Kaelon Virex
Character
Kael straightened. "So we have a mole."
Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Public Lashes, Lies & Low Frequencies
- Thread starter Sommer Dai
- Start date
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- Tags
- gilded lies nar shadaa sommer
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew nodded once. "Or worse — a Ghost sympathizer."
Kaelon Virex
Character
Brenna folded her arms. "Someone mind explaining what exactly you three are hiding? Because if my brother's gone missing... I think I deserve to know what he was doing here."
Kael gave her a long look. "You're right."
Kael gave her a long look. "You're right."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer cut in sharply. "Kael—"
Kaelon Virex
Character
But Kael smiled. "He's dead."
A silence broke open.
Brenna stared at him, stunned.
"He choked," Kael continued, casual as carbon scoring. "On stuffed bantha pepper. Terrible dish. The chef's been flogged."
Brenna's face twisted. "That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking," he said, now fully serious. "But we were. About hiding things. So if you really want answers... you're going to need to stick around."
A silence broke open.
Brenna stared at him, stunned.
"He choked," Kael continued, casual as carbon scoring. "On stuffed bantha pepper. Terrible dish. The chef's been flogged."
Brenna's face twisted. "That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking," he said, now fully serious. "But we were. About hiding things. So if you really want answers... you're going to need to stick around."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stepped closer, her voice quiet now.
"Duke Verlo died in this club. And someone—someone—is watching to see what we do about it."
Brenna turned toward her slowly.
Then nodded. "Then let me help. I want whoever did it."
"Duke Verlo died in this club. And someone—someone—is watching to see what we do about it."
Brenna turned toward her slowly.
Then nodded. "Then let me help. I want whoever did it."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew's jaw clenched, his mind already back in his HUD.
"We've got about thirty minutes before whoever planted that feed scrubs their trail for good."
"We've got about thirty minutes before whoever planted that feed scrubs their trail for good."
Kaelon Virex
Character
Kael adjusted his jacket.
"Then let's go hunting."
"Then let's go hunting."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
A private dressing room backstage in the Gilded Veil. Just past the hum of music and murmured gossip, the door shuts, muffling the outside world. The air smells faintly of roses and ozone.
Sommer sat on a velvet stool by a vanity. The mirror lit her face in fractured prisms, catching on the gleam of her cheekbones and the storm still behind her eyes. Her fingers rested on her thigh, one hand hovering near a concealed blade stitched beneath the hem of her robe.
Behind her, Brenna Verlo closed the door slowly, then leaned her back against it.
"So," Brenna said coolly, "are we done pretending?"
Sommer didn't turn around. "Pretending what?"
"That Duke Verlo was my brother."
A pause.
Then Sommer looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Go on."
Brenna smirked. She walked deeper into the room, trailing a finger along the back of a crimson chaise.
"I was hired under the pretense of being his sister, yes. It makes investigations easier. Gets you sympathy. Access. But I'm not blood. Never was. I'm a cleaner. A closer."
Sommer's jaw clenched. "Assassin."
"Private contractor," Brenna corrected gently, crouching to examine a jeweled perfume bottle. "Trained by the Goss Method. Three tours in the Black Orchid Syndicate. I only kill people who deserve it... or those I'm paid very, very well to erase."
"Then why are you here?" Sommer demanded.
Brenna stood again, slower now.
"I came to tie off a thread. Duke Verlo went rogue. He knew something he shouldn't. Someone hired me to track his final movements. See if he left... witnesses."
Sommer stood. "If I was a target, you'd already have tried."
"You're not," Brenna said. "At least, not yet. You intrigue me."
Sommer's hand hovered just shy of the blade's hilt.
"Careful. I'm done being toyed with."
Brenna smiled with that same unsettling calm. "Good. That makes us similar."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew stood before a wall of holographic screens, cables coiled into his arm jack. Sweat beaded at his brow as he tapped into one feed after another—until finally, bam—a ghost signature flared to life.
Encrypted overlay. Flickering identity ping. Just for a second.
Signal traced.
Andrew's eyes widened.
Alias matched. Interior badge confirmed.
He spoke under his breath, audio routing to Kael's earpiece.
Encrypted overlay. Flickering identity ping. Just for a second.
Signal traced.
Andrew's eyes widened.
Alias matched. Interior badge confirmed.
He spoke under his breath, audio routing to Kael's earpiece.
Kaelon Virex
Character
Kael turned sharply in the sea of bodies, eyes scanning. Strobe lights flicked across the sweat-slicked dance floor—gold, red, violet.
