Faction Ready... Set... FIGHT! | Agents of Chaos

[Scherezade deWinter]

Summer had arrived on Eve. In the city center, not too far away from the tower, stood the foundations of a building. There was still no name for what it would be called once it was done, but Scherezade already knew plenty about its contents. In a few months, this location would be her building of training - not just for the Wild Hunt, not just for the Silencers, not just for anything, but one that anyone could enjoy. The R&D teams of Whimsy had been working tirelessly to come up with a way to create various types of Danger Rooms, with a focus on making them feel hyper realistic while locations and enemies were conjured.

As part of the construction, Scherezade had ordered a slew of basic weapons which were meant to be part of the very walls. Anything from vibroblades, to swords, to even old lightsabers that still worked, alongside various sorts of firearms, were all her, in large crates. Next week, when the walls would start filling in, all those weapons would be made part of the building as well. It was going to be glorious.

The sun beat down on the Sithling as she walked to the center of the floor, opening a crate of weapons. This box appeared to have mostly swords in it, and she peeked at them, testing a few. About half of them had gone blunt on the edge, and many of the others would as well once they were locked in a wall, she guessed.

Which meant…

Scherezade grinned as she flicked her commdevice. "Anyone up for a spar?" she released into the Agents of Chaos' network and some more individuals who were on the Scintilla at the time, "Got boxes of old weapons we can play with, and the nearest infirmary is close if any of you get tetanus!" And with that, she sent the address.

It was a good afternoon for a fight. And since the offices had their second lunch break soon, she knew there would also be arriving a crowd of people who just wanted to watch...

A friendly spar to get those PvP muscles warmed up! You can bring your own weapons if you want to ♥

 

[Annasari]

Wearing: Echani Accuracy Gloves

Annasari was housed within her room when the comm device on her bed stand beside her came to life. She looked up from her datapad, half surprised to hear Scherezade deWinter voice coming through, sounding very mischievous. She considered the woman's words for a moment, before rising to toss on some real clothes and collect her accuracy gloves that had helped her so many times before.

As she made her way through the streets, her excitement grew to the point you could almost see it in her stride. Back in her youth, she had taken on sparring, her small stature making her much quicker than her opponents. Although she stepped away just a few years later, Annasari still sometimes ached for the action and glory it had brought her.

When she arrived at the building, she looked around, slightly confused. Since her time with the Agents of Chaos, she had learned they did all things flashily; this building was such a step back from that it slightly shocked Annasari. Nevertheless, it would work for their purposes today. She found the woman who had called her down standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few boxes with what looked like scrapped weapons in them. As Annasari approached, she let out a cocky grin.

"Well, this should be fun." She stated, her smile growing wider.

She squatted down next to the boxes to see if there would be anything of use in there, then grimaced, seeing the weapons in such poor shape. She took a step back again, deciding her gloves would be enough today. After all, you may not always have a weapon around when danger struck - best to prepare yourself for any scenario.

 

[Enlil]

Days separated them from the duty that Enlil had taken upon himself. It was another chance to grasp at wisdom, an opportunity to learn more about this massive Galaxy beyond the world he had known. In the midst of all that, conflict promised to break out.

He knew that diligence and practice were the only promised method to yield results. In order to make good on his word, that the people of Siskeen would not suffer for whatever blows came between their Viceroy and the False Government that held them against their will, the King had to break a sweat.

And he had to trust that these so called Agents of Chaos were prepared for the reality of bloodshed, as well.

Thus far, they seemed... lively.

Enlil looked over them with a practiced apathy, his Ruby gaze not betraying any emotion. It was unbecoming to show anything but certainty in the face of adversity. He lifted on arm across his chest and stretched the muscles in his shoulder taut, the other arm hugging the first to him. After a count of fifteen, he switch to the opposite arm. All the while, he tilted his head one way, slowly, then the other. Comfortably timed, balanced, even stretches.

He wore no shirt, only loose fitting pants. Thus, his strange tribal patterned tattoos were on display for everyone to see. Notably on his left hand, he wore the Claws of Aslu.

