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

[Riven]

Tags - Quinn Varanin (Direct Link) Mauve du Vain
Equipment - Horizon Killer, PNCR, 3x Achlys Grenades, 3x Shiva Knives, LO-22S pistol, vibroknife.
Objective 2
Current Allegiance: The Imperial Confederation

Riven gave a glance towards her droid companion, "Start recording and transmitting..." spoke her soft words as Pincer let out a higher pitched whirr in response as it set up a link to Quinn Varanin herself. The Princess would get a live feed through the droid's main optical scanner as it looked over the guests of the funeral. The Echani may be late but she'd see what all the buzz was about.

Once the recording had begun Riven set down her own sights again, "Riven, Bonadan, Dobwaren Estate, 902ABY." she stated clearly for the recording as she observed the crowd. "Pincer, start looking for high value targets..." she ordered her droid as another beep, boop, and whirr was given in response. Quinn would see as its optic began to zoom and focus on various individuals within the crowd, snapping between each as it remotely searched for bounties and public records, one day Riven would need to try and update that system to let it search into not-so public records...

A low whining beep was given as Riven's droid companion found a notable target and gave direction to the Eldorai. She adjusted her scope, scanning through the crowd until her sights settled on the imposing figure of Marlon Sularen in his all black uniform shaking hands with the ever alluring Dominique Vexx who was bound in tight dark leather. "The Grand Admiral himself... Marlon Sularen." commented Riven for the recording. Her scope was trained upon him as she watched silently for a moment, she didn't doubt a Grand Admiral would get her a good amount of credits from someone, but she was meant to be on Voss taking on a bounty for the Confederation right now; but a different offer had been put on her table before she could make it. But as perhaps a sign of good faith and apology she'd at the very least make sure to keep an eye on the Grand Admiral and make sure nobody else was feeling like taking a head today, it was the least she could do. "Pincer, keep track of the Grand Admiral's position, let me know if anyone tries something..." she ordered.

"The one next to him...?" worded Riven as the scope shifted towards Vexx. "Senator Vexx...?" she hummed gently. It wasn't a name she recognized outside of the public information being filtered to her by her companion droid. A boop and a whirr came from Pincer as Riven's scope shifted for just a moment in distraction, "... I know she's tall, I can tell from here..." muttered the short Eldorai in annoyance before her scope was steadied once again. She wasn't sure what the going rate for senators was these days, but they were always messy targets to take down, lots of... complications usually. She was certain the Senator and Grand Admiral were having a very interesting conversation but Riven had yet to install a way for Pincer to be able to listen in at the great distances she was usually perched up in; something else she'd have to fix at a later time...

The optical scanner of Pincer started to move through the crowd once more as it searched for more targets, and then it found one that Riven certainly didn't need to pull up any information on; Jorryn Fordyce . There was something of a tired sigh from Riven heard over the recording before she turned her scope to the Echani. "What's she doing here...?" she muttered as that scope pinpointed directly towards her head; but that finger remained off the trigger. She knew of Jorryn through their mutual acquaintance of Quinn. Her scope followed the Echani who seemed to move through the crowd with intent, leading her to the gardens.

Her trailing scope led her to a figure hooded in white and it seemed Jorryn had some notion of who she was; or she was just as curious as she now found herself. "Who's she talking to...?" muttered the short Eldorai as Pincer's optical camera focused on Srina Talon , Riven was entirely unaware of who she was, but perhaps the viewer on the other end of the feed would recognize such garb.

It was times like these however that Riven was thankful of her Force Dead nature. She knew her position would be kept hidden so long as nobody in the crowd knew what to look for; a void in the Force, a complete absence of it nestled far away. In that same breadth she knew that if she actually decided to take a shot none would be able to anticipate it until it was far too late, though she'd absolutely have to make a quick exit afterwards. It was thankful then that the assassin had no intent to pull any triggers today, at least not yet. Who knows how much the life of an Empress went for these days?

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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

​

It took a while for Sularen to provide a response to Vexx's inquiry. It was a personal question, which had caught him a bit by surprise although it left him unsure of what answer to give. The Supreme Commander had dedicated much of his life towards the pursuit of his Imperial ambitions and outside that, there was little that he sought or desired. Then again she did ask what Denon could do for him specifically so technically he could use that as a means to gain some form of support from Denon in accomplishing his goals.

After spending what he felt was a bit way too much time to collect his thoughts and formulate a response, Sularen proceeded to speak up offering Vexx a response. "I've dedicated much of my life to the Imperial cause. To building a lasting Empire that can reshape the balance of power in the galaxy away from the hands of the Sith and Jedi, an Empire that will last longer and leave a greater impact then the Galactic Alliance ever did." he continued. "If there is something that Denon can do for me, then it would be to help me achieve that goal." he added.

"Then again given Denon's position within the High Republic, and the High Republic's hostility towards Imperial Regime's I'd assume that would be a near impossible thing to ask from your people, given the conflict of interest." he further explained. It was rare for Sularen to get personal and even then when he got personal it still had something to do with his work. Nevertheless, the Supreme Commander patiently awaited the response from the Senator of Denon, interested in knowing how she might respond to his answer.

