Invasion Total Eclipse of the Heart || Objective 1: And I Need You Now Tonight

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

O B J E C T I V E - 1
W I E L U

Interacting with: Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes Mauve du Vain Viktor Sylvain Arcadian Dominique Vexx
Nearby: Velok Brokentusk Decarii Tithe Annasari Arrik Straden
Named NPCS used: Vessa Minari, Tirum Dehn, Krenn Lido, Yalel Dray

"Such things have a way of malfunctioning ahead of events," Dominique replied quietly to Sibylla, "but I will do what I can." A hand slowly lifted to adjust the shades on the bridge of her nose with a lone finger.

Sibylla gave Dominique a subtle nod of gratitude, reminding herself that she needed to maintain her composure and the perception of firm, rational authority. This situation had escalated into a theatrical performance that required her to keep her racing thoughts and emotions tightly locked away.

In her mind, she viewed the scene like a Dejarik player, noting the positions, allegiances, and thoughts of everyone involved, while contemplating how their arrangement on the Dejarik board might shift.

It was proven that Dominique and Aurelian worked well in tandem with her, providing support and assistance as they presented various reasons why it wouldn't make sense for the Republic to jeopardize negotiations with Wielu -- especially after the prosperous year they had experienced together.

But if this Mauve and the Nar Shaddaa Bank -- or more aptly with every second that passed, very likely the peon of Black Sun Syndicate -- thought they could just bring up records, twist words, and label the Republic as lax in its duties and oversight, well then, they had another thing coming.

Which was a good thing that J'dor and Mauve had done their best to spew such lies, for while the scent of jasmine also hit Sibylla with that wake of sympathy and fear, the audacity of her claims managed to rile her up enough to rise above her need to lose her composure completely and try to comfort. Doing her best to calm her thundering heart and the same anxiety sensation left in the wake of her own internal struggle.

For the High Republic was, first and foremost, the Royal Republic -- elevated by courtiers of Royal Houses in liege with corporations and worlds who relied on their cleverness and eloquence to gain influence and power.

And if they had ever selected the worst Royal House to try and smear with a campaign of doubt and intrigue, then House Sal-Soren was it. Sal-Soren, despite its colorful history, had been one of the most transparent regarding the skeletons in its closet.

As the sound of blaster shots and ongoing fighting echoed in the distance, Sibylla lifted her chin. Her hazel eyes narrowed and sparkled with a kind of calm confidence characteristic of a woman seemingly unfazed by the fluttering in her throat and the twisting knot of anxiety in her stomach.

"Do not twist history and piecemeal it at your leisure, Ma'dam." Sibylla firmly retorted with a calm surety that belied her young age as her hazel eyes bore from J'dor to Mauve du Vain

"Every Royal House knows that story well -- one that is easily verified. Brandon Sal-Soren killed terrorists who assassinated his mother and father in cold blood. He was arrested and brought to Coruscant by his own sister, detained within the New Jedi Order in the Galactic Alliance, where he was then placed on trial and made to face his crimes, as required by the laws of that governing body."

Her eyes flickered over toward the councilmen and women and finally to Viktor Sylvain .

"Let it be clear. Bran Sal-Soren conducted such an act and served his time long before the Royal Naboo Republic charter of Crown Worlds was created -- and certainly long before it transitioned into the High Republic. Any responsibility and oversight was long since enacted by the Galactic Alliance and the New Jedi Order."

She turned her attention back to the councilors.

"Do not be fooled. For Brandon Sal-Soren's sister is none other than the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order -- and if she was willing to bring her own blood to trial, do you truly believe she would allow him to walk free if justice had not been served?"

A ripple of murmurs followed her words, even as her comm sputtered and gave a buzz. It was from Cassian. She read the contents quickly and gave a sigh of relief...just as another call seemed to be trying to come in at that exact time.

However, the sway and scent of Jasmine wafted through the air, and a wave of pity ebbed from the councilors like tidal waves. Pity. And fear.

"So then... what is going on here then? Why was Dumas killed? And who is responsible for it?" Councilor Dehn's emotions were heightened, and sympathy hit, but the sense of anxiety and alarm lingered, uncertain on whom to believe.

Yalel Dray's expression seemed clouded with those high emotions, but no longer hostile, "Well, when did it happen then?"

"Anyone can say things. We need concrete information! How can we trust them?!" But Krenn objected again, clearly unwilling to leave Mauve's side of the issue just yet.

It was Councilor Minari who, as ever, cut through the noise with clarity, her will stronger than the rest.

"If this occurred during Alliance oversight, it should be visible with a HoloNet search into the public records to verify the timeline, shouldn't it?" she said evenly.

x | x | x | x | x | x
​

 

[Annasari]

CORPORATE COUNCIL CHAMBERS
CONFERENCE ROOM 2
ALEKIE ISLAND, WIELU
Decarii Tithe | Quinn Varanin | Velok Brokentusk

​

The room around her may as well have been another galaxy, for all she noticed. Annasari's hand, covered in crimson, still held the offered pen. Blood pooled at her knees, a sea overtaking cheap carpet. It grew with every second as the councilor's body drained it's full capacity. The senator had seen blood before. Born to nothing, the streets of Nar Shaddaa were not kind - and the places that would put a roof over your head were worse. Yet, none of the patrons she had seen bruised, battered, or slain were quite as graphic as Durnas was.

How funny, that thieves and bounty hunters should get a prettier death than a rich and powerful business man.

Blood dripped with the shake of her hands.

“Senator?”

Words failed. There was hopeless eternity in the moments after trying to muster them. Did she not understand they had lost?

"PULL. YOURSELF. TOGETHER."

Cold, calculating instinct screa, breaking the heat of the fluids which covered her. The stylus tumbled to the floor as she released her grip on it - and she grasped for any lifeline instead. Tithe was wrong - the logic returning insisted that. There was little hope in gathering a signature. In a matter of minutes, the building would be chaos, dreamy paradise interrupted by swarming security. This battle was lost... but the war was not over.

"No.... No. That won't happen. This deal died with him. If we win this, it will be through perception and sympathy."

Nudging past the body, the senator began to crawl, making her way to the broken glass and rubble that scattered across the floor beyond the table. Once, she had taken a flesh wound in an assassination attempt, shortly after she had started the guild. It had set Meera and Errant fussing about her endlessly with the way she bled. Lots of blood vessels, she recalled her Echani aid saying.

A sharp enough piece was identified. Without ceremony, Anna snapped the edge across her ear and side of her head. A sharp gasp was the only sign of weakness shown. She then took the shard between both hands, and thrusted it into her gut, just deep enough to hurt more than a sting. A shudder rolled down the course of her spine. Tossing the makeshift weapon aside, she fumbled for the edge of the table, then for Decarii's shoulder.

"You help me out of here." Anna's voice was low as she crafted their story. Blood oozed from her wounds, sprinkling the lawyer. "They tried to kill me. They wanted to shake our democracy. They wanted to destabilize the corporate council. We will not be intimidated, and we will protect Wielu. A member world will not fall to lawlessness."

The nightly news would eat it up.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective 1 - Side Story (?) //:
//: Velok Brokentusk //: Arris Windrun //:
//: Mauve du Vain //: Annasari //: Decarii Tithe //:

The collision was expected, and Quinn felt a sense of pride shoot through her. Not only did she block and deflect the blaster shots, but she also drove him nearly out of the conference room. The pheromones continued to swirl in the girl's head, latching onto that sense of pride and embellishing it. It was almost a guarantee that she would receive praise, and the thought warmed her heart.