Then he saw him.
A tall man with buzzed hair and tan skin moved through the crowd with uncanny speed, his expression blank, deliberate. Blue waistcoat. Nametag.
Danno Fiik.
Kael muttered, "Got you."
He pushed forward.
The imposter clocked him—and bolted.. Kael gave chase.
Rain poured down as Kael followed "Danno" through the narrow alleys and steam vents of Nar Shaddaa's lower city. Neon signs bled into puddles. Junkers shouted curses as the pair barreled through side passages.
Kael vaulted a crate, hit the ground running.
"Danno" twisted through a market tunnel, knocking over carts, spilling fruit and spice into the gutter. He glanced back once, saw Kael gaining—and drew a knife.
Kael grinned, feral.
"Oh, now we're playing."
Then he saw him.
A tall man with buzzed hair and tan skin moved through the crowd with uncanny speed, his expression blank, deliberate. Blue waistcoat. Nametag.
Danno Fiik.
Kael muttered, "Got you."
He pushed forward.
The imposter clocked him—and bolted.. Kael gave chase.
Rain poured down as Kael followed "Danno" through the narrow alleys and steam vents of Nar Shaddaa's lower city. Neon signs bled into puddles. Junkers shouted curses as the pair barreled through side passages.
Kael vaulted a crate, hit the ground running.
"Danno" twisted through a market tunnel, knocking over carts, spilling fruit and spice into the gutter. He glanced back once, saw Kael gaining—and drew a knife.
Kael grinned, feral.
"Oh, now we're playing."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stepped closer to Brenna. "So what now? You going to tell me who hired you?"
Brenna tilted her head. "Wouldn't be very professional of me. But I will say this... the same person who paid for Duke Verlo's death might be the one who just tried to spy on you. Whoever they are, they have reach. And they don't like people who say no."
Sommer's eyes darkened. "Then maybe it's time someone said no louder."
Brenna tilted her head. "Wouldn't be very professional of me. But I will say this... the same person who paid for Duke Verlo's death might be the one who just tried to spy on you. Whoever they are, they have reach. And they don't like people who say no."
Sommer's eyes darkened. "Then maybe it's time someone said no louder."
Kaelon Virex
Character
Kael was fast — faster than most who'd ever tried to run from him. His coat snapped behind him like wings, and his boots slammed into the alleyway in perfect rhythm with his breath.
The imposter — "Danno" — hit a hard corner and slipped, stumbling into a trash bin before vaulting it, wheezing now, but still sprinting.
Kael grinned as he caught up. "Almost like you weren't trained for this."
The imposter glanced back with a twisted smile. "Was trained for this, though."
He spun mid-run, skidding to a stop with unnatural precision, and spat a stream of dark mist into Kael's face.
Kael cried out — the chemical burning through his eyes like acid-laced ash. He staggered back, slamming into the alley wall, palms to his sockets as everything turned to searing white.
"Poison?" he gasped. "You slimy—"
He dropped to one knee, blinking furiously, vision smeared in fire and static.
The imposter turned to bolt—
The imposter — "Danno" — hit a hard corner and slipped, stumbling into a trash bin before vaulting it, wheezing now, but still sprinting.
Kael grinned as he caught up. "Almost like you weren't trained for this."
The imposter glanced back with a twisted smile. "Was trained for this, though."
He spun mid-run, skidding to a stop with unnatural precision, and spat a stream of dark mist into Kael's face.
Kael cried out — the chemical burning through his eyes like acid-laced ash. He staggered back, slamming into the alley wall, palms to his sockets as everything turned to searing white.
"Poison?" he gasped. "You slimy—"
He dropped to one knee, blinking furiously, vision smeared in fire and static.
The imposter turned to bolt—
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
FWOOOOOSH—
A sonic boom cracked through the alley.
A metallic blur tore through the rainclouds above, jets flaring gold and blue in the narrow dark.
Clad in his full exo-frame, armor gleaming like a nightmare given shape, he descended like a hammer of judgment, voice amplified through his suit's vocoder.
"NOT TONIGHT."
With a pulse of energy from his repulsors, Andrew slammed into the imposter from above — WHAM — smashing him into the pavement so hard the ferrocrete cratered. The spy jerked, stunned, breathless, his head bouncing off the impact point.
Andrew landed in a crouch, the rain hissing off his shoulders, his eyes burning with blue HUD light.
"Kael," he barked. "Talk to me."
A sonic boom cracked through the alley.
