Skirmish Tales of the Underground: Operation Dawn Veil [TJO vs. DIA]

[Pillar of Faith]

Tales of the Underground
Operation Dawn Veil
Dantooine
​

The High Republic and the Diarchy eye each other across growing divides in their beliefs and desires. In between them lie a thousand divided worlds. Some of these worlds align with the Diarchs' ideal of "peace through war," while others still hold onto the High Republic's vision of peace achieved through harmony and mutual understanding.

For many years, Dantooine has been a peaceful, idyllic world within Diarchy territory. It's a land of vast plains and deep history, its ancient ruins still faintly echoing with the presence of the Jedi who once roamed there. Now, however, this world has become a focal point in the covert conflict of ideologies.

Within this occupied region, a cell of the Jedi Underground has been quietly taking root. For months, their agents and supporters have been building ties with local governors, business owners, and farmers. They've been carefully constructing a secret network designed to help Force-sensitive individuals escape the watchful gaze of the Diarchy. Their efforts have now reached a critical point at the estate of Baron Cadrin Solmaren, Dantooine's Minister of Agricultural Trade. The Baron, with his considerable wealth and influence, can host important Diarchy officials while secretly harboring sympathies for the Republic.

Under the guise of preparing for a Diarchal Gala, an event intended to celebrate Dantooine's bountiful harvest and solidify its connection with Bastion, the Jedi Underground has turned Solmaren's vast estate into a hidden haven. Disguised among the staff, the guests, and the crates of celebratory items are dozens of Force-sensitive refugees, all awaiting their escape. Just beyond the estate, across the golden expanse of the plains, small, unassuming cargo ships with unassuming starfighters sit. They are ready to whisk their passengers away along what is known as "The Path," provided this operation goes as planned.

This is the most significant undertaking by the Underground to date. If the Jedi succeed, they will establish a functional, secret route through Diarchy space, a lifeline capable of saving countless lives. However, if they fail, the Diarchy will not only dismantle this network but also uncover the Jedi's presence within their territory.

SITE ONE: THE SOLMAREN ESTATE
A vast and elegant compound built from native stone and ivorywood, surrounded by terraced gardens and ornate reflecting pools. Servants and aides rush to prepare for the gala; decorating archways with banners of the Diarchy and arranging lavish displays of Dantooine's harvest.

Beneath the glittering civility lies tension. In the undercellars, Jedi and local sympathizers coordinate the final phases of the extraction. Coded messages pass between couriers disguised as stewards. Force-sensitives, hidden among the guests as servants or distant relatives, await the signal to move.

However, whispers have reached the local Diarchal garrison: the Brotherhood suspects something amiss. Diarchal agents are en route to "inspect" the event. Whether by intuition or intelligence leak, the veil of secrecy is fraying.

SITE TWO: THE PLAINS
Stretching beyond the estate's orchards lies a vast field of golden grass swaying in the midday light. But in these fields rest the ships of the Underground's convoy: old cargo haulers and maintenance freighters repurposed for rescue along with star fighters said to protect its cargo.

The open terrain provides little cover. Once the alarm sounds, this will become a battlefield; a race between the Diarchal forces mobilizing from the nearest outpost and the Jedi extraction teams rushing to lift off before the blockade tightens.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: DIII “Triumphant” command bridge | Dantooine Orbit
Tags: Gavin Vel Ryu Jung @OPEN
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

---

Reign had heard the whispers, bleeding heart Jedi attempting to “save” the force sensitives of the Diarchy. Sentimental drivel, thought the Diarch. But the thought of it, incensed Reign, that one of his governors would betray him. After all the good the Diarchy had brought to Dantooine.

When the invitation to the harvest festival arrived, Reign had decided to come personally, to root out this underground network.

With him, he had brought his two former apprentices and a detachment from the brotherhood. The Optios were now to lead forces and act independently, yet they were Reign’s most important assets. Trained directly by the Diarch himself.

Looking at the beautiful orb in front of the viewport, Reign sighed to himself before speaking to his apprentices.

