Faction [TSC] Terror in Tapani

[Emissary of Strife]

It all started with a betrayal…​

The Covenant had arrived in numbers, their Hellmouths tore the very fabric of spacetime, regurgitating whole fleets far behind the safety of patrols – battle lines too far, too unprepared to respond. It was House Cadriaan they struck first, the longtime cadets of Pelagia, and their most trusted ally. Known for trade that flowed like goldwater, they were ripe for the picking. Their demise sent a shockwave across the Sector.

Panic was a wildfire. It burned across hearts and minds. What remained? Brambles of paranoia and hate. It was easier to blame your enemy than a new threat, even as rumors spread of marauders coming to despoil all worlds. There was no unity against this threat, no investigation as to their providence… Nobles sharpened their knives as the fleets of vengeful Pelagia poured across the Mecetti Province.

Meanwhile, the Sith warbands made for Calipsa, the world of the very family who invited them in.

Oh, what a mistake that was.

Elsewhere, the Covenant makes different moves.

In Shindra's Veil, the largest caravan in recent galactic history musters. Merchants, refugees, noble houses and their priceless objects; all of it gathered in one place. They believed the nebula would protect them long enough to make their escape towards safety in the Southern Systems. The Covenant had noticed - raiders nipped at the heels of smaller fleets, closing off corridors of travel, and allowing refugees to flee burning worlds with their possessions intact - all to have their prize in one place.

On Sheva, the Covenant war camp has assembled. The unremarkable backwater would serve as a staging ground for the larger Tapani campaign, where cunning and warlike minds gathered; those who saw the big picture.

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY

House Calipsa gathers in their capital for a Life Day celebration. What was meant to be the guise of their deniability is now their very undoing. The Covenant never intended to collect its modest fee when so much more is left on the table. Let this be a lesson to them - leave the bodies and take everything else.

Madrona A’Mia Varin Mortifer Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Neriah Calven Vexorion Ghruna Valephor Crokell

OBJECTIVE TWO - THE CORRAL

Tapani is a wealthy Sector full of wealthy people who avoid risk like a nasty relative. A massive trade caravan - some say the largest in recent history - plans a great escape. They believe safety in numbers is enough. Little do they know they are corralled by the Covenant, ready to pick 'em dry. Many of the ships contain priceless treasures, the possessions of noble families that span generations.

Gorkaash Mercy Vestra Tane Gillem Karok Lysander von Ascania Naniti Rixa Jas Katis Nyles Kote Tibera Jessen Tobi Sharpe

OBJECTIVE THREE - REAL WORK

The Covenant war camp has assembled on Sheva, a backwater in the Freeworlds Territory of Tapani. From here, the Covenant prepares its push into the Sector as a whole. Inspect the fleets and armies, talk with your fellow warriors; imagine what a permanent foothold in the Tapani Sector might look like. There are Pelagia and Mecetti prisoners to interrogate, too.

Riffraff Ranat Anet Raine

 

[Rixa]

OBJECTIVE TWO

OPEN FOR ANY SITH COVENANT PASSENGERS WHO PAID FOR A RIDE


The stars snapped back into place as The Wayward Star dropped out of hyperspace with a familiar, irritated shudder. Consoles flickered, complained, and then settled as the ship slid into realspace on a drifting vector.

Rixa leaned forward in the pilot’s chair. A convoy stretched across the void ahead of them. Clean lines and polished hulls moved in slow, complacent formation. Freighters. Passenger liners. Escorts hanging close enough to offer the pretense of protection. Wealth and confidence all on display in one sensor picture.

Rixa didn't care who was paying for more ships to raid the convoy. It was a chance to enjoy some chaos and get enough credits to keep flying.

"Well," Rixa muttered. "That’s just fecking beautiful."

At the helm, Voro Kesh exhaled smoke through his teeth. His scarred Nikto features barely shifted as he offered a different course. "Too neat," he laughed.

From beneath an open access panel near the rear bulkhead, Sial Renn snorted. The Mirialan’s boots stuck out first, one heel tapping against exposed plating as she worked. The ship was supposed to be a finely tuned machine. Its current crew were not up to the task.

“Engines can run at half speed,” she called. "After that, we start getting noticed."

She was the most loyal member of the crew, having been rescued from a slave ring.

Rixa eased the Wayward Star into a lazy drift at the outer fringe of the convoy’s reach. Raiders would be lining up their runs soon. She didn't want to be the one that alerted the Tapani vessels.

She rolled a stimstick between her fingers without lighting it, eyes fixed on the distant ships.

"Voro," she said at last. "Pick me a tasty looking target without drawing attention with the scanners."

The Wayward Star floated on. Her crew waited in the uneasy calm before they made their attack run.

 

[Arris Windrun]

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY
Calipsa Estate
Tags: Acier Moonbound | Neriah Calven | Varin Mortifer

Arris reholstered her revolvers for the first time since giving them up, weeks ago, at the Red Ronin Club.

"When you come back, your shit is in check or we will go for the Core without you."

Admittedly, her finger itched like an addict. She remembered the feeling clearly.

She had her revolver still trained on Mercy, and her finger fondling the heavy trigger. Were it any lighter, she would've discharged a second time already.

She tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Down over there," then disappeared into the back of their cramped dropship.

There, Acier and Neriah waited, two of the Covenant's captured Jedi. The same age. But very different. Acier, the newer of the two, already carried himself with the cold and clinical grace of a professional killer - he treated his role like a job had to be done and nothing more. Quite the opposite of Neriah, who had suffered to make progress at the Academy, and often showed it.

