Invasion System Shock: Coveted Authority | TSC Invasion of GE-held Coruscant Superhex Objective Four

[Mercy]

OBJECTIVE: 4

CORUSCANT
THE IMPERIAL PALACE

ALLIES: Arris Windrun | Srina Talon | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Darth Carnifex | Eurydice | Meliant | Hasuras Na-Gerra

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"You are gonna give me chit about dropping you?" Mercy said in apparent disbelief. "Right after I dragged your ass back from the brink? Where is my thank you? Where is my hey, that was great, Mercy. I really appreciate you brought me back from the dead." She shook her head there as they walked.

"I am not hero material, darling, so the fact we got this far ought to be an achievement worthy of a trophy." Entirely disregarding the role that Carnifex played in bringing Srina back to life.

That wasn't on purpose.

She generally automatically erased any achievements made by men in her presence. There was no thought involved in that.

Eyebrows raised when Vesper called her mother. It wasn't the first time, it wouldn't be the last time, but it was always amusing to her. "Well, I am glad to hear your people have come out the other side unscathed... daughter." A smirk there, knowing it would most likely rankle Vesper at least a touch, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"The Empress is a powerful figure." She said, ignoring the ritual comment entirely. "But even powerful figures need rest at times." Squeezing her arms around Srina, which would most likely cause her a deal of hurt after what had transpired.

But that was similar to checking a hound when they were acting out by twapping their nose. They had to learn.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Thrace." Mercy said as another boom made the palace shudder. "A few people working their frustrations out on Coruscant, it is rather natural."

That was the most Mercy had said about Quinn Varanin and what she was going through now. Which might have hinted to Srina that... Mercy didn't understand what was happening to her daughter. The throne room doors were coming into view as they kept walking. "The plan is rather simple, we enter the throne room..."

"And we congratulate our colleagues for a job well done."

They stepped on through doors that were already ajar. A mess inside, dead Imperial corpses, a throne. A panicking Eurydice. Oh, dear. Eyes narrowed a little at the crack in the throne before attention shifted towards Arris and Meliant.

"Ah and here are my colleagues."

As if she wasn't carrying the Empress in her arms. A totally normal day, normal situation.

"Can I congratulate you for a job well done? Did your ruse succeed, darling Arris? Are Imperials slaughtering each other like dogs, all because their Emperor ordered them to?" Eyes flicked towards Maleant. "Nice armor, whoever got you that, must have a great sense of style and fashion."

She shifted again so Srina had a better angle as she murmured down at her.

"That there, are Arris Windrun, my fellow Triumvir and a wicked shot with those revolvers of hers. Meliant, brother to the Warlord Gerra and my personal attache to the Galactic Empire. Over there is Eurydice, don't mind her, the poor girl is having another panic attack. And you already met Captain Vesper Thrace, my apparent daughter. All of you, this is Srina Talon, the Empress of the Sith Order."

A bright smile as she stepped forward towards the throne.

"Everyone acquainted, everyone happy?"

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Whilst the Star-Arm made jests and light of the carnage - having not even managed to best a crocodile, Hasuras na-Gerra yet warred with a godling.

As ribbons of gold began to coil around him, others lashed outward, binding themselves to the half-living corpses scattered around the hall. The corridor leading toward the throne room was bathed in radiant light, transformed into something almost holy — almost divine.

The Force bled from him with every citrine tendril which touched him. But the blood of Vahl was not afeared.

He wrapped his arms about the Queen of Eshan, seeking to hold her to him - his golden breastplate a hard an unyielding surface caked with the dust and gore of conquest. No gentleness there.

Save perhaps for the words he spake.

"It is over, Varanin."

His words broke even above the storm, though strength fled him and his legs grew weak.

"Waste not thy might upon this world. It doth not deserve it."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Eurydice]

​

Fortunately, Arris' sharp tone snapped Eurydice out from the throes of her panic. A heart attack? At this age?

"W-what did you dose me with?" It would've been a demand if her voice hadn't been so meek.

She was right, though. Eurydice didn't know Mercy well, and that realization alone was enough to distract her from having a cardiac event.

That was, until the hall adjacent to the throne became awash in light. It wasn't soft or comforting, but brilliant in its hunger. Golden threads sought the fear roiling from her, wrapping around Eurydice's throat as they sought to siphon her down to the marrow. The girl gasped, skin growing tight against her cheekbones and fingers spindling into skeletal nubs-

-and then, as Mercy walked in cradling the Empress, it stopped. Eurydice swayed on her feet, gave a dry cough, then collapsed unceremoniously at the foot of the cracked throne.

All in all, things could've gone much worse.

Arris Windrun Meliant Mercy Quinn Varanin Srina Talon Vesper Thrace Hasuras Na-Gerra

 

[Vesper Thrace]

Vesper followed Mercy into the throne room, her dark eyes scanning for anything expensive she could steal. What she found instead was a broken throne and an extremely motley crew, She let her eyes trail from person to person as Mercy introduced them one by one. "Hello. Nice to put face to all the names," she said, politely cool, when she had finished, then turned to examine the room, walking away from the group.

