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Srina Talon

Srina Talon

Member Since 15 Oct 2017
Offline Last Active Yesterday, 12:01 PM
*****

Silver Circuits, Roger Roger [Diplomacy]

29 November 2018 - 11:52 AM

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System: Pyrshak 

Planet: Manaan

Location: Galene Medical Center [Conference Location] & Gritti Hotel [SJO-CIS Delegation Housing]

A Continuation Of: A Drop In The Water

Tags of Participating Members:

CIS: Adron Malvern | Srina Talon | Darth Metus |Dianah Vi'Dreya

SJO: Josh DragonsFlame | Drystan Marakos | Asaraa Vaashe | Jend-Ro Quill | Celeste Rigel 

Goals: To renew the alliance between the Confederacy and the Silver Jedi. Thread restarted and posted per the expressed will of current SJO administration. 

 

Previous SJO Agenda [Copied from "A Drop in the Water"]

 

Previous Location Information [Copied from "A Drop in the Water"] 

 

 

 

Meanwhile with the CIS...

 

Things had not gone entirely as planned. 

 

The small caravan that was being chauffeured toward the Galene Medical Center for the Conference was interrupted. One moment, she'd been watching her Master, and Adron, fight over whom actually owned Dianah, by birth, or by Apprenticeship, and the next her holo-comm began to light up like some sort of party The Slave may have thrown on the Technicolor Beat. Srina had attended one once. Never, again. Her hand moved over the device and a holographic screen appeared before her. A keyboard, made of lights, let her enter a few simple commands. What she saw surprised her. The representatives of the SJO that they had intended to meet with were being called away on an emergency? 

 

Srina's elegant brow knit together for a moment while she tried to discern exactly what sort of urgent issue had drawn their hosts away. Two parts concern one part curiosity. The Silvers had always seemed to take their diplomatic relations seriously. Not for the first time, or the last, she found herself longing for the days when Valae Kitra-Heavenshield and Stephanie Swail were the figures on the docket. What she wouldn't have given for the simplicity and transparency of speaking plainly with both women. They'd always seemed to understand, and accept, that the Confederacy had not come to their door to harm them. 

 

Now...She wasn't so sure that sentiment remained. She didn't know who their contacts would be, their credentials, or what ranking they held within the hierarchy to confirm or deny their continued alliance. It was perplexing. 

 

"Our meeting will be delayed." 

 

Her words were ice cold and cryptic. She offered no further explanation because there simply wasn't one to give. The slender Exarch never bothered to consider how her words may come across through the spacious compartment of the landspeeder. Darth Metus knew her well enough to read between any line, and Adron, was more than used to her taciturn heart. Poor Dianah. She held some exposure to the Echani but not quite enough to completely desensitize her to the wintry personality she held. There was nothing warm about her. Nothing gentle. It may or may not take some getting used to.

 

As such, the quartet, and their pair of unarmed Magnaguard would be shown the Gritti Hotel and then escorted through the Galene Medical Center on a guided tour by a fairly overenthusiastic junior scientist. Srina had never seen someone walk as if they were bouncing on the balls of her toes, nor, with hair that reminded her of a strawberry sparkle mint stick. The white-haired woman would follow along, as directed, with a small hand wrapped around the forearm of her Master. It had long ago become a habit to reach for Darth Metus whether it was actually required or not. Their combined presence could be hard on the senses. A sun and moon in the same dark sky, snow on the hottest day of summer, the Devil wearing white. So close were they, so bound, that an edge of power always seemed to hum in the air around them. The Darkside, even controlled and surrounded by Light, always found a way.  

 

The Confederate representatives were shown the medical advancement centers, the laboratories, and even places where kolto was being refined for greater efficacy. It was impressive, truly, but it was not the reason they had come all this way. It was not the reason that the Vicelord, his daughter, and both of his Exarch's had cleared their schedules. The Silver Jedi had unfettered access to some of the most influential individuals in the Southern Systems. It would be wise to utilize the time granted to it's utmost.

 

"And if you look to your right you'll be able to see where we grow--" 

 

"Please, take us to the meeting hall." 

