Arabian Nights | CIS Dominion of Ra'Katha

[Nine Lives]

Lorna glided through the streets of the city with the apprehensive Cern in tow. She had landed in a different section of the city completely removed from the chaos being caused by a pyrokinetic in another section. She had turned the head of any man she walked past in that silver dress, sampling the wares, purchasing what she liked. Cern had, much to his own disquiet, begun lugging it around for a woman he realized was extremely strange. She was friendly, almost too friendly. In minutes she was getting even the most stubborn merchant to sell her rediculously expensive jewelry at a seventy five percent discount.

Other things began to jump out at the young man, such as how perfect her complexion was, even in the dust and heat of Ra'Katha. She wasn't prespiring, unlike some. She just glided through crowds, through dust, none of it sticking to her.

"Hungry?" Lorna asked, twisting the top half of her body to him in a liquid manner to face him as they came across a fast food stall. The adrenaline of having nearly been robbed or worse made his stomach growl. "Sure." Cern answered.

Lorna nodded to the white garbed man behind the stall and he nodded, cutting shavings of meat off a hunk of spiced ribcage and handed it to her, who then handed it to him. She paid eighteen times the amount required, and the man's eyes went wide as he took the money. Cern was surprised as he ate, following her into a small coffee shop.

"Why'd you pay so much?" Cern asked as they sat down at a table close to a window where they could see some cultivated trees.

"I can afford to be generous." Lorna answered, blinking pink eyes, then smiling. "Plus, if he's a gangster, surely his contacts in this area will tell him I have money to throw around...plus it feeds you. I've never fed anyone before. Thank you."

Cern narrowed his eyes, but when he took a bite it was the most delicious thing he had eaten since having a blaster pointed at him, he decided having a friend who could afford to be so generous was a good thing. Doubtless it was something she intended for him to catch onto by inferment, rather than outright stating it.

"Well, throwing around money might be a good thing where this guy is concerned..."

"Tell me about him..." Lorna asked as she signalled a waiter for coffee.

"Maduss Morrigan...he was a transplant. They say he was a CIS Fighter Pilot. He got phased out after it was decided droid pilots could do the same job he could. Got marooned here and quickly proved he was more of a shark than the local crime was used to. They say Morrigan has the local illicit spice trade literally crushed under his palm and he also has a large share of the Black Market textile trade. Silks and the like."

"I take it the racing is an attempt to remember his glory days?" Lorna asked.

"You could say that." Cern answered as his coffee arrived, a very small cup of painted china half the size of his palm. Ra'Katha coffee could be notoriously strong. He gulped it down.

"I see why you would be apprehensive of him." Lorna observed.

"I shouldn't even be involving you..." he grumbled. "I mean, I just met you, for crying out loud. I'm placing you, placing both of us in rediculous danger just taking you to see him..." Cern admitted, finishing his sandwich as much out of as much mortal anxiety as hunger.

"I can handle myself. Besides, if I play my cards right, the only thing that will be hurt will be that Gangster's ego."

"I hope you are right.." Cern croaked out. "This guy...he's slick. But he's like a fething wolf once you piss him off."

"Pride is always the undoing of such men, mark my words..." Lorna assured him.

"You're a nice woman, but I don't think nice is going to be enough." Cern warned her, sincerely fearing for her life. Weird or not, she was too nice to die.

"You would be surprised at how far nice gets you." Lorna disagreed. "You should try having a little more optimism, Cern. We're going to pull this off."

Cern only nodded, smiling nervously. Lorna soon paid for the coffee and they were soon on their way to Morrigan's 'Palace'

"What if nice really isn't enough?" He asked.

"Well, in that case...I won't like it, but criminals die every day..." Lorna answered solemnly.

The Palace came into view , a former Factory, converted to a private estate. Cern gulped as he spotted the front door guards. He remembered them from the last time they had thrown him out when he tried to see Morrigan for a rematch.

The lights gave the former production plant an eerie feel as the approached, casting wide shadows at arched windows. The Guards, burly, muscular men wearing all white business suits scowled at Cern and the woman as they approached.

"Well lookee here. It appears lighting really does strike twice Kruze..." one guard rumbled to the other.

"Thought we told you never to show your ugly mug at the boss's doorstep again, Cern..." the one called Kruze growled. "Yet here you are, showing your ugly mug at the boss's doorstep."

"For those who were on the winning side of a starship race, your boss sure seems to act like a sore winner." Lorna accused.

