Mission of Mercy (Incursion, by Invite Only)

[Ruby (Incursion)]

"Hello, and welcome aboard the ​Troubador!"

​​The brassy, metallic voice rang out like a trumpet in the otherwise silent embarkation chamber. As one might expect from the ship that proclaimed itself the Finest Travelling Theater in the Galaxy™, the room was a study in gaudy opulence, a monument to the monumental success of the theatre troop that ran it.

The floor, which our intrepid explorers would find themselves resting on, was covered in thick, obscenely plush carpeting, colored a deep maroon. The room was large, easily thirty meters to a side, and four meters tall. The walls were old school plaster, painted white, and kept sparkling clean. Crown molding, gilded rather than painted, hid the seams where they connected with the ceiling.

The ceiling appeared to be a mural at a glance, but a closer look would reveal that it was an intricately layered hologram that subtly moved as one's perspective changed. It displayed a scene from a popular drama from the Golden Age of Taris, in which the protagonist, a prince out for revenge for his murdered father, killed his uncle and his dead girlfriend's brother, before succumbing to poison himself. Not, perhaps, the cheeriest scene, but it was famous, and replicated in exquisite detail.

The walls were lined with paintings and tapestries depicting other famous scenes from well known plays. To a collector with a keen eye, it was a veritable treasure trove, as many of the works were originals from famous artists that any proper museum would commit heinous crimes for the privilege of adding to their collection. Closer inspection would reveal the walls were carefully protected by an energy shield that gave them a comfortable six inch's separation from the grubby hands of tourists.

There were no traditional ticket booths. One could only board if they already had a ticket, so the ​Troubadour's ​owners had decided to cut them out entirely. Instead, the embarkation room funneled its occupants to a large set of double doors on the opposite end. Though the doors appeared to be made of wood, they were in actuality military grade blast doors covered in a thin veneer. They were intended to be a security measure against pirates, and were thoroughly locked.

"I've got to tell you, guys, I sure am glad to see your happy smiling faces," the brassy voice continued with impossible cheer. It appeared to be coming from a perfectly round silver orb, floating in the air above the waking adventurers. As it spoke, a hologram coalesced around it, giving the droid the appearance of a painfully handsome human male, dressed in nothing but a white toga.

"It really was swell of you to answer our distress beacon. A friend in need is a friend indeed, and boy, we're in need of some good friends right now. So if you're all done with your naps, follow me and we'll head into the ship proper. The survivors have gathered near the main stage, and they're going to be awful happy you guys showed up."

The toga-clad hologram smiled beatifically, arms outstretched, welcoming.

"My name is Mercutio, and I'll be your guide. Feel free to take a moment to get your bearings, but remember folks, time's a wasting."

Everyone in the party had their own reasons for being there, but they had one thing in common: out of the blue, they had received a cry for help. ​Meet the shuttle on Rishi, it'll pick you up and bring you to our ship. We're trapped and running out of time.​ ​We've credits and treasures and you're welcome to whatever you can take, just please, for the love the Force, get us out of here.

Shortly after the shuttle took off, they had been rendered unconscious by means unknown. They would awaken in the on the floor of the embarkation chamber, bereft of weapons and with splitting headaches.

"Sorry about your weapons, guys" their holographic guide continued. "Unfortunately, the Troubadour​ has a strict no weapons policy. Your gear will be returned when you leave."

[member="Lady Kay"]
[member="Travis Caalgen"]
[member="Dass Tallav"]
[member="Kyle Raymus"]
[member="Cacak Tarn"]
[member="Lark"]
[member="Lily Kuhn"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

It was the voice that woke her from unconsciousness. Sound was the first sense of the six to be awoken. Sight followed, or rather it was more like tunnel vision that slowly became more normal as the seconds passed. Then came her sense of touch. It started at her head at first, then moved like a gentle wave through the rest of her body. It was then that Kay realized that she was lying on her stomach on a plush carpeted floor. She slowly sat up, her head pounding with the movement. A quick look around revealled that she wasn't by herself. There were others nearby, each on different stages of waking up. What had happened? How did they get there?

The craft that they were in was certainly a luxury model. All of the artwork, the ceiling, and even the appearance of their 'host' suggested as much. As Mercutio went on about survivors needing help it all came back to her. The distress signal, the fact that she wasn't far away and couldn't just ignore it. Kay had a habit of being impulsive at times and it didn't tend to work in her favour. Was this going to be one of those times too?

She got to her feet then and looked to Mercutio. Being stripped of weapons wasn't entirely a good thing. If they were very thorough than they'd of found her hold-out pistol in her sleeve. Would she be able to use the Force? Such an ability was a secret, moreso for the reason of politics than anything else. For the moment, she didn't attempt anything. "Main stage? Why are we being brought onto a stage instead of using this shuttle to transport the survivours out?" A bad feeling grew in the pit of her stomach while the headache started to subside. She had found her way into trouble again.