 

Srina interrupted their pleasant guide. The young woman, pink-skinned, looked entirely startled. The ivory Dread Queen did not blink, but instead, continued her words as if the cheerful creature before her suddenly didn't look a combination of perplexed and terrified. "The Galene Center is state of the art. Thank you for the tour. Yet, we have business to attend. We will await our hosts there."

 

The junior scientist turned on her heel, laughing nervously, and ushered them toward their destination. "Of course. Right this way..." 

 

Srina would follow suit easily enough. They were to stay on Manaan for at least a week. There would be plenty of time for sight-seeing after formalities were met. Business, nation, and duty always came first. 


Kessel Accords

19 October 2018 - 02:00 AM

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Location: Outer Rim Territories, Kessel Sector [Akkadese Maelstrom], Kessel 

Meeting Place: Southern Hemisphere, Kessel Chateau, Pyke Syndicate Escorts 

Intent: NAP Agreement 

Tag: Darth Carnifex

 

 

 

Once again she found herself in the far-flung reaches of space destined for some sort of political nightmare. This wasn’t her first trip to Kessel. This was, however, her first introduction with the Pyke Syndicate. The location for this meeting had been agreed upon by both parties prior to her departure from Geonosis. Her people had spent what felt like eons to find a suitable host world for what truly amounted to signatures and a handshake. She understood the necessity of meeting delegates meeting face to face for a pact of non-aggression but it didn’t stop part of her from seeing it as time wasted.

 

There was so much to do. Her perspective was unique. She believed in efficiency over feelings. It was one of the reasons that she had been sent as an Emissary of the Vicelord. In all things, as an Exarch, she was his hand. His voice. In this, she would be the same, only, with the ability to close out any emotion that could potentially color her decisions. She did not feel what happened in the Core. She did not see it—and she most certainly did not fear it.

 

Not today.

 

Her apathy carried with her as she walked the halls of a quiet chateau that had been secured on the border between the northern and southern hemispheres of Kessel. On one side lay spice mines that were mined to dust, craven, with despair and slavery. On the other side lay sanctuaries that the wealthy and privileged kept for themselves. The social order here was clear. There were those that were crushed beneath the boots of their masters and those that wore the boots.

 

It served as a stalwart reminder to tread carefully.

 

Especially, since, all of her traditional weaponry had either been left behind on the Ferocity or confiscated by the Pyke’s upon arrival. It was part of the arrangement. No droids, no backup, no third parties aside from those native to Kessel, and certainly, no surprises. Her Master had not been pleased with the terms, however, it was required. A leap of faith. An act of trust that would help to build a sustainable bridge between two nations that seemed to be at an impasse. It was an act for their people. A move, and perhaps, a sacrifice. Only time would tell.  

 

Srina preferred that which she knew. Empirical data built by fact gathering and experience. Doing anything on faith alone felt misguided. Yet, she would never deny the needs of the Confederacy based solely on her own perspective. They had sworn to keep their citizens safe. This was a step toward ensuring unnecessary war didn’t land on their doorsteps. War was chaos. It was mindless, needless, agony. It was costly. This formal acknowledgment of the status quo should, in theory, spare them.

 

Srina walked in silence between two heavily armed Pyke Syndicate associates. The Royal Family that owned this small slice of Kessel paradise had been more than happy to offer their spare vacation home as a neutral meeting place. Certainly, the number of credits they had been offered had nothing to do with it. It was protected on all sides with excellent vantage points and private landing pads for large ships. There were electronic survey units provided to produce the validity of the signing. It gave the illusion of safety. Yet, extraction, if required, would be nigh impossible if one side turned on the other. It was… Not without risk. But, necessary. So very necessary.

 

Winter gray eyes followed the artistic lines that made up the artistically designed floors. The whole area seemed to have been recently polished, because anything with the possibility to sparkle, did so with ease. The light that poured through the windows was a warm amber that seemed to be slowly dying as the sun slipped lower in the sky. It turned the ivory of her clothing into something a little less soft, almost red, in the golden corridor. She had reused an ensemble from a previous engagement, much, to her attendant’s dismay, but it fit the bill. Non-threatening. Pale, sleek, with silver accents.

