Faction Spin Job [TSC]

[Emissary of Strife]

​

THE WHEEL - A luxurious resort spinning safely on the Parlemian! Try your hand at our many games for a chance to win big, or experience the thrill of our arena, where smashball games are hosted daily!

Beneath the veneer of vacation and adventure, the Wheel is a den of vice and sin, where corrupt administrators and cutthroat criminals prosper. For these reasons and more, the Sith Covenant has set their eyes on the historic station and its potential for profit and control. From gambling and spectator sports to the trade of secrets - all is up for grabs.

Already, many of the Covenant are aboard the station, and security is none the wiser. However, King Dosh has already grown suspicious. Though unaware to him, the barabel champion of "The Big Game" is just a little force-sensitive, and the sudden arrival of darkness has stirred the pechant for violence within him. He fears something will happen today and has his gangsters on the lookout for anything that might threaten his reign.

Objective One "Take Control": Mislead or otherwise occupy station security and take over the bridge. Once secured, slice the system and plot the jump to Desevro's orbit, where reinforcements await to board the Wheel.

Objective Two "Kill the King": Dosh's reign as top akk dog must be brought to an end. Kill him and wipe out his gang. There can't be any doubt about what'll happen to the next petty crime lord who thinks about setting up shop.

Tamsin Starfall Lysander von Ascania Naniti Nilira Vornix Mercy Madrona A’Mia Tansu Treicolt Talsin Lota Scherezade deWinter Varin Mortifer Jorryn Fordyce Mauve du Vain Vestra Tane

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective One
Take Control​

Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets, a rugsack with 2 thermal detonators and one ion grenade.
Tags: OPEN

---

The Wheel. Scherezade pressed her nose to the window and watched the station spin. It was her first time here, and an old contact had tipped her off about the funny business. There was no contract or promise of pay involved, just the potential for chaos and the pleasant possibility of pissing off the right people. That was enough. She turned her engines on and came.

The bridge smelled faintly of ozone and recycled spice. Scherezade moved through it like she krakking owned the place. The station's hum settled under her skin, a private metronome counting down to the first cut.

Her rugsack hung at her hip, padded and muffled so it made no sound when she shifted. Inside were things that spoke less of spectacle and more of finality, such as a pair of thermal detonators nested in cloth, small and spherical, and an ion grenade meant to spit a pulse of energy and leave circuitry dead and blinking. A pair of thermal detonators, small and spherical, nested in soft cloth. Because where wishes were fishes, bombs often got away with bridges. Or something like that. One careful toss and the bridge could be a dark, unmoving thing with its lights, sensors, comms, all forced into silence. She still carried her usual weapons. The toys in the sack were for theatre and a little bit of oomph, since she typically preferred fights that met her face-to-face.

She didn't look at the weapons. Scherezade never let her hands betray her intent. Instead, she watched security rotations on a stolen feed, mapping the pauses between footsteps and the tilt of a guard's attention. The plan was simple, just manufacture a problem big enough to pull every pair of hands away from the bridge, then slide into the command seat while chaos distracted the crew. The rugsack could provide misdirection or end the argument if misdirection failed.

A soft hiss ahead signalled a maintenance drone passing the outer corridor. Scherezade pinched the strap of the rugsack and moved into the blindside, close enough to see the bridge, far enough that she would not be noticed. For now, she would be patient. Let the Wheel keep spinning.

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Open
Objective: Gamblin' Time

"Am...Am I doing this right?"

Neriah pouted as she looked over towards the other sabbac players. The Twi'lek. A Nikto. Even a Selkath. She stuck out like a sore thumb, compared to the usual gamblers you'd expect to see in a Casino. Wide-eyed and confused, and well...there were very few gamblers who weren't willing to take advantage of what they'd see as a sucker. It was all to Neriah's plans however. Acting was a skill she had to learn quickly working with the Sith Covenant. She couldn't allow them to see how she truly felt, in the same way she couldn't allow the people on the table around her to realise she knew how to play.

The plan was for her to lose a few rounds. She'd be a distraction whilst other Acolytes were more than likely doing the "important" work. Neriah still didn't see herself as one of them. She wasn't a Sith. No matter how much they were trying to push her into being one. She wasn't one. No. Everyone she had hurt had deserved it. It's why she wasn't helping...to be violent here. She wasn't a killer. She was...a Jedi. She just had to earn enough credits in this game to get away from them...Of course in reality, any and all credits she earned would be going towards the Covenant...But there was nothing wrong with some foolish beliefs every now and then.