[Direct Tag] | Dominique Vexx
Tags [Nearby] | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Siv Kryze | Velzari Tharn | Srina Talon | Jorryn Fordyce | Anet Raine | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla | Tamsin Starfall | OPEN ​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He caught the mace on its return, now wielding both of his weapons. He watched her slide past him and then sheath her weapon. Varin’s head slightly tilted.

Was she surrendering? No, that would be way too simple. She fights too fiercely for surrender to even be a final option.

Something Varin respected. Anyone willing to die for their cause was worth remembering in his mind. He moved to rush towards her before he heard the heavy metallic door rip from its hinges, before he could react the door slammed into him and into the wall. The momentum was enough to jam him between the wall and the door itself.

No…

He tried to move his hands that were pinned within the tight space, the only movement he could manage was his head. With a few hard headbutts the door began to dent, but it wouldn’t budge.

NO…I can’t fail this..

He growled as he again tried to move his hands, again they did not budge. The anger began to build, a near desperation began to reach him.

Have to get out! I can’t be trapped!

The words of Gerwald Lechner met his ears again, echoing through his mind.

Purpose…Control..Ownership…

His breathing began to calm.

...You lost it…

Varin gritted his teeth.

No…

He could hear the footsteps of the Voss escaping.

It IS you…

A deep guttural growl left Varin’s throat before he finally spoke.

“So it is…”

The door around him began to glow orange as the heat began to build once more.

“I cannot fail!”

Lightning surged around his body as the door began to fall like a half melted puddle around him. Slowly he stepped out as the inferno from his back formed wings, smoke spewing from his scars. His palm began to build with flame as he shot a ball of infernal energy towards Reina’s feet, a small explosion leapt towards her as he threw his saber towards the Voss. Almost in tandem he charged towards Reina again. The room filling with rage, but calculated. He would move in for the kill but only Varin would permit it if he deemed himself ready for it.

Reina Daival​

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Varin Mortifer
Location: Voss

What in the Spirit's name did they feed these things? She was already on the move at least, even before Varin had turned into some kind of fiery creature. This was totally unfair, why did fire get to just be summoned out of nothing? She couldn't do that with water! She at the very least could starve it of oxygen. She could try to starve the entire room of oxygen, but she wasn't entirely sure how well that would go for any of them. No, instead she had to push forward. Different plans. Different strategies. He was focused on her, yet somehow also seemed to be able to focus on the Voss...

Her left hand flicked up as soon as the Lightsaber was thrown. Not to grab it for herself, but instead a sudden bolt of what seemed to be Lightning erupted from her fingertips towards the Lightsaber, surging through the electronics of the device as ionic energy rushed through it. No matter how hard a crystal might have fought to produce its energy, without the rest of the electronics in a Lightsaber, a crystal might as well be a fancy paperweight. Mechu-Macture was coming in more handy than she had expected.

Of course, Reina wouldn't be able to intercept Varin's charge. She had to choose one or the other, and well...She was able to deal with pain a lot more easily than she expected the Voss to be able to. She wouldn't have the time to unsheathe Whisperwind once again, even if it was an Iaido strike, but she had one other thing up her sleeve, wiping her head around to face Varin, and letting out a Sonic Scream. Not one fuelled by that of the Force, but one that was on the same level of a Sonic weapon.

Almost immediately pain shot throughout her entire throat, as she went through the backlash and strain of using the attack. It would mean she wouldn't be able to talk for a while...but fortunately enough for her, she doubt she'd need to talk anytime soon. All she had to do was last out long enough for the Voss to escape.

​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto barely had time to hear the mystics' whispered gratitude before the heavy impact of boots struck the cobblestone behind him. The sound was deliberateconfident, methodical. Not the tread of a frightened mystic or a fleeing civilian, but of a hunter.

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, weary sigh rolling from his throat. Perhaps this could still end without bloodshed. Another mercenary, perhaps someone driven by contract, not conviction. If reason could find its way through the smoke, maybe there was a chance to talk this man down. Then came the sound that ended all talk. the all to familiar Snap–hiss of a saber.

The air came alive with the hum of a lightsaber, crimson light bleeding through the haze. Its reflection danced across Laphisto's armor, outlining the faint curve of his horns and the ridges of his draconic wings. The familiar scent of ozone pricked at his senses, mingled with the taste of iron in the air. He frowned beneath his helm. "of course" he murmured.

He pivoted sharply, dropping to one knee even as his rifle came up in the same motion. The moment his knee struck stone, the weapon erupted to life.

The rifle barked once, twice, then again and again. A controlled rhythm of violence, each pull of the trigger precise and deliberate. The sharp thunderclaps of gunfire echoed through the narrow street, the concussive recoil rattling the air. Laphisto's rifle spat a volley of solid 30-06 slugs LO-KI/22 rounds, armor-piercing, heavy-grain each one tearing through the smoke toward the red glow that had challenged him.

He didn't stop after the first shot. His mind remained cold, his breathing steady as he fired. Each round was guided by instinct and calculation alike, the Force humming faintly in the space between motion and intent. This wasn't rage this was duty. Protection. Survival.

The dragon's wings spread halfway, angling forward as a living barrier to shield the mystics from debris. Stone chips and dust burst outward as the slugs tore into the cobblestones, the street trembling with the rhythm of fire.

Kryos

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VOSS​

Varin’s saber disengaged its blade with a dark hiss as it hurled towards the Voss. The momentum slowing down allowing it to lower its trajectory, Varin would not kill the Voss just yet. He still needed answers, instead he would wound him, make his escape all that much more difficult.

