Dominion Peace Sells | GE Dominion of Cato Neimoidia

[Vireth]

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Zarra, Cato Neimoidia, Colonies;
INVASION OF THE GALACTIC ALLANCE, THE RESURGENT GALACTIC EMPIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tags: Minister Janus Vipsanius | Domaric Mordane | Aerarii Tithe | Shute Gunray | Otto Blank |

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OBJECTIVE I.

Vireth stood casually beside General Mordane as he taught her well with his words washing over her with purpose and a certain reasoning that had been forged in the articles and fires of war which resonated with her ambitious, dark mind.

The man was undoubtedly a war hero today-- not just through his mere service during the Core Wars-- but as a key component and player in the assault which had taken back Galactic Centre in the name of the Empire. Every syllable stuck with Vireth as he responded and not even the admonishment etched between sentences could dissuade the feelings of admiration which Mordane explained were not necessary in place of service to the cause.

"Today I am Governor Mordane... If you're going to admire someone, it is best to properly introduce yourself."

"I am Vireth of Kuat, Governor Mordane," Vireth replied making sure this time to use the man's correct title. "I apologise for my lack of decorum. I am not from the military..."

Indeed, while the Raithal Military Academy was set to produce it's best and brightest cadets to serve in the armed forces under men such as General Domaric Mordane, Vireth was not one of them for she had been a product of the Raithal Academy of Structural Doctrine-- an institute funded by the Church designed to consolidate and form the best and brightest minds to serve in the new era which had been ushered in by the likes of the man whom spoke so purposefully that it was difficult to ignore.

"If you're looking for glory... ask for reassignment. If you're looking to build something that outlasts you—stay close."

"Or so I've heard."

"Both the Raithal Academy and it's Structural Doctrine institute would like nothing more," Vireth replied quietly as she maintained her careful attitude not to disrupt these proceedings while simultaneously trying not to annoy the man she had just introduced herself too. "I am sure that a tour could be arranged of our facilities to ensure that they up to your standards, and of course, there would be some discussion regarding how we may serve."

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[Tilon Quill]

“P-Please… I don’t wanna fight… I don’t wanna be here!”

EXPEDITIONARY VESSEL WAKE OF BALMORRA
CLOAKED
CATO NEIMOIDIA LOW ORBIT - INBOUND

He'd have called it a vision but it had no visual component. Words only, three Jedi in their final moments. The Weequays called that kind of auditory clairvoyance mureyya, and the Therans of Nam Chorios had a whole tradition around it. Words, words, a dozen languages - this was Tilon's mind under stress, those three dying voices and their reinterpretations.

He hunched under the weight of it, hands blurring over the controls. The Wake of Balmorra, some minutes ahead of schedule at least, tilted its forked prow down until Cato Neimoidia dominated the field of view of the periscope's simple monitor. Heedless of whether drive trails could get picked up, he accelerated through the featureless darkness of his double-blind cloaking field.

It might have been a species of anger that impelled him. In all the languages he knew, none really had a fitting word for this feeling. This need to be where that Togruta girl had just died.

 

[Corin Kaze]

The games began in earnest.

Jedi marched in the rhythm of the damned - shackled with chains that ran red at their wrists and ankles. Some bore wounds too deep to heal, while others had wounds too fresh to ignore. The sands ran red, a deep and bile-like green as well as gold in a splattered remnants of what once fought. Corpses of fights since passed, as if an altar to Ren, remained littered in the arena. The Neimoidian people, and all those that came with them, cheered in that violent demand for blood.

Their cries so loud it drowned out the rising durasteel gates, revealing a nightmarish menagerie of beasts and monsters. Each of them snapped at each other, as eager to feast upon one another as much as the newly-made victims of the most recent round of fighting.

"On my signal," he announced.

Corin sat there in a quiet storm, the Force swelling around his being. His eyes, marred with runic symbols, drank in the darkness that permeated the air on Cato Neimoidia and his inner-being altered it, transformed it back to the light. The light that rises against the darkness, as High Lord Ashina declared the Lightsworn to be. He breathed a quiet breath and the space around him began to distort, to fold in on itself, until he vanished and only dust remained in his place.

He reappeared with his purple blade alight mid-motion, ringing fiercely as Corin swat aside Ren's blade as it bore down on a Rodian Jedi Padawan. He pushed out with his hand and surged a telekinetic push on the unsuspecting Ren, wishing to create distance between him and the other Jedi.

The Lightsworn in the stands ignited their lightsabers, an assortment of colour that rose in protest to the dark.

