Antebellum | CIS Dominion of Iktotch (U, 38)

[Adron Malvern]

O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport {Meeting Room}​

Objectives: Meet with the Iktotch Representatives​

Companion: Luscia​

Wearing: Black and Blue Suit​

Tags: [member="Alessandra Creed"] [member="Helly Reyne"]​

​

There was a brief moment where Adron considered Alessandra's words. The new Viceroy of Tatooine. His mind flashed back to Tatooine and immediately his expression seemed to shift. Tatooine had been the catalyst that brought the man into The Confederacy. It was his last tour as an Imperial Moff and marked the tipping point to his defection. In the next moment his lips spread into a thin smile as he realized he had elevated himself since then. For his wife to be to name the woman as Enjoyably eccentric caused Adron to arch a brow at her. So she was annoying.​

​

As the woman sat herself beside Adron and himself the Exarch inclined his head towards her respectfully. "Viceroy." A simple greeting which may have seemed curt but held consistant to his demeanor. It was obvious that the man was eager to see this meeting to an end. When the Prime Minister spoke, Adron paused to consider his words. With the droid armies returning there would be a rekindling of military might. While it may have taken some time the Exarch was sure it could be done. ​

​

"Your planet and your people will be safe." He began, placing a hand on his chin as he spoke plainly. "Prime Minister, your planet needs a military garrison and an active military starport. This will take time. However, The Confederacy protects it own. It is up to the Minister of War how and when your planet will recieve a full garrison but I can provide you with a military defense fleet. This will ensure you have some protection in the days to come. I trust this is acceptable?" Adron asked, curios to see how his proposal would be held. Though at this point it was not much of a proposal, this was how it would be.​

​

Adron looked to the others in the room as well. His eyes passing from the representative of the Eternal Empire to the Viceroy of Tatooine for a moment. If they had something to add, now would be the time. ​

​

 

[Ithiel Vi'Dreya]

Location: Hole in the wall restaurant
Objectives: Staring into a Mirror?
Post: #2
Gear: Grey Jacket with Hood, Black T-Shirt, Black Jeans, Filtering-Googles on as always. Some armorweave perhaps somewhere but not on show.
Weapons Under the Bar: Jacknife sonic concussion pistol(s) x2, his saber, and a scattergun laying holstered. Duel Vibroknives and a few throwing knives concealed.

Ithiel got a shine out of that bar that a force-god would have been proud of. It would be hard to tell, but every so often he glanced over his shoulder, like he was waiting for something, or someone.
Anyone with sharp enough sight could see the look was done at intervals of about 4 minutes, precise and controlled, like on a schedule. If they were able to spot the tell at all that is, because he wasn’t making it obvious. Turning back to serve the guests, not with a smile but a nod. In that turn of his body, there was a flicker of something catching the light oddly on his body. Very subtle.

He placed the glass up on the bar shelf, calm as you like. Looking at the reflection in it of who was behind him in the glasses. “About time.” He said under his breath. Turning around to see the man, who slowly pulled his hood back. The people at the bar stopped what they were doing, the glasses were put down, and every one of them froze.

The hood fell to show a man who looked just like him. Dressed much the same, carrying the same gear and the same setup. Then there was a staring contest, and a moment of silence in the bar, because everyone had stayed completely still. It looked like the two were taking the measure of each other, and both were waiting. The newcomer leaned in and looked right at him, face to face.

"Damn"

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Seedy Cantina​

Objective: Meeting A Friend​

Wearing: Inappropriate Exarch Clothing​

Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

---

For the first time that she could remember Srina was not required to attend the diplomatic needs of one of the newest worlds. No, that duty had been taken up by [member="Adron Malvern"]. She thought better of his constant distraction with [member="Alessandra Creed"] since he was essentially taking a blaster bolt to the chest for her. The meaning still held true, though, the Echani knew very well they both preferred taking a sword to the chest. Or to the back, depending.

With the burden lifted from slender shoulders, she found herself moving through streets of Ankhela with some vein of interest. Overall, she liked the Iktotchi people. They were hardy and didn’t seem to waste time with unnecessary trivialities that most of the galaxy seemed so obsessed with. Their buildings were made to last, not, for aesthetics. As were their clothes, their weapons, and even their horns which were capable of regeneration. To the untrained eye, they seemed gruff. Easily displeased.

Almost, xenophobic, though not truly.

Srina saw them differently. She didn’t see their oversized hands, leathery skin, or their apparent stoicism. Echani eyes saw well-preserved emotion. Care. They were respectful of other cultures and rather than to trample on the beliefs of others they simply watched. Waited. Once they had enough information, they acted, both based on experience—and likely their precognitive abilities.

For the diminutive Exarch, they were still too emotional by half, but their sensitivities seemed well-governed. She could respect that, even if, she did not agree.

The ghostly woman had allowed her attendant droids to handle her attire. It was not appropriate for weaponry, however, that did not mean she was unarmed. She merely chose to be creative with her options. The ivory creature wore a combination of deep, burnished gold, and crimson. White-gold hair was swept partially up, braided, and while the rest fell into silken waves.

Though her footsteps seemed idle she was currently following a missive from a friend. He had given her instructions to meet him at specific coordinates, however, this locale did not seem his flavor.