Alright. That was enough of that. Neriah was sure she had started to lose enough times for her lack of ability to be believable. Now it was time for her to start getting into the game properly. Her gaze flicking between the cards in her hand, whilst going off what she knew had already been used. The maths was simple enough for her to go over. And it was simple enough for her to pay attention to how the other players were. The Twi'lek was jittery. less likely to push himself and risk his credits. The Nikto was far more aggressive. He was looking for an overall win. But the Selkath was the one who seemed the most problematic. They weren't letting anything away.

"The girl's gotta be cheating..."

The Nikto grumbled to himself, as Neriah gave her best attempt at an innocent smile. Pointing at herself in confusion as she won yet another hand. The Sabbac Pot had been building up and up. Neither of the players had won yet. Emphasis on the yet, as Neriah checked over her cards, counting them up in her head...Before placing her cards down, as she had a perfect 23. The reaction was exactly what she expected however as the Nikto launched up from his chair almost straight away, grabbing Neriah's wrist rather painfully.

"I told you! She has to be cheating! Where's your damned skifter? Huh?! You might have been able to trick the others but not me!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Neriah spotted the Twi'lek's hand moving off to drop something into the Nikto's pocket before the Twi'lek cleared his throat, stumbling over his words.

"Act-Actually...I think...he has the skifter...I kept...seeing him check his poc-pockets..."

A slight grin spread across Neriah's face as the dealer stepped across the table, to check on the cheating accusations. Neriah happily revealed her pockets to show that she had no kind of cheating device on her, whilst the Nikto threw his hands into his pockets, ready to show his own innocence...before he pulled out a broken skifter.

And that was part of her being more of a distraction. As security came to deal with the Nikto, kicking and screaming about how someone had planted the skifter on him, it meant there'd be less security focusing on what the other members of the Covenant was doing. Plus, Neriah was a fair few credits richer. Of course, she had to slide some of them into the pocket of the Twi'lek for helping her out, but it was worth it at the end of the day. As long as you weren't the loser, you were always a winner. Now it was going to be time for Neriah to move onto a new table however.

By the Force, you're cold.
Just doing what I need to survive.
Cheating is survival nowadays?
Shut up.
And what's with the whole innocent girl act? You're a killer.
Shut Up.

Well. That was one part of her that still hadn't been fixed. Still had the voices in her head. At least they weren't laughing at her anymore.

I'm You, bantha-brain. I'm not going to laugh at you.

It was only a matter of time before the laughter started up again. The ex-Padawan ran a hand through her hair in frustration. What she'd do to just get some peace and quiet...

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective One: Take Control
Tag(s): Naniti | Open
Ship | Armor ​

Lysander had been courting chaos since birth, but the act they were about to embark on? It was madness of the highest order. But as always, when a challenge beckoned, he simply could not resist answering the call. And at the academy, refusal wasn’t just frowned upon.. it was forbidden.

The Sith's fingers were steady on the yoke. He didn’t think about the sweat on his back; he felt it though, that dampness under the black cloak.

His countenance remained neutral, gaze fixed on the Wheel. If he had to guess, the Togruta probably just saw the station as another perplexing puzzle. Service lights, the dull glow of a fuel port, he was still absorbing everything. After another slow exhale escaped his lips, he nodded toward a spot in the Wheel’s exterior, like he’d already memorized the blueprint..

Armor hugged his frame under the cloak of midnight. It rode across the shoulders and down his ribs. There was no need for flamboyance.

Soon, the freighter rattled as it slipped into the Wheel’s traffic lanes, its engines humming nexu’s growl. He sat forward in the pilot’s chair, shoulders tense, one hand gripping the throttle as the other hovered over the console. Dock control’s clipped voices crackled through the comms, every bit routine and oblivious. Or so he hoped..

Then, to his relief, clearance was finally granted.

So, the ship dipped toward the cargo bay, thrusters firing in short bursts. The landing struts struck with a hollow thud.

Silence pressed in.. the calm before the storm.

And in that stillness, memory stirred, back to Ukatis. The king’s last breath, the way he and A’Mia had moved with flawless precision. If they could topple a throne, surely hijacking this thing wouldn't be any more difficult.

Closing his eyes, he reached out through the Weave, seeking out the weird Neti, Madrona A’Mia . Though they shared no blood, she was still closer to him than any semblance of family he had known in a very long time.

<<Docking bay’s sealed. Landed like royalty.. of course the grove’s coolest spore nailed it. So, what’s your status, A’Mia?>>

The freighter's engines wound down. Lights across the console dimmed.

With a hiss, the ramp began to lower. Lysander didn’t move at first.. he just sat there, watching the shadows, then turned his head slightly toward Naniti.

They hadn’t mapped every detail, but a plan was there.

He rose from the pilot’s seat in one motion.

