I Said I'd Be Back [Lords of the Fringe Dominion of Eriadu]

[Lucianus Adair]

Eriadu
Seswanna Sector

Eriadu was one of those planets, situated on a choking point of trade routes and possessive of a government that really just wanted to get their planet on the map, just like Coruscant and to a lesser extent Nar Shaddaa. So it wasn't strange that at some point the world was getting problems with their atmosphere, seas, generally anything that had to do with nature and could have been fixed if people had just wanted to invest some cash into it. Usually things don't work out all that well, but Eriadu was different somehow. The seas were cleansed, purified from its toxic waste and even the atmosphere had slowly been recovering - four hundred years of planetary stabilization would do that to a world.

Eriadu was an important world for the Fringe and generally for the entire region, and for some reason every time the Fringe decided to stake a claim, there was problem on the foot. Today it was Reavers on the one side, slavers on the other and in between the remaining civilian population that was desperately trying to get out, or loot anything they could.

The objective was simple: neutralize the threat and mediate a solution with the civilians.

In the meantime, the shipyards above Eriadu were having problems. Key personnel were missing, the others had fled already and now it was running on a skeleton crew of droids. Problem was that the machinery that was supposed to keep it in orbit was starting to malfunction. The Fringe would first need to secure the shipyards and then repair the machinery or if that wasn't possible, find a way to land the shipyards in an area with minimal civilian losses.

Objectives

1. Secure the shipyards/Repair them
2. Neutralize the Reaver/Slaver threats
3. Mediate with the civilians and duck their rock throwing

 

[Arage Bao]

~Somewhere else~​

[member="Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs"]​

Pulsating walls, they projected the memories of old to him. His victories, his failures, the moments of bliss and those of agony, then came the memories of recent years. Traveling, witnessing wonders most could only dream about, it wouldn’t have been possible without Merrill and for that he would always be grateful to her.

Together they had undone their shackles, but whereas Rave had decided to use her knowledge to find a solution to an ancient old problem of hers, Jared had never been a man who would go so far. His history, all the time spent, plotting, killing, regretting and seeking for salvation where there was none to be had. It was all a part of him, and he wouldn’t give that away for any figment of supposed peace.

But his realm of dreams held together by his will was steadily becoming more and more boring, Ovmar could feel that things were going bad in his beloved galaxy, in realspace where his family still was. Rifts opening. The dead had stood up and walked again, old scores long since settled bursting open again, ancient wars flaring up.

Things weren’t great and they would only get worse, before they could get better, because that was the way the world worked these days. So he reached out towards one connection that was suitably more stronger to him than the others were, it was a recent bond (relatively speaking, time meant little to nothing for him these days) and through it a conversation could be started.

Jared did not know where she was now, but he knew that she was in pain, for his disappearance, for the others that might have vanished, it was understandable and regrettable.

One word would sound in her mind, soft, whispering and yet as the syllables made their rounds it would echo, cascade within her yet fragile mind and make her more alert to the message spoken. Though it wasn’t much of a message yet, he supposed.

‘Ibaris.’​

 

[Lassiter]

Eriadu. After being pestered enough by the notorious leader of the Exhcange [member="Khaleel Malvern"] that Sena didn’t do enough work for them since she’d started keeping tabs on the Coruscanti underground there was little she could do but help him out on just this one blue milk run. Call it a token of appreciation or something. While not one to actually have any proper contacts on Eriadu there was nothing that spelled opportunity like the on-going galaxy-wide chaos.

Computer software and hardware was where a prominent player could make a fortune. Granted, their little crew so far wasn’t as much of a prominent player as a up-and-rising newcomer on the ‘market’ but when had that ever stopped them from trying?

In a recent move to expand to the very fringe of space the criminal duo had indeed managed to find reach Eriadu safely. Not that it was hard to be discreet when everyone around you wasn’t. For this one they would have received feigned identification papers, just in case people around here would question who they were.

“Don’t make it a habit to rely on me being able to provide you like this.” The ramp opened and they could exit their transport. “My sister would murder me if she found out about it.”

Yes she would, probably.

Now, why where had would they go from here? Eyes went looking for Khaleel.

“You’re still in charge though. Lead on, bossman.”