“At least these Jedi have some spine.”

He turned and set off towards his shuttle.

“Now let’s go show introduce them to the netherworld”

 

[Pari Sylune]

SITE ONE: THE SOLMAREN ESTATE

Things were certainly not going as Pari had planned. When she left the Chalactan Adepts, it had been with the hope of becoming a Jedi, a dream she had carried since childhood. She'd imagined joining the mythical peacekeepers, lending her strength to heal a broken galaxy. But ever since the rise of the Galactic Empire, the galaxy itself seemed to have changed.

Where once there had been temples and teachers, there were now only scattered ashes. The few remaining Jedi were spread thin by endless war, and Pari's chances of finding a master, let alone being chosen as a Padawan—grew dimmer with every passing season.

Adrift and uncertain, she had wandered the stars in search of purpose, studying what little she could on her own. She was on Coruscant when the Empire claimed the crown jewel of the Core, and only the intervention of the Hidden Path had saved her. They smuggled her off-world before the city fell completely, a debt she could never repay.

Months later, she found her way to Shiraya's Sanctuary on Naboo, but even there, no place seemed to wait for her. Perhaps this was simply not the age for Jedi sagas. That truth stung, but it didn't extinguish her resolve. If she couldn't be a Jedi, she could still help others.

So now she stood disguised as a servant in the grand estate, heart pounding as she waited for the signal, the moment when the Underground would move to spirit refugees away from Imperial eyes. She might not be trained, and she might be afraid, but Pari had made her choice: she would still fight for the light, in whatever way she could.

 

[SID-10S "Sid"]

Site Two

Sid stared across the assembled craft with his processors firing anew.

So much had already happened in the time he had been unceremoniously powered down. Catching up was still an in process event as he continued to maintain the link he had formed with the freighters computer. Downloading and picking apart all the articles he could relating to the events after his failed defense at the Aureus estate. Zeriana had been returned. Naboo had come under attack a number of times. The galaxy was fighting a new threat. The Sith had put into place the Blackwall effectively cutting themselves off from the wider galaxy. A senate had formed within this new High Republic.

His photoreceptors made the one biological tic that he could not shake as he blinked at the sheer amount of data to process beyond just the scope of the events that had happened beyond the immediate concerns.

His rebuilt form shifting as he stood tall and flexed the digits before rotating the hand and letting it fall to his side.

Accessing the protocol list and displaying the active inhibitors that his master still had enabled in his features. A small whine of servos twisting in what might constitute anxiety at realizing the limiter for biological harm was still active despite his previous downfall. He made a task list in the back of his subsystem network to compose a counter argument for being allowed to disable that function. His initial design was that of a security droid. Not a protocol droid. Nor a service droid.

Had he been able to willingly harm a biological, he might not have been decommissioned for such an extended amount of time. Or been taken down so easily by the rabble of estate guards that had been previously assigned alongside him.

A task for a later date as one of the captains approached him with a wary stare. "Feth you're a big one-Any updates to share?"

Stopping just out of what he no doubt believed to be a safe distance from the droids arms. Photoreceptors slowly turned to face the captain before looking toward the estate in question.

"They have been instructed to maintain communication silence until required. There are no current updates to render. Please maintain situational readiness for an expedient loading of passengers and immediate take off." Sid did not add any emphasis on the orders. Instead allowing the man to stare at him a moment longer in silence.

The captain shifted nervously as Sid shifted his gaze in silence back to him.

"Do you have further queries, or are you seeking company to reassure confidence in this stressful situation?"

The captain frowned before letting out a gusty sigh. "I'll make sure everyone is on the same page then. I'll just. Be on my way, then."

Sid watched him move. The nervous energy that now dominated his every move. The photoreceptors clacked once more with the biological tic of a blink.

​

 

[Aiden Porte]

Site One
Iandre Athlea Kallous
​

The first thing Aiden noticed was the sound. Not of the music or the chatter echoing through the marble halls those came later but of the quiet beneath it. The rhythm of hurried footsteps softened to seem unhurried, the whisper of silk banners masking the murmur of encrypted comms. He could hear the Force moving beneath all of it, like water through narrow stone channels, carrying secrets toward a single point.