What Quinn didn't anticipate was the reaction from the Whiphid.

The world suddenly darkened as Quinn couldn't change her direction in time to avoid his massive trenchcoat. In one fell swoop, she was swallowed by the fabric. Panic settled in as she tried to pull and tug at it. In any other instance, she would have pulled it with her as she tried to run or drew her weapon and cut through it.

Something lingered in her mind to keep her there, because if she moved, if she ran away — he would get Mauve. As the Princess became further tangled in the jacket, a loud crack echoed in the hallway. And what followed was something Quinn had only felt once before.

On instinct, she protected herself with Tutaminis. If it were a blaster bolt, she'd be able to absorb it and redirect the energy to help her escape the fabric hell. But, unfortunately, because she couldn't see the gun or the direction that it was coming from, Quinn was unable to sense through the pheromone fog the danger.

Arris's shot, while intended for another target, found its way through the tender porcelain skin of the Echani. The Tutaminis drained the bullet of its protective energy casing. Still, the bullet ripped through flesh and muscle as if it were paper.

A tiny, painful yelp came from the Echani as her brain registered through the mental fog that she had been shot. That the crack in the air, the stench of burning air, and now the taste of blood, all of it, hit her at the same time.

Another cry of pain as her hands cupped over the right side of her lower chest. Blood spilled over her hands, and she didn't need to see it as the warm, sticky liquid on her fingers was enough to know. Again, Quinn whimpered. It was happening again, the pain burning through her as every nerve and ounce of energy kicked into survival.

She was dying again. It happened once before, but this time Srina Talon wasn't there. No one was there. Before she could panic more, the Whiphid lifted her up and tossed her through the wall. The impact elicited a painful cry from the girl. She was unprepared, and her mind was in pieces.

Luckily, the throw allowed her to find an opening in the coat, and she was seeing light again. Her eyes were frantic as she looked. Mauve wasn't there, but the Whiphid still was, and so was the woman holding the gun. She coughed, and blood now spilled between her lips; whatever she was shot with was something meant for the beast.

Breathing became hard, every breath more and more shallow. She couldn't cry for help; she couldn't even beg to live. There was only one thing left, and suddenly she could feel the world collapse inward on her, but the body still moved.

Demeanor changed, and the fog lifted from behind the girl's eyes. Orange Sith corruption bled into her once viridescent irises.

The gunshot no longer mattered despite the blood pouring from the open wound. Quinn's feet settled, a stance widening as she exhaled, calming the short, rapid breaths she had been taking. It was as if the Echani were a different person; in reality, Quinn had retreated, handing off the reins to another.

The stoic yet relaxed stance mirrored Shii-cho; her feet dug in as the Force flowed through her. Her body hardened, becoming a weapon despite the weakness it felt. Death was imminent, but that wasn't the Echo's problem. It was here to finish the job.

Quinn once more shot forward, the Force enhancing her speed, but differently this time. Instead of being a blinding shot, she moved with power behind each step. She closed the distance as her fist sparked with lightning. As she planted her first foot, the Force focused on the fist and the lightning as she aimed to strike him once more where she had before with the sphere.

In the same stride, Quinn's free hand caught the hilt of her lightsaber. The empowered punch was a minor distraction. If it connected, it would be a bonus, but in a fluid motion, the saber ignited its brilliant amber blade. The blade arced upward, reversed grip, her arm snapping high — before she plunged it downward into the Whiphid's form.

The Echo of the Conqueror of Ten-Thousand Worlds, Darth Desimus, Sith Empress of the Eighth Empire, had pushed forward to protect her daughter.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Objective 1
Location: Luxury Golf resort
Equipment: 9 iron and charm
​

The young still didn't quite understand how the galaxy worked. Or at least, they wanted to think it was fair a just and everyone could make a difference.

Raigryn knew how the galaxy worked.

Raigryn sliced his next shot, sending the ball just outside the green.

"Darn," he muttered.

Garrim chuckled and stepped up to the tee. Garrim was a venture capitalist. In fact, he was Raigryn's venture capitalist.

The Vayd family had lots of money. Garrim helped him make that money work. He invested in business across the sector.

"Heard there is some new money in the system," Raigryn muttered as Garrim settled himself. Three hours and he finally got to the topic. Young senators, they didn't have the patience to... Enjoy leisurely persuits for hours upon hours before doing a few minutes of work.

"Apparently," Garrim replied. "They're not exactly following the normal pattern of business."

The air hissed as he swung. His ball flew straight down the green. Raigryn found people were more talkative when they were winning easily.

Raigryn's assets only made up two percent of Garrim's investments, but it was still significant.

"Do I need to be worried?" Raigryn laughed. "Hostile takeovers and all that."

For all the power in corporate leaders and politicians. The shift in market rates and a phone call from the majority investor made things happen.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

but instead, she drew the gun, aimed at one of his big meaty legs, and fired.

He moved with a increased intensity and quickness and it appeared he would be upon the disruption which was group of people.

Quinn once more shot forward, the Force enhancing her speed, but differently this time. Instead of being a blinding shot, she moved with power behind each step. She closed the distance as her fist sparked with lightning. As she planted her first foot, the Force focused on the fist and the lightning as she aimed to strike him once more where she had before with the sphere.

In the same stride, Quinn's free hand caught the hilt of her lightsaber. The empowered punch was a minor distraction. If it connected, it would be a bonus, but in a fluid motion, the saber ignited its brilliant amber blade. The blade arced upward, reversed grip, her arm snapping high — before she plunged it downward into the Whiphid's form.

VELOK BROKENTUSK
BOUNTY HUNTING LICENSE #006
SEEKING: 5 million credits
TOGGLE: Verified

CONFERENCE CENTRE HALL
OUTSIDE CONFERENCE ROOM 2 (RED ROOM)
IMMEDIATE: Quinn Varanin Arris Windrun
NEARBY: Decarii Tithe Annasari Cassian Abrantes

A shot came in, likely meant for him, and got intercepted the hard way by the small blonde currently busy annihilating him. Small mercies. Even tossing her through the wall only bought him time to get the lay of the land — someone was self-mutilating over there in the boardroom ruins, which smelled like politics and also none of his business. Priority one was the blonde. Priority two was the cyborg gunslinger. Priority three, and this was way out of kilter, was the fact that his quarry was nowhere around. He got the distinct sense that the hubbub from her last known direction was a tangle of conflicting speeches. He got the equally distinct sense that the Akala-Merrill Grand Unifying Theory of Time Shavvit was in full effect. That made him uneasy as most time distortions did. But that had to be priority four. Five, if he called this attempt a failure and put 'escape' somewhere around priority three.

Much to consider and no time to consider it. The Grand Unifying Theory was not in his favor today.

The small blonde humanoid's lightning fist crashed into his gut, followed by the old familiar feeling of a lightsaber impalement.

He'd rather thought he could handle one of those better this time, but no.

He fell backward, slapping the floor to save on damage. His shoulders hit exquisite flooring with a crunch. He felt every one of his two hundred years and nine hundred pounds. Hate really wanted to rear up but that wasn't his way anymore. Instead he fought for clarity past the pain.

He had one weapon left and he whirled it for some cover to struggle upright:

L I G H T S A B E R

 

[Davik Haize]

As dark and frighteningly indifferent as space could be, any spacer worth their salt would admit: nothing compared to the sight of a world suspended under the infinite sky of stars. Wielu was no exception. Perhaps it even surpassed the rest; twin suns glinting off its turquoise oceans and seas, casting a golden breath over the lush tropics below.