The emitter to the handle also doubled as a small blade itself in case he needed it for tight quarters, as the trajectory changed the blade flew straight for the ankle of the Voss, severing the tendon that allowed for walking on that one limb.

He let out a scream and a smile crept on Varin’s face as the confirmation of the Voss losing traction sang to him. Then a second scream hit him, one that erupted with a sonic force towards him. The force of the scream was enough to stop his momentum, the sound itself enough to disorientate as he let out a yell dropping his mace to the floor to clasp his hands over his ears.

“What did you-!”

He managed to struggle out before a yell ripped through his throat as his body began to take its toll. He had begun to overheat, overexerting himself.

The Voss began to crawl away as Varin reached for his mace once more struggling to find his footing.

“I can’t…fail.”

The thought hit him.

Why was he here? No one gave him orders that he could remember. Even if it were the case he would be backing at least one other person. It’s rare he did a mission without it being based on orders.

How did he arrive here? Again he would have arrived with the crew he was meant to work with.

What is happening Ignati…answer me!

Ignati let out a growl in Varin's mind.

It doesn’t matter now boy. Cling to your survival now.

Reina Daival​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

PROPHET MOTIVE​

Location — Voss-Ka, Voss
Objective — Objective one: Implied Odds
Tags — Drego Ruus // Darth Strosius Naamino Zuukamano Lysander von Ascania
Paraphernalia — Battle Armour, Lightsabers

Ash and smoke filled the skies, followed by a crushing cold from the victims of the assault--if one could call the Sith's scions that. . . The paired transport-ships crashed into the earth not far from the altercation between the Padawan and her foes. Whilst a tremor ran over her body as Isobel instinctively took a step back from the pair, her visor continuing to look upon them. They seemed strong. Much stronger than she was in the Force, or was it only their hate, their bitterness which burned so brightly? Either way, the mark on the Force their presence, and that of many of their kind, left behind was enough to make her feel a little more out of place... and a little more alert than before. For this was no mere spar with a fellow apprentice, this may yet mean life or death.

As the elder commanded the masked 'acolyte' to prepare, she reciprocated the move. The Force gently lifted her dual sabers from her belt and interlocked them into a longer, double-bladed hilt, before it rested gently in her gloved hand. The Nabooan made no move to ignite it yet, a Jedi would not strike first, would not provoke an encounter unless it was necessary. Mayhap she could still persuade them to stand down, make them see reason instead of battle for a duo of Voss mystics. "We are both foreigners on this soil, let us not act as if we hold any higher claim to the Mystics' guidance." She stated, her voice lightly distorted through her helmet, before another presence found its way into the systems. A message, now, after only one soul had contacted her during her studies here.

Lysander.

The message was ambiguous... strange even, a warning veiled as an invitation for a future meeting. Though she had felt brave before, facing these Sith, a wave of doubt threatened to drown her as her eyes flicked over the transmission. Her thumb remained on the activation stub of her lightsaber, a light trembling pushing it back and forth a bit... but she refused to press it just yet, even while the other blades ignited on a whim. After a bit of back and forth, she moved the hand to her vambrace and pressed the button, the holocomm turning on--alongside her lightsaber. The loud hum of the dragite gems would hopefully not interfere with the audio. "If you don't write again?" A pause followed, alongside a nervous yet breathy chuckle: "Lys. . . What are you even saying? I've heard strange things about you, and- and now you say this-..."

Her words were interrupted by a strange current in the Force targeting her--A dark and chilling power coming from the acolyte's hands. Though she had little to no time to respond, Isobel forced her hands together, pressing them against the hilt of her lightsaber as she tried to form a shield around her being. In its haste, the protection was enough to stop a portion of the damage, but could not stop the blow afterwards, sending the young Padawan tumbling back. A grunt escaped her lips as she collided with the soil, and her lightsaber turned off as it fell beside her. But her holocom was still recording... Only when she scrambled back up did she press the button to stop and send the recording, it was not her priority now. Not anymore.

With careful guidance of the Force, she drew her lightsaber to her hand again and ignited the pink blades--Their loud hum joining the the others. She spun the lightsaber around for a moment, before holding it angled beside her, ready to attack or defend against her foe. Her dark eyes darting between the split figure of the acolyte, was she seeing double or... no, this was the work of the Force. "If you were Fate, you would not defer to a coward's tool--" She defended, before raising her weapon to defend against the incoming enemy.

​

 

[Nero Drake]

Ranna Sejast Hasuras Na-Gerra Kaine Hamilton Ronhar Tane Van Trask Seela Leini

"Break! Break! Break!"

Drake narrowly avoided a volley of tailgun fire. Not all of his wingmates were so lucky. He watched one of the Black Sun pirates, wing burning, corkscrew into a passing asteroid. It took all of his instincts to avoid a similar fate as his starfighter juked and weaved until proximity klaxons stopped wailing.

"Blast that sleemo you stoopas!" he growled into his comlink.

Maybe if the pirates fought together they would have a better chance against the Kom'rk but there was no method to the chaotic way each of them strafed the asteroid field with laser cannons. Gerra only paid bonus credits to the one that claimed the kill. Nero pulled up from his own attack run just in time to glance over at more blinking alarms.

