Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The air above Seoul shimmered with color.

From the promenades of the Gwanheung Cultural Plaza to the highest balconies of the towers illuminating the night in an array of colors and spotlights reached through to the heavens, every eye tilted skyward as the last of the daylight faded into velvet night. A hush rippled through the crowds millions strong, packed shoulder-to-shoulder along the shining avenues and riverbanks, until the only sounds were the soft flutter of festival banners and the distant hum of repulsorlift barges hovering in precise formation.

Then, as if the stars themselves had taken a collective breath, the lights came alive.

A sweep of silver fire cut across the firmament, followed by a cascade of floating light petals, programmable drones, each glowing with a different hue—drifting down through the night air in spiraling arcs. They gathered above the main stage, weaving together into a three-dimensional tapestry: the Commonwealth sigil, rendered in living light, then blooming into a field of golden chrysanthemums that slowly turned to face the crowd.

From the stage, a gayageum sang the first delicate notes of Arirang. The sound was raw and unamplified at first, carried on the open air like something ancient and fragile. Then the plaza's sound lattice caught it, folded it with harmonics from a hundred instruments, janggu drums, haegeum strings, even the soft call of a synthesized daegeum, until the song swelled into a tide that seemed to wrap itself around the city's towers.

Holo-casters drifted through the air, their projectors spinning elaborate illusions across the night: tigers leaping from one high-rise to another in glowing trails of stardust, magpies sweeping overhead in flocks that broke apart into constellations. Children reached upward to "catch" the drifting images, their laughter weaving into the music.

Above, the Commonwealth, ceremonial squadron broke atmosphere in a slow, elegant flyover, their running lights synchronized to the beat of the drums. They left no sonic booms—only luminous contrails that curled into the shapes of cranes before dissolving into the evening haze.

And while every Holonet channel flooded with this spectacle, broadcasting every note, every shimmer, every smiling face, another world in the Commonwealth turned its gaze inward. As the instruments played to a quiet reverance..

The stage opens in darkness under Seoul's night sky. A lone virtuoso plucks the gayageum with shimmering precision, its melodies carried across the plaza through the crystalline night air. Slowly, the holographic terrain unfolds: rolling lunar hills, glistening star-cherry blossoms, and faint silhouettes of ancient ancestral peaks—each forming a spiritual bridge between tradition and the stars. Then, as if summoned by the notes, military drummers and piri wind instrumentalists join, weaving a richer soundscape. A soft pulse—like a heartbeat—begins echoing from speakers around the arena.

At the beat drop, the stage bursts into kinetic life. Seoularian Pop Idols dressed in dazzling hanbok fusion costumes emerge, each movement choreographed like constellations aligning. They are joined via holo as large screens lit up around the plaza, by various ensembles who are performing throughout the Commonwealth on various member worlds such as Dosuun, Najarka, Varada V, Dyspeth, Needan, et al. Across the Commonwealth everyone sang in their best Seoularian dancing right along side each other. Right in the plaza the energy is incredible, as various Seoularian Pop Idols join the main group on the stage singing the upbeat variant of Arirang.

Meanwhile on Ryoone, the clang of dismantled durasteel and the crack of shattering marble echoed in the absence of music. There, the night was lit not by festival lanterns but by the cold glare of work lights as Sith banners were pulled down and fed into industrial shredders.


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Objective 1
Objective 2
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A Commonwealth-spanning cultural celebration featuring S-Pop legends and rising stars.

Opening Ceremony: The Queen of Seoul, Her Majesty Kim Areum and Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro take the stage together in a rare joint appearance.

Feature Event: Arirang Across the Stars, live-linked performance across multiple Commonwealth worlds.

Holonet commentators note Ivalyn's deep ties to Seoul, once her home as a journalist.

Crowd energy is high, sponsor pavilions overflow with Commonwealth soda companies Solara and Nova-Fizz branding.

Midway through the night, breaking holonet news: Task Force Valiant returns from the Stygian Caldera.
While the holonet is consumed by festival coverage, Commonwealth forces quietly execute Operation Orange Colored Sky.

Objective: Eradicate all traces of Sith ideology and propaganda — art, temples, literature, and political footholds.

Method:

Lock down local holonet channels, saturate with Seoulight Spectrum broadcasts.

Remove and destroy Sith iconography; seize archives and artifacts.

Install Commonwealth-approved cultural works and civic structures in their place.

Detain or reassign Sith-aligned officials and community leaders.