“Well, we’re in. Time to make this look like it was always ours.. like we're the descendants of Exar Kun or something.”

Another glance, another nod. “How are you feeling?”

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The ship had rattled as it began the landing process. He finished getting his fancier than usual outfit on. A nice button up shirt, a black vest with some maroon accents, well fitted pants and some nicer shoes that still would have a good use in combat scenarios.

The ship finally came to a halt as the landing procedure completed. Getting up he walked to the door and pressed the button to open it. Nothing happened.

“Hm?”

He pressed again, nothing, not even a buzz.

“Oh you have to be kidding me.”

He pressed on the buttons a little harder to no avail.

Try hitting them, maybe that will work?

“I doubt it.”

Though he did start smacking the screen. Again the door didn’t budge. He put his ear to the door.

“Well, we’re in. Time to make this look like it was always ours.. like we're the descendants of Exar Kun or something.”

Varin’s eyes widened for a moment.

“Oh I’m not missing this chance to go to a casino!”

He began knocking on the door.

“LYSSS IN HERE I’M STUCK THE CONTROLS AREN’T WORKING!”

He began to knock a little louder.

“Anybody?!”

Maybe sneaking on his friends ship was not the best way to go about this whole ordeal.

Break the door down boy!

“Absolutely not! He will make me pay for it! And we are quite broke. That is why we are gambling tonight Ignati.”

But if you break the door down and win big that won’t matter will it?

Varin’s eyebrow arched.

“You got a point there. But if we don't win?”

Boy that is quitter talk! Did your father raise a quitter?

Varin glared.

“You’re right! We are breaking the door down!”

He reeled his body back ready to shoulder charge the door to start breaking it, but as soon as he came close to the door the controls kicked in, opening the doorway as he slammed into the wall ahead past the door.

A groan left his voice as he leaned on the wall for a second longer, before finally mumbling out.

“.....Hey Lys, how’s it going brother?”

He looked over and saw the other acolyte he remembered from bootcamp.

"And guest?"

Lysander von Ascania | Naniti | Open​

 

[Arris Windrun]

BYOO

The Big Game...

Every fighter worth their spice has at least mused on someday winning one of the galaxy's greatest death sports. Arris was no exception - though the thought of putting her life on the line was a nonstarter back then. Funny how things changed, given that those were the exact stakes she faced on Ruusan.

This King Dosh? She knew him, too. Before his shot at the big leagues, Dosh was a bona fide name in the shockbox circuits. Barabels in particular were well-suited to the format, but even then, Dosh was something of an exception. Hell, he was a fucking legend. To hear he bet it all on the Game and won? It surprised no one who knew him.

Arris stepped off the loading ramp with Jorryn Fordyce and Mauve du Vain in her company as they ventured deeper into the station.

The cyborg stretched her pistons and turned around, with her back to the entrance of some fancy casino.

"So what are we hitting first?"

Should've been Dosh, probably... But the champ could wait, right? Besides, she was feeling lucky.

 

[Mercy]

_______________________________________________________________
​

Objective: 2
Allies: Madrona A’Mia
Soon: Lina Ovmar

They had managed to exit the hangar bays of the Wheel without incident.

While Mercy would have preferred to use her Graspborn and smash through the place, taking corner to corner, Arris Windrun had convinced her that this was not the tactically sound option. When you destroyed a city, there was still a whole planet around it. When you destroyed every deck of a space station, it was liable to crash and burn up into the atmosphere.

Fair enough.

Instead a contingent of Graspborn had infiltrated the Wheel the days before. That was simple enough, because those that were drawn to the Graspborn were everyday men and women. Those whose minds were fractured and undue influence could slowly seep into it.

"Do you see them?" Mercy murmured to her companion, a Neti Sith who had piqued her interest weeks before. During a meeting set by Quinn Varanin as a prelude to establish connections between the Sith Order and the Covenant. "They are all around us." And as they passed people and people passed them, some of them would flash a sigil to them. A patch with an unwound arm and similar signals to signify who they were to the Warlord passing them by.

"That is their strength. Any one of them can be mine and it won't be known until they strike."

Such was the case for the Barabel champion. In the arena he waited, even if he didn't know yet what had stirred his soul so.

"Are you ready to slaughter a bad man, Madrona A'Mia?" Lips curled into a hungry smirk as they coincidentally passed a casino that belonged to Lina Ovmar .

What a coincidence.

 

[Naniti]

Naniti had looked up at Lysander with that sort of patient suffering of someone that wanted to ask you to repeat yourself, but they're heard you the first time they just wished they hadn't. They were going to a space station to take control of it, and relocate it elsewhere for their great and all-knowing Masters to do Nether knew what with it. That's right. Sith Acolytes were engaging in grand interstellar larceny. Not from the Jedi. Not even from the Sith. From criminals. And for this she'd have to forego breaking into some Master's vault, which would be infinitely more intriguing and insightful. Like they knew what she'd been planning.