Talin Treicolt - Inosuke Ashina - Romi Jade - Tilon Quill - Detritus Ren - Thomas Barran

 

[Shannic Wulf]

Dropping from the capital ship

Aiko Hayata | Gat Tambor | Domb Treetor XIX | Minister Janus Vipsanius | Domaric Mordane | Aerarii Tithe

Shannic now sat listening in silence to the glittery words spoke by Tithe and the other members of the assembled delegation. She had worked alongside him before and knew his extreme capabilities were best enjoyed when they working towards a goal she sought. The same capabilities were devastatingly potent when on working against you.

Her colleague, the Minister Janus, spoke eloquently of their shared ambitions for the Federation entities and their dominions...former dominions. Several legions of Imperial troops had made that point quite succinctly, she smiled to herself. She knew to endure silence as the men talked-her voice would add what it could, when it could, for she alone spoke with the Emperor's will, she alone could enact at the highest levels of authority within the growing Imperial family. She was its Mother and the trillions that now lived within in were her Children.

She raised a glass of water.

"To freedom and prosperity. To the Empire!" she intoned, forgoing the actual drinking. She felt a solace in thirst. It made her senses keen, made them sharp. She now spoke.

"The Empire cherishes these ideals above all things. The Emperor has called us to create frameworks that allow the Federation to flourish whilst under our protection. You will find us less burdened by the empty moralism of the Alliance, Deputy Viceroy. We will not allow chaos to masquerade as freedom. We not only offer partnership but permanence. Liberating the sector's trade routes from piracy and corruption benefits not only your profit margins but also the trickle down to each member of the Imperial family."

She looked now directly at Aerarii Tithe .

"With your assistance in stabilising and strengthening our economic prospects, your autonomy and our prosperity are ensured. Let Cato Neimodia be the financial anchor from which we draw our own footing; your stewardship serves the greater Imperial good. Under your guidance, a confident market can grow, a confidence that cannot be achieve by fractured authority."

 

[Domaric Mordane]

Tags: Minister Janus Vipsanius | Aerarii Tithe | Credit Wizard | Shannic Wulf | Vireth | Shute Gunray | Otto Blank

She was not military, she explained—not exactly. Not in commission or rank, at least. That much was clear now in her carriage: confident, disciplined, but not blooded. Mordane watched her as she spoke, and the realization set in quietly. Not an officer, but educated like one. Church-trained, no doubt. Raithal. The accent, the references, the particular cadence of a student formed by structure rather than command—it all pointed to the Structural Doctrine Institute. Funded by the Church. Overseen by those who didn't bleed in the field, but who mapped wars for others to fight. And he, somehow, hadn't connected it until now.

He should've seen it immediately. That irritated him.

"I'll take your offer," he said, voice low but firm. "The Institute. I'd like to see what doctrine looks like when it's written without the smell of carbon scoring."

He gave her the smallest nod—acknowledging her poise, perhaps, or her ambition—before his attention was drawn back to the center of the room.b The Grand Vizier stood beneath the banners of the Trade Federation, glass raised high, her words cascading through the air like confetti. Freedom. Prosperity. The Empire. The chorus of flattery that always followed a well-placed toast rippled through the chamber like heat haze. Eyes turned toward the Imperial delegation.

Mordane didn't hesitate.

He stepped forward, the shadows of the dead trailing behind him like a shadow with weight. His voice carried—not loud, but precise, aimed straight into the gut.

"I speak not as a minister or envoy," he began. "But as the man who commanded the forces that seized the Senate District and burned the last Alliance banner from the towers of the Temple."

He let the silence stretch just a moment.

"The Emperor has offered you freedom. And I am here to guarantee it. The Imperial Military will safeguard your prosperity—not as occupiers or bureaucrats—but as guardians. We do not interfere with profit. We defend it. We do not tax your systems into ruin. We keep your lanes clear of pirates and rebels and false idealists who'd rather debate than deliver."

He took a single step forward.

"Your sovereignty will be protected. Your wealth will be yours to grow. All we ask—" his voice narrowed into the slightest edge— "is your cooperation in making prosperity great again."

He inclined his head to Vipsanius and Wulf, without breaking rhythm, then stepped back, the point made cleanly. No threats. Just inevitability, spoken with a soldier's certainty.

Returning to Vireth, he glanced at her sidelong.

"You're not what I expected," he said. "But neither is Raithal these days."

Then, after a pause, he added, "So tell me—what is it they're teaching at that Institute now? Or do they just let the priests write the war plans these days?"

There was no venom in it. Just dry amusement. A quiet dare.

He was listening now.

 

[Credit Wizard]

Moy Haako, Vicelord of the Neimoidian Purse-Worlds. ​

Moy's cybernetic eye zoomed on the holographic map, as the battle between the Imperial Occupation Force and the Trade Federation Droid Army began to take shape.