Kruze shrugged. "Nah, nothin' like that lady. We're just doing our job. Boss don't waste his time with losers. And besides, even if the boss was a sore winner, which he ain't, he'd have every right to be. Lost little boy Cern here can cry and stamp his feet all he wants about losing his Daddy's prize starship, but that don't change the fact it was 'his' choice to wager it, 'his' choice to race, and 'his' choice not to get better to be worth it for the boss to reconsider racing him. He can be as sore about it as he likes but it doesn't change the fact he lost to the boss, fair and square."

"So the better, because its me he will be racing." Lorna assured them.

The guards both stared in surprise. "Serious? Huh. Wow, Cerny-boy, you really have hit a new low. Go on in. The boss will laugh, if nothing else..." Kruze chuckled.

Lorna nodded, and the unnaturally graceful woman slinked by them, Cern following in total shock. They always beat him up whenever he had tried to speak.

What the hell was Lorna...and why was he so driven to serve?

He had no time to think about it now as he followed her inside...

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Location: Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: xxx
Tags: [member="Bastille Rommer"] | [member="Valencia Hadley"] | Open

Did Gerwald have a hot take on the situation, maybe. It read as it read from his vantage point, and while the politicians were about about to talk in circles about how beautiful the city was, etc, the streets were burning with the violence of open rebellion. Gerwald was never one to honey his words when it came to stating facts. Perhaps he needed to learn to use some of the sweet confection his words carried when speaking to Naedira in matters like these, but Gerwald was trained to kill, not trained to negotiate. Gerwald's presence was always best suited when negotiations failed and the Confederacy needed to enforce the position of the Vicelord. Gerwald was an instrument who aspired to be much more, but his lack of tact would keep him from rising through the ranks anytime soon.

He could feel the sting in the look which [member="Valencia Hadley"] had given him. Would it have come with words, Gerwald imagined the rebuke would be harsh as the small blonde did not seem to be afraid or intimidated by the much larger lupine. She was a curiosity to Gerwald, as were others he had met. Even [member="Srina Talon"] was strong enough to put her strength on display despite her small size and stature. The Confederacy did not raise weak women, even those who Gerwald had seen leave, they were not weak.

His mind pressed into hers, an ability he had not attempted with someone other than his sister since The Mountain had rendered his mind near useless, and all but decimated the mental shields. Slowly Gerwald had been reconstructing them following the methods [member="Naedira Darcrath"] had taught him, but it was a slow process.

"I apologize, but I find him to be either disingenuine, or he is a weak and inept leader. I am not sure which I would rather discover him to be."

Gerwald was too free with his opinion on the matter, in fact, Gerwald was always free with his opinions. He did not know when to keep his thoughts to himself most times, something his best friend had told him to work on at times. A sigh escaped his lips as he nodded to their host.

"I did not mean to insinuate anything behind my words. The situations simply seems urgent, and as a warrior myself I am a man of action and not words. Forgive me."

 

[Xobos Yakieer]

Objective: Veiled threat
Equipment: Lightsaber, Faceless Armor (Without helmet)
Mental State: Curious
Tags: [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Lunara Azure"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Cali Ziiva"]
Post: #3

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Whoever this woman was, she was doing things with the force that Xobos had never seen before. The sand, and now, the fire were things that she didn’t even know was possible. Could it be perhaps that she was affiliated with the witches of dathomire? She had heard stories of them, of the things they could do with the force that were practically unheard of outside of those that were lucky enough to view it. Again, while watching the wall of fire grow and cut off half the rowdy crowd, Xobos made a mental note to pull the force user aside and ask her some questions.

“She does it with such ease…” Ora spoke, obviously as curious about the woman as the apprentice was. However, there was still work to do, as evidenced by the man of the group finding a tall place to stand, making a speech that clearly was meant to try and sway those in the gold masks to give themselves up. In the back of her mind, she didn’t honestly think that they would do that. With the language barrier, the proud nature of these people, and the violence that was already starting to unfold, this situation was beginning to look like something the three force users would not be able to control.

Because of this, and the crowd’s continuing unruliness, the apprentice found herself pulling the pair of lightsabers off her belt, igniting both. Her eyes never left the group of people, clearly watching for any sort of hostile movement that might emerge. While there was little to none of that, there was a flash of pink that did catch Xobos’s eye. So much so, she began to follow the jumping, spinning, and twisting form of what looked to be… “That can’t be her…right?” Ambrus’s voice mirrored Xobos’s own as she asked the question aloud, then tried shouting over the chaos at the market floor.