"We should begin when a few more people arrive, and you feel we are ready," he told the woman in charge of the group.

Scherezade deWinter / Annasari / Y Yeetus Deletus

 

[Hanna]

Hanna, Post 1
Equipment: Training Outfit, 2 ZW-001 ‘Ifrit’ Pattern Heated Vibroweapons - Short Sword Variants, 1 Whimsy Knife
Scherezade deWinter Annasari Y Yeetus Deletus Enlil

As a Wild Huntress, combat training, weightlifting, and exercise was a daily ritual for Hanna. She had been slowly ramping up her activity since her return to Scintilla, and she had not hesitated in returning to active duty as soon as she recovered from her surgeries. In addition, Hanna knew that she had an obligation to be an exemplary Huntress, given her recent selection to the Council of the Wild Hunt. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for a few of the other members of the newly-formed assembly. Regardless, Hanna did not intend to let herself slip to their level. She did not consort with the likes of mercenaries, criminals, or thugs, but rather, dedicated servants who were unflinching in faith and wholly committed the cause of the Agents of Chaos.

To her, that was what being a Wild Huntress meant.

Hanna had finished her third prayer of the day when she received the message from Scherezade on her datapad. Without a moment of hesitation, Hanna picked up the large briefcase which held a small selection of weapons. Then, she called a taxi to fly her to the training site, opting to take an airspeeder over the public hovertrain network so that she could reach the address as soon as possible.

Once she arrived, Hanna entered the bare-looking building and quietly took in her surroundings. From the outside, the structure was quite distinct since it appeared so inelegant and modest compared to the other structures in the city. It was the same on the inside, with artificial sunlight streaming in through the upper rafters.

A few individuals had already arrived, including a massive Skakoan juggernaut who bore a cruel smile across their thin green lips. However, the most distinct figure in the room was the shirtless man with tattooed symbols across his toned chest. Her gaze pored over the gold gauntlet on his left hand, which looked to be worth more than the apartment complex she lived in. Nevertheless, Hanna looked for Scherezade and smiled upon seeing her. For reasons that she didn’t understand, the woman reminded her of Madalena. They were both tall and strongly-built, but also possessed brilliant green eyes of an unnatural shade.

She couldn’t help but to wonder if the two women were somehow related.

 

[Strider Garon]

The beskar clad mandalorian walked into the training arena, his battle scored helmet was magnetically attatched to his utility belt with Visor and Jaig eyes pointing down. His old yellow cape, given to him by Gilimar Skirata when promoting him to Field Marshal, draped off his shoulders and held secure by a leopard fur sash. The Sash was complete with the taxidermied head of the large cat resting on his shoulder looking forward with out eyes or a skull. Strider had a lit shento cigar gripped between his lips as he moved further into the facility, his left hand resting on the hilt of the hussar saber that dangled off his left hip. His harden gaze fell upon Scherezade deWinter , a woman made enemy by the long lasting blood feud between deWinters and Garons. Strider kept his unflinching focus on the young deWinter as he reminisced on how life would of been different if he had succeeded in assassinating her grandmother. How many mandalorians would still be alive without a deWinter haunting them. A failure Strider bared hard living the consequences into his venerable age.

"I will fight you!" The grizzled voice held no love for his would be opponent and aired more like a direct challenge than a exhibition of skill and training. "I...will spar you" He reiterated, making sure there was no confusion in his intention. Though, given a chance any other time in their history he would of rather had gutted the girl from stem to end and play skip rope with her intestines. Not today though, the old man needed to train and what better way to train then up against the likes of Scherezade.

 

[Brie Jaxx]

The afternoon sun on the clear sky gave some warmth to otherwise young summer that had just arrived to Eve. The wall of the not half done bulding felt rough against Brie's hand as she drew it against it, while strolling alongside whatever sort of establishment it should become. Music streamed from her headphones while she walked, chewing on a nutrition bar that she held in the other hand. Today was one of those rather lazy days when you would not get very much done, hence why she had went for just a comfy pair of grey sweat pants and a sweatshirt in the same color. More than cleaning it and very loosely combing it, she had not paid much attention to her blonde tuft under the headphones.

