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

[Adelle Bastiel]

Mining Post 3143
Tags: Direct: Ranna Sejast | Eenia Vahn || Indirect: Nero Drake | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Seela Leini | Ronhar Tane | Kaine Hamilton | Van Trask
Gear: 785MK Firepuncher-X sniper rifle | Ori Sidaki “The Big Ripper” | WESTAR-34 blaster pistol | Beskad | Euk Siha service knife | Lightsaber

The Kom'rk class gunship had hardly landed before the Mandalorians inside jumped out and the ship itself took off again. While she was no supercommando, Adelle belonged to the Iron Wolves of the Empire and could handle her own.

"Bye! Have fun storming the castle!"

The pilot sounded cheery over the comms. Adelle smiled grimly--pilots she ranked as only slightly crazier than Corellians and Mandalorians. And she was both Corellian and Mandalorian so how crazy did that make her? She checked her weapons as she followed after the supercommandos, sniper slung from her shoulder, pistol holstered, blades sheathed, lightsaber maglocked, and blaster rifle in hand. A fight was all but certain: beskar was a highly sought after commodity among the wider galaxy and nigh sacred for the Mandalorians. She looked over at her fellow Healer, a former Jedi like herself, Nia.

"I'll try not to make your life too difficult," she said, shouldering her blaster and aiming down its sights as the comms channel exploded with information about enemy contact. "Take cover!"

Adelle darted behind a crate, poking out every now and again to try and take out some of the pirates holding the mining post. She might not have the background of a Mandalorian supercommando, but CorSec was no slouch when it came to weapons training. And it didn't hurt that she had precognition through the Force.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Weal & Woe
Kor'ethyr Issued Kainate Trooper Armor
Stun Baton
Armor Permissions

Ojective: Assist Darth Strosius with Exfill of Mystics
Assets are to be retrieved alive, per the Prophets orders
Opposition: Drego Ruus | Isobel Serraris
Additional Objective: Kill the Jedi

Seeing that his Force blast landed only served to spur him on. Naamino wouldn't allow himself to become distracted by small victories and he steeled himself against the temptation to go easy against an unprepared foe. What was she fiddling with? Comm for backup maybe? All the more reason to defeat her quickly. The imposing zabrak closed the distance, bringing forth Weal in an aggressive overhead strike, before whirling into a low sweeping kick with his heavily armored boot. Naamino was utilizing Juyo in the most broad sense of the term, clearly unafraid of using both his saber and body to wear down her defenses as quickly as possible.

He did however grimace beneath his helm at the annoying buzz, an almost constant rattle that came from somewhere on her person. Naami didn't deign to respond to her words, as he was uninterested in entertaining anything remotely resembling Dun Möch.

Elsewhere, Naami's double moved to save itself from impending doom from the second interloper. The doppelgänger dutifully dove and rolled out of the way, only to spring up and sprint toward where the Prophet set the Mystics down once more. The duplicate slid to a silent stop and readied Woe, taking a defensive stance at the flank of the sangnir.

 

[Isobel Serraris]

Location — Voss-Ka, Voss
Objective — Objective one: Implied Odds // Best the Sith in combat
Tags — Drego Ruus // Darth Strosius , Naamino Zuukamano
Paraphernalia — Battle Armour, Lightsabers

/​

The words of the--presumably--higher-ranked SIth echoed within her mind, guidance, foresight, what difference was there? Their purpose was to exploit a resource not meant for them. Destiny did not demand it, if it were so, these Voss would have given in without struggle. Yet as history had shown, over and over, Sith paid no mind to the calls of a higher purpose, they only saw what they wanted to see, and took what they wanted to take. That was not justice, that was tyranny in its rawest form, and that tyranny made them powerful, feared, and made them blind. For the Jedi of Old lectured plenty on how hate blinded, how anger made a foe reckless--and though these teachings had been theory before, they would soon take shape as the dance of blades had erupted.

Purple clashed with pink as she countered the overhead strike with ease, bringing her double-bladed lightsaber up and then applying some force to rotate it and bring the foe's blade down to the ground. The action took a bit out of her, so much so that not even the brief glimpse of the kick could save her from the blow--right? Not exactly, due to the many bits and bobs added to the armour, she surprisingly found herself still standing with two feet on the ground. The kick leaving only an unpleasant pressure against her knees. The Padawan threw a brief glance to her legs, before letting out a surprised laugh. "Oh how brilliant!" Isobel let out with a heavy breath, before twirling her lightsaber around for a strike, trying to build some room between the two, and at the same time defend herself against his aggressive strikes.

