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Not Everything is Black and White [TSE Dominion of Cadomai Hex]

Ao Xian

Everyone Forgets the Tail Flick

A planet of black and white. Jet skies and cold tundra plains. Freezing, mountainous. And yet appealing. A center of artistic culture, an unlikely resort world. Settled on major trade routes, part of the Corporate Sector, Cadomai teetered on the edge of the vast and growing Sith Empire.

While Voss and Ession had been campaigns of blood, built on the bones of old enemies, the Empire’s invitation for Cadomai to join in the growing Imperial Machine was as peaceful as it came. Perhaps it was history. Perhaps it was familiarity. Perhaps it was simply looking at the last acquisitions of the Empire and deciding ‘not us.’ Most likely it was a combination of factor that led the leadership of Cadomai Prime to welcome the Empire with open arms.

It certainly had nothing to do with the sacking of the Alliance. Nothing at all :):cough:: )

The Empire comes just after the election of a new leader, Narn Gryphith, a soft spoken Snivvian artist and teacher. Following a series of unstable leaders, Narn hopes to ensure the safety of his people, and considers working with the Empire the best road to this end.

Objective 1: Diplomacy- Meet with the Cadomai Leadership in Brella, the Capital City. Reassure them that their compliance will be rewarded. Not all will be comfortable or believe you, but the way is paved in peace if we are careful.

Objective 2: Rumblings - Not all Snivvian’s feel the same way their leader does. Investigate rumors of some grumblings in certain quarters. The information is more important than the heads of those speaking it. Perhaps subtly in this instance will lead to connections to other rebellious elements bloodshed might otherwise miss.

Objective 3: Culture/Social- The Empire’s visit to Cadomai coincides with their largest art show of the year. Visit the show, relax, enjoy, meet people and make connections.

Objective 4: BYOO - As always, feel free to bring your own arc. Want to build business connections? Have at. Want to assassinate a high ranking member with a dissenting voice? Go for it. Bring a posting buddy or go it solo. Have fun!


ooc note: The Alliance in Exile has asked permission for a couple members to do some sneaky sneak stuff as part of the arc continued from Endgame. So when you see them doing their stuff, feel free to interact or let them do their set up (either is okay!) and know that they are here with TSE permission!
Moonage Daydream
Objective: Rebel things.

It had been a few weeks. The Alliance in Exile was out working on gathering at D’Qar, but Coren Starchaser, General of the Sector Forces, Jedi Master, and one of the leaders of the Shattered Order was not slowing down. An unmarked light corvette entered the system of Cadomai Prime. The Alliance had a few tricks up their sleeves still, and the Jedi was taking a few people around and setting up work.

What he wanted today was to see what he and a small team could accomplish. Having personally vouched for a number of Jedi, and others giving their recommendations, Coren had picked up [member="Cambria Zadira"]. Turning to the Twi’lek, and the operatives present he nodded.

“So, its going to be simple. We need to get in, on the planet there is a rumor of the Sith Empire already moving data through the system. What I want to do is get the operatives on the surface, and blending in, they’ll handle themselves, but I need you to help cover me, Cam. Going to head to the surface, and there are a few government buildings we need to get into.” He looked at his team.

“We’re looking to here.” The map lit up on the town, IDing the landing zone, a spaceport, and a government building down the main drag. “The issue was, I wasn’t expecting company, Sith are moving faster than I thought. Think you can blend in, Blue?”
A Blue Guardian Angel
Objective: Rebel things
w/[member="Coren Starchaser"]

Cambria had not seen nor talked to Coren Starchaser since the Battle of Coruscant. They had been in different areas of the Jedi Temple that day fighting for their lives and the very thing the Light stood for. The Twi'lek had made it out on one of the last transports with a youngling she aided before the whole building collapsed and left the NJO temple in utter ruins while he had been captured by the Sith and taken away. Though it didn't take long before the Marshall was sprung from his confinement along with a few other Jedi by good friends. They were fewer in numbers now, but still hope was alive within the shattered Order. The light side could not be that easily erased. Maybe the illumination dimmed momentarily, but not totally blacked out. Strength of heart would keep the Jedi going, it had to for the galaxy's sake.

While the Jedi Guardian listened to Coren give his mission parameters to her and the other operatives gathered, the blue-hued Knight's lekku twitched thoughtfully behind her. Keen, golden eyes peered at the map studying it, then they raised to meet the Corellian Jedi's blue.