"What the fuck is this?" she whispered to herself, sotto voce. It was the perhaps the strangest thing she had ever seen. No, it wasn't the people that were odd. It was the unlikely hub around which they were all gathered, spokes to the wheel that was Mercy. "How the hell did I -- what the fuck?" Vesper continued under her breath, her tone one of irate confusion wandering away from the group in an apparent stupor.

She hadn't suffered a massive head wound, or indeed any wound at all, she was just suddenly struck almost in a kinetic sense by just how bizarre her life had become in the last few months. The Captain stumbled over some rubble, eyes spotting something shiny laying on what remained of a sideboard table. She took her comlink out, snapped a photo of the mirrored tray and its accoutrements, featuring a small platinum pot and lid that bore some mustache wax, a dainty little set of platinum mustache scissors, and a tiny little platinum mustache comb. She took some more photos of the ruined throne room to authenticate them, then crouched and picked up each of the finnicky little doodads, tucking them into her inside jacket pocket, then she picked up the tray.

The bits would probably sell better as a set, after all.

Thrace continued to wander the room, looking for shinies or even intelligence that might prove useful (read: expensive). She did find one ring, very shiny except where peasant lips had smudged it. Pocketing that for sure, Vesper thought, and she did.

"Too bad about the throne, Mother," Vesper called from behind it, where her wandering had taken her. "Would have been a great photo, sitting on it, que?"

___________________________________________________________________

Mercy | Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin | Srina Talon | Eurydice | Hasuras Na-Gerra​

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 4
LOCATION: Coruscant [Imperial Palace]
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SC ALLIES: Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Aelissandre | Darth Carnifex | Eurydice | Tavi Corvask | Meliant
GE ENEMY (Close By): Krasskorr the Maw | Da'Razel
GE ENEMY (Distant): Colm Noda | Remowa | St. Thomas Barran

____________________________________________________

“Yes.”

The simple response to all of Mercy’s inquiries floated up without hesitation. Some of her wording was meant in a more sardonic fashion, though, she was certain there were bits of truth to it. The Warlord was not the savior in any story, though perhaps just for tonight, it was a role the red-haired woman could endure. If for a little bit longer.

"Whatever this baroque mating ritual is -- perhaps there is a better time and place for it. Put the blonde down; you may need your arms to keep the ceiling off our heads."

Srina blinked.

She was not aware of a custom that required a cosmic event to break her bones before such a ritual, but perhaps Captain Vesper Thrace came from a society that hated their females. It wouldn’t have been the first. The pale woman didn’t have long to think it over because Mercy took the opportunity to respond for her, arms tightening, which caused her to swallow any other response. Her newly healed bones threatened to pop like matchsticks.

It took a long moment before she could speak, but it did give her a moment to consider that she didn’t know what was happening to her lover outside. It was either ignorance or carelessness…The latter of which infuriated her. “Is that what you think is happening?”

“That Quinn is just…working out frustrations?”

They were already on the move, however, entering a throne room that had obviously seen better days. It was strange to her that Mercy would move her enough that she could see, instead of forcing her to have a world-class view of the ceiling. Captain Thrace had been right about that at least. This place looked ready to collapse in on itself any moment. They were all unceremoniously introduced and she gave a great sigh.

Happy?

No.

Something was going on with the auburn-haired Sith Acolyte that she didn’t understand, but she seemed almost relieved to be sitting at the foot of a throne that could no longer be used. It was a point that Mercy had wanted to make, to have that triumph, but destroying Coruscant was the only goal Srina had ever held. Now…Now she just needed her daughter back.

Darth Carnifex had disappeared the moment she asked, knowing her heart, as so few did. It was no secret that she favored Quinn Varanin, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise that her focus lay solely on her daughter and the war. Her eyes fluttered closed while Mercy kept her close, for the moment, trusting that the Titan hadn’t saved her for nothing.

Even though her death would have likely been a benefit to her.

The Force was still fighting with her, but she could make out the shape of Quinn among a mass of dark clouds. She could feel the bond they had formed before she could walk, from before she had learned to hold a sword. It was unstable… But it was there.

That was all they needed.

Just one thread to pull on, just one, so that she could help tug her little one back to herself.

Before it was too late.

 

[Meliant]

​

Location: Federal District - Imperial Palace - Throne Room
Attn: Mercy Arris Windrun Eurydice Srina Talon Vesper Thrace
CC: They already conceded, no more CCs

Planetary Shield Generator: Online | Imperial Palace: LOYALIST PURGE ENDING SOON (RUNNING OUT OF LOYALISTS)​

Mercy came into the throne room, and she did so carrying the Empress of the Blackwall Sith. Amoun immediately contorted himself back into an insipient bow. For a moment, he thought Eurydice had followed his lead and taken to groveling, but it turned out she had just fainted. Again.