He stood at one of the open archways overlooking the terraced gardens, the warm Dantooine breeze stirring the ivory banners above him. From here, the compound looked almost peaceful. Lanterns reflected on the pools below, attendants moved in practiced grace, and somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, the first dignitaries' speeders hummed toward the gates. It was a perfect illusion serene, harmonious, civilized.

But Aiden had lived long enough to know the difference between peace and stillness. Stillness only meant that something was waiting to move.

He adjusted the cuff of his formal tunic, the gesture small, deliberate. The garment wasn't his—nothing tonight truly was. Every thread of this gala had been sewn for misdirection: the fine attire, the music, the wine, the Diarchal banners rippling in the evening air. All of it was a veil, a necessary lie wrapped in elegance. Beneath it, his people worked.

Through the Force, he could feel them — faint flickers of calm masked beneath anxiety. The servants carrying trays heavy with fruit and wine; the steward delivering coded invitations; the woman in the blue gown at the edge of the reflecting pool, her hand poised over her commlink like a dancer's flourish. All part of the same current, moving toward the same unseen point. The extraction.

He exhaled slowly, letting his awareness sweep lower, through the marble floors and into the cool stone below. The undercellars thrummed with quiet urgency. Jedi and locals alike worked in darkness, smuggling equipment through hidden passages, rerouting power conduits, weaving their hope into the bones of the compound.

It would have been beautiful, if not for the shadow on the horizon.

He'd felt it before the report came that faint disturbance in the current, the flicker of unease in the Force that heralded pursuit. The Brotherhood was moving. Diarchal agents were already en route, no doubt convinced by their own "intuition" that something here was wrong. Perhaps it had been intuition. Or perhaps one of the many frightened hearts at this gala had whispered to the wrong ear.

Aiden's jaw tightened. "So be it," he murmured, more to the wind than to anyone nearby.

He turned from the archway and began to move through the hall, his stride steady but unhurried. Every step he took seemed to echo the gathering rhythm of the night the fragile balance between light and discovery, faith and exposure.

For now, the music above still played. The laughter still rose. But beneath it, Aiden could already feel the first tremor of what was coming — a storm disguised as celebration.

And when it broke, he would be ready.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Site One
Tags: Pari Sylune | OPEN FOR ENEMIES - Tag me​

Lorn stood at the edge of the loading platform, the faint hum of repulsorlifts echoing through him. Golden plains stretched wide. Every minute counted. Each person rushing aboard a transport meant another life spared the Diarchy's cruelty: Force sensitives, their families, and most of their belongings being loaded and headed for Republic space.

He wove through the crowd, cloak pulled tight. The Force threaded through him in taut, frayed strands, every sense screaming caution. The air itself felt charged, as if the planet was holding its breath.

"Keep the manifests tight," he told the quartermaster, his voice low but steady. "No names. If we have to scatter, they head for point six on the Path."

A murmur of acknowledgment followed, then the shouts resumed. The shuffle of crates and cargo momentarily drowned the tension.

"Master Lorn!" He turned. Baron Solmaren half-ran across the terrace, his fine robes clinging to sweat-soaked shoulders. His face was pale, hands trembling as he thrust a datapad forward.

"There's a ship in orbit. Massive. Not patrol size. They've found us, I know it. They must have."

Lorn caught the man's shoulder, firm but gentle. "Breathe, Baron. If they knew, we'd already be ash. It's not over yet."

The Baron stared at him, eyes wide, searching for conviction. Lorn held his gaze steady.

Spotting movement nearby, he reached out and caught the sleeve of a young Padawan, Pari Sylune . She was a girl with wide eyes and dust on her cheeks, one he didn't recognize.

"Here," he said quickly, turning her toward the Baron. "This is, uh, one of our best. She'll stay with you, make sure you get to the secondary cellar if things go wrong."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Site One
Allies: DIA Kallous
Enemies: Aiden Porte ?

