Faction Rocky Road to Jutrand- Sith Intro

[Jonathan Washburne]

Jonathan let out a content, and rarely genuine smile as he picked at the short, four stringed banjo in his lap. The sounds echoed about the small cabin of the starship he'd just bought after his recent adventures in the outer rim. In front of him, the viewport of the cockpit showed an endless galaxy of possibilities that for the first time in his life, was open to him. No more slavery for lesser beings. Behind him sat a GA research crew he'd picked up after eliminating the criminals, they just happened to be in the wrong bar with the wrong opportunist. There were four of them, a blue green male twilek, a shortish human female, one very aggressive older bothan, and one pudgy elder human. Not a very hard group to kidnap. He didn't know what the Sith would or wouldn't want with them, but he figures if he wanted to show up looking for training, he might do well to show up with a gift. He shushed them whenever they would protest, and put a bag on the bothan when they wouldn't stop yapping. He put in the hyperspace coordinates and continued strumming as the vessel took off into the icy void. After that, his journey was filled with the merciful hum of engines, and the dull buzzing of hyperspace. The music of one of the few joys of his youth filling his restless, ever twisting mind.


The ship exited hyperspace above Jutrand, almost immediately coming under the scrutiny of the Sith Navy as a foreign vessel with no affiliation to them, trade or otherwise.

"Vessel, identify yourself and your purpose, now." The Naval Commander sternly keyed at him as he approached the station slowly as way courtesy in such situations if one intended to follow the law.

"Hello there friends, my name is John. I've got some people I found that some of your folks might want to talk to, as a gesture of goodwill, and with the most ernest hope to join your Grand Empire."

Jonathan thought that sounded decent enough. He hoped they wouldn't fire on him.

"Standby.... John." The commander replied, presumably communicating the situation to someone above him. John's ship showed every indication of being friendly, scan wise and the disposition of the situation within the craft.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Jonathan Washburne
Location: Jutrand, Lesser Spire Spaceport - Docking Sector Sixteen
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The Lesser Spire was not a place that she frequented.

It smelled of rust and coolant...Of ozone, oil, and scorched metal. Cargo haulers groaned under their own weight, hydraulic lifters hissing like dying beasts, and voices echoed through the durasteel towers in a dozen dialects. Most of them were sharp, quick, and vulgar. The pale woman paid it very little mind. This part of Jutrand saw smugglers, mercenaries, bounty peddlers, and even low-ranking Sith Lords that needed a place to complete less than savory business without the ever-watchful Eternalist eye falling on them.

It was not a location that most would consider appropriate for the Lady Talon...Yet—Her path had led her here regardless.

The sepulchral would wail and whine, their dead, putrid breath almost ceasing with horror from the improper deeds of their unwanted Empress, who negatively flaunted every level of ritual and what they considered civility and propriety to the crown. A ripple passed through the bay before anyone saw her. It was invisible, but the people of this synth city paused, raised their heads, as if they had been called to attention. It lasted only a moment, and it eased in one collective exhale when she passed the dark mouth of a maintenance corridor. None would understand the chill that ran down their spines. The silent call, the need, to look for direction.

Hers was a presence that carried an unfamiliar, pleasing scent, that of cloying jasmine and rain....It didn't belong here any more than she did.

But it was power—Her power, her control, boiling, just beneath the surface.

A dark hood was pulled up to conceal her features, but long lengths of ivory hair spilled free regardless. Srina moved across the grimy duracrete with the surreal calm of a mistaken dream. Her robes, pitch-black and hemmed with ghost silver, whispered with her so easily that they scarcely seemed to touch the ground. Her presence folded the air in on itself. She did not belong. But there were no guards, no fanfare.

Just her.

No one dared speak to her. Not even the local overseer, a Sith pureblood, whose breath caught like a youngling when the pieces began to collect. When the truth of her began to percolate, through glances, gossip, and the lines of a face that the majority of Jutrand knew all too well. He backed slowly into a service elevator and did not come back out.

There were very few reasons someone of her stature came to the Lesser Spire.

None of them were good.