He tilted his head toward the thud. Although the two of them - Mercy and Srina - might have been in the same league as Darth Carnifex, the manner of their entrance did not demand the same somber observance, so Amoun rose unsteadily and dusted off his knees. Again.

Also among the victors' entourage was one of the random pirates who had been crawling in the palace sewage and looting the place. Their presence had been noted by the Tribunes, but no special pains had been undertaken to stop them. That was apparently good instinct on Amoun's part, seeing this person now as part of the royal entourage.

She could have the royal mustache kit, Amoun dreamed of higher station.

"I have done as you asked, Star-Arm," Amoun declared, maybe a little boldly for once. "You said I'd get an Empire out of it. I want this one."

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[Arris Windrun]

Mercy | Meliant | Eurydice | Srina Talon

"W-what did you dose me with?" It would've been a demand if her voice hadn't been so meek.

Arris held up the empty injector as proof. "A battle stimulant," she answered.

"You'll live, but take it easy - first time is always the most intense."

She failed to mention that this particular cocktail was a grade above the rest, often used by mercenaries with a stim addiction, to overcome any tolerance they've built to weaker blends. While immediate addiction was unlikely, it wasn't impossible, and the comedown - for most humanoids - would be harsh even after a single dose... and Arris hit her with more than that, given this was meant for her.

Others now entered the Throne room. The cyborg stepped away from the girl and slid into position beside the imperial throne, with arms folded across her chest.

The room was an entire scene. However, the Talusian's ill-tempered gaze fell on one person alone: Mercy.

Of course, the Titan began to announce and introduce everyone. As soon as she finished, Arris interjected.

"Kind of you to show," she drawled. Her eyes cast down to the woman in her arms. "I take it you were delayed?"

The last thing Arris recalled was walking past as fighting broke out. She was, admittedly, a little surprised by the amount of harm they'd taken. Mercy alone was a powerhouse, and she could only imagine the Empress of the Sith had to be as well.

Windrun's attention drifted to Vesper, who disappeared behind the throne, but not before picking what she could from the room.

"Too bad about the throne, Mother," Vesper called from behind it, where her wandering had taken her. "Would have been a great photo, sitting on it, que?"

"I'm sorry-" Arris turned back to Mercy. "Did she just call you Mother?"

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Meliant | Srina Talon | Eurydice | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Quinn Varanin

She was about to respond to Srina, but then Arris interjected and Amoun too.

Behind her Graspborn filtered into the room. They took no head of the Lords and Knights around them. Instead they filtered slowly towards the Throne, eyeing it and Arris next to it, as if Arris was a live-grenade waiting to explode. While Mercy had no ability to discern the Hatred raging through her veins, they knew better and were careful about it.

To a point, since they knew the will of their Master.

A handful of them picked up the throne and put it to the side. Close to Vesper and to Amoun, if either wished to claim it for their collection. And then... they began to slowly stack the Imperial corpses in the spot where the throne was.

"Kind of you to show," she drawled. Her eyes cast down to the woman in her arms. "I take it you were delayed?"

"Was I?" Mercy drawled innocently as her eyes flicked to Arris and then to Amoun. "No, I believe I am right when I need to be. It seems to be reward time, if I am to believe our Meliant."

The corpses were being stacked in the shape. Grotesque, really, but sizeable enough to carry one Mercy comfortably. Compared to a Throne that had been made fit for an old man raised from the dead.

"I have done as you asked, Star-Arm," Amoun declared, maybe a little boldly for once. "You said I'd get an Empire out of it. I want this one."

"Did I say that?" She grew thoughtful as she approached Amoun with interest. "Well, I must have said it, because my Meliant wouldn't lie to me. Would he?"

"Too bad about the throne, Mother," Vesper called from behind it, where her wandering had taken her. "Would have been a great photo, sitting on it, que?"

"I'm sorry-" Arris turned back to Mercy. "Did she just call you Mother?"

Mercy sighed. "Do not ask, Windrun. I have learned that a long time ago."

The throne was ready, but the Throne was not. Until the Graspborn stood around it, gently moving Eurydice out of the way, and made a little incantation. Power flowed into the room and then... flesh transformed into marble. Stonework. Freezing the last moments of the Imperials into place, dying, dead and immortalizing them.

In a way Mercy giving them something their old Master never did.

Eternity.

Mercy moved past Amoun, towards the Throne. There was an interesting space on one of the arms, just perfect for something to rest on who wasn't Mercy's size. "There you go, darling, you need your rest." Sitting Srina down on it and ruffling her hair lightly. "Take it easy." Only then Mercy sat down on the frozen marbled Throne and watched all those who had gathered.

"No, you are right, Meliant. I did say that my friends get presents." Mercy did not point out that Amoun had refused to call himself her friend. She wasn't that petty. Wordplay, wordsmithing, to get out of a deal. It disgusted her. Amoun had served admirably and deserved a reward, Mercy had no issue with that.