A metallic blur tore through the rainclouds above, jets flaring gold and blue in the narrow dark.
Clad in his full exo-frame, armor gleaming like a nightmare given shape, he descended like a hammer of judgment, voice amplified through his suit's vocoder.
"NOT TONIGHT."
With a pulse of energy from his repulsors, Andrew slammed into the imposter from above — WHAM — smashing him into the pavement so hard the ferrocrete cratered. The spy jerked, stunned, breathless, his head bouncing off the impact point.
Andrew landed in a crouch, the rain hissing off his shoulders, his eyes burning with blue HUD light.
"Kael," he barked. "Talk to me."
Kaelon Virex
Character
Kael groaned from the wall. "Still breathing. Just not seeing."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew flicked his wrist, launching a stasis cuff from his gauntlet that snapped around the spy's wrist with a clink and powered seal.
"Nice try, jackass," he growled. "Next time, don't poison the family."
The imposter gurgled through a split lip, dazed. "You're too late... he's already inside..."
Andrew narrowed his eyes. "Inside what?"
But the spy's eyes fluttered.
The stasis cuff hissed — systems scrambled.
Self-destruct protocol active.
Andrew's suit blinked red.
"Damn it—!"
He kicked off into the air just as the spy's body flared with internal combustion, contained but violent. The man's form went rigid, then crumpled — lifeless.
Andrew hovered above, watching, smoke curling upward.
"Sommer," he said into the comm. "We've got a breach inside the Veil. This was just a message."
"Nice try, jackass," he growled. "Next time, don't poison the family."
The imposter gurgled through a split lip, dazed. "You're too late... he's already inside..."
Andrew narrowed his eyes. "Inside what?"
But the spy's eyes fluttered.
The stasis cuff hissed — systems scrambled.
Self-destruct protocol active.
Andrew's suit blinked red.
"Damn it—!"
He kicked off into the air just as the spy's body flared with internal combustion, contained but violent. The man's form went rigid, then crumpled — lifeless.
Andrew hovered above, watching, smoke curling upward.
"Sommer," he said into the comm. "We've got a breach inside the Veil. This was just a message."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer's hand tightened around the blade at her side, as Brenna calmly turned toward the mirror.
"What is it?" Brenna asked.
Sommer's eyes narrowed, her voice tight with fury.
"What is it?" Brenna asked.
Sommer's eyes narrowed, her voice tight with fury.
Mann Dawncaster
G.H.O.S.T.
Undisclosed location —
Nar Shaddaa underlevels. A forgotten broadcast tower repurposed as a covert observation hub, lined with relic tech and scrapped droids. One wall is alive with flickering holo-feeds, many showing blurred angles of the Gilded Veil — its dancers, backrooms, corridors. Others are darker. Deeper.
A lone figure sits in the low, flickering glow.
He doesn't move much. Doesn't need to.
The mask is off revealing a jaw chiseled by time and war. Scars lace his temple, like static carved into flesh. His eye, the one still human, watches the screen where Kael is seen screaming, blinded. Another feed glitches with Andrew rocketing upward, flames trailing.
GHOST.
Real name: Mann Dawncaster.
Codename: myth, threat, and whisper.
To some, a ghost.
To others... a reckoning.
He leans forward now, slowly twisting a ring on his index finger. The metal gleams with a sigil — one tied to the forgotten Clone-era assassin cadre known as The Shroud Protocol.
A voice behind him crackles through a distorted vocoder. Female. Monotone.
Nar Shaddaa underlevels. A forgotten broadcast tower repurposed as a covert observation hub, lined with relic tech and scrapped droids. One wall is alive with flickering holo-feeds, many showing blurred angles of the Gilded Veil — its dancers, backrooms, corridors. Others are darker. Deeper.
A lone figure sits in the low, flickering glow.
He doesn't move much. Doesn't need to.
The mask is off revealing a jaw chiseled by time and war. Scars lace his temple, like static carved into flesh. His eye, the one still human, watches the screen where Kael is seen screaming, blinded. Another feed glitches with Andrew rocketing upward, flames trailing.
GHOST.
Real name: Mann Dawncaster.
Codename: myth, threat, and whisper.
To some, a ghost.
To others... a reckoning.
He leans forward now, slowly twisting a ring on his index finger. The metal gleams with a sigil — one tied to the forgotten Clone-era assassin cadre known as The Shroud Protocol.
A voice behind him crackles through a distorted vocoder. Female. Monotone.
Ghost doesn't turn. "He served his purpose."
"Blind, for now. That will open different doors."
