High Stakes and Who is He? (TSE Dominion of Troiken)

[Darth Ophidia]

OBJECTIVE: A: President Who?

1. Firipp Kang​

"Yes ma'am, I am sure it was quite the spectacle."

He lifted the glass to his lips again, pausing for a moment when he heard the quermian and his xexto friend laugh loud and saw at least three index fingers pointed at him while knees were slapped. He looked down at the xexto in front of him who looked absolutely shocked.

CLAPclap!

Two hands raked across his cheek and made him spill most of his drink. He was not quite sure where he had gone wrong. Was it in fact a sir he was listening too? Well the bright, plush ruff around its neck surely caught him off guard. Firipp Kang wished he had stayed on Serenno, and deep inside he yearned for a time when he could snort derisively at all non humans.

The xexto crossed its four arms in expectation and Kang simply turned and walked away, much to the amusement of the quermian who was patting his knees and practically choking on his own laughter.

Flustered, but retaining his noble visage, Firipp hurried deeper into the house. He heard something- Music? It contrasted against the music of the lounge and foyer, and came from the top of two enormous winding stairs. In some gatherings, it would be rude to go wandering in a host's house, but then again what did he know at this point? He was ripe for desperate measures.

The chrono ticked and he could feel it in his arm.

The diplomat elegantly scaled the steps, one hand on the wood rail. It was finely cut. Finding wood in this area of the galaxy was a sign of opulent wealth. He scaled the steps with his heart in his throat and eyes set stiffly forward, covering his fear and possible shame with a face of rigid dignity. Of course he should be there, why wouldn't he? He was a dignitary of the Sith Empire after all. Who dared to stand in the way of the Empire's Mission?

Surely no one.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Throne Room of the Shadow Hand, Aboard Goliath

Chaos, discord. The trade routes of Troiken were infested with corsairs who preyed off all who passed through their checkpoints choking the economies of the worlds around them, granting their captains enormous power that they never should've had. But everything changed when the Sith Empire set their sights on the planet and sought to bring it into the fold. A statement needed to be made and so the Shadow Hand set course and War Fleet Leviathan came with him.

​In the bowels of the great throne room atop a seat of black iron in laden with crimson dark side energy sat the man himself. He was defended on all sides by four members of the Nerean Crownguard, the rest held members of the Attendants carrying out their duties. Quite suddenly however a shaft above the throne room opened up and it sent the great structure up through a grav lift, the Nereans motionless as they all were carried upward right into the command bridge where all present bowed before him, a motion of his hand sending them back to the task at hand.

"We are approaching the first of these pirates checkpoints now my lord." Krell said.

"Wipe them out Lord Admiral, every last infectious stain on the trade routes must be swept away."

1

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective B: Fight for the Empire's glory

The two fighters closed the distance in a flash, each seeking to take the initiative and claim the centre ground. The crowd cheered as their champions seemingly wanted to make the fight as energetic as possible.

Joycelyn made long strides, bringing the blade up over her head in preparation for a strike, then turned it to come in from the side rather than above. It was not the most complex attack, but the telegraphed overhand usually put her opponents off guard. Not the shistavanen, however. No, this one was too clever for such a simple trick, too experienced to fall for the first ruse.

As they came close, the lupine warrior feinted a step forward and made a small leap back. The flaming blade cut through the air only two fists away from his neck. The fire gave him no comfort, but now he knew how long the blade was. He then brought the spear into a fierce thrust. It was short enough not to hinder him at this distance, but long enough to let him compete with his opponent. The spear was mighty, he knew it. After all, it was the king of all weapons.

Her blade missed and a spearpoint came in, thursting for her throat. This guy was not pulling his punches. She swayed to the side as she brought the blade back, knocking the spearhead aside just in time. She stepped in trying to capitalise on the moment with a quick cut for his eyes.

 

[LT-137]

Objective C: The Swindler of Veterned.

​

With taloned fingers tapping impetuously against the burnished surface of his resting helmet, Khonsu watched with hawkish eyes as dozens of multi-limbed Xexto began loading crates onto the extended, and grated decking of his vessel’s cargo bay. The Corvette, known to many as the Solvognen, had come to the duality-stricken world of Troiken with the intent of resupplying their depleted stores. While the system wasn’t known for its palatable bounty of foodstuffs, nor for its inexhaustible cache of munitions, it was the only system within range that had what they needed - lest they sail through the stars on tibanna fumes and emergency rations.