This is not a public event — it's surgical, quiet, but total.
Hooks for Writers:

Be a festival-goer soaking in the music, food, and spectacle.

Perform on stage as part of the festival lineup.

Work security or logistics for the event.

Be part of the holonet broadcast team.

React to the sudden Task Force Valiant homecoming.
Hook for Writers:

Be part of the Commonwealth forces carrying out the purge.

Play local resistance or a collaborator caught in the sweep.

Smuggle valuable Sith relics off-world before they're destroyed.

Work as a cultural officer overseeing the replacement of public art and monuments.

Handle political clean-up or intel gathering.

Objectives are happening at the same time.

Feel free to interconnect — e.g., characters in Objective 2 could be watching festival coverage as background to their mission.

Tone: Objective 1 is public and bright but can shift to poignant; Objective 2 is covert, tense, and methodical.

Below is a reference to the upbeat-pop version of Arirang being performed by a 'Commonwealth' equivalent of BTS.

We welcome our friends in the Holy Worlds + Sith Allies of the Commonwealth to join us in celebration of Seoularian Pop Music!


Tags: Davorin Orsava Davorin Orsava | Domar Domar | Kurayami Bloodborn Kurayami Bloodborn | Merryn Sellek Merryn Sellek
 
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Lysander had been lingering around the plaza more than usual this past day, having just arrived from Brosi, where Imperial usurpation attempts were vanquished. Tonight, he was dressed modestly: a navy blue tunic cut from lavish fabric caught the lighting from above, paired with black leggings and leather boots that clung perfectly to his lithe frame. He continued navigating through the crowds with ease.

The area was thick with throngs of people, teeming with life, shoulder to shoulder in some places, but there was no denying the energy pulsing beneath banners dancing in the breeze. Lysander paused, letting the voices wash over him. Gradually, he lifted his gaze to the stages, where performers moved with fluidity under the spotlights; the choreography appeared flawless, a form of art he'd never witnessed until now. A trace of admiration crossed his youthful features as he sipped from a Nova-Fizz in one hand and bit into a skewer of smoky meat with the other.

When he twisted his torso to glance toward another area, an ache bloomed through his being; this soreness was different from what one might feel after gym lifts, the weight instead born from the rhythm of battle. Carrying both armor and a massive flamethrower had taken more of a toll than he anticipated. His muscles groaned with every movement.

However, beneath that lingering fatigue, his mind remained sharp as a blade, scanning the sea of faces for a target, for another bounty to chase, credits to earn. It was the pursuit, the constant quest, that kept him moving, kept him from sinking completely into boredom. Hunting in a place so full of joy was strange; it almost made him wonder if he were out of place, as if this world was removed from the violence he'd grown accustomed to back on Korriban.

But despite everything, he found himself oddly at ease here. Laughter, glowing banners, music.. all of it softened the edges of recent memories, most of which weren't entirely pleasant.

Taking the final bite from his skewer, he began to move further away from the crowd.

For once, there was no buzzing of his datapad, his mind clear of any distractions, fully present in the moment.

A small child bumped into him, giggling as she handed over a light petal. Lysander's facade softened; he blinked slowly, unsure what to do with the gift. Then, he returned her gesture with a rare, warm smile.

It was a moment of happiness in a life where darkness was always present.
 


Persephone wasn't an overly big S-Pop fan. Sure, she had listened to the music of Jang Keek thanks to Makai blasting it. Not to mention those summer hits that often found their way on ZikZok across the galaxy. Yet to actually attend a S-Pop concert? Never crossed her mind.

Yet she decided to come, hitching a ride with Judah who was in the Commonwealth for business. At one time, when she was younger, this would have been an effort to show off on the HoloNet and chase clout. Now it was more an exercise on being allowed to go to an event deemed socially acceptable by her parents. For all her dreaming as an extremely poor underworld urchin about being wealthy she had never expected the rules and trappings that went along with it. Little did she know being a Dashiell meant being scrutinized and maintaining a certain image. Not to mention the fact she was getting older and that came with a whole host of its own issues.

Persephone Dashiell was not going to be one splashed on the entertainment section of the latest gossip columns for all the wrong reasons.

Navigating her way through the S-Pop Festival, she paused to adjust her outfit in the reflection of a glass pane, finding her red cropped sweater and black jeans combo teenage-y enough without looking put together. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Persie was finally pleased with her look and she advanced towards the VIP area.

Presenting her wrist band, she was scanned into the area cordoned off from the rest of the festival. Grabbing a bottle of water out of ice as she entered, Persie looked around the area. Full of rich teenagers, middle aged businesswomen trying to recapture their youth, and bored looking girl dads who were forced to watch their young daughters for the day.

