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

[Kryos]

MPLIED ODDS
Location: Voss-Ka
Objective: Spill Blood
Opposition: Laphisto

A moment of respite as Laphisto retreated, relieving Kryos of the crushing pressure brought down by the large Draconian and his blade. But the world around them shifted chaotically as both men displayed their skilled command of the Force. The Dark Jedi could barely see his opponent through the swirling dust and debris, further stirred by the flapping leathery wings. But he never felt more alive.

He continued to draw the large stone toward them when he felt Laphisto’s pull. It was not just him; the entire wall was coming with him. Rather than resist, Kryos used the momentum to rise to his feet and lunge, having no choice but to embrace the pain in his knee as he stood. He let his original projectile from the left fall short, now focusing on the duracrete and stone at his back.

Propelled by fury and bloodlust, Kryos raged forward into the powerful Force pull, leading the way with the tip of his crimson blade. He joined Laphisto’s efforts to bring the chunks of the building with him, unconcerned with his own welfare, instead singularly focused on taking down his opponent in any way possible, even if it meant the wall crushed both men in the onslaught.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Scherezade deWinter
​

Judah had no name recognition for Miss deWinter, but the galaxy was full of wealthy sentients tucked away in their own corner of the galaxy. The only time some got out was for weddings and funerals. Miss deWinter could very be well one of those people. Either way, she was quite extraverted, already asking where she could get a decent meal.

Was this some insane way of asking him out? Or was she hungry? Or, as she mentioned, completely bored out of her mind at the proceedings of the funeral. Either way, he wouldn't have many answers.

"I'm not from here, haven't got a clue." A small pause a quirk of his mouth. "Not enjoying the free funeral spread?"

 

[Pal Veda]

IMPLIED ODDS
Location: Voss-Ka
Objective: Get to the choppa!
Opposition: NONE!

“Well, let’s go!”

The Zabrak looked at his comrade expressing uncertainty. Benjen nodded. “Okay. Follow me.” Toman began the descent back to the first floor with Veda and Benjen on his tail. Veda couldn’t help but notice the mystics were awfully stealthy, sneaking down the stairs with ease. Shouldn’t be a surprise that the religious zealots knew how to move in secret. At the bottom of the stairwell all three men came to a stop.

Veda spoke in a hushed voice. “There are Black Sun thugs on patrol down here. How do we get to the wine cellar?”

“There is a small door on the left at the end of the main chamber,” Benjen replied. “It is a servants’ entrance. There is another set of stairs inside that leads to the cellar.”

“We need to be very quick and very quiet,” Veda stated the obvious. “Stay close to my six. If I start shootin’, you keep runnin’.” He took the lead and began his sprint across. The Star Grinder boots from Rara Gowisi ’s shop didn’t make a peep as he ran along the hard stone floor. But they didn’t do a thing to protect against a random henchman coming in on his assigned patrol.

Pew! Pew! It didn’t take long for the first blasts to sound out, but they were wild and untrained. “Go!” Veda yelled, but coming to a stop himself to line up his shot. Pew! Pew! Now, you know our fearless hero hit his mark with both bolts. The first was absorbed into the goon’s heavy chest plate, but the second was absorbed by his face. Satisfied with the result, Veda took off to join the two mystics through the old wooden door. Once inside, he slammed it shut and bolted it.

“Well, that’s done,” he joked, a bit out of breath. “Now what?”

“Here.” This time Benjen showed the way rounding two corners to another short set of winding stairs. This opened into a large room with racks and racks . . . and racks of wine.

Veda looked around, amazed. “You boys like to party, huh?” They didn’t take the joke well. Instead, they moved hastily between the rows and stopped at a dusty rug. One on each end, they carefully lifted it and sat it aside, revealing a trapdoor beneath. Together, they pulled the durasteel chain and opened the entrance to the tunnel. They hopped inside. Veda climbed down last, grabbing a bottle of red on his way.

“It’s pitch black,” he declared, trying to see anything in the darkness after they closed the hatch.

“Do not worry,” Benjen called, “We have the route memorized.”

“Well I don’t.” Veda reluctantly dropped the bottle and retrieved his flashlight. “Much better.” He showed the light ahead and followed the clerics.

It was impossible to tell how far they walked in the tunnel before popping up in a small bakery on the east side of town. Once out, they hid the exit again. “Someone has already come this way,” Toman noted, looking around the room.

Benjen nodded in agreement. “Let us pray they found a safe escape.”

They stepped into the street and started down the cobblestone road, trying to dodge anything with a gun or a laser sword. Then all hell broke loose. A giant boulder came hurling by, flying toward what looked like a Sith and a . . . A kriffin’ dragon!? Kryos and Laphisto had their sabers locked before the Draconian leaped back. The side of the building started crumbling apart, then the man in black came flying toward the armored Jedi devil with the wall of duracrete and stone.