That meant there was no choice in choosing a more favourable port in which to make their berth, and they would have to make do with what they’d get until they had choked their way through whatever paltry offerings these creatures could muster. However, there was no doubt in the Twisuns Legate’s mind that whatsoever was nestled into those crates would be infinitely better than recycled water and stale hardtack.

“One would think,” Lanius boomed, as he revealed himself from the vessel’s shadowy interior. “With how much we’re paying these cretins, they would move a little faster.” Although his voice was cleverly disguised by the monotonous tones of his armour’s annunciator, it couldn’t mask his irritation nor his impatience. Khonsu’s thinned lips cracked into a smile, as he tore his gaze off the diminutive Xexto deckhands, and spotted his counterpart. The man was a storied legend within the Golden Company and had rightfully earned his place within the Officer caste - at least according to the tales spun forth by his superiors.

It was said that he had personally led his Legions in a campaign that had seen several systems on the fringe worlds of the Sith Empire brought into compliance. That several of their leaders, who had sought to give into their hubris and defy the coming splendour of the Empire, were strung up by their toes for all to see. There was even mention of the man giving into his sadistic desires, and gutting them all with his massive, and wickedly edged greatsword; leaving them all to be food to the circling vultures.

However, they were nothing more than stories, and could very well be figmentations of a fevered mind.

“Indeed,” Khonsu replied, half-heartedly. “However, despite the incentive of coin, it seemed these creatures can’t be bribed with just credits. Perhaps,” He paused, allowing his lips to curl into a serpentine’s approximation of a malicious grin. “We should give you a whip, and set you to the task of… encouraging expediency.”

The Sun Guard Officer laughed in response to his companion’s words. “If only they weren’t considered prospective citizens of the Sith Empire, then perhaps I would’ve indulged myself for your viewing pleasure.” To chase his words, Lanius mockingly wielded a lash and struck out at the nearest Xexto; after the Xenos-creature had placed a crate down near to where they congregated. The bug-eyed alien blinked in horrified understanding, before pivoting on the spot and running back to more familiar grounds.

“Now, that is something you don’t see every day,” Lanius stated plainly, before giving shaking his armoured form with mirth.

“No,” Khonsu stated after several seconds of silence. “It’s not.”

 

[Lisanne Escher]

Location: Veterned
Objective: [C] Don't get recognized by Sith, get credits back, get help with the latter
Ally: [member="Sebastian Thel"]

---

---

Lisanne shrugged, slightly surprised by the answer to her offer to pay him after the fact. She wasn't going to push it though- she did not have the most luxurious standard of living, so free help was worth its weight in gold. "I don't pilot the most comfortable ship in the galaxy, but as long as you don't have too much against that you're more than welcome aboard." There was a chance he had something to hide, but the woman herself was a member of the League of Voss on a planet where suddenly the Sith had showed up. It wouldn't be a justifiable reason to decline the request. "And if the design of it seems familiar to you once we get out of here, don't mention that out in the open."

Secretly it came to Lisanne's relief when Sebastian revealed his preference lied within the option of breaking and entering, knowing she would be of much more use. "Sounds good to me. We get in, retrieve my credits, and get out and off this planet." After the less-than-amazing experience she had had here the woman was not interested in spending much more time on Troiken. When the notebook was pulled out however she was a bit confused for moment but decided to just go along with whatever he did, following him as he walked over to the side of the building.

"Just, just let me know when you need me to do anything," Lisanne remarked while Sebastian seemed to be carefully working out his plan. Leaning her back against the wall she decided to play lookout, making sure nobody got suspicious over what they were doing. The crowd seemed to either be apathetic or simply too busy to notice the two however, much to her relief. Still she tapped her foot to show she wasn't one for sitting still, even if she forced herself in that moment. "You're always prepared for these kind of situations, huh? Not everyone brings tools with them everywhere they go."

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

OBJECTIVE: D — Pirates

POST: Four

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV9UKkT9eLw

The first of the straggelers was upon Jantar before she’d realised what was happening.

Her droid gave a sharp rebuke.

“Yes, I know what I’m doing. Anyhow, who's flying this thing? Karkin' rust bucket.”

Jantar rolled her ship and cruised down after the lone ship.

