Trouble in Paradise (TSE Dominion of Vaynai)

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]

The moment the Nezumi came on out a comm-relay went out to Saarai's office.

Hirou got his ride and by the time that several elevators brought him up, the Thirriken Sith was already pacing back and fro in front of the doors of his office. It might have looked a bit comical from a distance, the tail and dress sliding gently across the floor, his talons ticking against the metal with a rhythm behind it. Until Tai froze, when the last set of elevator doors slid open and revealed his friend. Lord Saarai studied Hirou for a moment, before eyeing the guards behind the Nezumi.

"Dismissed."

Once they were gone and they were alone in that hallway Fa would cross it towards his friend.

"You take chances, my friend." Tai said softly, kneeling down until their eyes met. "But I cannot argue with your results." Then and only then would his wings softly cover the Nezumi, pulling them in for a rare hug that Tai almost never afforded himself.

"If my High Inquisitor keeps running straight into the maws of danger, how am I to run the Saaraishash?"

The murmur against their fur before Tai pulled back to eye them up and down.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Aiya!! I’m not going!” Yasha said with a rough groan.





“Going where?” [member="Ambrose Mantis"] asked.





“[member="Alvarex Zambrano"] invited Yasha to Vaynai! A place of... contemplation and.... cardiovascular training... and...”





“Eh! Forked tongue, set behind thy teeth, you female fiend. We are finished here, Yasha. If you want to rejuvenate, you can… on Mandalore.” Ambrose took off his gauntlets and buy’ce, washing his hands and face before grabbing a ration bar.





“Wonderful, let the Mand’alor relax in the company of a married man.” Aiya pursed her lips and poured Ambrose a mug of water, handing it over with a slosh. Yasha groaned and shook her head, returning to reports of the battle’s end.





"I'm not going. The Rekr need support, they've been out there too long. Ambrose, look at these tro-"





Ambrose clicked his comm. “Mand’alor is commandeering our fastest ship to Vaynai.”





“Ambrose!" Yasha yelped.





Aiya grinned.

Vaynai


Aiya put the Mandalorian through a torrent of shower, and sleep in transit. The Panathan never ceased to amaze Yasha. It wasn’t often Aiya stayed away from Adara, but the Helan siege had needed someone to care for the troops at Command.





“How did you paint my toenails in my sleep?” Yasha looked down at the purple toenails, wiggling them in a pair of sandals Aiya ‘borrowed’.





[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] had clothing, which would fit. Standing in her own suite in the Treasure Pyramid Hotel (conspicuously beside Alvarex’s, Yasha grimaced to notice), Yasha zipped the white windbreaker to the top and popped the hood over her hair.





“I am not going out there in this.”





“But Ma’am, it’s a beach. A beach upon which the Royal Family vacations… there is no safer place in the Galaxy.” Aiya grinned, standing beside another Zambrano servant. Yasha raised her eyebrow and scowled.





“I want my armour. I am a Mandalorian, not some princess from Alderaan, I will not appear so…. ill defended in public.”





“You cannot wear your armour on a beach! It defeats the purpose. Trust in the security around you.”





“You mean in Kaine’s desire to have me join his son in matrimony.”





“Yes! That! Trust in that! He doesn’t want you dead before birthing healthy grandsons!”





Flopping down onto the (admittedly comfortable) bed, Yasha covered her face with her arms. “Not. Going.”





4 Minutes Later


Yasha dug her toes into the sand, set gold framed sunglasses over her stinging amber eyes, and searched the beach’s horizon...





… amidst the revellers, the surfers and sun worshippers, Yasha saw [member="Darth Carnifex"], [member="Invicta Zambrano"] & [member="Salara Zambrano"] chilling on the side.





“Nnnnnnnope! Not doing this.” Yasha turned around to Aiya swatting her back toward the beach.





“I will end you!” Yasha whispered, sauntering off back toward the beach, where Alvarex jaunted about.