[member="Ruby"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Dass Tallav"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Cacak Tarn"] [member="Lark"] [member="Lily Kuhn"]

 

[Lark]

"I've got to tell you, guys, I sure am glad to see your happy smiling faces."

Whoever you are, I'm going to kill you as soon as I'm able. With unfocused eyes and confused motions, Lark groggily rubbed the back of his head. He had never been one for drinking, but he imagined this was what an unendurable hangover would feel like. His head was ringing, multi-colored specks of light danced around his vision, welcoming him into the waking world. He let himself lay down for a few moments and gather his senses, he always found that sitting up in a panic would only serve to cause further discomfort. And besides, the carpet was at least comfortable. He still wasn't accustomed to sleeping in a bed, let alone something this fine.

He trailed his pale finger through the carpet, colored a deeper red than his hair, listening to the words that were spoken to them. Others were fluttering awake in discomfort, similarly confused. His headache only grew worse, but he doubted it was because of whatever means rendered him unconscious. With every word this Mercutio spoke, the pain growing in the back of his head gnawed at him even more. Lark had been burned alive, covered nearly head to toe in a torrent of flames when he was but a child, and seared pink flesh still remained hidden underneath his clothes years later. Listening to Mercutio's speech was almost as great a torture as the fire had been. I deserve a lordship for enduring this, he thought.

Lark sighed when he heard that his weapons had been taken from him. He patted himself down, and sure enough his enchanted sword and dagger were nowhere to be found. Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time his weapons had been confiscated on a luxurious vessel, and he let out a weak chuckle. Lark and ships had never gotten along. Slowly, Lark stood and studied his surroundings. Ornate and gaudy, just like the carpet. The artwork was stunning, but given the circumstances he couldn't fully appreciate it. He stretched his back and heard a satisfying series of pops, and sighed in contentment. Another one of the captives spoke, inquiring about why they were not helping survivors. "For all we know, there might not be any survivors," Lark responded, with a voice as soft as fur. "Besides us, I suppose."

Sometimes, you simply got beat. Whoever these guys were, they got the drop on Lark, and he knew he was lucky to still find himself drawing breath. It was clear that they were still in danger, but if he could breathe he stood a chance of surviving whatever situation he found himself caught up in. He was torn between wanting to kill Mercutio and wanting to escape, but he knew he might not be able to do either on his own.

More than anything, vengeance was an act of patience. The ones who captured him would pay, but for the moment it would appear as he had no other option than to follow along with their little game. He smiled peacefully. For now, he'd let himself be led like a dog on a leash. But he'd uncover what was going on, and they'd realize what fools they were to make an enemy of him.

[member="Ruby"] [member="Lady Kay"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Dass Tallav"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Cacak Tarn"] [member="Lily Kuhn"]

 

[Cacak Tarn]

Cacak awoke from his 'nap' to the sound of two other voices. Whatever they had done to them to knock them out was really taking it's toll on the Kel Dor's head. He had a horrific headache - accompanied with blurred vision and dizziness. He hadn't been in this bad of shape since... The night before actually. He might've still been a tiny bit hungover...

The man sat up - rubbing the back of his head. "Ugh... You know there are alternative ways of confiscating our weapons without knocking us out - right?" Turning around to see who exactly he was adressing - Cacak was slightly shocked to see a man in a floating bubble. "Huh - nice bubble. Mind telling me where I can get one? It looks badass." He then turned around - inspecting the room closer.

Plush red flooring - ornate wooden walls and doors - decorated with what I assume to be valuable artifacts... I could get used to this. The man thought. Quite frankly - he had never been somewhere this posh and expensive - and he wasn't even dressed properly. "Wow... Nice place. You could've told me though - so I could've change into my silk suit and tie - and brought my pocket watch." It was quite obvious that the man was being sarcastic - he was wearing a trench coat for goodness sake.

As the others did - the man reached into his trenchcoat and patted himself down to see if any of his weapons were left. Nothing. How the hell did they get EVERYTHING? I mean... They must've looked everywhere - and I mean EVERYWHERE. Letting out a sigh, he took to his feet - listening to the conversation among the other captives. He knelt down beside them - whispering and trying to do his best to avoid arousing suspicion "The redhead's right. I have a really bad feeling about this. We need to stick together - the guy in the floating bubble gives of a really 'I'm an evil mastermind' kind of vibe. If we're gonna get out of here alive - we don't split up unless completely necessary. Oh - and I am finding a way to disable the shields on the walls at some point - this poodoo is worth some serious credits." He looked behind him - towards Mercutio smiling then back to the group. "Smile and wave - people. Smile and wave."

[member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Dass Tallav"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The walls and interiors were nice, he had to admit. The Stormtrooper stood tall, clad in his usual sniper regalia. He knew right away he didn't have the DMR he was carrying- because in all honesty, it was hard to lose a eight pound rifle that he was carrying. His armor was still on, which was a plus- he could consider his armored knuckles weapons he supposed. His helmet however- was gone. Probably tossed away somewhere. He'd get yelled at for that, at the very least.