"I have my ways, Master Starchaser" Cambria answered the Sentinel, the corners of her naturally berry-colored lips curling upward into a small smile. "And yes, covering you will be my honor."
ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
Location: Brella; Cadomai
Objective: 1


Diplomacy, in Darth Vesper's mind, was like courtship, like fine art, like arranging a delicate bed of flowers. That is, the most fun when conducted from a position of overwhelming power, and a perfect opportunity to exercise deceit, human sacrifice, murder, and dark magic. Not too enthusiastically, however - a worthy Lord conducts all of his or her affairs with a sense of cool detachment, of propriety and proportion.

That being said, he imagined few of these things would be necessary here. As viscerally, brutally disgusting these Snivvians were to look at - like a punch in the face - these things that looked like they should be rolling around in mud with the worms were surprisingly a source of some truly fine art, and he took that as a measure of sophistication. Of reason, and reason meant that submission to the will of the Dark Lord would be swift. Those surrounded by ugliness, who doubtlessly arose from cave-dwelling ancestors hiding from icy winters in squalor, were attuned perhaps more than any species other than the Sith themselves to beauty.

Opposites draw themselves together, like light to shadows. Vesper took this to be some hidden law of the machinery of the Force that moved the universe.

He wore a soft, gentle smile as he stepped along the causeway, side by side the other members of the diplomatic attache, engaged in a stimulating bit of conversation with the ambassador's chief of staff.

"Oh, 'Lord of Avarice?' Ah, yes, I thought the titles might pique your curiosity - what the Jedi, I pity them, truly, hold to be vices, we the Sith take as virtues, and make our mantles. After all, what is avarice? The desire to gather and create prosperity, to see one's means extend and broaden... and business begets business, no? If the people handing out government subsidies in the Alliance to Jedi corporations had been a little more selfish, perhaps they'd have had a little more to give when it all came crashing down. Oh, no, I wasn't there, I wish I was - but I did actually lose some money, actually, the fallout affected a corporate investment. Why yes, I am a businessman, but we can't discuss that now - tell me, if your boss were the Emperor, would you want to be caught enriching yourself working a government job? Ha, that being said, I can't help but feel we'll all be richer for the friendship we're about to forge..."

He smiled as he went on, at length, between the staffer's equally lengthy replies, viciously eager to get around to where someone important was.

Objective 4: BYOO - Establish a Spaarti Cloning Facility in the cavern system

The location she had chosen was perfect for her intended purposes. Taeli had been looking through various locales to establish a Spaarti cloning facility in Sith Empire space, and when she heard they had been invited to absorb Cadomai into the growing Empire, she had seen the potential there. The planet was remote, harsh winters, mountainous, and large underground caverns were a common thing. Nicely isolated, with space for an incredibly large facility not in Mandalorian space like Cartao.

Work had begun immediately. Aurora worker droids cleared out the caverns and even hollowed out the mountain above, erecting hallways and chambers. Electricians and engineers were combing over every spot, tapping into planet's crust for geothermal energy to power the facility. Monitoring stations and laboratories would be in the mountain, places where her scientists could work, while the caverns... every single one was slated to receive Spaarti cylinders and spheres. Personally, she would have preferred an upgrade in tech, but those were still in the design phase. They would have to make do.

"Ice, I dislike ice," the female Kaminoan next to her stated blandly. Only fair, Taeli supposed. Kaminoans were more used to storms and rain, not winters and mountains.

"It will serve its purpose Ce," she replied. "Thousands of cylinders, and with the leftover ysalamir being placed within the caverns with their favorite olbio trees, we will be able to build armies much faster here. Protection from the Emperor's fleets and armies will ensure security."

"Augmenting our own, of course," Ce said.

"Yes, indeed," Taeli replied, smiling.
Hope is Kindled
Objective:Rebel Things
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Cambria Zadira"]

The events of Lothal still lingering in his mind, while Kahne wasn't one to be motivated by hate or anything of that sort as that wasn't his way of doing things. Nonetheless he still remembered those that had fallen, and the innocent lives that were lost during the attack on the planet. He was motivated by something else, which is what brought him forward again. The Jedi Master stood behind Coren and would elect to follow him into battle and into this crusade. Kahne chuckled lightly at the thought, the second time around he hoped this time around he followed someone it wasn't wasted.