"Imperial patrol fleet on my scope," Nero thought he could see a star destroyer shaped gap in the stars, "Looks like Gerra reeled in a big catch."

He didn't recognize the rival Sith faction that opened fire on a squadron of Imperial TIEs off in the distance but knew the confusion would buy Black Sun more precious time to escape with their stolen beskar. Lurking somewhere behind the mining station Gerra must be still deciding whether to cut his losses or attack.

 

[Pal Veda]

IMPLIED ODDS
Location: Voss-Ka - Tower of Prophecy
Objective: Does it even matter? Get paid, have fun, don’t die.
Tags: Open


35,000 credits. Was this even worth it? He should have doubled the price for all this trouble. Hell, maybe Black Sun would have paid double if he’d just asked. Too late for that.

Pal cursed at the dead merc laying on the ground as he regained his composure and cleared his head enough to continue the mission. He wasn’t even in the Tower yet, and already he’d had to dispatch three Black Sun goons — and he had the bruises to prove it. But he was finally at his destination. It looked clear enough. Pal moved quickly to the entryway of the inner sanctum and peered inside.

A couple more thugs accompanied by a female had their backs turned, heading away from him toward another section of the Tower. Pal wasn’t looking for a three-on-one fight, so he waited on them to disappear before entering. Once inside, he immediately cut right and headed up the stairwell toward the second floor. He was a bit concerned about the sound of his boots against the stone steps, but this was mostly drown out by the chaos outside. Random explosions, yelling, blaster fire. He could have stood at the window yelling, “I’m the king of the world!” and no one would have noticed.

On the second floor, Pal walked swiftly down the hallway, barrel of his blaster pointed ahead as he progressed. Many of the doors were wide open, rooms cleared out, but he caught a few muffled voices as he passed by one in particular.

“I said shut up!” There was a strong accent here, maybe a drunken Weequay.

“It will only get worse for you, pirate.” The responses was surprisingly calm all things considered. “You should let me go now or your death will come sooner than you would like.”

“Yer death is gonna come sooner’an you’d like, priest!”

Well, that dialogue was about all Pal needed to understand what was going on in there. He halted outside the doorway, pressed his back against the wall, and peaked over his shoulder to see inside. Confirmed. A Weequay henchman with Black Sun insignia on his armor pointing a pistol at a conceited space dork in a navy blue robe. Maybe the Voss mystics deserved a little comeuppance. They were a snooty bunch. Then again, if you can see the future — that Pal Veda, certified action hero, was about to save your skin — wouldn’t you be a little overconfident, too?

The pirate had his rear to Pal, allowing him to slip into the room unseen. Despite the lesson he’d thought he’d learned earlier — just kriffin’ shoot the enemy — Pal did not want to risk hitting one of the men he was here to rescue. Instead, he crept inside, each step careful and quiet. Finally, now within touching distance, he raised his weapon and pounded the butt of his blaster into the back of the bad guy’s head. The merc dropped like a bag of bricks.

“Hello,” the hostage greeted him, no surprise evident in his voice. “I suppose you’re part of the rescue mission?”

Pal smirked, almost laughing. “You mean you don’t already know? I thought you wizards could see the future?” Based on the look on the mystic’s face, he was not amused. “Let’s get you out of here. Got any friends that need help on our way out?”

“They took Toman up to level three to keep us separated. We should not leave without him.”

“Well let’s go find Toman. Grab that pirate’s blaster and follow me.”

 

[Drystan Creed]

VOSS-KA

"Guard duty is so boring." Drystan yawned, leaning against the wall of a room. Hostages huddled in the center while Sith troopers ringed the edges, flanking the only entrance.

He stared up at the ceiling, then stretched his right arm out, palm open.

"Trooper, ball me." Without hesitation a nondescript aluminum can flew into his hand; his fingers closed on impact to catch it.

"Alright, I leave the rest to you. I'm gonna take a walk." He pressed the tab, the amber liquid hissing free.

---

The Imperial beacon 312 tracked continued to hum and ping—still active for anyone who wished to find the location. But on arrival, the site told a different story.

The temporary encampment lay in ruins. Defensive fixtures obliterated; turrets and droids crushed or shredded. Makeshift bases and bunkers had been ripped from their foundations or flattened entirely. And their former inhabitants lay scattered.

A platoon of Imperial troops was defeated—dead or unconscious; none left to tell the tale. Without warning, a bent, empty beer can launched towards 312's helmet. Harmless but it was not meant to harm, only to grab attention.

"If you came looking to party, you're way too late." Drystan sat atop the stump of a freshly felled tree, his sheathed sword resting on his shoulder and a cigarette clamped between his teeth. He didn't seem to notice that 312 was disguised as an Imperial soldier.

"They were a good warm-up. Fortunately I'm a nice guy. You can walk away and I won't chase you. Or you can join the rest of your comrades in the dirt. I'm more than happy to put you down there if you so choose."

CT-312

 

[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

"Miss Raine, then." Tamsin said with a slight head nod and smile as she moved to take a seat. She gently set her glass on the table in front of her, as she mused in her head about the thought of titles. Tamsin herself had none at least not anymore, she used to hold the title of Marshal of Echnos but that now seemed like a distant memory.

So much had changed so quickly for her in not that long of a time. It seemed like yesterday she was just a slave on Tatooine. Now here she was more times than she could count in a room filled with slave master and Slave traders.