“I have the invincibility of neessity, now go! Have that fun you’ve never realized you needed. And smile! You’re not in a war zone.” Aiya waved, delighting in the recent turn.





“Could’ve fooled me.” Yasha grumbled, watching three girls in shockingly small undergarments swoon over Alvarex. Yasha went to fiddle with the… Aiya called them ‘shorts’, but Yasha wondered what the difference was between these ‘shorts’ and what the greater galaxy called ‘belts’.





How did one say ‘hello’ to a God-Prince, whose Emperor father was lying half naked further off and whose buddies were enjoying what she could only imagine were cantankerous yet weakly defended drinking games?





Yasha punched him. She walked up in the offence to footwear known as ‘sandals’, cleared her throat, and punched him clean on the shoulder.





“… so you’re not dead… unlike one of Adara’s nannies in… ooooohhh how long does it take to get back to Mandalore?”

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE 3: Investigate rumours of a cult and take the shrine.
ALLIES: [member="Ronan Vizsla"]

Fett was... cunning. Perhaps Ronan knew him too well, though. Which, admittedly, isn't very much at all. However, far more than most of the Galaxy could say. To all, Koda Fett was nothing more than an enigmatic Mandalorian Bounty Hunter. Whether or not he was truly Mandalorian was up for debate now more than ever. Possibly an individual that masqueraded as one of their wayward warriors. He hadn't ever known if Ronan knew his was a Clone, what he truly thought of him other than tolerable. Those were the questions some may ask, but Fett wasn't an elegant master of the social crafts. Koda never questioned as to why they got along, he only knew that they did.

The Bounty Hunter took a step off of the craft, his booted feet kicking up dust within their placement. Surrounded by so many Vizsla's was a... strange feeling. It weren't too long ago that a deep-seated hatred for that people existed by proxy alone. His gripe was never his with them, but it was almost an obligation to despise anything relating to that of the Death Watch. Say it something to do with a legacy.

His mind ran elsewhere in the moment. It wasn't on this shrine or the potential cult. There were more than enough Vizsla Commandos to deal with it, that much he was certain. And so, it ran backwards to a previous thought. Who wants me dead?​ It'd have to be something done recently, but there was nothing drastic that came to mind. Those targets weren't exactly wealthy, nor were those that happened to be fond of secrecy.

It didn't add up.

 

[Sebastian Thel]

Location: Vaynai
Objective: Locate the League of Voss Backers
Allies: [member="The Slave"]

The drone of craft descending from a landing pad pulled Sebastian's eyes away from his computer in a moment of distraction. Around him, citizens of Vaynai ordered caf and chatted as he pursued the operation at hand. They were oblivious as he was persistent. Tilting his head, he took a sip from a takeaway cup of caf and turned his attention back to the code on the screen. A multitude of windows displayed live data being transmitted from undisclosed locations within the city.

Rows of blue code rolled down the front window on the screen as Sebastian's fingers moved across the keyboard. Decrypting line after line of text, he deduced redundancies and began to collect locations, as well as sources used by the organization. With a pair of brown, leather gloves resting by the screen, the slicer typed away diligently, having not noticed the light above the cafe door illuminated. The door beeped and opened, revealing the features of his contact within the Sith.

"Oh hello, I didn't see you come in." Sebastian looked up at The Slave as he spoke. The figure of the renowned young Sith shadowed his seated position. The slicer recoiled, exchanging one glance with The Slave before turning his head to face the wall.

"Please, sit down." Sebastian offered, extending a hand towards the chair beneath the opposite edge of the table. Whether or not The Slave accepted the gesture, Sebastian diverted his gaze back to the computer screen and set his fingers against the keys again. "I'm working my way into the backer database, most of it is still encrypted, but I found an interesting source leading to a terminal located within the city." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Sebastian spoke while continuing to navigate the database of the slick operation.