Bastards.

And so, the Togruta had accompanied Lysander to the ship they'd use to 'sneak' on board the station. Was it really sneaking when they were using the front door?

"The only puzzle is what we're supposed to learn from this," Naniti remarked as they stared out the window awaiting clearance to land. Just another excuse for butchering people. Had to help the young ones learn that murder! was as common place as grabbing a drink after a long day of torturing people. Couldn't say cutting people down with a saber was exactly her favorite pass time, but there had to be better, more educational opportunities that could also serve to teach killing is fun or whatever some sadistic monster of an instructor had in store for them.

The blueprints for the station weren't so much a puzzle as they were a maze.

At last they settled down and Lysander seemed a little less distracted by piloting the ship. His focus was surprisingly intense during the voyage. Naniti didn't know his thoughts were of someone else; and probably better that she remain unaware. Nothing made you feel appreciated like 'I wish I were with someone else.' They were there to kick security's ass, not one anothers'. In theory.

"Yeah, you can claim that honor. I'm," the Togruta's hand swept down the length of her body as the statement trailed off. Well, no one was mistaking her as a descendant of Exar Kun. Or even a pure blooded Sith for that matter.

She slid out of the co-pilot chair after Lysander and toward the exit. "I'll feel better after we walk around a little. Just how much--" then the banging started. Blue eyes batted for a second before she turned to stare at a door. "Could be worse." She could be stuck in a room. And Naniti had thought the chair had been uncomfortable. Nothing like 'you will be trapped here forever!' to get the day started. Poor Varin.

With a snort -- in an effort not to laugh -- Naniti extended a hand out toward the door. Tension built under her eyes as her palm slowly rotated to one side. The Force worked its way into the cracks until one good, sharp jerk helped the metal panel snap open. And Varin unceremoniously dumped himself into the wall across the hall.

"Yep. Definitely worse." A cough helped hide the smile. "Oh, I'm Naniti. Good to meet you... brother?" Her eyes flicked to Lysander before they returned to Varin.

Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective Two
Tags: Mercy | Lina Ovmar
Mentioned: Lysander von Ascania
Theme Song​

"Do you see them?"

"I do," she answered belatedly, her voice airy and flowing like her movements.

"Though I doubt few others would. Camouflage is one of the most successful evolutionary tactics, you know?"

A'Mia swept her unusual gaze up and down the impressively large woman leading the way. Had she grown? It seemed so. The neti's own form stretched slightly, to loom beside Mercy, though not quite so spectacularly as her companion.

"As to the task at hand, I assure you I'm no shrinking violet. Though I do find myself quite curious— what exactly makes this man so bad?"

Her tone was that of one perusing the tabloids combined with one who didn't get out of the laboratory much. Though A'Mia was burdened with a great many glorious wisdoms, there were still some topics that she managed to remain altogether quite naive about. Morality was one of them.

<<Docking bay’s sealed. Landed like royalty.. of course the grove’s coolest spore nailed it. So, what’s your status, A’Mia?>>

Royalty would have heralds, Lysander, and as a mammal I can assure you that you’re warmer than I.
The big woman has promised me there will be murder— I’m discovering why, isn’t that great?
As best I can tell, we near our target. You? Stay safe or else I’ll pull you from Death and I hear that can be unpleasant.​

Downright peppy about the prospect of offing a guy she'd never heard of, yet curious as an afterthought about what he'd done to earn that fate, the neti glided along whilst responding telepathically to her business partner. Her immaculate robes made A’Mia look like some kind of priestess or holy woman. One might even wonder from afar if she was pestering Mercy in an attempt to proselytize her to some cause. That hypothetical assumption couldn't be farther from the truth.

Truly, A'Mia had accepted Mercy's invite because it sounded fun! Surely there was also much to learn in taking on a task so different from that which she would ordinarily choose for herself.

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // BIG WINNER //
// Focus // Mauve du Vain // Arris Windrun //
// Attire //

---

---

The Echani that escorted Arris Windrun held less grand plans for the evening. No grand schemes of decimating the Wheel and dragging its king upon the gambling floor, nor seizing the place for her own. Jorryn held a far more simpler goal of enjoying this night as much as she could, perhaps winning some credits in the meantime.

The knowledge of the plan remained in the back of the Echani's mind as the trio neared the entrance, looking over Arris as she asked what they planned to do first.