Eve. The base of the bunch of people that called themselves the Agents', the Agents of Chaos, and to which she also belonged to now. To which she hoped to have found a place in, at least in some regards. No one were the same as the other one around here. She guessed there was as many different characters of different species and backgrounds as there was stars on the night sky. Their differences apart, they were united by one common cause and brother- and sisterhood.

Was this what she would call... home, now? Was she supposed to... settle down? No. She simply couldn't, even if she wanted to! She still had hopes to find her parents. Someday she would, but for the time being she were grateful having been invited into the Agents' and felt very much welcome. Due to her past, she were not the most social or talkative of them, but she worked on it.

"I will fight you!"

A grizzled voice reached through the headphones just as she walked past an open doorway in the wall. When throwing a glance inside, she noticed it was some kind of training or sparring arena. Brie could not help to think about that illegal fight that she were forced into by slavers in the far reaches of the Outer Rim. That time when she met Scherezade deWinter , the same woman that beat her that time and afterwards would convince her to join her and the Agents'. Brie saw her in there and reached for the headphones, pulling them down around her neck then pulled a strand of hair out of her face. While she did not want to fight today, she could as well take a seat as a spectator. She had not anything else to do, so... Why not? Brie thought before she walked in quietly and took a seat at a bench on the side.

 

[Will Westender]

Attn: Open​

Will pulled gently on the throttle, allowing the Firebird to slow down to a comfortable cruising speed as he approached the station, a finger lazily tapping the instrument panel as he waited for the usual docking instructions from whoever was in charge of running space traffic control today. Before long, the comms crackled to life as a bored voice called for his ship's name. Feeling sympathy for the poor soul who drew the short straw, or however it was that these anarchists assigned jobs, he flicked a few switches on the instrument panel, an indicator lighting up to inform him that the freighter's IFF transponder scrambler was now active. "This is the, uhh..." he replied, pausing for a second to glance at the status screen, eyes scanning for whatever name the scrambler had given him. "... Ahriman's Aching Ziggurat," he said, in a tone as bored as that of the traffic controller.

"We're merchants transporting medical supplies," the smuggler explained, his usual lie when ferrying deathsticks. Not that the people on this forsaken sphere had enough of a legal system to outlaw such things, but one never knew who might be listening in on his comms and while the Firebird was more than capable of securing its communications, he didn't extend his faith to the station's systems.

"Medical supplies, you say..." the bored voice on the other end answered, the tone clearly indicating that whoever he was talking to, didn't buy the lie. "Okay, Ziggurat. Go ahead and land on pad fifteen, no, twenty-seven, no, scratch that... Whatever, just pick an empty pad and land there. You're cleared to dock and yadda, yadda, the usual stuff."

"Copy that, harbormaster," Will responded, closing the channel and extending the Firebird's landing gears.

He brought the ship in, eyeing for a nice and secluded pad away from the hustle and bustle, hailing the client on encrypted comms to let him know his 'merchandise' had arrived. Stopping by the cabin to check on Karma Jayne on his way to the armory and seeing her still curled up in bed, he decided to let her sleep through this one. Arming himself with the usual blaster pistol and lightsaber, the latter hidden safely up his sleeve, strapped to his forearm, his loaded up the repulsorcart with the crates and strode down the cargo ramp, heading towards the provided address in the city center.

It didn't take him long to navigate the city, arriving at some building which seemed to be still under construction. Knowing this is where the client indicated he should drop off the shipment, he didn't bother with knocking, pushing open the doors, the repulsorcart following in after him. Eyes scanning the faces of those present, along with their weapons, he sighed.

It looked like he had walked into the middle of a fight about to start. Just my luck, he thought. Lacking the patience to wait until these people settled... whatever grudge they were about to settle, he rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, but before you murder eachother, can one of you tell me who's here to pick up the shipment and give me my money?"