So when sparks began to flicker and crawl along the Duchess’s bow as it neared atmospheric entry, you probably wonder why Davik Haize was standing on the hull with a fusioncutter in hand, a bundle of energy flux capacitors, stripped from several power scanners, in the other, and a snarl of wire looped around his shoulder.

Let’s rewind the tape a bit.

---

“Alright,” Davik muttered, crouched under a dead console in the cockpit. “Give me the sequence, Skip.”

The goal was simple - they needed, at minimum: the atmospheric-friction shield up and running or they were burnt toast on reentry; minimal thrust from the engines and maneuvering jets or they’d crash nose-down into a bloody pulp; and, if the stars showed them mercy, functioning comms to send a distress signal.

Skip beeped yet another warning, [[THIS WILL NOT WORK, DAVIK]]

“Just give it to me, will you? I know what I’m doing.”

The slicer droid whistled what was as close to a sigh in droid-speech, then, with a few reluctant beeps and eeps, it fed Haize the sequence to initiate a bypass on the Duchess’ reactor. A hard reboot attempt.

Haize keyed in the final strokes, and suddenly, the dull red emergency glow in the cockpit blinked out. A heartbeat later, the main lights flared to life in a white blaze, cascading down the corridor. Consoles hummed. The Duchess stirred to life!

“See?” Davik stood up, dusting off his hands smugly.

A loud crack resounded from the consoles, followed by a burst of heat. One of the circuit junctions blew open, coughing black smoke into the cockpit. The lights died again, swallowed by the emergency crimson hue once more, and the rising hum of the ship, stirring to life, powered down into a coma. Again.

Skip hovered past Davik, a small fire extinguisher already protruding from its chassis, hissing foam onto the minor fire.

“Say nothing,” the Warden grumbled under his nose to the droid. The grid was toast, gnawed by mynocks.

Next, they tried jury-rigging the escape pod’s emergency power cells to jumpstart the reactor directly. It went well. Well, as in -- surge overloading the main coupling due to polarity incompatibility did not fry Haize and Skip to death.

[[NEW ODDS OF SURVIVAL: THIRTEEN PERCENT.]], the droid simply stated, as they made their return to the cockpit in defeat.

The world of Wielu drew closer and time was running out.

---

Back to the present…

Skip whistled quizzically as Davik stepped back into the cockpit with only the fusioncutter in hand.

“Yeah, it’s done,” he replied, a hopeless tone in his voice as gloved hands set the fusioncutter aside, “Capacitors welded and wired. Atmo static’s either going to power the shield up or it’s gonna burn it toast, and then us next.”

He slumped into the pilot’s seat, exhausted from the space walk, the repairs, fighting mynocks, and even exhausted from hating on the shadowport and its captain Jerec Asyr for the bio breach aboard it.

“You?”

Skip beeped in confirmation, but even his inorganic tone conveyed hopelessness; the droid had manually shut all circuits from the reactor to any other system, other than the comms, the engines, both sub and hyper, maneuvering jets, and hydraulics to the yoke. The plan was to cut life support systems across the entire ship, bar for the cockpit and the comms cabin behind it, and siphon its power to kickstart the reactor core.

A Hail Force moment.

Davik shut his eyes, inhaled in a long, deep breath, and cracked his neck.

“Do it.”

Skip gave one final beep of acknowledgment and vanished behind the panels. For a moment, there was only the whine of strained metal and the soft hissing of pressurized oxygen cycling in the cockpit.

Then the viewport began to burn.

A tremble ran through the Duchess; somewhere below deck, something shuddered.

Lights flickered once.

Twice.

The consoles stuttered to life; the cockpit lights flared in a pale, bright light; systems flashed across the panels; and the emergency fixtures dimmed black.

A bright, translucent field shimmered across the transparisteel in strife against the flames engulfing the ship.

Then came the sound no spacer ever wanted to hear: a dull clunk, followed by the lights flickering once more. The reactor growled a dying groan. Another moan shuddered through the bulkheads. The Duchess began to go dark again: lights failing, consoles dying out one by one in a shower of sparks.

“No, no, no-”

Sweat poured down Haize’s brow. The smell of melting durasteel wafted into his nostrils.

Suddenly, the pulse surged back, and the main drive system roared. A few monitors lit to life, and the atmospheric-friction shield stuttered to life once again, forming a near-transparent halo around the Duchess.

Skip screeched in jubilation from behind an open panel.

The Duchess was rocking, rattling, and flying straight into atmo reentry fast.

But she was alive.

For the first time in a long while, Davik grinned. He squeezed the yoke as much as for dear life as for fighting the Duchess to bring her nose up.

“We’re gonna make it!”

---

“We’re not gonna make it!!”

The Gauntlet-class starfighter-transport plummeted uncontrollably, trailing smoke. Lush green and bland grey hues sharpened into jungles, towers, roads, and streaking speeders. The surface of Wielu was coming up fast.

“Skip, broadcast a distress signal. Hit every Republic frequency you’ve got - tell them their fleet’s ordering their evac and retreat, and I think they might be under attack by those Lucrehulks. Tell them…” he hesitated, then sighed. “Tell them we’re their exfil.”

Some exfil we are…

The slicer droid whirred and started beaming the comms as ordered on repeat.

“Wait, you said that too? I was just thinking out loud, Skip! I don’t know if they’re under attack, I just saw something explode among their fleet!”

Ah, feth it. Can’t think about that now.

With all the force he could muster, both physical and ethereal, he yanked the ship’s nose up, the thrusters burning on a pathetic reverse ever since they broke atmo. The thrusters coughed in pitiful reverse, barely fighting their descent since breaking atmo. The negotiation hall filled the viewport, the ship hurtling straight toward its upper windows.

At the last moment, Davik pulled it off course. The Duchess slammed onto the landing platform, skidding across duracrete until it crashed full-force into the Republic dignitaries’ shuttle, shoving it clean off the edge and down the cliff to the lower tier below.

Ope.​

TAGS: Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes Mauve du Vain Viktor Sylvain Arcadian Dominique Vexx Velok Brokentusk Decarii Tithe Annasari Arris Windrun Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian took a long, slow breath, his fingers pressed together before his mouth as the Jedi Murderer revelation finally faded from the chamber like a receding thunderclap. Mauve remained seated, swaying gently in her carefully crafted performance, her voice low and trembling. She was a Zeltron steeped in tragedy, accompanied by a Nikto sidekick with a projector full of half-context quotes and curated outrage. Together, they spun their story with the frantic desperation of a drowning crew trying to throw anchors at their rescuers.

Sibylla responded first, her voice calm and precise as she dissected the claims with surgical efficiency. Good. Let her dismantle their arguments with data and law. Now, it was Aurelian's turn to do what he did best: paint the stage in fire.

Aurelian rose slowly, deliberately, as if disappointment had physically weighted his limbs. His gaze swept the chamber, pausing on Mauve and J'dor with a sorrowful look, the kind one might reserve for a particularly dramatic child caught defacing a priceless painting with glitter ink.

He began softly, almost too softly. "Do you smell that?" He sniffed once, theatrically. "Jasmine. Pity. Desperation."

He walked forward with the grace of a man delivering a eulogy and a victory speech all at once. "This isn't evidence or insight, Councilors. This is desperation." He turned fully toward Mauve, carrying himself like a crownless royal. "The Republic has its flaws, yes, but we don't resort to dredging up a decade-old family tragedy. Especially not one from a noble house so low on Naboo's political ladder."