His form was unfamiliar to her, it dealt powerful strikes that left a small echo upon the Force. His might clearly flowing forth out of his anger, or the other passionate feelings the Sith drew on. But it forced her hand on which style she must adopt to counter it, and though she knew only three--in their basics, Jar'Kai a quiet fourth--Soresu might see her through this battle the longest. The Resilience Form, built to defend against mostly blasterfire, but also against the strikes from a lightsaber-wielding enemy. With a double-bladed lightsaber it was not impossible to utitilise Form III, but she did find herself struggling more than she had hoped. Twirling the lightsaber around in a defensive manner, trying to forge a shield around herself and redirect any of his strikes toward the ground.

Though given her inexperience with Soresu, and the disadvantage of utilising it with a double-bladed lightsaber, she unintentionally left plenty of room for the acolyte to break this fragile barrier. Should he time it right...

​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique listened attentively to what Marlon had to say about his ambitions. His dreams. Building an Empire to shift the balance of power away from the Force User-focused governments? That wasn't unreasonable. She would hope that wouldn't lead to genocide and planetary bombardment, but one had to be careful how you phrased that openly. Force Users certainly were a threat. Jedi often were consumed with disrupting "legitimate" business on Denon in the pursuit of "justice." But that didn't mean they needed to be annihilated. Just some judicious curtailing of their presumed mandate to act however they pleased. After all, even Force Users purchased goods and services from Denon -- there was no need to support the murder of your clients.

Unless the compensation made up for the loss of customers, but that too was not a matter easily discussed in the open.

A light, party-appropriate laugh followed the Supreme Commander's doubt of her ability to contribute. "Supreme Commander, Denon might be a member of the High Republic, but that does not mean we cannot engage in trade with other peoples or governments in the galaxy." Though if the Republic made it illegal to do so, one would presume such trade would be cut off; and such people would be wrong. For the same reason Dominique was not concerned if one or more factions claimed the Trade Route out to Bonadan. The appropriate credits to the right people made all the difference in the universe. To say nothing of the hypergates. No, legality was be a convenience that if lost would raise prices, but not unreasonably so. "We are all independent members, after all, free to act within the broad legal scope of the Republic how we will."

"Why, I cannot see the Republic Senate having the gall to cut off needed humanitarian supplies, for instance. Severing all ties is a sordid affair that causes rippling effects many choose to avoid. If there are goods or services the Confederation require, Denon is always ready to assist those in need." They did trade even with Sith, after all. Not openly, but a customer was a customer and credits were credits. What did Denon's companies have to do with someone's belief system?

There were exceptions, of course. The Black Sun -- specifically their spokesperson Arcadian -- seemed to enjoy pressing their luck moving in on Denon. Dominique was not much of a fan of people that thought her world was theirs for the taking; whether by military arms or bald-faced influence of the Board (which belonged to her, far as Dominique was concerned).

And then there would be complications if Denon goods were levied against the Republic itself. Especially because Denon's own fleet was being used to supplement the Republic's along the edge the Confederation might strike from -- should the unthinkable hot war between them ignite.

Marlon Sularen​

 

[Drego Ruus]

Nearby: Naamino Zuukamano Isobel Serraris
Engaging: Darth Strosius
​

Drego didn't expect the missiles to work, and yet the shockwave the two sent through the air should do something. He sure felt it, even if his suit automatically adjusted to the sudden rush of pressure.

First one, then two. The missiles erupted in high explosive energy as the blades of darkness impacted them, as Drego felt through the explosion. He used it to his advantage, as he always did. Pulling his shotgun off his back, he felt the final spear impact his armor, only to deflect as the voidstone within the metal did it's job. Simultaneously, he launched two micro missiles not at the sith lord, but behind it towards the mystics before letting loose a grenade towards the sith lord. One might expect it to be yet another round of high explosives, but Drego had used that trick once. He knew better than to rely on it twice in a row.

Instead, right before the shockwave of the exploding missiles hit Strosius, the grenade erupted with a sticky substance that spread out like a shotgun blast towards him.