He'd also hoped to get some sort of recuperation for his headache that he was suffering from. He stood up, and the blurriness subsided after a moment. He was on a ship. The ship he came to help- along with a team. Where was the team? He looked around. Probably somewhere else on the ship- he hoped. No telling what was really going on here.

Dass looked around and glanced at the others that were around him. Hopefully, they weren't going to take any particular hard feelings out on the first order on him. The sniper moved quietly, and simply decided to follow @Mercutio. No use talking- the trooper was used to silence anyway. He didn't feel like dealing with everyone else, also.

Main stage- prepare for the sideshow act of the galaxy's most tattooed stormtrooper.

[member="Cacak Tarn"] l [member="Lark"] l [member="Lady Kay"] l [member="Ruby"]

 

[Travis Caalgen]

It had been strange, to say the least.

He had been on Rishi when the distress call came through and offered to provide a small grouping of Imperial marines. But the droid would only let him aboard the shuttle, not even with his usual contingent of elite death troopers to accompany him. He had planned ahead, arming a tracker in his uniform and telling a cruiser to follow them one they were certain the shuttle had arrived at its location. It was moot now, as he and the others aboard were thrown into unconsciousness by something the Director didn't know about, the tracker and his weapons confiscated by their 'host', with the former probably destroyed.

All that was certain though is that he had the worst bloody headache in his lifetime, even trying to open his eyes opened him to immense pain caused by the lights. It reminded him exactly, too much so, of that one time when he was in the academy and went on a ten-hour drinking binge with friends. Caalgen heard movement around him, the others waking up from their own comatose state. The others began to spoke and he listened intently while he rolled onto his stomach and stood up.

The first thing he noticed that his famous white armorweave duster was gone, no longer attached to his uniform's collar. The second thing he noticed was the people around him, quite an odd mix; [member="Lady Kay"] of Commenor and several other people that he did not know. Travis directed his attention as a Kel'dor who he would come to know as [member="Cacak Tarn"] whispered to those who were awake. He unwarily eyed Mercutio and instinctively placed his hand near his empty holster.

"Agreed. I do not believe that the survivors are real either, but perhaps we should cautiously investigate just to make sure." Director Caalgen hissed, before moving to stand next to Lady Kay, bowing his head.

[member="Ruby"] | [member="Lark"]

 

[tsarwars]

Kyle woke up, his head ringing in horrible tones, and a show of vivid yet annoying colours was dancing in his eyes. His head was spinning and aching as though he was hit by a mallet. He stood up, shakily, like a man who was drinking the entirety of yesterday and the day before. Slowly, he came to his senses and his mind began whirring ,like it usually did. He looked around and was greeted by an overly decorated room, with a carpet so dense, it felt like walking in quicksand. The maroon tones were certainly pleasing, adding some royal flourish to the room. On the walls hung trinkets that were potentially worth millions, but being one who appreciates art, Kyle would certainly keep some of it, if he got his hands on the stuff, that is.

Once he finally stopped admiring the scene, and stopped to think about his situation, he remembered being knocked out by something. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but he sure didn't like it. He reached for his blaster, only for his hand to converge on nothing but air. He looked down at his holsters, but they were empty. He checked his grenade belt, which was also devoid of any explosives.

"Karabast! They want us to help them and they strip us of our weapons after knocking us out, and they're not even here to properly greet us! What is this?! Something doesn't add up"

Kyle mumbled those word angrily but quietly, so only those around him would hear. Amongst them were 5 people who were already awake. One of them, he knew. [member="Lady Kay"] was that person. He met her before, in a rather sticky situation where they opposed eachother, yet he bore her no ill will.

Around him stood a redhead, a stormtrooper, a diplomat, an Imperial officer and a Keldor. They all seemed to be aware of the fact that Kyle just spewed out. He turned and stared at Mercutio and awaited his words. Hopefully words of returning their weapons and long range comm units. That would be really nice about now.

They'd better stick together... or else they might have to pay in something other than loot and credits...

 

[Hailyn]

x

The scenery that she woke to was gaudy, even for her - although she made a mental note to get rid of the flashy comforter when she'd get home, assuming she did. Lily had been escaping her own demise when she'd responded to the call for help, the same sense of goodwill and adventure that she'd experienced during the Omega war kicking in when she had received the plea. If not for the bandages under her white top, and the dark stain that peaked out from beneath it, she probably wouldn't even have remembered what she had been doing before she ended up here.

And then there was that voice. It was obnoxious, worse than her father's attempt to read her and Rose stories when they were children and he would try to throw his voice, and it grated on her nerves even more than the migraine she was experiencing as she came to. On the plus side, it did look like she was the only person dressed for the occasion, although there was a good chance that would do more harm than good in the long run if the fact that she had to be knocked out and her pistol stolen from her said anything about the situation. "Collect our bearings, how cute." Lily said with a frown. It was a subtle jab at their predicament - serving to double as a metaphor in the more common use of the phrase - and she figured whoever it was behind all of this had taken quite a bit more pleasure in pulling the proverbial rug out from under their feet.