He waved vaguely in the air, indicating the ghost of Brandyn Sal-Soren's audio. "That entire story unfolded under the Galactic Alliance, a different era with different laws and courts. It was judged, sentenced, served, and recorded. We aren't a theocracy. The Jedi don't run the Republic, they don't write our laws or sit on our councils. They are peacekeepers, bound by their own codes. The very code that sent his own sister to arrest him."

His voice rose now, not shouting or yelling, but building to a crescendo.

"If Miss Mauve believes she has new evidence, if she has suddenly remembered the exact sequence of events from a courtroom before she was in whatever position she is in, then we would happily escort her to Naboo to reopen the case in front of the Royal Assembly." His smile turned knife-sharp. "On the way, perhaps we can also take the opportunity to dig into her records. We could see what Mauve of Nar Shaddaa has been up to lately, if she's wanted anywhere, or what bounties are stapled to her name."

He turned back to the Council, his tone dropping into something cooler. "The Republic doesn't fear sunlight. We welcome it; we embody it. Which is more than I can say for the people trying to silence your communication arrays and smear blood across your voting floor like some backroom charade from a Hutt auction."

He had just begun to walk back toward his chair when a Veruna guard briskly stepped to his side and handed him a datapad. Aurelian's eyes flicked over the screen. He blinked, then smiled, then showed the datapad to Sibylla and Dominique with a flick of his wrist. Communications finally up. On the screen, the scrambled exfil message from Davik's ship looped: "Republic dignitary shuttle has been destroyed. Repeat, we're landing now. Emergency evac. Tell the fleet they're under attack, this is your exfil."

Aurelian turned to the Council and raised the datapad high. "The Republic has nothing to hide," he announced. "But apparently, neither does anyone else, because it seems blood wasn't limited to one conference room."

He lowered the datapad slowly. "I suggest," he said, calm but unshakable, "that we take a little field trip to the other conference room. Let's see who else is still breathing, compare stories, and detain every single person left in that space to find out who panicked enough to set this plan in motion."

He walked forward again, casting a glance at Mauve that wasn't unkind, just deeply, existentially unimpressed. "You picked the wrong stage, darling."

Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Dominique Vexx | Mauve du Vain | Viktor Sylvain | Arcadian | Velok Brokentusk | Decarii Tithe | Annasari | Quinn Varanin | Arris Windrun​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Curious to watch Mauve du Vain as the woman seemed genuinely shaken. To a point. There was a little bit too much stability to the eyes to suggest the woman had lost all sense from shock though. What had happened in the next room wasn't planned. Dominique couldn't bring herself to believe the Black Sun (or Hutts) would have sent someone unaccustomed to bloodshed if that had been the plan. They had so many to choose from, after all.

Such contemplation didn't last long, as J'dor stepped forth with quite the bold statement. Dominique slowly turned to bring the man into frame of her shades. If the man was going to play that trump card then he was going to need to back it up; a follow-up was inevitable. And inevitable it was, as a holorecording began to play out before them.

The recordings ended. Silence gripped the room for a moment. It was pregnant with J'dor to make his point. And indeed the man did...

Which was when he lost Dominique's interest. Mauve wanted people to feel pity? Well, there was a great swell of it for J'dor then and there. Dominique had to consciously make an effort not to laugh out loud, which had her give a curious look to the Zeltron nearby. Thanks to Ayumi Pallopides , Dominique had been recently reacquainted with those boisterous people. They weren't like the Falleen in commanding people, but they could influence you emotionally.

Honestly, they thought to bring to light the crimes of one man that held no position of authority in the Republic? As Aurelian would soon go on to say, it was quite the desperate move. But, perhaps, with those pheromones they might stand a chance. The Republic delegates did, after all, play into the whole 'the more you refute it, the stranger it seems' angle, but that could only go so far if you didn't have a mountain with which to bury someone.

On that note, Sibylla Abrantes and Aurelian Veruna wasted no time trying to steer the moment. Which for that moment left Dominique to 'idly' drum her fingers along the sleeve of her left forearm. Though if people could see her side of the opaque glareshades they'd see Dominique wasn't nearly as idle as she seemed. Holocams, entryway logs, nearby traffic logs, automated light activation, holocams from nearby buildings... why Dominique even thought to pull up the environmental stabilizing system within the compound to see if it registered changes in ambient temperature that had required correction. If you dug deep enough you could find hints of activity everywhere that could fill in the gaps of any missing video footage.

Perhaps, fortuitously, the cameras had been disabled in the chamber where the sordid affair occurred, however. Whether by the bounty hunter or from the Council's desire for privacy during tense negotiations. It likewise hid Annasari 's response to the unexpected turn -- something they'd yet to learn about.

At the end of Aurelian's redress, he has waylaid by a guard and then displayed a message for Sibylla and her to see. Dominique's eyes narrowed behind her shades. Exfil?

Dominique stepped forward as well. "Council members, I invite you to investigate these affairs as we intend to, but I find the very need for this delegation to be ushered from this chamber and leave but a single party behind not merely irregular, but outrageous. They can argue what happened in the next room endlessly; I will eagerly await them trying to account for the planet-wide evidence of matters that have -- evidently -- occurred in air and in orbit of Wielu." She didn't even bother to look at Mauve as the others did in accusation. Nor had Dominique so much as glanced in Arcadian's direction. "I cannot and will not stand for this outrage. Nor should you. Rest assured if any unauthorized or hostile vessels remain in orbit by the time I get in contact with Denon, our planetary fleet will be dispatched to clear the skies. Unlike some, Denon doesn't need to resort to the barrel of a gun to initiate or conclude negotiations; but if others do not abide proper decorum they can certain that we are not above responding in kind." It would seem some of those upgrades Ayumi had in store for their fleet might be put to the field sooner than expected. Those hostile vessels should pray to whatever deity they believed in Dominique never made that call; or if she did that the Republic Fleet somehow managed to beat Denon's to the field.

Sibylla and Aurelian could be the carrot to Dominique's stick. It was one thing to arrange for them to be falsely accused of assassinating someone. It was altogether another if they'd brought a fleet to lay siege -- in part or full -- of Wielu expecting any documents signed under such duress to be recognized. No one invaded a system adjacent to Denon without a response.

Not because they had a moral imperative, of course. It was just sound strategic sense. Why wait for them to invade your system next? Better the fighting be fought elsewhere.

She watched each of the Council members in turned before she turned to look at Aurelian. "If the situation is that dire, we should adjourn to the other room immediately." Time wasn't on their side to collect evidence, or bodies if the assassin had killed more than the inconveniently slain Councillor Durnas.

Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Mauve du Vain | Viktor Sylvain | Arcadian
Velok Brokentusk | Decarii Tithe | Annasari | Quinn Varanin | Arris Windrun | Davik Haize​

 

[Mauve du Vain]

Composure fractured, or appeared to, as voices droned on and on from the faces of those who were not covered in blood. The Republic were spiraling about the accusations regarding the Jedi murderer in their employ, diving headlong into the fine details. Good. Let them work themselves up into a frenzy about it. The more they protested, the tighter the net grew.

The grease fire of rumor blazed on, Mauve could feel it in the minds of the councillors. Doubt and concern thick.

"Hand myself over to the same Republic that just murdered a councilor in front of me, are you insane?" she shrieked, tears dripping down her cheeks "There's a killer on the loose out there - a killer you hired - and you are in here giving speeches about right and wrong and trying to extradite me to Naboo? I'll tell you what's wrong. Any further discussion about this."

