Diplomacy Unholy Union: The Beginning

[Mercy]

GHORMAN, FREGO, BASSADRO, DAHRTAG

Meliant Madrona A’Mia Anet Raine Seris Velmora Kaelen Numetreus Darth Nefaron Taeli Raaf
​

The start of the unholy union always begins at the beginning.

The closest worlds to this new and unifying nation at the Core.

The path is free. It is open. Ghorman, Frego, Bassadro, Dahrtag. Together they form the bridge through which the Sith can descend down into these old ancestral worlds. They have been under the control of the Sith Order for such a long time. How will they respond to these new souls, descending on them? Will they open their arms wide, hoping that their enthusiasm will turn to profit?

Or will they stand tall, thinking that this is the day that they can shake off the yoke of the Sith once and for all?

It will be anyone's question, but the Sith'ari knew one thing very well... if anyone could puncture through and establish a bridge for the other Sith to descend into this void... it were the ones being send first.

Go forth and claim what you can. As quickly as you can. Bring to me these worlds and their allegiance, expand our territory until you are sick with avarice and your veins are running black with exhaustion.

Do what must be done. Make your Empress proud. Make me proud. Bring as many of them home and we will reward you.

This, your Sith’ari decrees.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

BASSARDO
TAG: Taeli Raaf

Bassadro was dead.

A barren rock, silent as the grave.

Miners still worked, but few would willingly call it home.​

Perhaps that is why the Corpse Lord selected it for a retreat, a home away from home where he might ponder the great mysteries of the universe. It was not difficult to purchase one of the old mining complexes along the Agao range for his own use, though he doubted anything profitable could be dredged up from this particular section of the vast chain of dormant volcanoes. Instead, he sat within what was once a meeting room for mining executives, now little more than an empty chamber with a vast viewscreen that overlooked the obsidian plains.

Of course he allowed himself some small comforts. A set of chairs facing outward to take in the view, a small table between them. A single protocol model droid stood at the rear of the chamber, prepared to offer refreshments should he wish it.

Yet he wasn’t quite alone.​

At first it was little more than a tremor in the Force, a minuscule thing he might have disregarded as mere turbulence on the ever-changing dark current he had submerged himself within. But that changed soon enough, for that tremor soon became a quiet power, a power he had come to be familiar with many times during the great conclaves of the Sith. He was entirely certain that she would have gone unnoticed if she wished, but instead she chose to reveal herself to the Corpse Lord, though it appeared unlikely she would come personally to kill him if that was her wish.

“The theatrics were unnecessary; you could have simply contacted me if you wished to speak with me.”

He didn’t bother taking his view away from the viewscreen; instead, he simply shifted back into his chair, a hand raised to beckon the protocol droid over to provide refreshments.

“So, have you come to insist I free my stock of labor? End the slave raids on outlying systems? Present myself before some auditor for my overdue punishment?”

All likely guesses, given his continued violation of slavery laws. They were quickly going out of style, as it turned out, but he knew all too well that no one held a grudge like a Sith could.

“Join me, if you would. No need for us to sling insults like children.”
​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Ghorman
Palmo, Ouvrel Museum
Tags: Anet Raine & Meliant

Though informal partnerships and alliances had been forming for some time between the Sith Covenant and the Sith Order, of late those dealings had grown much more formal indeed. Having just recently visited Ghorman on business with the Order (and finding a great deal of reason to personally invest) A'Mia was quite willing to make another visit so soon.

Various representatives from both groups had been put in contact with one another and for this particular meeting, A'Mia was representing both the Order but also her interests on Brosi. She decided to lure her newly knighted apprentice with promise of her own fashion oriented enterprise. Despite her envious attentions, A'Mia's own lofty ambitions were only peripherally involved with twill and its endless uses.

Her focus was rather singular: Ghorlectipods.

Clad in rich green robes with a large datapad in one hand, A'Mia drifted into the predetermined building. The contact she'd been asked to meet in order to discuss the convergence of Sith into one large, shared territory? Meliant.