Leaning over the keyboard, Sebastian tapped away as he delved further into the labyrinth of code. Among the windows displayed on his computer, some contained data transmitting from the League of Voss' network, while other sources were being leaked directly from the slick operation. Working through the encrypted information, he decoded line after line as the data arrived. The terminal he had found was being used by the League of Voss as to store data surrounding slick. Operatives from both parties exchanged information at the terminal's location, which Sebastian had yet to uncover.

"This terminal is being used to store data by both the League of Voss and Slick operatives, they arrive at the checkpoint and leave information for the other party to receive." Cupping his chin in thought, Sebastian leaned backwards as he considered the revelation. In the window displaying the most recent message he had decrypted, he began to trace new information from the Slick database. "According to my sources, the terminal should be disguised as a machine intended for civilian use." He said as he scrolled down the window.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

Objective 3: Investigate rumors of a cult and take the shrine.
Allies: [member="Koda Fett"]

Ronan studied the lines for a while.

Went by the Commandos- exchanging greetings, hand clasps, in that moment one wouldn't guess that Vizsla was a blood hound that only cared about the next fight. Not to say that this wasn't what he was, but it showed either of two things. A willingness to shift or perhaps a change of demeanor when it was his clan.

Maybe both.

"You should ask me to capture you." Vizsla finally said as he gestured for them to move out. More than half remained at the landing zone. A long time ago he had learned that a smaller strike force was preferable, if it meant being a hundred percent certain they would have something to retreat to. These men and women would do just that. Protect, guard, ensure that if the need was there? They would be able to move back and get out of dodge if things turned south.

It wouldn't be his preference.

But Vizsla cared more for his people's lives than his hunger.

"If you want to know who wants you dead."

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE 3: Investigate rumours of a cult and take the shrine.
ALLIES: [member="Ronan Vizsla"]

Koda only walked beside Ronan. He didn't exchange greetings, he didn't clasp hands, and he didn't exactly cared what happened to Vizsla's clan. They weren't his concern, and neither was Clan Fett. Maybe it was once, but realistically it never truly was. Only a burden tied to his name, a role accepted begrudgingly through the premise of honouring the legacy of a man lost to time. It was fair in the moment, but in hindsight? There was never a role for a man such as Fett in Mandalorian Society. Ironic. Identical to a prominent figure, sharing all too many similarities, but never quite fitting the mould. Maybe things would change with time. For now? Koda Fett was an exile.

He'd almost scoffed at the idea, at least originally. Yet, the latter part of that concept seemed to make much more sense. It was through silent contemplation in which he pondered it. Did it ruin his reputation to be a dead-man? To even fake a capturing? Maybe. Then again, perhaps it boosts such a thing by killing the individual who placed it on your head, or better yet, ensnaring them in some trap and capturing them yourself. A superficial man. One would hardly expect it, and he never thought Ronan capable of it. They lived two very different lives.

"Make the claim." Fett replied with a shrug to him, his Carbine resting against his shoulder as the barrel pointed to the sky. "You'll be approached by someone." He further continued, only to add once more, "Set up a delivery, and I'll set up an ambush."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Objective: 3/4
Location: Vaynai Archipelago
Equipment: [ Tunic ] [ Shades ] [ Sith Training Saber (Zaboka) ]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSBBxm3yTr0​

​

While Jorah's parents went on the guided tour to the Isle of Rookoo, or Kookoo, or WhoDooVooDoo -- whatever the case may be -- the young Cathar and Zabrak ran free along the shoreline.

Dramatically spinning his blunted sword, the young Zabrak planted the training saber into the sand as he declared, "I claim this beach in the name of the Sith Emperor!"

Jorah ducked as Micah's blade-staff whipped past where his head had been just a moment earlier. Padding around in a slow circle around the Zabrak, the felinoid Sith Hopeful boasted, "Well, I claim this planet in the name of the Sith Emperor!"

Snatching his sword up from out of the sand, the Zabrak swung at the cat-boy. Micah deflected the strike aside, then used the momentum to strike at the other boy's feet. Jorah leapt over the sweep, bringing his sword up over his head so that he came at the Cathar in a very loose approximation of the Falling Avalanche maneuver.

