Lord Baricon Zolfran
Character
The skyline of Dorbim, G-Prime burned gold and violet beneath the stormlights, lightning veins crawling across the heavens like cracks in a dying god's mirror. From the top floor of Rubicon Tower, Lord Baricon Zulfran stood before the expanse — the architect of the city's glow, the master of every steel beam and breath of clean air beneath it. Inside, the boardroom shimmered with sleek black glass and the cold hum of power; hovering data screens mapped trade flows, troop routes, and encrypted Force signatures. The low-frequency vibration thrumming through the floor was deliberate — tuned to keep every subordinate's heartbeat in rhythm with his own.
Baricon looked every inch the sovereign industrialist: dark jacket trimmed in metallic thread, gloves gleaming as they turned a datapad between elegant fingers, silver hair slicked back from a face that wore confidence like armor. His reflection in the glass smirked back at him — a reminder that even his image obeyed.
"The Empress of Shadows loses her tether to the abyss," he murmured, voice smooth and intimate as a whisper through silk. A faint chuckle followed. "And still, the galaxy trembles at her name." The holographic table flickered, projecting the unstable readings of Zori Galea. Around him, his officers shifted uneasily.
"Find her," Baricon ordered softly. "I don't care if she's buried in the sandstorms of Korriban or hiding in the belly of a spice freighter. Power like hers doesn't vanish… it relocates."
One of the officers dared to speak. "My lord, intelligence from the Outer Sectors confirms the Signa-Ki facility has fallen. The Mile-Star command—"
"Linn Dobson," Baricon interrupted, lips curling in satisfaction. He savored the name like fine liquor. "A perfectionist. Proud. Predictable. She built her empire on order… and forgot that order breaks the loudest when it falls." He turned toward the window, lightning reflecting off the glass as though the storm itself bowed before him. "Oh, Linn," he murmured, almost fondly. "You were never meant to command. You were meant to prove a point."
His expression hardened as he faced the table again. "Assemble a covert crew. My own. The best. I want them dispatched to the wreckage of Signa-Ki. Every fragment, every data core, every implant still warm in the ash — retrieve it. Someone orchestrated this collapse, and I intend to meet them."
"If there are survivors?" another officer asked.
Baricon smiled, the gesture easy and merciless. "Then remind them who owns the air they breathe."
He zoomed in on Zori's fading signal — the flickering coordinates dancing like a dying heartbeat. "Zori Galea, untethered from her dark muse," he said, voice low with interest. "How poetic. Perhaps now, without the shadow whispering in her ear, she might be… reasonable." A pause, a smirk. "Or vulnerable."
The lights dimmed as he raised a crystalline glass filled with a dark metallic liquid, its surface reflecting the lightning outside. "Empires collapse. Queens lose their gods. Commanders fail." He lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the silence that followed. "And yet… I remain."
Outside, lightning carved his silhouette across the skyline — a solitary figure standing over a galaxy he intended to balance by his own will alone.
Baricon looked every inch the sovereign industrialist: dark jacket trimmed in metallic thread, gloves gleaming as they turned a datapad between elegant fingers, silver hair slicked back from a face that wore confidence like armor. His reflection in the glass smirked back at him — a reminder that even his image obeyed.
"The Empress of Shadows loses her tether to the abyss," he murmured, voice smooth and intimate as a whisper through silk. A faint chuckle followed. "And still, the galaxy trembles at her name." The holographic table flickered, projecting the unstable readings of Zori Galea. Around him, his officers shifted uneasily.
"Find her," Baricon ordered softly. "I don't care if she's buried in the sandstorms of Korriban or hiding in the belly of a spice freighter. Power like hers doesn't vanish… it relocates."
One of the officers dared to speak. "My lord, intelligence from the Outer Sectors confirms the Signa-Ki facility has fallen. The Mile-Star command—"
"Linn Dobson," Baricon interrupted, lips curling in satisfaction. He savored the name like fine liquor. "A perfectionist. Proud. Predictable. She built her empire on order… and forgot that order breaks the loudest when it falls." He turned toward the window, lightning reflecting off the glass as though the storm itself bowed before him. "Oh, Linn," he murmured, almost fondly. "You were never meant to command. You were meant to prove a point."
His expression hardened as he faced the table again. "Assemble a covert crew. My own. The best. I want them dispatched to the wreckage of Signa-Ki. Every fragment, every data core, every implant still warm in the ash — retrieve it. Someone orchestrated this collapse, and I intend to meet them."
"If there are survivors?" another officer asked.
Baricon smiled, the gesture easy and merciless. "Then remind them who owns the air they breathe."
He zoomed in on Zori's fading signal — the flickering coordinates dancing like a dying heartbeat. "Zori Galea, untethered from her dark muse," he said, voice low with interest. "How poetic. Perhaps now, without the shadow whispering in her ear, she might be… reasonable." A pause, a smirk. "Or vulnerable."
The lights dimmed as he raised a crystalline glass filled with a dark metallic liquid, its surface reflecting the lightning outside. "Empires collapse. Queens lose their gods. Commanders fail." He lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the silence that followed. "And yet… I remain."
Outside, lightning carved his silhouette across the skyline — a solitary figure standing over a galaxy he intended to balance by his own will alone.