Droid tanks advanced down the main thoroughfare of the bridge-city, unleashing their heavy artillery on groups of Stormtroopers taking cover, but they were soon confronted by Imperial Walkers, whose agility provided them with a significant edge in such a confined area.

At this point, the city had turned into a ghost town, with citizens making their way to evacuation points set up by the Trade Federation, leaving behind a largely desolate city for the battle. However, the Vicelord remained assured that they would never penetrate the Great Vaults without incurring heavy losses.

His bony hands clasped behind his back, he kept a close watch on the updates from the regional commanders still loyal to the Neimoidian faction rather than the Directorate. "Status report, Commander Ze'va." He demanded from a nearby communication officer within the situation room, their data-goggles shimmering under the intense crimson emergency lights.

"Vicelord, we are receiving a briefing from our spies in the Capital City. It appears the Directorate is planning to summit to the Imperials despite your warning." The Neimoidian said with a fearful tone, knowing that the Directorate was the key to the Trade Federation and the conglomerate was the major power backing the Purse-Worlds despite Haako's best attempts to separate their influence from them.

Such betrayal was to be expected especially with cowardly Aerarii Tithe being the Deputy Viceroy, a man whose only loyalty was to credits and such saying as "Credits will find a way" or "As was by design." at every opportunity.

"They forget their place, for I am the Vicelord of the Purse-Worlds. Certainly not this Lord Tithe, nor his cronies occupying the Directorate. Send in the Trade Federation assassin droids on the next shuttle out." He offered a slime smile as the order was transmitted.

Soon Vireth Minister Janus Vipsanius Shannic Wulf Domaric Mordane Shute Gunray and even Otto Blank would discover that the Neimoidians were far from the cowardly and submissive beings that the galaxy portrayed them to be.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

TRADE FEDERATION INDUSTROPOLIS // CATO NEIMOIDIA

Shute Gunray | Otto Blank | Credit Wizard
Minister Janus Vipsanius | Shannic Wulf | Vireth | Domaric Mordane

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The Galactic Empire presented its proposal - cooperation, protection, and mutual wealth. Tithe examined the datapad Minister Vipsanius provided, with both his keen Aargauun eyes and his stylish data googles, reviewing the terms of the contract.

“Yes, I do believe you’ll find out markets to be most, ahh, compliant,” Tithe examined as he studied the document, making a mental note to have the risk team assess any ongoing contracts with the Galactic Alliance. If the margins were high and the risk profiles acceptable, they could shift production to an unlisted subsidiary company. The Trade Federation had not risen to its position of galactic dominance by only profiting from one side of the conflict.

“Mmmm. Ahh yes, these terms are, on first glance I must add, most agreeable,” Tithe lied. He could already see clauses and conditions that would not fly with the TF board of directors. While the COMFEAR legal offers were good, they paled in comparison to the lawyers on the backroll of the Federation. “But let's say we leave the petty details to those with less expensive billable hours.” He theatrically tossed the datapad high over his shoulder, sending two service droids scurrying to catch the item before it could hit the ground.

The Deputy Viceroy snapped his fingers, summoning one of his staff to come forward bearing an ornate gift box.

“Consider this a token of our goodwill,” Tithe explained, removing a TF Platinum Card and presenting it to the Minister. “Symbolic, of course. Yes, I understand the Emperor is embarking on an ambiguous project, a, uhh, energy project, I believe I’ve heard it described. Now, the Trade Federation, though the our partnership with the fine Bank of Aargauu, would welcome to opportunity to extend a line of credit. A liquity boost, as it were, on what I do think you will find to be most, most agreeable terms for all parties involved.”

 

[Minister Janus Vipsanius]

Shannic Wulf | Aerarii Tithe | Veodora Kadnessi | Credit Wizard | Gat Tambor | Shute Gunray | Domaric Mordane | Aiko Hayata | Domb Treetor XIX​

Minister Janus Vipsanius offered a subtle nod of deference as the Grand Vizier raised her glass. He did not interrupt her words, no wise man did. Her voice carried the Emperor's will, and Janus was but a steward to the machinery she set in motion. It was only after the Vizier finished, and as Tithe concluded his flourish, that the droids hustled to catch the discarded datapad, and would Janus step forward. A soft smile played across his lips, gracious but measured.

"Truly, the Empire is honored by such magnanimity," he said, accepting the ornate box with both hands and inspecting the Platinum Card within as though it were an artifact of some ceremonial weight. "This token of goodwill, symbolic, yes, but symbols carry weight in these times of transition. They reflect trust. They imply intent, and in this gesture, Deputy Viceroy, I see both."

He looked to the Grand Vizier, then returned his gaze to Tithe.

"The Grand Vizier speaks wisely. To the Empire!"

There was a long pause immediately following the toast. He took a sip and gathered his words.