 

[Brie Jaxx]

Brie sat quietly there on the bench, leant forward and pursing her lips in contemplation for the fights to begin. Surely there was just friendly spars, right? Although, the man in mandalorian armour looked like he wanted to tear Scherezade apart right then and there. Not very far from what Scherezade had looked and behaved when they met in that cage fight a couple of weeks ago. It sounded like they had some sort of history, and probably not a good one, behind them. They were on Eve though, and she guessed none of them would be here if they weren't attached to the Agents' in some way and with that fought for the same cause. Even if not everyone would consider themselves best friends with everyone, they would not kill eachother. To anyone who would notice her she would give a small smile and a nod as a greeting.

"Excuse me, but before you murder eachother, can one of you tell me who's here to pick up the shipment and give me my money?"

In a sense, the voice that wanted everyones attention gave some comical relief to the carnage that was about to be unleashed and Brie turned her head to the man with the repulsorcart, quickly trying to take in a first impression of who he was. With another look at the others and a short pause, she stood up and approached the man.

''I can take it...'' she said enthusiasticaly, but later gave the repulsorcart another look, one of slight suspicion. It was an odd place to come and make a delivery too, and she could not help but to wonder what that crate hid.

''What is it?'' she asked frankly and glanced at the man.

Figuring that little detail that the man did want his payment, ''Umm, I don't know about the credits, though... Wait a sec...'' she continued and turned her head back to the others, giving Scherezade, the only one she realy knew in the room and had some sort of connection with, even if it was an unusual one, a questioning glance. She hoped that the brunette woman would know of the shipment.

Scherezade deWinter Strider Garon Annasari Will Westender Enlil Hanna Y Yeetus Deletus

 

[Salem Norongachi]

The Kark Off, local purveyor of cheap booze and cheaper clientele was silent. It was early morning, the artificial sun of Scintilla barely kissing the ramshackle abodes of the Slums, and Salem Norongachi had just risen from his cot above the bar. It had been a hell of a night, even by the Karks standards, some local navy boys had somehow found their way to their little slice of shite and being navy boys over-estimated their importance in the food chain.

Sal stood at the back door to the bar and leaned against the doorframe, surveying his shattered kingdom. He’d have to make some calls of course, make sure none of the higher ups got the wrong idea of what had gone down with their personnel. Last thing he needed was a contingent of security forces making the rounds, they’d end up with more law breakers than they had jail space and he’d be down to zero profit margin.

He checked his chrono, the kid would be in soon. Which was lovely because putting this humpty-dumpty back together looked like a major ballache. Still, he made a lackluster start and began picking teeth off the bartop and sorting through the glassware for what was salvageable.

He’d just got together four pint glasses and six whiskey (and an assortment of pearly whites that would have made a Tooth Fairy take out a second mortgage), when the door creaked open and the kid walked in. He hadn’t been working last night so, understandably, he said “Dude…” as he surveyed the broken tables, chairs, lighting fixtures, head-shaped holes in the walls and six or so liters of blood thrown slap dash across any surface that would put it up for the night.

“Perfect timing kid,” Sal beamed, popping up from behind the bar.

“My names-”

“That's great,” Sal cut him off, throwing a bar rag at him as he vaulted the bartop and landed on the other side with a crunch of glass beneath his boots. “Clean this up would ya, I’m off to the gym.” the kid, his brown hair styled with enough product to punch a hole through a cruiser's hull, looked at him doubtfully.

“The gym?”

“Yes…” Norongachi said it slowly and clearly, he didn’t really know the kid, maybe he was a bit slow. Which would explain why he kept turning up for work in this dump. “The gym.”

“At your age?”

“I-I do-How-” the words cut each other off in the process of being the first to exclaim his outrage. “I’m only 44!” give or take a few thousand years of deep sleep but that was a whole other story.

“The hell happened to you?” there wasn't a hint of mirth in the kids voice but Sal’s face became a stoney mask.