“Cali!! Where are you going?!” She didn’t know if the Zeltron would hear her, and even if she did, the apprentice wasn’t sure that Cali would even be able to reach her. Between the fire and the crowd, Xobos was starting to feel like the force users on the market square floor were surrounded. And the walls were starting to close in.

 

[Lunara Azure]

Fire was a wonderful tool, it was the first tool that Lunara had ever learned to use, it was one of those tooles that you came back to again and again, like an old friend, like a warm glove you could just slip into at will. She'd become so used to it, so inured to the fire she could command with a thought that the white-haired woman rarely gave a thought to it, rarely considered the awesome potential that was, literally, at her fingertips. And now, because of her thoughtlessness the market itself was ablazse, stalls and carpets going up in a blaze of crackling material. The wail of the crowd was a reminder she wouldn't soon be forgetting, but they had a mission here, the route out the leaders of hte Gold Masks...but that didn't mean that she was going to let this stand either.

Heedless of the state of her dress, she'd deal with that later, Lunara sank down to her knees, opening herself up to the light that surrounded her, sucking in more and more of the power that was the fundamental building block of the universe. She felt like she would burst, that the power was seeping out of her very pores as she opened her eyes, the normally crystal blue orbs almost glowing with power. For a moment it looks like she was praying, raising both hands up, and then Lunara exerted her will on the fire that surrounded them. From the stalls, from the carpets pillars of flame shot up into the air leaving only the damaged wares behind as they gathered into a massive ball above hte market, held in place by the woman's will. Then something shifted, a ribbon of fire peeling away, resolving into the shape of a serpent, fanged mouth open as it swam through the air. One, two, three, more and more of the serpents fell away from teh ball of fire, a full dozen of them silently slithering through the air, surrounding Alkor, like a demonic horde awaiting his command to sally forth and wreak havoc on his enemies, the crackling of the fire the only sound them made as they circled the man.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Cali Ziiva"]​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

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Objective: Veiled Threat - Outskirts
Outfit: Type A
Tags: [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Lunara Azure"] | [member="Eternal Storm"] | Open

Cali peeked around the corner with care, and drew back after she spotted where the trio sought refuge. It had been a merry romp. One far too long in the making. Like, did they think she enjoyed following them like some sort of super spy? Wasn't like the Ministry of Secrets was paying her for this.

She was an exceptionally resourceful little Zeltron. Some clandestine organization could only hide itself so much; wasn't like they were completely self-sufficient and walked around wearing personal cloaking devices all the time. A woman heard things. Pieced things together. Not that she really knew who they were. However, Cali knew ways to get in touch, and things to watch for. Now if only they'd return her calls -- she could put them in touch with some pretty useful resources. Everyone needed supplies.

Oh! So, why was she there?

Uh... It was exciting?

Was exciting.

The decrepit blaster was drawn out and disassembled with a few flicks of her wrist and a dance of her fingers. A tiny key piece or two stored in a pocket, with the rest discarded out of sight. A soft sigh escaped her pink lips as she stood there in the shadows under the cover of night. Yep, time to make it exciting again. Dangerous too. Well you know what they said on Zeltros: no risk, all reward. Wait that didn't-- Nevermind.

With the cowl of her outfit thrown up to hide most of her pink flesh from view, the Zeltron turned out from the alleyway and casually strode down the way toward the 'happening' place. Of course, she kind of expected to get stopped by the 'tipsy guy' by the crates before managing to slip inside. Like, totally wouldn't be unheard of for the sentry to try pretending to blend in with their environment. A keen eye would weigh just how limber the man's swagger, how flush his cheeks, or hazy his eyes really were the closer she got.

A frontal assault? Hahahaha. No. Cali wasn't a Jedi Knight looking for a place to get into a scrap. She was a business woman. A merchant. Someone that sold dangerous items to dangerous people for dangerous purposes. Tell a girl these Golden Mask types didn't need supplies? Oh, but she was an offworlder, the kind of person they reviled? A technicality. What did it matter at the start of a revolution where the gear came from? When they took over then they could throw her out as well. Cali knew how to spin a story. The real question was just how think-headed these people were; because Cali really didn't go looking to kill people. In fact, the whole 'laughter and music' coming from the hut ahead was totally her scene.