The scent of rain clung faintly to the breeze, though the sky above the Solmaren Estate remained clear. Iandre felt the tremor before she saw him—a familiar cadence in the Force, woven through the calm like breath drawn before speech.

She stepped from the shadowed corridor into the open archway opposite him, her presence quiet but deliberate. The gold trim of her formal attire caught the lanternlight, each movement measured, unhurried. To the gathering below, she was only another envoy—a neutral observer beneath Diarchal banners. But the Force beneath their feet told a different story. It moved restlessly, alive, as if it too was waiting.

"You always did find the quiet places first," she said, voice low but steady. "Though perhaps it isn't peace you're listening for…but the sound of what's about to change."

She came to stand beside him, gaze tracing the terraced gardens where lanternlight shimmered over still pools. The illusion of serenity was flawless—so flawless it unsettled her. For a moment, the light and reflection blurred, replaced by another scene entirely: the endless rain of Kamino, troopers at attention, the hum of a war already decided. The weight of that memory pressed against her chest before she let it pass, as one releases breath.

"The music and the wine help them forget the current under their feet," she continued, tone quiet but edged with remembrance. "They once did the same at the end of the war—celebrated peace, never seeing the next storm waiting behind it."

Her eyes shifted toward him, calm but intent, like a blade sheathed only out of respect. "Whatever you've set in motion tonight…It's already begun to ripple. The Force knows when something's about to break."

From somewhere below, the rhythm of boots began to echo through the marble—steady, disciplined, closing in. The gala's laughter softened as if the night itself was holding its breath.

"And the storm you're waiting for?" she murmured, the faintest flicker of the Force coiling around her words. "It's already here. You can feel it too, can't you?"

Her hand rested lightly at her side—not yet on the hilt, but close enough for the motion to be seamless when the time came. The air between them hummed with the tension of recognition—not hostility, not yet, but inevitability.

Above them, thunder rolled in the distance, though the sky still refused rain.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto was not truly attending the gala at least, not as a guest. He stood among the shadows of the upper floor, clad in the formalized armor of the Lilaste Order, its polished plates catching the muted shimmer of the chandeliers below. The crowd beneath him was a swirl of silks, jeweled collars, and hollow laughter, a facade of civility concealing something far darker. Officially, he and a single company of Lilaste soldiers had been deployed to provide protection for the event. Unofficially, he was there to watch to listen and to hunt.

Rumors had been circulating for weeks, whispers that the planetary governor had been hiding something from the Diarchy. Communications had grown strained, evasive. Several supply manifests didn't add up. Then came the intercepted messages encrypted, fragmented, but damning in their implications. Laphisto had pieced them together, cross-referencing them against reports from the Diarchys intelligence network. The pattern was unmistakable.

smuggling, eiher as relics or slavery of which he didnt know. He had brought his suspicions directly to Diarch Reign and Diarch Rellik , and a formal investigation was now quietly underway. The gala provided the perfect cover for observation an event where every major power broker, merchant, and noble would be gathered under one roof.

Laphisto stepped through one of the side doors on the mezzanine level, the soft hiss of the mechanism drowned out by the string quartet below. He approached the balcony rail, resting his clawed hand on the polished marble edge. From here, he had a commanding view of the entire ballroom the governor greeting guests with a politician's smile, servants weaving through the crowd with trays of amber wine, and guards positioned just a little too conveniently to block access to certain corridors.

with a deep breath and a golden crimson glow he pushed outwards in the force, His sight shifted into that other real his unique Force-sight flickering to life like an ancient lens of truth. The colors of the gala dimmed, replaced by the soft, glowing currents of energy that bound every living being below. Each guest's aura pulsed in rhythm with their heartbeat some bright with confidence, others clouded by fear or deceit.