"However... you are attempting to lay claim on that which is mine." Amber bleeding deeper into her eyes. "From Coruscsant to Chandrila, from Teta to Anaxes. I own every planet, every human soul, every building here. That is what it means to be Empress-in-the-Core as they call me." The mirth and light having gone out of her voice through these words. Her eyes had a challenge in them, meeting their gaze, one by one.

Then she leaned back, elbow brushing Srina's elbow.

"But I am generous with my friends, everyone knows this to be true. A reward you deserve. One reward. One planet. Name it and you will be its Emperor. I will crown you personally, Hasuras Na-Amoun."

 

[Meliant]

​

Location: Federal District - Imperial Palace - Throne Room
Attn: Mercy Arris Windrun Eurydice Srina Talon Vesper Thrace
CC: They already conceded, no more CCs

Planetary Shield Generator: Online | Imperial Palace: LOYALIST PURGE ENDING SOON (if u even care)​

The corpse throne routine was unsightly, but something else held Amoun's attention. He tensed visibly, and anger - frustration - flared in him the longer Mercy spoke. "I didn't..."

"Do all this work to be granted one stupid, lousy, inconsequential planet", was what he wanted to say. But he thought better of it, because something told Amoun that despite their little skirmish with the crocodile and the fire pervert, Mercy and company still had enough gas in the tank to thrash him pretty badly. Maybe even stick him in a tube again.

Besides, while all planets were stupid and lousy, not all of them had to be inconsequential, did they?

Hasuras Na-Amoun relaxed a little. Unclenched his fists. He folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. I want Coruscant. And I want this palace."

Some months into the future, in an unguarded moment in the presence of his Tribunes, the phrase "it seemed like a good idea at the time" would be employed by Hasuras Na-Amoun when he reflected on the moment which unfolded at present.

"And I'm taking that fucking chair, too," he quickly added, for the benefit of Vesper.

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Hasuras Na-Gerra //: Srina Talon //: Darth Carnifex //:

The life that she drained fed her, fueled her revenge and hate for this world. It had taken something precious. With each breath, she could feel their last, but she still couldn't breathe. Nothing she did would ever fix what had happened. For a moment, she stopped; something pulled faintly in her mind.

Ignore it, child, they're trying to stop US.

In an instant, the connection quieted. If only she had the control, she could feel her mother's life being restored. Maybe then the carnage would end, but no — Quinn was lost.

Gold illuminated the palace, the life of those that lingered still became hers, filling the scepter she wielded with life. She felt it and wanted more — maybe she could use it… Perhaps she could bring her back.

Eyes flickered for a moment; her mother was gone… the body had disappeared along with her allies. It caught her by surprise… she had hoped maybe she wouldn't be as alone as she felt. Once more, she was left to manage on her own, but the brute stayed… though he was stuck to feed her.

And so he shall…

She continued to pull his life, but by his will alone, he pressed on. But before she could focus her mind on him, someone invaded…

Carnifex would find himself in the center of a white room. In the center, a small blonde woman was curled — her knees to her chest. Her body shook, sobbing as images of her life circled her. Those images slowly came to life, ghosts of her past playing out the memories of her life with the Sith Empress.

Srina was the core of her being… Without her, the young Echani Queen was a mere accessory to her parents. The third child, the forgotten child, was the safety plan if something didn't work out.

Death had wanted the child, possibly to spare her the life of loneliness she constantly felt. Yet her parents, selfish in their own power, used the darkness that fueled the phobis core her mother had consumed. They bound her to its essence, and with it, the girl survived.

The girl, Quinn, remained curled on the floor, crying for her mother, crying to not be alone… she was lost as her body was puppeted by the darkness that kept her alive. It would protect, not because it cared, but because it NEEDED her alive.

She was its vessel…

"Get out…" She whispered… finally acknowledging him.

As Quinn continued to consume everything around her, the storm continued to rage. What Gerra did next was unexpected. His body wrapped around hers, and she was suddenly aware of how small she was. The pressure of his weight against her form constricted her, and she went wide-eyed.

Fear showed on her face, then anger. As she looked at him, listened to him, she wrestled against his hold. Her focus bled his energy, and with it, a thick bolt tore through the ceiling of whatever was left of the hallowed palace of Coruscant. The red energy surrounded them, tearing through flesh and bone with every ounce of her strength.

Protectively, the entity absorbed the attack's power. Drawing its energy into her, but all it did was overwhelm the small frame of the woman. As brightly and quickly the bolt came down, it faded, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her body limp, the focus was now on the invader of her mind.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

The strength bled from him, torn as if by the current of an ocean into this tiny Echani. Gerra's knees grew weak, his arms slack. He nearly fell.

Nearly.

His arms stiffened around her. Crushing. Smothering.

Then a jagged bolt broke from the storm above, crashing through the palace and it smote him with the might of a godling in the Force. Gerra's lips opened in a wordless snarl as every nerve in his body caught fire, his limbs locking up, muscles spasming uncontrollably. Gerra dropped to a knee, the Queen still clutched in the grasp of his twitching arms.