Holding the staff over his head, the two children's weapons were locked in an impasse as they each pushed against the other. "Well, I claim this sector in the name of the Sith Emperor," Jorah countered flatly.

The Cathar's ears flattened back. This argument was escalating and yet getting nowhere at the same time...

Then a slow, Cheshire Cat smile formed on the boy's face, as his ears perked up on either side of his head as though they were the horns of the devil. "Excellent," Micah uttered appreciatively. The Zabrak just had a confused look on his face, as the Cathar continued and said, "You have done well... my apprentice."

"What!? Why am I the apprentice!?" Jorah demanded, somewhere between shocked and offended. Then turning a faint shade of scarlet declared, "You should be my apprentice!" Charging forward, the Zabrak shoved the Cathar hard enough that the kitten tumbled over backward, landing on his back on the beach. "Haven't you heard of Rule by the Strong?"

Picking himself up from the ground, the Cathar's ears flattened back as he threw his hand out in front of him. The Force rippled through his body, as the featherpush radiated outward toward the Zabrak.

Jorah saw the motion just in time to counter with a featherpush of his own. For a moment, the two were locked in an invisible stalemate, as the Force clashed between them.

Except Jorah was struggling, and Micah hadn't even blinked yet. Finally, a pulse seemed to surge from out of the cat, as the Zabrak was shoved over onto the sand. "Strongest, not thickest," Micah noted, as his tail flicked behind him.

Bending down, the young cat reached out to pick up his fallen zaboka.

Then fur along his arms stood on end. A chill suddenly moved up his spine, as gooseflesh crawled along his arms. Gasping in shock, the boy's amber eyes were wide for a moment. "Do... do you feel that?"

Jorah was sulking as he picked himself up. "What?" he asked dismissively.

To be honest, Micah wasn't even certain how to describe it. "I dunno," the Cathar said, rising back to his feet with the blade-staff held protectively in front of him. "Like there's something..."

He was going to say something watching us.

It was a darkness.

But the same moment that the Cathar brushed up against the feeling of darkness enough as to recognize it for what it was, the boy was pulled through the Force. He was vaguely aware of Jorah yelping in surprise, before everything went back to black.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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The Angry Ysalamir Rooftop, Vaynai​

Objective I :: Assassinate HVTs​

Contacting: [member="Omari Vyken"]​

The silent hunter waited for his prey.

As the heavy bass and various screams and cheers of party goers and their antics far beneath his position upon the rooftop filled the air, the Major had to keep his focus upon the target building. This place made him sick, the air thick with an aura of partying, drugs, alcohol and the constant barrage of music that played track after track of bass and every other 'feel good' genre under the sun. To most, this place was paradise but to Vestille, someone who didn't understand the concept of 'vacation' and everything associated with it, the very ground he had walked upon since his arrival felt alien and strange. Fortunately, he had no need to run into the locals out on the street view; thanks to Darth Ophidia and her granting of a stealth device, trying to hide the Major for stealth operations was no longer a concern, provided the area of operations didn't have a security system in place to counteract such devices.

In the place that thrived off sun, sex and the sea, though? It was highly unlikely.

Vestille had been watching and waiting like a bird of prey waiting for its meal to come out of its hiding place. Through the thermal scope, the Major had visual confirmation at least five humanoids. Hood up, wearing what seemed to be casual attire that mostly helped conceal his identity and backed by four security guards donning suits and their blaster pistols kept within their holsters. He knew that at least one of the potential six HVTs had turned up early yet with no real way to obtain a visual confirmation, the waiting game would continue and would not end until every card in the deck of the League of Voss had presented itself. This assassination, however, needed more than just one man. All over the hotel where the meeting was to take place, various agents were on standby, blending in with the general populace in order to keep their trap hidden until it was ready to be sprung. It was likely that whilst the key target would be eliminated, the rest would try to flee and escape down into the crowds below, making a covert take-down near impossible. The hotel owners, whilst having been paid, had been offered a lot more by the Sith Empire to keep quiet and let their agents go about their business, description kept by the silence of their tongues to the other guests.