Jorryn held her immediate response to the question for later in the night, for now her gaze looked up towards the Wheel.

Gambling had never been the bane of the former Lord Inquisitor's life like it had for many others, and one of the few vices she avoided in her previous life. And yet in this reincarnation, vice seemed so much more within reach. A glint stuck in her eyes as she felt the allure crawl in her stomach.

She was draped in a small gold dress, holding the image of some girl out on the town and hopeful for some big wins. The horns were a touch suspicious, but no more than any other xenos. Amber eyes turned to the Zeltron at her side, the deft hand when it came to affairs such as this.

"I think Mistress Mauve du Vain would offer the best suggestion, but first." The Echani walked forwards, a hand dragging slowly against the cybernetic arm of Arris. "I believe you owe us both a drink for dragging us into this."

Jorryn rocked upon her toes as she moved closer and breathed a whisper across the cyborg's ear.

"Especially after Desevro."

With that, the Echani would wait for the others to choose the entertainment for the night, satisfied with the knowledge of Arris' debt.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective One
Take Control​

Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets, a rugsack with 2 1 thermal detonators and one ion grenade.
Tags: OPEN

---

The Wheel bled neon and laughter and the bridge, when Scherezade peered through the slotted service hatch, looked like an altar of complacency. Consoles pulsed, officers joked into comms, and the station hummed its soft, trusted lullaby. She tightened her grip on the rugsack as if feeling the teeth of the devices inside through the fabric. A freighter (the one containing Lysander von Ascania , Varin Mortifer , and Naniti ) boomed in the distance, adding a new rhythm she could feel more than hear.

She slid from the hatch, feet finding service grating and shadow. Up ahead the corridor opened onto the bridge's flank, revealing a thin catwalk ringed with glass that looked down on command consoles. Two security troopers leaned over a datapad, their shoulders brushing. A maintenance drone hummed between them.

Scherezade didn't think. She let years of small fighting and calculated chaos do the counting. She flicked the strap of the rugsack, feeling the cold sphere settle into the pad of her hand. Tonight, she wanted spectacle.

She stepped into view, a sliver of shadow that made the troopers look up. "Out of the way," she said, casual as a shrug. The taller one laughed and then his jaw went hard. He reached for a com, fingers fumbling. Perfect.

Scherezade moved before the words finished forming. Her arm arced, a neat, small gesture. The thermal detonator left her hand in a soft, insistent curve. It hit the deck between the troopers and the maintenance drone, spun once, and rolled toward the console bank.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then the bridge exhaled sound that rattled glass and made the officers' jokes die in their throats. The detonator did not explode into fire, of course. Scherezade had no desire for indiscriminate pyrotechnics, since this was rarely her style. But it detonated its stun charge, a shattering pulse that knocked lights to washout and sent a constellation of sparking glyphs across the holodisplays. Smoke uncurled, and somewhere a klaxon started chewing at the calm.

The lights winked out. Consoles froze mid-command. The maintenance drone's sensors died, and began to drift in the newly created darkness. The troopers hit the deck, hands over ears, the terror within them so tangible to the Sithling.

The bridge wasn't just personnel, it was the Wheel's nervous system. The thermal's theatrics had done the trick, but Scherezade had planned better. She stepped to a blind console, palms moving in the dark, and thumbed her ion grenade free. The lights went from drunk to dead as she tossed the ion in a tight arc. It struck the central comm array with a wet and metallic kiss. Screens went blank. The soft, steady voice of Dock Control stuttered into static, then into nothing.

Silence rolled through the bridge like a wave. Scherezade could hear troopers shouting in the not that distant of a distance. An officer flailed for a holopad and cursed when the display stayed black

Scherezade grinned like a Chesire kitten. She had thrown the first act into motion, and now, if any other players wanted to join in, it was their time to rush towards their marks.

 

[Vestra Tane]

OBJECTIVE ONE
TAKE CONTROL
TAGS: OPEN​

"Yeah, man, I dunno what to tell you. Got all the forms right here."

The Sith offered a weary, apologetic smile to the annoyingly-vigilant guard on duty, all the while waggling a datapad in front of him. Always last minute, right? Bosses never bother to let the grunts know. Social engineering wasn't, normally, Vestra's cup of tea (too slow, too plodding, not nearly enough in the way of acrobatics or brawling) but this was an act she could pull off flawlessly. Lived experiences, and all that.

Vee whirred, annoyed, and circled around her feet like a nervous cat. Occasionally, annoyed herself, she'd interrupt his circuit with her foot. Having an astromech helped sell the lie, or Vestra wouldn't have brought such an ill-equipped droid on such a risky mission - the counterfeits she was waving around would pass cursory inspection, and maybe even fool a guard attentive enough to do his due diligence.