Lorn Reingard , Pari Sylune , Aiden Porte and any other Force-sensitive in the room felt it the instant his sight dropped over them. It was not a whisper but a wave: a Force-shock that slammed into awareness like an active ocean smashing a lighthouse. The ballroom's polite murmur dimmed behind it; for a heartbeat the glittering crowd below became nothing but concentric ripples of intent

The energy was neither purely Light nor purely Dark. It braided them together light and shadow braided into a single, unified harmony, a living symbol of balance that pressed against the minds of those tuned to the Force. It did not caress. It did not demand. It catalogued. It cleared a path of attention straight to the corners where secrets hide.

Laphisto lifted a hand to his commlink without breaking his stance at the balcony. His voice went flat and low across every Lilaste Order frequency, practical and uncompromising. "Alright squads two and three, slip away and start checking the back rooms. Look for hidden access points. Keep shields tight and active. If this governor is trafficking slaves, we find them and we free them. If it's only artifact smuggling, tag and bag everything charge him with illegal smuggling and war profiteering. Move."

He let the command hang, then dipped his senses back into the tide, sweeping outward and downward like a predator narrowing in. The Force painted small anomalies for him: a servant whose aura jittered like a loose wire, a guard whose heartbeat lagged a fraction behind his breathing, a pair of crates kept suspiciously out of view. Each discrepancy was a thread he could follow.

Below, nobles continued to smile and toast and gossip, oblivious to the tide that now measured them. Above, Laphisto's presence armored, immovable, and clinically calm ran like a cold seam through the gala's warm fabric. The investigation had begun, and the room had already started to rearrange itself around the truth.

He extended his senses further, verifying what his instincts whispered. It wasn't just one or two individuals — there were dozens scattered throughout the room. Servants, attendants, even a few guests. Each presence subdued and cloaked, but undeniable once seen through his eyes. He murmured under his breath, voice just above a whisper. "where force sensitives gather.. danger follows close ..."

Activating his commlink again, his tone shifted from firm to cautious. "This is High Commander Laphisto. I'm detecting a significant number of Force-sensitives among the attendees far more than what's standard for a single province. No signs of aggression, but… it's deliberate. Coordinated, maybe. I'm sending the readings to command for verification."

He lowered his hand, letting his Force-sight fade until the world returned to its natural hues. The gala's laughter resumed its place in the soundscape, as if nothing had changed. holding his LO-20D rifle in his hands he moved from where he was standing and began to make his way on his 'Patrol'

He didn't know who these people were, or why they'd all gathered here of all places. But one thing was certain: this was no ordinary celebration. Something deeper was unfolding beneath the surface

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Location: Dantooine Orbit → Solmaren Estate
Tags: Caelus Vire // NIHIL | @OPEN - Going for the Governor
Gear: Conviction, Spear of the Star-Fallen King, The Blooded Seer Cloak

The cabin lights were dim, the faint hum of the drive core filling the silence.
Rellik's gaze stayed fixed ahead for a long time before he finally spoke, lips lifting to a faint smirk as he looked at Caelus across from him.

"You understand why we are here?"
"Yes, sir," Caelus answered. "The Minister betrayed the Diarchy. He sheltered Force-sensitives. Fed them through his trade network under false manifests."
Rellik nodded slowly.
"He could have come forward. Spoken openly. The Chancellorate would have heard him if not always kindly, at least fairly. But instead, he lied. He lied to his people, to his oath, to us."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"There will always be men like him, Caelus. Those who mistake secrecy for wisdom, mercy for virtue. They think the galaxy's wounds can be healed by forgiving the damned. Mercy for them is only allowing pain to bloom later. They are fools."
Caelus looked up, eyes steady.

"What about those who choose to protect him?"
There was no shift in his expression, only that measured calm that came before all his questions. Concern hidden under discipline.
"They have chosen where to lay their lives down."
The words carried no venom, only certainty. Rellik rose from his seat, his cloak catching faint streaks of red from the console lights.

Outside, the clouds broke. The ship plunged through the upper atmosphere in absolute silence, no transponder, no heat signature, a ghost sliding through the sky. Below them, the white sprawl of the Solmaren Estate gleamed against the amber plains, banners of the Diarchy rippling in the wind.