Nevertheless, a familiar presence pulled her toward a place she thought she would have found in the Crimson Corridor on Coruscant before the Sith destroyed the Core. It was not an establishment that she would have regularly frequented, however, she didn’t expect [member="Darth Tacitus"] to be here either. Yet, this was where her invitation led. Srina bid her ever faithful complement of Magnaguard to wait outside. Rather, in the shadows, and on rooftops.

The nightmarish droids made others feel unsteady thus stealth and discretion served them well.

She moved through the cantina without care. The Exarch was entirely out of place. Her aura was quiet, still, amongst a certain vibe that had started to spread through the patrons. Whilst they fled from her friend Kainan, Srina simply moved around them, barely disturbing the air. The pale beauty saw what she wanted them to see. Nothing more, nothing less. Mercurial eyes fell toward the hulking form of Darth Tacitus, surprised, to see him take hold of [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [Madalena].

“Kainan…”

Her voice would be a cooling presence though hedged with a subtle warning. There was a softness to it despite the fact that Echani eyes could guess how this would go. Scherezade had never seemed the type to enjoy her personal space being breeched. Regardless, from experience, she knew that Madalena did not remember her. She did not recall Monastery. She did not recall Haseria. If Madalena did remember these events, in which, Srina had both threatened her very existence and saved it?

It was statistically safe to assume would not remember Kainan either.

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

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Location: Restaurant | Tag: [member="Ithiel Verd"] | Dressed in Plain Clothes​

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__________________​

Naedira had nothing better to do on many assignments than to roll through records. She had passed a great many in her search for the missing pieces about the deWinter girl, however, it rarely seemed to raise any flags. Within the quiet restaurant. It did. The young Knight Obsidian was off duty and couldn’t help but maintain the posture that had been ingrained into her for the last few years. She had just received news from the Dominus, the leader of her order, that she would be receiving an Apprentice.

Punishment, certainly.

He knew that she preferred to work independently. A rather in-depth discretion had left her at the mercy of the wolves when reality suddenly changed. So, instead of wallowing, she found herself watching the taller male standing behind the bar. [[member="Ithiel Verd"]]

The closely shaved worker was familiar on a few levels. A former Knight? She’d spent the last hour rolling through the database to try and match his face. She had a mind for faces. Bone structure, the slope of the nose, the width of the eyes—Sharpness of the jaw. All things that could not be changed without going under the laser.

Just when she found him, just, when she found his face, his name, the atmosphere in the restaurant changed. Naedira looked up. Chocolate eyes swept over the room and she slowly began to push herself up from the booth. The hair on the back of her neck had begun to stand on end and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. Lengths of naturally tussled auburn locks fell to her waist as she approached, wearing a pair of leathers, a dark tank top, and a fitting jacket. It was just long enough to hide the sidearm that was nestled at the small of her back.

As she rounded on the man that removed his hood the fact that she was staring at identical faces set in. That wasn’t right. Ithiel Verd was still listed as a Pathfinder. She had seen no mention of a twin.

“Knight Darcrath. What is going on here?”

Obviously, something, for better or worse was afoot.

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport, Meeting Room
Objective: Operation: Assimilate
Attire: Colonel gala uniform of the Ultranaut corps

​

​

The Colonel didn´t know the three others yet, at least not personally, nor was he accustomed to this kind of diplomatic talks and would keep straight with his role as spectator and would only step forward and talk if he disagreed with anything or was directly asked. until the Prime Minister spoke, he was focusing on his own stuff.
Organising his sheets of paper, some blank for him to be filled with notes about what would be said here, some with advice and guidelines summed up by some of the diplomatic staff and he had ordered some protocols of past meetings to go through, before and after the meeting of course.

He looked up from his little paper apocalypse when the Prime Minister of Itkotch started to sum up the reasoning of why everyone was here. Halbrecht wouldn´t call it disgust right away what he felt when reading the objective, the request for the first time. These people wanted someone else to defend them, they wanted protection and security in exchange for some knowledge - whatever knowledge that may be.

When the Itkotchi finished, the Exarch directly replied to the alien´s words with the short but accurate standard procedure for the diplomatic assimilation of a system, planet or government. It was not unknown in the Corps that he had a great distaste as well as distrust for droids in war and was for one moment wondering why the Eternal Empire would not support garrisons, but he answered the question on his own by remembering his ealier thought of disgust - why defending someone who could not do it on his own?

Looking at Adron, he gave a very slight nod of approval before looking back to muster their counterparts and the Prime Minister, in search for any unusual reactions.

[member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"] | [member="Helly Reyne"]​

 

[Veronika Fleischer]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

​

Location: A cantina which she could not remember
Objective: Mingling with other CIS members
Wearing: A feminine red suit & Chrisyakova limited edition heels
Weaponry: Trusty lightsaber tucked inside her suit pocket

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] clarified that she did not know the name Pebbles or possessed any memory of anyone named after a piece of rock. Her name was Madalena Antares, a young woman who reached the rank of Pathfinder and merely possessed the same mesmerising eyes by coincidence. Veronika studied the raven haired lady intensely for a moment, her psychic mind casually doing a passive probe to see what else she could discover. Nothing intrusive, just a light breeze browsing through the surface thoughts if they existed. There was no need to be rude to someone who surely possessed enough Force power to deflect her curiosity. The blonde smiled, nodding her head in response to the greeting to offer hers. "I am Veronika Fleischer, Witch of Ryloth and a blessed child of Jart." As if on cue, her patron spirit squawked aloud in her mind, somehow glad that one of his favourite children still remembered to mention his name. Or perhaps Jart was feeling the irony of seeing one of his blessed daughters trying to speak to another whom he used to protect.