The air down in the maintenance tunnels was stale and stuffy. It reminded Vestra of her father - he had always reeked of oil and cigarra smoke and old, sickly air. It was the sort of place he would've worked, too, if her parents had ever made enough money to get work off-world. Countless laborers toiled on the Wheel, all just a hair's breadth luckier than her parents. Countless daughters, some of whom would end up just like her.

Minutes passed while the guard, hunched over a decrepit holoterminal, checked Vestra's records against old cert logs and maintenance requests and countless other files and forms that the Sith had paid good creds to make sure she was mentioned in. Still, all it took was this one nerfherder taking his job a little bit too seriously...

"Hrm. A'right, spacer, everything checks out."

A flood of relief, mercilessly absent from her face. For once in her life, and for reasons she wouldn't be thinking too hard about, thank you very much, Vestra was relieved for violence to be off the table. She offered a friendly smile and a casual wave, and waited until the guard was out of sight to press down on the comms device concealed in the collar of her coveralls.

<<Alright, kids, I'm in. Straight shot to the engine bay from here.>>

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective One: Take Control
Tag(s): Naniti | Varin Mortifer | Scherezade deWinter | Vestra Tane
Armor ​

Lysander’s head inclined to acknowledge her thought. Words perched on the tip of his tongue, perhaps a suggestion, perhaps another wry comment.. but before he could let them fly loose, a loud pounding upon the door disrupted the quiet. His pulse quickened in the veins. He wasn’t one to be so easily shaken, but awareness of the mission’s weight made it press a little harder.

The quiet fractured, and in its place.. his name from a familiar voice. One blink later, and there he was.. Varin. The elegance of his attire was quite unexpected. Lysander couldn’t be certain whether he was here to assist with their task, or pull some stray from the Wheel now. Realistically: Both?

A knowing smirk, one reserved for those rare moments was conjured.

“Well, well.. look at this fine specimen.”

He glanced at the Togruta first, before shifting attention to Varin.

“Titles are rather tricky,” he said calmly, “but yes, she’s here with me.”

A few blonde strands slipped into his vision, and he pushed them back with a flick of his fingers. Then he stepped back from the doorway.

An eyebrow arched, lips curling slightly. ”Before we move, tell me.. what's your plan here?” His voice didn’t carry any accusation.. just the need for clarity.

The detonator did not explode into fire, of course. Scherezade had no desire for indiscriminate pyrotechnics, since this was rarely her style. But it detonated its stun charge, a shattering pulse that knocked lights to washout and sent a constellation of sparking glyphs across the holodisplays.

Before he could continue, energy shifted and stuttered far off. There was no flinch to it, no reflex, for his training held him steady.

Ripples through the Force followed, an ingrained instinct noting the displacement of power, a heartbeat stammering as rules began to change. And so, Lysander felt that familiar itch, for the rhythm of chaos was one he found himself intimately familiar with, as a note struck perfectly in a symphony he could hear.

Apparently, the mission was.. live?

That familiar intoxicating thrill settled.

A murmur. “You feel that?” There wasn’t any need for an answer though.

His focus returned to Naniti. Aware of her instinct for detecting patterns, her presence tugged at him in a different way, a compass he could lean on. If his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, it was to gauge her reaction.

It felt like whatever little plan they devised en route to the Wheel lay in pieces now. “If there’s a path you’d take.. I’m listening.”

A soft chirp lit up the freighter's dash. Lysander's eyes cut toward the comm panel.

<<Alright, kids, I'm in. Straight shot to the engine bay from here.>>

​

With more than one plan in motion, problems were bound to arise.

Thread met thread, and his words sprang the instant Madrona A’Mia 's voice reached him.

<<I might just take that as a personal challenge my sister in sap.. so do try not to get pruned out there before the petals bloom!>>

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin looked at both of them and slowly straightened himself back up. A slight groan could be heard as he picked himself up from the wall. Thankfully though his fancy attire was not ripped in any way.

“Naniti? I don’t think we truly officially met. Last I saw you I believe I was quite busy with a few things. In fact I’m sure we all were for real introductions.”

Varin looked over at Lysander and gave a slight smirk.

“Yes of course we are brothers. The resemblance is there! We practically look alike I would say.”

A small laugh left his chest as Lysander spoke.

“Specimen? I guess it’s not normal for me to be in this kind of attire. In fact I never even dressed like this for my parent’s wed-”

He felt the surge of energy somewhere in the area ahead of them. Instinctively he slowly reached for his mace over his shoulder, only to remember he left it off ship along with his saber.

A frustrated sigh left him as his hand slumped back at his side.