She rose from her chair, her sleight frame soaked in scarlet. She pointed to it.

"While I'm wearing the blood of one of these Wielu councillors that your assassin sprayed all over me when he BLEW HIS HEAD OFF!" she shouted the last words, fingers balled into fists.

So tired of these fucking aristocrats and their long winded diatribes while there was shooting going on outside. So fearful of what awaited her if Wielu slipped through her fingertips and Velzari blamed her. Panic and adrenaline swirled through her and she felt as though she could no longer breathe.

This was not an acquisitions arrangement, with finely crafted clauses. This was not a board room meeting where executives gave highly detailed presentations.

This was politics.



Arcadian | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Viktor Sylvain | Cassian Abrantes | Annasari | Quinn Varanin | Decarii Tithe | Arris Windrun Dominique Vexx

 

[Rathmar Praji]

Despite being merely a few feet away from the entrance to conference room one, Rathmar had taken his time, for the Vigo of the Black Sun was not one to disrupt proceedings that were best left to professionals like Arcadian and the other members of the First Bank of Nar Shaddaa.

There was indeed a hint of doubt lingering in his mind regarding whether the High Republic possessed a superior grasp of commerce; however, he was assured that the Underlord had selected competent representatives capable of navigating the bureaucratic complexities and addressing the core issues.

The core issue was that the Republic did not have a centralized banking system and was susceptible to predatory lenders such as the InterGalactic Banking Clan and the Trade Federation of Planets. Given that the bank had only been recently established, their presence was sufficiently minimal to evade detection for the time being, which would be far more advantageous for the Planet of Wielu.

He barely entered the chamber in time as apparently a furred-creature Velok Brokentusk and Quinn Varanin were duking it out on who could cause the most damage to the venue. The smell of blood from Mauve du Vain was enough to wrinkle his nose as she clearly had gotten in a bloodbath with someone fairly recently.

"Let us not lose our temper, my friend." He offered a slim smile to the Zeltron before glancing over to Sibylla Abrantes , Dominique Vexx and Aurelian Veruna on the Republic side of the table.

The Lord of House Praji was a slim man with a sparkling robe that seemed to catch the light with a golden chain securing a white toga and cape combination that gave him a degree of authority even in light of the murder of the Councilor next door.

Speaking of them, "The death of the Councilor is a tragic affair but none of us here are experts on matters of assassination and any assessment would be considered negligence by the Planetary Police. Let them sort out this affair and we can refocus our efforts on the matter before us in Wielu's decision to either accept independence or remain apart of the Republic." He understood the game of politics very well from his rise to power on Ruusan and wanted to redirect any investigation attempt by hinting that their involvement would be considered conjecture and entirely inappropriate from a law enforcement standpoint.

"Naturally if the Republic delegation wishes to tamper with evidence by all means, the First Bank will not stand in their way but will point out such discrepancies and take the matter to the High Chancellor....." He took a seat at the table with narry another word. The ball was in the Republic's court now.

 

[Arris Windrun]

CONFERENCE CENTRE HALL
Engaging: Velok Brokentusk
Crossfire/Ally(?): Quinn Varanin
Other Mentions: Mauve du Vain | Arcadian | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Viktor Sylvain | Annasari | Decarii Tithe | Dominique Vexx | Rathmar Praji

Arris watched Quinn get hit by her shot. She had no idea who the hell this woman was, other than some kind of plus-one, which the cyborg had plenty of incorrect theories for.

The frustrated Talusian pressed the tip of her cigarra to the hot barrel of her pistol, igniting it, and brought the smoke to her lips for an impatient drag. She tossed it aside and spun the gun's cylinder to make things interesting. Then, she pointed and fired the gun again, which clicked harmlessly.

Lucky.

She holstered the gun and marched forward, unfazed by the deadly Jedi's weapon in the whiphid's hand. The scoundrel also found herself very surprised by the little blonde's sudden surge of power. For a moment, Arris swore the woman was on death's door.

Arris increased her speed and rushed towards Velok and attempted to kick his hip with one of her powerful cybernetic legs before he could fully rise. They were made for strength rather than speed, and capable of stomping with bone-crushing ease.

"I'm waiting for the count--you need to stay down," she quipped smuggly.

Spoiler: edit

Gdi I tried to delete the roll after deciding I wanted it to not fire anyway. It's gone now. Ignore it. Pretend it isn't there.

 

[Arcadian]

The room spun around Arcadian as a cacophony of chaos exploded and enveloped the council chambers. It began with the distinctive blast of a sonic gun, an uncommon but not altogether rare piece of equipment in the Underworld. The shot came from the adjoining conference room where Mauve du Vain had retreated earlier in the deliberation. Here she was now, stumbling back, covered in blood - and it wasn't hers.

"Republic," she panted, "Assassin. Killed Councilor. Durnas."

Cade's eyes narrowed bitterly. Thank the stars none could see it through his visor. They might have noticed he was spinning this unforeseen circumstance in Black Sun's favor...

"But while that's being handled, I'd advise we come to a resolution. There's no denying that a generous offer from the Bank of Nar Shaddaa looks appealing. But what good is an advance if it leads to instability? There are other companies I mentioned -- Rimward Logistics, the Trade Federation, Arceneau Trade Company -- they're not naïve. They've chosen the Republic because the Republic works. It's not a bet. It's a pattern."

"But what good are those credits when your streets are run by private militias? When the next financial disagreement ends in fire? This isn't just risk. This is destabilization."

"Rest assured if any unauthorized or hostile vessels remain in orbit by the time I get in contact with Denon, our planetary fleet will be dispatched to clear the skies."

"If this Republic of yours is such a safe bet, why must you rely on a corporate fleet from Denon to break a simple trade blockade? One that arrived peacefully, but was hastily identified as a threat by your untrained fleet. If the Republic is truly the pinnacle of stability, how has an assassin infiltrated this tower? Murdered one of your governors? These failures are a pattern. A falsehood. Fool's gold that tarnishes when weathered outside of marble halls. You see it now, before your eyes," Cade said, gesturing to a visibly shaken Mauve, her pink skin streaked with blood and sweat.

"You want to talk about investment? This entire farce is your risk profile. This is what you buy into if you secede. A world where the moment someone says 'no' to a deal, they vanish."

"You speak as if Wielu is under attack for refusing our business. You forget that no deals have been made. No agreements have been signed. Wielu has not asked us to leave. The Council has not denied our patronage. You accuse us - a banking clan - of exacting revenge for events that have not transpired. And we are the ones who cannot be trusted?"

And with that, the Nikto pulled up a handheld hologram projector and began to play footage. Footage from the Jedi Archives - the same Archives that Mauve had just recently acquired in their entirety.

The service record of Brandyn Sal-Soren, Jedi Master of the High Republic's Jedi Order, filled the conference room, scrolling until it honed in on his trial for murder. A sentence he never served.

"We aren't a theocracy. The Jedi don't run the Republic, they don't write our laws or sit on our councils. They are peacekeepers, bound by their own codes. The very code that sent his own sister to arrest him."

That made Arcadian chuckle. "And yet the Jedi Knight walks free, not only a member of your dogmatic order but a standing member of the Jedi Council. A murderer." Cade faced the Corpos then, head cocked with the weight of confidence in his stance. "As a member of this Republic, you are sworn to its legal codes - codes that demand recognition of the Jedi Order and deference to its will."