Smoke curled from his armored form in tendrils, his hair stood awry. His neck tingled and he felt a searing pain along his right side, raw and red. Ah. A most worthy blow, then. The strange pattern scoured across his neck and down, looking like the root system of a tree. There was a name for such a lightning wound, though Gerra could not recall. How it was he still stood and drew breath, he could only guess. Perhaps the Sith alloy in his armor, not unlike that of a Sith sword, which could channel and contain energies. Even so, it was with an effort of will that Gerra stood back up. He swayed a moment, then his teeth ground upon one another.

He looked down, eyes burning. The Queen was limp in his arms. He grunted and with another effort slung her over his left shoulder like a sack. Then Gerra strode with ponderous steps toward the throne room.

So it was that Hasuras na-Gerra entered what had once been the seat of Emperor Solipsis' power. Whisps of smoke curling from him, red weals in the shape of a Lichtenberg pattern upon his neck, and ribs broken from his fall from the Star Destroyer's bridge. Upon his shoulder he carried the unconscious form of Quinn Varanin.

As his bloodied and soot-stained boots crossed the threshold, they did sully the floor. His blazing eyes looked upon the occupants of this room. Lessers, all of them. What feats had they accomplished this day? Gerra's lips curled in a derisive sneer as he spotted his brother. Ah. Amoun. Turning with the tide. Instrumental, perhaps. But still a coward.

"I have come for what is owed," spake Gerra and despite all he had suffered that day his voice still crackled with power, rich and deep as the roots of a mountain.

He pointed at Mercy, his other hand clutched about the form of Quinn slung across one shoulder.

"Pay me my due."

In the skies above Coruscant, the guns of the Vahlan Horde had fallen silent after obliterating the majority of the defensive emplacements around the palace. But at the pressure of Gerra's will, they turned toward the palace and set it in their crosshairs.

Woe to the vanquished.

Mercy Meliant Arris Windrun Eurydice Quinn Varanin Srina Talon Vesper Thrace Darth Carnifex ​

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Meliant | Srina Talon | Eurydice | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Quinn Varanin

She was about to respond to Amoun, but then his brother entered the room and interrupted the process.

That must have annoyed Amoun. Being so close to what he wanted and yet so far away because of his sibling.

"I have come for what is owed," spake Gerra and despite all he had suffered that day his voice still crackled with power, rich and deep as the roots of a mountain.

He pointed at Mercy, his other hand clutched about the form of Quinn slung across one shoulder.

"Pay me my due."

Her eyes slowly settled on the Vahlan. Then to the form of Quinn over his shoulder. The pointed finger. Then finally back to Gerra himself. Head tilting there slightly.

"Good of you to join us, Gerra. Feel free to pass Quinn over into the capable hands of Captain Thrace." A glance over her shoulder. "Captain, you don't mind delivering her to her mother, do you?"

"As for your reward, yes, I do believe you earned your keep. But you will wait your turn, like everyone else. We are civilized here now after all."

Attention returned to Amoun.

"You were saying... you desire Coruscant, the Palace... The old Throne... anything else?" A head tilt there, confused a little. "Why this palace, dear Amoun. It is a bit messy. Does the Emperor of Coruscant not deserve something grander than an old, converted fortress?"

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“No.”​

The word rolled out like thunder.

“The Queen of Eshan shall be ransomed back to her people when I see fit.”

He pointed again.

“And you will give me my tribute here and now. Bid your jacknapes and coat clingers, your cowards and harem to wait in line like good little dogs.”

The fire of stars in his eyes.

The quake of death in his words.

“But the Qhan of the Vahla waits for none.”

Mercy

 

[Vesper Thrace]

Vesper's eyes went to the throne that Mercy moved out of the way. She didn't react at first; that would make her appear grasping and servile. Meliant was better cast in that position, as he proved by immediately pouncing. "Don't suppose you'd kyber-flimsi-saber me for it?" she ventured, holding out one fist over the other hand, cupped if prepared to play. "No? Fine. You take that fucking chair. I'm going to take whatever else I find."

She returned her hands to their normal posture and resumed her wandering, which placed her near the door when Hasuras Na-Gerra thundered in. Thrace didn't make any hackneyed references to him as a thumb-lookin' motherfucker; without Tavi Corvask to enjoy her particular brand of high-brow, sophisticated humor, she felt it wouldn't land. No, best for her to start to take her leave, before Meliant got any funny ideas about trying to stop her looting every last thing she could carry out of this place.

But then Mother volunteered her for carrying whatever poor wretch the ginger had carried in. Fourteen Sith in the room and not one of them can spare the willpower to float her over there -- Void Mother's mercy these people. "Yes, Mother," Vesper bit out, approaching Gerra. "C'mon. Give."

But the flame-haired fucker chose violence. How sad.