Yet, for both of them, today was more than a test: it was the final step of their initiation, to prove they were no longer Jedi. The Dark Side was not easy to dismiss once let in, and Arris could imagine no better way to seal it than this.

"We're down in three," she broke whatever conversation they had (or the silence shared between them). "Everyone on the Estate grounds is our enemy.

"Everyone." She needed it to be clear. "You will kill them - no exceptions. We can't be sure they won't try to hide among the staff, so it's not about proving that they're Calipsa. If they're here? They're dead. Yeah?"

The cyborg turned her head to Varin, who had joined them. She had crossed paths with him more than once, seen him in combat twice now.

"I'll trust you with the Patriarch. He, most of all, cannot be allowed to escape."

She tossed him a holopuck. When activated, it would display visual information on the man himself. Older, in his late 60s or early seventies at least. Distinct birthmark along his right eye.

 

[Mercy]

Onboard The Siegemother
​

Tag: Lysander von Ascania | Naniti

The campaign to breach the Tapani Sector and claim its riches was in full swing. Mercy hadn't been the strategist that came up with the idea of betraying the Calipsa House, she found it distasteful, in all honesty. If it had been up to her the Covenant would have simply began an invasion and slammed their fist into their gates until it shattered.

It was honest that way, fair, brutal in a way that Mercy enjoyed. But she had been outvoted, the others believed that applying a bit of strategy would put them in a better position.

Mercy couldn't really argue with that. She wasn't naive, she knew it was the better plan, it was just not the way she preferred to do things.

The Auric Horde had reversed into the region hours ago. A fleet made up of salvaged warships, makeshift industrial haulers with armament soldered onto it, and heavy durasteel platting attached. Gleaming in space, forged together by the Graspborn for their Sovereign. This Horde was a sizeable chunk of the forces committed by the Covenant for this campaign.

But there were others too, still flowing into the system or setting up positions elsewhere.

Even now she was getting missives that the light and fast pirate ships were harassing the Tapani Convoy. Leading it right towards the anvil that was Mercy and her forces.

While they waited... Mercy got word that someone she knew wished an audience. She hadn't spoken to Lysander since that little meet and greet on Nar Shaddaa. But his bar had a lot of whiskey that she polished off, but they hadn't directly talked there. So she had someone send Lys a response, to come meet her on her flagship, the Siegemother.

A planetoid cracker that had been converted into a warship, the warship of the Auric Horde.

That is where Lysander and plus one would find Mercy, onboard the monstrous large ship on the bridge.

Mercy was standing in front of the large viewports, watching as more and more ships joined the anvil.

"Von Ascania, was wondering when you'd show up. How have you been, lad?" Turning around to meet him and noticing his companion. "And... who might this be?" A little smirk as Mercy glanced back to Lysander. It seemed the boy had found himself a date, one important enough to take to fun events such as these.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY
Tags: Valephor Crokell | Open​

Opportunistic and an educator to the core, A'Mia readied herself for a foray into Tapani. In part it was on behalf of the growing Sith Covenant community, but she largely had immense interest in ensuring the culling of an entire family was indeed put to good use. There were few things she abhorred more than wasting perfectly good biomass.

After taking interest in the education of a newly arrived student, learning he possessed certain useful characteristics and Force abilities, the neti decided to chaperone his first big mission with the Covenant. It was an opportunity to test the boy's mettle of course, but it was also always useful to have an extra set of keen eyes when heading into a situation that called for attention to detail.

"Come now, student," A'Mia beckoned as she drifted down the loading ramp of the Covenant ship she'd caught a lift on.

"Best we arrive ahead of the rabble somewhat, to lay claim on the best specimens of course."

 

[Naniti]

OBJECTIVE: TWO
Seize Loot in the Tapani Sector
On-board The Siegemother

Lysander had been sent on or ran off ahead to infiltrate the Tapani Sector in anticipation of some Covenant agenda. A role that'd necessitated leaving Naniti behind. Maybe if they knew what her unique talent was they wouldn't think her ill-equipped for such a mission, but they didn't and the Togruta wasn't exactly anxious to change that. So, she'd been left behind to resume training and studying on her own while awaiting news. Which meant when news did arrive in the form of a deployment to the Tapani Sector, Naniti looked forward to -- hopefully -- reuniting with Lysander once more.

In public, Naniti restrained herself unless Lysander was the one to make an invitation. She didn't have many... well, really any friends. Being taught to distrust everyone and use them until they were no longer of value hadn't left her with a lot of people from her part hanging around. So, inwardly, she was bubbling with excitement being near him again. Though any trip together did offer the chance to linger quite close at his side. So they could talk and avoid running into others, of course. Not because she wanted to hold his hand or anything sappy like that. His warm hard full of strength never crossed her mind!

While parted, Naniti had sought to move her instruction along to try and measure up to the man flung about by their Overlords. She just had to prove herself, somehow, and then she wouldn't be stuck on Desevro. A few tales of relatively ordinary, if notable events were shared with Lysander so they didn't need to walk in silence. Just something to fill him in on what she'd been up to. Naturally, Naniti wanted to know what he'd been doing as well, but secrecy might hold his tongue. She wouldn't like it, but she'd have to accept it for the time being.

They soon strode onto the bridge of the ship with Mercy in command. Naniti knew of Mercy -- including her imposing physique -- but hadn't ever properly met them. Seeing as how Lysander had been the one called to report in, the Togruta wasn't the one to speak first either. It was curious to hear someone so high up in authority address Lysander as 'lad' though. Sure, Sith Lord sand Ladies had their mannerisms, but it was far more conversational than Naniti had expected.