"Are we not going to sneak in?" Caelus asked, watching the scanners flare as the ship hurtled toward the ground. "What about the guards?"

Rellik's smirk returned, sharper now pride and finality in equal measure.

"Everything you see," he said, voice low and steady, "to the farthest horizon of this world is mine."

The stealth ship roared out of the clouds, engines flaring only at the last instant. It swept across the estate's terraces, scattering petals and dust before settling hard at the base of the grand staircase.

The ramp dropped with a hydraulic hiss.

From the storm of heat and light, two figures emerged, Rellik and Nihil, cloaked in the gust of wind from the ship. They landed in unison, boots striking stone.

Without a word, they began their ascent up the marble stairs toward the gala.

Caelus Vire // NIHIL

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin stood silently behind Reign as the shuttle cut through the thin atmosphere toward Dantooine. From the outside he looked composed, massive arms folded across a broad chest, the very picture of the Diarch’s shadow. Up close he was a statue of control. Inside, however, his pulse hammered like a war drum. Months of diplomacy and forced restraint had tightened a coil inside him. Now that coil was ready to snap.

The thought of returning to something raw and honest filled him with a fierce hunger. He had spent too long smoothing his edges, practicing pleasant smiles and measured words. He had learned to play the part of the diplomat, the loyal Optio who could negotiate a settlement and then carry out its harsher terms. Still, the animal in him paced and clawed at the bars. A battle was coming and he wanted nothing more than to meet it with his hands, his saber, and the men who answered to him.

Dantooine rolled out below them like a pale jewel, its plains and low hills quiet and deceptive. To Gavin the calm felt false. He hated what the Jedi represented for the same reason he hated their complacency. In his mind the Jedi held meetings and rituals while people starved and suffered. They spoke of freedom and harmony and left the hard, bloody work to others. He saw them as sentimental obstructions, not saviors. The idea of them arriving to lecture or to pacify irritated him almost as much as any blow.

“They will not have them for long,” he said, the grin stretching across his face until it was nearly feral. There was no malice in the words that he did not mean. “I will show anyone foolish enough to stand against us what obedience looks like.” His voice carried the kind of simple certainty that made men follow him.

As the shuttle hummed down and the landing bay doors opened, Gavin felt the familiar weight of his lightsaber at his side. The hilt was a quiet comfort and a promise at once. His hand found it almost without thought, fingers curling around the grip while his face kept its measured calm. He was a man who could turn a conversation into blood, and a man who could keep his blade sheathed until the perfect moment.

He stepped off the ramp beside Reign and into the thin Dantooine wind. The shuttle’s engines sighed shut and the world smelled of dry grass and cold stone. Gavin did not bother to hide the smile that tugged at his mouth. It was a small thing and it did not soften him. He was ready. The diplomacy had its place, but the battlefield was where he belonged. Today, he would see whether the Jedi preferred words or the sharp answer of his blade.

Diarch Reign

SO OPEN COME FIGHT ME PLEASE

 

[Aiden Porte]

Site One
Iandre Athlea Kallous
​

The tremor reached him first faint, familiar, steady. Not through sight or sound, but through that deeper sense that hummed between two who had long learned to hear the same current of the Force. It was like recognizing a voice before it spoke.

Aiden turned slightly, his profile caught in the lanternlight as Iandre stepped from shadow into form. The faint scent of rain that had no storm brushed through the corridor, and he almost smiled faint, inward. Of course she would arrive like this: calm against the gathering tide, eyes reflecting both the present and the ghosts behind it.

"I could say the same of you." he replied quietly, his gaze lingering on the horizon where the first distant flash of lightning illuminated nothing but clear skies. "You've always known where the silence hides its warnings."

He followed her eyes toward the terraced gardens, the serene illusion that hung over the Solmaren Estate like a painting stretched too tight across a frame. Below, laughter rose and fell with the cadence of the music, the murmur of conversation weaving through the air surface calm, poised above the fraying web beneath it.