Taking a sip of water, it appeared the festival was in-between sets and the next act was set to take the stage.




 
Objective 2

Location: Ryoone

While it was true he had arrived a bit later than planned, Kurayami wanted to make sure that everything onboard the 'Olys Turhaya' was set up and ready. The Corellian dropped out of hyperspace well out of sensor range and continued finalizing the work he had started on the way over.

Thankfully the crew of S3R-V0 and R6-X3 had been working on keeping an encrypted signal open to Seoul, scrambling and bouncing the signal using available relays keeping it biried in standard datapackets that would arouse no suspicion. With the number of bounces and supposed origination sites, tracing it to a single ship sitting cloaked from sensors and view in orbit over a Sith world would have taken long enough that the festival would be done and he'd be gone without a trace.

Meanwhile, he prepped the TIE/es assault shuttle for a landing. All the codes were up to date for landing and would register him as a archivist, preserving relics and other valuables as well as his astromech verifying that all vox pylons were indeed functioning correctly.

As R6 guided the ship on it's descent towards the designated landing pad near the museum and archives, Kurayami finished the final bits of the disguise. The X-86 armor shone with it's gunmetal and black sheen, the Commonwealth sigils carefully covered by a layer of bandorium infused paint. nothing would show beneath it. Armed with his modified TL-50 and lightsaber hanging at his left hip, he readied himself for the recovery efforts. If things went sideways he'd be ready, but he hoped beyond hope all would be smooth sailing today.
 
All around Kai there where throngs of people, bright LED lights flashing. Spotlights painting the heavens in bright neon colors. Music that felt undeniably catchy so much so he almost, no he did, in fact despise it. The young man kept his arms inward as to avoid being bumped by people but that didn't seem to work. Ugh. These songs were going to get stuck in his head weren't they?

The young man could not fathom what had possessed him to agree to this. He shot his cousin Iskendyr a pointed side-eye.

"Cousin," he began, his voice low and edged with suspicion, "why have you brought me here?"

Iskendyr, blond-haired, brown-eyed, and built like some holodrama Prince Charming, simply clasped his cousin's shoulder. "I had to drag you out of your self-imposed exile. You need to be around other people. You can't just hide away in your dreary little hovel like some hermit."

"Firstly,"
Kai replied dryly as the bass and synth of the music pulsed around them, "I live in Grandmother's villa. On a tropical world." He gave an exasperated sigh. "Secondly, I absolutely can hide away like a hermit. It is my Force-given right." His gaze swept the crowd with thinly veiled concern. "I do not find pleasure in being surrounded by so many-"

"Girls," Iskendyr supplied without missing a beat, steering Kai toward the VIP section. "Up there. All those lovely, Seoul Pop–obsessed women." He grinned. "You can't tell me none of them look cute to you."

Kai let out a long-suffering sigh. "…They… seem…" He rolled his wrist as if coaxing the right word into existence. "Cute." The word landed flat, deadpan. His hand dropped uselessly to his side, only to be bumped by an enthusiastic halmoni screaming for the young men on stage. He blinked at her in alarm. "I'm sorry, are they possessed? What is happening here? Is this a cult? This feels like a cult." His voice rose in concern. "Are you sure Lucy didn't put you up to this?"

Iskendyr laughed heartily. "I assure you, Lucy did not. Besides, if Lucy shows up, she's bringing Viers."

"Then I fear for every vendor here,"
Kai muttered. "Their wares will be ripe for Viers to steal." He brushed off his shoulder as if ridding it of the memory, only to be yanked forward by the arm, dragged by his overly brutish, dreamboat-looking cousin toward the VIP section. "Unhand me, you vile peasant!"

"Cousin, we're both noblemen, please,"
Iskendyr said with mock dignity, jabbing a finger in the air. "You'll thank me later."

"Yes-"
Kai huffed. "I!" Another beat. "Will thank you! For dragging me-" His words dissolved into a startled yelp as Iskendyr hauled him up the steps. "SLOW DOWN, YOU ABSOLUTE HEATHEN!"


Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell | Open to Interaction
 

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Arirang Across the Stars
TAG: Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania



Seoul was all noise, neon, and prancing pretty boys.

Skye hated it.

She hadn't crossed half the galaxy to be swallowed by bass lines and blinding strobes, but here she was, wading through a sea of bodies just to get to her payout. The credits were supposed to be waiting in a quiet cantina or a backroom; somewhere with shadows, not screaming fans. Instead, her contact had picked a concert like this was some kind of social event.