Dark lips parted slightly to respond before they closed just as quickly with Mercy's attention immediately back on Lysander. Naniti would just have to let him set the tone and pace with their commanding officer.

Mercy | Lysander von Ascania

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer

Neriah was oblivious to the Galaxy. Her gaze was firmly focused on the journal she held in her hand. The words that she had written by hand. No datapad, no typing. Just tears. Sweat. Ink. Blood. Pain. All of it was contained within the pages. Yet it felt as if they were more than just pages with ink. Her emotions. Her anger. Her rage. It was all condensed inside. Pages filled with scribbles, harsh words, ripped pages. Pages upon pages of just BURN. RIP. DIE. Repeated over and over. Were they words describing what she wanted to happen to herself? To others? Who knows. Though it was the moment that Arris said the word enemy that Neriah snapped out of her thoughts, lifting her gaze over the top of her glasses to stare at the cyborg.

"Everyone. That includes us?"

...Well. Having a sense of humour was something out of character for Neriah. But for some reason, she felt...giddy. She wasn't happy. Far from it. But there was something about this mission. About her. Neriah didn't entirely have a problem with killing. Not anymore. It was simple life or death. If her mind rejected the idea, her body would react anyway. It was better for mind and body to work in tandem with each other, as opposed to fighting. The colour of her saber proved, to her at least, that she was already too far gone...even if it was just purple.

"I'd have been better suited for something more stealth like. I'm not like those two. Though, I'm sure you already knew that."

She flicked her finger between the other two Acolytes with a scowl on her face. It was true. Those two seemed far better for some kind of frontal assault. It would have been better if she had found a way to insert herself amongst the employees. Poison the guards to make this attack even more efficent. In the past, those thoughts might have scared Neriah. But that part of her had long died. Logic was all that remained when the heart had decayed.

​

 

[Vexorion]

​

[]

Torture Me - Davey Suicide​

Objective: 1 - Life Day
Tag: Open


Vexorion slid through the sewer's arteries like a thought that should not exist, his form stitched to shadow and condensation, every movement measured against the listening world above. The city's weight pressed down through layers of stone and rusted grates, and he welcomed it; the pressure, the secrecy, the way it muffled judgment.

Footsteps thundered overhead, voices laughed, lives continued in ignorant rhythms, yet none of it touched him. He learned the language of dripping water and the hymns of distant machinery, timing his passage between their pulses so that even the walls seemed to forget he had passed.

As he moved, Vexorion rehearsed futures. Faces surfaced in his mind like bloated corpses, each one examined, discarded, refined. He imagined their final moments not as endings, but as artifacts; memories yet to be forged, already warm in his grasp. Somewhere ahead, above the filth and darkness, their lives waited, unaware that they were already echoes, and that he was simply on his way to collect them.

Pausing in the half-light to adjust his mask, his blood stained fingers lingering as though in reverence for the barrier it provided. It was more than concealment; it was a covenant, a safety net stretched between the innocence of the world and the ruin of his face; a face twisted into configurations that bred nightmares rather than expressions.

Beneath the mask, flesh remembered mistakes of origin, angles and scars that suggested an intelligence gone wrong at conception. The mask corrected this, imposed a lie clean enough for reality to accept. As he secured it, he felt whole in a way skin had never afforded him, a curated absence where judgment could not root.

A single ladder rose before him, slick with age and neglect, a spine leading upward into the land of the living. He climbed slowly, each rung a deliberate crossing between worlds, the sewer's damp breath giving way to the thin promise of open air. Above waited streets and rooms and people who still believed the ground beneath them was neutral, unmarked.

He ascended with the patience of something that knows time will bend eventually, carrying with him the quiet certainty that this world would soon become a graveyard under his care. He would tend it meticulously, seed it with bodies, feel its weight grow familiar beneath his steps. When his hand reached the final rung, the darkness below did not release him, it followed, eager to see what new shapes it would be given among the living.

"And now the horrors shall begin," Vexorion snickered, his voice a thin fracture in the night, "my nightmares made patient, made purposeful, finally loosed upon their chosen." He pushed aside the metal grate with a slow, reverent scrape, as though opening a reliquary rather than an exit, and let the sounds of celebration spill over him, laughter, music, the fragile faith of Life Day.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Calipsa - Calipsa Estate

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

OBJECTIVE 1 - LIFE DAY​

Ace didn't move when Arris spoke. The dropship's interior vibrated softly as it bled altitude, he stayed where he was, back straight, hands loose at his sides, posture disciplined enough to pass for confidence.​

​

Everyone on the Estate grounds is our enemy.​

​

The words landed cleanly, delivered with the same tone you'd use to explain gravity. Ace filed it away without comment. That was the trick. It always had been.​

​

You didn't argue the thought. You didn't wrestle it. You didn't even acknowledge it fully. You simply took it, folded it small, and shoved it somewhere deep where it couldn't slow your hands. He'd learned that long before the Covenant. Back on Bonadan, back when thinking too hard got you killed. Feeling too much got you sloppy. So you buried it, and you kept moving.​

​

Varin was here too. But the other Acolyte, Neriah, shifted. Ace didn't look at her at first, but he felt the energy roll off her in jagged edges. When she spoke, when she joked about everyone meaning everyone. He ignored that too.​