He grinned beneath his helmet. "There are Imperials who believe themselves 'peacekeepers' as well. We know these words mean little in theory compared to practice. What good has the Jedi done for your government? Were the NJO there for Wielu when the Planeshift removed your glorious world from Alliance space? Were the Shirayans there before they changed name and creed to pacify a frightened Mid Rim?"

Senator Aurelian Veruna was eager to leave the council chambers and investigate the room where Councilor Durnas was killed. Another curve in the winding road, and another fluke on part of the Republic delegation. "Now you mean to circumvent Wielu's corporate security to conduct your own investigation, Senator?" Cade asked, seemingly amused.

"Naturally if the Republic delegation wishes to tamper with evidence by all means, the First Bank will not stand in their way but will point out such discrepancies and take the matter to the High Chancellor....."

The Ubese nodded his agreement. Rathmar spoke wisely, not to mention far more... professionally. Cade's demeanor, while known for being composed and tactful, was not immune to wavering into the realm of frustration and sharpness.

"Who better to investigate a murder than the accused? Is this the same flavor of justice we shall face if extradited to Naboo? I'd have brought a flask had I known the Republic tasted like bantha piss."

There was still a commotion in the chamber next door, but Arcadian blocked the sounds from his focus. His attention remained fully on the deliberation at hand. Specifically, his gaze shifted to Viktor Sylvain of the CSA. "The First Bank shall remain uninvolved with the investigation. Preserve its integrity. But we should like to know the results of your findings."

"In the interim," he continued, "the Bank wishes to parlay further with the Council - assuming the death of Councilor Durnas has not stifled Wielu's desire to measure its independence against servitude to the Republic."

Undoubtedly, security lockdowns and corporate investigators would keep them all in place. The Republic may attempt to extract their politicians to "save" them from the threat of the banking clan's blockade, but that would only strengthen Black Sun's standing. If the Republic cannot defend Wielu's orbit, safeguard its leadership, or even remain present in the face of danger... then what can it do?

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Cassian Abrantes | Decarii Tithe | Dominique Vexx | Mauve du Vain | Quinn Varanin | Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique turned to look back at Mauve du Vain after her hysterics. "Dear, you've gone through a rather traumatic experience, purportedly, but you don't actually know it's a Republic assassin. Do you? You barely have circumstantial evidence backing your case. It's wild conjecture and hearsay. Why, you could be the assassin and just have easily have murdered everyone in that other room and we wouldn't know the difference since we haven't seen anyone else alive yet. Curious, no? Please," she held out a hand, palm facing her, "remain calmly seated."

Her eyes then shifted to Rathmar Praji with a smile. "You are absolutely correct, sir. Planetary police should cordon off the scene and take statements immediately. I'm afraid, however, that would put an end to this assembly and any notion of signing documents. How can we possibly haggle over the dead? How can we let business twist and erase the little facts that dutiful law enforcement officers will be relying on us to recount? Obviously, we should suspend matters until a later date after the assassin is caught and the true culprits are known."

Which brought matters around to Arcadian , no doubt the ring master of this little circus. Dominique smiled as the man rebutted their statements. Her brows lifted slightly, her chin nodded thoughtfully as he spoke. "Because they're our neighbors, and we protect our neighbors whether we have a financial stake in them or not," she replied. Much as Denon liked the Hutts, they and those in their orbit were not people persons. Well, not socially; they were certainly people-enslaving persons, but that only proved her point.

"Case in point, I don't hear you offering to protect Wielu. -- In fact, you claim a trade blockade arrived 'peacefully' as if that were a thing. -- And spare me the cry, 'we're just a Banking clan.' You have backers. They have armed forces to protect their interests. Not so much as a peep about coming to their aid; just more shit stirring. I admit, you're rather good at it, but I fear that's the end of my estimation of your capabilities."

"Furthermore, the First Bank has no interest in the results? They won't offer their illustrious services to find the culprit so we can find justice? I wager a financial institution of Nar Shaddaa would have quite the investigatory capacity in order to stave off embezzlers, thieves, and even those of murderous intent for people in positions of authority. How unfortunate. As I said earlier, the amount of Wielu's direct contributions don't affect our relationship. Even if they were to sign a deal with Nar Shaddaa they would still be our neighbor."

Dominque directed her attention solely to the Council, "Denon will be there for you. The Republic has been there for you since your departure from the Alliance. Finance and business opportunities we can provide. If there is an otherwise pressing matter to discuss, we will do so at the appropriate time. But, I fear, that time is not now in the wake of this tragedy."

Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Mauve du Vain | Viktor Sylvain | Arcadian | Rathmar Praji
Velok Brokentusk | Decarii Tithe | Annasari | Quinn Varanin | Arris Windrun | Davik Haize​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian stood still for a long, deliberate moment, not just reading from his datapad, but letting his irritation steep in his spine like expensive tea. When he finally looked up, it wasn't with anger or urgency, but that maddening blend of aristocratic amusement and casual offense. It was the look of someone whose garden party had just been interrupted by a drunken mime setting fire to their petunias.

"Thank you, Senator Vexx," Aurelian said, smoothly pivoting off her verbal blade work as if it were a springboard. "That was a generous and articulate response. I, however, am feeling a bit less measured."

He stepped toward the table, brushing imaginary lint from his cuff.

"Let me clarify the scene before us, in case anyone, has developed heatstroke and forgotten how we got here. We were in the middle of a negotiation. A real negotiation, with data, spreadsheets, and models. Then someone screamed 'Republic assassin!' like it was amateur night at the HoloDrama Academy, and suddenly we've all become unwilling participants in a mid-budget crime thriller."

He gestured loosely toward Mauve, not unkindly, but tiredly. "Now, Miss Mauve, who apparently cannot keep her story straight without rotating backup dancers, has bled across half the chamber, spun a tale of shocking violence, and still hasn't answered a very basic question: Who, exactly, is the killer? What did they look like? Where did they go? Do you remember their weapon, species, pants size?"

He turned to Rathmar, offering the man a half-smile. "And you, Lord Praji, suggesting that we, the accused, mind you, should just let local authorities handle the scene? Would you do the same if a Praji family member were gunned down at your boardroom table while the other party pointed fingers at you and handed out performance art in blood?"

"But what I really love is that now, finally, Arcadian decides to speak," Aurelian continued, giving Arcadian a slow, sharp sideways glance. "Not when there was blood. Not during the broadcasted Jedi trial. But now, when we're all sufficiently confused and exhausted. Now he wants to 'parlay.'" He gave an affected sigh. "Very considerate of you."

He glanced at his datapad again, arching an eyebrow. "Ah. And how curious. More updates from the Republic escort fleet. You'll all recall they were invited here in full transparency to prevent exactly this kind of circus. They're under attack it seems. Mynock activity? Jamming? Incoming hostiles?"

He looked around the room, one brow slowly rising like the temperature in a malfunctioning sauna.

"So, just so we're all aligned, we arrive peacefully. We offer economic support and security guarantees. We make our case through diplomacy. And in response? One of your councilors is killed. Our communications are jammed. Our fleet is under fire. And somehow we are the ones on trial here?" He turned to Arcadian again, folding his arms. "You call this child's play? No. Children try to cover their mess."

He turned to the Council, his voice dropping to something richer with that charismatic hum that could melt a stone or start a war.

"Councilors, you must understand... This isn't about numbers. It's about precedent. If you let this proceed, if you let a delegation get framed and silenced, and still treat the farce as legitimate, you're not making a deal. You're setting a precedent for surrender. Next time, they won't need to bring the jasmine."

Aurelian leaned forward on the edge of the table, his smile returned, all flash and fang.