"Excuse you," she said, her voice glacial. "I am neither dog nor harem nor coward nor whatever-the-fuck-a-jacknape is, you pompous prick. I ride to battle with you and this is how you talk to me? I ought to bust you like a fucking piñata," Thrace snapped. "Just hand her over so we can get paid and go home. This place looks like a stiff breeze could blow it over."

___________________________________________________________________

Allies: Mercy | Srina Talon | Arris Windrun | Eurydice | Quinn Varanin
Ingrates: Meliant
Asshats: Hasuras Na-Gerra​

 

[Meliant]

​

Location: Federal District - Imperial Palace - Throne Room
Attn: Mercy Arris Windrun Eurydice Srina Talon Vesper Thrace
CC: They already conceded, no more CCs

Planetary Shield Generator: Online | Imperial Palace: Patriots in Control​

Amoun was prepared to give an answer, but here came his brother with a woman slung about one shoulder. Typical. Sightless eyes turned to Hasuras Na-Gerra, and something close to affection welled in his heart-space.

But he saw on the warlord's face an awful sneer, and that fickle flame died again. Ah, so it had been a mistake, then, to turn those guns away. And to hope that there might have been time to repay that intercession so many years ago. His words, today and on the Death Star, had been a cruel lie after all.

These thoughts alone occupied Amoun's sullen mind. He did not hear Mercy's answer or that he had been crowned an Emperor, or had successfully gotten Vesper to relinquish her claim to the holy chair.

No. All he saw now was the Qhan of Qhans, close at hand, wounded in the ribs, burdened by a woman, spitting at the kennelmaster and her leal hounds. Far from any ally that would intercede on his behalf.

He had never been much of a swordsman.

Ataru was the form of alacrity and Amoun was well-studied in its precepts. In a single breath, the distance between the two brothers was closed. Two lightsabers, crimson with hatred, ignited in that same span.

They lashed with great precision at the face of Hasuras Na-Gerra, moving in opposite directions: one across the warlord's eyes, the other his mouth.

Let the Vahlan fleet burn this shitpit world to ash, so long as Hasuras Na-Amoun would not suffer another sneer.

Hasuras Na-Gerra​

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[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 4
LOCATION: Coruscant [Imperial Palace]
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SC ALLIES: Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Aelissandre | @Darth Carnifex| Eurydice | Tavi Corvask | Meliant | Mercy
GE ENEMY (Close By): Krasskorr the Maw | Da'Razel
GE ENEMY (Distant): Colm Noda | Remowa | St. Thomas Barran

____________________________________________________

“No.”​

That was the incorrect response.

Srina had remained silent since Mercy settled her down in a throne, created of the flesh of the damned. The stone wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t need it to be, as the Empress was content to let the spoils of war be assigned to those deserving, entirely, deferring to the Covenant for this matter. It was not for her to decide, and she asked for nothing. That changed when the large male that she had witnessed carrying Ansisa away on Alvaria showed up carrying her daughter.

She knew the name from the Holo-Feed that had made demands of Darth Carnifex .

Hasuras Na-Gerra was not unknown to her.

“The Queen of Eshan shall be ransomed back to her people when I see fit.”

The Empress had simply assumed at that time, apparently incorrectly, that he wasn’t stupid. Her hand unwound from the back of Mercy’s neck, and yellow-gold eyes lifted to the Vahla as if distance alone might keep her temper in check. She’d had no quarrel with him in the past and was uncertain why he chose this moment to bring out the monster in her. She hadn’t hated the Faithless Filth when she’d shelled them to oblivion with ice—But keeping her from her child?

That was a mistake.

Srina leaned forward, and motion drew a sound from her that was not a cry or a gasp. It was something less refined, a growl, that would vibrate in her chest while it moved lower. Something in her shoulder shifted with a wet, grinding click. Another fracture finished setting in her ribs, and her spine straightened. She had been hit directly with a concussive, heated blast that carried the might of a sun. Her head, cracked like an egg, her body crushed, when Mercy tried to help her. Pain flared and did not fade.

She ignored it.

Her hand rose, and her fingers wrapped around the dark-side artifact that sat against her chest, and the air changed. Not explosive. Worse. The phylactery answered her with glowing veins from beneath obsidian glass, beginning to leak pure dark side energy. Unfiltered and unkind…But she wasn’t feeling very charitable. Activation of it was something that had an equal chance of destroying her, as it did give her what she might need to challenge Hasuras Na-Gerra after breathing in that damnable spice. But, what was a little death these days? The attack from Meliant came out of nowhere, and her hand rose to stop the light-sabers that started to clash. Her hand shook…But it held.

Then—It became steady.

“Enough.”​

The singular word was met by a burst of air that would push the siblings apart. It was the only warning they might get, though her eyes never left the woman who was tossed over the red-haired man's shoulder like a sack of vegetables. “That…Is my daughter.”

“She is not currency. She is not leverage. You will give me my child…”

Her hand tightened on the artifact.