That was all the introduction Veronika made to give before a tall dark brooding man made his way through the crowd easily and stood next to the mysterious pathfinder. His dark looking claws reached out towards her companion's arm, forcing the raven hair woman to look at him. He called her Scherezade, a name which Veronika recognised immediately. Whoever the man was, he had arrived at the same conclusion as herself when he saw Madalena. Too coincidental, too convenient to brush it off as another case of a mistaken identity. Veronika cleared her throat slightly and gave [member="Darth Tacitus"] a nod. "It seems that you have reached the same conclusion as me when I first saw her, but her name is Madalena Antares and is a Pathfinder. Please to meet you by the way, I am Veronika Fleischer."

Before the tall man could even speak, the trio was interrupted by a soft voice belonging to a certain platinum haired lady who obviously knew Kainan and called out his personal name instead of one of his fancy titles. Veronika raised a single eyebrow at the current scene unfolding in front of her, knowing that the icy voice and white hair belonged to the Exarch while the burly man was one of the Sith Lords originally from the Ancient Eye. "Your Grace," she nodded, giving [member="Srina Talon"] the due respect with a proper address. The socialite was haughty but she knew when to play the social etiquette game correctly. "I did not expect you to turn up here. Since we have somehow all gathered in a drinking place, perhaps a few glasses are in order?"

The blonde turned her head to hunt for a waiter, but the owner of the cantina had already caught wind of the gathering and personally presented a collection of beverages in front of Srina Talon. "Presenting the finest brews and best selection of mocktails for our Grace and her fellow brave companions." Veronika smirked, guessing that the Iktotchi had tapped on his premonition senses to be this quick.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

Wearing: Obsidian type Strike Armor | Honey Boo Prototype Combat Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Hidden Wrist Blades
Location: Walking around, guard duty
Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Veronika Fleischer"] [member="Srina Talon"]

Mandragora. Madalena had not met any of the Witches yet, or at least, not that she knew of. But the mere mention of it sent uncomfortable shivers down her spine. Everything inside her fought to take a step back and put distance between her and this woman the moment she identified herself as being a Witch, being part of the Pact of the Jart, and yet, there was no logical reason for that, and she knew it. The Sithling kept her face as neutral as it had been before, not wishing to make the woman – Veronika Fleischer – uncomfortable in any way. If there was something about the Mandragora that was making her uncomfortable, it was an issue she would have to resolve on her own before she lashed out at others with it.

She was just about to say something when strange and unfamiliar fingers curled around her arm. Madalena was turned around, and by the time that little turn ended, a knife was already in her hands, aimed at the stranger's throat. Sadly, she was not above being taken by surprise. Fortunately, she was not one who panicked and froze when these unwanted surprises happened.

"You will release me right krakking now," she growled, her voice dipping low.

Madalena often screamed, either of anger or joy. She was a loud person, most of the time. But it was when her voice dipped low both in octave and in volume, that danger was present. The deWinter cold anger that she did not know of yet possessed nonetheless was as part of her as the glow of her eyes. If the man did not release her, she would show him what his insides looked like.

The tension was tangible enough in the air that one could cut it with a butter knife.

The woman confirmed her true identity and Madalena nodded. "Madalena Antares. Not Scherezade," she said in the same low voice. The joke, this practice joke, was beyond old. She had been with the Knights Obsidian for over half a year now, and while no one expected everyone to know who she was, it was ridiculous that people still called her by a name that had never belonged to her, that never would, that belonged to someone who did not exist anywhere.

And then a voice that she did recognize, though she uttered a name that she did not.

"Exarch Talon," Madalena said as she took a step back, pulling her arm forcefully back with her, and giving the woman who was nearly at the top of the Confederate hierarchy a respectful nod.

"Yes, I suggest the male buys us a round," she said coldly as she agreed with Veronika, returning her glowing gaze to the man who had apprehended her for no reason, "it will be a good form of apology after grabbing a stranger like that for no reason."

Realizing her knife was still in her hand, Madalena tossed it into the air and let it spin a moment before it vanished beneath her armor again.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

[member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"]

She pulled her leather jacket down as she slipped one arm and then the other into the sleeves. Mishel gave Shia an amused yet confused look followed by, "ah one of those, huh?" The Tygaran remarked with a smile and proceeded to hear Shia out when she mentioned something about living moments like this. "You look amazing, really I love this outfit and I know how much you love to dress up when you get a chance too." But. "I hate dresses, I wore them when I had to but to be honest I'd rather not so like I said. You and my sister can conspire and no I won't really like it but I'll definitely play the part." She gave her girlfriend a wink, and if anything she would choose whatever Shia seemed to enjoy her in more but clothes were never a big deal to Mishel not even as a Ren, in fact most especially as a Ren.

It went without saying that Mishel tilted her head as she watched Shia shove an entire 'mini' arsenal into her dress. Her thoughts wandered a moment before a ping from her sister told her to pick up stuff at the Spaceport. A simple text back to Alé: Just the Spaceport? Not the Ikotch Spaceport or better yet the Scratchy Crotch, man I oughta open a Cantina with that name. Oh, or the Ekki-Ekki-Ekki-Ekki Ptang Zoom-Boing, Z'nourrwringmm! Cantina, Spaceport thing... Too long? Too long. Right we'll pick up the access cards and meet you uh - well you have a tracker. Find me, also remember you're eating for two now so... let loose, go wild, get fat. Love you.