​

Arris finished laying out the rules. No exceptions. No sorting. No mercy. Ace inhaled slowly through his nose, he could feel the pressure building behind his ribs now, the dread. This wasn't a battlefield, some attack on the Empire, or a duel where intent mattered. This was a celebration. Completely mundane.​

​

He told himself, again, that this was temporary. That this was the cost of proximity. Information came from trust, and trust came from blood. The end goal was to stop them. To learn. To dismantle it later. That was the lie he kept polished.​

​

And yet, his mouth opened before he fully decided to let it.​

​

"Arris..." He said calmly, the tone of someone asking for clarification, not absolution. His eyes lifted to the cyborg, steady and direct. "What about the children?"​

​

The question hung there. Internally, something splintered, a hairline crack in the armor he'd spent years reinforcing. Ace straightened as the dropship continued its descent, expression smoothing back into something unreadable.​

​

Detached. Composed. Ready. If he didn't think about it, he could get through this. He always had.​

​

Later. He told himself, like on Nar Shaddaa.​

​

Arris Windrun | Neriah Calven | Varin Mortifer​

 

[Valephor Crokell]

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY

Madrona A’Mia​

The shuttle's bay opened, and Valephor preemptively shut his eyes in preparation of the accursed brightness he now associated with life planetside. But there was no need. The sky was a dense layer of thick brown smog, roiling like a river of mud suspended from above. A quick survey of his surroundings revealed a sea of arcologies and high-density factories, their bases obscured by the haze.

Instinctively, his hand rested at the breather on his hip, wary of the Type II atmosphere. It was unnecessary, the landing pad they had set down on- and indeed the entire estate- was kept pristine by an atmospheric shield. As further evidence of the 'noble' caste's grandeur, the architecture of the complex was all shining silver spires and elaborate electrum tracery, the endless metal broken only by a smattering of carefully manicured and undoubtedly imported plant life.

"Come now, student," Professor Madrona interrupted his observations with a command, walking gracefully down the ramp. His eyes fixed on her, and his throat made a strangled noise as his eyes drifted somewhere most impolite- entirely due to their unreasonable size difference of course! It wasn't his fault, even if it was to his benefit... "Best we arrive ahead of the rabble somewhat, to lay claim on the best specimens of course."

He stiffened. "Yes, Professor Madrona," he acknowledged obediently, looking anywhere but the woman as he marched after her. She was no longer the only tree he'd ever seen, but there would never be anything quite like his first. Oh but she was still as magical as the moment he laid eyes on her-

Ah, no, best not to think like that. She was of a higher caste than him. It was disrespectful. He was lucky enough that she'd allowed such offenses to slide, he'd rather not push his luck.

No, now was his time to display his worth.

Calipsa was a world sparse in life even before it was pumped full of toxins, and so when he activated his Life Sense, there was very little ambient noise to obscure any targets. The sapients were mostly laborers- skilled or unskilled- and packed into the various high density housing. Millions of them lived in the capital of Cambar, but not just any would satisfy his Professor- nor their mission to cause as much death among the nobles as possible.

"Within this estate, three hundred and twenty-one sapients reside. Two hundred and seventy-eight exhibit respiratory damage consistent with prolonged exposure to the contaminants within Calipsa's atmosphere, though it is mostly trivial for all but eighty-nine of them. Their combat ability should be unaffected. More impactful would be the rampant heavy metal poisoning, only thirty-six have acceptably low levels of such pollutants in their skeletal structure, neurology, or lymphatic system. Of those, seventeen are beyond prime age, and another eight are below the age of sexual maturity, leaving eleven potential candidates: seven female, and five male." He rattled off. "Ah, no wait, three of the females have dead-tech implants in their arms. Small things, about four centimeters long and two millimeters in width..." He scrunched his brow. "Some sort of... hormonal dispenser? There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with their endocrine systems though... they might have some sort of deficiency I can't detect, I apologize."

Valephor hesitated for a moment. "Nevertheless, there are also a dozen non-sapient signatures with body masses in excess of forty kilograms. And with the environment so sanitized, I am unable to detect any droids, though considering the two Class Fives polishing the landing pad, I assume there are more present..."

The apostate tilted his head from side to side. "There are also three... additional entities. One feels... murky, somehow. I think they are in some form of stasis, yet they still seem conscious? Maybe? Somehow? Another has a heavily distorted genetic code- some sort of mutation brought about by centuries of exposure to radioactive contaminants I presume. And the last is... faint. Small. Too old to be a child, too injured to be healthy, and too active to be debilitated."

"I think that's everything..." Valephor trailed off, hoping that he had been thorough enough. He really really really did not want to disappoint Professor Madrona. Ever since he'd been so violently ripped from his home, he'd found that outsiders were squeamish about the strangest things. The crew of the Delight had no issues killing sapients by the dozens in their raids, or enslaving them and subjecting them to supreme violence- as was their right of course- yet they had taken such exception to some of his experiments.

But his Professor was not so illogical. She was incredibly intelligent, admirably pragmatic, highly amiable, but most of all she was sane. Above all other things he didn't want to lose the one small pillar of stability he'd found since the destruction of his home.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with how pretty she was. That, he swore!