Even before rer droid could hoot a warning, the hiss of lasers splashing themselves over her aft shields caught her full attention. His secondary monitor showed the pirate dropping in on her tail. Must have throttled back as she performed her own manoeuvre. Jantar finally accepted she was not quite the ace she had built up in her own mind. Not yet, at least. But soon.

Karkin’ soon.

Pumping more energy into her shields, Jantar rolled her ship right. She pulled back on the stick to start a loop and held it for three seconds, and then cut her throttle back and inverted. Pulling back harder on the stick, she completed a fast loop, and then throttled up through the end of it and rolled out right.

As her fighter’s nose came to point at the prate, its pilot rolled his craft and dove away from Jantar. The Sith pilot started down after him, but cut back to 75 percent of her speed. As she anticipated, the pirate cut his speed as well, hoping Jantar would race past him.

She was getting better, minute by minute.

And so, rather than overshoot, Jantar triggered one quick burst of fire that hit high on the pirate’s port wing, burning a neat black hole. She then stood on her right rudder pedal, keeping her guns on the pirate, and poured another quad burst of laserfire into the enemy ship.

All four lasers drilled through the port wing, and then stabbed deep into the cockpit. A bright light flashed through the hole the lasers had opened, and Jantar expected the ship to explode, but it didn’t. Instead it began to come apart, with bits and pieces of it whirling away as if the bright flash had disintegrated all the rivets and welds used in its manufacture.

Jantar looped her ship away from the dying pirate, but before she could celebrate – or even catch her breath, another pirate came out of apparently nowhere a green laser bolt cutting through space only a fraction from where Jantar had been.

Jantar reacted instinctively and dropped her crosshairs on the pirate and thumbed her weapons-control over to torpedoes. On the heads-up display a green box surrounded the pirate ship, and then it went yellow. Her droid's annoying tone picked up speed as it sought a targeting solution for the torpedo. When it finally got it, hits tone became constant and the box went red.

Jantar goosed the throttle forward, brought up the fighter's nose, and launched a proton torpedo. The missile leaped up, riding a brilliant blue flame. The torpedo spiralled up through space, and then curled down as the pirate tried to evade it. The pilot's efforts proved partially successful: The torpedo did not hit it, but overshot and exploded when proximity sensors reported it had missed.

Fortunately the force of the missile blast crumpled the pirate's port wing and tore most of it away from the stubby stanchion that connected the wing to the ship's fuselage. Shrapnel from the missile itself blew through the transparisteel viewport. Lethal shards of the transparent metal whirled through the cockpit, stabbing deep into equipment and slicing clean through the pilot. Spinning wildly, the pirate exploded in a satisfying golden fireball.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

OBJECTIVE: A: President Who?

2. C9-KK7​

"Miss Zhanaq, what a joy it is to have found you"

C9's legs carried him over to the easily recognisable form of a seated muun woman with a high collared, purple suit and broad, puffy shoulders. She appeared engrossed in a conversation with two xexto and a fellow protocol droid which functioned as a translator. The muun nodded sagely and picked an object off the table, paying little to no mind to C9's presence.

"May I introduce myself, I am C9-KK7 Imperial Relations Droid listed to the service master Firipp Kang and assisting miss Zhanaq, whose pleasing acquaintance you have already made. I am most humbly at of your service."

He made his gestures of politeness to the figures on board, and first now did the muun turn to him. She let a long pipe part from her lips and held the smoke in her lungs for a seemingly unhealthy amount of time. C9 leaned in expecting a word, but found himself with a face full of smoke, followed by the high-pitched laughter of the two xexto.

"How rude."

The protocol droid seated at the table took the pipe and made it ready for the next pass. The muun snickered and swayed, C9 took a bewildered step back from what he considered a most absurd and illogical situation. Then again, partaking in the spice was indeed part of many cultures. He would need time to process this.

"Excuse me, my lady, gentlemen, droid."

He turned and waddled off, sensing something soft soaring through the air and bouncing off his shoulder. Indeed how rude. It was best to find master Kang right away.

 

[Leliana]

Objective B: Participate in a Swoop Race

Leliana was ushered along by the Xexto assistant's that guided her through the garage/hangar, abuzz with too much noise for the assassin's tastes. It seemed all the swoop racers were present within the large area, doing last minute prep on their vehicle along with going over their gameplans.