A muffled chuckle turned into a silly one as soon as Mishel shut the device down and placed it in her pocket. "Right so we're picking up access cards once we get to the Spaceport's front desk or whatever. Army of droids? She'd probably just want the blue prints knowing her- and my idea."

As soon as they were tucked away into the shuttle, "my idea starts off a little like this." The Tygaran pulled the Mandalorian in for a kiss.

 

[Helly Reyne]

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O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

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Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport​

Objective: Hear out the Iktotchi​

Tags: [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"]​

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Primetime. The meeting had begun.

After Adron's response to the Prime Minister, she recognized that he would likely take the reigns for the Confederacy in this meeting. He likely was the Exarch, given that he was taking the place of the Vicelord himself.

The request was a simple one, and one that Helly would have no issues agreeing to. While she didn't have any military might of her own just yet, she could at the very least back up the Exarch's claims that a garrison would befit their needs.

"We will, of course, be willing to hear out any apprehensions you might have about our proposed defense plan, but I do agree that a military garrison would be the most appropriate countermeasure to any would-be threats to your home and people. Do you feel that the danger is more immediately pressing than what our timeframe could ensure?"

There were always other methods of action, something involving a more magical or technical approach, perhaps something to take the enemy by surprise if they were expecting nothing short of a garrison. She had thought of more than her fair share of ways to get back at the Empires, after all. The fact that the foresight given to the Iktotchi people led them to Confederacy as their best means of staving off the impending threat only strengthened her decision to be a part of the organization. War was inevitable, but she hardly saw it as a war any longer. It was a fight for survival. The galaxy needed balance, not the encompassing darkness that would enslave them all.

 

[Ithiel Vi'Dreya]

Location: Hole in the wall restaurant
Objectives: Out Ithiel'ing an Ithiel, with [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Post: #3
Gear: Grey Jacket with Hood, Black T-Shirt, Black Jeans, Filtering-Googles on as always. Some armorweave perhaps somewhere but not on show.
Weapons Under the Bar: Jacknife sonic concussion pistol(s) x2, his saber, and a scattergun laying holstered. Duel Vibroknives and a few throwing knives concealed.

The first Ithiel turned and nodded to the Knight coming over, [member="Naedira Darcrath"], and eventually so did the second bartender Ithiel. He drew his eyes away from the other with difficulty. The real Ithiel didn’t have a force power to his name. The other, whichever one it was, was posing the part well. The real Ithiel, he didn’t know what was going on, drugged out of his mind as he had been, today was a blur.

His head felt heavy even now, and he blinked his eyes to try and understand. Apart from some time with the crusaders talking to the silvers in downtime, his duty, honor in battle, and service to House Verd had always come before force training. Even though both Ithiel's had a force signature, the level of their ability might be the only real solid clue if she even knew that intel.

Both stood their ground, nobody acting fast, measuring the other one. The imposter knew Ithiel well because he knew how to be him, not just look like him. It was freaky how well he had copied his movements. Even as Ithiel leaned in on the bar, gripping the edge, a concentrated but dangerous calm. The other Ithiel did exactly the same. Neither of them were fast to anger, and both didn't back down for a good few minutes. This was the kind of challenge that could test anyone, and both acted like that for awhile.

“No time for jokes. I have work to do.” the bartender stated, and turned away to get on with it, just like Ithiel would have done if he didn’t recognize her at all. Duty first.

The Ithiel opposite him turned to [member="Naedira Darcrath"] and shrugged, “No idea Knight, maybe we should take him in?” No mention of house or title, he simply charged a weapon and waited for her order. You could tell that sentence provoked a small reaction in the crusaders behind the bar if they were crusaders at all. There was definitely something off about them, the level of tension had gone up a notch, but nobody had initiated anything. She had stopped the situation escalating for now.

Who could she trust? The Bartender who was at work but looked suspicious, or the guy that just turned up at that exact moment, and wasn’t looking much more trustworthy himself.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #3​

Objective: Buy drinks for everyone​

Attn: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Scherezade DeWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

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• The Last Call
  A seedy little cantina tucked away on Iktotch

Within a fraction of a second, the girl had a knife pointed at his throat, something which he wasn't entirely surprised by, given her history of unpredictable reactions. Their last meeting had been when she had tried to drag his apprentice away to some kind of family thing, so he knew she could be a bit direct. He was not, however, overly concerned by it.

"I see some things haven't changed," the Sith Lord responded sarcastically, glancing down impassively at the knife as if it was inconsequential. She then introduced herself as someone else, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the Nelvaanian warlord. "Madalena? What are you up to this time, Scherezade?" he asked her, his tone that of an adult's questioning a child caught in the act of committing a prank.

Srina's tone turned his line of thinking around in an instant. There was something in her eyes and the way she greeted him that immediately put him on edge and sent his mind racing. An unspoken warning of some kind. She once more demonstrated an ability to tell him a lot of things with a single word and a glance. This was not simply another one of Scherezade's childish games, something else was afoot. Something more serious in nature.

And with her companion's introduction seemingly indicating that she had reached a similar conclusion, the Sith Lord could not help from growing concerned.