Her T-visor cut the chaos into sharp, manageable shapes, the HUD scrolling data in quiet defiance of the music's pounding beat. THe cybernetic patch over her right eye flared with each lifeform she scanned -- quick tags, species IDs, body heat maps -- all filed away without breaking her stride. Too many faces. Too many voices. Every sound and movement crawled over her skin like static.

And beneath the armor, her skin was pale, blood drained by the early creep of withdrawal. The cold sweat at her temple wasn't from the crowd's heat, but from the pills running low. She told herself it was fine. She'd made it this far. Just a few more minutes. Just the payout.

The bounty was worth it.

One hand brushed the weight of the encrypted credchip case hooked to her belt. Once it was full, she'd have enough to stockpile months of Force suppression pills. Months of quiet in her own head. Months of not feeling that pull. MOnths of blessed, sweet, silence.

That was worth pushing through the crush of strangers and the headache inducing glare.

That was peace of mind she couldn't go karking without.


 



Lysander's gaze drifted from crowd to crowd, slowly peeling himself further away. Soon, the continuous hum of laughter and music began to fade, no longer an annoyance to his heightened state.

The bounty he'd accepted for tonight was modest, mid-level at best. Compared to the smaller ones he'd taken recently, this was a modest climb, a step up the ladder, a taste of what was to come.

However, it showed in his gear; there was no armor or hunting tools.. just the bare essentials. It forced him to trust more on his own instincts over technology, going in with his eyes first tonight rather than being able to rely on scanners or trackers. He picked out details here and there, occasionally leaning on the Force, like a whisper at the edges of his consciousness, emotional undercurrents softly guiding him like a compass.

He took another step, drink lifted halfway to his lips, before feeling a tug at his awareness. It wasn't sight or sound, but this time presence, like a shadow at the edge of light, nestled within the festival's energy, flickering amid what should've been a sensory overload.

His target was a Rodian, a slight advantage, the teen mused, for the species distinctive features at least made it easier to identify.

At first, nothing stood out immediately, but then he angled his head towards one of the nearby vendors, suddenly catching a glimpse of a green snout and twitching antennae.

The second physical confirmation came into view: a tattoo, half hidden below the neckline, and already matching the description from his contact. The Rodian's shoulders were squared, tense, each movement calculated, almost nervous looking, like a spooked nuna.

Another ripple brushed against his senses, this time like an electric jolt.

A warning that his prey was aware of him.

From across the floor, their eyes locked. Unfortunately, muscle memory took over, and Lysander's hand flew up to his belt. That action alone was enough to give away his intentions, but he wouldn't hesitate. The Sith sprang after his target, something fierce igniting his blood.
 
Ivalyn hadn't initially planned on going to this event. It was among many cultural events that happened throughout the Dosuunian calendar year. Yet, she opted to go for two reasons. The first she could use it as a distraction to mask her real plans that were to happen on Ryoone. Secondly, she saw it as an opportunity to reaffirm Commonwealth culture. To reaffirm the unity between Seoul, Dosuun as a broader statement regarding the Commonwealth's unity as a nation. She also wasn't particularly comfortable wearing the hanbok, it was a Seoularian gown, traditional. She feared being seen as someone who was co-opting it. Queen Kim Areum reassured her it would not be the case, it was endorsed by the Royal House of Seoul.

The last note of the Arirang Medley still hung in the air, shimmering like starlight. Holo-confetti cascaded in spectral arcs across the stage, glowing in hues of silver and crimson, the colors of the Commonwealth. The roar of the crowd surged like a tidal wave, rolling out from the main stage across the city of Sejong and to billions of holoscreens across the Commonwealth.

As the lights dimmed, the music eased into a soft instrumental reprise of Arirang, swelling with orchestral flourishes and the faint chime of synth bells. The stage itself shifted: vast holopanels reconfigured into a panoramic projection of the galaxy's Western Reaches. A golden light traced the borderlines until one sector pulsed brilliantly, the Crown Sector, heart of the Commonwealth.

From the wings, Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro strode forward, dressed in a sleek ceremonial hanbok-inspired gown, its flowing lines catching the starlight. Her presence drew silence, the crowd holding its collective breath as the instrumental quieted.

"Citizens of the Commonwealth, friends from near and far, welcome. Tonight, we stand not only in Sejong, not only upon Dosuun, but within the living heartbeat of our great union. Our fleet is well on their way home to Commonwealth space, our people stand united, and our culture shines brighter than any banner of tyranny. This is our Arirang, a song that crosses the stars, binding us together."