“The toilets are backed up, and I lost the plunger. I don’t think we have any gloves either. See that it's done.” the tone could have unblocked a stubborn u-bend all by itself, then he turned and stepped into the street.

It wasn’t really a gym, he didn’t expect to see anyone doing boxercise or yoga when he arrived but being that this was Eve, capital city of Scintilla and homeworld of the Agents of Chaos he wouldn’t have been surprised if they had a full zumba class going when he arrived.

He got to the edge of the slums and hailed a robo-cab (They didn’t go into the slums, being that when they left -if they left- it was usually with far fewer parts). He gave his destination to the droid and it whirred off into the skylanes.

Sal watched the world go by through the windows, noting the rapid transition between the haves and have nots (the give away was a consistent architect and building material). He could have walked, he could have ran, he could have force ran, leaping from building to building like a show off arsehole but as the years wore on he was always reminded of the age old proverb ‘Why have a Vornskr and hunt Force Users yourself?’. The cab touched down and he slapped his credit chit against the reader and stepped out into the street.

The building in front of him wasn’t quite a building, if anything it should have had ‘site’ after its descriptor but he heard voices on the other side of the half constructed wall. When he stepped through the plastic sheeting that stood in for a door, he saw the gathering before him.

“This clearly is not where I parked my speeder.” he muttered, letting his gaze flit across the scene.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Annasari Y Yeetus Deletus Enlil Hanna Strider Garon Brie Jaxx Will Westender Salem Norongachi

The first woman to arrive at the scene was the redhead, @Annasri. Scherezade knew her from their meeting on Siskeen, and she had heard praises about her potential from Alwine as well. But all that dwarfed to nothing when the woman smiled and said it would be fine. That wide smile let Scherezade know that they were both at the right place at the right time.

The next to join was Y Yeetus Deletus , and Scherezade just stuck her tongue out at him. "We've got Churi stool samples if you really wanna take it to that direction," she warned the Skakoan.

@Enli showed up immediately after that, and the Blood Hound almost immediately offered him to spar with her, when he said instead that they should wait for more people. Fine. But she still wanted to know what he was capable of. He would be part of the delegation that would soon be going to Siskeen, and it was always best to know how the people on your side fought when it was needed, and how to build efficient battle teamwork out of it.

"Oh, hey, I've been wanting to see how you fight!" Scherezade grinned when Hanna arrived. She knew her sister was training the Wild Hunt like nobody's business, and she'd fought with some of them before, but she hadn't seen Hanna in months and didn't know where she stood.

She waved to Brie Jaxx as she showed up, and while she heard the words of @@Will Westender, it was Brie Jaxx 's quick response that kept her from needing to break away from the weapons to go take care of stocks. Except… Yeah, there came that look from Brie. Scherezade removed a tiny pouch from her belt and tossed it to the woman. It held enough business credit cards she could use to pay for the shipment, and Scherezade would handle the accounting aspect of it later. Who the heck would've thought she'd ever become knowledgeable about accounting?

Another person entered, a Salem Norongachi . It took her a moment, but she recognized him, remembering him from that place in the slums where she'd entered leaving literal blood prints behind her because she'd been injured in a fight. He refused to get her anything to eat. Still, she liked hm, and she wanted to go greet him, when-

And then came that voice…

Scherezade's eyes moved to him. Strider Garon . She didn't need him to remove his helmet to know who he was. The sound of his voice was well engraved in her mind, courtesy of the memories her grandmother had burned into it before she released her from her imprisonment. The man was a large reason of why the deWinter-Mandalorians blood feud began so many centuries ago. It was why Scherezade had inherited so much racism and dislike for the Mandalorians, and why only a year ago she'd been such a prominent warrior in all the wars that had been opened against them.

But that was a year ago. These days, the place that Scherezade had helped create, the Agents of Chaos and everything that had to do with the Scintilla, was one that was open to Mandalorians. Not just passively open - sometimes they would intentionally seek them out. There was a lot of anger that many of the clans held after what had been done to them, and no one was above exploiting that. It wasn't just abuse though; the Mandalorians had been promised a free Mandalore in return for their help. And they had already gone once to the planet in the attempt to free it from SIth Empire hands, but that attempt had failed.