"As for the 'ambiguous' project…"

He allowed himself the smallest smirk, eyes gleaming with calculated charm.

"Let us say only that the Emperor has never lacked for vision, nor for those capable of financing it. A line of credit through your channels may indeed prove mutually enriching. And should such liquidity be extended, rest assured it will not be forgotten in the ledgers of COMFEAR."

The negotiations were coming along, unbeknownst to them that an order was made by the Vice-lord himself to eliminate them where they stood once and for all. Soon the meeting would be cut short.

 

[Vireth]

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Zarra, Cato Neimoidia, Colonies;
INVASION OF THE GALACTIC ALLANCE, THE RESURGENT GALACTIC EMPIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tags: Minister Janus Vipsanius | Domaric Mordane | Aerarii Tithe | Shute Gunray | Otto Blank | Credit Wizard | Shannic Wulf |

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OBJECTIVE I.

"To freedom and prosperity. To the Empire!"

"To the Empire!" Vireth said loudly as she raised her voice to join in with the ceremonial toast of the Grand Vizier-- another hero of the resurgent Galactic Empire and second only to the Emperor himself. A broad smile plastered itself on the young woman as the room joined in loudly. There was no doubt in her heart, as the chorus died down, that the likes of Aerarii Tithe and his Neimoidian associates that if they did not know it a minute ago then they certainly knew it now.

They were not just dealing with the likes of the decadent Alliance, or the manipulative, cunning and sycophantic Sith Lords in the Outer Rim systems, or even the pretenders in the Imperial remnants who had survived Operation Cinder out there in the Ash Worlds.

This was the Galactic Empire.

It's time was now.

All would bow before our might.

Even the Trade Federation.

"Your sovereignty will be protected. Your wealth will be yours to grow. All we ask... is your cooperation in making prosperity great again."

As the Governor-General stepped forward to speak, Vireth trained her auric eyes upon the man and studied him in ways that only those certain cybernetic enhancements could do. He spoke confidently, bravely, and with purpose which matched his body language and other nuances that were revealed through subtle body movements. This was not a man pretending, or merely putting on a brave face. Mordane was a man of conviction.

These Trade Federation types would ought to do well to listen to him on the advent of a new era of Dark-Imperial and Federation co-operation renewed in the formative days since the Core Wars.

"You're not what I expected... But neither is Raithal these days."

"So tell me—what is it they're teaching at that Institute now? Or do they just let the priests write the war plans these days?"

Vireth kept her gaze on Domaric as he questioned her. "I confess it has been sometime since I or my associates on Kuat have met with a representative of the Church."

As she explained the dichotomy between the Raithal and Church of the Dark Side Vireth broke her smile on purpose. She did not want to give this man the impression of disrespect for he was a man to be feared.

"Operation Regnant continues on schedule. The Institute has made avenues in cybernetic research. I submitted myself to test the Auric prototype before the attack on Coruscant. I can confirm that they are working..." As the unnatural golden eyes glared up at Domaric, Vireth went onto to explain: "Quite recently we were put onto research and design theory regarding an energy renewal programme of importance to the Emperor. We expect more instructions in the coming days..."

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[Inosuke Ashina]

​

With a shrill crackle and hiss, Inosuke's saber came to life. His discarded cane clattered down the stonework, taking the ruse with it. Tight, two-handed maneuvers deflected blasterfire from Imperial agents embedded in the crowd, neutralizing them with their own bolts. He pivoted, extending a hand out from the long, baggy sleeves of his tattered cloak, seizing an agent from higher up with the Force, tossing him into the pit. The Imperal landed hard on the ground directly in the path of one of the Pit's larger beasts. A foot came down and crushed him with a blood-curdling crunch.

The Force propelled Inosuke through the air, leaving his cloak behind in a pitiful pile where he once stood. Mid-flight, he rolled a slow flip before landing directly in front of the restrained Romi Jade and placing himself between her and a pit-beast. The Master twirled, sending sweeping, accurate strokes over Jade's head and shoulders, cutting the restraints from behind. When his pirouette ceased, his saber was held overhead, a high-guard facing down the beast.

Slow steps approached the snarling monster. Tenson broke two feet later, evoking a roar and charge from the animal. At the last moment before impact, Inosuke sidestepped and slashed downward. Flesh sizzled on contact, its headless body slid several feet in the sand, whilst the head rolled away in a different direction. Inosuke turned a glance to Jade, throwing her one of two spare sabers at his waist, brought to arm any lacking Jedi.

Then, he turned, pointed the tip of his saber to stare down Detritus Ren from across the area.

"Stand or surrender, Master of Ren! Your fate has been decided either way!"