“This is embarrassing to say the least, the one time I didn't bring my weapons just so we could possibly slip past security much easier.”

Varin caught a glimpse of the comm panel as a message came through from one of the covenant members.

“I take it this certainly is not for a trip of pleasure and fun? I just happened to sneak on a plan of business?”

His posture changed from a more relaxed stance to one of action as he looked at the other two acolytes with him.

“What do you need from me? I’m not going to be surprise dead weight. But, don't expect me to not take advantage of any gambling opportunities. If I came to a casino you best believe I'm at least gambling a little."

OH We could do that one card game you showed me! The one where you have to get 21?

Lysander von Ascania | Scherezade deWinter | Vestra Tane | Naniti​

 

[Naniti]

Objective I

Yes, busy. Being shot at. Blown up. Probably no small amount of stabbed at. Not that she was complaining (more than her due); you had to learn somehow. Shame about the waste of talent, but they only had so many advanced Instructors and too many students so they had to figure out who was worth teaching the grand Sith Secrets. Probably all propaganda and it really just came down to they couldn't find enough Sith to put aside their time and ego enough to teach, but it was what it was.

Actual brothers? The Togruta looked at Varin and then looked over at Lysander. She smiled. That was all, just a smile. Lysander for his part called it a title and said it was 'tricky.' How could it be that tricky, she wanted to ask. They either were... or they were not brothers. "Well, if titles are tricky, perhaps a name? Otherwise I'm calling you 'Brother' this whole excursion."

Then a ripple in the Force. Naniti couldn't say she felt it as a strong ripple. Maybe wore of a tingle. Then again, extending her senses to the wider world was still a relatively new skill she was developing. At least the way the boys were doing it. The Togruta, on the other hand, had something else up her sleeve. One she was about to comment on before the cause of the disturbance smacked her in the face. See, the disturbance hadn't just happened anywhere aboard The Wheel -- it happened on the bridge. The one place they were supposed to get to, so their focus was already directed that way.

Naniti's attention had shifted away for a moment before it snapped back to Lysander. "Someone just assaulted the bridge. If we presume they took out the comm system up there so reinforcements don't suddenly show up... we need to get this thing to jump. Engineering. Security is going to swarm the bridge. We need to attack this from a different direction; so let's put the engine in motion at the source."

It wasn't that she wanted to avoid conflict, but wading into a sea of security guards didn't exactly sound like an expedient way to get the station clear of danger. Once the course was set, they could circle back around and help whoever was up there. Mission objectives first. Naniti expected they'd understand since they'd kicked The Wheel into motion without so much as a comm check. Sith called that 'Enthusiasm.' Maybe it was. Certainly toasted Lysander and her plan though.

Well that tracked. Plans never worked out anyway.

As for Varin's desire to gamble, Naniti didn't say anything, but the dice had already been thrown.

Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer | Scherezade deWinter | Vestra Tane

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective One
Take Control​

Wearing: Armatura | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | The Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Whimsy Knifes | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke | Combat Gauntlets | Tessen | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader KD-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets, a rugsack with 2 1 thermal detonators and one ion grenade.
Tags: Vestra Tane Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer Naniti | OPEN

---

The smoke curled around her face, blue and thin. Panels sparked, one by one, as the bridge's backup power tried to crawl awake. It was feeble, dying again as the ion wash gnawed at the relays. Scherezade giggled as she leaned against a console that no longer served any master and watched the officers drag themselves to their feet. None of them dared to reach for their weapons yet.

"Stay down kids," she said.

Her gloved hand brushed over a manual override port. Dead. Then another, tucked behind a flickering nav-display stuttered to life. Oh dude. If her droid had been here to witness it, he would've beeped with pride. Messing with controls wasn't something she was good at years ago, but here she was now, taking the part of the conductor. The station's deep systems murmured to her through static, enough to make a narrow door into the Wheel's emergency channels. She keyed in a code, one of those things that didn't belong in the mind of a Sithling who supposedly had no clearance here.

The line hissed, caught, and for a heartbeat she could almost feel the station breathing through her palms.

"Bridge secure. Comms severed. Dock Control silent. I repeat: Bridge is mine," she paused, gave a small giggle, "Hi, I'm Scherezade deWinter, nice to meet you all!"

That would be enough for those gathering around to move themselves into action, she hoped. Those who were against her would be running away, while those who were with her in this adventure would be coming near. That was the plan, anyway. This was more fun than that time she'd taken over control at some Mando planet and started making fountains go pink!

"All engines to standby. Route control to secondary command. If anyone's listening… Don't make me come find you."

The signal was short, encrypted, piggy-backed on the maintenance band before the console gave one last spark and died.

