Dominion The Smog │ SE Dominion of Chandaar

[Aspect of Passion]

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Chandaar
Cronese Mandate
865ABY

The Graug war machine marches forward after its conquest of Ossus - bent on subjugating more worlds, more land for their teeming masses, backed by the will of the Sith'ari. Hoping to form an autonomous buffer zone with the Bryn'adul, the Graug and the newly crowned Fist of the Emperor Darth Vulcanus were charged the conquering the remants of the Silver Jedi Forces still left upon the worlds - but it is not without backlash.​

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Chandaar is one of the only truly industrialized worlds free for the taking near Korriban, and with the ailing Eternal economy yet to build momentum - it has been a topic of hot contention between the various Lords of the Sith. While Vulcanus has deemed it all rightful Graug clay, warriors such as Darth Empyrean and Tithon Antilles argue for a portion of its factories to temporarily be turned towards the rearmament of the Sith war machine after it had sustained heavy losses - others hoping to keep reservations free of Graug influence, to ensure that the larger cities remain unmolested by the barbarous species.​

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Meanwhile, Silver Jedi have used the heavy pollution and smog to shroud their tracks - many left in the zone choosing to stay under the guidance of Wyatt Morga after being cut off from the rest of the Coalition. Now, faced with the growing influence of the Graug they are looking to plant bombs in key factory districts; hoping to fully disable the factories before they can be turned against the Core; let alone the Jedi.​

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Objective I: A Factory Too Far​

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Tasked with investigating the Factory district, Frumentarii agents have tasked you and your group with searching the currently overwhelmed refugee district housing multiple armament facilities. All of them have been searched after the rumor came to them of an anti-imperial bomb-maker being in the city, but with the influx of refugees from Graug occupation, finding them has proven difficult. Comb the factories, find the Jedi before they plant the charges, or search the refugee camps for the supposed bomb maker themselves.​

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Objective II: Development Exclusion Zones​

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Some of the greatest names in the Sith Eternal have found themselves high in a skyscraper whose windows carried on them a thick viscous green substance. Sat around a minimalist metal table, members of the Dark Council along with various influential land holders collectively debate factory rights upon the planet. While none yet have proposed a challenge to the Graug rule, they are however demanding temporary access to the facilities - to recover the loss of equipment after the pyrrhic assault on Silver Jedi holdings in the area. Join them, speak your peace, and gain the influence you require to arm your own power base.​

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Objective III: The Silver Lining​

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With the rise of the resistance, still just a pocket of jedi led by the Ex-Grandmaster Wyatt Morga, the Sith Eternal must quickly staunch their influence wherever it chooses to leak. Now, a pro-Jedi noble has been discovered paying for smugglers to ferry Force Sensitives and Jedi back to the Coalition space. Highly dangerous to fly through Bryn'adul territory, the smugglers are highly trained, and there is even a rumor that a retinue of elite guard stay in the compound should the Sith wisen to the nobles tactics. In truth, they already have; and you aboard a transport to squash their largest port of access from the planet.​

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Objective IV: BYOO​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Objective II

Seated near the head of the table, Maliphant cleared his throat as a nearby serving droid filled his glass with water. He offered it no acknowledgement, and simply took a drink without its notice. Others would soon fill into the room, and with the most economic sensibilities of any Sith in the Eternal thus far - he had to make sure they understood the gravity of the situation. No doubt they'd all make a petty squable over the local repulsor factory or microfusion cell production line.​

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No, Maliphant knew that many of the facilities needed to be nationalized - and not under Vulcanus and his graug, but under the high tech sensibility of Jaeger. AI to rule the efficiency, planned production values per month - with the right sensibility, they could even invest enough to stop this terrible pollution from overwhelming the localized cities.​

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And then there was the question of the refugees. No doubt Vulcanus would prefer them turned into literal chattel cattle; but Maliphant knew they'd serve the Empire through work programs. Reeducation facilities, something to use their skills for the good of the Eternal - not his fantasy ideas of making warlord with flame and brimstone wherever he sat. He could almost scoff out loud, were it not for the fact it would be certainly an insult.​