 

[Ranna Sejast]

​

Objective: Play With Pirates!
Location: Mining Post 3143
Equipment: Beskar'gam, Enclave Bowie Knife, Blaster Pistols
Ship: Kom'rk-Type Fighter-Transport
Tags: Nero Drake Adelle Bastiel Eenia Vahn

​

One of the snub fighters went up in flames, prompting Ranna to let out a whoop as it slammed into an asteroid. Immediatly after, she winced behind her helmet's T-shaped visor as another stitched rapid laser fire down her Kom'rik's pointed wing. Checking the shield readout to see the damage, the Mandalorian pilot was pleasantly surprised. Either the combination of shields on her new baby were incredible, or those lasers were so underpowered that these raiders would have difficulty taking down a shuttle. Still, she wasn't no Jedi, and even learning how resilient her new ride was, she wasn't eager to put it to the test, so Ranna pulled back on the throttle, swinging around the asteroid station in a tight curving dive that kept her ventral side to the rocky surface.

Her copilot called out, warning her of Imperials headed in system and of a ship powering up in one of the mining outpost's hangers. "Where we were heading anyways." She replied and fire walled the throttle again as she rolled the weapon selector on the control stick to bring the under-mounted missile racks online. Usually Rana felt that her fellow Mandalorians overdid it on the weapons, but this was the ship that just kept on giving.

Over the Mandalorian tac-net, she called out a warning as the blue atmospheric shield of the hangers came into view. "Tour bus here! Clear the hanger or tuck tail!" Some of the fighters were back on her as she lined up for a pass over the hanger's yawning mouth, but she held steady with the durasteel nerves of a veteran bomber pilot. Just before the opening, Ranna depressed the release stud, raining down explosive missiles from one edge of the rocky hanger to the other and carpeting the interior walls and everything upright with blossoming fire. Laughing again, she went evasive, enjoying the feeling of knowing she wasn't the one footing the munitions bill for once.

​

 

[Van Trask]

Oort Cloud, Mid Rim Territories
​

The Brute shuddered with each shot of the falchette cannon. A warning flashed on his HUD as the barrel started overheating, Van quickly dismissing out as he continued his volley. He watched as puffs of metallic microfibers jettisoned out the back of the Xarul, the chaff throwing off his radar lock. He felt the ball turret of the Brute start shifting rapidly.

His free hand went straight for the radar, flipping switches as he tried to reacquire a lock. A sudden glitch on the screen caught his attention before the whole radar went white, reading thousands of false tracks all across the board. Something was in the system.

"Damnit." He said aloud as he smacked the radar unit to no avail. He stared back out the cockpit to the fighter he was chasing. "The hell even are you?"

He want back to the radar shutting it down and rebooting the system. A loading bar appeared on the screen and an excruciatingly long 'three minutes' appeared above it. He'd be flying by eye for now.

As the Xarul banked hard starboard he yanked on his own controls, struggling without a flight computer feeding him on trajectory information of his enemy. The slow Brute began to trail behind as the Xarul arced further and further until it was perpendicular from him. He watched as it closed its next target, the two crippled TIEs still floating aimlessly by the freighter.

The six bolts found their mark the first TIE erupting in a ball of flames while the second had its port solar collector sheered off before sending it spiralling out of control. The top of the cockpit hissed before shooting off into space, followed by the pilot strapped to his ejection seat.

In the blink of an eye his flight had been decimated.

He flicked on the comms to an open communication channel directed at his foe. <"Some fancy toys you got, made quick work of my boys. Then again you can't expect much from academy pilots.">

His comm unit crackled with another transmission from the Colonel Cronus who had no doubt also picked up his communication. He shut them out before they were even able to get a word out.

<"Just me and you now. No distractions. No wingmen.">

As they continued their spiral chase he grabbed a joystick to his left taking manual control of the ball turret. His radar was still out but accuracy was overrated anyway. He pulled back on his joystick until the cannons were facing nearly vertical from the TIE and aimed roughly at the Xarul's position. He checked if he had the airburst shells selected and with a grin on his face he let out a wild volley, keeping the trigger pulled far longer than what imperial gunnery doctrine would recommend.

Seela Leini ​

 

[Jared Starchaser]

A reporter? That was not on Jared’s guess for anything to happen, really ever. He looked to the group and shook his head. The Jedi Seeker was the type who wanted to fight first, ask questions later, especially when the target of his attack was a known quantity.