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Riding with the Fringe, taking over the galaxy. That was how it was supposed to work, right? Bringing assistance to worlds that could use it, even if they wouldn't admit it to themselves. For the trip out to Eriadu he was aboard the Dawn Treader. Warbird Wing was in a pretty solid state from the rapture, but really, he was here to consult with the team of snipers. The Nightstinger team, only six remaining, were some of the best snipers that Coren had the pleasure of knowing. The goal was simple, get them on the ground, and work on taking out the slavers.

Coren may not have been the best person in the galaxy, but he frelling hated slavers. And that meant he was going to get himself on the ground. It was also allowing the Dawn Treader to stay in orbit and start clearing up the shipyards. The former rogue Imperial team was working heavily with the Fringe and were going to do what they could for the ship yard.

Meant he was turning over space operations to Jared today.

When his Tiburon lifted off from the ship, he was escorted down to the planet by a quartet of the TIE/D fighters, while Warbird Wing launched out. Rushing to the planet surface, Coren was eyeing his weapons, a mid-range blaster rifle, and his lightsaber. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

When was the last time he shot something? Still, they didn't need that much air cover.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Mediation was the carrot. Ashin was the stick.

Obsidian Fleet exited hyperspace off a customs station half a parsec from Eriadu. Twenty-eight cloaked Star Destroyers, a host of missile cruisers, various shieldships, and the Chimaera. Word would reach Eriadu within minutes or hours, though the fleet would never enter the system. Sometimes the fist needed a velvet glove.

Trade began to scatter, but the fleet began transmitting, making it clear that they were here for anti-Reaver operations.

 

[Arage Bao]

Kal lit up a cigarette as they walked outta the ship, he listened with half an ear at the girl's complaints, but they both knew they were halfhearted at best. Sena loved doing this, or perhaps it was more accurate to say she loved the money involved. Which is what Khal told her, afyer puffing out some smoke.

"Ye, ye. I will forget to invite you next time we are in for the big haul." Wide smirk, that would probably rally her up right good. "How is the Sith business doing these days anyway?"

It was a subtle question, asked almost absentmindedly, but it was far from that. While pondering their presence here the scoundrel waited for a reply.

[member="Sena Lassiter"]

 

[Dr. Alset Niest]

Assist with Mediation...

"The development is almost perfect."

Keen old eyes looked intently into the multiple glass bottles strewn through the lab of the unnamed ship. There were over 4000, enough to appease even the most sour of moods. Most were stacked in cases, though some pulled out for testing. Some might suspect the identity of the ship as The Right Hand. They might be right, but that was hardly the concern of the scientist at hand. Sent here to aid in the endeavors of the Fringe and their issues with civilians disruptions on the ground, Alset decided to pull out his developing batch of sparkbee honey mead. With the numbers of Vong on the ship, this was both a delicacy and a danger. But he cared little for their woes. His lab assistant, a vong shaper pulled from the ranks, approached with a curious expression, obviously desiring to sample the wares.

"How much honey did you add to the alcohol?" Alset couldn't help but produce a soured face from the voice, though thankful for the Tizowyrm translation. He admittedly was disgusted by the use of Vong, by Reverance, as well as Titan Industries. However, with great power comes great funding, and the appropriation of resources for all sorts of vile and cruel experimentation. The processes right up the doctor's alley.

"19 pounds per 5 gallon batch. I had my technicians add it slowly over the course of a year." He pointed with the business end of his smoking pipe, equipped with a delicate balance of aging and naboo herbs and tobacco. "You see the clarity, the nearly translucent gold shine of the fluid? That is a result of the aging process, the yeast settling down at the bottom. This is a pure specimen of mead, sweet yet high in alcohol by volume. Just over 19%."

He approached a metallic table and scribbled some notes. "Call in the technicians and have them place the cargo on transport. Send it planet side. Perhaps the illusion of celebration will temper spirits." He looked at the shaper out of the corner of his eyes, glasses resting low on the nose. "And keep this away from the crab armors. The allergic reaction would be..." He feigned a smile, as if he actually cared about their livelihood. In truth, he merely feared the repercussions from the Lord of Pain, though fear wasn't the apropos terminology. He was weary of wasting time and nothing could be a bigger waste then being lectured by a man who thought he knew science, but in fact knew very little. Not much methodology left after punching the wall, it seems. "Troublesome? Yes, it would be troublesome. Now go along and fetch help for transport."

 

[Jared Starchaser]

His Wing wasn't at full power, but it was pretty solid right now. He knew that people were missing. Lia, for one, he hadn't seen her since this whole... FUBAR in the galaxy occurred. And that wasn't good for him. Jared Starchaser was one of those people who liked to know where his loved ones were. He liked to make sure he could see who he was protecting.