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And he wasn't truly sure he wanted to fight the Sith Lord - at least not yet.​

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Objective I

Wyatt's beard had grown susbtantially, peeking its way out from his hood as refugees walked by. For now, he looked no different then them - one of the unwashed masses, unnoticable in the grand scheme of things; but unlike them, he was a Jedi. A lightsaber on his hilt, pride in his heart... He only wished he could be more open about it.​

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But with the reality setting in that the Jedi Order no longer needed him, and his efforts better spent fighting where he was needed - he had realized that his place was not in clean robes and fancy temples; but among the dredges of society. With dirt on their faces, they could see how the common man faced the Sith - not from their high castle, looking down upon these masses with a philosophical scrutiny.​

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It was a lesson he hoped to pass on to the padawans and knights of the Jedi Order; but the time for such had passed. Now, he only waited, for the rest of his resistance team to meet him to do what needed to be done - not what should be considered for lessons and the next generation. If they didn't stop this 'Worm Emperor', Wyatt knew there may not be another generation.​

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And so, as the people passed, his blue eyes glanced about looking for those few familiar faces.​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Objective 1
Wyatt Morga , R3-D1


Were he able, Cedric would have called down the legions of Ession to deliver Chandaar from the hands of the Sith. They had mustered enough to make up the numbers required, but the logistics of the situation were simply untenable. There was no world within distance to host an invasion force, and maintaining the independence of Chandaar afterword would prove impossible given their current resources. That was assuming they could even find victory in the first place.

As things were, all Cedric could provide were a few fireteams to assist with resistance efforts, equipment that had been deemed irrelevant to the coming war effort, and his own two hands.

"Erënnert mech un heem." He muttered in his native tongue to the three men accompanying him. He received a few grunts of affirmation in response. Freeing Chandaar today would be impossible, but they could certainly sabotage the Sith Eternal's war efforts.

All of the men were dressed in the garmnets of the lower class, with bits of rag-sewn clothing thrown in to sell the illusion of poverty. The only thing that marked them as anything more than factory workers was the droid rolling alone at Cedric's side. "Welcome to Chandaar Ar-three." The exile muttered in basic as he felt Wyatt's familiar presence in the empyrean nearby. A quick glance about revealed Cedric's old friend, though the Essonians made a point of meandering about far enough away so as not to seem interested. Two of the men moved to eavesdrop near a hunk trader's stand, whilst the third found a position in one of the alleyways to better watch for patrols. It was only then that Cedric strode up alongside Wyatt, his gaze barely discernable through the hem of his cowl.

"Got your message," the exile offered a grim smile, "R3 and I figured we could lend a hand."

 

[R3-D1]

Location: General vicinity of Cedric Grayson , Chandaar.
Objective I
Relevant Tags: Cedric Grayson , Wyatt Morga

At a sedated pace, the ever-steadfast astromech - R3-D1 - trailed after its master. Its head twirled about on a swivel, suspicious but having enough sense not to voice as much until such a time they found respite. Perhaps it was in spending so much time in the presence of Grayson, but R3 had adopted as much paranoia a droid could have regarding anyone or anything they dealt with.

It was as much a natural paranoia as it was a necessary survival method, or so R3's logic processors justified it.

When Grayson came to a stop, so too did R3 at a few long strides behind. Its head paused on Wyatt Morga for perhaps a moment before continuing to scan the alleyway, its sensors taking in the grim and filthy decor with all the tenacity of a Coruscanti bureaucrat. R3 held no illusions that it would be capable of fending off any notable threats to Grayson, or his companion, but at the very least, the diminutive droid could make quite the racket to draw attention.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Objective III​

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Chandaar was all too reminiscent of the dreams he'd succumbed to during his ventures into the Netherworld, as he'd scaled to the top of the Spire of Destiny and looked upon a past both familiar and wrong. It was one of the few recollections he'd had of Ession, a home lost to the fragile annuls of his memory, before returning there during his self-imposed exile. His first stop after leaving Coruscant, yet even with both feet upon the world it had felt foreign to him. Another life, perhaps, long before the Sith had come.​