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Corin Kaze | Talin Treicolt | Romi Jade | Detritus Ren | Thomas Barran​

 

[Tilon Quill]

EXPEDITIONARY VESSEL WAKE OF BALMORRA
DECLOAKING
TARKO-SE ARENA

The silver lining to flying a double-blind cloaked ship with a little periscope was that, if you had foresight and mechanical skill, you could set up that periscope to tilt its head downward, looking right through your own ship. That was how Tilon flew, that and instinctive astrogation and the voices of the recent dead.

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The Wake of Balmorra — a hundred twenty metres long, flat as an iridescent black-and-gold flapjack — came straight down hard over the arena, trading its cloak for maximum shields. Tilon got a good unpleasant look into the eyes of Thomas Barran in the stands a heartbeat before the wind of his ship's arrival blasted the entire arena into a sandstorm.

The altimeter read exactly seven metres. He didn't touch down. This was Maw country.

Carefully calibrated autoturrets chattered at targets of opportunity, discriminating based on — inter alia — lightsaber color. The ramp was already open. To save a few seconds, Tilon had made the whole approach, slipping through the hanging cities of Cato Neimoidia by periscope, with his ramp down. A pair of B-1 battle droids (Daella and Diana, each capable of 'roger roger' in six million forms of communication) waited at the ramp to give people a hand up under cover of the autoturrets.

Detritus Ren Corin Kaze Inosuke Ashina Talin Treicolt Romi Jade

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR

Inosuke Ashina | Romi Jade | Corin Kaze | Detritus Ren | @Lightsworn


​

The chamber was silent, save for the faint hum of holoprojectors. Blue light bathed the dark stone walls, flickering with the unfolding chaos from the pit on Cato Neimoidia. In the center, the image of Inosuke spun like a phantom as he discarded his cloak, severing both binds and beasts.

A crackle of plasma.

The scream of a creature.

A saber tossed to Romi Jade.

And then a bold challenge leveled across the sand.

The Sith’ari watched… unmoving.

Seated upon an obsidian throne, Darth Solipsis, the Galactic Emperor, gazed upon the hologram like one might a funeral pyre. Not in fear. Not in surprise. But in calculated consideration. A gaunt finger traced the edge of the throne's armrest.

The flickering form of Romi Jade came into sharper relief, free now, weapon in hand.

"What will you do now, Master Jade?”

His terrible glare focused, a dark grin spreading from ear to ear in sick anticipation. She had been his prisoner for nearly two years, for two years he had drained her to sustain his injuries in the aftermath of his duel with Auteme , for two years he fought for control over her mind and secrets. For two long years, he held her. Beaten down, drained half alive, but her will remained unbroken.

He no longer had any uses for her, except one.

The Dark Lord’s unseen gaze settled on Detritus Ren. He leaned forward, one hand raised lazily. Solipsis studied him like a surgeon might examine a graft.

"All paths converge here."

He waved a hand, and the hologram dissolved into shadows.

“As Was By Design.”

He rose from his throne and stepped down the long hallway, the double doors opening to reveal the roar of a crowd. The illumination of the pit.

The Emperor was here.

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

Detritus Ren Corin Kaze Inosuke Ashina Talin Treicolt Romi Jade Tilon Quill

2

'Thats the Ren I know! THATS THE REN I KNOW!!!!'
​

Wild was the crowd, wilder than the Khan expected, but amid the crescendos of emotive stimulation, the one-eyed Woad could sense the slightest makings of danger, turning his gaze back and forth as he tried to spot elements who might not have belonged in such a nest of vipers. Even turning to Ghoul, muttering,'We've got company, Brother.... But I can't tell where they are yet.', as he called on his autumn-red, half-bled Makashi sabre. But before the Bloodhound could allow himself to switch it on, he would wait, scanning the backdrop from his little nook in the audience with baited breath, poised to strike if any such threats happened to be closer than anticipated.

'Like that masked knight, like your brother.... One would be a fool to deny that other foes could be capable of Midichlorian suppressio-'

Seemingly out of nowhere, Jedi burst onto the scene with all the due bluster of a brave, outnumbered attack, and when one in particular exclaimed,'Stand or surrender, Master of Ren! Your fate has been decided either way!', Barran knew it to be an attack from strongest knights of the New-Jedi Order. Though the madness would not end there, for there would be a disturbance of larger scale soon to stand, or rather- levitate in the Khan's way. Looking eye to eye with a decloaking starship's Sharukan captain, the Khan's staredown almost seemed to be glared at a dragon, but Barran no longer feared the firepower of starfighters, even jokingly attempting to make the ship's captain flinch before flashing the most-wicked of goading sneers.

'Ghoul, get the Keshigs out.... This one is mine to endeavour.'