Veda could have watched this all day, but he’d have to wait until later to find out how it ended. Benjen and Toman had located the two mystics that beat them here, cowering in a corner away from the epic battle. “Tell your boys to come on,” Veda commanded, “My ship ain’t far.”

He led them out of the city to where the Rubicon was safely grounded. “All aboard!” The group ascended the landing ramp and strapped in, with Veda heading to the cockpit. Flip! Flip! Vrrrrrroooooooom! The YT-2400’s engines fired to life with a lovely roar. “Say goodbye to Voss-Ka.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how the Legendary Pal Veda once again accomplished the most heroic of feats, saving four valuable seers from the clutches of the evil Sith and the dirty Black Sun.

 

[Mercy]

Kito | Lysander von Ascania

Mercy was about to tear the throat out of the second guard but someone intervened.

Someone far more interesting than a building full of corpses who didn't know yet they were dead. Mercy glanced towards Lysander and jerked with her head to the building.

"Continue the mission. I will handle this one." She stepped forward... stamping hard and crunching through the skull of the guard she had just killed. More a statement piece than necessity.

Lysander would handle making sure the corporation was dismantled. The snake's head cut off with her Graspborn's assistance. That only left this... interesting Jedi to handle.

"Mm, oh, darling... what use is power if you don't get to crush the weak under your heel?" Mercy murmured warmly, but there was a heat ripping through her eyes at being called a coward. Few, if any, ever would use that sort of word on her. Brash, arrogant, cruel, unthinking... but cowardly? No, Mercy was not accustomed to that.

"You prattle on a lot. If you want to die, come for your death then, I am right here."

Extending her arms, as if to hug Kito, except with a frame like that it was more liable to crush her.

 

[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

---

He wasn't a local, so he didn't know. Well that was disappointing. Not the not-being-a-local thing, but the not knowing. She didn't know either.

When he asked about the free funeral spread, she chuckled.

"Never trust these things," the Sithling explained, "usually the funeral homes are the ones in charge of the catering. And they have their own wallets to think of. Food's more likely to include slow working poisons that won't directly kill you but may take a year or two off your lifespan per every few bites."

Did she sound like a lunatic? Perhaps. But, "I speak from experience, I used to administrator it," she smiled innocently and gave a shrug. She was young. She needed credits. She didn't care.

"Do you think they'll get on with the burying him thing soon so we can all just leave without potentially causing diplomatic incidents?" she asked him, her glowing green eyes sparkling with curiosity. Usually, well-behaved people didn't approach her. Whatever this man's intentions were, she really hoped they weren't well-behaved in a way that would let this entire event continue as it had so far.

"I'm close to picking that casket up and tossing it into the ground myself."

 

[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

She was quick, more lithe than he, but her inexperience showed through in subtle ways and mild miss-steps. The armor she wore appeared new and was annoyingly protective. If he had any kind of backup, Naami might be able to more easily assess it for weakness but as it was, he'd need to test for cracks firsthand.

Her move to press for more room, to keep him at bay worked to buy her mere moments. The big zabrak reassessed and pressed forward to give her little time for readjustment. The surprised, almost peppy words of his opponent made him scowl. Naamino disliked the dawning realization that his opponent was green indeed.

Ignoring the doubt trying to creep past his resolve, Naami traded a few testing blows with her then suddenly lunged low— adjusting the length of his saber blade in a burst, seeking to jab at her ribcage. In truth he was aiming to test a common weak spot beneath the armpit and just above the left side of her ribs, taking a guess that it might be her off-hand. He finished the move with a snarl and Force push, again trying to bowl her over but this time with metaphysical strength.

Meanwhile, the doppelgänger wasted no time in moving to defend the crumpled Mystics. It would be the double's last act, as he stepped seamlessly into the movements of Soresu and made to cut down the micro missiles with Woe. That damage caused them to explode and the doppelgänger dissipated. The lightsaber dropped, still activated, to hum ominously a few yards from those it had just been used to defend.

All the better, perhaps. Naami needed the excess energy he'd been burning to keep the double active and surely Darth Strosius could manage for the thirty or so seconds it might take him to wrap this up.

 

[Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory]

With the discussion in regards to the possible future seemingly having reached a grinding halt, Amalia calmly and politely nodded to the Mandolorian representative Siv Kryze and the Black Sun leader Velzari Tharn , excusing herself in order to walk back towards Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen where she found him in a conversation with a woman whose entire profile seemed to exude elegance and style in a rather quirky fashion.

"My my, Lord commander," Whipping out a rather broad, yet somewhat unfeeling smile, the Governor of Corvus appeared right from behind the Supreme Commander's back, gently placing a hand on the man's shoulder for an instant before giving a couteous nod towards Dominique Vexx . "It looks like you are having quite the interesting conversation. My apologies miss...uhm..."