The Jedi Master stood a few paces back in between other members of the Alliance In Exile, as he listened to Coren's plan and what needed to be done. Infiltration was tricky sometimes, Kahne avoided missions such as these before as often as he could. He wanted to be of some use though, so he opted to tag along. Carefully, and decisively they needed to be.

"Well thought of." Kahne said as he gazed at the map before them, his eyes moving along from the start to where they needed to go.

Jantar Keltainen

Evil is a word used by the ignorant and the weak
Post: One
Objective 2: Rumblings

The data file said 99% of the population were Snivvians. Jantar’s first impression of the planet confirmed her suspicions – they were welcome to it.

Why anyone would consider this a resort planet was beyond her. The winters were unbearable, apparently, and the people lived below ground – in caverns – during this time. Was she biased on what constitutes acceptable living quarters – given she came from the upper levels of Coruscant? Perhaps, but she didn’t care. It was cold, uninteresting and the art…meh, she could take it or leave it. But to choose your leader based upon who was the best artist? That was plain crazy.

The one fact that caught her interest was the fact that for Snivvians, the norm was for one birthing to yield one male and one female, but male-male twin births sometimes occurred, albeit very rarely. In these cases, one of the two children could be born with a genetic flaw, known as the Blood Code of the Snivvian, which had a chance to mutate into a personality disorder and possible sociopathic behaviour.

It made Jantar wonder if she had a twin.

So, she travelled the Hydian Way hyperlane, mission dossier memorised. She was here to find an individual. Due to the nature of the resistance – and the network of underground tunnels, she had been assigned a single target. Her brief was simple. Not to eliminate him, but to find out the extent of his work – for his specialism was in changing identities.


The Clanless
“There isn’t anything there.” A quiver of a worried voice carried up from beneath the hole in the floor where Dran Gliffyph, a older male Snivvian was hunched over with a concerned look on his face at the ever quietening echo of the words. His hand would extend and take hold of a beaten and well worn wooden box that had appeared from the darkness followed by the supporting hands of another younger of his species. “I thought there was meant to be more then one box?”
“There was, but…” Dran who had for many years operated within the higher circles of the planets military before retiring several years ago ducked down and helped the other to slide out of the hole, each keeping their voices low and actions quiet to assure not being detected by the Imperial presence that was just on the other side of the wall. Dran, like many on planet hadn’t taken kindly to the governments open hand gesture to allow the Empire’s controlling sphere to extend out over Cadomai “Come now Gjar, help me close this back off.”
The pair struggled with the large grey stone floor tile, but with a small bit of grunting and as little noise as possible managed to pull it over the hole and release it to sit flush against the flooring. “Exactly as we found it.” Dran muttered and brushed his hands against his thighs to removed the fine black grit that had smudged on them, he was getting too old for this.
“How are we going to deal with them if we only have one box?” Gjar, who was thirty or so years Dran’s junior had taken the moment to pick up the wooden crate carefully, his younger build easing the work that Dran was hoping he would never have to do. “I could do a call out, see if…”
“No Gjar,” Dran interrupted with a scowl, “this is our burden alone. The others have their own problems with this Imperial occupation.” He sighed a deep exhale of air and with a slight limp on his left leg moved towards the lone metal door that sat on the far side of the room with an orange glow light illuminating the control pad. He was about to press the button but paused instead turning towards his younger companion. “Remember that while we get judged for the path we are taking it is all for the greater good. A small sacrifice to allow for an easier life for your children. We will just have to make do with what we have.”

“No, I…” Gjar avoided his seniors stare, instead looking at the crate his arms with contempt. “I understand. For the greater good.”
“Good boy.” Dran smiled and pressed the switch to open the door before heading through.

