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 Neriah Calven 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

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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.

 

[Neriah Calven]

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]

_______________________________________________________________
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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 //

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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.