OPEN​

 

[Tobi Sharpe]

​

​

| Location | Trade Caravan, Tapani Sector​

| Objective | [OBJ2] Mind my own business​

| Bounty | N/A​

​

A lone figure leaned back in their seat, legs kicked up with a hat resting over their face, seemingly deep asleep aboard one of the many vessels laden with precious cargo. All seemed quiet and peaceful for the time being as quiet snores were heard from beneath the brim of the hat, at least until the cowboy's rest was rudely interrupted by an armed soldier bearing the emblem of the Hellion PMC group walking over, kicking at one of Tobi's legs followed by a loud, "Wake up you lousy bum!"​

​

The sudden movement caused him to lurch forward suddenly in a daze, one hand scrambling to get a hold of his hat and push it back so that it was now resting normally atop his head, his other hand gripping at his holstered revolver, thumb cocking back on the hammer. It took a moment for Tobi to get his bearings as he eased his thumb off the hammer and trigger before groaning, "Well that was mighty rude. What'd you go and do that for? We there yet?" he asked. The guard just shook his head and growled before walking off and muttering. "Why these nobles bothered hiring some of these lot is beyond me. Paying them to guard all this cargo and all they do is sleep on the job..." ​

​

Tobi raised a hand up to his mouth to call out to the guard walking away, "Oi! You din't answer m' question! Are we there yet?" He furrowed his brow and frowned as he was ignored before letting out a long sigh. Well, now that he was awake, figures it would be good for him to stretch himself out. He stood up with a yawn as he stretched himself out like a cat that had just finished taking a nice long nap, raising his hand up to his eyes to wipe away the crumbs before letting out one last long, drawn-out yawn before shaking his head and body like he were shaking off a cold chill. He felt like his day was not going to go as smoothly as he'd hoped.​

​

✩ Ace in the Hole ✩
[ ] [ ] [ ]

[ Open ]

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective Two
The Covenant's answer to rising food costs
The Siegemother

Mercy | Naniti ​

At first, Lysander’s gaze tracked the viewports. Weeks, perhaps longer, of preparation were finally falling into motion, like teeth beginning to close. He’d spent time on Pelagon, coming to better understand its trade routes; N’Zoth followed, where he listened, allowing the Tapani Sector to speak in its own language.. one far different from anywhere he’d visited in the Outer Rim. And luckily, Thrantin had been the equalizer.. a place to sharpen himself in ways that cared little for politics.

Of course, even before setting foot on the Sith Lord’s warship, he’d found himself anticipating one specific presence. They’d moved together more often than not.. planet to planet, different skies overhead. Enough that, beyond Desevro, being near her had started to feel less like coincidence and more like something he’d come to expect.. and, over time, look forward to.

Those weeks apart hadn’t looked too daunting whenever he caught himself checking his datapad. Training filled most days, preparation absorbed the rest.. discipline doing exactly what it was meant to do, no? Or so he told himself. The Sith apprentice understood there was a fine line between staying busy and actually being productive, and he may have been guilty of spending a little too much time on one side of it.

Naturally, Naniti registered the moment she stepped into view, a flash of violet that drew his eyes without asking permission. Almost unfair. His youthful expression was composed, though there were a few cracks that told a different story. Strange, almost, to feel that way on the eve of bloodshed.. especially with one world, or more, standing on the brink of being picked clean.

Soon after, they found themselves before Mercy. When the summons came, he met it without hesitation; Lysander knew better than that. And besides, this Sith Lord was the reason Brosi goods were about to start flowing through Nar Shaddaa. Without her in the chain, it would be impossible. Their first meeting had ended in violence. But then, maybe that was all part of the test in some ways. Some lessons didn't dull with time. The Iktochi who tried taking advantage of his younger sister, Fatine, nor the kitchen’s boning knife that flayed him after.. ensuring that such predatory behavior would never surface again.

From the family's executioner, to the family's butcher. A moment darker than most, a memory that refused to fade.

When Mercy spoke, a fist came against the sternum out of habit, followed by a small inclination of his head.

“I’ve been well,” said easily. “Staying active, as always.” Shoulders shifted as he answered. “Laying low on Thrantin in between whatever Arris and the others decide I’m useful for. I take it you've had your hands full. No surprises so far?"

Something like amusement flickered at the corner of his mouth. “I've also been putting Acier Moonbound to use as a punching bag while I'm there.”

Far from the truth, and he was certain Mercy would see through it. But.. when it came to training partners, a free jab here and there was to be expected, right?

And.. that levity served another purpose. He knew how certain gatherings were uncommon for Naniti, though he wasn’t sure how the presence of higher ranking Sith within the Covenant might sit with her. Even so, it was a modest attempt to remove some edge off the room.

Lysander didn’t miss the smirk either. One that might've asked for a reply.

His attention brushed the Togruta.

“This is Naniti. She's here at my discretion."

As those words left, his attention shifted back.

“I value her judgment.. especially when things are about to get loud. Things tend to go more smoothly when she’s nearby.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked like a statue in his armor. Wearing his helm more often these days it feels it’s almost become a part of him, eating only in privacy. The red glare of his visor seemed to pierce into people as if he were looking into and through them. Arris gave her orders and stopped at Varin while he ran his gloved thumb over his bone rosary beads. A habit he had maintained since before Brosi. And the length had now wrapped around his forearm. Whether each bead was a mission success or a kill count is unknown. He would add another whenever Bogan declared he earned it. That was enough for him.

His gaze slowly looked up at Arris in silence and he gave her a slow nod of confirmation. The large young man pocketed his rosary, Neriah spoke of mission details and it rolled off Varin’s back. Not questions that were directed to him, as he gathered some of his things. Then he stopped when Acier spoke. His head slowly turned to him.

He walked up to him, nonthreatening and stood in front of him.

“Would you rather mercy kill the child or let them suffer to the elements?”