Her words were carried not just by the sound system, but projected in glowing script across the sky above the plaza, as if etched among the constellations. The crowd erupted again, chanting "Commonwealth! Commonwealth!" in rhythm with the swelling music. Others cheered, and on holoscreens across the the Commonwealth there were cheers.

Then, with dignified grace, Queen Kim of Seoul stepped forward. She wore a modernized royal robe, pale sapphire trimmed in white, a striking contrast to Ivalyn's crimson and gold. Where the Vizier's voice had been commanding, the Queen's was warm, melodic, carrying the cadence of an ancient song.

"Our ancestors once sang Arirang as a lament, a longing for what was lost. Tonight, we sing it as a promise. Across every world, from Ryoone to Dyspeth, from Najarka to Dosuun, our voices rise together. We celebrate not only the survival of our people, but the flourishing of our spirit. No shadow of Sith or despot shall dim the light of the Commonwealth. Tonight, the stars themselves join our song."

At her final words, the stage projection burst alive with a Commonwealth-wide starfield. Each star pulsed like a heartbeat, synchronized with the percussion. The orchestra swelled once more, blending seamlessly into the opening beats of the next S-Pop performance.

All the while, Ivalyn and the Queen walked off stage and down to the backroom. Ivalyn watched with enthusiasm, she gave Queen Areum a respectful bow and the two parted ways. The Dosuunian-born Vizier would go to the secure platforms overlooking the performances, seeking Merryn Sellek Merryn Sellek out.

As the lights around the plaza went out, and then came back in a bright red color bathing the main downtown area in a bright, brilliant red glow.


Insert, Commonwealth equivalent or Seoul equivalent of 2NE1

 

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Arirang Across the Stars
TAG: Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania


Her credits had been stolen.

By a karking Rodian. At least, that had been what the Devaronian told her, pleading for his life as the Huntress held him up in her grip, her beskar gauntleted hands tightening around the blasted fool.

[ Who did it? ] She uttered out with no patience, her voice a growl that the distortion of the modulator only made it sound even more pissed off.

"Csheko Pa. A Rodian! I already put a bounty on him!" He assured her, gesturing to his datapad, half choking as Skye only tightened her grip.

Feth....

FETH!


[ You better not be lying to me. ] She shot back, and the Devaronian gestured wildly with his crimson hands, adding, "I'm not. I sw-- " he coughed as he choked, "Swear! He's here! That's why I told you to meet me here! Big fan of the Seoularian Pop Idols!"

Which led to the moment in time that the Galaxy decided to continue karking her over.

She found the blasted Rodian. However, it seemed someone else had identified him as a mark. Just like that, a surge of momentum started a chain reaction of one continued feth up to the next.

Even as she weaved through the crowd, Skye's visor tracked the Rodian even before the blonde brat made his move. Her HUD tagged the twitch of antennae, the flash of the tattoo, the shift in posture that screamed flight before the prey even bolted.

And then the boy moved. Too fast. Too loud.

Karking amateur.

She didn't need to sense the Force to know panic when she saw it. The boy's lunge had blown subtlety apart, scattering her clean grab into chaos.

[ Karkin hell! ] Skye muttered under her breath, the words swallowed by the obnoxiously peppy and catchy beat of the pop boy band singing as they hip popped and thrusted their way into millions of teenage fans' hearts with each in tune coordinated dance move.

More people. More flooding of screaming teenagers with signs saying:

" WE <3 YOU!!" "WE LOVE YOU JIMEN!" and " PAPI SEUJIN!"

The last made Skye seriously wonder what the feth kind of spice laced luna weed this generation was smoking.

Nek take it!

The throb in her head grew worse, and at this point, the Huntress knew she needed a higher vantage point.

Cue the Bounty Hunter jumping up against a nearby food cart, prompting squeals of surprise and shock, followed by the cursing of the Gluk noodle vendor.

She ignored the bleating grunts of the Ugnaught, only to push herself up on the roof of the stall. From there, she swung her visor to search the crowd.

Feth, feth, feth.

Her cybernetic eye whirred, magnifying, before locking onto the Rodian's path as it cut for the side exits.

Oh no, you don't.

She dropped from her vantage, landing with a hard crack of boots against duracrete, weaving into the churn of bodies. Her jetpack hissed once as she cut a gap, her hand hovering near the blaster strapped to her thigh.