 

[Meliant]

GHORMAN
PALMO - OUVREL MUSEUM

Attn: Madrona A’Mia Anet Raine

Meliant stalked the halls of the museum, pretending to thoughtfully consider the tapestries. There were a lot of tapestries. The Ghor loved them. Some of them dated back some thousands of years - those were the ones you weren't supposed to touch, but Meliant inspected them that way as well, handling the aged tassels with surprising gentleness.​

​

"This one."​

​

A dark-clad attendant nodded and stuck an ugly neon-green sticker onto it. Any work of art so-marked, was coming back to Coruscant. Looting was a family tradition, but whereas Meliant's unsightly family mostly blew everything up and took random trash, Meliant wanted only the good shit. ​

​

And here on Ghor was the good shit, indeed.​

​

More tapestries were marked in this way. This one was a contemporary piece, with geometric symbols arrayed in a dizzying pattern. "This one, too," he said. "Is the guy who made this still alive?"​

​

Someone glanced at a datapad. "She is, yes."​

​

Meliant gestured for one of his Night Legionaries, "Find her and pack her up. This is good stuff."​

​

The stormtrooper nodded and stormed off, followed by a few flatfooted army troopers. If you're important, you have a huge retinue, troopers and all. That's how that works. Meliant turned and saw A'Mia approaching - cutting a nice line through all the chaos and activity as things were packed away. ​

​

Curator. Had to be, or so he assumed, not having looked too hard.​

​

Empty eyes flicked A'mia up and down. "Yeah, her too."​

​

An attendant came forward and presented A'Mia her very own neon-green sticker. Curiously, he hesitated instead of just applying it. ​

 

[Anet Raine]

Location: Ghorman
Tags: Madrona A’Mia | Meliant

At first, Anet was offended by her Master’s assumption, but she couldn’t deny her desires. When A’Mia suggested that Anet get involved in the Ghorman fashion industry, the newly minted Knight only had to look down at her Acyolte’s robes. Beautiful though they were, she had her station to think of. Besides, she saw the obvious opportunity of utilizing the fashion sector in her other plans.

She arrived in tow behind the Neti, and had been caught up on their plan.

“The Emperor of Coruscant?” She mused quietly.

She knew of him by reputation. Well - she knew of him in passing, usually from the lips of terrified Academy students, who never dared to approach his wing of the Temple.

The half-pantoran quickly moved to the side when a handful of troopers stormed past her. They would’ve knocked her over had she not.

Anet balled her fists and huffed. “Crayon eaters.”

She caught up, falling in behind the Neti, then stepping up and beside her. She looked down at the offered sticker, then back up at the Emperor.

“For what, a job well done?”

The Knight had thought they were to discuss fashion. She looked at A’Mia again, silently expectant of some much-needed clarity.

Robes | Mask | Lightsaber

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Ghorman
Palmo, Ouvrel Museum
Tags: Anet Raine & Meliant

Twin blue-green pools narrowed, observing the casual nature with which the man pillaged — No, he was more a wraith wasn't he? Regardless, her dispassionate gaze soon sized him up in turn.

"Meliant, I assume," her long verdant braid whipped the hand which hovered near with that presumptuous sticker as the man it belonged to reeled back, startled.

Standing almost seven feet tall, she did cut an impressive figure and her lack of general adornment, her lack of even shoes made her stand out all the more. It was as if someone plucked a druid right from their grove. A'Mia had an air of ambition about her though that was unmistakably Sith.

"A'Mia Madrona, and this is Anet — my student and a Knight now in her own right. I see you've started… portioning off items of interest. So right to business then. I'm here to take over operations of the webberies, one and all. Anet is here to seize enterprise of her own. Aside from a bit of shopping, have you any particular claim you seek to make?"

 

[Meliant]

GHORMAN
PALMO - OUVREL MUSEUM

Attn: Madrona A’Mia Anet Raine

Meliant watched his sticker-boy yelp and jump away, gripping his wrist. Not happy about that. Not happy that braid lady was taller than him, either, but he could always get the armor resized. It'd be so easy.​

​

“For what, a job well done?”