Known, at least, to be an enemy of the Jedi, and specifically, the Kattadan Enclave.

He liked to take something to distract the target before he could really close in, and the shot at the weapon was not something unexpected. The cortosis was a good shot, and he was okay with finding his weapon taking that shot. He’d be ready to accept it coming his way in the future of this fight. But it was also why he was armed with his fixed blade weapon. Jared learned from past mistakes.

And having more weapons was always a good thing.

“Psychics, here?” Jared shook his head as he finished his run, getting up in Arris’s space and swinging the Reef’s Edge, intent on at least one gun hand.

Jedi adjacent didn't always mean Jedi.

Arris Windrun

 

[Anet Raine]

Tag: Tamsin Starfall

Adopted each other? The explanation surprised Anet; she wore it on her face, wide-eyed, before tempering her reaction.

Anet cleared her throat and took another sip of her cocktail.

"I know I don't look like a giantess blonde warrior, but a version of me gave my sister one hell of a fight."

"A version of you?" She had to ask.

Ambiguous enough to mean nothing at all, but the unique selection of words drew the scholar in immediately. That was, of course, until Tamsin addressed the cephalopod in the room. The near-human looked over to him again, this time with a devious smirk - for Tamsin, of course.

"That J'feh," she corrected, "is Bisqu Jarro... owner of a prominent shipwright interest in the Sector. Though recently down on his luck."

As she had heard it, the J'feh had made a series of bad market bets and owed more debt than his assets were worth. "Nasty business with no exit strategy" is how her father would have put it. Thankfully, he wasn't here, and she did have an exit strategy for the nervous loner.

She looked at Tamsin again, her smirk lingering. "With recent developments on Voss, I dare say there might be a way to restore his luck after all."

Assuming any of them made it off-world with a Mystic in tow, that prophetic gift might be used to predict market trends. The only missing step was how to profit.

She leaned in, conspiratorially, and whispered. "We will lend him credits with his assets as leverage... and provide a helpful hand in playing the market. The earnings should keep him afloat for a time, but a bad businessman like him... Surely his luck will run out again, and we'll come in and take it all."

Anet felt a twisted pleasure at the thought. As much as she might despise her father and the galaxy's more "civilized" places, she couldn't help but enjoy the thought of ruining Jarro's life. That it was to benefit the Covenant in the end was merely a perk.

 

[Kryos]

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

The seconds passed as minutes, time seeming to crawl as the surge of adrenaline met his Force-sharpened senses. Kryos came crashing down as the slugs exploded into the wall behind him, their size and velocity nearly taking down the side of the building. He anticipated this battle would soon end quickly when his blade plunged straight through the Draconian.

But Laphisto had many tricks. An opponent unlike any other Kryos had faced before. His lightsaber slammed directly into his opponent’s giant palm. Into it, but not through it. How unexpected. A brief pause — as if time had frozen still. Then he erupted. The explosion of power sent Kryos several feet through the air, slamming his back into the near destroyed wall behind him. He absorbed as much of the impact as he could muster with the Force, escaping mostly unharmed despite the shape of his body now formed into the crushed stones against his back.

Kryos barely dodged the incoming rifle — an unexpected move, using the projectile launcher as an actual projectile — turning his head just enough as it exploded into pieces next to his face, a few small shards still catching his face. He ignored the bloody scratches, instead focused on the glowing teal-blue blade that suddenly sprung to life in the dusty street before him.

Without warning, Laphisto was on him, bringing that very blade in for a killing strike. Kryos met the challenge, his own crimson lightsaber now held in a regular two-handed grip, locking with that of his opponent in a messy entanglement of plasma and sparks. He gritted hard, teeth clinched, pushing back against the attack. You will not overwhelm me, demon! But more tricks. He felt the weight shift as Laphisto released one hand from his weapon and brought it down with crushing momentum toward his knee. Kryos tried to adjust, but he was not quick enough to fully dodge the strike. The palm connected — hard.

While he may have avoided the bone-breaking intent with his bulk and agility, the blow nevertheless took Kryos to the ground. Pain shot through his leg and he fell to a kneeling position, holding his blade up with all his might to keep it locked with Laphisto’s as he was forced to a much lower position. He growled — no, more like a frustrated yell — as he felt the anger swelling. Had he been so careless as to underestimate his opponent?