​

Marching to the boundary glass between his respective audience stand and the arena, the one thing between the starship and the one-eyed Woad, the Bloodhound sneered on a approach as he baulked,'The feth are you lookin' at, Core-Worlder?!', spreading arms out in a taunt of readiness as his Sharukan adversary tried to keep him separated from the Master of Ren. The Khan himself would have taken offence to this, though only if he had not been standing ready to block the ship's weapons systems at the time, as this was, and in similar spirit, intended to save the lives of his own subordinates.

'CAN A KHAN NOT INDULGE HIMSELF A LITTLE?!?!'

 

[Talin Treicolt]

Objective II
Location: The Pit
Corin Kaze | Detritus Ren | @the rest of y'all

Another cerulean blade added it's presence to the symbol of hope. The sight was so beautiful it mighta made her cry, if she'd had the the time to enjoy it. It fueled a sense of purpose she had been stumblin' for since landin' on Coruscant two years ago. A wild leap sent her soarin' over the barricade and landin' inside the pit in a crouch. Head on a swivel, she surveyed their position. Kaze takin' on the Empire's champion, as was his right as leader. One of the bound Jedi freed - wait...

Talin recognized that face. It rested on her mantle at home, back on Concord Dawn, a shrine to days gone past. Master Romi Jade was older now, grey and warped by the abuse of her confinement, but it was definitely her. Then came their ride, covering their battlefield in shadows, wrapping it up in sands that spun like whips. Eyes stingin' with the impact of the grains, she broke into a run. There was somethin' within' the heart of the storm that wasn't sittin' a right. A growing darkness.

Blinded, her feet carried her to the nearest Jedi, feelin' out his presence in the force. A violet glow danced off the clouds. She circled around it, closing in on Ren from behind.

 

[Romi Jade]

TARKO-SE ARENA

Being thrown into the pit after striking such a revelation was like a complete sensory overload. Only a few seconds felt like entirely too long, and while she could hone in and connect the details visually, the shouting from the crowd had morphed into some ringing sort of thing in her ears -- like she was underwater. She'd been locked away, had lost much of her strength in the Force, and by this point Solipsis had drained whatever was left.

She needed a human second to adjust.

When her arms threw themselves out, and her hands wanted to busy themselves, she quickly remembered that she was bound in restraints.

"Feth!" she barked, quickly carving into the sand as she knelt, doing what she could to try and pry the restraints; it would never work. From her peripheral she saw the silhouette of something large, and she didn't need the Force to feel that it had locked on to her as a target. She didn't even look on to identify the pit-beast but she knew it was there.

"C'mon, c'monnn." She struggled, and just as the mammalian creature was closing in --

He pivoted, extending a hand out from the long, baggy sleeves of his tattered cloak, seizing an agent from higher up with the Force, tossing him into the pit. The Imperal landed hard on the ground directly in the path of one of the Pit's larger beasts. A foot came down and crushed him with a blood-curdling crunch.

She exhaled whatever air sat on the top of her lungs at that moment -- in disbelief. It was a brief distraction for her predator. "Thank you."

These were Jedi? What was this?

Shrrk!

He sliced through her restraints, and her arms went wide in relief as if running from one another. She pushed herself to her feet shortly after. She watched as cut the monster down, its head landing somewhere near the outlines in the sand where she had been.

She snagged the saber hilt from the air, just as he tossed it. She didn't know if she lost some muscle or something, but this thing felt heavier to her than usual. Her first instinct was to file in behind Inosuke Ashina in his confrontation with Detritus Ren but by then their entire world had become a sandstorm; visuals had become cloaked in sand. Completely. Her hand rose up in protest, then she sunk her face into the inner part of her elbow. The grain had to fall again.

Despite being within the jedi formation, she some how she found herself turned a bit around in the sandstorm, but when things got clear enough for her to see, she laid eyes on Darth Solipsis from across the strip.

Her grip tightened around the hilt...she grew cold and angry inside...

Then in the opposite direction, she saw the Wake of Balmorra and pair of B-1 battle droids...

Corin Kaze | Talin Treicolt | Tilon Quill | Thomas Barran


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[Aerarii Tithe]

TRADE FEDERATION INDUSTROPOLIS // CATO NEIMOIDIA

Shute Gunray | Otto Blank | Credit Wizard
Minister Janus Vipsanius | Shannic Wulf | Vireth | Domaric Mordane

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The deal was done. While the credit pushers and corporate counsels would undoubtedly go back and forth on the finer points of the contract, the leadership of the Galactic Empire and the Trade Federation were in agreement. Commerce would again flow freely through the Core worlds without the ungainly interference of Alliance regulation and oversight.

Tithe waved for the service droids to bring more wine for the celebration. The droids selected a priceless bottle of aged blossom wine from the chiller and turned to bring it to the table.

Neither the droid nor the precious bottle made it.