"Business?" She pondered a bit but didn't push the subject.

"You could say I am here for the same." Though admittedly hers was not in the name of credits but information gathering. As Anet commented on how dissimilar her and Kaila were, Tamsin followed the historians' eyes. Seeing the cephalopodial alien in the corner of the room. Tamsin wasn't acquainted with the species floating in there little orbs but it reminded her a bit of the B'omarr monks she occasionally saw on Tatooine. Mainly the head in a jar aspect.

"We adopted each other, after she saved me." As far as Tamsin knew they were not biologically related. "Though we do have a few things in common." As much as Tamsin wanted to gush and tell someone all things her and her sister shared, she held back. Kaila liked her secrets, and was sometimes to Tamsin's dismay overly protective of what they shared in common.

It made her wonder if Kaila had ever shown or told Anet about her ghosts. She knew that Vestra Tane had seen one of them. "I know I don't look like a giantess blonde warrior, but a version of me gave my sister one hell of a fight." Tamsin chose to leave that hanging as she looked over her shoulder back at the alien in the corner.

"Who is the squid in the bowl?"

 

[Glissara]

Location: Voss-Ka - Voss
Objective:

• Pursue and eliminate a group of fleeing Voss mystics.

Tag: Tibera Jessen Joseph Torson

​

Glissara had taken a circular trajectory, arcing around and past the convoy to position herself ahead of its path prior to setting her ambush. Two of her semiautonomous seeker thermal explosives were set at strategic, concealed points along the convoy’s route. These were tiny, spherical drones with a baradium payload and the ability to independently seek out their targets. If all went according to plan, she anticipated that they would work just well enough to facilitate the completion of her objective.

Although Glissara’s initial plan had been to target the convoy directly, the presence of the gunship had brought unforeseen complications.

Nevertheless, Glissara triggered her ambush as soon as the convoy passed her by. The camouflaged semiautonomous seeker thermal explosives gave a high-pitched whine as they zipped out from the vegetation along the side of the road at velocities rivaling that of a speeder bike at full pin. Streaking high into the air, they closed the distance to the gunship in a heartbeat, before going off just as they came within inches of their mark. One of the explosives detonated near the engines, while the other went off just under the passenger bay. Both carried fusion-based payloads that blossomed into twin suns, producing detonations that were capable of atomizing their target and potentially inflicting severe, if possibly fatal damage to the gunship and its occupants.

At nearly the same time, an infrared smoke grenade went off in the convoy’s midst, potentially concealing the approach of the semiautonomous explosives and obscuring the senses of the convoy’s mercenary defenders.

All the while, Glissara, melded into the terrain via her bodysuit’s adaptive camouflage system, started her approach!

Spoiler: Loadout

• Slipstream Zero Exoskin Mk. I
  
  • Arms
    
    • Modular Attachment Point - L
      
      • FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Face Mask
• Glissara’s Enforcer
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Phase I “Susurration” Anti-Sonic Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (20)
• Void Helix-type Aerial Vibrostar (16)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Miniaturized Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Oort Cloud, Unspecified Star System - Perlemian Trade Route
Thread Objective: 3
Mission Objective:

• Intercept beskar smuggling convoy that is en route to Imperial space.
• Disable the beskar freighters for capture by the Kainate.

Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Tag: Van Trask
Call Sign: Fragile Dancer

Seela took the head-on, and as she did, her enhanced mind processed actions at once.

Her eyes widened in focus as the targeting lock alarm chirped in her awareness. Immediately, her will flowed into the craft. The Runesliver Harmonics Array came first, vomiting a stream of corrupted data intended to degrade the enemy’s sensors. The Nazrûl Disruption Core activated as well, smearing her starfighter’s silhouette into a dark phantom meant to trick the enemy’s eyes.

The TIE’s cannon spewed its deadly cloud. Tattooed eyebrows rose as the alert vibrated in a more desperate tone against her ear cones. Seela gave a sharp breath as the hypernervous implant overcharged her perception, allowing her to perceive the incoming fire with sudden, slow motion clarity. She stood the Xarûl on its wing, the maneuvering jets firing violently in the process. The action allowed her to dodge the initial portion of the volley by mere inches, baradium detonations lighting up the void as the burst wasted itself on her electronic phantoms.

Her actions were nearly enough.

Unfortunately, the volley’s wide spread and volume of fire caught her flatfooted. Seela tugged on the yoke as a handful of razor-sharp shards punched through the phantoms. A sharp, earsplitting crumping noise filled her awareness as the two flechettes found their mark. One detonated against the port-side plating, the alchemized armor holding but scoring a deep, smoldering furrow that bled vapor and crimson energy. The second was more devastating, striking just aft of the cockpit. Although the explosion was not a direct hull breach, it shattered a cluster of the maneuvering jets on her starboard side.

Warning glyphs flared across Seela’s HUD, reporting a sharp drop in maneuverability. She processed the reports in a heartbeat.

Although it still had fangs, the Xarûl was now a wounded beast.

Seela hissed, her fingers tightening on the yoke as she fought the new, clumsy drift in her machine. Nevertheless, the Twi’lek drove her starfighter in a break turn to starboard. Countermeasure pods popped in her wake—null gas that could cloud optics and break up sensor returns. Anticipating that the gas might frustrate the enemy’s attempt at pursuit, Seela vectored towards two of the other TIEs, both of which were momentarily stunned from her Fearburst missile.

