Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Call Me Little Sunshine [Dominique Vexx]


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The sleek, hawk-like shuttle came to a gentle rest on the gilded landing platform. Pressurized air hissed as the boarding ramp languidly descended to touch the ground, red light spilling out from the cabin interior. Four ceremonial guards in gleaming black armor over ribbed padding emerged from amidst the sanguine light, trudging down the ramp in two parallel columns. When they reached the bottom, they divided to flank both sides and stood to rigid attention.
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Darth Carnifex, resplendent in dark maroon and crimson robes, followed shortly thereafter. He wore no battle armor nor the trappings of any office, but nonetheless carried Himself with deadly regality. His towering presence eclipsed even that of His guards, who He stood more than a full head taller. Chasing after Him at a brisk, but measured, pace was a woman of little distinction other than her rich crimson officer's uniform; freshly pressed and meticulously groomed. In her hands she carried a datapad and stylus, while a set of minimalist but still fashionable half-rim glasses sat perched upon the brim of her nose.

The Dark Lord led the way, while the secretary and the four guards fell in line with His shadow. Awaiting them was a small detachment of cleanly dressed Ghorman, some of who wore badges depicting various Sith iconography and symbolism. They gushed with meaningless platitudes as the Dark Lord approached, professing about what a great honor it was that a being of His magnificence had blessed their world with His grace. Carnifex cared little for such naked fawning, leeches and sycophants that they were. There would always be endless worms to take their place, and so Carnifex barely even acknowledged them as He passed them by.

True to their nature, the Ghorman followed meekly behind all the same. The Ghorman city of Palmos opened up before the Dark Lord, the rich history woven in the winding and crowded streets below. Across from the landing platform was Palmos' main civic center, where the local government held offices and meeting chambers. It would be in one of these that the Dark Lord met with the leader of a foreign nation, one that was just as much spiritually opposed to the Sith Empire as it was politically.

Dominique Vexx, Chancellor of the High Republic.

Just a half standard month ago, representatives of the High Republic and Jedi Order had been ambushed on Moorja by the Sith. Many had been killed, many more had gone missing entirely. Those that escaped did so at great cost, and in their flight the world of Moorja was swallowed up by the Blackwall. Since then, the Sith had made neither declaration or demand regarding the incident on Moorja. Any inquiry from the Republic had gone unanswered as well, the Sith silent behind their impenetrable Blackwall.

That all changed when a message was received from the secretariat of Darth Carnifex, requesting a personal audience with the Chancellor on a neutral system. A stipulation of the meeting, offered up by the Sith Lord, was that He would only bring a small handful of personal guards and His own secretary, while the Chancellor could bring any amount of personnel she deemed necessary; including Jedi. The message also stated its intent in clear black and white, to open a direct dialogue with the Republic regarding the incident on Moorja.

The message also made it clear that Carnifex would meet with no one else besides the Chancellor, and that a second offering of mediation would not be forthwith if this current offer was spurned. When the Dark Lord received the Chancellor's reply, He provided the world of Ghorman to act as their meeting ground and made all preparation to travel there. He was the first to arrive, setting into the assigned meeting space with His guards and secretary. It would not be long before Chancellor Vexx arrived with her staff, and they could finally meet face to face.

Sith and Republic.

Dark and Light.


 
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Three armored transports dropped into the atmosphere of Ghorman from Venator Cruiser Mark III capital ship. The opportunity was enticing, but the High Republic Strategic Command wasn't about to let their Chancellor get herself killed. Every reasonable effort was made to obfuscate when and where their ship would arrive, how many there would be, and on which one the High Chancellor occupied in transit. Regional resources had even been used to survey the area before time for signs of a snare.

To say the High Republic had a lack of trust would be a generous assessment. After the events on Moorja and its aftermath, expectations for peaceful coexistence with the Sith were at an all-time low. The Core Sanctions and Access Denial Act could very easily become amendment to include the Sith Order itself given sufficient time; and even if it wasn't, enough leeway was inherent to it that it could be leveraged as-is.

Nevertheless, despite the very vocal opposition to her accepting the offer, Dominique accepted Darth Carnifex's 'limited-time offer.' She did, however, insist as to the timing with various excuses made. Not all of them were untrue either. Convincing her own security to relent had taken time. However, if Carnifex were genuine in his desire to meet, it was only reasonable that he not expect the High Republic to act in haste; he had already insisted on them making a very sudden, very crucial decision in accepting the offer at all. A little delay would go a long way showing his sincerity.

At last, the transport carrying the Chancellor touched down on a landing pad apart from where Darth Carnifex had disembarked. One of the escorts peeled off to deposit a few special forces personnel elsewhere before the ship took up a patrol around the area. Meanwhile, the other escort would monitor the Chancellor's movements until she reached the main civic center of Palmos.

Four commandos in white armor and two assistants accompanied the High Chancellor in her brief stroll toward the building. Her own, pristine white uniform was no made of unyielding plates of armor, but appeared to be that of a Naval Commander best suited for the bridge of a starship. Stiffer shoulder pads with a splash of purple gave contrast and life to the otherwise military-inspired outfit. She was a politician, but not one shackled to their desk eager to issue sternly worded letters of rebuke.