“Good news. We had another box down in the cellar.” The Snivvian’s announcement was met by a raucous cheer from thirty or so men who were currently sat haphazardly around the cantina, each were engaged in their own conversations, games and other activities of soldier’s on their downtime. Gjar cracked the case and put his hand within, giving Dran a quick and apprehensive look as if asking for the go-ahead, some form of permission that would yet again assure him that what he was doing was in the best interest of the planet’s people. So a nod was given, a small gesture but one that would hopefully allow the Snivvian to continue at ease with his own conscience. I one motion Gjar would lean down and come to his full height, placing bottles of some amber liquid on the bar where they were quickly snatched up by the men within it. After emptying the crate it was slid into a corner, where a substantial pile had already been established.
Dran’s hand came to rest on Gjar’s shoulder, a smile on the old Snivvian’s face. “I know you want to fight it, to be one of those heroic patriots who never backed down.” He said it with a fatherly tone, which was suitable seeing as the larger and younger rebel want to be was indeed his son. “I assure you this is better then a lifetime of war. I’m not happy with the government’s decision to just roll on our backs and allow the Empire to claim us as their own, but the life of a subject in this day and age is far more comfortable then stepping on the toes of the Sith Empire.”
His son nodded. It was a slow and accepting agreement of the situation. “I know, at least with open arms we can continue onwards.” He gave his father a pat on the back and turned his attention to the group of men and women filling up their small cantina. “Who are these people anyway. They don’t bare the Imperial seal?”
Dran’s face went stern. “They aren’t of the Empire.” He gave a glance across the group. “The have the sigil of the golden sun. Thyrisian mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries? That explains their need for excessive amounts of our stock.” Clearly the younger of the family hadn’t heard of the the company, or his words would have been less is jest. “So why here, why now?”
“The Empire uses the Golden Company as a shock troop. They get sent into the hardest of territory to soften it up before the Imperial military come into claim it with ease. They seem like a jolly bunch, but I’ve heard stories of their battlefield victories. I’m just happy we are serving them willingly.”
“We should probably tell them we’ve ran out though? Before it gets too far ahead.” Gjar made the point and looked around the room. “Do you know who is in charge.”
“Yes.” Dran’s eyes were set through the crowd. Lingering upon one who stood out from the dark skinned Thyrsian mass, he was sat upon one of the lounges with his form cast as casual as possible, feet were upon the table and a half empty tankard in his hand. Around his were a handful of local girls, varying species who had all come down to see the rumours of the warrior in the flesh. The man gave a laugh at some joke that had been made by a nearby member of his group, even in his joyful mood it gave Dran the shivers. “They call him Novax. The Speaker of the Sun. Even though he was not born of Thyrisian blood he has somehow managed to establish himself in some power throughout the group.”
“He seems nice enough.” Gjar smirked.
“He’s a monster, but hopefully as I have heard…A just one as well.” Dran began to head out into the crowd. “I shall tell him of our worry. Relax, I will be fine.”


Tabigarashu Madara

Good things come in smol packages
The Art Show
Little bit of Column 2, Little bit of Column 3

Normally, Hirou really REALLY liked visiting new worlds. There was adventure, new experiences, new people!

Cadomai though?

Was just too. Blasted. Cold.

It reminded the little Nezumi of Castameer. Hirou had hated Castameer. It had been freezing, the snow was too deep. Sure they had made a friend (and Hirou wondered just how he was doing these days), but over all the experience had just been too dang cold for the small creature to remember with significant fondness.

While this time Hirou wore a little jacket (A gift from [member="Darth Saarai"]) it was still just too darn cold!

The Nezumi paused to admire a particularly fine sculpture of a native animal they didn't know the name of.

What was the Nezumi doing here?

Taking a listen for the grumblings that the early intelligence on the planet had unearthed. Not everyone was happy with the Sith being welcomed. The Art show was one of their largest, most heavily attended events of the year. So what better place to get the lay of the land, the feel of what the people who mattered (according to their own litmus) felt about the whole situation?

Hirou was small, unobtrusive. It was easy to scamper around the art show and listen in on conversations without being noticed.

Unless of course they shivered themselves into oblivion.

Jantar Keltainen

Evil is a word used by the ignorant and the weak
Post: Two
Objective 2: Rumblings

Jantar was surprised at the ease with which she’d been able to find her target. She didn’t know his real name – just his working alias – The Painter. Jantar presumed there was some humour in the title, given the Snivvian’s cultre – not that she found it funny, or even vaguely humorous.

But finding him was one thing, getting information out of him would be quite another. She had been told not to use excessive force – so killing him was right out of the question. Even torture was not encouraged. So, yes – she could use magic to enter his mind and extract the information – but that ran the risk of damage, and his value was as much in operating as normal, whilst the Sith rounded up his clients quietly and carefully – without warning them they were coming. Which his death or premature senility would definitely do.

So, she sat opposite the Snivvian, his great snout flaring in irritation as his ample chops grimaced in an expression that many species mistakenly interpreted as a smile. Jantar knew better.

She’d posed as an intermediary – requiring a number of off-world Snivvians to have their identities changed. Her long list of requirements was intended to be testing, for too easy a task might alert him.