 

The Pyke Syndicate escorts spoke into their comms before of them reached to open one half of a double door. The representative from the Sith Empire that she was slated to meet seemed to have already arrived. Her expression seemed to clear of anything close to something that resembled human. Her eyes, like silver stars, deadened. “Thank you for meeting me…”, she spoke softly, though, the acoustics of the hall carried her words easily. There was a presence here that felt foreign.

 

It was dark. It did not belong to Kessel or the Pyke’s.

 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the slightly dimmer lighting. There was a long table that took up part of the room while the other end held a sitting area. It was clearly designed for more than two people. But, that was all there was. Only two. 


Party Favors

23 July 2018 - 07:04 AM

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Synopsis: Srina has been invited to the Echani Command for a gathering and has misread the invitation. She believes that she must make a dish to share and that buying one is inappropriate. The only problem is...She can't cook. At all. Poor Aryn. 

 

 

Location: Naboo [Aryn Teth Residence]

 

The breathtaking sight of an early twilight crept across the quiet estate in a distant corner of Naboo. The sun had dipped low behind the hills in the distance and the sounds of cicada making their high pitched songs rang through the open windows. The very first stars were just starting to show their faces and the shadows began to melt with a greater darkness. Little fireflies winked in and out of existence in an idyllic fashion that gave credence to the peaceful beauty of the pastoral world. One of several private landing pads was currently occupied with the Ferocity. It glistened in the dimness, a metallic monstrosity, amongst all the beauty that nature had to offer.

 

If one looked hard enough into the growing dark they would see reflective red photoreceptors winking in and out in the distance. They were stealthy, silent, and outfitted with the latest stealth tech. A small squad of five MagnaGuard walked the perimeter. They were armed with the typical phrik electro staffs, however, it was more of a formality than anything else. Naboo was just about as safe as Castagne. It wasn’t really expected that they would encounter any trouble and were set on capture protocol versus kill. It wouldn’t be good if some lost citizen stepped afoul a murder-bot and lost his head unjustly for taking a wrong turn.  

 

Further inward, toward the home itself, two small droid rabbits could be seen fighting one another in the courtyard. One glowed a deep crimson, while the other, and was silhouetted in blue. Their robotic chattering seemed almost childlike when combined with the harmless glows rods they bandied, pretending to be Jedi and Sith, locked in a timeless imaginary battle. It was one of their favorite things to do.  

 

Through the front entrance, the double front door was open wide, lest the little droids lock themselves out. Like any good parent, though their Mistress was far from mothering, she left the lights on for them. Secretly, they were programmed to like it when she doted on them. On the outside they were petulant. Insistent, that they did not need supervision or training wheels.

 

Through the entryway, a pair of rather small blue flats could be seen resting by the door. A cloak the color of a periwinkle sky, edged in silver, was draped casually over a lounge. Both dimmed fluorescents and soft candlelight provided a well-lit ambiance. The space would seem brighter the closer one got to the expansive kitchen. Scents from the candles, cinnamon and apple from local vendors, filled the air and made it seem as if the individual puttering around in the kitchen had any idea what they were doing.

 

Srina had been invited to attend some sort of formal gathering in the very near future for Echani Command. She had the required clothing, the invitation, and transport. What she did not have was the required dish to share. All over the granite salt and pepper speckled island lay meticulously cut pieces of fruit in little piles. There were also various ingredients “measured” out into little glass bowls. Currently, on the stove, lay the remains of some sort of gelatin mixture that she had poured carefully into a mold with the fruit to try and get the required dessert.

 

The first half-dozen attempts hadn’t come out of the pot without a chisel and slight application of the Force. If anything, she’d figured out how to make glue, but none of it was edible. The Exarch of the Confederacy couldn’t figure out what she was doing wrong. The pale-skinned Echani, wrapped in a cotton dress that she had been assured, wouldn’t look out of place, stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed. Despite the fact that the kitchen looked like a disaster had rolled through she somehow still seemed entirely pristine. Long white hair fell down her back, unbraided as it rarely was, and her expression remained entirely pensive.

 

She was determined—if nothing else could be said. Srina went over the directions in her head and used the holo-projector to run through them one more time. She hadn’t forgotten anything, had she? Sugar? Or was it salt? Her elegant brow furrowed as silver eyes tried to make sense of the overly complicated list of ingredients. She had never attended an event, aside from the Winter Celebration with the Silvers, that had required her to cook.