 

[Alluria Ivalice]

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LOCATION: Saltuhn​

EQUIPMENT: Twin Lightsabers​

WEARING: x​

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Keeping pace with the trio of Golden Masks, Alluria kept her distance, moving when certain they would not be aware of her presence. Allowing the Force to guide her steps, kept her mind busy as she focused on the path ahead and her surroundings. Approaching the building in which they entered, she ducked out of sight of the man who was outside. In the darkness her luminescent hues would stand out like a predator stalking prey. Cursing beneath her breath in Omwatese, she set her mind to work on how to get inside, or if getting inside was even the proper path forward.​

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Sensing the presence of [member="Cali Ziiva"], Alluria sent her voice through the Force to the other, figuring it would be best to let an ally know that backup was around, should it be needed.​

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" I see I am not the only one to follow the masked ones here. Should my help be needed, I am nearby. "​

​

Checking herself over, the hilts of her lightsabers would be too difficult to effectively hide on her person if she would be checked for weapons and leaving them outside would not be an option. Instead, she inspects the building itself, checking for other ways in.. or out. Secret meeting places were surely to have some type of back door to them.​

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TAGS: [member="Eternal Storm"], [member="Xobos Yakieer"], [member="Cali Ziiva"], [member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="Lunara Azure"]​

 

[Bastille Rommer]

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[member="Gerwald Lechner"] | [member="Valencia Hadley"]​

​

Bastille's eyes slowly shifted from the warrior, to the ambassador, and back to the warrior again. Whoever this tall man was, he obviously did not have the sweet tongue that his counterpart so excellently employed. But at the very least, he had the courage and bravado to say what was on his mind. Although they were not always the kindest, Bastille respected honest men, and so he let the slight side. "Do not apologize. Although I may not have your warrior's spirit, I assure you that I am no coward. I am quite able to hear dissent, Ambassador Hadley and Warrior Lechner, or I would not think at all of joining your confederacy, no?"

Bastille smiled to show his genuine intent. He was beginning to like the two that the Vicelord had sent him, and how they contrasted with one another. If all foreigners were somewhat like this, the Kemotar reckoned, then opening Ra'Katha back up to the galaxy would not be uninteresting to say the least. "Kahal qhe hali!" <"Drinks all around!"> Bastille proclaimed loudly, giving his honored guests another smile as he personally proffered them two goblets off of a passing tray. He lifted his own glass high into the air, a Ra'Kathan drinking salute before taking a long draught from the goblet. Ra'Kathans were naturally able to hold their wine extremely well, and the deep goblets were a testament to their resilience against alcohol.

"Pardon my interruption," Bastille said after he had swallowed. "It is rather customary, as I am sure it is across many worlds of the galaxy, to celebrate occasions on Ra'Katha with wine and alcohol. I was fearing that my advisors were getting a little thirst--" he began to say before he was cut off by the arrival of an out-of-breath messenger, his dark forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes filled with worry. The messenger began babbling incoherently in Wan'ante, and after listening for a minute Bastille narrowed his eyes, turning his eyes over to one of the massive slit-windows that overlooked the rest of Saltuhn. "Ambassador, this messenger has just informed me that there is a devil-man in my bazaar lighting the markets on fire. You must excuse me if I sound aggressive, but do you know anything about this? Either of you?"

 

[Nine Lives]

Objective: BYOO (Win a starship race)

Post: 3

The biot and Cern were greeted to a lavish interior that belied the dilapidated exterior. Furs, paintings, expensive lamps and tables of food with all manner of alien guests graced their sight. Guards lined a mead hall like set up, scowling at Cern mostly, though Lorna's unnaturally precise bipedal movement earned a few glares of apprehension.

Maduss Morrigan lay at the end of the cleared factory floor, clad in an all white business suit. His skin was a deep tan from living in the desert, hair darker than Lorna's. Gold rings with gems cut to resemble small starfighters adorned his fingers, rubies and emeralds, The Biot's telescopic vision narrowed onto the models. Tie Hunters and Tie Silencers. Those weren't CIS models. Was he a defector? Trophy taker?

Lorna turned heads in her silvery dress as she approached him, noting the stained glass windows that depicted the Military Unit's Symbol, a Tie Silencer flying over the broken emblem of The First Order. There was a colored panel underneath that read "707 Tactical Reappropriation Squadron."

