternative -- if slower -- means of delivery. Even so, convincing people it was in their best interest to let the corporations do what they did best could be challenging. When tempers flared cooler heads did not always prevail in the short term.

"Whatever the Confederation needs, Supreme Commander, I'm certain we can provide." A little stability went a long way. War could benefit certain industries, but peace benefited a wider variety. Besides, someone was always trying to destroy someone else so the weapons and armor manufacturers weren't hurting for customers.

"But what is it you might find of interest? If I might ask. Aside from the needs of the many, which will be met rest assured, is there something Denon might do for you?" Business could become so impersonal if you let it. Dominique hoped they might find something more personal to discuss. Something close to his heart. Not to exploit it, but to fulfill it. They might not be able to sate every desire, but there were countless products and services available. Why, it could be as simple as a walk away from all the talking heads that surrounded them.

Marlon Sularen | Open​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

LINE COMMANDER TERREN SELLFERR
OBJECTIVE III: MONEY LINE
MIN OBSERVER

"Form up on my position!", Sellferr ordered the four CR125A Corvettes under his command as they and his flagship, the MIN Observer, were ripped out of hyperspace by some sort of gravity well. Ever since Fleet Admiral Vorin Zonill had been injured in the line of duty, Sellferr had been picking up some of the slack, to the point where he had been temporarily promoted to the position of Line Commander. Whether or not he would maintain his position once the Admiral recovered remained to be seen, but Sellferr would do everything in his power to ensure that he kept his newfound rank.

Not that he had anything against serving under Zonill, of course. In fact, he had become one of Zonill's closest friends and confidants, and he had been the one to convince the Admiral to retreat in the face of his injuries rather than risk his life by continuing to stay in the fight. Still, Sellferr had his own ambitions, and those didn't include staying at Captain for the rest of his life. He he could get an opportunity to climb the chain of command, he would certainly take it.

Which is why he had been selected to partake in this mission. It was supposed to be simple enough, a standard anti-piracy operation, which is why Sellferr had asked the CR125A Corvettes to accompany his ship. Their rapid fire mass driver cannons would be perfect against any pirate vessels operating in the area, while Sellferr's D-1300 Star Destroyer would be able to outgun anything that might drop in unexpectedli. In all honesty, Sellferr had selected that ship as his command ship because it was one of the newest models developed by the Imperial Remnant and the N&Z Umbrella Corporation, and he wanted to see firsthand just what exactly it was capable of.

A bit overkill, perhaps, for such a mission, but one could never be to careful.

As Sellferr adjusted to the feeling of being forcibly pulled out of hyperspace, he had his ship begin scanning for any signs of enemy combatants or other lifeforms. A cursory scan of the area revealed the presence of gravity well mines. Someone knew they were coming in advance, and had laid out a trap for them.

"All hands to battlestations! Full alert!", Sellferr declared as alarms began ringing throughout the bridge of the Observer. He had already been surprised far to many times in his service career, and he wasn't about to let yet another set of unknown variables ruin his chances of obtaining a more permanent promotion.

No...whatever it was that was out there, Sellferr was going to crush it!

TAGS:
Squesha
Calin Rakel
Kaine Hamilton
Nero Drake
Aurellia
Hasuras Na-Gerra
​

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Spoiler: Summary

1. Sellferr's forces are forcibly pulled from hyperspace.​
2. Sellferr orders all hands to battle stations.​

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• 1 D-1300 Star Destroyer​
  • 4 squadrons of STX-TIEs​
  • 1 squadron of Hyper-Jammers​
• 4 CR125A Corvettes​
  • 4 squadrons of AX-Wings​

​

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: In The Shadows
Direct Tags: Anet Raine
Indirect Tag: Marlon Sularen | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Dominique Vexx | Velzari Tharn | Judah Dashiell | Siv Kryze | Renn Vizsla | Scherezade deWinter | Riven

Tamin gracefully navigated the floor as she moved through the crowd, her heading firmly fixed. Even through the sea of giants compared to her, she noted as Anet Raine dismissed her male companion. He seemingly sulked away a bit almost like a dog that had been swatted for misbehaving.

She had seen it many times in her life, that form of dismissal of the lesser. To all these rich arrogant types of people of lesser standing were just livestock. Bought and sold their only value in their obedience to the master's word and ego. The man was not a slave in name, but he would be forever chained to a master's leash none the less.

It was funny to Tamsin, as she saw Anet spot her and wave her over. There was a time she would feel pity and rage at such a thing, but now she felt nothing for the man that attended Anet. He had the means to free himself but not the will, that made him weak. The leash he was so tugged around by was one he put on himself.

