A Sulon Safari

[Armaud Eden]

Eyes of deep green looked over the datapad of information, provided by the Sheriff of Sulon, as steam rose from the caf cup.

Raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, the Baroness was given everything she ever needed. Living in an estate nestled within the heart of Baron's Hed, Baron's Knoll, she has the sort of temperament that reeks of condescension and the implied flavorings of never being wrong. Her upbringing would have served better in the palace rotundas of Naboo or in the upper echelons of Bespin, where her ivory tower could have been as literal as the mentality she carried. But her great grand parents, being Umbaran entrepreneurs and real estate moguls, saw an opportunity in what was presumed to be a dying economy. And as they moved in, their impact was apparent and positive, initially.

Their family never integrated properly into the surrounding land. I presumed it to be a cocktail of poor attitude and their aberration to sunlight. Given the location of Sulon to both Sullust and the rotating star, it seemed the most logical answer. But with isolation came resentment, as far as what was seen between the current lineage and the families that live in Baron's Hed proper. Occasionally, while visiting the markets of Baron's Hed, you might even see the parting of traffic flow beneath large white umbrellas. It is fairly easy to spot a Higgin, which as far as I am concerned, isn't their original surname. But they made some attempts to assimilate into the census.


The current Baroness is the poorest iteration of this family by a large margin. Having strong ties to the current Commissioner, who has recently been accused of gaming the elections, she is afforded a certain debit towards lewd acts and general poor form. The sort of debit that can be repaid with donations during the election cycle. In that unofficial agreement, she receives certain distinctions in regards to pursuing justice. Parties of sinful nature, often spilling out into the streets, and the import and trade of rare and endangered species. One such case included the import of a trio of Morodin, for the purposes of safari hunts to the far East of Baron's Hed. I had intercepted that particular shipment and gave the Morodins an out, tending to the Ankarres Grove behind the homestead. But for every crime I prevent, another ten pop up. All of which can be tenuously tied back to the Higgins estate. Such as this one that I recently worked on - the import of several Arkanian Dragons, all of which involved their death via being chained up in the sun for long periods of time. This particular crime struck particularly close to home, given my own lineage.

I give this information to you not so that you can change the world. But so that you can understand how it works. I'm not going to ask why you asked for this report, which has since been marked as classified by the Commissioner - I have received several complaints as a result of it, a few of which were officially marked by elected officials. All I ask is that you don't tell your mother. I'd prefer to not be accountable for whatever actions you take, following reception of this information.

-G.S.

He was surprised, at first, by the informality of the requisite information. But more then that, he was surprised by the inaction. Sure, his Uncle was a formal official of the policing force on Sulon but first and foremost, he was a member of the Galactic Alliance and presiding Marshal. This sort of activity didn't look particularly good for the loose affiliation of order-based planets that defined the Alliance planetary conglomerate. But Maud was more for the trees than the forest, so he appreciated that his myopia might be biasing his initial reception.

Setting the datapad down, he scratched at the rough-hewn edges of a work in progress. Gabe called it a table but that was optimistic. It was closer to a slab of flat wood with some dowel rods sticking out of the base. Maud looked over it, appraising, as the twilight took over the farm that spanned outwards from the stone patio. An earthen fire-pit stood solemn towards the edge of the slate, where the canopy of white fabric ended and the sky began.

From his initial survey, quiet steps taking him into eavesdropping range of loquacious guards upon the Knoll, this would be a night for one of those illicit parties at the Higgins Estate. And would serve perfect opportunity to sneak in, relieve the estate of their various rarities, and get out while none were the wiser. Of that, a gaggle of Tikiarri, that were destined for a treacherous flight through the Western Savannahs. The young man couldn't stand for such a thing, fairness all but removed from the hunt.

But he wasn't one for technology and as far as he was aware, slicing would be the only way for entry. Loathe as he was to admit it, he would need his brother tonight. He just hoped his green skinned twin wouldn't stand out too much, removing any chance of a tactical approach.

[member="Destin Eden"]​

 

[Destin Eden]

One man’s need, another man’s curiosity.