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What happened to him then was happening here now. It was the Graug this time that swallowed up the populace, not Imperial Soliders, but it didn't matter. The effects would be the same.​

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Some might argue worse.​

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The boy would not have it said that he took any part in that war machine. As much as they were a crucial arm in their efforts to get off the ground, the Graug were not a thing he could stomach being around, in many ways he despised their very existence. They were a blatant reminder of all that was wrong with corruption. But this was not his decision to make, he was a lowly Acolyte. And he had his orders.​

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Once more he found himself on a shuttle bound toward a traitor. On Ossus he had helped their enemy escape, mere children were all he had seen but he had been blind to the greater picture. They were children set upon a destiny they had no say in, and he'd simply rewarded the Jedi for taking and manipulating them at such a young age. It could not happen again.​

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Since his return from such a low point he'd been fighting to re-earn the trust of his betters. Mostly his Master, in truth, he did not rightly care about the rest though he would not utter such aloud. He was not here for the rest, he did not attend the Academy for the rest. They were insignificant in his personal plans.​

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Though they were not younglings this time, he was hoping he could wash away the wrongs of his past with this act. Keep more fuel from the Jedi masses. Allow those Force Sensitives they were hoping to smuggle away a chance at choosing their own fates.​

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After all, wasn't that what he'd wanted? A choice.​

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It would not be long before they reached the port; in the meantime he drew upon the Force and allowed himself a little time to breathe, to mentally prepare for the fight ahead...​

 

[Syala Daivik]

Objective I
Wyatt Morga | Cedric Grayson | R3-D1

Much as on Ossus, Syala once again donned clothes more suited for the huddled masses that walked the streets, yet more refugees displaced by the Sith. It wore on her seeing the same sad scenes on world after world, but she managed to persevere, spurred onwards with the knowledge that they were helping those who needed it most directly. Just as on Ossus their numbers were few, but that had been proven time and again to mean little and less. They had rescued those in need then, and Force willing would achieve the same now.

The weight of her lightsaber hidden away on her person provided some sort of assurance, but the presence of her allies nearby did so more than that. Although her presence in the Force was subdued by her own hand, she was still able to sense the familiar presence of the man that had saved her and the younglings from troopers who would have sooner seen them turned to the Sith. Despite the circumstances a brief smile crossed her face, and for just a moment she reached out in return to quietly let him know she was here.

Carefully she meandered through the crowds, keeping her head down to avoid the scrutiny of any patrols, copper hair shielding her face like a curtain. She made certain to join the duo in their line of sight, falling into step on the other side of Wyatt. "It's nice to see you again." Her gaze shifted to Cedric, and she offered a gentle smile. "I'm Syala."

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Objective III: The Silver Lining
Tags: Ugh fine I RP with the ginger Arcturus Dinn

Already on the planet just outside the compound, Ishani held her arm out to the side, a snow owl perched on her wrist. “Okay Neppy,” she said to the animal (whose full name was Nephthys). “Go find ‘em, yeah?”

The owl turned its head and winked its eyes in that odd, slightly creepy way that owls do, then took flight. It quickly disappeared from view amid the smog, though she had blessed its lungs and eyes to guard against the pollution beforehand.

She waited a few moments before closing her eyes and focusing with the Force. The connection between her and the animal allowed her to see through its eyes. Guards… those must’ve been the elite units mentioned in the debriefing. About six of them were visible around the entrance, hm. Any people around?... No, they were all inside. Well, that made sense. They’d have to fight their way inside, and probably deal with Jedi who would defend themselves and the other Force sensitives with their lives… Great.

Ishani had yet to kill any Jedi. She took solace in the fact that they were taught not to strike first, but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to a fight against another Force User that could be equally or as strong as she was. She’d have Arcturus and a few others there to back her up, but still. First time jitters.

Nephthys returned, showing off as he arced over her head before alighting on her arm. “You’re really gaming for those treats, aren’t you?” she asked him. “You smell gross. But at least you’re breathing all right.”