She could feel Darth Carnifex on the other side…It wouldn’t take much. The suppression dust seemed to be breaking down fast, likely because of Mercy’s blood still moving through her system. Her expression went cold, her fingers curling around the seat of the throne, prepared to force her body to stand. It didn’t matter what she should or shouldn’t do.

“—Or I will destroy you.”

Not beat like a “piñata” as Captain Vesper Thrace had suggested, not kill, as his brother had tried to do. It was such a simple statement, a wintry whisper, but edged with something so much darker. He was aware of the Sith Order and her place in it, regardless of his ignorance in referring to her as part of a “harem” in place of the respect her reputation had earned. She had fought and died for the success of this enterprise. Fought—And died, for that. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what she might do for Quinn Varanin. “Choose. Now, Hasuras Na-Gerra .”

Her patience and kindness would only last so long.

If he didn’t choose correctly…There would be nothing to stop her from slitting him open to splash around like a child in a muddy puddle.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Pinata?

Gerra frowned. He knew not this word.

"Brave is the lamb who bleats amid lions, Captain," he rumbled.

Or foolish.

Then all became violence in the single blink of an eye. His brother raced toward him, sabers igniting.

Perhaps the blows would have landed.

Perhaps Gerra's answering spell might have been too slow.

Only the seers know of that future.

Air blasted them apart, Gerra skidded backward, steadying Quinn on his shoulder. He grimaced in pain at the movement, his broken ribs grinding together. The heat of the burn on his neck from the lightning bolt a searing brand.

His form twisted and warped, some Sith magic making his figure seem as though a mirage in the desert. Never quite fully there.

The golden eyes of the breaker of thrones and empires turned to the empress of the Sith.

"You are sore wounded," in such a state, he did not know if her power could prove greater than his - or of the great guns looming above which might smite her into ruin. Yet as he looked upon her, white hair slick with sweat to her face, features proud but still the hint of pain from her wound showing through the cracks, he saw only a mother who sought to protect her daughter. If he had been ten thousand she would still have assayed against him. And for this, his wroth broke. "Would that Star-Arm thought the same as you."

The woman had walked right past Quinn Varanin, despite the woman being embroiled in a Force Storm that threatened the whole planet and her very own life. Even Gerra had felt the mind of Darth Carnifex trying to invade Quinn's. And when asked for her return, Mercy would pass her off to another like a sack of gold to be stacked in some vault. "As leverage she was treated, so as leverage she was used."

Removing Quinn's body from his shoulder, Gerra placed her upon the floor, seated against a pillar which still stood.

"If any but you had asked, we would say no. But you are Vahl's own effigy. And before your beauty and power alone I will yield."

Straightening to his full height, Gerra's gaze turned like a solar flare upon his brother. He thought to speak. But what words should he give for one who would strike him down on sight? Perhaps his brother had finally found his fire, but they were as far apart in power as a candle from a neutron star. And Gerra had no wish to see Amoun back to the Nether.

So his stare passed across the room, taking each of them in. A traitor, an empress, and a queen. An iron tyrant. A cybernetic and an addict. A slip of a frightened girl. A pirate captain out of her depth. And Mercy.

Once more, Gerra's lips curled in a sneer.

"You forget yourself."

He misliked the tone and look of one who could not even best a reptile, whilst he'd left two sundered star destroyers and a sea of corpses in his wake.

Mercy Meliant Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Darth Carnifex Vesper Thrace Eurydice

 

[Vesper Thrace]

Vesper barely had time to hear the flash of lightsabers before Meliant came pressing his attack. The Captain felt a whisper of warning in the Force and hurled herself to the ground, just in time to avoid having her head removed from her shoulders for the trouble. The humiliation was almost worse; she rolled out of the way and got to her feet, nearly spitting with rage.

"I was standing right there, fool," she seethed, jabbing a finger into Amoun's chest. "Be assured that if it were not for the big woman personally, in my presence, identifying your value, you would bleed at my feet for this." Her furious gaze went to Mercy. "And if he does it again, even your favor will not be enough to save him. Tug his leash, Mother."

Vesper had seen quite enough of this freakshow, been insulted and almost killed for her trouble. Time to blow this popsicle stand. She unzipped her coverall and reached into an inside pocket, drawing out an orange packet of Beep Boop Bites, which she dropped into the apparently catatonic Quinn Varanin 's lap where Gerra had left her. "You look like hell. Eat something, make you feel better."

At that, she considered her work here as done. "I need to get back to my crew. You," she jutted her chin at Mercy. "Call me when you're ready to settle up. And you," Vesper said, turning to the thumb. "Take your wannabe epic poetry bullshit and shove it all the way up your ass. Don't call me the next time you need bodies to avenge your mistress' bruised ego. Or your own, you thumb-looking fuck."

Vesper turned on her heel and stalked out of the throne room, growling under her breath about any number of things as she zipped her coverall back up to her throat.

___________________________________________________________________

Mercy | Srina Talon | Quinn Varanin | Eurydice | Arris Windrun | Meliant | Hasuras Na-Gerra​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I cannot do that, child."