That was really why he was here, in the Fringe. They were protectors of the galaxy. Sure, maybe he wasn't nearly as powerful as the others in the Federation, but he had one thing he shared with them. His desire to protect the galaxy, that was the mission of the Dawn Treader after all. To protect the galaxy and make it safe for a fair government, while supporting Imperial rules. And with part of the Fel Empire moving to the Fringe? It was the most logical answer.

Walking through the ready room, which was near the hangar, the Commander of the Air Group watched the gathered. He nodded to each in turn. “Good morning, Birds. We're back out on the mission again. Admiral [member="Ashin Varanin"] has us hunting down the Reavers on the planets since the... whatever happened to the galaxy.” Yes, he wore a lightsaber and used the Force. No, he had no idea what was going on.

“We're on escort duty. Making sure our landers get down, make sure the trade isn't interrupted, and hunting down anyone who comes in to disrupt us. Nightstingers are on the ground, and we're going to be flying an odd array today. Two bio and two droid pilots per flight group. Hawks, you're going to be focused on taking down any ships entering the system. Peregrines, you're on me, we're running space supe, and Ospreys, you're on escort duty. Let's get moving.” Jared ordered as he hit the gavel on his podium and lead the group into the hangar.

Finding his way to his TIE Exalt, he warmed the craft up and announced to the battle group that the Warbird Wing was ready to enter the fray.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Obsidian Fleet, named for the throne she'd held the better part of a decade ago, was comprised largely of Attrition II-class star destroyers, each hibridium-cloak-equipped and carrying a payload of LACs. The Fringe navy's response to the disappearance of a large portion of its crew had been to reassign crewers posthaste, consolidating them into the most advanced and well-designed ships. Obsidian Fleet was one of the resulting battle groups, of which there were several.

 

[Via Dolorosa]

Objective: Dance With Reavers/Slavers​

Allies: Me, Myself, and I....and Us and Them.​

​

​

The Sith Knight had arrived on Eriadu to lend her services and resources to their allies, The Lords of the Fringe. She never had dealings with this lot before minus the fact her former Master, Matsu Xiangu, was a member of their organization. So when word reached her ears that their ally was in need of assistance in claiming Eriadu, the unstable Sith from Dagobah jumped in with both feet; ready to strike down any opposition. In this case, slavers and Reavers. She had sent enough slavers to an early grave, so many in fact she could boast that she had created an army of the dead; if Sith Magik was her path. Instead, she had her own personal troops to accompany her. The Nightshade Company.

With her hands clasped behind her back, she watched as her soldiers filed out from the transport and took up their positions, forming rows and slowly lowering their heads; a sign they respected her prowess on the battlefield. They had served with her long enough to know that she always gave a speech before going into battle. Snd today would be no different.

"Today we come to Eriadu not for the glory of the One Sith...but to aid our allies. You will conduct yourself as professionals even though we all know there is nothing professional about you lot." This earned her a round of cheers and smiles. "Our mission is simple...eradicate slavers and Reavers. And we ask you...do we take prisoners?" All in unison, 100 voices roared with one answer, "No!"


NPC

Spoiler

Location: Eriadu
Force: 100 Total.

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Join the Rave party
Allies: [member="Darth Venefica"] & her imaginary pals

___________________________________________________________​

'Friendship' was an alien concept to the firrerreo, and in all of her years she'd never managed to wrap her head around the absurd notion. From what she'd managed to glean from conversations and body language, the relationships between friends were all about making sacrifices without asking anything in return. How dumb is that? The very idea was rife with opportunities for betrayal, riddled with weakness and vulnerabilities that the cruel of the Galaxy would exploit in the blink of an eye.

Who would willingly open themselves like that?

Certainly not Vrag, that was for sure. Helping out allies, on the other hand, was something that she could get behind. Being in an alliance implied that the other party would lend that same assistance to you when needed, and while she had no idea if theirs was sealed with any sort of writ, the Fringe had come to their aid often enough to prove themselves worthy of a modicum of trust.

The least she could do was respect that. Besides, one of her favorite murder buddies, Iron Maiden, was an associate of the Fringe. She'd concluded long ago that ending up on the wrong side of those claws wasn't on her to-do list. The Sith Lord herself… well, that was another matter completely, and one she could ponder when she was done cracking skulls.