Scherezade exhaled, the grin tugging its way back. She crouched by a downed trooper, stripped his sidearm, and set it neatly beside her rucksack. The Wheel's alarms hadn't fully found their voice yet, though they probably would soon enough.

Until then, she had time to make herself comfortable in the captain's chair.

And wait, since she could hear the approach of more foot soldiers on their way towards her. Poor F-ers.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Objective 2
Tags: Mercy Madrona A’Mia

The moment Lina stepped across the threshold of the Fortune's Echo, there was a shift of movement from the staff, wide eyes cast her way and a ripple of whispers. She made it four steps before Sivara appeared, the pale green Mirialan bore the perfect smile though her eyes regarded Lina with surprise.

"Lady Ovmar, you honour us with your visit. Had I known you were coming, I would have made preparations."

Lina gave a soft chuckle. "Please, Sivara, you and I both know that you are always prepared." The amusement faded, her expression serious. "I'm afraid this isn't a pleasant visit, the station is about to have a change in management." They kept their voices low, tucking themselves to one side so as not to draw the attention of the raucous crowd within.

Mirialan's reaction was a slow spreading smile that made her eyes glitter with joy. "Finally. What do you need?"

Ever ready to do her part, Sivara was one of her best. "Lock it down, quietly. And get word out to the field, I want everyone back at the Station."

If Sivara had any questions she filed them away for later and simply nodded. "Our new landlords?"

"A new rising sith faction." Sivara rolled her eyes, drawing a smile from Lina. "Yes I know, we're everywhere, awful isn't it?" The mirialan shook her head in response, her gaze shifting to sweep the floor. "I've yet to determine their value," Lina continued "Once all is said and done, I want your ears to the ground."

"Understood. I assume you're going to join the party?"

Lina felt the familiar hum in the force she'd come to associate with a certain neti. An unexpected player, but welcome all the same. "Where else would I be?" Lina replied with a smirk, before placing a swift kiss upon Sivara's cheek. "Lock it down and stay safe."

With that she was gone, sweeping back out of the casino doors as an exceptionally tall Firrerro and her vine woven companion passed. She fell a few steps behind them, their long strides keeping them ahead of her. Lina was absolutely not about to run to catch up with them.

 

[Mercy]

Objective: 2
Allies: @Madrona A'Mia
Unclear: Lina Ovmar

"Why, A'Mia, he stands against me and that makes him bad." Mercy purred softly, without irony or hesitation. That was her life philosophy for most things in truth.

If you stood with her, you were an ally. If you did not, you were dead, your body had just not caught up with the fact yet.

They walked and Mercy was getting more excited by the moment. She could feel it right under her flesh, the itch that preceded the battle, soon enough she'd be ripping and tearing. Once the life-blood sprayed into the air, there was nothing more exquisite. Nothing else that felt as right as that particular moment.

But then-

"You know, Lina, I might be blind as a bat within the Force... but I could pick out your footsteps from a crowd." Turning around suddenly and looking down at her with interest.

"First Nar Shaddaa, then that stupid planet I forgot the name of again where corpse-boy eluded us, now the Wheel." Mercy glanced towards A'Mia, wondering if she already knew the Ovmar woman or if they were not acquainted as of yet. "This is Lina Ovmar, dear, a business woman and an accomplished Sith Lord by all accounts, have you two met yet?"

Eyes flicking back to Lina.

"Any particular reason you are walking behind us?"

 

[Vestra Tane]

[UH OH]

[Actual post incoming]

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective Two
Tags: Mercy | Lina Ovmar
Mentioned: Lysander von Ascania
Theme Song​

"Ahhh, I see," she nodded as if enlightened.

Another might've taken Mercy's answer as a joke, or a way to brush off providing a deeper answer to the question of motive for the imminent murder. A'Mia however could see the bearing of truth upon her companion— when someone showed you who they were, she found it was generally wise to believe them.

The neti sensed the other's approach before footfalls could be heard, and her dryad-esque face turned a beat ahead of Mercy addressing the woman. Distracted by the poetic quipping of Lysander, A'Mia was content to let herself be introduced again. No return message reached the blonde but he would be aware that her presence was with him through the Weave should he need backup. She slowed in acknowledgment that Lina was intent upon joining them.

"Yes!" A'Mia sang cheerily, "Together we have already woven sorcery and shared in resource."

A strange way to say it, but the arboreal woman often went against the grain of common social interactions.

"Hello again, Lina," her voice lowered conspiratorially and she ushered the newcomer closer, "Would you like to join us for a bit of bloodshed?"

The way she asked it was not only as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but also indicated that A'Mia thought it a wonderful bonding exercise for the three of them.