"Where is the person who sent out the distress call?" She asked, attempting to speak over the enthusiastic droid. Lily, of course, took the Kel Dor's advice and made a special attempt to stay as close to the rest of the group as possible. Judging by how everyone else looked, it appeared that she was the least capable of self-defense so sticking close was considerably more safe than not. Whoever this Mercutio person was, he wasn't winning any points with her by making pointless apologies. It wasn't like she was a great shot with a blaster pistol anyway, she just had the money, the means, and the conscience to help people out - any credits that she would have received would have gone somewhere else.

[member="Ruby"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Lark"] [member="Dass Tallav"] [member="Cacak Tarn"] [member="Lady Kay"] [member="tsarwars"] / [member="Kyle Raymus"]

 

[Ruby (Incursion)]

Mercutio beamed at his guests.

"I gotta hand it to you, those are some really great questions. I'll try to answer briefly, so we can get underway. The shuttle cannot meet us here. It contains your weapons, and weapons, of course, are not allowed aboard the Troubadour."

The hologram pointed to perhaps the only thing on the wall that wasn't worth its weight in precious metals: a placard that read clearly, in four different languages, "NO WEAPONS."

"Once we've got everybody, it'll meet us around at the departure chamber. Don't worry, your gear will be waiting, safe and sound. Why, the shuttle's even tailing us through hyperspace!"

For whatever reason, Mercutio seemed positively tickled about that fact. He was practically bouncing. Actually, he was bouncing, after a fashion. Though his form remained motionless, every few seconds, the hologram would blip for just a tiny fraction of a second, appear a few inches higher off the deck for a heartbeat or two, and then return to normal.

"The survivors, and lemme tell ya, there are a bunch of them, are holed up at the main stage because they've got this crazy notion that the ship is trying to kill them. Crazy, right?"

The hologram shrugged apologetically, looking everyone in the eye. Or at least, he tried to. As soon as he got to [member="Cacak Tarn"], however, he blinked out of existence altogether. The spherical projector wobbled in the air for a moment, before stabilizing. The hologram returned once the sphere stopped wobbling, but something was off. It was no longer a three dimensional projection, but instead, a flat and blue-tinged, like a standard communications hologram.

There was no sound, but his face was contorted as if in unimaginable agony.

The hologram flickered off again. This time, when it returned, it was back to normal.

"Sorry about that, folks! Must have been something I ate."

He patted his stomach dramatically, then gestured towards the doorway. They opened up, revealing a long, stark white corridor. It appeared to go on forever, but that was an illusion. The corridor was evenly illuminated, with no features to cast shadows or give it depth.

"If you'll follow me, we'll get on our way. I have to warn you, the accident damaged the ship's entertainment protocols. I've deactivated the ones I could, but I have to warn you, some might still be active. If you see something strange, feel free to ignore it. You won't be in any danger, folks. Scout's honor!"


[member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="tsarwars"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"] | [member="Dass Tallav"] | [member="Cacak Tarn"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Lady Kay"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

Kay clenched her jaw as [member="Lark"] softly spoke. His thoughts matched her own.

Others began waking up and it seemed that they equally had the same headache that she did. She looked to [member="Cacak Tarn"] as he spoke, nodding in agreement about sticking together. In situations like this it was far better to be in a group, rather than isolated. If there was trouble, they could help eachother. Her gaze shifted to the apparent stormtrooper, tattooed as he was. It wasn't often that one was seen without his helmet and by the look of his armour, [member="Dass Tallav"] was from the First Order. Looking about to others in the room, there seemed to be quite the variety, no doubt with very different skillsets. Was that on purpose?

Kay looked to [member="Travis Caalgen"] as he approached and bowed his head. She bowed hers in return, knowing the man by reputation. It is rumoured that he was Commenori, which doubled their chances of them helping eachother out, given that their governments were allied with one another. She was glad that he was there, someone that she knew that she could trust.

Everyone else, [member="tsarwars"] , [member="Lily Kuhn"] all seemed equally confused as to what was going on here. That worried Kay even more so and did nothing to alleviate her fear over being caught in some trap.

Mercutio started to speak then. His manners, movements, even the way in that he spoke only drew more questions. Most especially with the way that his projection changed.

Kay looked to those around her and kept her voice low. "I agree. It's best if we keep together. This is too strange. A ship that's out to kill it's passengers? I've heard of droids going awol, but an entire ship? That's unheard of..." She took a step towards Mercutio, but no further as she addressed him. "What accident damaged the entertainment protocols? What happened?"

[member="Ruby"]

 

[Lark]

Lark followed Mercutio, tagging along with the rest of the curious band of people, hands held harmoniously behind his back. He pondered on why the seven of them, consisting of an interesting mixture of soldiers, nobility, criminals, and diplomats, were brought here. He looked around to see if he recognized any of them, you never knew in this galaxy. He had ran into faces long forgotten before. But all the fellow prisoners, he was fairly certain that's what Mercutio believed they were, appeared new to him. And from what he could tell, he was the only dark-sider among them. He hadn't tried to use the Force yet, it was entirely possible that there were countermeasures against it that would not end well for him. Force Lightning was just an effective weapon as a blaster or lightsaber, and their irritating escort had made it undeniably evident that weapons were not permitted aboard the Troubador.