He made no effort to hold onto Scherezade's arm as she pulled back from him, in fact taking care not to accidentally cut her with his gleaming black claws, his eyes shifting towards the Echani woman's own. "Srina," he greeted her in return, a concerned look in his eyes that seemed to try to ask her what exactly was wrong with Scherezade. "Thank you for meeting me here," he said to her, a warm familiarity in his voice that was reserved for a select few and which most people rarely, if ever, saw him display.

Then Scherezade not-so-subtly suggested that he should buy them all a drink, in a manner reverting to a familiar rudeness that he had come to expect from her, by now. She never had been a socially graceful creature and always seemed to challenge those around to stand up to her, for some reason. Tacitus, however, was in no mood for such things and decided to play along, if for no other reason than he wanted to find out more about what was going on.

"I intended to, anyway," he responded to her, a dismissive cold in his voice. Attention shifting towards Srina and Scherezade's, his tone and mannerisms reverted back into the disciplined formality he had come to be known for. "Tacitus, Emperor of Nelvaan," he introduced himself using his Sith name. "The pleasure is all mine."

Seeing as she took the initiative, he allowed her to place the order, interrupting only to indicate he did not intend to have anything alcoholic. "Just water for me, thank you," he said to the waiter. He always did prefer to steer clear of any intoxicants.

 

[Srina Talon]

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Location: Seedy Cantina​

Objective: Meeting A Friend​

Wearing: Inappropriate Exarch Clothing​

Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

---

The response was swift. If she were a woman that gambled, or knew how to, she would have placed it to credits. [member="Scherezade deWinter"], Madalena Antares, was a paradox but the wintry woman could still read her physical reactions quite well. It was her mind that left the Echani at a loss. Srina was not the most adept when it came to emotion, feelings, or sentiment. Yet, she did know the intimate flavor that imminent violence presented.

If [member="Darth Tacitus"] did not release the well-endowed Knight immediately, there would be, violence.

It was a blessing that both parties seemed to freeze and step back at her arrival. The young woman never noticed why, though, she did notice the rest of the establishment returning to normalcy once the knife disappeared. Her own awareness about her person was bleak, from her appearance, to her apparent status. Many that were not of her Eshan thought her to be beautiful, exceedingly so, to the point of being referred to as ethereal. There was a touch of otherworldliness about her that was moreso due to her demeanor. No one seemed to understand, that on her homeworld, she wasn’t particularly special.

She looked exactly like her sisters, and her mother, and her mother before that. The Exarch was a dull representation of science gone wrong, and mostly, a case of extremely unoriginal genetics.

The patrons of the bar would not understand this. Kainan, despite their horns, and ruddy skin—seemed demonic. His claws were proof of that. Srina was something else entirely.

‘Do not provoke her, Kainan.’​

Her mind brushed against the taller Sith Lord with the grace of a breeze. It was a whisper, a soft prayer, and nothing more. When he moved back sufficiently from the two women she stepped into his personal space to let an arm slide beneath his cloak, and partially around his waist. Compared to his size, she would seem almost childlike, and a starkly different. The half-embrace was touched with more cordiality than she usually expressed though it was still quite business-like until she withdrew. He thanked her for coming and her head inclined…“You are welcome.”

Mirrored eyes fixated pointedly on a golden-haired female that accompanied Scherezade, silent, for the span of a breath. She had never understood the need to for honorifics but she did recognize why it existed. It took her longer than she would have liked to place the face of the spell-weaver, though, she could not be expected to recall every member of the Confederacy at a glance. They had met in passing once before but Srina did not believe that they had been introduced. She was lucky that she too had been blessed by the Pact of the Jart before the Nightmother took a mysterious leave. “You may both address me by name, Ms. Fleischer, Knight Antares. We are in an establishment where my shoes stick to the floor. Be at ease.”

Her suggestion seemed to entirely ignore that this looked like a place one of them might suffer an attempted robbery. It was a fine place to become a murder victim. Both women suggested a drink in some fashion or another and a ghostly smile crossed her lips when [member="Darth Tacitus"] seemed to visually recede back into himself. “I—“

She didn’t get the chance to elaborate because the owner of the bar arrived, as if on cue, to bring refreshments. There were a variety of options that were placed on the table and the Echani didn’t immediately know how to respond. She didn’t particularly like being referred to so formally, though, it seemed to happen everywhere she went. “How…Considerate of you. I apologize for the slight disturbance.”

The owner seemed to wave it off, perhaps, sensing that the danger was over. There had been no actual harm done.

Her focus fell back to Madalena, who still, expressed a measurable amount of displeasure. “Please forgive for the rapid response of Kainan, Knight Antares, but you must know by now that this is no game. You truly do resemble someone many of us once knew. He meant no disrespect.”

She moved to take a seat at the table that all the drinks had been placed at. The seats were higher than normal, and even that, the Exarch managed to lift herself into with a certain level of elegance. Truthfully she couldn't have looked more out of place unless she had arrived in the nude. It might have been an improvement.

“Let us be seated.”, the slender creature reached out, and gestured for Tacitus to sit beside her. When he did glacier eyes slid over a menu. She was actually a little hungry. “And our dear Emperor will purchase us whatever it is that we desire.”

“Now. What does one eat in a place like this?”

Her gaze would flicker expectantly between Madalena, Veronika, and Kainan. The drink that she chose was a curious one. Mostly, due to the fact that it was something she would have asked for, because much like Tacitus, she did not willingly imbibe. It was a plain fizzy soda with a mint leaf.

Iktotchi really were interesting.