"Well, well, look who's here!" she called out to a familiar figure as she planted her boots into the soil of Eriadu. Behind her, more troops came down the metal ramp, a small squadron that she'd borrowed from Coruscant, leaving a post-it note and a few cookies for the higher-ups. Surely, they would understand.

"You ready to bash in some heads?" asked the armored Sith as she approached Darth Venefica and her Nightshade company.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Darth Venefica"] [member="Vrag"]

Somewhere around the start of his second decade of incarceration, Seren Ordavo had come to a conclusion whose implications amused him: he liked the creepy ones. The women with knives on their belts and blood in their teeth, the ones who didn't care much for convention or inhibition. This proclivity was not entirely unrelated to his decision to supervise two Knights of the One Sith, along with their personal troops. Such supervision was necessary (or so he was informed): the last time the Fringe had brought allies to Eriadu, those allies had been Vong, and prisoners had been butchered on holocam, and it had all been a dreadful embarrassment to those who could be embarrassed. And he respected the implications for public order and so forth, in an abstract sense. It was none of his business how much Eriadu liked being protected, and outside his interests to boot, but good things for Fringe meant better opportunities to hunt, and otherwise do the things that Seren liked to do. The Fringe constituted a satisfactory utility function, and a large part of that involved good solid knives.

Seren arrived on the scene by swoop bike, wordless. The Sith already had their targets -- Bando Gora reavers, mostly, the kind of chaotic interstellar Dark Side cultists that nothing could stamp out permanently. He'd tasted reaver blood at Bespin, and liked it. Monsters worth hunting, those ones.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Vrag"] | [member="Vrag"]

A second swoop bike deposited Nui Akuna, this time without a billboard hanging from his neck, thank god for that. He wasn't really all that interested in the two girls, mostly because whenever Seren was around Nui wasn't getting any ass, perhaps that was the way of the Galaxy, perhaps the shaved head really had some kind of magnetic attraction to the femine folk. The former Jedi didn't know, but once again resolved himself to figure it out on a later date, when they weren't busy slicing and cutting.

He checked his pivot blades one more time and then shot a look at what they were going to fight.

Hmm.

Well, at least there was going to be more than only slavers this time.

 

[Lassiter]

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

A small laughter parted her lips. “Point taken.”

“The sith business are, uh, well…” What was a good way to both describe something as terrifying yet exhilarating? “Interesting.” Close enough.

“Look, we can discuss me or we can discuss business. You wanted us to go here to Eriadu to find contacts. Well here we are.”

The walk went on for a bit. In the distance there was turmoil but frankly the sound of gunshots, shrieking and roaring had become everyday stuff the last few weeks. Okay, maybe not the roaring, but hey, this place had guards. Or something. Besides, they were both capable people; a beast wouldn’t stop them.

As long as it was, you know, as big as a womp rat.

“So who are you taking me to see? It better not be some sweaty, smelly geek or something.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Obsidian Fleet rested on the Corellian Trade Spine, within spitting distance of the Hydian Way. Hangars began to open, and instead of strike craft and LACs, transports emerged, each carrying monitoring satellites -- some for realspace, some to be moored in hyperspace. One by one, the transports pulled away from the Star Destroyers' hangar bays. Some were being sent out to [member="Jared Starchaser"]'s neck of the woods; others were bound for other points along and near the Hydian and the Spine, both coreward and rimward of Eriadu. Not an especially complex undertaking, apart from the standard logistical concerns involved -- making sure the right transports got sent to the right coordinates -- and Fringe LAC coordinators were very good at keeping those kinds of lists coordinated mothership to mothership. Ashin observed it all from her command throne, near [member="Spencer Jacobs"]. She'd set the ball rolling; now it would keep going, enemy permitting.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Eriadu -- not a place she'd been before, and frankly not one that mattered much to her. Frankly, the only reason she was here at all was for the sake of keeping up appearances as a member of the One Sith. A covert member of the One Sith, so 'appearances' might not have been the word. The people that mattered knew who she was, and would know she'd been here, and that would be that.

Well, not the only reason, now that she thought about it, flying her Rassilon on anti-reaver patrol. A memory was swimming up to the fore -- a memory from another life, Velok's life. Presiding over a wedding on Varunda Nine, not far from here -- the wedding of Spencer Jacobs and Ashin Varanin. She'd worked with Jacobs later, reconstructing a Phobis device. Tenuous ties in general, but maybe they didn't have to be.

And then there was the older memory, close to a century back: the taste of Bando Gora flesh.

