You kids these days. [Protectorate/Fringe Invasion of Eriadu]

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge's usually pristine grey armor was coated with blood. The gold had been a figment of his imagination, his spear had merely been his usual halberd. It hadn't been hard to get a ride off Alderaan, after all the Republic had apparently rolled through in force some days prior. Now that was not what he'd expected when he'd come back from the other side. In fact, none of this had been what he'd expected.

He'd gotten the briefing on the jump to Fondor, and then again from there to Eriadu. The trade routes out here were well trodden, and the Lord Protector was afforded the fastest ships that money could buy.

Or maybe that was just his sterling personality backed up by his overly armed suit of kark-off.

He wasn't sure some days.

But as he appeared over Eriadu, one thing became clear. The Fringe were back; he'd not even gotten to clean off his armor yet.

"Leviathan. Lord Protector coming aboard." There was a lengthy, lengthy pause, some exchanged codes... and then he was aboard and flanked by an honor guard of his soldiers. [member="Uriel"] would no doubt be informed on FleetCom as to what was going down.

"Patch me through to the Fringe." He says into his helmet as his bloody self walks onto the bridge.

There was a pause, and once a connection was established the very tired voice of the Lord Protector spoke. "Get off my lawn."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

It was immensely clear to Ashin that her people didn't really want to fight the Protectorate. Not with the Children of Darzu getting everywhere; not with the Bando Gora coming back more numerous (if weaker) than ever; not with both sides' blades still wet with reaver blood. In the end, this came down to pride: who could do the better job of killing what needed killing.

On the bridge of the Chimaera, in the Thrawn-style command throne she'd used since this ship was built, Ashin seriously considered allowing Sarge's call to go to voicemail.

"Corellia," she said, precisely enough for the holocam pickup. "Denon. Go mow the grass by the sidewalk; the neighbours are here to trim the backyard."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Sorry, what was that about Denon? I couldn't hear you over being stuck in Hell for a week and a half. Let's go back to that part. Of all the times to decide squatting is a good past time, you wait until I go to Hell to do it. I'm not sure if that says more about me or you." He says, still sounding every bit as exhausted as he probably looked. Hard to tell with that thick tank of a helmet he wore.

Emotionless lenses and blah blah.

"Ya know, Ashin. I'm a bit concerned yer backyard is needin' trimmed. Yer wife finally get fed up? Tell you you weren't gettin' no more lovin' till the hedges got tamed?"

Off screen he was being filled in on Corellia. No one was talking about Denon. Whatever.

He'd find out eventually.

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Well, fair enough -- you and that armor would be the experts on sexual hygiene. And squatting, I suppose. Integrated waste management systems are the most finicky​ things."

The Chimaera's bridge crew, including the unflappable Captain Farnabas Engel, squirmed gently.

"We've both got better people to fight, we've both got constituencies who'd raise hell -- forgive my insensitivity -- if we backed down. I don't feel like dropping the rest of Obsidian Fleet on the Leviathan; it's sort of an unstoppable force/immovable object situation, and that never ends well. So here's what I propose. We find a contest of some kind, something suitable to Eriaduan cultural expectations. One that lets the Protectorate and the Fringe decide, fairly and bloodlessly and quickly, who takes responsibility for Eriadu while we both deal with more important things. I'm sure that's the most tantalizing proposition you've had since you last got intimate with a can opener, so I hope you'll find it amenable."

 

[The Spark]

A message would come across the screens of the Omega Protectorate Forces - It would list all major Medical Centers with burn units in the area.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Ashin Varanin"]

Spoiler

- http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Kaliida_Shoals_Medical_Center
- http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Emperor_Palpatine_Surgical_Reconstruction_Center

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Alright, alright." He held up a hand. "I know who I done slept with in the past, and I know I ain't the cleanest bloke this sidea the core, but uh, the kark does Eriadu..." There was a pause as his head turned, someone presumably saying something to him off screen. He gave a nod. "Alright, I hear the Eriaduans like urban sprawl."

"Know what that means?" Of course she didn't.

It could mean anything.

Yay rhetorical questions.

"You. Me. Building contest. I know, strange." He raised a hand.

"I'm sure they'd love this too. Something that exemplifies the faction it comes from. So like, if we were the Republic, we would want to build the best Jedi Temple we could manage. Or, I don't know our fifteenth Senate building. Alternative idea; best brothel contest."

As Sarge was famously covered in burns he took [member="Mira Gyndar"] literally, scanned them, nodded, and promptly ignored it.