"Peace." Aiden murmured, more to himself than to her. "We call it that because it sounds cleaner than what it truly is. But peace built on denial never lasts. It waits, buried under marble floors and perfumed air, until someone remembers to listen."

He turned toward her then not sharply, but with the weight of recognition that comes from crossing paths too many times on opposite sides of a shifting line. The Force thrummed softly between them, taut, as though measuring whether this was reunion or reckoning.

He could sense the ripple she spoke of the moment where choice begins to close into consequence.

"It hasn't broken yet..." he said, the smallest of smiles across his face. "But once the current moves, you can't hold it still. You can only decide how deep you're willing to wade. I will go as far hope allows me, and yet, I'm still here."

He let the sound fill the silence between them before he spoke once more, softer now, almost reverent.

"Yes." he admitted at last. "I feel it too, and I've endured plenty of storms before."

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby adjusted his collar for the thousandth time. It was perfect for hiding the extra lightsabers he carried, leaving only the one with the golden guard exposed. He also used every technique he knew to almost disappear in the Force, looking more like a young user who was still weak in it than someone who had the honor of being trained by Laphisto , Zinayn , and Diarch Reign , as well as having been introduced to the Brotherhood by Diarch Rellik .

"Are all dances like this...?"

He made a sweeping gesture, pointing to the room full of adults, besides the guards. He was bored; apparently, there was no one close to his age there.

He snorted and waited for what really had to happen to happen soon to end the boredom and maybe give him a chance to test his lightsaber against a Jedi. He had faced Sith apprentices in the previous war, so maybe now he would have a real challenge.

He looks at Saul Whesai , waiting for some comment from the cyborg.

OOC interaction invite: Pari Sylune feel free to interact since Aknoby is a teenager)

 

[Kallous]

Kallous had been in service to the Diarchy for a decade now. From young late adolescence to now, he had been not only a loyal servant of the people who had saved him, but an apprentice to Diarch Rellik . He had been given many blessings, most important of all of them however they had given him a home, and a purpose. A debt he could never truly repay.

He loved the Diarchy and its people. He loved them deeply. And ever since they had begun to guide him along his path, he’d learned much. Most profoundly though he’d learned the power of letting go of his hatred, his fear and his lust for violence and strength. He’d changed much, and for the better. But then he’d learned of this betrayer, one that had been shown that the Diarchy, in spite of its flaws, was ultimately good and just.

And this man had betrayed the Diarchy who had shown him only goodwill. And it made his blood boil. The calm that had enveloped him since his foray into the Maw stirred into a maelstrom that was barely contained.

Kallous, an Optio in the Diarchy’s hierarchy, called the soldiers under his command together, and he had joined with the Diarchs as they approached the planet. A platoon of his Storm Detachment accompanied him to Dantooine, four squads of ten soldiers each. Intelligence indicated that force users could be present, and he figured it was high time his specialized unit be tested in the field.

He arrived soon after his Master, Diarch Rellik , did. Landing slightly further away and on either side of the Diarch’s shuttle. For now the soldiers remained on standby, they were not to go in guns blazing, no not yet. Kallous wanted them held back, in case things got bad. But he himself disembarked and entered the building. His fury hard to mask, but controlled, sent ripples through the force that all who were sensitive to it would be able to sense.

Unlike many of the other guests he didn’t wear anything overly fancy. Little more than the robes one might expect a Jedi to wear, though certainly in darker colors. He entered the estate, and immediately he began to scan the area. Looking for any suspicious persons, and in particular Baron Cadrin.

He did little to interact with the guests, and simply searched. The Diarchy, what with the presence of both Diarchs and many of their allies, was not going to be hiding their presence. This was their turf, and they weren’t about to be tiptoeing around in their own territory.

No, they would enforce their laws in the open.