She didn’t intend to give them the chance to recover.

She angled towards the TIEs in a pure pursuit, approaching from just over a kilometer away, above, behind, and to the portside of their craft. A thought passed between pilot and craft, then the Qorrak Heavy Lash Cannons opened up. Six red-black beams of dark plasma lanced through the void, set on a trajectory to strike both of the TIEs in their spheroid fuselages.

Should her shots connect, the enemy pilots, who might still be catatonic by the dread consuming their awareness, would potentially experience an explosive end to their nightmares!

Spoiler: Loadout

Craft: Xarûl-class Sith Starfighter Mk. II

• Status
  
  • Shields: 80%
  • Hull: 85%
  • Structure: 77%
• Armament
  
  • Abyssal Lash Cannon Mk. I (2) - Wing Mount
  • Qorrak Heavy Lash Cannon Mk. I (2) - Ventral
  • Shriekfang Swarm Pod Mk. I (2) - Ventral
    
    • Ripple Shock Warhead Missile (6)
    • Fearburst Warhead Missile (6)
• Pilot Equipment
  
  • FAE/A-09 Anti-G Suit
  • KIIR-24 'Stormclaw' Gauss Pistol
    
    • Attachments
      
      • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Ammunition
      
      • 64 Round Quad-Chamber Magazine (4)
        
        • GC-01 Slugs (64)

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wearing: Dress (link in post)
Concealed Blades: 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Others in the Objective: Velzari Tharn , Siv Kryze , Renn Vizsla , Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory , Dominique Vexx , Marlon Sularen , Riven OPEN

---

The hall was too warm for her comfort, the kind of heat that stuck to skin and fabric and made everything feel faintly alive in the wrong way. What made it worse was that she was in a silly dress instead of her usual armour, which made her feel almost naked, but not in the good sense of it. Scherezade lingered near one of the tall, narrow windows, watching the rain trace lines down the glass. Inside, the chatter was a dull hum that sounded to her like a hundred variations of the same polite noise.

She'd expected more.

No assassinations in the cloakroom, no public meltdowns, not even a dramatic fainting spell. Just murmured condolences and soft music designed to sound expensive. Her fingers drummed idly against her thigh, the rhythm offbeat, impatient.

A droid offered her a drink. She waved it away. A sigh, a shift of weight, another slow glance over the crowd. Nothing. Just more of the same, decorum dressed as grief, masks worn so long they'd grown into faces.

She rolled her shoulders once, the gesture small but restless, and let her gaze wander toward the door. Maybe she'd leave. Maybe not.

For now, she was simply bored.

 

[Drego Ruus]

Allies: Isobel Serraris
Enemies: Darth Strosius Naamino Zuukamano
​

One objective complete, now onto the next. That was always the plan, always the mentality. Despite it having been years since, Drego had never really broken the habits formed during his days as an Alliance Shocktrooper. To him, everything was procedural. Everything was a list of objectives.

Sometimes, he wondered what life would be if he hadn't become a soldier. The thought had rang through his head for years now, occasionally popping up. To be honest, Drego didn't know what he'd do with his life without the structure of being a soldier. He didn't know what to do most of the time when he wasn't thinking about the next mission. His hobbies were all tied to that life.

As he sat down in his speeder, going over the pre-flight checks he had done time and time again, he considered it. Get married? Start a restaurant? End up in an alley on Nar Shadda?

The speeder came to life, and Drego's thoughts were drown out by the sound of the ion engines. He couldn't think too hard on that. He had sith to fight. Before he took off from his stationary cockpit, he had a moment of clarity. He was gearing up to fight two sith on a planet he'd, until a few weeks ago, had never heard of.

His life was abnormal, that was for sure.

A grunt escaped his mouth as he pushed the throttle forward. The rev of the engine shot him forward out of the B-wing, and down towards the battlefield below. Closer, and closer he got. He could see shapes slowly form as he dove down. Two sith and...

A jedi. Someone he didn't want to blow out of the water, at least just yet. Better to aim for the Master then.

With the push of a button, two Air-to-ground missiles aimed right for Darth Strosius , high explosive tubes set to explode meters from the ground. He knew better than to risk letting the sith turn them back on him.

Once the missiles were away, Drego dove after them, before speaking a command.

"Return to base Tanya, I'm going in."

The cockpit flew open, and the Juggernaut inside leapt out, his jump boots activating to slow his fall.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I restrained my awareness to make it more enjoyable for you, what would you be saying had I known where you were from the start?"

There was no distinct shift in the Dark Lord's tone, but Allyson Locke would nonetheless be able to discern that He was deliberately teasing her. Both ends of His cloak hung down across His chest so that only His head was visible from above it's broad curtain, the rest of His body completely obfuscated. It made determining what He had directly in hand all the more difficult. It also concealed the placement of His feet and the way in which His body's energy was directed.

However, the curtain parted as His armored hand, talons glinting at the end of metal-coated articulated digits, emerged from within and positioned itself palm up. The floating shards congregated just above it, shifting in a vaguely serpentine shape as they coiled around in tight elliptical orbits. "I see you've taken a liking to Qabr'azm, my latest creation. An experiment of intent and design, the shards can reconfigure into any tool that I possess knowledge of." As if to illuminate that point, Qabr'azm shifted between several forms; all of them various instruments and most of them tools of butchery and dissection.