She fed him a mouse she had caught elsewhere in the grimy city. He swallowed it whole, bobbing his head to help with getting it all down.

“Remind me never to let you anywhere near Nostremous.”

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Objective I

Wyatt, in his less than presentable state, offered Cedric a smile as he moved to sit near him. He knew it was dangerous to be seen together - especially with Sith Prefects already combing the refugee masses. They were hunting for the Jedi known in the Resistance, and Wyatt was no doubt on their hit list after Ossus; no way he could have fallen under the radar saving those children from the First Legion. Still, even with that concern near the forefront of his mind - Wyatt let it slide away as the corners of his lips upturned.​

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"It's good to see you again, Cedric."​

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It was paltry, after they both failed the Order they had built, but it was enough for the moment. They could go over past wrongs, political discussions, and whatever else at a more opportune time - when they weren't surrounded by throngs of zealots. A nod to Syala Daivik and he would begin - the time for pleasantries running slim for them all.​

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He sighed as he leaned forward, putting his weight on his knees as he spoke, now looking at a distant shape on the horizon, just barely peeking through the other buildings on the urban scape.​

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"Complex Helfax Three. Built after the Sith had come to Chandaar under Darth Carnifex 's orders, one of the largest and most up to date foundries on the planet. Could easily churn out thousands of guns a day, and if it gets the resources it needs -", he said with a bit of a purse to his lips.​

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"- Well, I don't think I need to explain to you the consequences of well armed Sith."​

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"Plan is, we hit three support structures in the center of the facility - directly over the inlet for tibanna. It should devastate the superstructure of the building, collapse it, and put their quotas out of wack for at least a few months, if not a few years."​

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"Got the equipment from a local we can trust. Got any questions?"​

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Cedric Grayson │ R3-D1​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Objective 1
Tags: Wyatt Morga , R3-D1 , Syala Daivik

How long had it been since he'd seen Wyatt? Perhaps a year, maybe more. The passage of time had become something of a distant concept during his vow. The last time he'd seen his old friend had been before his exile, though things were no different now than they were then. They had a job to do: catching up would have to wait.

"You too," he offered a faint smile, and turned his gaze toward Wyatt's companion. "A pleasure Syala," he'd bow his head slightly. "I'm Cedric, this is R4," he gestured toward the droid. "These three are Fritz, Bronwyn, and Tals." He'd point to each man after the other, though in their artificial grime and heavy cowls it was difficult to make out discerning features between the three of them.

He'd pause to listen to Wyatt's plan. It was the standard sort of work they'd undertaken during their days in the Rebel Alliance: high risk, high reward. Cedric had only one question for his old friend. "We'll have to make sure the workers evacuate before we blow the place," his brow furrowed. "Do you have schematics for the factory? I suppose we could just look for an alarm if not."

One of the men, Fritz, raised a hand. "Can take care of that. Better at blending in than these big lugs," he muttered in heavily accented basic, then gestured toward his two cohorts.

"As long as you're confident you won't be noticed, sure." Cedric offered a shrug, He'd turn his attentions back to the group. "We hitting it now?"

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

He couldn't help but feel a little... antsy.​

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She was supposed to be here, with him, on this very shuttle. She'd been given the exact same assignment as he and the others who made their way toward the port. And yet Ishani Dinn was nowhere to be seen. She had not boarded the vessel with them, and they had not been able to simply wait for her.​

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Arcturus did not like that. Throughout his breathing exercises and the ebbing and flowing of the Force around his form, he could not help but allow his thoughts to stray. Where was she? What was she doing? He reached out further through the Force, tried to feel for her, but it was a busy world full of busy, frightened people, and he was quick to withdraw from such.​

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He pulled out his datapad. Threw her a message via the good ole holonet. Nothing incriminating, nothing that could let the Jedi know what they were doing if they happened to be monitoring airwaves or whatever. Just a simple "You okay?"​

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Nothing wrong with a "You okay?"​