Varin’s question was very direct. Personally he did not like the idea of targeting children especially if they were not Jedi. But to him it would be worse to have them carry on without a guardian to protect them. This was a lesson he learned the hard way.

He knelt in front of Acier, the armor scraping and tapping as he slowly knelt. He spoke quietly to him, not in a hidden tone but an understanding one. Varin was brutal and savage on the battlefield but contrary to popular belief he was not heartless. Another lesson his mother and father passed down to him.

“I understand the difficulty here, Acier. This is what we do. This is how we expand. Leave any alive and they could come back with a higher force eventually. As someone who has survived a purge, The anger and the fury they have for vengeance.”

His hand clenched tightly in his glove making it creak as heat began to wave off his back.

“It can be unparalleled. I would watch every banner, every home, every living being burn for what was taken from me.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’re now in that boat. Simply being in this squadron with us, anyone who survives will scorn you, target you. And only death will stop them. Not only is it a mercy to them, it’s a mercy to you.”

He slowly stood up as he placed the puck into his belt.

“Remember that, acolytes.”

He looked at both Neriah and Acier before he stood up and walked towards the drop ramp of the ship ready to move when the ship landed.

Arris Windrun | Neriah Calven | Acier Moonbound​

 

[Arris Windrun]

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY
Tags: Acier Moonbound | Neriah Calven | Varin Mortifer

Varin spoke first, and at length. He relied on rationalization and thoughtful points, even if it was a whole heap of self-gaslighting as far as she could tell. The Covenant didn't need to be doing this at all. The dilemma was an illusion brought on by a choice, not unavoidable circumstances. Though he did have one point she agreed with. Survivors would haunt them more than the dead.

When the seasoned apprentice finished speaking, Arris added her two credits. Her eyes cast straight at Acier.

"You're thinking too much." She paused, some time for what she said to cut. "If you're trying to sort them, you're thinking too much."

Of course, Arris had thought about it. The moment Acier mentioned 'children' raised that unavoidable question in her mind. Better not to consider it at all, she decided.

The dropship touched down, and the loading ramp dropped to the duracrete. Arris pushed her way to the back, intent on being the first one out the gate. She grabbed Neriah's arm with one hand, pulling her out of the seat, forcing her to carry the momentum on her feet. With her other hand, she tapped Acier's shoulder.

Varin didn't need prodding.

No one had expected them to arrive. The unmarked ship had bypassed security completely, thanks to credentials provided by their benefactor to let them come and go discreetly. The celebration was quite underway, with dozens - maybe hundreds - of people. The noble house, esteemed guests, and their servants and staff.

A young man stopped, mid-laugh, mid-celebration, a wide smile on his face. He was probably only a year older than Acier and Neriah, if at all. His smile began to fade in the split second it took for him to render Arris's revolver. Then, he dropped dead. Smoke trailed from the tip of her barrel.

She looked over her shoulder. "Get going." An order.

The crowd didn't realize what had already begun, with fireworks and cheers muting their initial chaos.

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer

Great. Stuck with a bleeding heart and...whatever Varin was meant to be. And people would still think they're better than Neriah. Just karkin' great. Because they were bigger than her. Stronger than her. But unlike those two, she didn't need any justification on doing this. Even if there were...kids here, she had been one when she was kidnapped. She would rather have died than be in this state. Vengeance this, mercy that. None of it had any purpose except to justify things to yourself. Either way she prepared to get up as soon as the shuttle landed...only for Arris to grab onto her and practically throw her forward, with the Acolyte responding by attempting to slap the hand away.

"...You know I can walk myself."

Even Arris was assuming things about her now. Neriah had thought she had actually started to be seen as something more than the mongrel of the group. The runt. Clearly not. A small apathetic sigh escaped her lips as she carried on anyway. Even as the young man dropped down to the ground, landing harder than a sack of potatoes, Neriah stepped onto and then over his corpse, carrying onwards. Sure, she might as well not even be here herself. Nothing she said had been listened to. Acknowledged.

Her gaze flicked towards one of the guests, who's own gaze was flickering between Neriah, the other Acolytes, Arris and the corpse on the ground. Before a word could get however, Neriah threw her hand up towards the woman, using the Force to grasp onto their neck. Now, one might have expected her to choke the woman, to get her frustrations out on the poor guest. But alas, no. She simply twisted her wrist, resulting in a quick snap before she threw the body off the side. Neriah had given up on caring about what her dead master would have thought about what she was doing. It wasn't as if she was putting any thought towards it. She didn't have physical strength. Emotional strength. All she had was the Force. And damn, was she good with it. She didn't care about the killing. It was just what she had to do.

Anything for her own survival.

​

 

[Vestra Tane]

TAPANI SECTOR
ABOARD THE LAST LAUGH
OBJECTIVE 2

The mood was grim.

This was unusual. Despite the dirty business its boss was known for (killing, looting, hunting sith artifacts), most crewmen of The Last Laugh had the requisite, delicate mix of mild sociopathic tendencies and prosocial behavior to both find the work enjoyable and maintain group cohesion. It was the same mix you needed for all organized crime. This, alongside a healthy ability to dissociate, lead to a fairly jovial culture among the sorts of people who worked for one Vestra Tane.

But lately the boss had been in a foul mood, and that meant everyone else was in a foul mood, too. The ship's quartermaster, much beloved by the rest of the crew for the fairness with which she divvied up loot, had needed to spend the bulk of her latest share on a new jaw after a snide remark that the Captain would normally have taken in stride. It was impossible for the crew to ever determine what, exactly, was wrong with her; but they all knew the solution.