"It takes a special kind of pilot to fly one of those..." Lorna noted to the man, who kept his blue eyes hidden by thick sunglasses.

"It does. But once you understand it, it becomes a buttery smooth ride. A vicious weapon. Built by a vicious government. I learned a lot from them. Helped me to carve out a little swath of territory from here to the east end." Maduss replied with an easy going Concord Dawn accent.

Lorna knew better than to try and pull away his armor now, so she stuck to business.

"Mister Morrigan." Lorna purred, gliding torward him. The guards at his side went for blasters but Maduss held up a hand.

"She's with this second rate racer. He can't afford the kind of muscle it would take to kill me. Besides...I'm curious."

He looked at Cern. "So, Cern? Is this the depth to which you've sunken? Coming to me after all these years clinging to this admittedly beautiful woman's dress and hoping I'll take pity on you and accept a challenge from a walk-in from the street? Why shouldn't I tell you and her--no offense, Miss--to get spaced? I beat you fair and square. If your daddy didn't talk to you until the day he died, that's hardly my problem. Now, I like to think I'm one of the nicer Gangster's in this place...I've already been much more patient with you then any of my peers would have been...so pretty please, feth off. Hell, I'll even give you some free advice...don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

Lorna's economic database as her primary public identity had allowed her to accumulate a vast fortune for the family. Of course, it was not entirely hers, but she had a comfortable monthly stipend from her business management.

"I'm offering you three million..." she started.

"Three million? I blow that much playing dice on the weekends at the Casino's here..." Morrigan scoffed coldly.

"...and am prepared to offer up to fifteen just for the privilege of racing you. I will triple that if you win..."

Cern stared at her in astonishment at the numbers she was throwing it out. This was accompanied by a small whisper of horror.

How was he expected to compensate her in turn?

Maduss scratched his chin. "And if you win, then predictably, Cern gets his father's ship back."

Lorna nodded. Cern began to notice that her gaze and smile seemed to be having not just a hypnotic effect on him, but the guards next to him.

"Who is this man to you? He has nothing, relagated to sensor work for shoddy transport service. I have seen his comings and goings, and it is always deeply pathetic." Maduss scoffed, slightly suspicious but still hypnotized by her smile.

Lorna turned to stare at Cern with a look of genuine sympathy.

"Because I don't like the idea of him not having his father's ship back."

This caused Maduss Morrigan to erupt in laughter.

"You mean he is actually a charity case?" Morrigan chuckled. "Well I applaud your heart of gold, Miss, if nothing else. But even with as touching an answer as that is, and even with the admittedly tasty wager you are offering, I'm still not sure if I should accept."

Cern then did something that caught even Lorna's programming off guard. It completely upended her psychological profile of the man.

"You win, you get to watch me get torn apart by dogs, because I know you're into that sick chit..." Cern said quietly.

Lorna turned to him. "Cern, no!" Lorna protested in genuine fear for his safety.

Maduss, however, replied in just as quietly a voice.

"Well, now, that is an interesting wager...seems you've gotten a little vinegar in you after all these years...I accept..."

 

[Valencia Hadley]

Objective: Honeyed Tongue
Location: Throne Room, Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: XXX
Tags: [member="Bastille Rommer"] | [member="Gerwald Lechner"] | Open

- - -​

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As the Warden at her side chose to respond to the look she'd given by whispering instead into her mind, she felt a small bit of relief fall over her. It seemed he was well aware of his transgression, and knew better than to respond in turn before the Kemotat once more. The rough bit was that she didn't entirely disagree... But she also understood, perhaps now better than ever, that at times talking sweetly and inflating the egos of those who held the power to make change was the best way to avoid further blood shed.

This instance may have been different - outside of attempting to assist with the open rebellion in the streets, the CIS' forces would be of little consequence here without the talks going smoothly. The Councillor knew full well that the Kemotat would find a way to join the Confederacy regardless of how sweet she appeared - but if she could make the man look good in the eyes of his people, make it appear that he'd sweetened the deal upon their entry, perhaps he would not need so many of the Confederacy's people to snuff out this violence... More bees with honey and all that.

Still watching as [member="Bastille Rommer"] seemed to process what the pair had said, she allowed her mind to gently brush against the Warden beside her. Her gifts with the Force were, at present, wholly of one skill - and it had to do with her voice. Where her voice to the ear was pleasant and sweet, what she sounded like inside of someone's mind was... Well - more bees with honey and all that. "I can appreciate your disapproval, Warden Lechner. But this man is only one man, and his people are in danger. He sits here with us to try and bring peace, not with force, but with diplomacy... He'll need our help to quash the rebellion - but those in this room also need him to be wise about more than just war."