The work-space was small. As well as a small office, Jantar had been shown a lab and recovery rooms – but the area they were in now housed a desk, a few chairs and a sofa. No computer or filing cabinets. Jantar needed to work out where he kept his information.

“So, what got you into this line of work,” Jantar asked, as The Painter was working out figures on a scrap of flimsi.

“I saw an saw an opportunity,” he said, not looking up.

“What you want is easy enough,” the Snivvian said, finally lifting his head to look at her. “But facial reconstruction only gets you so far. To reinvent yourself, you need to think fingerprints. Dental. Retinal.”

“How much?” she asked.

Jairus Starvald

The Art Show
Little bit of Column 2, Little bit of Column 3
[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]

The Saaraishash was a finely-made piece of clockwork.

It just... worked.

Every gear, every cog, slowly churning along as it made up the entire mechanism without fail. But no clockwork was perfect and sometimes the gears got stuck. Kinda like when one Vulgrim Blackwell, Inquisitor, was send to the Art Show and ruined the entire purpose of Hirou's mission there. Where the Nezumi was smoll, unassuming and could easily listen in on conversations without being noticed? Vulgrim made those same conversations stop without even doing much of anything.

The first step he took into the show everyone stopped talking.

The second step he took everyone took a step back.

Vulgrim stopped too- sharp hands carefully (and with practice) brushing off imaginary dust from his immaculate suit. "Oh. Excuse me, did I not wear the proper attire? I was informed that this would be a tuxedo and tie event." The demon, eyes burning inside the skull, crevices of rigid chitin forming eyebrows wrinkling, straightened his back a bit and almost hit the one of the low-hanging chandeliers. "Oh darn it all. I am so sorry, you'd think that by now I'd be used to these small rooms."

This particular gala room had the size of half a football field.

The butler that was sadly been made the center of Vulgrim's attention (he wore the same style of suit!) tried an awkward smile, lips thin. He raised the platter with drinks and it shook a bit.

"Oh, no, thank you. I don't drink....." He thought about that sentence for a moment. "Alcohol anyway. Perhaps if you have some apple juice? Maybe in a slightly.. larger container."

By now some had restarted their conversations. Say what you will about the Snivvians, but once they determined that Mister Blackwell did indeed have an invitation and wasn't here to mass-murder them all he lost some of his shine. He'd remain one of the larger topics of the conversation, but they'd at least be polite enough not to make their staring all too apparent. That was the very least they could do to one of the representatives of the Sith Empire, no?
Location: Cadomai, Art Show
Objective: 2 & 3
With: [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

Leliana had come to Cadomai primarily to experience the show they were putting on. Outside of her duties to the Sith Empire, the assassin had a fixation on art and fashion. It was something she had sorely been missing with how busy the Sith had gotten recently. With the fall of the Galactic Alliance, to the various small rebel factions that were nipping at their heels.

But the stars had aligned, as the Empire's next target happened to be a planet that was pulling together their annual Art Show. While their arrival on Cadomai had been peaceful, there were still mutterings of disagreement. It was inevitable, almost impossible to get every Snivvian's approval.

Nonetheless, that wasn't the reason why Leliana had come to the planet.

She wanted to see the art, and she'd be damned if she was going to let some rebellious attitudes get in the way of it. But the assassin had gone into this knowing her luck wasn't that great. Something was bound to happen to force her away from what she enjoyed.

Presently, Leliana was stood before a large painting, dressed in her more casual outfit compared to the armour she usually wore. A middle-aged gentlemen standing to the side going into detail about it.

"It's believed the artist painted this from a first-hand account of Corellia's breaking, its..."

It had taken Leliana a few moments to realize the man had suddenly stopped speaking. She glanced over to see his attention had been turned elsewhere, and as such she looked to find the source.

Enter Vulgrim Blackwell.

His towering size sticking out like the worst sore thumb you could imagine. The entire hall stopped, everyone looking at Vulgrim. Leliana on the other hand, tilted her head to the side, slightly befuddled.

Stupidly Tall. Demonic horns, the fact he was at an Art Show of all things. But most importantly...he was wearing a suit.

A suit.

Leliana's mind immediately went to trying to calculate how much material would be needed for something that large. That somehow managed to fit the Maelibus perfectly.
Moonage Daydream
Objective: Rebel Rebel
Allies: [member="Kahne Porte"] [member="Cambria Zadira"]

It wasn’t long before the ship was landing on the surface. He knew that this was going to be a terrible situation, but he figured with faking the IFF, a trick he was more than capable of, look at this man, they were going to at least have a few moments before the strike came down on them. It was going to be something else.