Her thoughts turned away from that as she moved towards the woman beckoning her forth towards the bar. As she made her way towards the historian she took another sip of her wine. "I must say Lady Raine…." She looked out at the crowd of people for a moment before turning back to Anet. "You fit in well here." It was a compliment, but it had a slight bit of jade in its tone not towards Anet but towards the whole of upper-class society.

"Though from what my sister has told me, I wouldn't think you would find much intellectual stimulating conversation among these people. So, did you know the deceased?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Jorryn Fordyce | [OPEN]
Location: Dobwaren Estate, Bonadan

____________________________________________________

It was her first time on Bonadan.

She would have been considered late by most standards, but true to form, the Dread Queen only ever arrived at anything in the moment she meant to. The pale woman found the air too warm, too perfumed, too heavy…But duty, always and forever, called like the most insistent siren. The Dobwaren Estate was glittered with corporate excess upon approach, but she had long since grown used to opulence existing in her orbit. It made her long to return home.

Aureate orbs of molten gold swept across statues of men who mistook profit for purpose while chandeliers refracted light overhead. It was like a thousand hungry eyes, winking in rapid succession. Even death seemed to have been bought, polished, and put on display. It made her begin to rethink her will…Perhaps, cremation was best. She moved through the crowd rather seamlessly with a silvery hood drawn low. Her gown was plain by comparison to most—Just plain, dark silk. Fine enough…

But it was all basic, unadorned, and not the mantle of anyone considered nobility.

It was with a distinct lack of fondness that she imagined the Sepulchral trying to ring her neck for presenting herself in such a way. Did she not like the things they picked for her? Was she just dead set on rebelling against the etiquette that an Empress ought to display? Too often, in the past, they had raged quietly because of her brazen disobedience…But things had changed. Without Darth Empyrean to pin their hopes and dreams of galactic domination on? They had no choice.

This was the kind of anonymity that she preferred. To be unseen was to observe. To be unseen was to be able to learn the truth of things without pretense. Her reflection lingered for a moment in a mirrored column, holding on with a delay, disappearing only after she was gone.

She had not come for Necal Dobwaren.

His name meant nothing to her, but power was often akin to a river. The diminutive woman had learned to watch where it pooled rather than to focus on where it came from. The board would likely squawk and scramble over inheritance. It was to be expected…But Srina? Srina, was there to listen.

A servant passed with a tray and offered her a beverage. She took something at random, something she did not want and wouldn't drink. It was merely a measure required to keep blending in as one of the many people mourning the passing of an old man. The champagne bubbled away merrily, but the smell was all too familiar to what existed on Jutrand. It had the aroma of flowers that were bred without soil…Synthetic. Like everything else.

She drifted through the sea of bodies and eventually passed through the tall doors that led to the garden terrace. The air was cooler there, even though it was still touched with Bonadan's vaguely chemical wind. Srina set the untouched glass on the balustrade and let her gaze fall to the lights below…There were so many voices, loud and soft, boisterous, and somber.

So much noise…But not a single thing was worth listening to. Nothing worth hearing.

Still.

Something drew her from her people, which was rarely a coincidence. It wouldn't be the first time she'd followed the Force, and it wouldn't be the last. The Darkside whispered to her in ways most would never be able to comprehend. This was just one more whisper, one more secret, one more path to follow. She would know what she was looking for the moment she found it…But until then?

She would wait.

 

[Arris Windrun]

OBJECTIVE ONE "IMPLIED ODDS"
Direct tags: Jared Starchaser | Bob Taric

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

<"Bob?"> It took her a second to recall the reporter's name. <"Oh, right! Just come inside the main entrance. Tell 'em I sent for ya.">

The acolyte dragged the Mystic off to another part of the room, while the cyborg paced anxiously for confirmation that this was all some kind of trap. Of course, the sound of distant fighting did little to convince her that things were juuuust fine.

“Maybe not the best move you could have made.” He called from his spot in the shadows, a ways above, on a ledge.

His voice cut across the commotion of Sith and Mystics, and rang familiar to her ears. Arris looked up with a grin. She already had an idea who it was, even before her brain had fully processed it.

As soon as all the pieces clicked, she exclaimed. "Beach boy! It's you!"

The cyborg's energy was night and day compared to then. On Kattada, shit was serious. She had just betrayed Tilon Quill , killed her first Jedi, and experienced early tastes of Sith life. Hell, it wasn't like she even knew what any of that really meant back then... Violent and ignorant, but since the Conclave? Things had changed, and today on Voss, she was in her element - no matter how much she seemed ready to unspool.

She switched back to her comlink. <"Hey, Bob? Find me if you want, but I've got a Jedi to deal with.">

Then a thought had occurred; the Talusian recalled a detail about that fancy right eye of hers. With a twitch of synthetic cheek muscle, she activated its holocamera and fed the feed directly to Bob. First time she's ever live-streamed a fight.