He stared Mercutio down as he looked at them, before the toga-clad man's gaze wandered to that of the Kel Dor man nearby. Mercutio suddenly vanished, and they were blessed with a moment of quiet, before the man reappeared with a grimace of absolute torture on his now two-dimensional face. Lark watched on with pleasure, a slight smile showing itself on his spectral face. "Did you do that?" he quietly asked [member="Cacak Tarn"] as Mercutio regained his previous form. "Can you do it again?"

He quietly agreed with the fact that they all needed to stick together. Once his parents were both dead and his brother abandoned him, Lark didn't believe that he could count on anyone but himself. Oddly enough, fighting alongside the Sith had taught him the values of a group of people working as a team. He was still getting accustomed to it, and while he wouldn't trust them, he could at least work alongside them for the time being. "It's like we're trapped in an old-fashioned mystery novel," Lark chuckled. "If nothing else, this should at least be intriguing."

[member="Lady Kay"] [member="Ruby"] [member="Lily Kuhn"] [member="tsarwars"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Dass Tallav"]

 

[Kyle Raymus]

The entire group stood up and followed Mercutio up a corridor. It looked endless, and it could be endless, for all Kyle knew. This place was weird. Their guide was no less strange than their situation, and that was not helping. The being flickered away once it looked at [member="Cacak Tarn"] but it returned soon enough. Kyle's mind was whirring, trying to figure out what caused the weird hologram malunfunction, but came up with nothing. He was the last one in the line of people walking down this seemingly endless corridor, but he could hear the stuff that was going on up front. [member="Lady Kay"] began asking Mercutio questions, probing him for answers on what was going on. A good idea in their situation. They needed to know as much as possible about this ship. And those entairtainment protocol malunfunctions... perhaps those are the reasons as to why the survivors were saying that the ship was trying to kill them? The galaxy has been troubled recently by a very strange droid rebellion. It called itself The Contignency. Having experienced first hand the destruction that it could cause, Kyle was on his lookout for more of these uprisings, if you could call them that.

"hey Mercutio, are the entertainment protocols operated by droid brains? Up to date ones?" Kyle inquired. He was trying to grab as much information on his predicament and was not wasting time. [member="Lark"] looked like he would be of use if they found themselves in a combat scenario. So did the stormtrooper. But Kyle was'nt sure about anyone else...

[member="Ruby"] | [member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"] | [member="Dass Tallav"]

 

[Cacak Tarn]

Darren took to his feet - going with everyone else - being funnelled down a corridor. Cacak didn't like corridors and being trapped in a small space with strangers and a possibly psychotic robot mastermind certainly did not help.

The Kel Dor kept quiet - for the first time in his entire life - up until the psycho robot flickered to reveal a terrifying face - and [member="Lark"] asked him a question.

"Not purposely... This is freaking me out big time..."

[member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Dass Tallav"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"] | [member="Ruby"]

 

[Ruby (Incursion)]

As Mercutio led the party onwards, he spared a glance towards the stragglers.

"I really can't say it would be a good idea to stick around, fellas."

The back wall of the embarkation chamber flickered out of existence. As it turned out, it was a hologram, covering a gaping hole in the side of the ship. A flickering blue energy field covered the hole, but it was clearly on its last legs. The edges of the hole didn't show any signs of carbon scoring, like one might expect from an explosion. Rather, it looked rather like someone had taken a giant pair of scissors and roughly cut it out, like a child trying to make a paper snowflake but failing miserably to follow the lines.

"As soon as we leave, we'll have to drop the containment field so the repair droids can get in here and do what they do best. But not to worry, that's the only major hole. The path we'll be taking through the ship is perfectly safe, and that's a promise you can take to the bank!"

The hologram shot them a blinding smile, perfect teeth in a perfect mouth that was just a smidgen too wide for comfort.

As the group entered the corridor, the doors sealed behind them. Like the rest of it, they were featureless and white. There was no visible light source in the long passage, and no sign of shadows. It seemed to be coming from all directions at once, and so evenly that a shadow never got the chance to form. This made perceiving depth quite tricky.

"hey Mercutio, are the entertainment protocols operated by droid brains? Up to date ones?"

In response to the question, Mercutio turned to [member="Kyle Raymus"] and spared him a withering glare.

"Our entertainment facilities are not controlled by droid brains. Rather, each entertainment experience is individually tailored by specialized techno-organic interfaces such as myself, in order to best provide the most exhilarating experience in the known galaxy."

He gestured around the corridor, and suddenly, they were standing at the bottom of a crystal clear sea, exotic fish swimming around them. Off to the right was a brilliantly colored coral reef, with achingly attractive and startlingly unclothed mermaids frolicking about. Another gesture, and they were standing on a vast grassy plain that stretched as far as the eye could see. To the left and the right stood armies, armies that any history buff would recognize as the Gungan and Trade Federation armies that had squared off on Naboo in the distant past. The scene changed again, and again, each vista more majestic than the last.