NO! Kryos released his left hand and, knowing he could not hold this position for any amount of time, quickly shot it out it to the side. With the Force, he lifted a large piece of stone rubble from the street, and brought it hurling toward Laphisto.

 

[Pal Veda]

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

“Toman, Toman, Toman,” Veda muttered to himself as he ascended another staircase, “Where are they hiding you?” Once they reached the top, he abruptly came to a halt and signaled for his newly rescued partner to do the same.

“I’m going to check — wait, what’s your name?”

The mystic looked puzzled and annoyed at the same time. “Benjen.”

“Okay, Benjen. I’m going to check the hallway. You stay here.” Veda looked down at the pirate’s blaster in the cleric’s hand. “Know how to use that?”

“We don’t use guns,” he replied.

“You do now. If you see any bad guys just—“ he grabbed the barrel and lifted it up—“point like this, and pull the trigger. Got it?”

Without waiting on a response, Veda took off around the corner and into the long corridor. The layout mirrored that of the floor below, making this a bit easier to navigate than the first time. He opened the first door on his right to find the room empty. Not here. Then he did the same to the next door. And the same result.

No way they’d be using the exact same room on this level for Toman as they used for Benjen below, right? Was that even a question? These Black Sun mercs weren’t geniuses. They were just footsoldiers following orders. Of course they would use the exact same room. Confident in his decision, Veda continued past the next two doors before stopping in front of the third. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Muffled voices, but he couldn’t quite make out the dialogue.

Veda took a step back, postured up, then kicked the wooden door open, nearly out of its frame.

“What the—“ PEW! PEW! Two shots and the dirty Rodian was as dead as Greedo when Han walked out of the Mos Eisley Cantina. Veda stepped inside to clear the room, blaster still at the ready. All he found was a small statured Zabrak tied to a chair with a cloth gag to prevent him from talking. The gunslinger holstered his weapon and drew his knife from its sheath.

“Mmmmrmmmrmrmr! Mrrrmrmmrmrr!”

“Give me a minute, I ain’t here to hurt ya. I’m cuttin’ you loose.” The mystic calmed down a bit when he realized Veda was his savior, not his killer, at least today. He made quick work of the ropes and pulled the cloth from the cleric’s mouth. “You Toman?”

“Yeah . . . Yes,” he stammered. This one was a little less cocky than the other. The cuts and bruises on his face would explain that. He’d been roughed up a bit by his kidnappers. “How did you know?”

“I already rescued your buddy Benjen. He’s waitin’ on us. Let’s go.”

Knowing better than to give this one a gun, Veda led him out into the hallway and back toward the stairs to meet the other freed hostage. As they stepped into the stairwell . . . PEW! A blaster bolt zipped by his face and terminated into the stone wall behind his head.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Veda yelled, his own blaster already back in his hand and pointed at the culprit. Luckily, he didn’t fire.

Benjen stared blankly, then dropped his weapon to the ground. “I . . . You told me to shoot if anybody came!”

“You dumb son of a . . . I said shoot the bad guys! Not me!”

While Veda was yelling at the mystic for almost putting a hole through his head, Toman brushed past him to get to his colleague. “Benjen!”

“Thank the Force! You’re alive!”

“Barely.” The Zabrak’s hands rubbed the sore spots on his face, the emotional pain matching the physical. “But yes, I’m alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Veda interrupted, “We’re all alive. Now how do we get out of here?” The mystics looked at each other, using only their expressions to communicate. And maybe the Force? Who knows. But Veda could clearly see what was going on. “Look, if you want my help, you have to trust me. I’m being paid to get you out the Tower and off the planet. So you need to tell me where your little secret tunnels are, preferably one that leads to the east where my ship is waitin’ on us.”

Finally, Toman spoke up. “The wine cellar.”

 

[Judah Dashiell]

​

Somehow the funeral had dissolved to droning on about the government. He was only half paying attention, busy with a whisky neat on the rocks, lost in a little bit of thought. Most times these things were all about appearance. Show up, make yourself known. Not showing was like a slap in the face to all of society. Plus, he liked to keep tabs on the goings on in the 'verse. Although he wasn't exactly doing well with that right now.

Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room, spotting a woman ( Scherezade deWinter ) looking equally bored as he did. After a small mental debate if he should say hello, Judah left his wallflower spot to drift closer to her.

"Quite the thrilling night, is it not?" Voice was low, as not to disturb the conversation about cutting off food aid. A hand was offered in greeting. "Judah Dashiell, a pleasure."

 

[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
Tags: Judah Dashiell | OPEN
Others in the Objective: Velzari Tharn , Siv Kryze , Renn Vizsla , Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory , Dominique Vexx , Marlon Sularen , Riven

---

People were speaking all around her. Scherezade groaned, an unhappy expression all too easy to read on her face. She had come here expecting… Well, she didn't know exactly what, but it wasn't that. She certainly hoped that if a day came that she had her own funeral, it wouldn't be this much of a dud. Maybe she ought to write a will somewhere, to make sure her funeral was full of confetti and fireworks and cake.

Perhaps it was time to leave. Unless she opted to make a scene and go do something with the corpse in the casket, but… No, not in this dress, she wasn't in the mood to rip it apart so she could move properly while people tried to punch or kill her.

And then came a voice.

Judah Dashiell, a pleasure.

Wait, someone was actually speaking to her? Here? Glowing green eyes blinked in confusion before filling with more warmth, a smile spreading over her face. She didn't recognize the name. She didn't have to.

"Scherezade deWinter," she answered, shaking the offered hand, "So very very thrilling. So thrilling that I'm considering going to my ship, repaint the walls of common area, and then sit down and watch it dry."

She took her hand back and sighed. Whether the joke had landed or not, it didn't quite matter. "But I'll settle for a decent meal. Do you know any places nearby that don't totally suck?"

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T H E_M O M E N T U M_O F_V I C T O R Y
Objective I : A Trinary Offensive

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
LAKONIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

​

Even though Dominique gave her reassurances that any agreement between Denon and the Confederation would face minimal intervention from the High Republic, Sularen still remained skeptical as he still remembered situations like the Kuati Crisis and the Epoch Uprising. In both of these cases both Kuat and Epoch, member worlds of the Galactic Government, found their governments overthrown and replaced by more Pro-Alliance puppet regimes due to a conflict of interest between those planet's allegiances to the Alliance and their dealings with other factions.

While Denon's Corporatist Regime was too entrenched to be overthrown via a Republic-sponsored rebellion as was in the case of Kuat and Epoch, that still left a direct military intervention as a viable option to force Denon to abandon any sort of partnership they would establish with the Imperial Confederation. Then again, Sularen knew far too little about the Republic and how it would handle situations like that as only time would tell whether the High Republic was a more relaxed government or a more interventionist one when it came to their member worlds.

"Well that's good to hear." the Supreme Commander said, responding to Vexx's statement. "Although i must say, I'm quite curious" Sularen continued. "Why exactly have you taken an interest in working with the Imperial Confederation?" he inquired. Given how Senators and other Politicians from democratic and light-side galactic governments had historically held a strong aversion towards Imperials, Sularen was naturally curious to know more about the esteemed Senator of Denon's motivations behind her desire to reach a mutually-beneficial agreement with the Confederation.

Perhaps with her response, he could learn more about Vexx and potentially leverage such information to strengthen their soon-to-be established partnership for the sake of mutual benefit and satisfaction as always.

[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 ​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

"Denon has an Open Door policy, Supreme Commander. Who doesn't require every day essentials, cutting edge research, or the latest in defense technologies? In our long history, we haven't seen the need to discriminate against clients because of political disagreements that have nothing to do with ourselves and another party." Dominique smiled. "A contract is a contract, after all."

"The Imperial Confederation could be one of those clients. Yours is a thriving economy with needs and even resources that we would gladly take in exchange, or purchase at market value. We believe in establishing lasting relationships throughout the galaxy." Not for moral initiatives or political purposes, of course, but for financial gain. Dominique represented her people and their corporate interests, after all.

"I cannot deny that politics may make it difficult to exchange very specific goods should interstellar governmental relations breakdown," Denon was still within the boundary of the High Republic and subject to its laws. "However, I think you'll find we're skilled at ensuring our commitments are met in a timely fashion even in the strongest of storms."