Of course, the damn idiotic concert goers only thought Skye was part of the show, giving a cheer and clapping as they waved neon glow sticks and continued their infernal, high pitched, fan girl squeals.

Never had Skye been so tempted to deploy a knock out grenade than then.

But she had no time. Her target was about to get stolen by some bloodthirsty kid who didn't know better than to spook the mark. And if there was one thing Skye Mertaal didn't do, it was walk away empty handed.

Her visor locked onto the Rodian again. Time to see who could close faster.

 



Lysander surged forward, moving nimbly through the seas of bodies bathed in glowing neon banners. The drifting light petals floated lazily, but he weaved through the venue.

Fans entranced by idol worship pulsed forward in waves of noise and light, drowning out everything but the pounding of his own heart. Along the way, a spotlight snagged him with its cruel glare, bright enough to blind one eye for a second, forcing him to squint and even stumble for a moment.

“Feth me, man,” he muttered under his breath, the words swallowed instantly, for the crowd’s roars continued crashing.

Above it all, another foreign was heard next, commanding the attention of the citizens of the Commonwealth. But Lysander paid it no mind, his focus solely on the thief he was trying to catch.

The irony of this situation was not lost on him, a celebration.. while he pursued a criminal.

Meanwhile, the effects of the strange Nova-Fizz drink lingered on his tongue, tingling as his grip tightened on the bottle. But beneath the teen's nonchalant exterior, he could feel the Force humming, in sync with the pulsing energy around. The scent of grilled skewers tickled his senses.

Once he finally broke into a sprint, the drink bubbled over, spilling across his hands.

It caused him to look down.

And just like that, he plunged right into a vendor. The bottle slipped free, soaring high into the air from his grasp, landing on the duracrete floor, and instantly swallowed by screams.

Shaking off the mishap, he would continue to press forward, senses sharpened, now feeling the weight of countless eyes fixed upon him. He paid them no mind, the acolyte’s only concern being the random flashes of antennae and green scales that darted forward.

Failure was not an option.

One of the crowds parted briefly, a gap opening like a shadow. He seized it without hesitation, pushing past and shoving through another vendor’s cart.
With a sharp turn, he followed into a side alley.

There would be no backup awaiting him, and Lysander knew better than to draw too much attention with flashy Force abilities; the last thing he wanted was a run in with the authorities. Besides, he was just getting started, trying to slowly carve out his reputation in a vast galaxy that didn’t forgive so easily.

His muscles were tense, the stakes lingering in his mind. The Rodian's escape was slipping through his fingers, and this chase was more than just a hunt; it was a test of his own abilities, and a proving ground for the hunter himself.
 

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Alleyway
TAG: Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania


These blasted lightpetals were screwing with her vision.

But even with that, Skye was able to see enough of it unfold. The kid was fast, she'd give him that, but fast didn't always mean clean. It was evident as it all played out with a stumble, a bottle sent flying, then the crash into a vendor. That was all it took to turn precision into chaos.

Her visor tracked the Rodian as he cut into the side alley, panic written in every twitch of antennae. The kid wasn't far behind, but he was too loud, too obvious. This wasn't a proving ground. This was now personal.

Bloody fethin' Hell!

A hiss of her jetpack cut her path sharply, vaulting her above a cluster of gawking bystanders. She landed on the edge of the alley's mouth with a grunt, shadows breaking across the duracrete as she slipped into pursuit.

The cold, icy twitch of nerves as they shot down her spine was a cold reminder of why this mattered. Every step closer to the Rodian was one step closer to the pills she needed, one step closer to silence in her own head.

Through her comm filter, her voice was a low growl.

[ Oh no, you don't.]

The Huntress knew that unless she could close the distance, using anything louder than a stun blaster would cause more panic and trouble than it was worth.

But if it could put the bloody Rodian down. Maybe it would be worth it.

Grabbing a stun grenade, she threw it into the alleyway. It bounced once. Twice. Then exploded.

Thankfully, the swell of the orchestra music and flash and pop of the ongoing concert managed to hide the bulk of the procession sound.

For now.

 
Objective 2

Location: Ryoone, Landing pad leading to museum and archives

Kurayami keyed the encrypted comms between himself and R6 as they prepared to disembark the shuttle. [["R6, remember you insert the self-destructing datapackets into the vox pylon and move on. Once they go off anything connected to those things is going to have a momentary cascade system reboot. The pylon will reboot and be under Commonwealth control S3R-V0 has the signal bouncing from Seoul, both a recording of the opening and a livestream of the current event. One more stop by here on our way out and you'll wirelessly send the kill code to overload the pylon control consoles. Meet me in the archives in T minus 15 minutes."]]