"But perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps this is what you want your planet's legacy to be. Not independence, not strength, but pliability. A soft target. A bountiful, spineless little world."

Then he stood fully upright, clasped his hands behind his back, and gestured grandly toward the door.

"Let's go investigate the other room, aid the planetary police, offer up any assistance. Let's interview the surviving staff, look at entry logs, and identify the poor bastard who actually died. Durnas, was it? You know, the man whose body no one's bothered to check because everyone's too busy pontificating about Jedi and corporate guilt."

He circled past Mauve again and this time didn't look at her. "If you want to accuse someone of murder, Miss Mauve, the very least you can do is remember who was holding the weapon."

Dominique Vexx | Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Mauve du Vain | Rathmar Praji | Arcadian​

 

[Davik Haize]

Click.

Several blaster rifles rose in unison, cocked and aimed at the hatch. Its doors slid open with a painful groan and thick smoke spilled out from inside. A hazy silhouette moved inside the fog, growing larger with each step.

"Identify yourself!" the security detail sergeant barked.

The shadow continued its casual stroll forward, unfazed. Trembling hands twitched on multiple triggers. Sweat drops rolled down sun-baked cheeks.

"I said - identify yourself!!" the bark upheaved into a howl.

From the soot-laden, grey clouds, a man in a grey jumpsuit and a worn, brown spacer leather jacket draped over it, with its sleeves rolled up, materialized. Raven hair matted in sweat and blood waved against the salty breeze of the ocean, and a face bearing a hateful glare beneath it.

"I said—"

"I heard you the first time, idiot." Davik Haize cut him off as he stopped at the edge of the Duchess' bent ramp. His loathsome scowl scanned the area, then broke into a perplexed gape.

Eh?

Those pubs are as tense as a hyperdrive coil, and yet…

…the sun smiled. The breeze laughed. Someone was shouting about low-budget crime thrillers in the distance. Life was good.

Great, even.

"What the hell am I rescuing you from?!"​

TAGS: Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes Mauve du Vain Arcadian Velok Brokentusk Dominique Vexx Viktor Sylvain Decarii Tithe Annasari Arris Windrun Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

O B J E C T I V E - 1
W I E L U

Interacting with: Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes @Mauve Viktor Sylvain Arcadian Dominique Vexx
Nearby: Velok Brokentusk Decarii Tithe Annasari

"I am grateful to my colleagues," Sibylla began, noddding briefly toward Aurelian and Dominique. "They've spoken plainly and with the conviction this moment demands."

Her datapad vibrated again and her veins turned to ice once she heard the following:

“Skip, broadcast a distress signal. Hit every Republic frequency you’ve got - tell them their fleet’s ordering their evac and retreat, and I think they might be under attack by those Lucrehulks. Tell them…” he hesitated, then sighed. “Tell them we’re their exfil.”

Some exfil we are…

The slicer droid whirred and started beaming the comms as ordered on repeat.

“Wait, you said that too? I was just thinking out loud, Skip! I don’t know if they’re under attack, I just saw something explode among their fleet!”

They were under attack. This was a coordinated event. Had to be. It made Sibyllla think back to a time when it was Naboo who had to face simlilar blockades and what that meant.

Not here. Not now.

She took a deep breath and then panned her gaze to Arcadian.

"Parlay if you like," she said, her voice steady, "but let's not mistake theaater for truth. The facts of the past year speak louder than threats made to twist the narrative."

Her hand slid the datachip into the holoarray. A burst of blue light illuminated the room, casting numbers and transit graphs into the air.

"Stability. Tourism. Growth. Wielu survived being torn from Alliance space because it found something stronger than independence, a partnership. The High REpublic offered no ultimatums. No fleets hovering with loaded guns. Only support, trade, and security."

She stepped forward, letting the projections play behind her.

"We did not demand loyalty. We did not buy votes with blood. The Republic came with open ledgers. The Bank of Nar Shaddaa came with staged tragedy."

SHe glanced at the screens showing comparative growth on Denon, Loronar, and Antar.

"The proof, ladies and gentlemen, is in the data. In our goodwill. In thhe facts we've laid bare before you -- not in veiled threats, not in force."
Her eyes found Arcadian, cold and unreadable.

"You call this a negotiation. But if your answer to disagreement is assassination and sabotage... then I say this plainly: Wielu's future is not for sale."

She looked once toward the comms, another an alert flared. An evacuation signal.

But no, not yet.

She lifted her chin.

"But I assure you, we will not leave this lie unanswered. Let the record show who came with evidence... and who came with blood."

x | x | x | x | x | x
​

 

[Mauve du Vain]

He circled past Mauve again and this time didn't look at her. "If you want to accuse someone of murder, Miss Mauve, the very least you can do is remember who was holding the weapon."

"I don't know," Mauve snapped, rebellion shimmering in those violet eyes, "He was about nine feet tall, some sort of furred mammal, and wearing a trench coat and shooting with a giant sound gun so forgive me if the details escape me while I am sitting here in somebody else's last moments."

Even though she was lying through her teeth about everything else, the fact that these Republic politicos were so callous was actually incredible to Mauve. She was beginning to truly loathe them.

"Now go ahead and say you don't have anyone like that in your employ, or whatever other lies you want to prattle on about."

Not only did they not seem to care about someone's death, which was real enough, but they were turning it on her who, questioning whether or not it was her who had perpetrated it. Which, even had they known the whole truth, she surely felt a victim, coated in blood, feet slashed by glass, chased by some monstrous behemoth while Quinn was out there.

Any moment, Mauve expected her to come triumphant through those doors, wielding the head of the attacker as proof.

Her eyes flashed as she glanced at Dominique Vexx with disgust. "Victim-blaming, really darling? Even a cold-blooded investor like I find your lack of empathy astounding. Well, then, if the lot of you are as truly as devoid of morality as it appears, then there seems little reason for Wielu to remain under your yoke. All those taxes and laws. All those burdens in the name of justice. All a sham so you people can keep living your high lives off the backs of others, while sending Jedi murderers and assassins to do your bidding," Mauve looked at the Wielu councilors now, "Nar Shaddaa will see your returns soar, we don't come with the bureaucratic nightmare of the Republic, and - most of all now that I've met them - you won't have to deal with their pompous pretentions."


Arcadian | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Viktor Sylvain | Cassian Abrantes | Annasari | Quinn Varanin | Decarii Tithe | Arris Windrun Dominique Vexx

 

[Arcadian]

Baseless remarks and weak defenses fired off halfcocked like teenagers carrying blasters too big for their hands. That is what the Republic presented to the Corporate Council and to Black Sun. Arcadian shook his head, facing Aurelian Veruna with disdain - and a bit of disappointment as well.

He addressed Senator Vexx first, however. Saving the best for last was Cade's favorite part of verbally devouring his opponent.

"I wager a financial institution of Nar Shaddaa would have quite the investigatory capacity in order to stave off embezzlers, thieves, and even those of murderous intent for people in positions of authority."

... never mind that the First Bank was the financial institution of Nar Shaddaa ...

"Naturally," the Ubese said without fluff or gusto. "The First Bank possesses a robust security division that would insist on investigation this matter... were Wielu a client. It would be a gross transgression upon not only Wielu's independence, but its honor, to inject our personnel into an investigation that is best left to local detectives."

"But what I really love is that now, finally, Arcadian decides to speak," Aurelian continued, giving Arcadian a slow, sharp sideways glance. "Not when there was blood. Not during the broadcasted Jedi trial. But now, when we're all sufficiently confused and exhausted. Now he wants to 'parlay.'" He gave an affected sigh. "Very considerate of you."