"But you have little to fear, I will not be implementing Qabr'azm against you. He will ensure that nothing encroaches on our battlefield." Just as Allyson knocked her arrow, the construct fully deconstructed into thousands and thousands of small shards, each the size of a granule of sand. They spread out and began to encircle the section of city around them, roughly an area of one hundred meters. Any who attempted to brave the whirling storm would be minced by a literal wall of flying razors.

The arrow flew, detonating just ahead of where the Dark Lord stood. He'd already jumped back, scale-cloak billowing around Him as He soared gracefully through the air. He landed safely on the hood of an abandoned landspeeder, the metal buckling beneath His armored greaves. By the time the smoke cleared, Allyson had disappeared from view. The Dark Lord maintained His self-imposed restrictions and allowed Allyson her advantage, His eyes visually scanning His surroundings like during their earlier fights.

"What do you want, Allyson? How many in your life have asked you that? Are you a creature merely set adrift between the wills of others, or is your will your own? Tell me what you want, Allyson Locke. Unburden yourself to me."

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Kryos]

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

Ahh, a worthy adversary. The demon moved with incredible speed despite his hulking figure covered in weighted battle armor, his reflexes honed from centuries of combat and amplified by his command of the Force. But Kryos shared those gifts.

Round after round screamed through the air, the crack of each bullet echoing through the streets. Kryos’s instincts took over. His crimson blade would not fully protect him from the slugs, so he instead held his left hand in front of him, using the Force to gently divert the path of each projectile. But as the volley continued, he recognized he could not keep this up much longer. Finally one of the rounds partially found its mark, skinning down his forearm and across his left shoulder, drawing blood in both spots. A superficial wound, but a proper warning that the Draconian should not be trifled with lightly.

No longer able to block the assault head on, Kryos spun to the side and into an alley, taking cover behind a building’s stone exterior. A momentary respite as smoke, dust, and debris filled the space in which he had stood less than a second earlier.

“A coward’s weapon!” he taunted, allowing the Force to carry his voice. He then leapt up the wall, quickly scrambling to the top of the one-story building. With lightning speed and a practiced agility, Kryos dashed across the rooftop and flew over the side, taking his lightsaber hilt in a two-handed inverted grip to drive it down at his opponent as he crashed back to the earth at the spot where the dragon had been posted.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Varin Mortifer
Location: Voss

Something had torn in Reina's throat, as the Ersansyr coughed up a globule of blood onto the ground, trying not to collapse onto her knees in pain. At least she had her gills to breathe through, but her mouth was utterly useless in this moment. She couldn't even answer what she had done to Varin, as she spluttered and coughed. It was more and more obvious why she both needed to practice this stream but also be wary as to when she used it.

And then Varin was down on the ground. Reina didn't know why. Right now, she was focusing on fighting through her own pain, even as she heard the Voss go down. Her hand tightened around Whisperwind, as Reina knew she could just rush in for a kill. Whilst Varin was stumbling, she could go for a decapitation. Use her speed to her advantage. She could beat him...But was that what she had needed to do? Did she have to solve the problem through death?

Her gaze swiftly darted over towards the Voss, struggling to move. Varin wasn't trying to kill him. That meant he needed the Voss alive. Intriguing. Thoughts were rushing through Reina's mind in thought as she tried to figure out what the right choice would be. She had to figure out her answer. And she came to a decision relatively quickly.

The original plan had for the Voss guy to be able to escape and get to whatever family might have been waiting for him, to find somewhere to survive with his family on this planet. Sure, they'd be stuck on a planet ruled by the Imperials but it wouldn't matter as long as he had his family...but Reina was about to change all of that, as she focused on the Force, focusing on the Force Enhancement running through her body before she burst out into a fit of speed, grabbing onto the Voss.

She couldn't even tell him that she was taking him away for his own safety. Reina couldn't speak whatsoever. Instead she just prepared to drag the Voss through the halls, using both her Enhanced speed and strength get back to her own shuttle. Killing wasn't the solution. There was always another way.

​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Implied Odds, Steal Foresight
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano / Drego Ruus / Isobel Serraris
--------------------------------------------

"It's not their guidance we seek, young Jedi, simply their foresight itself." The Acolyte didn't need any explicit command to begin engaging the Jedi, launching off a blast and sending forth a rushing mirror whilst the other reflection took up a more defensive stance. Naamino had some more sense and combat knowledge than many other Acolytes already it seemed. A fact which meant that Darth Strosius was more than content to sit back and make note of the scene before Him rather than moving to aid in cutting down the Jedi as well.

He had no qualms about letting the Acolyte handle the Jedi while He called for new transports and made sure the prisoners stayed unconscious. Naamino could surely handle one lone Jedi without His direct assistance, one which didn't seem all that potent in her power as of yet. Though there was of course always room for surprises an unexpected occurrences that He would be ready to intercept should they happen. And of course, as was usual when an affair was meant to be a swift and simple matter, something unexpected did indeed occur.