At least that’s what Destin called it whenever mom arched her judging brow at him. ‘Curiosity’, specifically with information held hostage behind fearsome firewalls and toothed encryption protocols. Many a night had been spent pursuing these curiosities instead of sleeping, and from a very young age.

Suppose that’s why he always sported dark circles under his eyes. Or maybe it was a fashion choice – all black blended in just fine tonight, though.

Maud hadn’t asked for help, and his twin hadn’t offered it. He’d simply appeared.

His hunt for curiosities had him stumbling across a peculiar report shoved into the depths of SLEEG’s archives. Once he’d crept past the (woefully inadequate) defenses, Des had his hands full with a veritable treasure trove of reports. Not one, not ten, but classified files in the hundreds – from minor violations to full-blown flagrant disobedience, Baroness Higgins had run the gamut of it all.

Understandably, the boy was a shade of tired that made his skin rather conveniently paler than usual.

A cursory look at his brother’s holonet search later the following day was all Des needed to piece together the whole picture. Typical Mud. Oh, I’ll jump head-first into a lake of cement to save a plant, but I’m too stuck-up and stoic and uncly to ask for help, grr.

Because datapads were for losers, Des emerged from the house wearing only a sleek suit and a datalogger. Slender, home-built, specialized datalogger.

“You ready to go or you wanna stare at that plank for a minute?”

[member="Armaud Eden"]​

 

[Armaud Eden]

His eyes didn't leave the grain, even as Destiny moved in in only what he could assume was a onesie. Pressing calloused fingers over the rough ware, moving between tones of dark and tanned mahogany, he let out a deep breath. He wasn't wearing exactly the most stealthy garb, closer to a rogue with a smattering of buccaneer, he wasn't exactly in need of something that promoted subterfuge. Unlike his sleep deprived brother, Maud had found his way into folds of the force and entrenched himself in the ways of guile and visual manipulation.

Whether that was folding the force around him to conceal his presence, or simply learning the proper advantage points and uses of shadows, it was hard to say. But a certain light-footed gait and his casual disregard, made him capable enough, despite what he was wearing. Besides, he wasn't sure if he was going to need to make an appearance. Pass into the night or as a vendor, both vantages were covered.

"It can be a benefit to stop and smell the roses..." He looked over, circles of black beneath his brothers eyes that gave the onesie a run for its money. "...From time to time. We'll drive in from to Barron's Hed, put down at the market square near the ceramic gypsies storefront. Rest of the way we'll walk to avoid noise. One of Uncle's speeders should do."

He looked back towards the datapad and with a chug of the remaining caf, realized the thing wasn't responding to touch. He might have accidentally locked the screen but the obvious response was to smack his fingers against the panel several times. Once it fidgeted a bit, he depressed the metal button and the screen shut off. With a lift of his green woolen hood, he strode past his brother, walking along the perimeter of the house until he found the driveway.

It was a four seat speeder, no need for awkward travel.

[member="Destin Eden"]​

 

[Destin Eden]

“Whatever.” Black eyes narrowed. “That’s a stupid plan, Mud. Anyone worth anything is gonna be arriving by speeder. We walk in there and we’ll have every pair of eyes glued on us like… uh, like… ugh. Anyway we shouldn’t. Walk in.”

Des rolled his eyes skyward as his twin manhandled the datapad. Useless.

With a hurried step, he caught up to his brother, then overtook him to squeeze into the driver’s side. No way was he letting them get stuck in the driveway for the next fifteen minutes like the last time.

“Get rid of that stupid hood Mud,” Des hissed as he backed out of the garage, foot and hand working in precise unison. The speeder purred quietly into the evening, responsive under his touch. “I got us invitations so—” he waved at his clothes, “look the part. Or try. You know. If you can.”

[member="Armaud Eden"]​

 

[Armaud Eden]

"You got us invitations..." He shook his head. He knew his brother coming along would be a terrible idea but he didn't realize the magnitude of it. Des had all the smarts in the world but putting him on the street, it seemed to be a slippery slope - the sort that would have them sliding into trouble in no time.