The apology that the lupine gave, and the subsequent laughter and jovial acceptance by their host left her at ease. She was grateful that both men were willing to be reasonable - and instead turned her thoughts to the glasses that were handed out. When the cups were lifted in a toast, she pressed that radiant smile back in place and hoisted her hand with everyone else in attendance. "To a prosperous future for Ra'Katha, your people, and for you, your grace!"

Her lips had only just slid back from the rim of the cup, marveling at the quality of the wine within, thinking that she'd need to order a few crates of the stuff when the boarders were finally open, as the doors to the throne room were thrown open. The state of the man who'd entered was... Unfortunate. She could see the sweat hanging from his brow, and there was soot upon him like a soft fog. For a moment the Councillor worried that the palace may be burning - but as the Kemotar turned to them, a look of concern plain upon his face, he delivered a bit of news she'd not been expecting, and followed with a question she was unsure how to answer.

The politician stood for a moment, considering. She'd been on a few battlefields now - and of their forces she was unaware of any that could control flame... Outside of perhaps the Vicelord and the Exarchs. Though she knew that only the Vicelord himself was present, and he'd made clear that he was leaving the city in it's entirety to her.

"My apologies, your grace - but I don't know of anyone personally who could use the Force in this way. It's possible that it is one of our soldiers, but they've been instructed to use only what force is necessary to quell the rebellion as per your instruction." Retrieving the datapad from where she'd tucked it neatly into her elbow, she indicated to the screen which still remained inactive. "If you think it warranted, and with your leave, I could get a status report, your grace?"

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor's words fell upon deaf ears.

The people either could not put together the fractured Ra'Kathan ultimatum he gave, or they had elected to act in spite of it. His rage had already boiled over, and the teeming darkness that filled him had escaped into the outside world. Panic, terror, anger, sadness, despair, hopelessness- all manner of discord bled out into them.

These things were born of his victims over a lifetime of murder. He still remembered their fearful faces, and he could hear their pleas. Here, now, on a world filled with defiance, he looses them on the population. His azure eyes had changed, corrupted, and burned a virulent scarlet.

"Very well," the Jen'jidai uttered, his voice the least of their concerns. "Inform our liaison that the people of Ra'Katha have made their choice in his stead. Instead of embracing the kindness of the Southern Systems, they have chosen to treat us as Invaders. Instead of joining hands, they have sown chaos."

He opened his palm and the flames around his own body were quelled. Alkor stood amid the Golden Masks, and he exhaled harshly. "By the authority of the Office of the Vicelord," Alkor gripped his saber tighter, "I sentence you all to death."

The crimson blade hissed, spat, and dislodged three heads with a single swing.

"Make the report," he told [member="Lunara Azure"] sternly. "See to it [member="Valencia Hadley"] knows how to proceed, as we were instructed."

[member="Cali Ziiva"] [member="Xobos Yakieer"] [member="Alluria Ivalice"] [member="Eternal Storm"]

 

[Xobos Yakieer]

Objective: Veiled threat
Equipment: Lightsaber, Faceless Armor (Without helmet)
Mental State: Controlled
Tags: [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Lunara Azure"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Cali Ziiva"]
Post: #4

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Everything was unraveling much too quickly at this point. The speech that the sith made beside her on the platformed seemed to do nothing to make the crowd quiet down whatsoever. If anything, the combination of the fire and the heated words from the man only seemed to empower the crowd to become even rowdier. Not only that, but the way the words were coming toward the group only seemed to indicate the golden masks in the crowd were fully willing to advocate for violence at this point. However, Xobos really doubted that they were expecting the type of violence that soon followed the final words from Alkor.

As soon as she saw the red blade snap to life, the worst case scenario popped into mind. Which was quickly fulfilled between the words of Alkor, and the fact that he dislodged the heads of three members of the crowd in one quick motion. That action, combined with the now flaming snakes in the sky, did absolutely nothing to quell the rising violence from the crowd. This situation felt like it could explode into anarchy before any of the three could do anything. They were supposed to be here to help these people, to help take away from the violence that the golden masks were perpetuating. Yet the more this situation progressed, it felt like the violence that they were supposed to be stopping was becoming exactly what the golden masks wanted.