As they descended the ramp and made their way into the museum they were stopped by security. "Sir we need you to present ID and papers to enter the premises." "You can check your records, I am an archivist here on behalf of the Sith Order, my papers are right here, and this is my astromech R5-C7, he will be handling vox pylon inspection." The Corellian handed him a secure datapad containing a falsified ID that identified himself as an independent archivist and archaeologist in the employ of the Sith Order, and the droid as R5-C7. "Everything checks out sir. Right this way."

I follow the soldier with a hovercart distracting him with small talk as R6 heads to perform his 'routine' inspection of the vox pylon, injecting the self replicating and destroying datapacket. While he works on that Kurayami carefully takes note of the placement of artifacts and relics, knowing that once everything went critical they would have only a few minutes of blessed silence to grab relics and such and get them to the shuttle. Unless he could think of something before then. Things had been mostly quiet, but that was soon to change if word was to be trusted.
 

Domar's eyes creaked open as soothing music played from the speakers in the ceiling. Morning had come and Domar's day was starting. He rose from his bed and slid his feet into his slippers before sauntering into the nearby bathroom. He groomed himself, showered and handled any business he had in the bathroom. He threw on a red silky top, black pants and shoes and readied himself for the day. After concluding his morning routine, Domar left his flat and apartment building. His airspeeder was where he left it- his favored parking spot just shy of the sun most of the day. Made for a comfier ride. He looked at himself in the mirror as he put on his GunRay shades and flashed an award-winning smile. He flicked a switch causing the airspeeder to come on. The radio station he had on the night before came on with the speeder.

"That was the latest hit from Koi, one of the newer S-Pop groups out there. Coming up, a whole hour of new S-pop musi-" The DJ's voice was cut off by Domar muting the radio.

"That's enough of that," he said to himself. He was no fan of S-Pop, that much was for certain. He pulled his airspeeder into a spot just a short walk from the Golden Promenade. His favorite spot, the Moonlit Harbor Cafe, was having a special today. He couldn't remember what, but he wasn't going to miss it. As he stepped out of his speeder, he could see people cheering and dancing across the promenade. Perhaps there was something they were celebrating or they were also having a good day like Domar. Though, judging by their revels, they were having a much better day.

As he stepped inside the cafe, he noticed something strange. All of the holoscreens were showing a broadcast from Seoul. He thought nothing of it as he just wanted his morning tea. Domar took a seat at a table by the window and removed his shades. The waitress was prompt as she brought a menu over with a cheeky smile on the side. She was pretty but most waitresses were. Had to be for the job most of the time.


"Greetings, sir! Welcome to Moonlit Harbor Cafe. What can I get you today?" she asked, her attitude was perky and upbeat. Almost to an annoying level. Domar realized she was just being nice and doing her job.

"I'll have today's special with a tarine tea, gorgeous." Domar ordered.

"Very good choice, sir. I'll be back soon with your order. Hope you're excited for the shows later. I know I am!" She walked off before Domar could speak up. Her mention of shows confused him. Was there something happening today? He hadn't heard anything, through he realzied being up to date on current events was not his greatest strength.


 
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Lysander's hands were telling a story in the chase: in one, was a skewer stick, appearing like a makeshift weapon in his refusal to let go; in the other, he still clutched the light petal that the girl had gifted him just moments ago.

Moving into the narrow alley, the walls suddenly seemed to close in around him. His vision tunneled; it was there, he finally felt a sliver of control, for he was gaining ground on his target at last, now almost within reach.

Behind him, the bass thumped, pounding off the walls. Lysander felt it in his bones, syncing with the strike of his boots against duracrete.

Despite stumbling earlier, there was one truth that never failed him: his Force intuition. It continued humming beneath his skin, whispering secrets that no sound from this venue could mask. But one more step later, fear was unleashing itself from the Rodian, crackling through the air. Realization sparked, but it was too late to stop what was being forced upon them both.

Amid the chaos, the shouts, the music, one distinct sound managed to pierce through it all: the clink of metal. Time suddenly stretched. His reflexes surged, a single hand rising, prepared to wield telekinesis and hurl the explosive back toward its sender. Realizing he wouldn’t have the opportunity, he then dropped into a slight crouch, muscles coiling, bracing for the impact that was inevitable.

When the explosion detonated, a wave of pressure slammed into every surface, a blinding flash that left Lysander wobbling, his ears ringing with echoes. Both arms shot up instinctively to cover his face.