He presses a button and brings up a live feed.
Sommer Dai.
Alone now. Still in the dressing room. Still with Brenna — who he knows is straying from her assignment.
His gloved fingers tighten.
"Not soon enough," Ghost murmurs. "I've seen how their rhythm works. Always a delay. Always a beat missed between them."
He lifts a thin data-stick and slides it into a corrupted slicer console. A schematic appears: The Gilded Veil — Sub-Level 4. Off-grid. Archived. Buried.
"You've been trying to break in from above," the vocoder voice says.
Ghost stands now. Slowly. Cold and calm.
"But she was always going to fall from beneath," he replies.
He looks toward the screen — Sommer's image alone, her shadow flickering as she steps out of the dressing room.
"There she goes," Ghost says with something dangerously close to admiration. "Like a moth tracing flame with memory."
He lifts a comm-piece from the table and speaks into it, voice low:
A pause. He smiles
He shuts the feed off.
And in the flickering dark, Ghost vanishes in silence
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
A dancer in silver heels approaches Sommer quickly, breathless.
"Ma'am—someone's found something beneath the club. An old vault under the maintenance lift just went active. Thought you should know."
Sommer's brow furrows.
Beneath?
Her instincts prick. But with Kael recovering, Andrew off-site securing the streets…
She was alone.
Exactly how he wanted her.
"Ma'am—someone's found something beneath the club. An old vault under the maintenance lift just went active. Thought you should know."
Sommer's brow furrows.
Beneath?
Her instincts prick. But with Kael recovering, Andrew off-site securing the streets…
She was alone.
Exactly how he wanted her.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
The elevator creaks. It wasn't meant for elegance. Bare bones. Industrial. Reeking of rust and powerlines. Sommer Dai stands alone inside, her reflection fractured in the corroded steel plating around her. One hand rests on the hilt of a stiletto tucked at her side, the other gripping the emergency override panel she forced open five minutes ago.
No music. No voices. No backup.
Her comms chirp. A message from Andrew pings — unread.
She doesn't check it.
Instead, she breathes.
In…
Out…
The air gets colder the deeper she descends. Harsher. Less filtered. Like the building itself is exhaling something old and sour.
The lift halts with a thud.
Door screeches open.
Sommer steps out into darkness.
The lighting is faint, emergency-grade — long-dead glowstrips blink in broken rhythm, casting pale gold across long-abandoned walls scrawled with ancient maintenance codes, forgotten syndicate glyphs, and something newer — black spray patterns in jagged looping script she doesn't recognize.
She steps forward. Her heels echo.
Then—click.
A soft light flickers ahead.
It illuminates a hallway lined with tattered velvet wallpaper and broken security holos that once displayed Veil girls' schedules from decades ago.
Someone had been down here.
Recently.
Sommer kneels by a patch of disturbed dust. A footprint. Narrow boot. Not hers.
Her voice barely more than a breath: "You wanted me here."
Another hallway opens, leading toward a round door made of matte-black alloy. It hums faintly. Active. It had never been visible in the club's structural records.
Engraved in the center of the door:
"VESSEL / VOID / VOICE"
Sommer traces the words.
Then a voice echoes behind her. Familiar.
Smooth.
Fractured.
No music. No voices. No backup.
Her comms chirp. A message from Andrew pings — unread.
She doesn't check it.
Instead, she breathes.
In…
Out…
The air gets colder the deeper she descends. Harsher. Less filtered. Like the building itself is exhaling something old and sour.
The lift halts with a thud.
Door screeches open.
Sommer steps out into darkness.
The lighting is faint, emergency-grade — long-dead glowstrips blink in broken rhythm, casting pale gold across long-abandoned walls scrawled with ancient maintenance codes, forgotten syndicate glyphs, and something newer — black spray patterns in jagged looping script she doesn't recognize.
She steps forward. Her heels echo.
Then—click.
A soft light flickers ahead.
It illuminates a hallway lined with tattered velvet wallpaper and broken security holos that once displayed Veil girls' schedules from decades ago.
Someone had been down here.
Recently.
Sommer kneels by a patch of disturbed dust. A footprint. Narrow boot. Not hers.
Her voice barely more than a breath: "You wanted me here."
Another hallway opens, leading toward a round door made of matte-black alloy. It hums faintly. Active. It had never been visible in the club's structural records.
Engraved in the center of the door:
"VESSEL / VOID / VOICE"
Sommer traces the words.
Then a voice echoes behind her. Familiar.
Smooth.
Fractured.