Aiden Porte , Iandre Athlea

 

[Saul Whesai]

For the most part, Saul wasn't looking at the dancing or anyone as Aknoby fidgeted. It seemed like he was focusing on something else at the moment in his vizor that was hooked into his limbs.. "Pretty much... It's just free food and endless talking for the most part unless you get lucky... You might as well get some food while we have time on our hands." His interactions with Liin told him how lucky he got...

The cyborg could understand the basic reasoning the Order had paired him and Aknoby up. They wanted to give the young man on-the-job training without the risk, and so here they were, in the middle of a hostile space with only each other.

High above, a bird landed on one of the electrical wires —a bird made up of wires and metal, rather than actual flesh. It innocently eyed the surroundings till it noticed the bustling on the estate's landing pad, the moving of crates and people into waiting freighters. He had noticed the craft before but thought it was just catering or supplies for the event. How wrong he was...

Quietly, the bird hopped off its perch and did a gentle circle above the landing site, Saul piloting it just by using his limbs. It was clear to him now that this was some sort of human smuggling operation... The how and why he still didn't understand, though. Till he saw the planetary governor together with a broad-shouldered man in his early 40s, who clearly looked worried. The massive Destroyer that had just appeared overhead was definitely doing its job...

The man with dirty blonde pulled a young woman who still looked like a girl who guided the governor away. Why would they entrust a girl with keeping their patron safe? Unless... The Cyborg quickly activated his earpiece, speaking across the Lilaste Order's broadband to Laphisto and the other squad combing the house. "All personnel, this is Overwatch, crash the landing pad. Whoever these people are, they are trying to load up people who are willing to go. Might be Jedi... Don't see any marks, deformities, or yellow eyes that say otherwise. Currently, one of their members is trying to squirt out with our HVT. Will try to intercept..." With that, Saul gripped Aknoby's hand and pulled the young Chiss to his feet as he stood up. "You might get a wish for a dance partner your age yet." Quickly walking forward, he hoped they could intercept the pair in time and find out what was really going on here...

TLDR: Pari now has a Bird following her.
Lorn Reingard , Aknoby , Pari Sylune , Laphisto

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

You have to understand the context: here the Jedi are trying to use a gala as a celebration in honor of the Diarchy. It's only natural that I go pay it a visit I love partying, feasting, having a drink. As a member of its High Council, I naturally have my place as Inspector General, directly under the supervision of Diarch Rellik as an apprentice. I act here for the Diarchy. I serve its interests and I will make sure this whole gala is conducted properly.

I walk up to the offered stand and pour myself a beer, watching the Diarchy's flags ripple in the wind black, with the symbol in white and gold trim, as tradition demands. One thing's for sure: my presence must be intimidating in the Force; having recently drunk the water of power on Mortis, my strength is visible to everyone here. I'm not trying to hide or to stop anything for now. I'm just wandering around with a glass in my hand and my saber at my belt.

For the occasion I dug out a second-hand outfit a black and gold suit proudly displaying my colors and my affiliation. Let's be clear: I'm not here to terrorize the weak and the innocent; servants are always useful. Traitors, on the other hand, I detest, and I will show no mercy if I run into any. Nyva refused to come to Dantooine I can't blame her, it brings back bad memories. Since the ex-governor betrayed the Diarchy, it caused some internal turmoil, so I decided to let her breathe a bit. I told her I would take care of it personally. I will see to it that only the right people are killed. Having the Force is one thing; using it intelligently is better.

The building is vast; the old wooden corridors are large and labyrinthine. I check the plans on my datapad: for now, nothing suspicious. I keep walking with a glass in my hand and those who cross my path bow without asking questions; I acknowledge them with a polite hand gesture and continue my rounds through the building, carrying out my inspection and making sure the gala is authentic and functional.

"Everything seems in order for the moment. I'll continue this way."

I take a stone staircase and descend the steps slowly, savoring my beer. Smiling, I deliberately let my aura flare so I'll be noticed wherever I go. I have nothing to hide. Of course I could locate them very easily, but that wouldn't be fun, so I search. My senses, however, are tuned to defense if someone tries to attack me I will be ready to react, naturally.

tag : open / Location : Gala place, inside the building.