He pressed his hand against the frame of the speeder, not needing to remove the hood. Because wind was a thing. Just like sunlight and air, things that couldn't be produced by the flicker of a computer screen. "Mother didn't hide you from sight when you were young. It's no secret where she lives..." He spoke more to himself than to Destin, who would likely have an answer for everything. "Green skin isn't exactly common on this moon." He looked over. "Uncle has been combating the practices of Baroness Higgins for as long as we've been alive. You must assume that the Baroness doesn't know who we are...and that the invitations weren't given with some exclusivity."

He laughed at the lunacy of striding into the party as if invited guest. Or any other fashion that didn't take form within the folds of clandestine natures. "You'll be made the moment you walk in. Or worse off, you'll see just what the nature of these parties involve." With all that holonet and late nights, Maud wasn't sure that was something Des was looking to avoid. Shrugging as they kicked up dirt in their wake, he waved a finger dismissively. "No. Drop me off at the market. Please."

Who said anything about walking right in?

@Destin Armaud | [member="Destin Eden"]​

 

[Destin Eden]

A look of dripping condescension was all he offered to his twin as Armaud joined him in the speeder. It was only with several miles down the dusty road that Des spoke again, squinting his eyes into the night.

“Like I go out— like Baroness Higgins mingles with the common rabble.” He shook his raven curls, slicked hairdo disheveled by the howl of the wind. “And like you know anything about elite parties. You clean the dirt off your shoes?”

The lights of Hed flickered on ahead, yellow pinpricks beneath a violet sky. The sun never set on Sulon – not with the volcanic pits of Sullust rising o’er the other horizon.

Des shrugged and pulled in just off the main square. In the mornings, they held the market here. Or so he was told, anyway – never been. “I’m sure you know best. Here’s your stop, Lord Mudstick.”

Mock-bowing in the seat, the twin sped off as soon as his brother was on solid ground. Pf. Fine.

Like he needed his help.

[member="Armaud Eden"]​

 

[Armaud Eden]

Mirialans weren't particularly common on the planet, especially those that looked the part. And while Des shunned the sun like a lash across the back, he couldn't avoid it when held by the hand of a Kiffar mother when he was young. Neither of them could, either by hand or paw, they walked guided through the rows of planted woods or raised garden boxes all the same. And when the time called, they traipsed through the market square.

"No, you are right." He stopped, scratching his nose as he watched the market grow larger and larger across the wind shield. "I know nothing of these parties. But you shouldn't underestimate the Baroness. She has done well to avoid punitive measures thus far." He shook his head, unsure of what mysterious panoply seemed to keep the woman at arm's length from anything even slightly resembling recourse. It couldn't be the Commissioner alone, could it?

The vehicle came to a stop and Maud offered a pensive pause, searching for whatever frail olive branch might rest between the two. "If she doesn't know your face, she assuredly knows mine. I may not know best, but I know I'll be made before I get through the door." He tightened the hood around the tucked dreads, opening the door as primitive shoes met the dusty terrain of the thoroughfare. "Keep your mind open, I'll ring when I get there. Uhh..." He closed the door. "Be careful."

The vehicle took off, the drought concealing the tail lights in thick debris the rose like smoke from a dry fire. Maud looked around, the center of Baron's Hed would have served for adequate burial grounds for the recently departed. Ghosts lingered, rocking in their chairs on creaky porches that looked across the span - clearing less than twenty feet. Not a young man was in sight, all but the least debonair finding their way up the hill to a party that would entice sin from the chaste and lascivious alike. At least, that was the way Maud had interpreted the rumors and grape vine discourse.

Casting a cool gaze upwards, he suspired for the waning moments before heading towards the elevated knoll.

[member="Destin Eden"]​

 

[Destin Eden]

It was Mud’s own fault for never listening to him. ‘Oh, I’m five minutes older, so obviously I’m wiser than you Destin.’

The twin made a face into the brisk night air as he started along the circular road that led around the hill to the baroque double gates. The Higgins were rich, and weren’t afraid of flaunting that wealth either – party-themed decorations lined the drive the further up he went, until finally he arrived at the tail-end of the speeders waiting at the door.

As if Des would ever go in with green skin and without a plan. Psht. But noooo, Maud was the smart one. Ha.