A little bloodbath, and the boss would be back to her normal self.

​

TAPANI SECTOR
ATTACHED TO THE HULL OF A TAPANI TRADE VESSEL
OBJECTIVE 2
Equipment: The Hex Grip | Ashin's Glove | Lightsaber | Lightfoil | Rebreather | Armorweave Coat | Disruptor Pistol
Tags: Jas Katis (Opposition)

Boarding Torpedoes were, as far as Vestra was concerned, one of the Galaxy's greatest achievements. There was no better way to get onto an enemy ship than flinging yourself towards it at an appreciable percentage of the speed of light.

She sat, cross-legged, while outside plasma cutters rotated along the lip of the boarding pod, cutting slowly but surely through the inches of durasteel that separated her from what was going to be an exceptional bloodbath.

Slowly, she looked up from the focus of her "meditation" - a small, golden coin, levitating at chest level, through which arcs of blue-white lightning coursed, leaving rivers of molten metal to drip, drip, drip onto the floor of the cramped tube. Then she snatched it out of the air with her organic hand, and stuffed it into the pocket of her coat.

Outside, there was a thud.

She stood, and dusted her coat off, and turned towards the pod doors. She took a deep breath, held it for a few moments...

The doors opened. Someone raised a rifle.

"Hands in the ai-"

Vestra screamed, and her voice burst eardrums and cracked glass.

She stepped out, over the writhing bodies of the ship's security forces, and closed her eyes. Hunting, through the Force.

Hopefully there was someone here worth a fight.

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Calipsa - Calipsa Estate

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

OBJECTIVE 1 - LIFE DAY​

Ace's jaw tightened at Varin's warped attempt at a pep talk. Stars, he knew they were Sith but what was wrong with them? He didn't bother arguing with Varin.

Not because he agreed, not in the slightest. He knew better than to debate survival with someone who believed it only counted if it ended cleanly. Varin spoke like someone who thought suffering inevitably curved toward vengeance. Like survival without guardianship was a cruelty worse than death.

Ace knew that wasn't true. He had survived with nothing. No protection. No certainty. No one deciding outcomes on his behalf. It had been hard, grinding, ugly, lonely. But at the end of it all, he was still here. Scarred, yes. Changed, yes. But alive. Thinking. Choosing. Survival didn't guarantee righteousness. But it didn't damn you either.

"Whatever you say." Ace said quietly.

Restraint, he made the conscious decision not to say the part out loud. Not to explain that he stood here precisely because no one had decided his life wasn't worth the risk. That calling this mercy felt like theft disguised as kindness. That was a truth he couldn't afford to expose.

Then Arris commented, and Ace's eyes flicked to the cyborg. Something sharp flicked behind them, irritation stripped clean of fear. He didn't raise his voice but when he spoke, it was fast enough to land before he could stop himself.

"So you'd rather I be a brain-dead yes man?" He shot back.

The dropship hit the ground with a heavy shudder, ending the moment before it could grow teeth. The ramp slammed down, light and sound rushing in. Arris shoved Neriah up by the arm, then tapped Ace's shoulder once. A command. Varin was already moving, and they all spilled out into celebration.

Music. Fireworks. Laughter tore the sky open in brilliant colors, masking the first notes of confusion. A young man turned mid-laugh and Arris blasted him. Just like that. The smile died with the sound. Smoke curled from her barrel as the body hit the ground.

After Arris's order, Ace moved. He didn't look back at the body. Refused to let himself think about who the man was, or whether he'd had anyone waiting for him tomorrow.

That was thinking too much. And if Ace let himself think about what this night demanded of him, he knew exactly where it would lead. The first scream finally broke through the fireworks and a ripple of uncertainty passed through the crowd, too slow to organize itself into panic.

A guard rushed them, half-drawn weapon shaking in his hands. Ace ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade snapped to life, and he intercepted the man's swing on instinct alone. The guard fell.

Guilt spiked, something hot and human that made his stomach twist. He shoved it down hard and advanced again. Every strike felt heavier than the last. Each life taken landed somewhere behind his sternum, stacking up instead of emptying out. This wasn't combat. There was no rhythm to hide in, no mutual intent to dull the edge. Just people running, slipping, screaming as the celebration tore itself apart.

Ace kept his face still. If he let himself feel, he would stop. If he stopped, someone would notice.

Arris Windrun | Varin Mortifer | Neriah Calven​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

OBJECTIVE 1

THEME​

Varin let Arris’ words bounce in his head, he did not acknowledge. The spat between Acier and Arris came and went, he stepped out of the ship, saber still on his belt, mace still holstered. He looked around the chaos that churned, the maelstrom of screaming bodies, the chaos.

He had a mission. And he would complete it, as he always did.

This was what he was made for.

A weapon.

A being of violence and fury.

He stepped forward in front of the group.

His heart beat steady, then elevated, then elevated. He was silent. Deep breaths. The sea of people ahead of the group was blocking his way, the smoke tendrils snaked off his body and coalesced into a superheated cloud. Like a river of death it flowed over the crowd and around him as he stepped. Screams silencing as they ran through the smoke.

Bodies fell and he stepped over them.

He had cleared a path for Him.

His heart elevated again.

Drop it, boy. Give me control.

The voice, like grinding tectonic plates crashed in his mind, his breathing became harsh.

A primal yell erupted from his throat as flames erupted from his back, his voice distorted, the flames wrapped around his body, the heat rose, the concrete beneath him melted.

His words echoed in his mind as bodies burned.