Whilst in position, Vestille got in contact with the FOSB Agent that had been sent as lease. He didn't know the Agent all too well, only making note of his presence during the briefing but if this was to go not only smoothly but also act as an evaluation of the Agent's talents, the Major knew that he had a part to play.

"Agent Vyken, this is Major Thumahra. First of the six HVTs have made their entrance to the target location, expect more to follow. Request you relocate once your primary directive is complete to the Hungry Rancor hotel to assist with any potential escapees, you will be briefed further inside. Thumahra out."

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

VAYNAI
BYOO: Vacation time!

_____________________________________________________​

​

As Alvarex tried to grab the holo, Joycelyn made it float up from her hand with the Force, then back down into her palm. She positively exuded nonchalance.

"Oh fine, you big baby." She pretended to drop it once, then caught it "Here" at last, she handed it over.

The damage was done, and the blackblade prince was thoroughly frustrated with her. She did not want it to come to blows, but she did want him to remember it. It was all part of the games their family played, games that Joycelyn had for the most part abstained from when she was young. Now, well, it seemed she had some skill in it. Most of it she had picked up from the power-games of young acolytes in the One Sith.

"Thyne, what's with the sweater? You are going to boil." "Get that thing off."

She waved a dismissive hand, but seemed to be in a better mood than usual. Perhaps it was the moment of dominance over her brother, or the sun and the gentle breeze, or perhaps she was having some sort of mental breakdown. It was truly hard to tell. If anything, a good mood from Joycelyn Zambrano was an ominous sign.

"Now where is Linus with that drink?"

A cup of clear liquid, chilled with cubes of frozen water and decorated with a small leaf, was suddenly slipped into her hand by one of the hotell staff.

"Oh and, if a certain Miss Mantis comes calling, let her have access to my wardrobe." She sipped the clear liquid with delight, enjoying the fruity, bitter taste and the sting of alcohol as the hotel staff-member named Linus nodded and ran off to continue his duties. He was already starting to look ragged. "Delightful"

Time went fast on the beach. At least thirty minutes of lounging, perhaps an hour. Then she saw Yasha Mantis marching over to her brother and punching him. One of her black eyebrows raised as she put the straw of her new drink to her lips and watched closely. It was amusing to see the Mandalorian in Joycelyn's clothes, some too big, some almost too small.

[member="Alvarex Zambrano"] [member="Thyne"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: Beach; with [member="Yasha Mantis"]

Keira had made her opinion on the Sith clear from day one: if they still breathed, they didn't deserve to be doing it for much longer, and if it was in her power to rectify that she had no trouble doing so. She'd had more than one unfortunate encounter with their kind over the years, even going so far as to attempt to kill her then in-laws, now thankfully forever removed from the family tree. Mand'alor knew of her history, making her wonder if it was intentional that she be chosen to accompany the other woman to Vaynai, where they would no doubt be surrounded by Zambrano and their ilk on a near-constant basis.

Unless it was going to turn into an impromptu shooting range, it wasn't her idea of fun.

In contrast to the exposed figure of the Hell Wolf she remained fully armored, thankful for the temperature-controlled environment of her beskar'gam. Perhaps her T-visored visage wasn't the most conducive to friendly relations, not that she cared in the least. She was there to make certain nobody got too close to the other woman, and if they did, that they would be reminded quickly why that was a bad idea. Given their current company she had even less trouble with doing so, not that she would step out of line too far. She had enough discipline for that much.

Her armored figure followed behind that of Yasha, smiling beneath her helmet that her idea of a proper greeting was a not-quite-gentle punch to the shoulder. She'd made it clear what she thought of Alvarex after seeing the picture he'd sent, informing the other woman that she was better off not wasting her time with a Zambrano like Keira had made the mistake of doing. There were better men in the galaxy, and she would be better off looking among their own people.