This’ll teach him.

With a smirk the younger brother reached into his suit (ill-fit over the shoulders, stolen from his father’s wardrobe as he snored on the couch). From its inner pocket he produced a fine, felt-lined mask in the shape of a roaring Arkanian dragon. The teeth were even sharp for effect, contrasting nicely against the white plastoid of the scales.

Yeah. Perfect.

Des gave a satisfied nod to his new reflection in the rear-view mirror before opening his datalogger with the invitation information. The guard at the door scanned the code at the bottom – pilfered from some Core-worlds entrepreneur whose flight had been mysteriously delayed – gave a grunt of approval, and waved him through.

Oh yeah Mud. You enjoying climbing that fence yet?

Did he forget to mention it was a masquerade ball? Oh well.

[member="Armaud Eden"]​

 

[Armaud Eden]

He took his time up the hill, verdant gaze strafing through the rare twilight for anything that seemed out of sorts. And if he were accustomed to the empty streets, which he wasn't, he may have been able to identify things that departed from the typical. But the whole scenario was unusual so he was left numbed to the variety that he had anticipated when setting out his plan.

He took the wide way around, giving the estate a charitable berth as he scoped out the perimeter. The reconnaissance included watching as Des moved into position and slid into the estate, free of molestation. Assuming it wasn't a ruse, assuming he wasn't charging into a trap. But Maud could feel it from here, pride in action and achievement would blind Destiny from the things around him.

Clicking on the Nightview macrobinoculars, he inspected the perimeter wall - though the vision was partially obscured by the blinding lights of the party that was held within. An outdoor affair, the noisy sort - the perfect type for people to sneak into without walking through the front door.

Climbing?

He shook his head, chuckling, as he pocketed the binocs. Walking quietly towards the fence, his footsteps were entirely silent - a practice formed through persistent steps in the forests and woods. As he approached the fence, which was more brick wall than anything else, he jumped upwards and landed silent upon the top. The estate was bigger than he thought, deceptive in size as it felt concealed from the exterior view. The wall ensnared the estate, was ten feet across and twenty feet high, and felt gaudy and unnecessary. Sulon had rarely seen the face of war though when the time came, this would be a formidable location, assuming shields could be erected to protect it from bombing.

He spotted roaming sentries upon the wall. Feeling the force well up beneath him, it shrunk to microscopic levels, as he focused an amateur level of Art of Small to conceal his presence. Stepping into the shadows, he made his way towards the first sentry - because that was where he believed controls for defense measures might be.

You look silly in that mask, just so you know.

[member="Destin Eden"]​

 

[Destin Eden]

Psht. Ain’t nobody looked silly in that moment except for the teenager sneaking through the dark up a hill just ‘cause he couldn’t listen to his brother for once in his life.

Rolling his eyes behind the mask, Des smoothly guided the speeder into a parking spot between two long-ass limousines. Peeeerfect fit. With a smirk behind that dragon, he got out of the vehicle and dusted off an invisible dirt from his suit. One last glance in the rearview mirror – damn he looked good.

Nevermind that the jacket didn’t quite sit right on his shoulders. In the evening lighting and the bustle of the party, nobody would notice.

He cracked his knuckles and skulked to the end of the scattered file moving from the covered parking area into the estate proper. There was another pair of bouncers at the door, re-checking the invitations with a scanner.

Des expelled a long breath, pulling up the document again. His mind was abuzz with the codex he’d run at the end of the night. He didn’t miss, anything, right? He was thorough, always.

“Invitation, please.”

Glad for the mask now covering his face, Des stuck out his arm. Black eyes narrowed at the device the bouncer brought up – it buzzed with a quiet red light. He could feel the sweat break out on his palms. He bit his lip, staring hard ahead in an effort to remember every last one of the tricks he’d pulled on this.

It should be okay. He was better than some third-rate encryption for a backwater like Sulon. He’d been better five years ago. This? This was nothing. He had thi—

“Welcome, Mr. Souchek. Enjoy the party.”

The man waved him inside, and Des disappeared into the mingling crowd with a sigh of relief.

[member="Armaud Eden"]​