This is what we do

An animalistic growl ripped from his throat as his mouth piece opened on his helm, another roar erupted from him as a blast of lightning shot from his mouth and straight into the crowd of people.

The wrapped flames flexed, and shaped into a resemblance of wings made of bone. His raspy breaths were deep as his helm closed again. The bodies around him already stacking.

His target was next as he made his way towards what looked to be a palace entrance of some sort, a ways to go, streets to climb, walls to sunder, gates to rip apart.

He was not done.

Just as he thought before, he was not heartless.

but he was a monster.

Arris Windrun | Acier Moonbound | Neriah Calven​

 

[Arris Windrun]

OBJECTIVE ONE
Tags: Acier Moonbound | Neriah Calven | Varin Mortifer

Arris snorted at Acier's snapback. "For now, yeah." Her tone said it was common sense.

She didn't respond to Neriah's complaint, just tossed her a glance that said nothing at all. The violence was well underway. She saw the once Padawan snap a woman's neck in an instant. Cold and effective. She nodded with approval, whether or not Neriah noticed.

For Arris, it wasn't about pleasure, though she did experience a thrill from violence... it was more like she was still training them. Monitoring their progress and making sure they did the right things at the right time to avoid screwing up or dying. Acier moved in her periphery; she turned to see him, watched as he struck down a guard with his lightsaber.

The crowd began to move now. Screams replaced revelry, and the explosions of fireworks were replaced by those of bombs and firearms. A pair of Covenant gunships swarmed the air overhead, firing their laser cannons indiscriminately. They were also insurance to hunt down any ships attempting to leave the area.

Varin seemed to rely on rage and power to see the day. That was good, it meant she needn't focus on him, and could devote her attention to the two former Jedi in their company. She also felt correct in assigning him the most important task of all. Even if the target was nothing but a weak, old man. The Talusian imagined how pleased Mercy would be to learn of his death.

"Who needs battle tanks?" she mused at the apprentice's advance.

That would be among the last lucid thoughts she had, as stimulants flushed into her bloodstream. The cyborg began to move faster, killing relentlessly. Her co-processor made short, effective work - finding targets and feeding near-instant data to her arms. Match. Kill. Match. Kill. It was easy. She had to pause to reload.

But as the crowd dispersed, as bodies sprawled ingloriously across duracrete, their massacre became a hunt. Most of the wealthy fled back into the palace. Likely to find safety in a panic room, or maybe secret escape routes. She wasn't really sure how people like this thought about their own survival. Maybe they never anticipated a day like this would ever arrive? Arris didn't know.

"Neriah - Ace," she called out. "You two are together. Find a way inside and try to flank with Fire Boy... Seems he's going for the main entrance.

"Obvious idiot," she said, oddly affectionate.

 

[Jas Katis]

TAPANI | TRADE FLEET
CORPORATE FEDERATION | HELLION PRIVATE MILITARY GROUP
TAGS: Vestra Tane | Nyles Kote | Tibera Jessen
ENGAGING: Vestra Tane
GEAR: In bio | unit equipment

THEME​

It had been a while since the Hellions worked an escort mission. A few of the men had described it as “a nice change of pace” after multiple intense battles in the last few years. But all of them knew that it didn’t mitigate the risks or danger they were going to be faced with in the very near future.

The Federation had landed a decent deal with the Tapani nobles, offering protection and bolstered resistance against the invading Sith forces in exchange for pretty much unrestricted access to Tapani and its wealth. Free trade and a chance to establish a solid foothold on such a prestigious planet. But first they had to do their job.

Strill Securities and the Hellion Private Military had built a fantastic dynamic over the past few years, turning sworn enemies into strong allies and fast friends. Their joint operation against the Imperial Fleet over Mon Cala was nothing short of devastating, and now their respective fleets were banded together once more to achieve victory against their old enemy.

Several Hellion cruisers and corvettes flew alongside the fleeing merchant fleet, while marines were posted throughout several vessels to repel any potential boarding parties. Jas had no doubt that the Tapani soldiers would fight with ferocity to protect their people, but situations such as these were what the two private forces specialized in.

The Pureblood walked through the halls to inspect the troops and chokepoints, he could feel his former bretheren drawing closer. Anticipation, fear and rage swelled around him, both inside the ships as well as the void beyond. An addictive sensation for anyone who harnessed the Dark Side, it made the Pureblood’s blood boil with excitement for the incoming attack. He kept his presence in the Force hidden, however, not wanting their enemy to learn of his existence.

Coming to a halt by a viewport, Jas watched as the battle began to unfold. From a distance, he could see boarding pods on a direct collision course with the Tapani cruiser he was on. :: Strill, this is Retail. Contact has been made. Boarding pods incoming. :: He hailed their ally. The ships weren’t a concern for him right now, their fleets knew how to work together. He trusted Nyles and his forces. :: Hellions, this is Katis. Red alert, to your positions. Pods incoming. :: Came the next report, immediately followed by confirmation and claxons as the troops prepared for battle.

The boarding pods impacted the ship’s hull and the enemy made itself known in spectacular fashion, as a piercing scream incapacitated several of the Tapani troopers. The Hellions waited at their positions for the enemy troops to emerge from their pods before opening up with a deadly volley of blaster fire.

More than a dozen rifles, as well as two repeaters, filled the hall with plasma with precise and concentrated volume. Their enemy was going to pay dearly for every step they took onboard.

:: Get ready to move! :: Jas called out to his troops, shifting position from a doorway to duck behind a deployed barricade, before tossing a flashbang into the chaos.