A pointed finger jutted in Aurelian's direction. "Mind your tongue, boy," Arcadian hissed. "Perhaps if you spent less time wagging it and more time listening, you'd have time to form deeper thoughts than the witless chit you're spewing now."

"Let's go investigate the other room, aid the planetary police, offer up any assistance. Let's interview the surviving staff, look at entry logs, and identify the poor bastard who actually died. Durnas, was it? You know, the man whose body no one's bothered to check because everyone's too busy pontificating about Jedi and corporate guilt."

Cade glanced to Viktor Sylvain as he said spoke, remarking on Senator Veruna's sentiment without dignifying it with his full attention. "If it was not clear before, the First Bank of Nar Shaddaa fully supports Wielu's capabilities of conducting its own investigation - unlike the Republic," he said, words laced with venom, "who would insist that senators and royal throne-seekers do the policework for themselves."

"I don't know," Mauve snapped, rebellion shimmering in those violet eyes, "He was about nine feet tall, some sort of furred mammal, and wearing a trench coat and shooting with a giant sound gun so forgive me if the details escape me while I am sitting here in somebody else's last moments."

"You call this a negotiation. But if your answer to disagreement is assassination and sabotage... then I say this plainly: Wielu's future is not for sale."

A sigh of exasperation, then Cade shifted to command the conversation once again. He risked a move on the backfoot to wrest free from the Republic's dogpiling. "Perhaps until she has had time to process what has occurred," he said with a nod to Mauve, "my associate should be spared the scrutiny of your delegation... a delegation that, I must remind the Corporate Council, arrived uninvited to a peaceful board meeting after the Republic fleet opened fire upon our vessels."

"No blood was shed until after the Republic arrived. These senators bombarded our moot, grew fearful of Wielu's agency, and suddenly... Councilor Durnas is dead and our clan-ships are forced to defend themselves against a Republic picket fleet." He shook his head in disapproval. "But alas, the First Bank is not here to analyze the actions of business opposition. We are here to broaden horizons. Deepen pockets. Build bridges. Do not allow the greed-fueled fears of a Republic too weak to protect you from self-inflicted conflict taint your decision."

Arcadian shifted his gaze, panning the entire Republic delegation now. There were so sure of themselves, but he could see through their façade. Wielu was an artery through which an impressive flow of credits ran, yet this was the best the Republic could spare? A pretty-boy crown-chaser, a cloistered corporatist, and a girl? If the High Republic wasn't employing assassins yet, perhaps now was the time. They would surely need them should this deal fall flat.

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Cassian Abrantes | Decarii Tithe | Dominique Vexx | Mauve du Vain | Quinn Varanin | Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

OBJ:1
Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Dominique Vexx

The scene that was unfolding before him, was something else entirely. The General had readied himself for anything, and more things came to pass as their ship was now destroyed. His overlay from his helmet scanned the room and those before him as they engaged with each other. Lightsaber and various others weapons and Cassian wasn't going to intervene at the current time.

Cassian knelt in the corner as he gathered what information he could. Weapons at the ready, should they decide to strike out against him. He listened attentively to the feedback he received.

Running Facial Recognition.......

Running through known databases........


Images shown over his relay as several individuals appeared. One of them no doubt, was a bounty hunter. He changed frequencies as quickly as he could to reach Sib and the rest of them.

"Be advised, we have multiple hostiles. One of them is a confirmed Bounty Hunter."

This for all intents and purpose was not were he wanted any of the Republic Dignitaries to be.

"Stand down, I repeat stand down. In the name of the Republic." Cassian declared to those fighting, he would give a formal order. It would be something to attempt to control the chaos. That was just the thing though, chaos can't be controlled.


Velok Brokentusk Quinn Varanin

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian didn't react at first, not visibly, anyway. Mauve howled about fur and trench coats like she was trapped in a bad mafia holo. Arcadian spat his venom across the table like a snake wearing a tie. Aurelian just stood there, jaw tilted, his expression infuriatingly mild, as if watching a drunken opera fall apart at the crescendo.

His datapad pinged again. It was the Cassian message this time: "Multiple hostiles. Confirmed bounty hunter." Of course, there was a bounty hunter. It wouldn't be a Black Sun negotiation if someone wasn't getting stuffed in a carbonite slab by intermission.

Aurelian finally looked up, sighed, and smiled. Then he clapped once, loudly. The sound cracked across the chamber like a gunshot.

"Bravo," his voice silky smooth. "Really. The theatrics. The raw emotional spiral. The complete abandonment of dignity." He gestured lazily toward Mauve, who now looked somewhere between a blood-soaked performance artist and a bad dream about tax evasion. He really wondered what her boss would think of this performance, if she would even survive another day.

"And Cade," he added with a little bow in Arcadian's direction, "thank you for that stirring defense. 'Mind your tongue, boy,' was it? You truly had the room. If I'd known we were doing paternal villain monologues, I'd have prepared a more appropriate costume. Perhaps a cape. Perhaps some dramatic lightning."

He turned fully now, arms open as he addressed the council. "Let me, just one last time, cut through the smoke and perfume. Because what we have here is not a negotiation. This is a mugging. A polite, well-dressed mugging, with bank documents instead of blasters, and blood sprayed on the carpet to keep us from asking too many questions."

He stepped forward, his datapad still in hand, and tapped it for emphasis. "You want to talk about process, Arcadian? About procedure?" he asked, his voice rising, his smile sharpening. "Here's a process: Wielu never invited the Bank to sit at this table. They were contacted after the Republic began negotiations. The Bank inserted themselves, and then mysteriously, the room where a Republic ally was advocating for sovereignty ends up with a corpse and smoke. Not business. Not coincidence. Pattern."

He turned to the council again, his demeanor now cold, royal. "You've heard the numbers. You've seen the projections. You've watched the data hover in the air like the truth it is. What you are being offered by the Republic is cooperation. Stability. The ability to stand beside the galaxy's most prosperous worlds, not beneath them."

He pointed toward Mauve. "And over here? You have a woman who cannot decide whether she's a hostage or a herald, who has changed her story three times and still doesn't know if the murderer had fur, scales, or a corporate ID. You have a financial syndicate whose idea of diplomacy includes orbital blockades and misinformation campaigns." His voice dropped, knife-cold now. "You are being bribed with terror."

He snapped the datapad shut with one hand. "You're all clever people. You know this is a play for ownership, not partnership. You sign with them, and you don't get a future. You get a ledger, one you'll never stop paying."

He stepped closer to Viktor Sylvain now, lowering his voice so it carried with a cruel intimacy. "You know what I bet our 'picket' fleet is learning up there? That pirates and bankers are the same thing with different table manners. The only way out is together, not alone. You sign this deal, and your next council meeting will have fewer councilors and more 'representatives' in trench coats with sonic rifles."

He turned once more to Arcadian, giving him that dangerous smile again, the one that promised trouble behind polished teeth. "You said you weren't here to analyze our behavior, Arcadian. Yet here you are, obsessing over our movements like a jealous ex. We came in peace. You brought the war. And now that the blood's been spilled, you want to pretend you weren't the one holding the knife? Come now. You're better than that. At least pretend to have a spine."

He turned back to the Council one last time, letting the silence settle in the room like dust before breaking it with a final, soft-spoken truth:

"You can choose a future built on light. Or you can choose the shadows, and pray they never turn on you."

Arcadian | Dominique Vexx | Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Mauve du Vain​