The Denonite Director regarded Marlon Sularen to try and gauge whether his concern had been placated. "Those precious few circumstances we are unable to do so are declared in all of our contracts. Notably those at risk of disruption. It benefits all parties to have such information on hand to make all necessary decisions." Obviously attacking Denon itself would render every contract null and void should they choose to exercise that clause. Openly attacking the Republic -- engaging in war -- was another though hopefully one they could... negotiate.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Someone was hoping to ambush them but fortunately they had reverted to real space before entering the range of the gravity wells.

MONEYLINE​

Ahhh. The convenience of good fortune. Truly, no greater boon in the galaxy.

Nor worse enemy.

For no sooner didst the meager patrol arrive, emerging by some convergence of fate and happenstance before the gravity wells could snare them, then did the eye of the Vahlan Seer behold their arrival. He needed no sensors. He had the Force.

The Dark Side rippled from him as he muttered some foul Sith incantation. One moment the Sabaoth-class destroyer was there, the next she became invisible to eye and sensor alike.

Thusly did the ghostly galleon churn through space toward the Imperial Confederation patrol. Gerra had no need to speak commands either, for his very will impressed upon the minds of the targeting officers, the engineers, the helmsman, and all the rest with the art of Sith Battle Meditation. He stood upon his bridge, arms crossed beneath his chest, and eyes closed.

​

One of the modifications to the Sabaoth didst include the replacing of a turbolaser battery with a missile launching bay. Promptly, silently, immediately, the invisible destroyer maneuvered from behind the comet and launched a pair of assault concussion missiles toward the Oathkeeper. These too did Gerra cloak in Sith sorcery, concealing their presence from sensor and the naked eye both as they hurtled through space toward their objective: the light cruiser. The chepatite-thorium warheads were grievous weapons made for slaying capital ships, meant to pierce deep into their bowels and detonate, breaking them apart like a chisel splits a boulder.

Onward sped the invisible missiles.

Onward crept the invisible destroyer.

And yet, somehow, Gerra didst suspect that the convenience of good fortune would produce fruits once more. Ahh. Foul fortune. He did loath her so.

Kaine Hamilton

 

[Arris Windrun]

Direct tags: Jared Starchaser | Bob Taric

The Jedi's sword pushed and then sliced clean through her revolver's barrel, just as it fired a second shot, and sent half the ambassador flying onto the floor.

"Damn!" She thought.

At the same time, Arris winced as she felt an incredible twinge of pain in her chest.

She discarded what was left of it and drew another revolver. One of the KXP-2s that Mauve gifted her. It was loaded with a slug rather than a shell like its twin in her other hand. A slug that, apparently, could not be directly influenced by the Force. The cyborg thought it was an ideal choice, given the force-sensitive Mystics.

She slid back on her feet, with eyes still locked on her opponent. For a second, it was a glare, and her jaw was tight... until it loosened into a sly smirk. It was right as she was ready to fire, though she held off.

"I'm just here for the Mystics... Don't even wanna hurt 'em. Wanna cut a deal like Tilon?"

If he decided to attack her instead, Arris would fire the slug - aiming for his chest, unless he had something particularly sly up his sleeve.

Spoiler: "FU Slug"

FU SLUG: This slug is a shell full of hardened bone flechettes made from the bones of Yuuzhan Vong. Since the Yuuzhan Vong do not have a presence in the Force, these bones cannot simply be smacked out of the way by a Force User.

 

[Darth Strosius]

View attachment 1944​

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

A muttered curse slipped from His mask as Darth Strosius sensed the shockwave spreading in the wake of the missiles' interception. They had gotten far closer than they should have, in hindsight He should've shot them down before He moved to dodge, and as such even in destruction they still proved to be a threat. An oversight but one that He could correct. Another curse escaped Him when He noticed the Mandalorian somehow still making his way towards the ground.

With enough gall to loose some more projectiles His way as well. A glance revealed that Naamino was still occupied with the Jedi so He'd have to handle this little interruption on His own, one problem at a time. First the shockwave would hit but Darth Strosius was fairly certain that He could simply let it wash over Him and block it from harming the Mystics without issue. The pair of micro missiles veering towards them and the grenade hurled at Him were in dire need of addressing however.

He raised His sword to ready another spear but before He could loose it the grenade went off in mid-air, revealing itself to be some form of trap rather than a simple explosive. He definitely couldn't allow that to land. With the shockwave still barreling towards Him the masked man raised both hands and centered His focus. Using the existing shockwave He could somewhat slow down the missiles.