Tilting her head a bit to the side, Amalia turned her attention towards the Lord commander for a moment, hoping he'd at least chime in to give her the name of his conversation partner, before snapping back towards miss Vexx with a sharp smile on her face. "Amalia Visconti, Governor of Corvus and incidentally also Chief Executive Officer of the N&Z Umbrella corp."

With those words, the Governor of Corvus hoped to make it quite clear that the Imperial Confederation wasn't a newborn pup in terms of business nor the very partners it had in said world dominated by profits and deals. After all, the only companies even remotely in the same league as the N&Z were just as much feared as they were revered, from The Trade Federation to the IGBC, not many could claim their very actions could effectively sink entire systems if not entire sectors into ruination or elevate them into stardom with but a single signature.​

Marlon Sularen | Dominique Vexx | Velzari Tharn | Siv Kryze | @open

 

[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 onslaught ensued, the cacophony of hums filling the air with a foreboding sense of dread--and danger. Whilst the Sith and the armoured man battled it out in their own manners, the lightsabers of the apprentices crashed over and over again. One, two, three. The Padawan counted, as she timed her strikes in accordance with his assault, drawing forth the knowledge from the training holocrons. Resilience, patience, it would all win the fight, rather than an impatient offensive. Isobel moved her lightsaber again, one of the pink blades colliding with the purple.

Her mind was drawn elsewhere, to the lectures from Jedi Masters, to the tenets of the Order, and to the cloud of worry still dominating the back of her mind--coming forth from the obscure message Lysander von Ascania had sent earlier. Why? Became the dominant question; why her? Why was he in danger? Why? The thoughts forced her on a disadvantage, struggling to maintain a proper shield against the ever-growing force behind the Acolyte's strikes. There were no playful jabs, no charming words that left her, there was no time--no opportunity.

The peril worsened, glimpses of a future burdening her vision, as she tried her best to withstand the rhythm. The feinting strike left her off guard and just as she twirled the saberstaff right around, did she feel a burning ache near her ribs as the purple-bladed lightsaber pierced her bodyglove. A breathless gasp left her, as she tried to spare a moment to look upon the blade in her side, before being thrown far away from the fight. And from the Voss Mystics she so tried to defend. The moment she hit the soil, her weapon's blades retracted, and she was left defenseless.

Isobel did not try to look upon the masked acolyte in the distance, instead moving her hand to her wound and trying to recall the lesson Master Nytrau had given her. . .

Calm, focus on the Force. . .

Focus. . .

Focus.

The burn was slowly starting to cool, the pain dulling… until the shock surged up once more. Her vision a blur as the slumber took her. "Lys. . ." The words died on her lips.

​

 

[Kito]

//: Mercy //:

Crush the weak under your heel…

Kito let the word sink in as the sound of bone shattered under the Sith's boot. She heard everything, the sound of the man's organ and bone squish as if it was nothing but filth in her way. Her grip tightened on the hilt of the odachi. There was something damned about the woman. Her confidence bled through the Force, the darkness thickening around the Jedi.

For a moment, Kito hesitated. She was alone — there was no one behind her to come save her if this went south. But she was used to being alone; this shouldn't matter.

Yet there was more, something more beyond her silly revenge.

Their conversation was over. Kito had nothing more to say to the woman. Her words continued to beat on the Shaper's ears, but beyond her was silence. This was going to be the last time this Sith breathed. Kito would end it quickly…

With a mercy the Sith didn't deserve.

The girl exhaled, and flame licked at the air as her focus and resolve centered her. Mercy held her arms out, stretching as if to hug Kito. She was so sure of herself, so positive that she could catch the Jedi. It was time to wipe the smug smirk off her face.

Her hip and foot twisted, facing forward towards the Sith. In the blink of an eye, the Force surged through her, launching her forward like a lightning strike. As she drew closer, the weight of the blessed odachi lightened, and Kito swung it from shoulder to hip with as much precision as possible.

With the strike, the almost white flame flickered along the steel; not only did the blade aim to cut, it aimed to burn.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Scherezade deWinter
​

Staring at the woman, Judah wasn't sure if she was joking or not. An enterprising funeral home could poison the patrons in attendance to drum up business. An interesting concept but one he suspected not at this event. Too many of them were offworlders. Either way she was correct in one way, the spread wouldn't be top quality, poison or nor poison.

Eyebrow arced when she mentioned tossing the casket into the ground herself. One,they were comfortably indoors. Two,caskets were heavy, what was she going to do, carry it outside herself. Three, it didn't seem as if that would let anyone leave in a diplomatic fashion. In fact it would create the opposite effect and sow chaos. Or...maybe not. The focus was on the dead old man's credits, not so much the funeral itself. Not as if there was family in attendance but there could be a friend of the deceased.

"I can't stop you. Might be less trouble to slip out quietly but,uh, we call have to make our own decisions."