It dawned on her however, that she didn't understand what the Xexto's were saying. None were speaking Galactic Basic, and Leliana had no knowledge of which language they were speaking. Everything was mostly gibberish to her, but was able to get a general gist of what they were saying.

Especially when they pushed her towards a particular bike.

The swoop looked pretty standard, similar to the ones [member="Darth Ophidia"] had her use on Maena. It was nothing special, but it wasn't like it was going to fall apart at the slightest touch. Leliana wondered whether her master had organized this, hired a swoop for her to race on. She knew these kind of things usually had sponsors and such.

Leliana sighed as she began going over some basic checks, making doubly sure things weren't going to fall apart when the speed inevitable picked up.

"Five minutes remaining. All racers are to be positioned for the start by that time." A voice echoed across via a tannoy system.

"Well, so much for going in prepared." While not entirely satisfied with her evaluations of the swoop, Leliana slid the helmet onto her head and climbed onto the swoop bike.

 

[Onrai]

When the Ablution​ exited the void of Hyperspace, it was joined by several more ships. The entirety of the Void Irregular Fleet, as well as a few more ships in question. For one, the Interdictine-class Star Destroyer Dominator​, a vessel not listed on the official registry of Imperial naval roles, was there. This was for good reason - the Dominator​ was a part of the Sith Empire and New Order naval forces Vanessa had sequestered over the decades, reserved for use in the event that the obsolete warships were needed in the war against the Jedi and their puppet factions. It was all part of her plan to have a ready-to-use navy should the Greater Maldrood be forced to arise due to sudden instability.

And here was an opportunity to grow such forces.

She recognized the pirate ships that stood before her - many were Captivitas heavy cruisers, Invictus Star Destroyers, Avarice Star Destroyers, and Dalek frigates. Vessels from the Empire's earliest days that apparently were gathered as some sort of pirate clan, raiding the local shipping. The Agonizer​ was quite obvious, its damaged form flying further towards the rear of the formation of pirate ships. Vanessa motioned for the bridge crew to open up a channel - an old Imperial channel - that all these vessels would be able to listen to.

"Greetings, former Imperials. I am Vanessa Vantai. You may recall me better as Darth Pandeima." She began, clearing her throat. "I've come to let you know that you interestingly enough are committing crimes against the government you once served, by poaching on Imperial shipping. Given the criminal charges you could experience for this, I have two options for you. The first is that you go to the coordinates I am transmitting to you right now. You will do exactly what the people there tell you to do - if you do not, death will soon follow."

She paused for a moment. "The second option is that I kill you all where you stand. I have the latest in Sith weaponry equipped on this warship and it will be an utter bloodbath if you so much as fire a single turbolaser shot at my ship. Failure to respond will lead to your destruction as pirates. The choice is yours. You have five minutes." With that, she closed the channel. It was time to play the waiting game.

 

[Arage Bao]

Admiral Verse Taggart studied the courtyard where a vast array of diverse slaves were currently kneeling down.

Their overseer was whipping them into shape, forcing them up on their knees after just making them kneel a moment ago. That brought an expression of distaste on her catlike features. Oh, they were cattle, but they were specimens with a price. No wonder that the Troiken plantations were undervalued for the sixth month straight, it was an absolute disaster as far as she was concerned.

Luckily the spice cultivated here made up for it... a little bit.

"Overseer Dim?" Dim was a Trandoshan and a badly-mannered one, but the sweetlike taste of her voice did much to straighten out his back. Luck had it Dim knew it was best not to address her directly.

That would have made her cross.

"I am going to inspect this batch now." That was the entire reason of her visit. The encroachment of the Sith Empire on Troiken had been watched with trepidation by the monarchy at Zygerria and then some. Their anti-slavery (on a large industrial scale anyway) attitude was rather uncouth and annoyingly liberal for an empire forged in blood and anger.

Now that the planet would formally join the Empire in a matter of days it was time to ship out the slaves towards other, brighter pastures.

"Too old."
"Too... flappy."
"Ugh too human. No, kidding, he is perfect, with the survivors please."
"I don't like her look, or that one."

"You know what, just execute the rest, I don't have any more room anyway."