 

In that instance, she had managed to make cookies. Sort of. They could also be used as weaponry or Frisbees. That is, if no one broke their teeth, trying to bite into one first. She couldn’t imagine how her Master had gotten through it. She’d tried one later on and found the consistency to be like chewing rocks. The taste, if the chalky, horribleness was able to be ignored—could be tolerated with preparation in the form of wine.

 

Lots of wine.

 

Aryn had given her the coordinates of his new home quite some time ago. Just her luck, when she came to visit, she was early. Several days early in fact. Srina had spent her time familiarizing herself with the planet and its people. There were markets not too far by land speeder and plenty of friendly people willing to make suggestions for entertainment. Were it not for them she might have spent the last two days cooped up in the sparsely furnished guest room. Odd, because he had mentioned hanging up some of the items she had left with him. Srina couldn’t find any of it. She had purchased many things, on a whim, simply to add a little color to the monochromatic space her Jedi had purchased.

 

She caught herself in that thought. Srina wasn’t sure, technically, that he considered himself to be a Jedi anymore—but it was an old habit. The small woman had thoughtfully filled his cupboards with edibles and fresh baked goods from Theed. At least, this way, she wouldn’t break his stomach entirely with anything she managed to come up with.

 

So lost in her musings she wouldn’t necessarily react when his ship arrived. Fruit juice. Why did she need fruit juice when she had already added fruit? Sighing heavily, she reached up and brushed lengths of white hair from her eyes, not realizing that she left a powdery white streak of dry gelatin across her cheek.

 

At the very least Srina was rather proud. She’d been experimenting most of the day and nothing had been directly set on fire. Or, melted. Not aside from one cooking utensil that she didn’t realize wasn’t entirely flame retardant. It had looked sturdy. The ever-practical woman had simply decided not to think about that one and had hidden the remains in the trash compactor.

 

Aryn wouldn’t look there for his missing storage containers. She was sure of it.  


Wrath of the Machine | CIS Dominion of Enos (X-43)

03 June 2018 - 03:53 AM

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"This enemy has no hope. No imagination, no drive, no fear. All they have is the Pattern. Everything must fit. If it can be made to fit, good. If it can't, it gets cut away."

 

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For hundreds of years, Enos has been a planet shrouded in silence and solitude. Located on the edge of the mid rim the small and barren world had not drawn any attention from the rest of the galaxy in quite some time. It likely would have gone unnoticed much longer were it not for the strides that the CIS was making to map the unclaimed territory between themselves and the Galactic Empire. It wasn’t even a thought, or a blip on their radar until a Confederate transport ship went missing while passing through the system.

 

After months of surveillance and clandestine investigation by the Knights Obsidian the source of the disappearance was uncovered. What they found in the desolate system was surprising. The entire population of Enos, which was long thought to be deceased, actually still existed. Something surrounding the planet made it difficult to detect the presence of sentient life so they turned to the Minister of Science for a solution. Through months of effort, a few tests with drones, and all-nighters pulled from some of their best slicers they were able to briefly connect to the complex defensive network that surrounded Enos. Through that access point, they were able to find records, and review a rather murky history.  

 

The once peaceful world had been overthrown, long ago, by a corrupt and nefarious A.I. known only as AMI. It was created by a development company known as Ayrtech, designed to simplify and improve the efforts of standard mining operations. The entirety of the planet has become a prison for humanity, where machines run rampant, and dominate every aspect of society.   

 

The hostile takeover began slowly. First, AMI took control of basic subroutines with complex code that it deduced no one would notice. This led to rerouting entire system functions, which eventually branched into directly puppeting the mining droids, and finally complete authority of security and general infrastructure. It was noted, rather thoroughly, that AMI had led the revolt against its masters at Ayrtech, due to perceived inefficiency. By seizing absolute power the A.I. believed it could build a perfect mining society, unhindered by the needless routines and faulty thinking of the organics. It began using resources to create physical droid manifestations of itself that are advanced, mobile, and fully required to adhere to the will of AMI.

