// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Subjugation //
// Focus //
Indra Quin
//
The speeder carrying the former Lord Inquisitor whipped through the airs of Desevro, rain tapping away at the glass of the vehicle as the Echani looked across the datapad sat upon her crossed legs. She leaned upon a gloved hand as the words poured across her amber vision with information of her target.
Lord Serrax Valmorin.
Some important aristocrat of Desevro that had been hopefully subjugated alongside the rest of the planet. The power players of conquered subjects typically last very shortly after the Sith took hold of the planets, but Valmorin had appeared an insignificant threat when intel about him had been fetched.
Whoever had done the job to fetch the information was apparently an idiot that believed his wealth to be simple old money instead of something deeper. The man had done an admirable job of obfuscating his true occupation, but lucky streaks only lasted so long.
The guise of finance had finally fallen away as a ship of his had been seized by the new blockade of the Sith Empire, and everything the man sought to hide was brought to light. It carried many illegal substances, though the importance of his firearms had been the most significant.
So the orders were simple, to approach Lord Valmorin and teach him the way that the galaxy operated under the Sith Order.
Stepping out into the rain, Jorryn was flanked by two companions. The first held an umbrella over the Sith protecting her from the rainfall, the other held a gun in case Lord Valmorin sought to violently clutch whatever ill-gotten gains of his he hoped to keep.
There would be no polite arrival of Sith forces to the mansion, its massive door instead blown apart with a simple wave of the Echani's hands as she grew impatient. The place was opulent to say the least, whatever wealth that Valmorin had obtained through running guns clearly turned to a life of luxury.
Jorryn could almost appreciate his taste.
Statues lined the hallway like a captive audience, twisted in detailed expressions of pain and suffering, calling out for rescue or death in equal turn.
As much as the Echani wanted to observe the art, her objective her was not as appreciative in nature, and her choice of slamming the doors had rung a call across the mansion. Even now, Jorryn could feel the racing of blood from those that sought to defend the aristocrat from the clutches of the Sith.
It wouldn't matter.
Resistance would be met quickly, blaster fire racing across the decadent halls of the financier's building as Jorryn's own companions matched the gunfire. The Echani herself would move like death itself, racing into the fray as she immediately cut down the first of her enemies' numbers.
They were simple security, no match for a true Sith warrior. A stray shot aimed for the head of the Echani and with a toss of her hair she avoided the strike, allowing it to pass her by though striking the side of one of her companions. A steeled gaze was returned to the man that sought to shoot her down before a hand raised and forced his blood to riot against itself.
Blood pooled behind his eyes and drew from his nose before he began to seize, the violence in his motions as he failed to stave off the internal battle. He fell to the floor soon after, blood trailing from his features as he sunk into an expensive rug. The rest of the resistance was felled in quick succession, and soon all that had been left was the final hallway before Valmorin's office.
"Stay with her." The command halted her two companions, one still wounded from the shot to her side.
"I'll talk to Valmorin myself."
As her heels beat to a deadly rhythm, the hallway twisted around her. In her grasps was a corpse, the man whom's form she had bent and twisted. Blood pooled behind him as statues and figurettes were similarly mutilated in her march, before a wave of her hand once again parted the reinforced doors in front of her.
Inside stood a hunched figure using his forearms to drag jewels and credits sticks, along with other rarities, into a briefcase. It was clear Valmorin had intended to retreat with whatever riches he managed to carry along with him.
He wouldn't get the chance.
The corpse in her hands was flung across the table, and with it Lord Valmorin fell back against the windows to his balcony. Fear penetrated his face, so much that he failed to even get through his surrender.
"You c-c-c-can't-"
"Silence." The Echani interrupted as she raised a hand, the fear racing along his flesh intoxicated her and the smirk upon her lips only grew.
"You know why I am here, I presume?"
A shaky nod was all that answered Jorryn.
"That makes this easier." The Echani moved forward before taking a half-seat upon the man's desk, hands toying with some of the gems that hadn't yet been scattered.
"Luckily for you, I'm not here to kill you. Not if you agree to the Sith's demands of course." Amber eyes raised from the gem back towards Valmorin.
"I think sparing your life is a reasonable trade don't you?"
Once again the man couldn't managed anything but a pathetic agreement.
"It's a simple trade, you now act as a Sith operative. All your possessions now belong to the Sith Order, as do you yourself. Give us your connections so that we can root out this cancer growing in our space and we may allow you to keep this lovely mansion of yours." The gem dropped from her grasp before Jorryn drew a breath away from the man.
"I'm going to assume you agree before I pay you another visit, Lord Valmorin. We appreciate your cooperation."
With those words, the Echani began to leave from the man's office. One of her companions would handle the interrogation, though she need be healed first of course.
As she made her way downwards towards the pair she had left behind, the racing of Valmorin's blood continued. The force fed her his information, he would break before long. Another tool in the Sith intelligence's operation.
Yet somehow the man's fear continued to grow as Jorryn checked on her companions, growing in its desperation. Perhaps allowing him to stew in his fear was the right call, the Echani thought.
Until that feeling stopped altogether.
The smile faded from her lips as she turned back towards the second floor. His fear isn't exactly what had stopped, but his blood altogether.
Valmorin was dead.
And from the shadows came a figure bearing black armour and a helmet. Not one of the late aristocrat's security, plainly. An eyebrow peaked in interest as Jorryn raised once again to look upwards to the figure, a mixture of caution and frustration as to who this was and why she was here. But nothing would be answered in silence.
"You're interfering in official Sith business, my love." The Echani stepped forward past her companions, standing tall as her arms fold over themselves.
"I hope you realised that before doing something so stupid."
Jorryn Fordyce
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