"As you can see, the Troubadour represents the cutting edge in holographic entertainment. Under more optimal circumstances, we'd blend that with the finest theatre troop the galaxy has ever known to elevate the experience to the sublime heights of theatrical glory. Unfortunately, we are having some problems, so we're going to try to keep things simple."

As if on cue, the holographic scene, this time a Life Day simulation high in the trees of Kashyyyk, abruptly vanished, plunging the group into total darkness. The emergency lights flickered on, casting a pale red glow over the group. If one looked closely at the walls, one could almost make out something written in red.

Don't trust the---

And then, without warning, the corridor was once more featureless and white.

"See what I mean? We don't want to strain things too much. If you'll follow along folks, the General Organa Memorial Observatory is ahead. I promise that's one show that's to die for."

[member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Cacak Tarn"] | [member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"] | [member="Dass Tallav"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

Kay's questions were left unanswered. But she was used to that. More often than not, even if she was heard, she wasn't listened to anyways, and then bad things tended to happen. So much for being a voice of reason. So much for being a ruler that didn't have half of the respect that she should. But she wasn't going to call people out on that as there was no point, especially with this lot.

[member="Lark"] caught her attention as he spoke and chuckled. She had to smirk as she readily agreed with him. In what little free time that she had to spare, Kay had often spent it reading mystery holo-novels. She loved them, soaked them up and would often times lose track of the time as she'd get lost in the stories. They were a great escape from her everyday stresses.

The others still had questions for Mercutio, and although she listened in, it was what [member="Cacak Tarn"] said that slowed down her steps. He was growing more nervous by the second which wasn't a good thing. Nervous people can sometimes make bad choices, letting their fears drive them instead of their intellect. Kay stepped in beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, speaking quietly to him. "We outnumber him, alright? We'll get through this together. I'm sure that we can get out of here once we learn more." Hopefully anyways.

The hole in the corridor did nothing but increase her worry. She removed her hand from Cacak's shoulder as Mercutio gave his excuse to usher them further ahead and at a quicker pace. It made her feel like a small animal in a rather large maze, being put through some kind of experiment to test her reactions.

The door slammed shut behind them and they were more or less trapped. Kay walked in a small circle and picked up on the strange room that gave them no shadows. Even their footsteps sounded hollow. Strange was the only word that she could think of.

Holographic sceneries soon began all around them, effortlessly changing from one to the next. They looked flawless and real, a stark contrast to the pure white. Suddenly all lights went out and Kay nearly froze in place. The emergency lights thankfully gave them something to get their bearings, but it was what was written that made the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach grow.

The lights came back on before she could fully read the message. She had to squint while her eyes readjusted to the bright light. Mercutio's last words echoed in her mind. The show to die for? That didn't sound very good. Kay was if course taking it in the very literal sense. "Stay close..."

[member="Ruby"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Dass Tallav"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Lily Kuhn"]

 

[Hailyn]

If she was confused before, Lily was certainly anxious now. A gaping hole in the side of the ship? There was no doubt in her mind that something far more sinister was at work here than just a group of rich socialites trying to get aid in a time of need. And that mention of the ship trying to kill them? She kept thinking back to where she'd gotten the wound in her side that she was still nursing back to health. Unlike a good portion of people who normally got caught in the middle of these kinds of conflicts, Lily wasn't a force user - not anymore. She'd left behind her lightsaber and the prospect of being a Sith for the chance of living a more normal life, even if being royalty was the closest thing to normal that she'd get.

And what did she get every time she tried to stick her neck back into the life she'd left behind? Well, if not for trying to enjoy some anonymous fun in an auction she wouldn't be sporting a sewn up hole in her side, she certainly wouldn't have been shot at by skeletal droids, and, more than likely, she wouldn't have taken a detour from heading back to Teta from that same incident to try to help people in a trip she thought would have taken an hour or two tops. What had started as an easy detour, a way to bring some positive light to her regime on Teta with the public, was now turning into what seemed like the start of a nightmare that made her turbulent early adult years pale in comparison.

[member="Lady Kay"] seemed to share her concern, as did practically everyone else in the group, but the idea of trying to get rid of their guide - no matter how dangerous he likely was - only meant accelerating whatever dangers were heading their way. She picked up her pace, having stuck to the rear of the group silently, observing as she normally did in these sorts of situations, so that she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Commenori queen. "Don't do anything abruptly." She whispered, her expression staying the same as it had prior - something her ridiculous social etiquette training finally came in handy for. She didn't know what was in store for them, but she knew, at least, more than she did about what was coming than what would happen if they suddenly tried to change their circumstances by getting rid of the guide.