The astral projection of Darth Carnifex initially appeared as He did in life, tall and imperious; brimming with power and authority. But as He neared the girl, so tormented by the memories of her life, He began to change. It was gradual at first, but the closer He drew the faster the changes came. He shortened significantly, and the clothing about His body shifted and became less ornate, more simplistic in design. When He at last stood before Quinn Varanin, He had taken on the appearance of a child Himself, His own youth.

Rather than the blazing crimson He once looked down at her with, instead a warm and brilliant emerald green now looked to her. Traces of the Dark Lord she had come to know as family yet remained, it was impossible to erase those entirely. Yet here He stood, not as a Lord of the Sith, but as a child younger than the Queen of Eshan herself was. He attempted to reach down through the memories, to lay a comforting hand upon Quinn's shoulder. The gesture, though from a child, carried with it the strength and surety of the Dark Lord Himself.

"Your mother bid me bring you to her side, Quinn. She worries for you. You are not yourself, you are lost amidst the tempest. Hold to your love for her, and let it buoy you against it. Do not be drowned." His brow knit in determination. "I am here, I will always be here. So long as I am, she will always be here. I will never let the void take her, Quinn."

Elsewhere.

Darth Isolda gingerly stepped over the body of the Sovereign Protector at her feet. Spinning her lightsaber, she struck out against another. Her blade sliced through the vibro-glaive the Protector raised in defense, carving a narrow gash through his armor that bit deep into his chest cavity. Another had joined them since, and he spun his own glaive in defense as Isolda whirled on him next. None could hope to contend with the prowess of the Supreme Prophet, the Vahla Chosen was far too mighty for such defenders to repel; skilled as they were in their own right.

Reaching out with the Force, she struck the remaining Protector with a withering blast of bright red lightning. The bolts struck the Protector's armor, super-heating the metal until it burned and fused to the man's skin within it. He died as his own armor became his tomb, falling to the floor as great clouds of acrid steam arose all around his body.

With the threat momentarily abated, Isolda deactivated her lightsaber and returned it to within her robes. She passed over the bodies of the slain and began to make her way further into the archives. She was shortly followed by the team that had accompanied her, comprised chiefly of Blackblade soldiers alongside several technical experts. Despite all of her skill in the Dark Side of the Force, the Prophet was woefully under-equipped to handle advanced technology or complicated encryption. Thankfully, her Lord had given her all the means with which to overcome such limitations.

As they came upon the restricted vaults, biometric security became an issue that no amount of slicing could overcome. Fortunately, they'd prepared for that as well. Alongside Isolda strode a being who, at first glance, appeared to be entirely made out of liquid silver. At her direction, the creature's form began to morph into something new, their propositions shifting and their appearance changing to reflect that. In a matter of seconds, it was no longer a silvery being, but the spitting image of Darth Solipsis himself.

Through the insidious power of Sith Alchemy, the beast had transmogrified himself to perfectly resemble the errant Faithless Emperor. Not only that, but the creature even replicated Solipsis' biometrics to the point where even the scanner to the vaults was fooled. The doors to the vaults opened with a deep hiss, fog billowing out as they opened wide for Isolda and her cadre.

Srina Talon | Mercy | Quinn Varanin
Arris Windrun | Eurydice | Meliant
Hasuras Na-Gerra | Vesper Thrace ​

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Meliant | Srina Talon | Eurydice | Hasuras Na-Gerra | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace

She touched Srina's hand, just as she began to squeeze the amulet.

"No." She murmured lightly, her eyes on Gerra, even as Quinn was being delivered back to her mother. "You have done enough already." That was all she said, attempting to prevent Srina from breaking the amulet.

Mercy leaned in there, eyes hungry and fixated on the Vahlan Warlord. In that moment something shifted in her, she saw him in a different light now, and it was making her furious.

"You forget yourself."

Fingers squeezed into the marble. It groaned and the tone was almost human.

"You forget where you are." Mercy was already rising up and the air around her grew darker. Behind her the imprint of wings became briefly visible - not quite there, not quite gone. A cold power swelled in the room, and the ground trembled.. The Qhan of Qhans would know then, once their eyes met, seeing the madness in that swirl of amber.

No fear of death. Not for herself or the others. Mercy would gladly accept all their deaths if it meant the opportunity to rip his head off.

She began to move forward, the clash practically set in stone for all of them.

Then... Quinn Varanin stirred in her sleep. It was only a quiet sound, but it was enough to interrupt Mercy. Making her glance to the Princess turned Queen.

Her eyes softened when she saw how gently Quinn slept. Reaching out to stroke her hair lightly.

"Once. This one time... I will let this go. Take whatever spoils you want. I don't care. But don't let me see you again."

Mercy turned towards the Vahlan, the shadows behind her growing to the ceiling.

"If I hear my name in your mouth, if you try to spin this into some victory over me... I'll take back everything you won here and more."