Arris drew an Ambassador and waited for the half-Mirialan to make a move.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VOSS​

The mace shattered her vibroblade like heavy stone on glass. Varin followed through with a swipe towards her. Pieces of her blade like razors flew towards him. Some making contact into his arms and his chest, before his saber connected with her blade. Pain ruptured through his body as blood flowed to the floor, hissing as it melted through the tiles. Slowly his wounds began to bind, pushing heated bits of metal out of his flesh to the floor. The mace made a loud crash into the wall behind them creating a massive crater that shook the hallway.

Her words echoed in his ears, but his eyes shadowed over. Almost like he was no longer there. The pain spread throughout his body, and he drank it like wine. Embracing it. Using it. A tool that carved a path into his psyche. His eyes flared like fire as a yell erupted from his throat, flames jetted out of his back almost like wings. The room began to elevate to higher temperatures.

His eyes met hers and what she would only see is an animal. A beast starving for battle. Lusting for blood. Craving the struggle of pain and laceration.

Slowly he placed his hand on his saber blade, sparks erupted as he began to push down on his blade in an attempt to force her on her knees. This was something entirely different than what he had displayed moments prior. Where before he was trying to be more calculating, this was pure instinct and aggression.

A moment after the push he swung his saber to the side to deflect her blade, swinging violently with his fist towards her jaw. The mace in the other wall began to resonate with his fury, as if being called to him it swung back towards Varin with the same velocity that he used to throw it before.

Reina Daival​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: IMPLIED ODDS
TOWER OF PROPHECY

This was exactly the reason why Ronhar hated the Sith.

They never gave you a straight answer, no matter how many times you might ask them for one, and they always seemed to hide their true intentions or feelings behind some misguided sense of pride of bravado. That was what this so called Vestra Tane was doing at the moment, strutting her way toward Ronhar without an apparent care in the world. Of course, as she did this, there were two things that caught Ronhar's attention.

Firstly was the fact that her last name was apparently "Tane" as well, though Ronhar chalked this up more to coincidence than anything else. After all, to the best of his knowledge, he didn't have any siblings or relatives that he didn't know about, and he sure as hell wouldn't marry one of these Sith even if given the chance to do so. Plus, with as large as the galaxy was, it was more than likely that Ronhar would eventually encounter someone with the same last name as him, someone with whom Ronhar had no previous relationship with.

Still...what if? What if their meeting was some strange "will of the force", or whatever it was that those Sith and Jedi so desperately clung to? For a moment, Ronhar wasn't exactly what to do about their chance meeting. Then, he noticed that second thing, the fact that the Sith was now resting her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber pommel. Ronhar was sure that the Sith was going to attack him and his men regardless of what he said or did, so he might as well at least take the initiative.

Ronhar slowly removed his left hand from the bottom of his Acid Rifle, though his right hand remained holding the weapon's grip assembly and trigger. He then slowly began to bring his hands up, almost as if he were surrendering or at least indicating that he wanted to talk.

Almost.

Because as soon as his left hand brushed over the device that was hanging on his blast vest, he activated it. It screamed to life, emitting neurosonic and EM pulses that Ronhar hoped would disrupt the Sith's ability to use the force. Ronhar than leveled his Acid Rifle back toward his opponent, firing a stream of acid as he slowly began backing up toward where he and his men had originally entered the hallway.

"Fall back! Prioritize the mystics, I'll fend her off!", Ronhar yelled as he continued to blast the Sith Lord with multiple streams of acid. His men immediately complied, with the back half of the column behind him turning around to run back to the entrance and the other half walking backwards while facing Ronhar and Vestra Tane , ready to open fire should she try to get past Ronhar or kill him.

Naturally, it wasn't as if Ronhar was completely defenseless or anything, even against a force user. His equipment and weapons had been specially tailored to fight someone like Vestra Tane , and Ronhar himself was a well trained, highly skilled, cybernetic commando. If anyone had a decent chance against this Sith Lord, it would be Ronhar.

Of course, the question that remained hung heavily in the air, stagnant above everyone's head: would it be enough to stop the Sith, or was Ronhar doomed from the moment he had walked through that door?

TAGS:
Vestra Tane

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Patience //
// Focus // // Srina Talon //
// Attire //

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The affairs of suit and tie held little appeal for the Echani these days, continuing to waive off money grubbing crops that sought to pull ears their way in defending a claim to Dobwaren's estate. The funeral veil had done little to dissuade those from encroaching on her personal space, and seemed to weaken her ability to stare them down until they fled.

The scent of perfume and cologne penetrated the air violently, easy smiles falling across the faces of all gathered. Far too joyous an event to be considered a funeral, more like roaches scurrying from the feast.