Truthfully Verse had wanted to take a bit more time with the inspection, but sadly she had an appointment. According to her commlink one [member="Darth Imperia"] was already led into her office with refreshments and the sort. She had received a cryptic message a few days ago... apparently not all Sith were against slavery and this Imperia wished to discuss business with her.

Very well.

A moment later Verse was marching into the compound, weaving her way through the halls towards her office for a possibly exciting meeting. In her wake she left sobbing, crying, shouts of anger and blaster bolt bursts one at a time.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The races had begun, and the hoopla of the crowd was almost as deafening as the roar and hum of the engines as the podracers jerked into action and sped away from the starting line like a flock of mynocks right out of Chaos. But there was nothing sweeter to Doviculous' ears than the high-pitched whine of engine failure as several of the podracers malfunctioned shortly after acceleration, sending them and their unfortunate pilots right into the retaining wall that marked the first steep turn away from the crowded stands.

And of course, Doviculous couldn't help but let loose a bellowing, mocking laugh as he slammed his pint glass of spice liquor onto the booth table.

Droplets of the liquid splashed on himself and his accompanying floozies, who merely giggled drunkenly and continued to caress the crime lord's pectorals in a spice-fueled haze. Copious amounts of the substance had been scattered all over the table itself, and traces of the drug could be clearly seen under their noses and lining their cobalt colored lips. Fading smudges of the blueish lipstick could be seen across the Devaronian's bare crimson flesh, increasing in quantity as one went further down.

Still, the race had only just begun. A holographic screen extended down from the ceiling above the booth and lit up with a live image of the remaining pods swooping and swerving around the various lethal obstacles of the track. Doviculous' grin widened as he took another hearty chug of his liquor.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective B: Fight for the Empire's glory

Chit!

The sword came swinging in, not hard enough to finish the job, but certainly enough to cripple him. No, he would not have that. He would not go so easily into the night. He had underestimated her, but no more.

The shitavanen barely managed to duck out of the way of the stab. It sliced off a noticeable piece of his ear and set some of his fur curling up like writhing worms, but he dug deep and carried on fighting. He would not go down to some rookie outlander in a silly costume. He was the champion and when the day was done, he would still be champion. He would never be second best.

As he ducked, he brought the spear around for a swing, aiming for her leg.

This motherkarker was quick, she gave him that, but Joycelyn Zambrano was relentless. She brought the sword around after the first slash and went in for an overhead when she saw he had already positioned himself for a slash for her legs. He would hit before she, and that vibrospear could chop her leg half off. A double kill meant both of them lost. She would not lose.

So as he brought his weapon around for a slash, she brought her down in a mighty parry. Her blade carved through the neck of the spear, crushing it into the sand and preventing it from taking her leg, but the champion was quick in his reactions and brought the jagged stump of the spear into a rising cut to cover himself. The tip scratched Joyce's chest, causing little droplets of blood to form on her oiled skin.

Each had drawn blood. It was first to third blood or surrender.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Hirou's Day Off

Small feet carried the little Nezumi far. From the Kathol Outback to the broken snows of Castameer to the Tingel Arm and the heart of the Sith Empire. It was, Hirou mused, not at all what they had expected when they set out from their Nest ship, in hopes of finding enough materials to build a new one for their clan eventually. Now the Nezumi were welcomed in the Sith Empire, and the Tabigarashu Clan was an integral and trusted part of the Saarashish.... and Hirou?

Hirou sat right hand to [member="Darth Saarai"]. Trusted. Friend. Confidant. With honorary titles of Sith Knight (despite being no force user at all), High Admiral of the Inquisition Navy (despite there being no such official position), and with a floating cities named after them, Hirou mostly existed in a state that swung between earnest, hard working mouse and eternally bemused.

Nonetheless, even the Saarashish Agent had time off to spend occasionally, and today?

Today they were traveling through the bazaar, enjoying the sights, the smells-

And trying not to get stepped on.

Hirou squeaked, snatching up their tail with a bit of a huff as it was almost crushed beneath a boot.

Maneuvering carefully, they scampered to and fro, finding their way through the various booths and stalls. Mostly enjoying the sights. Except when it was the sight of a very large shoe descending.

But, Hirou was used to that.

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]

Itash had his own day off.

Troiken wasn't all that interesting in the larger scope of things, but Didact had been hired by the Empire to run some security details around certain operations of theirs. The mental link conveyed the smell and the scent was that of spice. One of the few things this dust ball was truly good for, so it didn't truly surprise Itash. Because it was low-key and few people expected any resistance Itash had decided to take the opportunity to walk the bazaar and see if there were any curious items on display as a souvenir.