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

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Location: Restaurant | Tag: [member="Ithiel Verd"] | Dressed in Plain Clothes​

Knight Obsidian files did not hold every detail on their ranks. It did not include that she tended to identify with flame, though it did mention her penchant for elements and her preferences for weaponry. It did list that she usually chose the most direct solution. She was an Executor. Finality was in her job description. Chocolate eyes flickered between them silently, focused, but watchful. With one of them most definitely being an impostor, naturally, she didn’t trust either one.

They moved the same way, reacted, the same way. Even reaching out with the Force didn’t help. She didn’t know the original Knight well enough to be able to discern his individual Signature. The auburn-haired female had nothing to compare it to, even if, there was any difference at all.

One of the men ignored her. The other focused fully on her.

Her gaze flickered and burning corruption started to bleed into the brown of her eyes, like fire, burning through paper. “Put that away before I take it from you.”, she breathed, slowly, referencing the charged weapon. Naedira was keenly aware that they were not alone. The entirety of the small restaurant was not only an audience, but, a potential threat. Many had visibly reacted to this situation. As skilled as she was, she was only one Knight, against Force knew what.

“If either of you moves to raise a weapon, at all, I promise it will end in regret.”

The intensity of her gaze remained constant. Truthfully, she ought to take them both in, and let the Dominus sort it out. Impersonating a Knight was something that @Cardinal Vi’Dreya would not take lightly. He was a serious man, with no time for nonsense, or foolish games. Not for the first time she wished that a certain Viceroy was present. Sometimes, it helped, having back up in the form of a warrior that was twice her size. It occurred to her when something in the pit of her stomach seemed to hurt, that, despite her bravado—she missed him. “Sit down. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Her hand rose and she ran her fingers through her hair while she tried to decide how to proceed. Eventually, she sighed, and the light faded from her eyes.

“Would it be too much to hope that the counterfeit Ithiel Verd would just admit to it without resorting to pulling teeth?”

 

[Alessandra Creed]

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O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

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Location: Ankhela Executive Space Port [Meeting Room] | Objectives: Negotiate with the Iktotch Representatives | Companion: Luscia | Wearing: Black​

Tags: [member="Helly Reyne"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] {Feel free to Join in!}​

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The Minister of Commerce could see thoughts rolling through [member="Adron Malvern"] as if he had casually begun to discuss his stream of consciousness. His every expression, no matter how small, meant something different to the raven-haired woman. He was a former Imperial. Whilst she had been born of Imperial-Governed space—they were very different. Alessandra had no desire to return home, aside, from visiting her family. Adron wanted, deeply, to take back Serenno.

It was understandable, however, they both knew the truth of it.

Adron handled the speaking, primarily, when it came to military application. Alessandra handled the finances. The two representatives that sat on either side of them were present for transparencies sake. It was easier to operate when there were witnesses to their treaties, especially, when it came to the acquisition of a new world. More eyes on the situation, generally, from level-headed adults was preferable.

She remained silent and opened up her datapad to take quiet notes. Everything mentioned had some sort of monetary meaning. [member="Helly Reyne"] spoke next, surprisingly, with a very logical response. The disparity between her outward appearance and language was strong, though, the end result was pleasing. Alessandra also passively kept an eye on [member="Efried Halbrecht"]. He had yet to speak, though, that was not necessarily his purpose.

The Minister had been to Nelvaan under the rule of [member="Darth Tacitus"]. She knew, aside from the bitter cold, the strict belief system that he instilled in his people. She had little doubt that this representative would think that they were practicing an act of futile charity. It took many a great deal to understand that few, single worlds, could afford a naval fleet capable of stopping an occupation from another full-fledged nation. It wasn’t a lack of strength, determination, courage, or will.

It was a lack of resources.

“As per our standard contracts with every new member world, there will be a light annual tax to be paid to the Confederacy. It is calculated based on the means and profitability of your planet.”, the Minister of Commerce spoke up, keeping her gaze level, and indomitable. No one liked to be reminded that they would need to part with hard earned credits. Her wording was deliberate. The Confederacy did not gouge their member words. They only requested what they could reasonably spare. And why? “These funds are utilized to feed, house, arm, replenish and or repair the military forces we extend to you.”

“You will also be appointed a Viceroy to speak for you, should, you not have a nomination of your own.”

She quieted to await a response, briefly, tapping a few more notes into her datapad. Her office had already crunched all of the numbers necessary to come up with the appropriate details. Dark eyes swept over the room, expression professional, though crimson lips remained set in a natural curve. There wasn’t much to question here. They had what the Iktotchi needed. They had intel that the Confederacy could make good use of.

It didn’t take a genius to see that they wouldn’t be leaving without an agreement in place.

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport, Meeting Room
Objective: Operation: Assimilate
Attire: Colonel gala uniform of the Ultranaut corps

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Voice Sample​

Patiently listening to the three Confederate representatives, Halbrecht made himself some notes, his pen gliding over the paper in a light, very unusual sound. It is very uncommon to see someone using actual paper and ink still, but he had his habits. words should be carved in stone to support their meaningfulness, not just some bytes on a pad. Knowledge, information, it had to be real, only then it became power in his eyes.

Considering his words for a short moment after the Minister of Commerce added her part to the negoatiations, the people in the room would for the first time hear the Colonel´s voice:

"How much do you plan to contribute to your own defence forces, on ground and in space?"