The blastdoor to the conference hall was blown from its hinges with a deafening explosion. Scores of Trade Federation battle droids filled in, their blasters hosing down the room with crimson energy. The defenders inside - both Imperial and Federation bodyguards - leapt into action to protect their rulers.

“A, uhhh, unfortunate programming error, I dare say,” Tithe explained as he ducked down behind an overturned hoverchair and withdrew a commlink. “Fortunitious, our engineers have foreseen such issues. Yes... just give me... one... moment.” The Deputy Viceroy spoke into the commlink what sounded like a string of Bothan auditing standards.

Tithe looked again. The droids were still firing.

It was only then that he noticed the lines of still-wet purple paint splashed over the droids, the house colour of Vicelord Moy Haako. The Neimoidian had staged a recent coup of the planet, and it seemed he was no more willing to accept Imperial rule than Federation rule.

“It pains me to say, but I fear there may be more to this than a simple malfunction,” Tithe explained as blastbolts exploding around him. “Gentlebeings and honoured guests, if you would be so kind as to follow me. And please, do keep your heads down.” On all fours, Tithe crawled away from the battered conference table and toward a nearby wall decorated with holos of the Trade Federation directors. A series of commands inputted into his commlink activated a hidden escape passage designed to allow Federation executives a means of escape when negotiations turned hostile. The Aargauun darted through the tunnel, hurrying toward the awaiting shuttle that would whisk both Federation and Imperial leaders alike to safety.

“Now, for what it’s worth,” Tithe added as he hurried toward the shuttle, the sounds of battle growing dimmer. “That was only the third most bloody investors meeting I’ve ever attended…”

 

[Tilon Quill]

EXPEDITIONARY VESSEL WAKE OF BALMORRA
UNCLOAKED
TARKO-SE ARENA
ALTITUDE: 7.0 METRES

One of the small bridge's features was a set of dedicated video monitors showing the ship's interior and surroundings, and Tilon was well accustomed to keeping tabs on them while flying the ship. The sandstorm obscured the exterior cameras to one extent or another, but that visual cover wouldn't last. He could already see some developments - the droids helping the first few survivors aboard; the Emperor himself, tall shock of white hair as unmistakable as his goatee; and a figure that struck Tilon with even more powerful recognition.

He'd thought she was dead.

This ship came equipped with exterior speakers, powerful ones, for situations like this. He queued those up as he activated the ship's only real weapon other than the chattering autoturrets and odds and ends: a sixty-year-old Hushaby rotary ion cannon. A turbolaser's worth of firepower, specced to disable electronics, cause comas, knock ships as big as this clear out of the sky.

"Master Romi Jade , this is Captain Tilon Quill. This is Tilon Quill. Get aboard. Please!"

He pointed the rotary ion cannon turret at Darth Solipsis and opened fire. Eight starfighter-scale cannon barrels thunk-thunk-thunked with a resonance he could feel through his chair. The sandstorm surged out away from the fury of its line of fire, leaving clear air between the Wake of Balmorra and the Emperor. Not by any means a sustainable situation.

And just to make things a little worse for everyone, since the ship's nose was already pointed in the general direction of Thomas Barran 's raider coterie, Tilon fired a coma gas boarding harpoon into the stands. He had, at best, seconds to create as much chaos as possible and maximize the brief sandstorm's cover. Then he really, really had to go.

That dead Padawan's voice had stopped. So that was something.

Detritus Ren Corin Kaze Talin Treicolt Inosuke Ashina

 

[Shute Gunray]

"I'd recognize that voice a mile away. Tell me old friend, what brings you here?"

Gunray's chair rotated ninety-degrees in greeting to the Belugan. The neimoidian grumbled strongly up at Otto Blank.

"Otto, my old friend!" Shute's garbled voice intoned. "It is good to see you. Why? I'm here to oversee this grand deal! I've invested much of my life into this organization, my good man." He paused as a rumbling cough battered his chest, then continued. "I can see the credits now. Investing in this project will pay dividends for the remainder of my years. I'll retire rich."

The neimoidian began a slow turn back to the table as the others cheered. He watched Tithe signal for drinks and settle back with a winner's smile. In the years to come, the Trade Federation would profit on the back of the Empire's war, embedded within the very engine that fueled the machine. Weapons contracts and droid armies were only the beginning.

Metal screeched, shaking Gunray from his revere. Droids marched into the room with raised blasters. In seconds, the room lit up with crimson death. A round of three bolts pelted Shute in the side, killing him instantly.

The two MagnaGuard looked down at their deceased master, looked at one another, and drew their electrostaffs. Constructed for war, the armored battle droids charged into the assassin droids and battered them down to the floor with sweeping strikes. Electric pulses impaired their counterparts movements further. A dozen droids fell to the precision charge, picked apart with efficient and direct attacks, but their momentum died after a moment and the storm of blaster bolts destroyed them both.