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The shuttle landed soon after, and though he was usually slower to disembark than most he stepped down the ramp ahead of the others. They were not directly upon the port, somehow the element of surprise was still a thing they were hoping for. Either way the troops who had accompanied their Force Sensitive group disembarked soon after, bringing with them firepower and mobile tractor beams in hopes of grounding their enemies.​

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With any luck Ishani would answer back so he could stop worrying. Until then he joined the others as they grouped up and began to plan for the upcoming assault. Or perhaps it was more of a siege.​

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What did he know?​

 

[Ishani Dinn]

yeah I’m fine get your cute ass down here

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[R3-D1]

Location: General vicinity of Cedric Grayson and his motley crew of companions, Chandaar.
Objective I
Relevant Tags: Cedric Grayson Wyatt Morga Syala Daivik

R3 had no questions, though the diminutive droids reasoning was twofold. The first was the most obvious: R3 was a droid. It did not bother with foolish things like questions or clarifications; a droid did as it was told and as its programming told, which to be fair was just a reiteration and specification of the first qualifier.

The second reason was the more abstract of the two, at least for a droid. Indeed, it was a thought most droids would never think of having simply because they lacked the ability to have it in the first place! R3's issue lay with the fact that asking any questions in a mission that involved Grayson was an exercise in futility. When dealing with Cedric Grayson, the impossible becomes possible, the improbable becomes probable, and what should happen could not happen at all. He was a man of contradictions - every droid's worst nightmare - that seemed to sew chaos wherever he went, whether intentionally or not. A nightmare; a true nightmare! So, the droid had learned in the few adventures he and Grayson had shared to expect nothing but prepare for anything.

So - after whistling to those present in greeting - R3 blew out a terse raspberry, making it clear the droid understood the seriousness of the situation. No doubt, it would be an arduous task ahead of them.

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

OBJECTIVE I

The darkness has come for Chandaar. First had been Ossus, home of the Jedi turned smoldering plains of ash and shallow graves - the jewel of the order swallowed by the gapping maw of The Graug. The Fist of The Emperor towered over the encroaching destruction, tails of flame and pillars of smoke accenting his dark silhouette against the horizon. The Infernal Horde lurched forward through the crumbling streets of the planet, taking and slaughtering screaming masses of refugees as they fled towards one of the last safe harbors available to them - the factories.

Built atop bedrock and iron ores, the factories were impossible for his hordes to dig through in a timely manner. It hadn't taken the planetary defense force long to discover this and begin shoring up what pitiful remains they clung to around the smoke stacks. Artillery kept the horde at bay and defensive barriers offered enough protection from returning fire. It would have been easy enough to slag the complex and bury the survivors beneath the burning metal...but the factories were important, even to The Graug.

With a little persuasion the workers could be made to teach the priesthood the secrets of working the machinery - then the Graug could begin churning out firearms and advanced armor in mass quantities. His horde would, for the first time since the fall of the Eighth Sith Empire, be armed and armored as well as any planetary defense force. If it had been up to him, Vulcanus would simply starve the refugees and slaughter the survivors - but time was not on his side.

The Jedi had come. Agents of Maliphant had discovered intrusion in the factory district. Jedi resistance had made it their priority to destroy the factory district before The Graug or The Sith Eternal managed to use them...so the time timetable had been advanced.

Raising his flaming Sith Sword high into the air, Vulcanus unleashed a vicious warcry - his burning gaze set on the factory site ahead. At once the horde screamed back and charged past the rubble of the cities, their gaze refocused onto the outer defenses of the factory district. Planetary defenses around the factories sounded off, littering no man's land with fire and smoke as an endless ocean of Graug began their carless charge into battle...

 

[Syala Daivik]

Objective I
Cedric Grayson | Wyatt Morga | R3-D1 | Darth Vulcanus

With her chief concern having already been voiced by Cedric, there was little else she could think of that gave her pause regarding the plan. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was. The only question she could muster was directly related to the previous, "What about the area immediately surrounding the factory? I don't want anyone getting caught in the collapse." Chances were with the extent of industrialization there weren't any housing zones in such close proximity, but on the same hand the sheer amount of factories increased the chances of just that.