The Blackwall served in keeping out most intruders, but the Legions were diligent in ensuring their borders, ever expanding, were maintained. It was rare that an unregistered vessel made its way this far into the heart of Sith Space unnoticed. It was even more unusual to note what the captain of the ship claimed to have in his possession for...trade....?

Most of her was inclined to call it for the farce it seemed to be and have the ship blasted from its moorings. No citizen of their largest enemy would allow themselves to be so easily captured, nor would their government leave their people unprotected on a mission so close to their territory. That was madness. Their northern neighbors were many things...but mad was not one of them. So...It was either the most serendipitous cargo ever, or it wasn't related to the Galactic Alliance at all. It was...Very strange.

Strange...And it smelled like a trap.

She made her way into the building that housed spaceport command for the Lesser Spire and soon enough found herself introduced to the airwaves. The Legions had their own masters to report to, but none would question if the wife of the Emperor came to handle things personally. It was a situation that was most literally out of their hands, and it wasn't their place to question "why" it might garner her attention. Her head tilted, slowly, surveying the information that had been gathered on a single ship that should have been torn apart long before it reached Jutrand. How? Her eyes were distant. Not curious.

Calculating.

"Report."

The officer standing behind her snapped up straight, his mouth dry as dust. The Lady Talon had entered the room like a shadow walking across flame—Unburned, untouchable. He wondered what it was that she knew that they did not, but her soft voice ended that line of thinking. Her tone was smooth and never rose in pitch, but somehow, commanded everything before her. "Unknown registry. No code. No chain of command...Could be a clean ship, or it could be a transponder mask."

He swallowed hard.

"Ma'am. How should we proceed?"

"Speak with him further. Confirm what the vessel carries, what the captain believes it is worth, and the identity of any personnel....Tell the captain to lay down any arms and prepare to be boarded. His ship is in a place it should not be. For that, we require answers."

The young man nodded and tapped his earpiece gingerly.

"Captain John...Follow the commands of the traffic controller, and you may dock at the station. Our superiors wish to know what you carry and their intended value. If you harbor any fugitives, weapons, or illegal goods—Declare them now. Lay down your arms. Prepare to be boarded for inquiry."

They needed to ensure that the vessel and its contents weren't a threat to the Lesser Spire.

It would only take one good bomb to wipe out the port, surely, this Captain would be aware that security protocols would scrutinize every bit of this surprise entry. There were known small holes in the Blackwall....But this was new.

Srina would exercise...Patience. She would wait before acting.

 

[Jonathan Washburne]

John smiled as the commander returned his initial response not with oblivion and fire, but instructions. "Roger that. Just me, my blaster, a lightsaber, and my four new companions. From their patches and own words they seem to be a research team, apparently mapping the history of the Wroona, best they could. They were a bit outta their territorry but probably felt safe in High Republic Space. They would've been right, but I needed to make a stop and they seemed as good a gift as any. As for what I want for them, just an audience with someone that can feel the universe the way I can. I think you'll find our goals aligned." He paused as he began to follow the transmitted protocol. "Following instructions now."

Something creeped at the edges of his perception, a coldness, not unlike his own, but deeper. Like a vast dark pool that had filled the space around the station with an inexorable mist, invisible to the naked eyes but percevable for those with the eyes to see or a mind to feel it. Such moments often manifested in tones. Something that he simply took as a leftover from his ubringing, the ebbs and flows of the force sounded like the most beautiful of tunes to him, and had always been a way for him to detach from his horrible circumstances. Regardless of the endless hell of his childhood, the darkness had always been there to comfort him, creating the sweetest and coldest of tones. Suffering was the soundtrack to the whole galaxy, death the only escape from the wheel.

The Bothan began thrashing about as the captives listened to the conversation, fully aware that a quick death would've been favorable to what awaited them on planet.