 

[Allyson Locke]

"HA"

It was all that needed to be said as Spencer leaned back in the command chair playing the latest installment of asteroids. [member="Ashin Varanin"][member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

She took a long moment to collect her thoughts.

"A building contest? I'm not sure either one of us know a thing about creation, but all -- well, most -- jokes aside, that's not a bad idea. Better planetary defenses, space trains, hypergates, casinos, podrace tracks...I feel like we're missing something transcendent."

"That's a flat no to brothel, though. You have Kaeshana. Has to be a fair contest."

 

[Kronk]

One of the other people on the bridge stifled a laugh. And then they spoke, quietly, more to themselves then anyone else.
"My father wanted me to be an architect..."
The man, nicknamed Kronk, as apparently almost everyone these days was, still knew a lot about construction. If [member="Sarge Potteiger"] was inferring a design contest... perhaps he and his brethren could be of assistance?

Or they could just keep snickering at [member="Ashin Varanin"]'s jokes while secretly playing games on their data-pads. Much like a certain weirdo...

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave a bark of a laugh that wasn't forced in the slightest - she'd actually surprised him into a laugh. "The elves are good at being prickly. I guess I can't fault them that." He says dryly, "Knew I liked you for a reason Varanin." This time it was the Protectorate chuckling. Not out of humor, but out of knowing how much Sarge hated said planet and its inhabitants. Probably had something to do with being walking testosterone and them being, well, Men-Hating-Pointy-Eared-Freaks.

That was his opinion though.

He didn't share it with many although it was easy to figure out.

What Sarge didn't tell Ashin was that he'd helped rebuild his apartment complex following Omni's original invasion. "As it is only fair and I'm sure we're all tired... let's adjourn for a few days to allow time for rest and healing. How long is reasonable for you? I'm sure your people are just as tired as ours. And tell the woman laughing in the background I recognize her voice. This may not be a casino and she may not be in the middle of being accosted by you... but I'm keeping my eye on her one and the same."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Another good suggestion -- the wait, not me passing messages to my wife for you. She's armorsexual and I'm a jealous sort of broad. We'll hold position for...call it three days, long enough for you to make a difference down Coreward if such a thing sparks your fancy. Assuming that armor's left you a fancy to spark, that is. Let's take the time to think over our options, make sure the system's reavers are actually dealt with, consult with the leaders of Eriadu, and keep our people groundside out of each other's way. In seventy-two hours, we talk again. We bring in possible refinements of this particular idea, and we bring in alternate ideas if something better comes along. Agreed?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Consider it a deal, Ashin. I'll see you in Seventy-Two."

 

[Anya Venari]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Ashin Varanin"]

The Kaeshana Confederation’s representative, who happened to be one of their naval officers, could be seen glowering. However, as the Lord Protector hung up his call she made no protest.

For one, Sarge was about as malleable as a bar of cold iron, and any protest would receive withering treatment.
For second…well…they did kind of have a point. Though they preferred the term ‘Temple of Ardarvia’, thank you very much.

On the plus side it didn’t look like anyone would be killing each other, so that was a plus.

 

[Kaida Taldir]

[member="Anya Venari"]


Somewhere in the background Caerys Argente stood and felt, well, could an HRD feel bored? Well, perhaps about anything that did not involve mass slaughter and homicide. High-level diplomatic negotiations were taking place, the Lord Protector and the Grand Admiral wanted to hold a building contest! The fact that spilling blood over a planet might be pointless - especially when people were randomly vanishing by the billions - obviously escaped the HRD.



It was fun, but at present she sort of lacked a job. She tilted her head to the side, glancing over to the Eldorai representative. Caerys wore the face of an Angelii who had been killed more than a century ago. See, an exiled Princess had wanted a bodyguard and assassin. As it happened, Caerys' first job had been to kill one of the Princess' cousins because Eldorai court politics were something straight out of Game Stars. Including all the non-family friendly stuff. Which Caerys had no interest because asexual droid.


Anyhow, after having calculated the odds of causing a diplomatic incident and find that this would be bad for self-preservation, the droid stalked off somewhere. After all, not like she was really under Protectorate control. As she headed away she passed a broken statue of Siobhan Kerrigan. It had actually been built by the Eriaduans a long time before the cataclysm, since she had led the Pyre invasion that liberated them from Tarkin. Well, it probably also had something to do with the fact that at the time of construction she had just been elected Exarch and everyone knew how much that woman loved being the centre of attention. The Bando Gora, ever eager to elevate anyone competent at random mass destruction to godhood, had appropriated it as a shrine and human sacrifices to her. Caerys...may have totally accidentally blown the statue up while slaughtering lots of the chaos loons. Totally accidentally.