Not long after the initial speech and the smaller ship being deposited in system by a passing FarStar, the ship hurried to the planet. Coren checked his load out. “I don’t have any doubts, Blue.” She was a good pilot, and a good Jedi, having her along was going to do some real good. And Kahne, now this was another face he was glad to have here.

“Glad to have you here, too, Porte. Lothal, from what I hear, yeah? Glad you got out. We need more Jedi like you.” He nodded.

“If need be, you two are the better saber swingers. Once we touch, we may need you to make a scene. I can get in and slice the system if they’re looking for you.” But then it was how to get away. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “Just keep your ears open.” He loaded a powerpack into his sidearm.

The next lurch was the ship they were on touching down. He and the captain lead the way off, with the rest of the Alliance team waiting on the ship. A few quick words, and well, they’d be alone. A quick whistle would bring the team out. “Main drag, building three blocks away is the target.” He said to the two Jedi as he lead them onto the street.

Sor-Jan Xantha

Certified Worst Jedi
Objective 3: Cultural/Social

The dusting of snow cast a sharp contrast to the coarse, square-like weave of the black robes.

The cub's large, felinoid ears gave the hooded cowl a distinctive cat-like shape, as the younglings were paraded through the cold. Their hoods raised over their heads, black scarves around their necks, and bundled up beneath the dark uniform robe that marked them as students of the Royal Academy of Bastion.

The University of Cadomai had invited the Imperial cadets to partake of the art show. This, of course, meant that the choir was performing. And this time, Micah had not avoided getting one of the solo parts.

At least the Dark Lord would not be present for this exhibition, which explained why Petro hadn't been as interesting in taking the center stage. Thankfully, Petro had several attention-grabbing parts throughout the production, so Micah's unintentional foray into the spotlight would not bruise the delicate ego of Darth Attention Whore.

Jorah was looking thoroughly bored. The ride in the star destroyer was about the only silver lining for the Zabrak jock. Like Micah, Jorah was easy to pick out of the group of black robed and hooded younglings, as the crown of horns gave his hood a distinctive shape as well.

As the younglings dispersed into the art show, the Cathar and the Zabrak paired up. A third, hooded figure joined them. This one had the indistinct humanoid shape of any other head in the crowd, save for the silvery reflective metal that shone from beneath the hood.

Blink's face was literally blank. Micah could see his own reflection distorted within the mirror-like finish of the Polydroxol's smooth visage. Like a mask and a mirror.

The three younglings were dwarfed by the lumbering forms of the Snivvian's that passed them by.

Already, Micah had no idea just what they were in for.

Amea Virou

Art Show
People I think might be present:
[member="Leliana"] // [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] // [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"] // [member="Micah"]​

If people thought art galleries echoed during shows they should have seen them before they opened, or even during the vernissage. How Amea had gotten a hold of this job did not matter, what mattered was the fact that she had it. The pay was pretty crap but the assignment handed to her was one that would let her see the art and get paid for it. Hell, she didn’t even have to dress up all fancy like the others either, the outfit provided for her took care of that for her with its slacks, shirt, tie and a cap as well as an assortment of handcuffs and other detainment tools necessary to work security.

It was a sweet deal at first. Just outside Sith territory -- at first, at least -- it was in reach of the nearest starport once the day was over with, and a fat paycheck that would last her a few days at the very least. Which meant not very fat at all, but a job was a job, and free entry to an art show was free entry to an art show.

As the people began to flood the show Amea had already begun her patrol. The schedule was pretty clear. First few rounds would take her back and forth along the Western wing before there was a brief break to eat, and then it was off to the Eastern wing. Sure, she might have missed the big centerpiece of the show, but art was art. She could live without seeing big sculpted phalluses in disguise as something else, really.

The second benefit of being security was the fact that people tended to leave you alone and if anything actively make an effort to get out of your way and make sure you didn’t notice them. Now, the same could not be said for some. A big man entered the room and it went quiet. Amea turned on her heel to look at the commotion, a hand reaching instinctively for her baton before she eased off ahead of the others.

Appearances were deceiving, right? Give people the benefit of a doubt and you were more likely to be pleasantly surprised than anything. Besides, as long as he didn’t live up to the prejudice of others there was nothing to fear.