She found her stomach churning at the imagery and decided this event would be best enjoyed from a distance, though didn't escape the chance to grab some refreshments before her retreat.

As she decided the night was to end early, something more appealing pulled at the corner of her senses. It was akin to catching the scent of something delicious, though it pulled at senses unfamiliar to her. A connection with the force that she did not hold in a previous life.

Dark energy coalesced against her skin, raising the hairs along it. Her amber eyes fell backwards, looking for what called her. The bright lights and swarming of bodies made it difficult to catch, but a soft pull of her chin guide her towards a silvered hood absconding through tall doors.

It wasn't clear who it had been, the covering pulled low enough to hide away any distinct features. But the air that coalesced around the woman felt... familiar, though the former Lord Inquisitor couldn't put a finger on it. She was still new to this sensation and differentiating signatures proved troublesome.

For now, all she knew was that the energy around the hooded figure called to her, and that she must answer.

Weaving through the crowd like a suture through flesh, the Echani followed in the steps of her bounty. The path took her to the tall marbled door blocking the way to the gardens before parting them with a lithe hand. The world was calmer out here, though everything remained manufactured. Even the plants that decorated the platform had been trimmed and pruned to display control and wealth.

A shame, considering their beauty was in the growth they showed in the wild. A hand brushed a flower, feeling the way it choked on Bonadan's air and it's attempt to grow towards a blotted sky.

Tragic...

A small pity formed in her chest, but she wouldn't allow it to distract her.

Amber eyes softly turned away to instead fall upon the pale figure sat upon the edge of the gardens, her hood softly billowing in Bonadan's chemical winds. Jorryn drew ever closer, searching memories for where she had sensed this feeling before and, as she turned to lean herself against the railing of the garden, a spark of memory would flicker in her mind.

"Good evening, Mother."

The Echani had the decorum not to remove the anonymity the Empress of the Sith carried today, and the title presented held double meaning. Srina acted as the mother of all Sith, after all, and the similar appearance of their people would allow the conversation to carry on without suspicion.

"What has brought you to this sad corner of the Galaxy? I would have presumed such events beneath your notice."

There was still much Jorryn didn't understand about the Empress, but after the display on Alvaria, she craved to sate her curiosities about the woman more than ever. To sup upon the wealth of knowledge that the other Echani held.

It was clear in the glimmer of the former Lord Inquisitor's amber eyes that she intended to drink deep.

 

[Kito]

//: Mercy //: Lysander von Ascania //:
//: Heist //:
//: Sword in Bio //:

From the shadows, a figure hid within the Force. She was hidden from sight and presence, but she was aware. The hulking brute of a woman spoke, teasing the other as he seemed occupied. Before the young Jedi could do anything, warn or interject, one of the guards found their neck twisted in a way that only meant death.

The woman was strong; Kito could feel the Force bleed off of her, its dark cloud utterly familiar. She could taste its malleable terror; this woman wanted to be feared and worshiped for power. Her jaw tightened; the presence and the desires weren't new by Sith standards, but Kito hated them.

She moved to intervene this time, as the second guard had noticed the woman. Flickering into existence, the Jedi drew the blessed blade, and flames ignited the darkened hallway. She was alone; there were no other Jedi in the area, and no one to fight at her side. It was normal, Kito was used to this, but she was unsure of the strength of the second that joined the mountain woman.

It didn't matter.

A hand clutched at the thin necklace around her neck, her thumb glided along the curve to the tip. Its sharpness ground her, bringing Kito's focus forward. She wasn't really alone, not anymore. Even if physically, she was.

"Let him go," her voice commanded the Sith. Her eyes flickered to the guard as she nodded her head, trying to tell him to take the moment of her appearance as a chance to get away.

"I thought the Sith wanted to prove their power? Why pick on the weak?" Kito mocked the woman, realizing who she was. The face of the Kaggath champion stared back at her. She had seen the brutality of her fight. Kito had once looked up to Kyric — but it seemed after the battle with this woman, the swordsman cowardly ran away.

A disappointment, but Kito didn't hold it against him. She just learned to put her faith somewhere else.

Fire spat from her lips as she exhaled deeply, letting the natural abilities of her long-gone people churn in her belly. She felt it, the warmth spreading from her core mixing with the will of the Force.

The odachi burned brightly as she drew it upward, her hands in a split grip as she waited.

"Fight someone who can actually fight back, coward." Probably not the best thing to say, but Kito wanted to draw the ire of the fire-headed woman. Her eyes only looked towards the man for a moment, wondering where he would fall into this.

Kito was prepared for an uneven fight, one she believed, at her core, she could win.

She had to win, she had to survive.