Meliant's vacant eyes briefly passed over Anet. "Something like that," he said, ruefully. But when A'Mia introduced them both, he immediately forgot about the shady knight. If you didn't have a planet, you were basically just the help, and if you were basically just the help, then who cares?​

​

"I've heard that name before." Meliant tilted his head one way, sizing up the neti. "You're like... The lady-gardener of Korriban? I wouldn't have ever guessed."​

​

Mercy said to play nice with the Blackwall guys. Unfortunately, this was his idea of nice. And yet he was guarded anyway. Anyone who could garden on Korriban, that dusty little hellhole, was either really good at gardening or really good at evil magic.​

​

"We're doing claims now? Hm." Meliant pretended to have to think about it, idly scratching the back of a golden hand. A fascinating gesture from one who could not physically itch. "I guess I'll take Palmo. And the surrounding province. It's my style."​

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Location: Ghorman
Tags: Madrona A’Mia | Meliant

Anet didn’t quite appreciate being introduced as a student. Before she was ever a Sith, she had been a proctor at Shey Tapani University. A young one at that. Not quite a prodigy, but close to one.

Quite immediately, A’Mia and Meliant were rambling off to stake their claims.

She wouldn’t be left out of the running.

“I own a controlling interest in Hydian-Wyl.” More accurately, the Raine Family owned it. “Our shipping industry already has an active relationship with key suppliers on Ghorman. My interest is owning the fashion sector’s ticket off-world.”

Her plan was simple. Ghorman silk and high fashion were hot commodities. Just because the world now fell under Sith rule did not mean that buyers in the High Republic would suddenly feel so guilty as to give up their need to consume Ghorman products. Of course, she wasn’t going to lead with her plan.

Anet paused for a moment.

She looked at A’Mia. Then at Meliant.

‘Wait,’ she wondered.

Why the hell was he staking claims to an entire fucking city? No, an entire fucking province.

That wasn’t subtle at all.

“And just why are you so interested in Palmo?” She asked rather bluntly.

She hadn’t bothered with formality because - at least on paper - she was no longer an acolyte, and thus no longer needed to placate anyone’s sense of self-worth. And also, he wasn’t on Coruscant at the moment. Night Legionnaires at the ready or no, they were… negotiating.

Robes | Mask | Lightsaber

 

[Ceria Kesyk]

DAHRTAG
Madelyn Lowe​

Necropolis.

Ceria had heard of this world before, passed on the lips of spacers. An ancient tombworld and traditional burial place for the noble and elite of various hyperspace cultures since time immemorial.

A perpetual fog covered the surface, obscuring numerous crypts and mausoleums, but Kesyk’s destination was a beacon of Light that cut through the mist. A sacred tomb, known only to the locals as the Crypt of the Ancients.

Her gaze cast up, never reaching beyond the fog, but still her eyes settled on where the Tyranny was before she looked back to the Crypt’s entrance.

“This is idiotic,” she said, followed by the click of her tongue.

The native ruler had somehow won Mercy’s admiration, sparing Dahrtag total occupation. Much to the Vice Admiral’s annoyance. Because the ruler had offered her unquestioning loyalty to the Sith’ari and the Empress, in exchange for a small favor… That the Sith entered an ancient tomb and retrieved her ancestor’s brooch. It would be a simple task, indeed, but of course the conditions were less so. The ruler, a self-proclaimed Seeress, had requested two individuals specifically to carry out the task.

Ceria Kesyk…

…Madelyn Lowe.

The Vice Admiral eyed the stranger as they passed into the Crypt.

“You don’t really believe we’re part of some kind of prophecy, do you?”

She knew the Force was a powerful agent. She witnessed it every time the Tyranny crossed through the Netherworld.

It was one thing to face the dead there.

But here?

“All this for a brooch.”

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Ghorman
Palmo, Ouvrel Museum
Tags: Anet Raine & Meliant

Though A'Mia was fascinated with the armor-man-thing haggling with her, she feigned continued indifference and waved open the datapad. Upon its screen was Ghorman displayed in topographic splendor. She moved the image around a bit with a few rapid strokes of long, clever fingers before tilting the image to make it more accessible.

"Lord Seer of Korriban, Governor of Brosi. Though I've ever been much of a good lady, I do like to keep busy and agriculture is of particular interest to me."

Anet's immediate suspicion and preparedness to haggle made the neti smirk.

"The capital city does seem a hefty claim, particularly for a Lord already so occupied with Coruscant…" she mentioned absently, backing Anet's question through implication.

She zoomed in on the map a bit, tilting her head as she considered Palmo And the surrounding environment.