Darth Strosius sensed something that made Him tilt His head up in time to see what appeared to be a speeder falling from the sky and with a pair of missiles hurtling towards Him. "Incoming!" The masked man didn't hesitate to deactivate and clip His lightsaber back onto His belt, using His newly freed hand to grab up both of the Mystics by the scruff of their robes and leap away from where He had been standing. He couldn't exactly just allow His prizes to be destroyed after all.

He raised His sword towards the missiles and the newly emerged speeder pilot, a Mandalorian of all things, and focused His strength into the blade to loose three abysmally dark bladed bolts which soared to intercept the missiles and the descending pilot. As they traveled Darth Strosius set the Mystics back down to draw His lightsaber once more, casting a glance to check on Naamino and the Jedi just in case.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's rifle thundered, a relentless rhythm of power and precision. The full magazine barked from his weapon in rapid succession, each slug carving through smoke and flame as if seeking the heart of the shadow itself. The recoil shuddered up his arm, mechanical cadence lost beneath the roar of war. He watched through the muzzle flash as Kryos vanished into an alleyway, a streak of motion swallowed by dust and stone.

Without hesitation, Laphisto flicked the empty magazine free. It fell to the ground with a metallic clatter, bouncing once before vanishing into the ash. His hand moved with practiced efficiency new magazine in, slide racked, the familiar click-clack echoing against the ruined street. He shouldered the rifle once more, his stance wide and steady, scanning the shifting haze with a predator's patience.

Then came the voice taunting, sharp, dripping with arrogance. It slithered through the Force, carried by mockery and spite. Laphisto gave a low, rumbling sound from deep within his chest not quite a laugh, not quite a growl. Just acknowledgment. He had hit a nerve.

The air shifted. His instincts screamed a warning even before his eyes caught the movement above. Kryos burst from the rooftop, descending like a blade of his own making, red light trailing behind him like a comet's tail.

Laphisto reacted in the same breath. The rifle snapped upward, shoulders rotating with mechanical precision. The weapon thundered again three, four, five shots tearing into the descending figure. Slugs sparked against stone and steel, the impacts lighting the street in flashes of white and orange.

The Dark Jedi came down fast. As the gap closed, Laphisto's expression hardened beneath the helm. The Force welled inside him, pulsing through his veins like liquid fire. His aura bled outward, raw force energy rolled off him in waves, like fog drifting over an edge or water overspilling from a cup.

. Energy poured off him in waves, rippling through the air, fueling the use of the force around him. The raw power coursing through him was almost suffocating Light and Dark intertwined, indistinguishable, seamless. It wasn't rage that filled him but something older, deeper a focused, instinctive unity that defied the galaxy's divisions.

The dragon dropped his rifle, letting it fall to the side as his arms rose to meet the strike. Kryos's crimson blade screamed downward, cutting through the air with lethal precision only to meet an unyielding palm. The impact cracked like thunder.

Laphisto caught the lightsaber bare-handed, his gauntlet flaring hot where it met the plasma. Tutaminis. Sparks burst across his armor as the weapon's energy ground against his will, molten air swirling around the contact point. The force of the blow drove him to one knee, talons scraping grooves into the cobblestone.

A guttural snarl rumbled through Laphisto's throat, deep and animalistic, more instinct than voice. The Force welled behind his hands like compressed thunder. In the next instant, he lurched upward with explosive strength, channeling that energy outward in a single, devastating release.


The air detonated.

A concussive shockwave burst from his palms, a focused blast that struck outward with enough force to crack the stone beneath his knees. Dust and shards of rubble tore through the air as the shockwave expanded, a rolling echo of kinetic power that sought to hurl the Dark Jedi backward and reclaim the space between them. Laphisto rose fluidly with the motion, wings unfurling just enough to steady his balance amid the recoil. Without missing a beat, his hand reached down. The rifle lay half-buried in dust, still warm from its last volley.

He seized it by the barrel and, in one smooth motion, flung it end-over-end toward his opponent. The weapon spun through the air, a whirling silhouette backlit by firelight a distraction, a weapon, and a statement all in one. As the weapon left his grasp, his other hand moved to his hip. A sharp snap-hiss split the air. The teal-blue blade flared to life, reflecting off the scorched surfaces around him. The weapon's hum was low, resonant its light washing across his armor, glinting along the edges of his wings.

He lowered into a forward stance, the saber held steady before him, the faint shimmer of heat distortion tracing its edge. There were no words, no warning. Only the rhythmic thrum of the weapon and the weight of a predator preparing for the next strike.

---

If Kryos held fast against his push. Laphisto felt the resistance instantly the clash of Force against Force locking them in a brutal stalemate. His snarl deepened, the sound vibrating through the plating of his armor as he shifted his footing, muscles coiling with sudden intent.

Then, without hesitation, he adapted. Releasing one hand from the saber's energy, he pivoted sharply, lowering his center of gravity as his free hand shot downward in a tight, deliberate strike. The motion was pure instinct a soldier's reflex sharpened by centuries of combat. His palm aimed low and precise, driving toward the Dark Jedi's leading knee with bone-cracking intent.

The Force surged through his body, augmenting muscle and motion alike. It didn't blaze wildly it flowed, pouring through every limb like molten iron through veins. Force Valor wrapped him like invisible armor, heightening every sense, every motion. His strike came fast and hard, not as a brawler's swing but as a precision assault designed to maim, to destabilize, to shift control of the battlefield back into his hands.

Kryos