From beneath her helmet she scanned their surroundings and the individuals gathered, marking out the Sole Ruler as the only friendly in the vicinity. She held the gaze of [member="Darth Carnifex"] for a few heartbeats more than standard, thankful that her helm rendered her faceless. Finally, her T-visor swiveled back to the man of the hour, and she remained silent, as was expected.

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Objective 1: Eliminate League of Voss supporters
Allies: [member="Vestille Thumahra"] [member="Omari Vyken"]

If there was any work she enjoyed doing, for her Master or for the Saaraishash, it was undercover work. Something about deceiving ones' enemies, luring them into your confidence or blending into the background of their cadre, was exciting. Perhaps it was her Master's influence rubbing off on her, considering all the work she had done with their Order of Shadows in the downfall of the Alliance. Lady Raaf was off on her own, relaxing elsewhere after the stresses of Asation, so Eldaah had volunteered to travel to Vaynai to assist with the operation there.

She arrived a few days prior, and succeeded in slipping into the entourage of one the Slick merchants helping what was left of the League of Voss. And by that, she had become one of three girls on his arms as he walked around the hotel, greeting guests and otherwise going about his business before the meeting.

"Agent Thumarha, second target is entering the meeting room," she muttered as the cocky Corellian Slick man led the way to the meeting. The state of the art comlink in her ear meant a whisper would suffice. She had stashed her lightsaber in the conference room where the meeting was to occur earlier. All that would remain was for the others to arrive and then... do or die time for these men and/or women.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Hirou was exhausted by the whole thing. Five years old- they weren't a pup anymore. So it was very nice to get travel arrangements, especially with how big the Song was. They passed off to new carriers several times on the way up, and a couple times Hirou found themself dozing off in a pocket or curled up in a pair of hands.

Going to sleep for a whole day, the Nezumi decided after the second time.

The guards put Hirou down at their request right before the doors opened however. They were tired, not injured, and Hirou had every intent of greeting their friend with the respect they deserved. They bowed after the doors opened, waiting for the guards to go their own way. For the first time in a long while, not being the first to scamper over to Tai Fa.

They hugged their friend back however, without reservation or anything held in reserve.

"I much rather would have been on the transport off, but someone had to do it." They said with a chuckle. "This time it was me."

Looking up, pink nose twitching in the air, Hirou didn't leave the circle of Tai Fa's wings.

"The information was useful then? I was sorry, lying to Matsu, but I still think it would have been a mistake for them to come after me at that time."

Hirou stuck their tongue out at them. "You don't need me to run the Saaraishash. I am the very smollest of parts." A wink. Then more somber. "But I am sorry for worrying you. That was never my intention."

[member="Darth Saarai"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

Objective 3: Investigate rumors of a cult and take the shrine.
Allies: [member="Koda Fett"]

A nod followed afterwards.

"Done."

Perhaps another man would have been concerned about filling a 'fake' claim on a bounty. It had the potential of ruining a bounty hunter's reputation, no? But Ronan Vizsla didn't give a chit. He wasn't a bounty hunter, never had been and never would be. He dealt with war, blood, ashes, nothing more and nothing less. That nobody would trust a claim for him again was not his problem.

"Approaching the site in five minutes," One of the scouts relayed across the comms. "Half a dozen sentries spread around the target. They haven't detected our presence yet, advise action."

Ronan mulled it while they walked in a steady beat.

"Leave a handful alive, kill the rest, take no chances."

Once they were inside they'd do their best to keep the occupants alive, but at the approach? Best to kill them as swiftly and silently as possible. The advantage of coming in unaware was not a joking matter.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]

"Immensely so, yes, we have managed to identify a score of rebel cells planted throughout the Empire."

Some had been carefully crafted, others... haphazardly, but with the Empire's focus on the former Silver holdings and their campaigns throughout the Core they had all managed to slip their notice. It wasn't something that Saarai beat himself up over. When you administered such a large swath of territory in such a short period of time there were bound to be slip-ups like these.