Something she'd been taught while attending the Naval Academy at the College of Anaxes in her university days was that predicting your opponent's actions and the consequences of acting and not acting were of paramount importance - and, while this was certainly not a fleeting engagement, it was infinitely more important to make informed decisions rather than proclaiming to whatever sinister forces were at work that they knew what they were up against. It was better, for them, to let the enemy underestimate them than to alert them of their potential shortcomings. It was the flickering of the lights and the sudden display of red letters, particularly the word trust that jumped out at her, followed by his rather specific description of what was to come. She was learning, rather quickly, that it would have been far better for her to have pursued her training and followed in her mother's footsteps as a Sith lord rather than having sat back and relaxed on a throne - she wouldn't be as on edge now if not for that.

'Chit.'

[member="Lark"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Ruby"] [member="Dass Tallav"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Cacak Tarn"]

 

[Travis Caalgen]

Caalgen followed the group as they traveled through the corridor, standing close behind [member="Lady Kay"] and [member="Lily Kuhn"] and just being able to hear what the latter had whispered.

Keeping his calm and collected demeanor, commonplace for an Imperial officer, he listened to Mercutio describe things and change the scenery around them, several of them being recognizable by him. When the simulation vanished for a brief period, his sharp eyes noticed the writing on the wall before it reverted back to the same white as his uniform.

"Mercutio, what damaged this ship? I will have to write up a report after this and I need to know the facts." He asked, eyeing the hologram warily, his hands slightly twitching.

Something sinister was going on.

[member="Ruby"]

 

[Kyle Raymus]

The ragtag group walked into a room which was featureless and blank, in a word, boring, until holograms started to pop up. The scenery changed from the bottom of an ocean, full of wonderful fish, to the fields of naboo where the Trade Federation and the Gungan Army fiercely battled. Each time the scene changed, and every time it was more amazing than the last time. Finally, the hologram changed to depict Kashyyk, a world full of trees and wildlife, when the power went out. Then there was darkness. A few moments later, the emergency lights flickered on. They illuminated some writing on the wall. It was written in bright red, but Kyle couldn't make out what it said, only the word Don't-. Kyle knew that whatever that was was not a hologram. Holograms do not operate on emergency power, at least not usually. Then, as suddenly as it was gone, the power returned to the ship, and the writing was gone. Kyle rushed to the wall and wiped his hands along the place where the message was. It looked like it was written in blood, and if it was blood, it would be visible on his hands even if the hologram covered it up while it was on the wall. He looked at his hands to see...



OOC:Ruby please fill in what Kyle saw on his hands in your next post. I don't know the details of the story, and what that writing really was.

[member="Ruby"] | [member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Travis Caalgen"] | [member="Lily Kuhn"] | [member="Cacak Tarn"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Dass Tallav"]

 

[Ruby (Incursion)]

He looked at his hands to see...

...Nothing, really. A few dried flecks of something reddish, maybe a slight coppery smell, but whatever the medium was, it was long dried by now. Just as well, really. Before anyone had a chance to examine the writing too closely, Mercutio ushered them along the corridor.

"The General Organa Memorial Observatory was, of course, named after General Leia Organa. Many of the cast and crew are of Alderaanian descent, and they wanted to pay homage to one of their greatest heroes. The Observatory has since gone on to be one of our most popular shows, for reasons you're about to witness firsthand."

The hologram led them into what seemed to be a large, open chamber, roughly the size of a tennis court. It was hard to tell exactly how large the room was, because where there should have been walls, there were instead, stars. The walkway through the center of the room led to comfortable swivel chairs that would allow the person sitting in them to turn and face any direction they pleased without bumping into their neighbors. The walkway itself appeared to hang above a large gas giant, orbited by a lush green moon and the familiar broken silhouette of the second Death Star. Below the group, almost too small to make out, the Rebel and Imperial Fleets battled it out, tiny dots of light and bursts of color weaving around each other in a mesmerizing display.

"The Observatory offers the most complete visual record of the Battle of Endor ever compiled. A team of the galaxy's best historians, archaeologists, and cinematographers worked together for nearly three years to piece together sensor readings, gun cameras, security camera footage, eyewitness accounts, and much, much more to bring you the story in full, vivid detail. Top museums and universities have rated the accuracy of our simulation at 97%, which is astounding for events that happened over 800 years ago. No expense was spared in creating this exhibit, and now we bring it to you, however you like."

If anyone was inclined to vertigo, the sensation of falling might have been overwhelming if not for the deliberately solid platform they stood on as the point of view zoomed in on the space battle. It settled over a group of dogfighting starfighters, A-wings and TIE Interceptors spiraling and diving around each other with almost balletic grace. The detailing was exquisite, right down to the markings on individual astromech droids. The picture faded out for a moment, with a deliberate softness that was built into the show to make transitions less harsh, and suddenly, they were standing on the bridge of the Executor, Darth Vader's personal flagship. The quiet bustle of the bridge was a pleasant contrast to the chaos outside.

After a few moments, the view changed again, this time taking the group to the forest moon below. General Organa, along with her band of rebels, were busy attacking the shield bunker that protected the Death Star from direct attack.