Not enough to properly halt them but enough to give Him the chance to shift the substance from the grenade up into their arcs. Darth Strosius shoved the shockwave back and let the missiles meet the substance in mid-air, sparing Himself and the Mystics from any immediate threats but unfortunately keeping Him too occupied to send anything else towards the Mandalorian.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto leaned into the saber lock, the hum of colliding plasma vibrating through his armor. Sparks cascaded between them in a storm of teal and crimson, the air hissing from the heat of it. The muscles in his arms flexed and locked as he pressed forward, his draconic frame casting a dark shadow over his kneeling opponent.

Without hesitation, he shifted his stance feet digging into shattered stone, wings flaring slightly for balance. His free hand tore from the hilt, striking down toward Kryos's elbow with the same brutal precision that had nearly shattered the man's knee moments before. It wasn't rage that drove the motion, but cold efficiency a soldier's instinct to disable, to dismantle, to end a threat cleanly. But the movement halted in an instant.

Laphisto's senses flared an invisible ripple in the Force, sudden and sharp. His golden eyes flicked toward the outstretched arm of his opponent, tracking the surge of telekinetic energy gathering there. He didn't need to see what Kryos was reaching for to understand the danger; the intent was enough. His body reacted before thought could catch up.

With a sharp flex of his wings and a powerful backward leap, he propelled himself from the clash. Dust and fractured debris scattered in his wake as he landed several meters back, crouched low, saber raised defensively at his side. The air trembled as something massive shifted a deep, grinding sound like the earth itself being torn open. Laphisto's eyes narrowed.

He didn't know what the Dark Jedi had summoned toward them stone, wreckage, perhaps the ruin of the street itself but he sensed its weight, its violence. Rather than retreat further, he adapted. His hand extended, claws flexing as his will reached outward not to the projectile itself, but to the crumbling wall behind Kryos.

The air thickened as the Force pulled taut like a bowstring. Then, with a sound like rending metal, Laphisto yanked. The ruined wall groaned and tore free from its foundation, chunks of duracrete and ancient stone dislodging in a single, brutal motion. He didn't throw it at the man not yet. Instead, he pulled, using the momentum of the collapsing structure to drag Kryos forward into his own telekinetic strike, intending to fold the Dark Jedi's aggression against him.

Kryos

 

[Tibera Jessen]

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

Explosions rocked the area around Tibera, the gunship above her, the whole area becoming fuzzy in her helmet display! Was that a radiation weapon?! Cripes, hopefully she hadn't gotten dosed! Her right hand left the massive particle weapon she carried, moving to reset the display of her HUD. Great, high tech chit never survived these kinds of weapons.

It was a few moments before everything came back to life in her view. She was glad when it did though, there was something closing fast, extremely fast! At first she thought it was a speeder bike by the sheer velocity it was reaching, but the dust trail it kicked up would be way too small! It'd have to be some kind of critter on stims or something!

"Just once I'd like a normal frakking detail on some backwater fething world somewhere," Tibera grumbled, before addressing any convoy survivors around her over comms. "Look alive you all! We've got a contact incoming, fast to the east!"

Whatever was coming, it would be on her soon enough, only problem was she couldn't see the bloody thing. To her it was a distant blur, then again it was hard for her to see just about anything at that distance. It was strange though, there should have been some indication that something was there! Then again with all the smoke and interference it'd be lucky to see a Rancor at that distance...

There was an uneasy quiet for a few seconds after the explosion, enough to cause fear to seep in. There was no telling who or even what would be coming, sure as hell wasn't friendly, whatever it was. These bastards, whoever they were, they were well armed and entrenched. A battle against them would see the convoy scrapping against something beyond a few native fighters. At the end of the day, these soldiers were just ordinary people, not Jedi, they couldn't even see their deaths coming...

"Chit, this is gonna be a long damned fight isn't it..."

It was either going to be a prolonged fight, or the shortest one Tibera had ever been in. It was clear that either way, this job did not pay enough. Tibera would be telling Sularen about this encounter, and wringing every credit she could out of the pompous dictator's ratty pockets!

"Come on you worthless scum... Show your fething face so I can blast it..."

A-02 Verpine Shatter Autocannon
PBHR-01 Particle Beam Heavy Repeater