The question was simple and it was obvious that he didn´t mean funds, the tone of his voice was equally neutral, as it was determined to figure out the strength and capabilities of those he was talking to. Efried knew that his participation in the debate would be minimal, he wasn´t here to enforce the views of the Eternal Empire he was serving, but to learn and watch. He wasn´t a gakker, therefore he wouldn´t dare to termiante a deal, yet he would neither hold back to inquire what he wanted to know.

[member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"] | [member="Helly Reyne"]​

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[Ithiel Vi'Dreya]

Location: Hole in the wall restaurant
Objectives: Out Ithiel'ing an Ithiel, with [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Post: #4
Gear: Grey Jacket with Hood, Black T-Shirt, Black Jeans, Filtering-Googles on as always. Some armorweave perhaps somewhere but not on show.
Weapons Under the Bar: Jacknife sonic concussion pistol(s) x2, his saber, and a scattergun laying holstered. Duel Vibroknives and a few throwing knives concealed.

The Ithiel with the gun sat at the table, placing his weapon down on it, and facing them both. The bartender didn’t sit, not because a stranger? came in and told him too. Ithiel wasn’t built that way. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms looking directly at her through those goggles. For a good long minute. Not moving, not committing to anything. There was a small shot glass in his left hand, he was trying to work out what was going on.

It had been a minute. It was going to be another LONG minute for all of them.

Tension not everyone could sit on.

“About time.” Bartender Ithiel repeated again, breathing out, getting ready. Because the man at the table was leveling the weapon at him, then her, then him. “What do you say we all leave together?” The sitting man seemed to be speaking into a communicator to someone, as well as both of them. “Slowly.”

Bartender Ithiel tapped his hand on the side of his arm as the sitting imposter's drawn weapon pointed to her, then again to him, then again to her, not taking his eyes off of them both. If she saw it, the bartender was telling her when she could act safely, without saying a word.

“Should do what he says. Yeah?” There was a nod with the words. Of course, that wasn’t the only option. She could play it that way, and round anyone else involved up when they came, or not. The real Ithiel kept tapping his arm in time and signal, giving any clue he could. If she acted, the bartender would drop the shot glass he was holding to distract the imposter. Otherwise, he'd wait by the bar, in no rush to act. Steady confidence. The staff behind the bar were following the lead.

NPC:

Spoiler

At this point the NPC is yours as you like.

 

[Veronika Fleischer]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

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Location: A cantina which she could not remember
Objective: Mingling with other CIS members
Wearing: A feminine red suit & Chrisyakova limited edition heels
Weaponry: Trusty lightsaber tucked inside her suit pocket

"As you wish, Srina," Veronika said, her smile easing up into a friendlier version. The Exarch managed to recall her by name even though they had never been formally introduced, a feat that she attributed to her fame. She was indeed famous among the masses who inhaled the fast paced pop culture from the holonet, but whether [member="Srina Talon"] actually bothered with holonet culture was a big question mark. Not that the narcissistic mind of hers actually cared, getting occupied with the drinks that being offered and figuring out which ones suited her taste buds.

The glasses were served on a large table that had been tidied up for them, with holopad menus greeting their visions as they sat. The echani had asked for [member="Darth Tacitus"] to pay for the meal who gladly accepted the request, though Veronika suspected that there was a possibility they might end up eating for free. The owner had been eager with the drink selection and was surely going to make use of their presence to heavily promote his cantina in the future. Only a fool would ask the Emperor to pay compared to the value of a holovideo shoot of them sitting at the table.

While she picked up the menu and scrolled through the blinking screen, emerald eyes caught sight of the drinks that Srina and Kainan had chosen. She found herself slightly amused by her companions' choice but maintained a straight face. Judging from the choice of drinks, Veronika guessed that the odds of convincing either of them to visit a hot night club were probably zero. It would be interesting to see what [member="Scherezade deWinter"] or Mandalena, depending if one could believe her claim, picked to quench her thirst. .The blonde picked up a glass in the shape of a drinking shot containing dark liquor. A sniff told her that it was Corellian whiskey which she gladly poured down her throat. "Alright, let's see what to order," her eyes scanning through the menu contents and her fingers tapped on a tasty looking food platter meant for sharing. Perhaps that would help to break some ice. She paused for a moment and added two bowls of salad to the order cart, just in case one of her companions gave her another surprise by proclaiming the virtues of being a vegan.

"I took the liberty of getting something to share."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

Wearing: Obsidian type Strike Armor | Honey Boo Prototype Combat Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Hidden Wrist Blades
Location: Walking around, guard duty
Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Veronika Fleischer"] [member="Srina Talon"]

So he was going to pay for it. Good. It was a first step in paying back for what he'd tried to do. That whole attempting to turn into a civilized person for the moment didn't fool the Sithling for a moment. He could be the Emperor of anything he wanted to be, but he was not her Emperor, which was probably a good thing, since Madalena wasn't above organizing civil wars when the situation demanded it. There was that one time, on… Never-mind, not for now.

The four of them moved inside after some more exchange of words. It was as though the edge was removed from the Knight Obsidian's shoulders almost instantly. Bars were social places, she was a social person. For all intents and purposes, even if she was a stranger to this place, it was not a stranger to her. Almost like being at home, except the floors on her ship were cleaner than this and she didn't have to pretend to use slightly more muscle work to raise her foot after it was almost permanently glued to the floor.