Her back straightened and she turned to look at the painting next to her. It was an abstract piece that she couldn’t help but stare at. Colors of white, red, black and blue all intertwined on a worn canvas. The plaque beneath it read “Religion” and Amea couldn’t quite help but smile at it. Abstract sass, she could appreciate that.

Her eyes followed the lines of the elaborate brush strokes. For what it was worth, the art was quite exquisite. There were no regrets on Amea’s behalf when it came to taking this job.
A Blue Guardian Angel
Do rebel things
w/[member="Kahne Porte"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

Golden eyes went to the dark-haired Jedi Master who was accompanying Starchaser and herself on this mission. Cambria had heard of what transpired on Lothal at the Jedi temple as it had at Coruscant. It was a testament of both Masters of the Light to have fought and lived after going up against the dark side's highest ranked nor had they taken the easy path and become another Lost Jedi. They were great mentors to have, and the Knight would continue to gleam whatever lessons she could from them to aid her upon her further journey of the light side.

"It is indeed good to have you with us, Master Porte," the Rutian Twi'lek conveyed with a respectful twitch of her lekku.

As the Jedi operatives were dropped off and began their travel down the main street to their intended targets, Cambria wrapped them in a reflective blanket of the Force to camouflage their appearance. It was a skill Master Soros taught the Twi'lek when she was the elder Zabrak's padawan learner as often, especially as an alien species, it was hard to be all sneaky like when you stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the normal backdrop.

The Jedi Guardian wouldn't be able to hold the Force Cloak for too long, but long enough to get Coren where he needed to go. The rest would be up to him as Kahne and her then would play decoys as the need arose.

Tabigarashu Madara

Good things come in smol packages
Location: Art Show
Objective: Undercover- NOPE
[member="Vulgrim Blackwell"] [member="Micah"] [member="Leliana"] [member="Amea Virou"]

Hirou paused as certain very conspicuous individuals entered the show. Standing up on their back legs, nose twitching in the air, Hirou couldn't believe their eyes.

The Nezumi face pawed.

It wasn't that they weren't pleased to see Vulgrim- they absolutely were! Vulgrim was an honorary Tabigarashu after all. A cousin in his way, by adoption. Hirou had done it themselves, making the Maelibus the first (and so far only) non-Nezumi adopted into the clans.

It was just very poor timing.
From halfway across the show, Hirou scampered in that direction. Pausing here and there, listening in. With the arrival of someone very clearly here with the Sith and the choir show going on, those who might have otherwise grumbled more clearly about the Sith arrival were keeping mostly quiet. They were not a stupid people, the Snivvians. Hirou sighed.

Hopefully agents in other areas would have better luck.

Hirou went skittering across the floor, between the feet and robes of a trio of Sith acolytes, barely avoiding being stepped on.

"Pardon me!" The Nezumi squeaked at them.

A hop, skip and a jump, and Hirou was up on the edge of the table closest to Vulgrim.

"My friend," the Nezumi called, waving a paw.

Jairus Starvald

Location: Art Show
Objective: Admire the suit.
[member="Tabigarashu Madara"] [member="Micah"] [member="Leliana"] [member="Amea Virou"]

Vulgrim frowned.

Then looked down.

Immediately the expression broke from confusion to a wide (toothy) grin of welcome. It caused those nearby, who caught the rows upon rows of sharp teeth, to take a few steps back and make some distance. Who knew what a Maelibus ate these days and what those teeth could be used for, no? Vulgrim paid it no heed, clearly they were simply showing respect for this joyous reunion.

"Ah, cousin Hirou, what a pleasure." The Maelibus leaned down to take a better look at the smol Nezumi. "Is that a new suit? I absolutely adore it- classic Thirriken cut, no? It suits you beautifully."

Hirou would notice that once Vulgrim had leaned in suddenly he would have it far more warm.

Almost as if he had an internal heating stove.

"Have you come to admire the artwork or..." It was impossible to know how the Maelibus did it, but somehow the twist of his face turned conspiratorial. The voice dimming in volume (not that it helped much, it was still loud enough to cause those next to them to widen their eyes and make some more room just to be safe). "...are you here for work reasons?"

A thick wink followed right after that.
Vestille Thumahra

Brella, Cadomai Prime
Objective IV :: Crash the party

No reprieve, no matter how transparent and tempting the sights looked.

