Fixing Old Grudges

[James Justice]

The Arch Prince of Theta may have made a bargain to stay away from Soceras, but honestly that was more of a matter of perspective. The details had been signed and delivered. His lawyers had written the document with the most precise care, all of which had been tended to at the hands of [member="Lady Kay"] before her fall. A teneous peace had fallen between the two long waring planets in the system.

For ages the Cyborgs of Theta had been aligned with Bankor before [member="Thraxis"] and James Justice had taken the communistic city over and controlled it from behind the scenes, they had no reason now to abide by the existence of this pathetic wasteland controlled by a criminal king. He was a lord of Vice, and to a society built on high morality under penalty of death, his very existance as a neighbor had been enough to desire a war. The peace treaty had been put in place just in time. For a year what had been dubbed "The Second Watchful Peace" had reigned on the Soceras System.

Dal'Bor had been purged of many vices; prostitution, slavery, and bodmod chopshops had been eradicated. For the first time in over 300 years a real uncorrupted police force roamed the streets. Extreme forms of spice with horrible side effects had been outlawed like deathsticks and glitterstim. Minor spice had begun to be regulated and produced, employing masses that would have otherwise been unemployed. Judicial systems that actually worked were placed in the city, and while its virulent lifestyle was still at large, an economy outside of the gambling, drugs, alcohol, hedonism, and 24 hour night life was beginning to blossom.

Bankor, a city that for time out of mind had been micromanaged for 100% efficiency was slowly beginning to be deregulated. Slowly, piece by piece a home was being made out of the harsh city that had forbidden anything sentimental or anything pleasurable. Their massive productivity had not diminished--in truth the changes seemed to be invigorating the people to new heights as the people found reasons to exist other than the dull day to day needs.

Joy never lasts and peace was made to be broken.

As the clocks across Dal'Bor began to strike 12:45, families were finishing their lunchbreaks. Some were crossing streets, some were finishing their dates with their loved ones. Children were playing ball across the yard. The Blue Sun of Soceras suddenly grew dark as a trio of massive capital ship appeared over the city. Everyone stood in awe, watching as they materialized from their stealth mode. Their king, after all, had a tendency to make grand entrances with his ships, these however were unlike any they had ever seen before.

A voice cut into the city, broadcasting over every channel, ever speaker, every phone, every device.

"Dal'Bor. Your time of cleansing has begun."​

​

Spoiler

[member="Stardust Raxis"]
@Sarge
[member="Brooklyn Justice"]
[member="Celiana"]
[member="Ryn'Dhal"]
[member="Matthew Justice"]
@Triam Avokin
[member="Cadan Tazi"]
We are starting what is going to be a faction event of a war here, have fun and participation will be rewarded!

 

[Thraxis]

A blackened hull floated in the distance, the light of sun's distant thought they may be illuminated the otherwise invisible ship that drifted in the void of Space. Long words trailed across the side, a poor paint job of black and blue and an overall unimpressive ship though it may have been, still had a few doohickeys from a past encounter. Specifically, pots and pans, shiny reflective and oh so chaotic they were. Sat at the crown of the ship, a digit clicking against his comlink, an overall irritating manner as for every click it darted on, a breath, then it switched off again. This monotonous nuisance ringing in any of the 'allies' Justice had brought along with him for his second conquering of Theta.

Then came a noise, though broken from the constatn switchings of on and off the words muttered a few times finally became clear. "Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored." an uncharacteristic tune from the man with what could aptly be described as gravel grinding against sandpaper. It continued anyone, telling him to shut it were quickly greeted with a second of respite. Before he clicked his comlink back on and continued, simply ignoring any attempts to silence him as he watcehd the men of the ship dart about. Grabbing their gear, making perperations, parachutes, pots, pans. Really anything they could do to take their mind off the ever lengthened boredom that had seemed to plague the ship.

With a kick and a spin his Captain's chair spun rapidly, where most would have swivel chairs or a throne for those who felt like stroking their ego instead of a more physical extension of themselves, Thraxis had grown quite fond of the Ceiling chair, the way it turned, how it hung loosely on but a single thread helped it complete drain tension from a situation no matter how dire it may be. His head fell backward a sharp cry echoing through the comlinks as he spoke again. "BORED, BORED, BORED!" the sharp cry turned his monotone voice into a booming echo that ran throughout all the coms, possibly disarming those who were not ready for such an action.
[member="James Justice"]

 

[Shak'Lzko'Loris]

Shak ran through the forest at lighting speed. He'd been caught by some cops for having spice with intent to sell. Blood coursed through his veins as he paraded through the forest. The H'Drachi had spent many years on other planets thriving with his business, but times had changed. After a busted deal with some Weequays, Shak was forced to leave Tatooine and start a new life. Trying various things such as sculpting, owning a bar, and being a mechanic, his bad boy persona kept him out of a job. Months past and still he had no work. Living out of a dirt hovel, Shak decided he needed to get back into the spice business. Of course the only question was how, he had a bounty on his head and he didn't want to be seen. On one fateful day he spotted a gang out in the distance. He pulled out his old rifle and blasted the backing Weequay. He stole the spices and began to sell them as his own in secret. (sorry that was sort of a flash back, now to the current story). Shak continued to run, spotting the ship of [member="Thraxis"] . He flipped on the commlink on his wrist armor and called to Thraxis.

"Greeting ship, is there any chance that I can hitch a ride?"