Fingers tightened around the delicate petal. However, the skewer didn’t stand a chance. It flew mid-blast, cutting through the air like a dart.
A sharp breath tore from him, limbs trembling, adrenaline coursing through his body.

But he held his ground, determined to see this job through.

It managed to hit the Rodian squarely, a blow that sent green antennae flailing wildly, like grass in a storm, before leaving him lying motionless.
 

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Alleyway
TAG: Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania

The blast tore the air apart.

Shrapnel rattled like teeth against Skye's beskar as she ducked low, visor flashing white with the overload of light. Her ears rang, but she moved anyway by sheer habit and the kind of survival edge you never dare to switch off.

The concert's roar hadn't died; if anything, it tangled with the chaos spilling into the alley. Sirens were already screaming closer. Security had eyes everywhere, and she knew it wouldn't be long before a squad of Seoularian soldiers funneled down on their position. It was just a matter of time. Mere minutes, if that. She had gone for broke and it showed.

But she didn't care. Not yet.

Her stride was sharp, cutting through smoke and panic with purposeful steps that resonated with determination, sheer grit forcing the Bounty hunter from the tremors and queasy sensation of withdrawal. The feth-off kind of walk that told anyone watching she wasn't here to play. Her HUD swept across the alley, the cybernetic ocular patch flaring a bright Corseca Gem red as it locked in on the prone Rodian.

But then she saw him.

The blonde kid, crouched low, knuckles white around a glowing petal like it was a lifeline. Too young. Too green. He shouldn't have been here.

What the kark are you doing here, kid, the thought cut through her like a curse, lips pressing thin beneath the helmet. That T-visor bore down silently at Lysander, the bright flash of light scanning over his features to tag and file him away in her stint, before it swung forward.

No time. Not for him, not for hesitation. She forced her focus back, moving past Lysander with the hunter's purpose drilled into her bones. The Rodian was down, and she needed answers before the authorities boxed them in.

Every second was borrowed. Every step closer was her chance to claw back what she came for: her credits, her pills, her peace.

And Skye wasn't about to waste a single bloody heartbeat.

Nor were the Tigerkin rushing in towards the alley to reach them.

 
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For a moment, his vision felt like it was glitching, until the ringing in his ears slowly dulled. The edges of reality began cutting through the haze. Right away, his focus locked onto a new profile. The plating of their armor was a reminder of past battles, of invasions, on both Theed and Dee'ja Peak that he had tried to bury deep in his memory.

Now they resurfaced intensely.

His jaw clenched instinctively, a brief flare of ice igniting behind eyes that were narrowing; he knew, without a single doubt, that it was this person who launched the grenade.

A bounty hunter, through and through.

And as the figure approached, it was clear that they were not alone. Towering forms pressed forward from the alleyway's entrance, rapidly closing in. Self preservation suddenly gripped the teen's chest, nudging him to vanish, or perhaps drop into the tunnels in a modest attempt to escape, to leave the green rodent behind.

He refused to give in to fear.

No, Lysander was no coward.

With a shift on the duracrete beneath his heel, muscles coiled back to readiness. He knew that escape was becoming less and less likely, but he also knew better than to succumb to fury and engage in a brawl.

Unfortunately, his moment to run had passed.

The vulnerability that washed over him next arrived with a sharp sting. Based on what was drawing near, trying to charm his way out was looking highly unlikely; charisma had always been his best shield in such encounters.

But this time, he knew words would fail him.

Beneath whatever facade of control he believed himself to still possess, an undercurrent of anger was born, and words were bubbling at the edge of his tongue.

"Way to go, you fething idiot. You've alerted every officer in the area," he hissed through clenched teeth. A sharp breath was inhaled, voice barely above a whisper. "Easy for you, though, with your little jetpack. You can just fly away."

The first of the Tigerkin approached, a presence that may have typically commanded attention, a trait that so often left Lysander unfazed. Still, no weapons were drawn, and he didn't detect any immediate threat.

"Your actions have disrupted a Commonwealth sanctioned venue," the leader of their entourage stated, "We ask that you accompany us away from the site."

Two more Tigerkin flanked him, but Lysander stood quiet, refusing to be intimidated.

"It is a procedural escort. You will not be detained unless you refuse compliance."

Logic suggested he should turn and leave, but there was a more primal urge, which caused an index digit to twitch, an itch begging to reach for his lightsaber. While considering a response, his attention was once again drawn back to the other bounty hunter.
 

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