 

[Caulder Dune]

Objective: Negotiate with Reasonable Reavers and Pleasant Pirates via Concentrated Turbolaser Fire

Darzu, a Wyyrlok-Class Star Destroyer. Named after Adekos' favorite Sith Lady, and designed in such a way that he was utterly infatuated with. It was such a relief on the eyes compared to those normally wedge-shaped star destroyers and their ilk. Then again, the wedge was probably for tactical reasons, whereas the Wyrrlok's shape was more for style, he would wager. It mattered little. Victory without style was meaningless. Adekos reflected on this as his ship chased down a badly mangled enemy star destroyer to the fringes of the system, bombarding it with turbolaser fire as it bid its hasty retreat.

"I've offered them the chance to surrender several times." Adekos commented aloud, just as a concussion missile blew off a chunk of engine from the enemy star destroyer. "What is wrong with these people?"

"Should we cease fire?"

"And let them continue their life of sordid crime? I think you've forgotten who you're talking to. Full power to the forward cannons, please."

 

[Ibaris Varanin]

Aboard the Chimaera

She'd been reading again. Strange, in the well-up of companion chaos to the galactic vanishing act she felt as if she was getting more reading done than she had when life was a lot more secure, when she had no concerns about what days, months, or years her family had left in being together, existing as a unit at all. As for the reading? She hadn't seen it for what it was yet, in this context: a distraction from the worry. Even so, it'd become one way to work on getting things done, a method that had worked since she was a kid, and she was simply used to the process of theory-then-practical.

Except for the fact that there was a whole area of practical that was simply chance for disaster in attempting it right now and that hurt for the reason that it'd been the strongest thread that had bound them together. She couldn't expand on or even practice that which she knew, that which she had learned from her uncle without tempting fate itself. The practice of alchemy in her life was the act of honouring memories and not letting go to waste what was seen as an inherent gift. So that was what she spent a lot of time looking into and reading about, even if she could do nothing with the knowledge.

What she wasn't expecting was the single word that came into her head:

‘Ibaris.'

And her fingers tightened around the edges of the datapad in her hands. That... it 'sounded' so familiar. Her bottom lip shook for a fraction of a moment.

'U...Uncle Jared?'

She wasn't sure. She had to be hearing things. After all the grief she had to just be hearing things she wished she could still hear. A scared hope and disbelief welled up in her chest, and lightly shaking hands lowered the 'pad into her lap.

[member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Gatecrashing the Rave party
Allies: [member="Nui Akona"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Darth Venefica"] | [member="Darth Adekos"]

__________________________________________________________​

She had her troops hold fire as two more joined their little group, her blue eyes scanning the newcomers. Neither was very talkative, but she could work with that just fine. Words weren't necessary for what they were about to do; in fact, they were often more of an annoyance in such situations. Background noise. Coping mechanism. Call it what you will, but conversation had no place in any real battle, and by the looks of it, this one would fit the bill quite nicely.

With one last glance at the two men, Vrag turned back to her platoon and ordered them to move out, advancing on the enemy positions. They had superior arms, armor and discipline, and the Knight held little doubt about the outcome of this bout. In a few hours, the cultists would be reduced to nothing more than a footnote in the annals of history, a speck of ink to commemorate that time when the Sith and their allies had strewn their entrails across the plains.

Silly, silly Bando Gora.

 

[Caulder Dune]

Objective: Negotiate with Reasonable Reavers and Pleasant Pirates via Concentrated Turbolaser Fire

Frankly, Darth Adekos did not care for the Fringe. Once upon a time, he had outright hated these people. Nothing more than rabble, he was convinced. But then the threat of them issuing sanctions and threats against the Confederacy of Independent Systems had cowed that unsavory personality cult out of invading the Black Sun Syndicate. To derail that personality cult Verd had formed from invading a weak enemy clearly incapable of defending itself clearly meant they were a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Kaine Zambrano called the Fringe home and allowed it to host his Empire. Surely, then, it couldn't be all that bad?

They were still rabble. The dirty unwashed kind. And they lacked the strong, centralized government Adekos craved. But they were allies of the One Sith, and far be it for Adekos to avoid fulfilling his obligation as an ally by not tendering assistance where it was due.

"Have they blown up yet?"
"Not yet. They're slowing down."
"Give them one more chance. Tell them I'm begging them to just belly-up already."
"Yessir."

Adekos cracked his fingers, one by one. This was turning out rather dull, so far.