For himself, of course.

Cassandra had better taste than that. "Hm?" Something bumped into the heel of his shoe. He looked down and was suddenly face-to-....muzzle? of a smol mouse. They were looking up at him and it almost seemed as if its mouth was moving.

"-orry!" It squeaked and was about to trundle off again, but stopped when they noticed Itash lowered down through his knees to take a closer look. "You... can talk?" Those around Itash made room for him. Of course, they did, they knew who he was. It had flowed through the bazaar the moment he took a step inside. Money spoke and his reputation as a mercenary captain who offered his services to the Empire for the past year was no secret to anyone.

"How interesting. What is your name?"

 

[Darth Ophidia]

OBJECTIVE: A: President Who?

1. Firipp Kang​

Lord Firipp Kang of Serenno reached the top of the stairs, his eyes gliding swiftly over the many images and stuffed heads on the walls. This part of the house had a weight of history that made him feel at home. He saw that the landing split into two paths, each following the wall and creating a sort of balcony over the rest of the hall. He could see the shapes of everyone but they seemed to blend together with the din of conversations. On either side, there were doors leading off to new halls and stairs and adventure. Right in front of him there were a set of double doors, almost shut. They towered over him in a pointed arch, twice his size. Each door was almost as thick as a fist, made from whole blocks of finely carved Worshyr.

He pushed the doors gently open until he could pass through unimpeded.

Inside there was far less smoke and fewer visitors. A bith looked up from a his reading, then right back down without a care in the world. There were items in glass casings and statues on display. On the far end, he saw it opening into a well-lit room where stained glass cast bright colours. With as much haste as dignity would allow, the diplomat made his way there.

There was a desk, some couches, a star-map and a map of Troiken itself, all exquisitely made. He traced a hand over the desk; it had the feel of home. Such emotions brought a momentary smile, and then a grave concentration as he approached the map of Troiken and watched it. Curiosity crept over him like a shadow, luring him closer and closer until his finger was drawn out towards it. Just as it was about to touch, it glowed and almost sparked in anticipatio-

"I see you found my study."

Firipp stiffened and turned. He could have sworn there was no one there when he entered, but now, on the far side of the room, there was a xexto holding a bell glass while a droid poured an amber liquid for him. On the other side of the xexto stood a zygerrian with a shrewd look in her eyes.

"I apologise for my intrusion, I seek President-" "I am he." "How do you find my festivities?"

Firipp withheld a sigh as he thought about the three other members of this diplomatic mission, lost down there. At least he was here. He had a chance.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

It was not the first time a human was surprised that Hirou could talk, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. In truth, it was a pretty common problem Nezumi out in the galaxy encountered. There were a number of ways of dealing with it, anywhere from simply avoiding the Too-Bigs to some very rude responses.

Hirou went the patient approach. Honestly, in their experience the Too-Bigs weren't overly bright to begin with, so it simply seemed a kindness. Especially since Hirou had bumped into them. Well, the heel of their boot.

"I do, yes," they replied, pausing in their journey.

Getting down closer, it was clear that the little Nezumi was dressed very smartly indeed. A tailored jacket had been made with the details in mind for them, and the small belt was fine leather with a variety of tiny tools hung on it.

"Tabigarashu Madara Hirou," Hirou said, making a bow he'd learned while assigned to watch [member="Darth Carnifex"] on Jaminere. "But just Hirou will do."

There had been a time where the Nezumi had kept their personal name private, as most Nezumi did. But in the two years they had served the Empire as a whole and [member="Darth Saarai"] in particular, their habits had slowly morphed and changed. This one's anyway.

"Agent of the Saaraishash." There was a note of pride there. "And you are?" Hirou inquired politely.

[member="Itash Mecetti"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]

Now that was a rather elaborate name for a mouse.

But Itash didn't comment on it- especially considering this Tabigarashu Madara seems to have a very groomed perspective, their smol clothes fine and refined, their voice polite (perhaps even... patient? As if it had done this dance many times before... perhaps they had). The thought came to Itash that he might have been rather rude about things, because of ignorance and assumptions.