"I sincerely hope that this someone you all once knew wasn't someone that was randomly grabbed like that on the regular," she said with a shrug to the Exarch, "otherwise it makes perfect sense that no one's seen her in at least half a year. I know I wouldn't stick around a place where such behavior is common and accepted and my standards are pretty low."

Seated at the table, Madalena wasted no time in sniffing out the drinks. Noticing alcohol was not part of her blood hound abilities, but the woman knew what she liked. Most of these drinks… Were not.

As Veronika ordered something that would be shared, Madalena realized the exarch's question had gone unanswered. "There is a wonderful appetizer in most places like this, Srina," she grinned from ear to ear as she looked at her table partners, the grabby Emperor included, "it's called Bantha Wings. Not made of bantha. Not entirely sure it's even real meat. But it's one of the best things you'll ever have; it's shaped like wonderfully fried wings and served in a thick sauce of cream and chili. Spicy, sweet, crunchy… Can't ask for much more than that when its taste buds you want to satisfy and aren't just after nutritional fulfillment."

Leaning back in the high chair, another grin came from the woman, and she signaled for the bartender to bring the biggest pile of wings they had.

"Other than that, I think I'll have a tall glass of cream with ice cubes," she said, "not planning on liquor if I might be called back for another guarding round."

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #4​

Objective: Buy drinks for everyone​

Attn: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Scherezade DeWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

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• The Last Call
  A seedy little cantina tucked away on Iktotch

The Sith Lord and his ethereal friend seemed as much alike as the sun and moon. The ever graceful Exarch was perfect as a painting, no matter how casually she tried to carry herself and Tacitus was all cold and deadly edge. He did not seem like the kind of man to receive compassion or receive it and in truth, he wasn't. He put up barriers around him and raised walls to keep the world from seeing the lonely, wounded creature inside. It took a lot of extraordinary things all clicking perfectly together for someone to break past those walls and to date, Srina was one of very few that did. So few, that one could count them on one hand and still have fingers to spare.

So to state it was a rarity for him to not only accept someone far enough into his personal space to touch him, let alone stir enough warmth within his frozen heart to move him to return the embrace, was an understatement. The level of trust that required, could not properly be described in words. There was not a single person aside from her on the entire world, that would not have been cut to pieces for attempting such a gesture. Despite having such discipline that he could teach most Jedi a thing or two about self-control, the calm and collected Sith Lord could just as easily explode into a flurry of deadly violence on a moment's notice, with no warning at all. His fury was truly nightmarish to behold.

So the brief exchange he shared with Srina was a truly shocking thing to behold indeed, a brief glimmer of humanity shining within his feline eyes. Once again, Tacitus showed a surprising level of cordiality when he sat beside Srina at the table, seeming to relax enough that if one squinted hard enough, something remotely resembling a normal person could be seen. He gave the impression that he ignored Scherezade's next comments, though in truth he paid close attention to every word she said, though he was not overly fond of her little jabs. Despite her claims to the contrary, her mannerisms were definitely the same they had always been.

Although he showed no sign of it, the blonde's overt friendliness and sociable familiarity ground his gears somewhat terribly, through no fault of her own. He did not hold it against her, it simply wore him down. Over the years, he had grown used to putting a certain distance between himself and others.

Thankfully, it did not take long for the drinks to arrive and everything looked at least somewhat palatable. The prospect of ordering a meal, though, did not particularly pleased the Sith Lord, who was in no particular rush to contract food poisoning, despite Scherezade's rather excited recommendations. "I'm fine, thank you. I have already eaten," he said, politely declining to order anything from the menu.

 

[Vera Mina]

Objective: 3

Post: 3

Kannis looked at Vera with open murder before slowly picking up the silver pill and shoving it into his nose. Mina's smile became wider as a faint red light went off in his nostril, traveling deep into the skull as the tiny machine inside that pill burrowed into his brain.

"How utterly expected..." she gloated mildly, disappointed that he had caved so quickly but it could not be helped. She had him by the...well...does it really need to be said?

"You will be at my beck and call whenever I have need of you. For every failure, I carve a mark into your sons. A long mark." she warned ever so quietly, still smirking evily at him. "You will receive no pay save monthly assurance that they are still alive..."

Vera took out a pen and a piece of note paper from the silver travel purse and scribbled a few addresses down and slid them to him. Kannis snatched it up. "What is this?" he growled, wanting to wring the life out of her for what she had done, and hating himself for even sticking his nose into her creator's business. He had just been looking for a steady stream of credits. Now he was a slave to a creature that had no concept of humanity.

"Its the addresses where I buried all the others I didn't show you..." she answered.

His face went pale with rage. Vera rose up, cooly walked over and held out her hand. "I trust we have a deal?" Vera asked.

Kannis didn't take it. Vera's smile dropped again.

"Oh come now. You're being very rude. And as you know, I am very mean..." she trailed with menace in her words.

Kannis hesitantly shook the hand, noticing the texture of the skin didn't feel right. Almost rubber like. If it had not been warm he would have figured it for the hand of a corpse.

"Stay in touch. Might need you soon." she instructed, business card in hand like magic. He took it and walked out. Vera, satisfied, started to head back to the motel she had rented a room in once she waited another ten minutes and once she was inside, she shuttered the blinds, removed her clothing, and triggered the transformation process.

She wasn't just here to enslave someone. She had come to deal death as well...her target would be here in a few hours, at that very same bar no less...

Her day wasn't done. Not even close...