The Agents had learned a lot that day.

Still, a rusty sword flew into Scherezade's hand at the sound of the challenge. "Fight me," she provoked the old man with a wicked grin, one that almost mirrored that of her mother, Nessarose deWinter, another one of her family that had directly fought against him so long before the Gulag began to spread. "You've never succeeded in killing my grandmother," she half purred, "I want to see why she never succeeded in killing you either."

Scherezade used the moment to launch herself at Strider Garon , her sword coming to swing from her top right side down diagonally, ready to scrap his armor across his torso if he did not move or block her on time.

 

[Brie Jaxx]

Brie caught the pouch of business credit cards with a light jump on the spot, and directed a soft and thankful smile to the brunette woman. Many would have called it odd if they knew their story from when they met and how she ended up here, but the woman had given her a place and another purpose by inviting her into the Agents'. For that she were thankful and drew inspiration from the woman, her fighting style - which she had experienced first hand, and the like. Was she a rolemodel? Maybe!

Brie turned to the man again and opened the pouch that she had recieved from Scherezade.

''Great! How much would do we owe you...?''

Scherezade deWinter Strider Garon Annasari Will Westender Enlil Hanna Y Yeetus Deletus , Salem Norongachi

 

[Salem Norongachi]

The boxes of weapons drew Norongachi’s eye and he began to riffle through them, weighing up each dagger, sword and staff one by one before settling on a simple sword. Its hand guard had long since given up the ghost and the handle and the tarnished blade were separated only by the faded synth-leather grip.

He gave it a few slices through the air to get the balance right in his hand and then twirled it 360 degrees until it pointed at the sky again. It wasn’t a bad weapon, he thought, just needed a little love. His shoulder gave a click as he brought it down diagonally, then his knee when he hopped forward for a thrust at his imaginary foe. “It's not the only one..” he said quietly before he heard the challenge and then the response.

Norongachi wasn’t entirely sure what came first; thought or impulse, but before he knew it the Force flooded into his body and he felt the snap and sizzle of muscle and bone given a new lease on life. The world crawled around him, time taking a smoke break at an opportune moment, and then he was between the Mandalorian and Scherezade deWinter . His blade flicked up, caught the edge of hers and sent it to the side in a clang of sparks.

“Mind if I cut in bleeding lady?” Sal asked with a lopsided smile.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Annasari Y Yeetus Deletus Enlil Hanna Strider Garon Brie Jaxx Will Westender Salem Norongachi

Her blade had been intercepted, but not by the Mandalorian. Instead, it was that bar owner from the Slums that she liked, even though he'd been a butthole who'd refused to feed her when she was starving after a fight and needed nourishment in order to close the bleeding holes said fight had left in her body.

Scherezade grinned and called the sword back to her hand.

"If you make me actually bleed, you're buying me lunch," she winked at him and went on the offensive again, the sword in her left hand making a horizontal swipe for both of his kneecaps. Even if it - the sword was too blunt to actually cut. But she figured, with the amount of strength she put into the move, it would definitely leave a bruise.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

A standing jump cleared the kneecapitation and a sharp kick at her face was his retort before he landed on the ground and backed up a step. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d moved that fast, or felt the drum beat of his heart above resting. This might not have been a gym but he clearly needed one and made a mental note to find somewhere to train when he got back to the Slums.

“I guess I won’t be cutting you then, I’ve seen the way you deWinters eat.” Sal smiled his mind casting back to a bygone era when another deWinter, her essence within the Force eerily similar to the girl before him, had decimated the local chicken wing population.

Words spoken he danced in to strike, his blade flicking and feinting left and right before dipping low and then rising up with a slash from hip to collarbone.

Scherezade deWinter Strider Garon Annasari Y Yeetus Deletus Brie Jaxx Enlil Will Westender