"Even so," Tai murmured while rising up and gesturing for Hirou to follow him. "You are indispensable. My friend. My sole confidant in a sea of sharks." Idiotic sharks that were more likely to bite themselves in the nose than anyone else.

The Thirriken huffed as they entered his offices and the door slid shut behind them.

"I will relay to [member="Matsu Xiangu"] that you are safe and well. I believe she was quite concerned as well." His head swiveled, looking over his shoulder and meeting Hirou's eye.

"I know it was not, Hirou, you did your duty. I am proud. But I have only a handful of souls I can trust.... who I can put my faith in." A shake of the head as he pushed himself off the floor and glided gracefully up, then down, until he perched on his seat. "While you did an excellent job at Gree, the Emperor..." Anyone else would have seen simple impassiveness.

But Hirou would know better.

There was concern and distaste there.

"-forged a ritual of the Darkside. A portal storm ravaged Asation and unleashed hordes of otherwordly creatures. It was a..." A pause there. "-lack of order."

 

[Thyne]

"Thanks." Sunscreen now in hand, he opened the bottle, giving the formula a little sniff before pouring just a bit into his hand. While his half-siblings of sorts continued to fight over the holo, he applied the sunscreen onto his face and neck, shaking his head every so often to jostle the stray hairs out of the way.

He froze as Joyce turned her attention to his apparel, as if sinking further into the fabric and avoiding eye contact would make him magically disappear. "Uh..it's soft? And it saves sunscreen?" He wasn't about to argue against taking it off, not after the last time he refused to change his wear on Joyce's command. Vacation or not, Joyce being in a good mood or otherwise, memories of last time were still fresh. Slipping the shirt off, he immediately wanted it back, even if taking it off was significantly cooler. His skin was almost blinding, a stark contrast to those of the more tanned disposition.

And now there was more surface area for sunscreen. Great. He poured more of the liquid into his hand, applying it as best he could to the areas within his reach - a considerable one, in comparison to most. He saw the hotel staff come and go, passing the drink to Joyce, not saying anything quite yet.

A good half hour later, he sat crouched in the shade, hugging his knee. He could still hear remnants of that voice caressing the back of his mind, beckoning his action, tempting him to return to the hotel. Biting at his lip, he turned to Joyce once more. "Can I try some of that?"

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Alvarex Zambrano"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Keira Verd"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Vaynai
Objective One

Interacting With: [member="Sebastian Thel"]
________________________


Maliphant nodded and sat where he was gestured to. Although he was a sith, he wasn’t so rude as to decline where an offer was made, brushing some of his hair aside as it bobbed in the bun it was in. Scratching his chin, he listened to everything Sebastian had to say; never interrupting.

A woman eventually came by, asking the silver haired sith if he’d like anything. He stopped, glancing up to her for a moment as he thought about it, only to respond with a smile;

“A cup of caf. Extra milk.”, he said before she walked off.

His attention came back to Sebastian as he moved on, eventually speaking up himself;

“So, do you have any idea where the computer might be?”, he said idly.

“I imagine they’re setting up a meeting soon with the influx of Sith related activity. Any mention of something along those lines?”

As the woman came back, Maliphant went quiet as he accepted the drink; offering her a few credits as a tip before sipping it slowly, the foam left on his lips licked off as he looked back to Sebastian.

 

[Darth Athora]

Vaynai
Objective: Beach Party

On one of many of the sandy beaches of Vaynai, a small group was gathering, clad in finely made bathing suits. At the center of them all stood a fancy new Grillenium Falcon. The chrome finish shined strongly in the morning sun. Just in front of the grill stood Admiral Zahori Denko, enjoying her much needed leave on the beach. She wore a rather revealing two piece bikini with a see-through skirt covering her bottoms. Several of the friends she had made over the years were in attendance to bask in the Admiral's company and have a good time.

It was going to be a fun day.