"A fine name, Agent Hirou." The fact that he was now not simply speaking to a talking mouse, but also to an agent of the Saaraishash? Well, that did change the optics of this conversation.

"I apologize for my assumptions." Politely and calmly back. "I did not realize the Saaraishash was handling an operation here."

Brows furrowed at that- he would have to increase his attempts to gain intelligence from those sources. It had been difficult enough, but Itash didn't really enjoy being surprised like this. "My name is Lord Itash of House Mecetti." Tash informed the mouse almost as an afterthought. "I have worked with the Empire many times, I founded Didact Defense Solutions?"

That last bit almost as a question.

 

[Darth Imperia]

Imperia had to respect the Zygerrians. More than any other group (save the Sith, of course), they understood how the galaxy worked – the strong rule, the weak serve. Oh, the vast majority of them were little more than chattel themselves, of course, but that was true of almost any species – and the Zygerrians in particular, with their strength and their cunning, made for excellent war-thralls and overseers both. But Imperia wasn’t here to enslave any Zygerrians – not today, at least. Maybe later.

“Would you like a drink, Mistress Imperia? Miss Taggart’s servants left a lovely vintage for you.” Akemi’s voice was as meek and reverential as it always was when he addressed the object of his worship, but Imperia just found it grating this time. Still, she tried not to let her annoyance show too much. It had been nearly a year since he’d last seen her, so he was undoubtedly just excited to be serving her again.

“I can see the bottle – I still have eyes, you know, sweetie. That much hasn’t changed about me. And no, I think I’ll be waiting for the Admiral to join us first. She should be here soon, anyway. Just stay quiet and look pretty, dear. You’re good at that.”

Akemi, looking only slightly hurt by the rebuff he’d just received, proceeded to do his best imitation of a statue. Imperia chuckled at him, the sort of chuckle you’d give a pet if it just did something cute, then shifted her attention to the rapidly approaching presence in the Force. How long until it arrived? Five seconds, at current speed.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The door to the office slid open silently, and Imperia, facing away from said door, smiled.

“Admiral Verse Taggart. A pleasure to meet you.”

- -

[member="Jin Shao"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Darth Imperia"]

Head tilted as Verse studied the straight back of the Sith.

"Lady Imperia, I take it." The heels clicked against the floor as she went to pass Imperia and her standing slave. It was there that the Zygerrian paused for a moment, letting her attention swipe lazily across the figure. It was a critical eye regardless, brushing muscle, bone, the inches of their cheekbones, even leaned in a bit to study the clarity of the eyes while she was there.

Throughout it all Verse hummed softly and acted like Akemi was the statue he pretended to be. "Mmm, it is a similar pleasure to meet someone who knows their meat." Verse coed softly before finally continuing her path, around her desk and flopping down gracefully on the seat.

One leg crossed over the other.

Studying the humanoid in front of her Verse hummed in appreciation once more. Truly a beautiful human, she would fetch a bounty or two.

"To business then. How can I help you on this beautiful today?" Sharp canines gleamed as she smiled bright. Outside of the office the sounds of the blaster shots could still be overheard as more slaves were being executed without concern. It had received a certain... cadence at this point. A few heartbearts. Shoot. Heartbeat. Shoot. Over and over again.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The racers sped along the winding, narrow rock corridors as they neared the halfway mark for the first lap. So far out of the eighteen participants, only seven remained. Several had stalled right at the start line thanks to Doviculous' sabotage efforts, while several more had perished or been totaled by the track's numerous obstacles. All of it was captured in pristine high definition by the cam-probes that littered the track, always swirling through the air to capture the most cinematic angle of the racers as they struggled against one another and the dangerous track.

And the spectators ate it up, cheering when a racer managed to narrowly avoid an obstacle or when they horrifically crashed into one. It ultimately didn't matter to them, they hungered for violence and carnage.

Besides gladiatorial combat, it was difficult to find another sport filled with death like podracing.

Doviculous loved that kind of chit, no matter what form it came packaged in. But what he really loved was that his racer was still in the game, and was coming up fast behind the leader. The races swung through the starting area, indicating the start of the second lap of the race. Besides this one there was only one more lap left, and the most intense action always boiled down in the third lap. That was when the tension and the hunger for victory were at their highest, and when desperate measures would be taken to secure the victory.

The death toll was also noticeably higher.

Should make for a good show, thought Doviculous.