"You've got this all wrong, friend." He felt the Bothans raw fear and rage eminating from their soul across the tiny interior. "This is a chance to grow. Or a chance to have your suffering end." His predatory smile flashed as he spun about in his seat. "The only reason you feel like you do now. Is because you have been blessed with an easier life than the hare in the field. By nature of birth. Rejoice that you weren't born in that field. This is only the end if you refuse to see what the galaxy is telling you." He laughed. His captives thrashed about, prayed, and went through the rows of the condemed as the ship docked and the exit ramp began to lower. "I'll go great our new landlords, ya'll just stay put and I'm sure they'll collect ya in a moment. He strolled off the ramp slowly anf full of confidence, with his hands in plain view and a wide smile on his face as a gathering of various security and Naval personnel fretted over his ship, with a few bearing down on him just in case. "Can't blame ya for that." He said with a friendly nod at the blasters. Mildly making the youngest trooper pointing a blaster at him uncomfortable. He showed no negative reaction to the stakes of the situation, only cold politeness.

Srina Talon

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Jonathan Washburne
Location: Jutrand, Lesser Spire Spaceport - Docking Sector Sixteen
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The moment the mystery ship completed its docking sequence, the Empress was already watching.

Not from a balcony above, not from behind a reinforced pane of transparisteel, like some delicate imperial ornament, but from the ground floor. The walls did not box her in. The ceiling did not render her blind. Delicate fingers adjusted her hood, keeping it drawn, but the pale woman remained still as stone amidst the coiled cables and grime-slick plating of the Lesser Spire's command. Her presence pressed toward a place high above their heads while she searched for a particular tone in the Force. In truth?

She was looking for Jedi.

Unless they were extremely skilled in clouding their Force Signature, they would be hard-pressed to escape the purview of one with her sight. She saw them as glimmering phantoms that haunted the peripherals like incessant insects. They were neither chaotic nor calm; rather, they echoed with a discordant note. Like a minor chord. Once she knew what to look for...The absence of their light. The absence of harmony. It wouldn't take the Echani long at all to sense what was out of tune.

Srina could see the intruder both within the Force and from the holos at the monitoring station. So peculiar. The man who emerged from the ship walked as if the soldiers who were prepared to board his vessel were old friends. Not a hostile force. He had the swagger of a cocky creature, mixed with the particular ease of someone too familiar with danger and not familiar enough with consequence. "When the situation has been assessed..."

"Have the prisoners transferred to holding. Impound the ship and search it...Top to bottom. No exceptions."

"Yes, milady."

"And bring the Captain to me."

The soldier paused, imagining for a moment, that heads were set to roll. The golden-eyed Echani wasn't known for being particularly cruel, but her orders were always obeyed. As if they couldn't help themselves. Eventually, Jonathan Washburne would find himself escorted to the command bay with the youngest naval officer ensuring compliance with a blaster aimed at center mass. It would take time, even if there weren't security measures to observe. A few shuttles and more than a few repulsorlifts later... He might notice that every member of the Legion he crossed seemed to stand straighter. Taller. As if they had someone to impress.

When the final door opened, the guards subtly shifted. They were not her guard...But they were tasked with keeping the Emperor's peace.

The Empress tended to make that difficult.

"Steady."

The soldier locked in his stance, and the one holding a blaster nearly flinched. Not from the intruder, but from her. His weapon wavered by a centimeter, which was a centimeter too much. Srina held out her hand, and the blaster tore from his grasp and landed in her waiting hand. The pale woman didn't bother to aim it at all and merely held onto it.

"Welcome to Jutrand, Captain..."

Her words flowed like silk when she stepped forward, simple and elegant. Her boots made no sound as they leisurely crossed he duracrete, yet with every step, the Force rippled outward. It was not pressure, but expressed certainty. Like gravity. Inevitability. She stopped a short distance from their guest. Near enough to look him in the eyes and distant enough that he would need to speak up to be heard. When she spoke next, her words were low, unrushed. It seemed to make the Legion officers more nervous...Not less. "You must understand our suspicions. An unbidden arrival through impassable space that circumvented every security measure, no codes, no approved flight path....With offerings to my pyre?"

Gold-hewn eyes flickered.

"I will be plain. The Sith Order is not a sanctuary for the fractured and lost...What do you seek in exchange for your prisoners?"