Voss and Ession had been trials of fire and wading deep into the dark side of war; enemies and innocents that simply found themselves in harms way at the wrong time, the blood of both was on the hands of the Captain of the 105th and whilst many would try to wash their hands, rid themselves of the stains of their sins, Vestille did no such thing. Whilst many would no doubt hold a heavy burden on their shoulders after putting an entire population of civilians to the sword, to the Captain of the 105th, those that were once living now served as nothing more than haunting spirits. Ever since Dagobah, the shadows followed him, the whispers echoed down every hall he walked through; as much of an isolationist the Captain was, he was never truly alone in his mind. Any sane man would call for help, try to remove such an affliction from themselves but Vestille wasn't one to place himself upon a crutch. He instead remained silent, never uttered a word and never showed any signs of weakness when in the presence of others or even in his own company. Bottling up problems only brings a volatile explosion to their eventual release and since Dagobah, this ailment and curse had been kept locked away in a prison cast to the void of his deepest, darkest reaches of psyche.

Eventually, it would all surface. The man was nothing short of a ticking time bomb. When the clock struck zero? An intelligent monster would be replaced with a mindless beast.

Whilst it seemed that the Sith Empire set its sights on Cadomai Prime, it came as a surprise to the Captain of the 105th that instead of communicating with a sword, the Sith instead chose the pen. As Vestille arrived upon the surface of Cadomai Prime alone, the false precognition of the Capital burning and Star Destroyers overhead, the Captain was instead greeted with what could have been any other day anywhere else; people going about their business in the artist's paradise and deceiving resort world. Of course, Vestille stuck out like a sore thumb in this environment, clad in his typical armor and whilst carrying his rifle, kept his pistols safely locked away within their respective holsters; he owned no other clothes, no other sense of possessions. There were no doubt laws on the surface, a security force hidden away somewhere; in order to maintain operational security and avoid jeopardizing diplomatic relations, Vestille knew that he needed to stick to the shadows, remain out of sight. To him, this was enemy territory, every smile was hiding something, every person he moved on past was a potential connection to the enemy.

Whilst many relaxed and reveled, all it took was one angry boot to stir the hive. The Captain wasn't here to relax, not by a long shot; the Sith had an objective in mind for him.

Whilst relations were still being developed and public opinion was slowly being swayed, there were many that had seen what the Sith Empire had done in the past and spoke out against them and the newest head of the governing body, Narn Gryphith, for even considering an agreement with the Sith. Of course, one of the most notable, a considerably skilled artisan by the name of Woigrem Cig directly opposed the Sith ever setting foot on Cadomai in the first place, his resentment and opposition only growing more and more ambitious and louder as diplomacy began and continued; gathering followers to an anti-Sith movement on the political playing field upon the frozen paradise. Vestille knew what he had to do and as luck would have it, the artist turned politician was hosting a significantly sized party at his manor to celebrate the completion of one of his more serious and darker toned pieces. This, at least for the Sith and for Vestille, was an opportune time to have someone slip in, find and eliminate the political rival and make an quiet exit. Of course, being a closed off and tightly locked party, getting in would be the most difficult part but, once inside; there would be nowhere for Woigrem to run.

And so the Captain marched ever onward towards the exterior of the manor adorned with luxuries and wealthy decorations; yet another target in his sights and another world to conquer, all the while turmoil raged on beneath the cool exterior of the Sith's grim reaper. It was only a matter of time.
Hope is Kindled
Objective:Rebel Things
Allies: [member="Cambria Zadira"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

The Jedi nodded and bowed his head respectively towards Cambria and Coren. When Coren mentioned Lothal, Kahne just gave the smallest of nods as he listened to his words. "Yes, Lothal. It was rough, the force saw fit to keep me alive though." He appreciated Coren's words as they raised his spirits even higher. He would do his best not to Coren down and to live up to his full potential. "You as well Cambria." Kahne said with a small smile towards his allies before taking a deep breath and keeping his attention focused on the now, and leaving Lothal behind for the moment.

The Jedi listened attentively to Coren's instructions and he smirked slightly. Doing the distraction was the easy part, making it last however would prove to be something else. "You can count on us Coren." The Jedi whispered as they walked down the street and he could sense that Cambria was using some sort of force maneuver on them. Which proved to be quite useful. Kahne glanced around nonchalantly all the while making small facial expressions as if he was a tourist and had never seen something such as these items before, anything of the sort he could use to created the disturbance to draw away from the target. "Just let us know when. I've got a few ideas in mind." Kahne whispered as there were a few statues ahead of them in what looked to be a town or city square of sorts.