At long last, the doors to the meeting chamber would opened and Dominique strode through them at an even gait. Her golden eyes were concealed behind opaque lilac glareshades, and unlike most meetings of this nature she did not wear a lofty smile born of expectation. She stopped just far enough inside the room -- barring obvious signs of betrayal -- for the doors to close behind her and those that had accompanied her.

"Dark Lord."


 

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"Chancellor," the Dark Lord's sultry bass reverberated around the chamber, vibrating deep down to bone. He was still standing when she entered the room, so He had no need to rise to greet her. Rather, He made a simple gesture of inclining His upper body in her direction. The disparity between the two was evident even at a glance, the Dark Lord standing two feet taller than Dominique, and His complimentary maroon and red robes contrasting her bright white and rich purple uniform.

He gestured idly to the table, with a place reserved for Himself at one end and her at the other. Other seats had been supplied for those that the Chancellor brought with her, Carnifex's secretary sitting next to His own seat. She'd placed her datapad on the table, reconfigured to enable rapid typing. Even now, she transcribed every word spoken and every physical action taken. The four guards stood at attention on the wall at Carnifex's back, their faceless masks forming a wall of silent scrutiny.

"Sit and make yourself comfortable, Chancellor." Taking His own advice, the Dark Lord slipped into His seat. Steepling His hands on the table, the Dark Lord fixed Dominique with an icy stare; the innate thrum of the Dark Side filling the room with a bone-biting frigidity. "It pleases me that you have accepted my offer to meet, there were some among my colleagues who did not believe you would take the chance. It will no doubt vex them to see their confident assertions proven incorrect."

Darth Carnifex slowly interlocked the fingers of each hand, resting them flat against the table after a moment's pause. "I assume you have many questions, Chancellor. As a show of good faith, I will answer any query you pose me, and I will do so without falsehood." The way in which the Dark Lord bared His teeth in a poor imitation of a smile gave little confidence that His words were sincere, but there was little else to do but accept some measure of His words as truth.

Time would tell if that was wise.


 

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The Chancellor stood at the threshold for a second longer before she turned to stroll to the other end of the table prepared for their encounter. After she pulled the chair out and settled into it, the two aides took a seat on either side with the troopers behind. It was then that Carnifex and Dominique took the opportunity to gaze into the other's eyes.

And to instill an atmosphere appropriate for the moment. Dominique extended her right hand forward and lay her forearm upon the table with the left crossed before her. Both were freely shown, and while the shoulder pads presented a square pose the position of her arms was meant to express a certain ease otherwise not visible. Perhaps a Dark Lord could simply know what one felt, but Dominique didn't care what a Force User thought they knew. Far as she was concerned, the galaxy still ran on optics and haptics -- what people could see, hear, and touch.

As to the matter of Carnifex's colleagues, they were smarter than people gave them credit. Rationally she shouldn't be there. It was beyond risky. The value was questionable. The outcome hazy at best. But that worked both ways.

There was a second's pause after the man's invitation. Any query, was it? How would he like if she asked how to bring down the Blackwall in its entirety? Or, perhaps, the size and disposition of the Sith Order's fleet? No. Carnifex might even answer, but who could tell if a word of it would be true?

"Did the Sith Order knowingly, willfully, or deliberately coax, manipulate, or command the government of Moorja to draw the High Republic into a trap, and to what end?" Simple query. Even timely. One that Dominique could weigh whether the man's response held so much as a kernel of truth to it.


 

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"A potent query, Chancellor."

The Dark Lord's smile diminished somewhat, though the sharp glint of His teeth could still be seen behind His lightly parted lips. "It will come as no surprise to you that the Sith Empire has been in contact with every known neutral systems beyond the margins of the Blackwall. On every world, and in every planetary government, we have found men and women more than willing to listen. Moorja was no different. A clique of officials and military officers were eager to throw all of Moorja in line with the Sith Empire. Another faction was not so eager, they still held admirable but ultimately outdated notions of loyalty to an idea of justice and morality that has since gone extinct in the galaxy."

"Unable to stomach their compatriot's lack of vision, this clique decided to take matters into their own hands. The coup was neither silent nor bloodless, but nonetheless effective. We were contacted soon after, and eager to prove their fidelity to the Sith, they orchestrated to invite the Republic under false pretenses." The Dark Lord spread His hands in an almost conciliatory gesture, "What happened is well known. Many dead, many captured, many unknown."

"The Sith Empire did not instigate Moorja, but it did take advantage of an offered opportunity. The Moorjans wanted to prove how far they were willing to go, who were we to deny them their tribute?" It was said so matter of factly, as if the Moorjan's decision didn't lead to dozens and dozens of dead butchered in a horrendous ambush. The Dark Lord's delivery didn't help either, He seemed utterly disinterested in the facts of the whole affair. It didn't help that He was there as well, and had taken a direct hand in the killing.

"Moorja will most likely not be the last either, Chancellor. Blood's in the water." He laughed, short and cruel, but not necessarily mocking. "Might I introduce you to someone, Chancellor? A representative of a government newly reorganized."


 

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