 

[Corey's OOC]

Touring of the world of Eriadu. Yeah. That was what Marek Starchaser really wanted to be doing with his spare time. But he had been in touch with his buddy [member="Jared Ovmar"] and the other man had pointed some worlds out to the casino tycoon that could use assistance during this time of crisis. With everything going on in the galaxy, it was the least Marek could do.

Hell, catering for the rich and catering for the poor and disheartened wasn't all that different. After all, it was giving food and shelter. Putting out feelers to come partners of his own, he was reaching out for some automated assistance. Hegemony style. And that was what he was waiting on now. He'd picked out a few pieces of real estate, and contacted one of the new construction craft that Bright Star gained in the past few years to assist with construction on their resorts, the ship was on its way.

And that was when he realized Fringe wasn't alone, and the people who turned Corellia into a SNAFU had arrived. He'd just lay low, while he didn't particular have an issue with the Protectorate on its own, merely Hat-Goat-Man-Thing, he didn't want to cause issues here.

People needed help, not more destruction.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

In many ways Eriadu was a planet of opportunity, highly industrialized with tons of real-estate suddenly popping open because of the rapture. People were gone and it didn’t seem like they would be coming back anytime soon and Irani was in the middle of it all - the Fringe had secured the planet, and now the Protectorate was back to try and reclaim their pearl, would they succeed? Who knew these days.

But there was one thing Irani did know, and that was that business would flow either way and his kind would profit.

Which is what he did, slowly discussing the status of a few valuable factories in a pristine location.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Dûvain egressed from the shadows, a living embodiment of- blah, blah, blah. All the usual boring, tedium. He prowled through Eriadu, looking for a bit of intrigue. A rather alarming number of contractors were being hired, both by the Fringe and the Protectorate. Not mercenary contractors. These were the sort that built things, tall things, squat things, abodes both humble and grandiose. And in such construction work it was highly likely for a crew to get rather terrified if a crane malfunctioned. Terror was amenable to Dûvain's palate, so he continued toward the Protectorate works, intent on slaking his thirst.

 

[Arage Bao]

A guy sat in a simple chair on the boulevard of broken dreams, all references aside this man didn't seem particularly intimidating, regal or strange in any fashion. Just a man sitting in the sun and enjoying himself, perhaps on a holiday, perhaps simply having a break from a long day of work, but that was only what it looked like.

Everyone knew that looks could be quite deceiving in their own way.

Blue eyes revealed themselves as the man looked up to the waitress, he grinned his disarming grin and replied.

'An appletini please.'

 

[Onith Trill]

"Orders Tactical Unit tee-ay-three-oh-two-three?" I ask, waiting in my 'barracks'. Protectorate ships have been spotted coming in, and I'm just not happy with that. Their nation and mine have skirmished before, and I don't want that. At least, not on my land. And that's exactly what Eraidu was listed as in my memory banks.

"Word from the higher-ups is that we're having some sort of . . . building contest. We build something and they build something, and whoever builds the better thing gets to stay." The tactical droid, my superior, says to me. Their is no confusion in his voice, Hegemonic droids are not programmed with such weakness-implying inflections, but I can hear the hesitation in his voice. He's a tactical droid, not a combat droid like me. He thinks, and he thinks a lot, and right now he's probably still thinking about why we agreed to such a thing. Personally I'm a bit skeptical myself, but it means I don't have to worry about any Fringe citizens, the civilians of Eraidu, getting hurt. But building stuff? How can a lone battle droid help with something like that?

You know what though? It doesn't even karking matter. This isn't about building, it's about showing the Protectorate who runs things around here.

"Request temporary transfer to combat engineering."

"Denied." The tactical droid's response is immediate. "The efficiency of a battle droid in construction is insignificant in comparison to the efficiency of a battle droid as a standing soldier."

"But-"

"Return to your post unit tee-ay-one-two-five-six."

"Yes sir." I say, but in my processors I'm pondering ways to get around him. The Fringe deserved every effort of mine to bolster it's success. Even if it's an inefficient effort.

 

[Not Ordo]

The young woman watched the stream of builders begin moving to one side or another and quirked an eyebrow. He emerald green shimmersilk garment was embroidered with silver across the breast and veil which she always wore in public. She calmly nodded to her handmaidens and rose to her feet. Her anklets tinkled like wind chimes as she walked toward the protectorate buidling grounds. She was sure an entertainment was due for the hard working men and women.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Ashin Varanin"]