Outside of civilian casualties, it all seemed sound. Disabling the war machine before it gained significant traction was the best chance they had at doing great damage, and less weapons in the hands of the Sith meant less tragedies similar to so many she had already witnessed. Very high risk, but by virtue of what she and the others stood for it was no different than many other undertakings. Better them than anyone else.

As the droid blew its raspberry she smiled and turned, resting her hand on its domed head. "I'm sure you'll be the most important part of the mission, don't worry." She'd grown fond of astromechs during her time with the Silver Jedi what felt like ages ago, and this one seemed no less friendly.

That same sense of dread crept up on her, sinking in like a dark, inky fog no different than the pollution that already ravaged the planet. Except this was somehow more pervasive, digging into everyone and everything it could drive its claws into. Closing her eyes for a brief moment to find solace in the light, she looked to her companions with a hardened edge to her previously soft gaze. "They're already here. We need to move now."

 

[Baalagor]

Objective II
Darth Empyrean

Her entrance into the room was preceded by two Graug priests, armor fused to the top half of their faces and melted into flesh, rendering them hideously blind and lending to the already intimidating presence of the species. In comparison her form was diminutive, though she stood out for the fact that she was not Graug - at least, not physically. But she was of the Graug, and it was that distinction that mattered most. Two of the priests followed behind as well, the four of them making up an ever-present personal guard.

Quietly she took her own seat at the table at the place prepared for her master, not quite as imposing in a chair not made for her size. That was offset by her guardians that now stood at her back, towering over near everyone present. A silver headdress looked out at those gathered, disguising burn scars and blind eyes not dissimilar to the priests themselves. It was the blind leading the blind in the truest sense of the word, but her sight went far deeper than the physical, reaching into the Dark Side itself.

This marked one of the only times she had gone anywhere not in the presence of the Great Khaan, and she still felt strangely exposed and alienated not being at his side. Solace was taken in the fact that he wanted her here to speak with his voice, laying claim to the factories in the name of the Graug and none else. What would happen if they didn't acquiesce wasn't a difficult equation to put together, but her being here was her master's way of giving them a chance.

She would remain silent until the proceedings began, hands folded neatly in her lap.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

While the main body of the team set up, Arcturus once again reached out with the Force and felt around for Ishani. He'd received her message just after leaving the boarding ramp, she was around here somewhere. Now to just pinpoint her.​

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Come on, Ish, where are you hiding?​

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He turned and scoured the area, narrowing his eyes and utilizing the Force in aid of his venture. Then he spotted her, not too far away from their landing point. She was observing the port just as their accompanying troops were.​

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While they kept watch to ensure no vessels tried to leave, he climbed a rise toward her. When he reached her side he glanced over the view she had, and couldn't help but hum in appreciation. It was a very good view of the port, to be sure.​

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Why weren't you with the transport? he inquired, reaching out to gently pet the bird in her grasp, You had me worried for a moment there...​

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He didn't turn his sights away from the task at hand. The last thing he needed was to be AWOL when the true task began.​

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Ishani Dinn ​

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani was stroking the owl’s feathers when she felt Arcturus nudging around with the Force. A grin crossed her features. Yoohoo! Over here!

When the redhead finally clambered up the rise where she perched with her bird, he seemed a bit befuddled, perhaps even peeved. After all, she hadn’t been on the transport with him. Where had she been?

“Here,” she gestured to the lovely view of the smog-choked port before them. “Disgusting place, isn’t it? Here’s one planet where I don’t really care if they decide to tear it all down. Oh, I decided to show up early to scout the place out. Of course, I would’ve joined you on the transport, but I wasn’t sure how long I could stand to keep my hands off you. That wouldn’t have been good for the mission, even if it did dazzle the troops.”

She watched him pet the owl. Nephthys’ eyes closed in contentment, enjoying all the attention he was receiving. Pointing down toward the port, she drew Arcturus’ attention to the compound, a little square of buildings near the edge of the infrastructural grid.