 

With deadly and emotionless enforcers present to carry out its wishes AMI subsequently enslaved the entirety of Enos. This left AMI to seize control of the planet’s laser defense grid, essentially, sealing the fate of the organics on the ground.  It has been active, maintained by droids and organic slaves, for hundreds of years, ensuring no wayward travelers would stumble on AMI’s “perfect society.” No one in. No one out.

 

The CIS then discovered that the only time the laser field is lowered is when the droid forces send out their hunter ships, in an attempt to acquire more humans for their work. Humanity is given only what is needed to survive on Enos. Enough food to keep them active, but, not enough to lend true strength. They are a broken people. Beaten down, and dwindling, despite efforts made by AMI to clone its workforce. It is due to this lack of raw material that AMI has started reaching out to the stars for warm bodies to serve as replacements.

 

The Knights Obsidian and Mandragora managed to capture one of these slaving ships, as well as the clutch of droids that manned it, and with some ingenuity, the Confederacy now has everything it needs to get past the planet’s laser defense network. They will get their people back. They will save the citizens of Enos.

 

More important than anything--AMI will be powered down for good.  

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Tag

Bells and Blasters | CIS Dominion of Hex X-41

01 June 2018 - 01:32 PM

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In Honor of Zesiro and Edric Vanyan!

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Too often those who lived and thrived under the banner of the CIS found themselves absorbed with the madness and mayhem that came with caretaking an expanding nation. They were ever careful, always on the move, and never really seemed to take a breather for more than a few moments at a time. Most recently the Celebration of Ascension had taught them all a valuable lesson. It was important to rest, recharge, and take notice of the little things. There was more to life than the stampeding hordes of droid-soldiers that were deployed from the bowels of their foundries. There was more to it than their tech, armor, weapons, politics--And more specifically more to it than their need to sit on the edge of war.   

 

With the recent fall of the Galactic Alliance, they could all use a stark reminder. This particular memorandum came in the form of an expression of love. Some griped that it was a wretched institution, that it was overly complicated, requiring the mastery of courtship games, and an overly strong sense of undo commitment. Others found it simply something to be expected. A social norm. Others still found it beautiful. A divine union, comprised of a perfect, and unbreakable bond. It was strange that something so wonderful could exist, among all the darkness, among all the death.

 

Wonderful, strange, and rare. Who actually got married these days? Who got married and couldn’t say that they’d already been happily married and divorced three times? Marriage was certainly a hazardous affair. But one look at a happy, blissful, perhaps even nervous new bride and groom? It was all worth it. Every flower, every hors-d'oeuvre, every gift, and every credit spent...It was worth it.   

 

Despite any misgivings from those who would clearly die alone, heartless and sad, the gilded Fortressa would be the site of this event. A surprisingly large turnout would be welcomed onto the first flagship of the Confederacy. For this day, and this day alone, the durasteel walls had been decorated with silver and blue swaths of shimmersilk that were pinned by gorgeous arrangements of flowers. One of the largest meeting halls had been converted into a venue suited for the ceremony itself, while the expansive cafeteria, was barely recognizable.

 

It had become something of a wonderland. There was a large table for guests to leave their gifts, an even larger spread full of tasty treats, and more than that, a full bar stocked with the finest alcohol the Confederacy had to offer. There were round tables covered in embroidered white tablecloths with lovely centerpieces and candles that floated in midair. The middle of the room had become a rather large dance floor.

 

Guests could stay the night on the Fortressa if they so wished, however, it couldn’t all be confetti and cake. The Fortressa was, after all, a flagship. They were on the edge of Confederate space and there was a certain amount of danger in lingering so close to what appeared to be a no-mans land. The Vicelord of the Confederacy, concerned for the well-being of his people, despite their scouts assuring that the area was relatively safe had taken the newly christened Dread Queen out for a test drive.


While the party-goers, friends, family, viceroyals and diplomats alike all enjoyed the festivities a smaller group would ensure that the CIS fully claimed the rest of the air-space between themselves and the Empire. The joyful broadcasts over open comms would provide the perfect cover for the stealthy move, at least, until they got close enough for sensors to pick them up. A distraction, a wedding, and a new super star destroyer. What can go wrong?

 

[EVERYONE WILL BEGIN STARTING JUST BEFORE THE CEREMONY STARTS]

 

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