---

Tags: Aerarii Tithe | Otto Blank | Vireth | Domaric Mordane | Minister Janus Vipsanius | Credit Wizard

 

[Domb Treetor XIX]

OBJECTIVE ONE: SEALED IN SIGNATURE

| Aerarii Tithe | Minister Janus Vipsanius | Shannic Wulf |
| Domaric Mordane | Otto Blank | Vireth |​

Domb had been quiet, just wanting to let Tithe speak and make the deal with the Empire. But then the droids started coming in. It was Dombs first major meeting as TF Settlement Officer but it certainly won't be his last. His thoughts were racing as he crawled behind the Deputy Viceroy down into the secret tunnels. looking behind him to see if the droids were following. None. "Sir! I hope this shuttle is fast!"

(My first ever post on a thread)

 

[Thomas Barran]

@Darth Solipsis Detritus Ren Corin Kaze Inosuke Ashina Talin Treicolt Romi Jade Tilon Quill

3

'I like it! BUT WILL IT BE ENOUGH?!?!'
​

The starship's crew were coming to life behind the armoured shell of the vessel's nose-tip, a matter of which was of no consequence of the Khan's defensive-deflection abilities, but as soon as he sensed the presence of the Dark Lord, there would be no room for risks to the Emperor's life. The Galaxy's great game of power had finally commenced once more, a war in full-effect, but the only chance the Bloodhound had to win it, coincidentally, was by assuring the Dark Voice's long-term survival; though Barran had assumed his leader was capable of defending himself against starfighter extremes of firepower, and though the rotary cannons were likely not enough to slay the Galaxy's most-powerful Sith'ari, the one-eyed Woad would be taking no chances that day.

Not with the nearing sandstorm getting dangerously close to the arena already, as limited visibility would certainly test the Emperor's ability to properly sense incoming shots.

​

Barran then began to crack his knuckles on the right hand, calling on his curved Makashi hilt when he was done on that side, then going on to crack the knuckles on the left before bringing a half-bled, glowing autumnal-orange to life. The Khan likely would have relished in the moment, had it not been for the unfolding bedlam around him, though Barran had no qualms with the abrupt nature of immediate offence, especially not this time. The Bloodhound already had his plan in mind, already set on attempting a feat of strength the Jedi would never forget, and so the Khan poised on his mark; dropping his posture to knee-bent low, leaning toward his intended target-zone, his mind was made up, already bouncing on the front heels of his feet with anticipation.

'BRING IT!!!!'

Like a shot, the one-eyed Woad sprinted into a well-timed leap, speeding into the fray with sabre feigning intent to stab into the ship's armour; drawing a low, two-handed grip into a long feint, set to stab upwards from the hip, as textbook as it would ever get for warriors of the era. Perfect positioning to attempt the impossible, but not with Kyber, not while the Khan was set on solving a problem with brute (though Midichlorian-powered) strength, not while the starship's rotary cannons were still pointed in the Emperor's general direction.

Drastic measures were needed to uphold the Maw's reputation in the eyes of the Emperor, as there would be more than prestige on the line this time, a thought of which would never leave the Khan's mind as his shoulder braced to shunt the nose of his adversaries' starship, but this would fuel the intensity of his Force-Imbued strength on impact. Leaping into center-mass, and with his lightsabre at the hip, still committing to completing it's feinting role for the last few moments, the Khan then put everything into a simulated shield-shunt, shoulder-checking a ship with an audacity that reminisced of the previous century.

'HAAAAAAUUUU-'
[BOOOOOM]
[WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH]​

The Khan could have used the Force to block incoming fire, but he didn't, the Khan could have chosen to use ranged attacks to disorient the tracking tech onboard the expeditionary vessel, but he was hungry to test himself. But for all the bluster, all the bravado required to even attempt shoulder-shunting a ship of that size, there was a merit in the physics of the ultimate shoulder-check; and with it, merit in the accurate application of the impact, resulting in a counterproductive aerodynamic wobble, that of an extreme grand enough to ruin any chance of an accurate salvo on the Emperor and Khan's entourage alike.

The starship would rock on a singular, four-sided rocking axis, and though it remained in the air, the recoil from the impact was enough to knock the ship into a position that forced it's nose down, working from an angular, listing correction in the effort to create air-braking inertia. Fortunately for the crew aboard, the shoulder shunt had hit with enough force to detach it from it's Gas-Harpoon tether, and to grant another boon in the midst of the mayhem, the sandstorm would reach the ship just in time to obscure it from the gaze of the Khan.

'AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!! YOU SNEAKY BASTARDS!!!!'