 

[Omari Ngao]

Objective: 1.
Treasure Pyramid Hotel and Casino


The stall door was closed behind him and the briefcase was used to crack over the head of his victim. After a few hits, the first stunning, and the next slumping them, Omari straightened out his suit before he set the briefcase down, taking out his encrypted datapad and a connector device, and then he set about searching his victim. Before he got too far into the search, he got an update from [member="Vestille Thumahra"].

Agent, he repeated in his head with a smirk crossing his lips before he shook his head, before his eyes lit up when he located the DataPad he was looking for and hooked it up, starting the download of information and replacing the two displays into the briefcase, allowing the data transfer to occur in the closed briefcase before he rose to his feet, reaching into his suit to take out a pair of stun cuffs and clicking it around an ankle before clicking the second around a wrist. Well. I hope whatever recovery agents the Sith got has a good laugh. And standing up, he collected his case and stepped out the stall, slowly closing the door so it didn't swing, giving it the impression of being in use before he walked to the sink to wash his hands.

Hearing the faint sound of a beep, he immediately headed out to the closest turbolift and opened the case once he was inside. Reactivating the dormant screens of the DataPads, he discovered what he needed right away, thanks to the system bringing the most recent information to the foreground.

Room 276.

And once he exited the lift, turned a few corners and did a little more walking, he was there, blaster pistol in hand, and he knocked on the door, the barrel of the pistol over the eyehole. "Uh, Room Service." As soon as he was sure someone was approaching, the faint vibrations through the floor. The slightest steps. They're moving away. He pulled the trigger, and on the other side there was the sound of something hitting the ground hard, and he swiped the identification card for the hotel's guests that he collected in his search from earlier.

Once he stepped in, he saw that the room was definitely in use. There were DataPads, even... Papers strewn about the room, and he drew out his commlink and raised it to his lips. "This is, uh, Agent Vyken. Zone in on my location. Ready for cleanup crew." And he stepped back out of the room, pocketing his commlink and raising his hand to his ear to trigger the embedded earpiece. "This is Agent Vyken. I'm on my way."

[member="Eldaah Aderyn"]

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE 3: Investigate rumours of a cult and take the shrine.
ALLIES: [member="Ronan Vizsla"]

"Nothing compromising." Fett spoke aloud, his battered, bruised, scratched and scorched helmet turned in the moment to face Vizsla's own. His voice remaining somewhat electronic due to the use of an internal microphone, otherwise reaching the equivalent of speaking into a literal bucket. After all, it was Fett's reputation on the line as well. Whilst Vizsla never truly cared for one, Koda certainly did. It was his identity, for beyond it he was nothing more than an enigmatic figure that shielded itself behind a set of Mandalorian Armour. It was even debated whether or not he was legitimately Mandalorian, and instead an imposter that utilised the armour for it's raw killing power.

​The Carbine that was once on his shoulder had slid down via it's strap, finding itself within Koda's clutches. Fett made use of his helmet's features, emitting a scanning pulse that filled his vision with a digitised, orange hue. Outlining objects, and the Vizsla Commandos.

It paid to be vigilant.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

Objective 3: Investigate rumors of a cult and take the shrine.
Allies: [member="Koda Fett"]

A snort followed.

Why Koda gave so much of a chit about what other people thought of him was beyond him. Reputation didn't matter, the people behind those thoughts were chaff and sheep that changed their minds depending on what angle the wind was at. That same Empire of Mandalorians went from worshiping the footsteps he took and kissing his arse to decrying him as dar'manda and back.

It was all a waste of time.

Either way though- "Your precious reputation will stand." Vizsla murmured back as his own visor scanned the horizon. The shrine was already slowly rising up, the sounds of his men taking care of the sentries filtering through their relay.

"We move straight through the middle. The rest will assume the pincer move."

It meant the most dangerous position would be up to them- the firepower focused on them, until his commandos got into position, but that was exactly the way Ronan liked it. More blood, more fire, these were the moments he lived for. The moments which made it worth going through the hell of politics, diplomacy and trying to build something out of House Vizsla.

"Now."

Vizsla broke into a run as the other Vizsla began skirting in a circle to surround the shrine.