“That is the target, where they’re holding the Jedi and Force sensitives until the smugglers arrive. I had my friend here fly over it to see how many guards there were.” Overhearing the conversation, the troops approached, listening intently. “He spotted six around the entrance. Not many, though they're probably the tough elite types the report mentioned. We could storm in guns blazing and take out the security detail, or we could blast our way in with a grenade or two—both options are likely to raise the alarm, though. So maybe… a stealthier option would be preferable? What say you, Arc?”

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Graug brought priests, and the iconic heel biter of the great Warlord whose tailcoats they treaded upon. Maliphant smiled quietly to himself, though obviously enough as a sign of disrespect to her and those gathered. Surely, Maliphant didn't want to fight Vulcanus is a Kaggath for honor - but if his lackey were the one offering his dealings, then he had at least some leeway in reminding them who he was. The issue, however, became more complicated - at least in his eyes.

Knowing all to well the rather authoritarian nature of the warlord, and his recent bids for power, the arrival of Baalagor was no doubt a sign that he was going to be unwavering in his use of the factories. Not that Vulcanus was ever amiable to negotiations, he was known for burning diplomatic envoys rather than listening to them - but Maliphant already knew that this envoy of his did not carry the authority to broker any sort of dealings. No doubt this would require righteous action on behalf of the Dark Council before the day was through.

So, he loudly sighed as his gaze broke from the Flame Keeper and onto the rest of those gathering within. Consul of various rank, including Sharan Maevel began to tread in - but no sign of the Will himself. No doubt preparing the education camps back on Korriban for the captured civilians. Still, there was enough 'non Graug' weight here to show a sizable force, should they be willing to put their weight behind their needs.

Maliphant would only hope. Vulcanus was not a fool, and backing down was not going to be likely; but faced with a seven lord army, he may yet consider the temporary necessity of a few factories at a yearly rate. One he would no doubt be recompenssed for. Clearing his throat as the others sat, Maliphant stood and glanced about - before settling on the Knight of Flames;

"I thank you all for coming and hope you are all read for today's negotiations.", he said with a smile - the hint of what he already knew heavy on his words.

"Envoy of the Fist -", he said motioning to Baalagor , "- As you know, the Sith Eternal shed blood on Ossus for the right to conquer these planets. Darth Vulcanus and the Graug were busy on Zygerria, causing untold damages to the war effort. Now is the time for the return of investment for breaking the initial defenses."

"For a two year term, the Sith Eternal's Lords require use of the reservation factory districts to rearm and recoup the losses incurred in our advance. Updating the factories technology, their automation and employees will be gathered from the general refugee population, and a dividend payment will be given to Darth Vulcanus's coffers per unit produced."

Maliphant motioned to a hologram in the center of the table that defined the reservation areas in question in green. Walled off ghettos full of the poor masses stacked in massive towers - but they were full of industrial might, if not dated after centuries of mishandling and dejection.

"In total, we expect this to take over about 65% of total production - and after the two year term, the updated factories will return to Vulcanus's control."

"Thoughts?", he said as he glanced about the table for other voices. No doubt some wanted a larger share for themselves, but overcoming the central issue of Vulcanus was the first to be dealt with.

Baalagor │ Sharan Maevel

 

[Sharan Maevel]

Sharan's entrance had been a quiet one. The woman simply moved to her seat and wordlessly took place, letting the arrival of others draw any attention away from herself. It was part of a deliberate tactic, born out of necessity rather than any desire for things to be this way. Long before entering the chamber did she know that there was a good chance her voice would not garner the same respect a Lord would have. That fact didn't give her much of a reason to stick her head out, especially when things hadn't even begun in earnest yet.

While Sharan kept herself out of the center of attention, she did make sure to carefully study those who took a seat in this meeting. From the woman flanked by graug to lord Maliphant, her eye was laid on all of them. Perhaps it wasn't entirely necessary, but there was no harm in the act of admiring power.

For now, Sharan's silence would be retained. She would seek to make her voice heard in time. The simple fact of the matter was that because of who she was, she had to play her cards differently. Thankfully, the first leg of the negotiations would require little of her directly. Those with weight behind their names were much better suited to set the stage.

Darth Empyrean | Baalagor ​