"In this battle, General Organa is often personally credited with the Rebellion's victory over the Empire. Without the rapport she built with the indigenous Ewoks, it's unlikely that the Rebellion would have won the day. Though Wedge Antilles and Lando Calrissian are credited with the destruction of the Death Star, and Luke Skywalker with the death of the Emperor, none of that would have been possible without General Leia Organa.

"Of course," he said, nodding towards the representatives of the First Order and Galactic Empire, "our goal here is not to vilify the brave men and women who fought in the service of their Emperor. The First Galactic Civil War was not as cut and dry as many of the histories would lead you to believe, and there were heroes and atrocities on both sides of the conflict. Though we of the Troubador believe the Emperor's death to be an event worth celebrating, that does not diminish the courage and sacrifice of the Empire."

Once more, they stood on the bridge of the Executor.

"As you can see, Imperial perspectives are offered as well as Rebel, uncut and unfiltered, to provide you with the full story of what happened that fateful day."

Mercutio glanced longingly towards the chairs in the center of the room and heaved a theatrical sigh. If there was any doubt that the holographic being could act as well as any of the humans, his earlier cheerful demeanor and speech patterns had melded seamlessly into the quiet, anxious voice of a war documentary narrator.

"Unfortunately, the full experience will have to wait. We simply don't have the time today, but not to worry! In addition to the payment you'll receive, each one of you will be granted VIP for life status on the Troubadour, as our way of saying thanks. You'll be able to experience the wonder of the General Organa Memorial Observatory time and time again!"

The hologram offered a final conciliatory shrug, then squared his shoulders and strode towards the center of the room, and the exit on the opposite side. When he got to the middle, however, he stopped, frowning.

"Say, that's odd."

[member="Lady Kay"] [member="Lark"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Cacak Tarn"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Lily Kuhn"] [member="Dass Tallav"]

 

[The Major]

These holograms were top notch beyond rival, and it all was presented without a single hitch in the framerate or skip in the audio. So exquisite was this entertaining and also informative presentation, that members of the group watching might admit that their senses were warping to accommodate the totality of this feature.

One could almost taste the burning oil as ships were blasted -smell blood as imperial and rebel solider fell. The air was even misty with fog as though to simulate the confusion of battle, all while in the greatest recreation in known history played out before their eyes.

But here, in the observatory named after General Organa, things would take a little turn.​

​

!SNAP!​

​

Murcutio had nailed a descriptor with the word "odd." A power surging hiss reverberated throughout the observatory, shaking the floor in motions which uncomfortably reminded anyone that they were in fact upon a ship traveling in space. Electricity to the room cuts, plunging the explorers into thick darkness.

Would their eyes adjust in time?

". . ." There was a very specific crackle someone's mouth made when they grinned widely. Somewhere in the direction from where this group crossed the threshold one could hear something like this crunchy wet noise push between teeth before skittering away.

Emergency lights lazily flicker on above to compensate for the guests, their glow washing the deceptively small room in dull red. An audible buzz rings as damaged electrical wires beneath the intended seating sizzles.

Blaster bolts and slug rounds punctuate every inch of one side of the room, as though fighters were shooting at one thing relentlessly. The mist was no illusion, but the result of perhaps hundreds of bolts fired and filling the room with arid ozone. On the opposite side three forms were huddled close together.

The first: a military advisor wearing the distinctive red armband and peaked cap of the First Order. Although his black garb might imply that the man was simply laying there, a closer inspection would reveal that his upper ribcage had been penetrated and manducated to a husky paste. Dried tears trailed salty paths down his cracked eyes. A standard issue blaster with a fresh power pack was gripped in his left hand -despite the stink and blood, it was in fine working condition.

The second: a humanoid style corpse mutilated beyond identification. Its clawed robe could either place this figure as a fallen diplomat or even an envoy of any of the major jedi orders. It sadly was unarmed, or rather, stripped.

The third: what clearly was a skeletal exosuit of a droid had been smashed into non-working bits. It was the powerful frame of an Iron Knight, and these expert duelists had been spotted in operation in various sectors across the galaxy, accompanying great tragedy and crisis. This unit appeared to be crumpled in front of the other two bodies. It's lower torso was closer to the center of the room, oil pooling beneath the mangled frame, and it would seem that this knight was intending to protect the two organics before being crushed. Knights of the Contingency often used a variety of weapons in an anti-force fighter role. This particular fallen knight appears to have been once fighting with a phrik tipped spear -only the spear was split in half, with the blunt bit shoved into the eye socket and rammed downward into his torso, pinning the knight to the floor. The other half with the spear tip laid on the machine's right side.

"Hark!​

Do not s-s-s-s-sing​

the song-song-sing song.​

Stay away from the song."​

​

The message looped. It appears the fellow had been repeating this warning since the movie began, only its remaining speaker could only crackle in a whisper. Unable to pierce the veil of noise before, it was truly a daunting example of helplessness.

[member="Lady Kay"] [member="Lark"] [member="Travis Caalgen"] [member="Cacak Tarn"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Lily Kuhn"] [member="Dass Tallav"]​