This needed to end. And quickly. It could end by massacring the crowd with the lord commander, which was what he was probably leaning toward at this point. Yet this would only serve to be a martyr that the golden masks could use to perpetuate the offworld invaders narrative that they so desperately wanted. Maybe they were too far down that road already, but if there was a way to calm down this crowd, put a band aid on this rising tension for now. But saying that, and actually doing so, were two completely different things.

Then, an idea came to mind. She didn’t know if it would work at all with any honesty, but it would be worth a try. Firstly, she lept onto the platform, motioning to the blonde fireweaver with an open palm. “Can you put the fire out for just a moment? Let me try something.” Saying this as she sunk to her knees, transitioning to a meditative cross legged sat position. A long inhale, then exhale, followed as her eyes turned to the sith in crowd. “Knight commander, if you would lower you blades for just a moment, I believe I can calm things down a tad.”

Another inhale, then exhale. Then another. And another, until her breathing was even and calming. Within her mind, the apprentice could feel herself entering into the dark void of her meditative state, almost immediately seeing the floating lights representing the voices. Wasting no time, knowing it was imperative to calm down the crowd before it exploded into one violent mob, she addressed the dual lights with a rushed tone. “I need your strength. Help me calm this crowd, lend me your strength.” There was a pause, as if the voices were considering, before the lights floated together into a singular, purple light, brilliantly shimmering within the otherwise darkness of her mind. “As you wish.”

Outwardly, Xobos raised a singular hand toward the crowd, casting a calming energy toward them. The feelings of the dark side of the voice used to bring the crowd to a much more still, state. Instead of increasing their focus, like she had used this technique before to do, the apprentice instead used it to put the crowd in a much more docile state. Yet, much like before, while this style of the power was using less of her, and even with Lagos’s power coursing though her, it was still extremely taxing on her mind, and she didn’t fully well know how long her power over this large number of people would hold. But still, for the moment, they were satiated, and they would respond well to what commands the knight commander would make.

​

 

[Startorn]

Startorn stood off to the side of the gathering in the shadows, *force users* he thought shaking his head, why did they have to make everything harder than in need to be? He'd been going around to various bars and, less desirable places seeing what people thought of the CIS, He pushed through the crowd and up towards the others and hopped up with them drawing his blaster "I'm pretty sure when they said quell the rebellion they didn't mean slaughter everyone, and have you found the leader yet? If not we need a few alive"

Tag:[member="Xobos Yakieer"],[member="Alkor Centaris"],[member="Cali Ziiva"],[member="Lunara Azure"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Location: Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: xxx
Tags: [member="Bastille Rommer"] | [member="Valencia Hadley"] | Open

Apologies were accepted then, but not without rebuke. Gerwald did not understand the politics of appearance, or why they were passing out wine and alcohol when the rebellion continued in the open streets. His homeworld had a class system, and as one from a lower class, Gerwald found this type of behavior to be exactly what he hated about the elite of Stewjon. Perhaps Gerwald would return one day to take control of his own home for himself, but as long as he was a warrior he would think like one. This was a waste of time especially when it would be easy for the Confederacy to simply take what they wanted.

"And yet he needs us to stop this rebellion. How can he bring about what he needs with peace when we are already fighting his battles for him? What is it that he possibly has to offer at this point other than to sign the agreement and be done with it? Is he not posturing simply for the sake of appearances at this point?"

The question was valid, and one Gerwald would never hope to understand the answer to. He knew no matter what he asked they would be sitting in this room placating whatever charade this man wanted in order to get him to sign the agreement Valencia was here to present him with. Then came the report. A demon lighting the markets on fire.

Gerwald sighed. This was getting out of hand. Perhaps they could use this to force him to sign the agreement. He would have answered, but the question was not directed toward him. Gerwald refused the wine as he was on duty, and simply listened to what was unfolding between the two.

 

[Lunara Azure]

​

“Can you put the fire out for just a moment? Let me try something.”

Sweeter words had never been spoken, at least not recently. The white-haired woman slumped down, a breath escaping her body in something akin to a sigh or relief as she folded up on the floor,, just resting there as she released the light that she'd been weaving mere moments ago.The serpents of fire that had been slithering around Alkor seemed to wilt along with her, there one moment and then the next melting into nothingness. Only tthe memory of heat and fang providing and sign that they had ever existed, had ever threatened the crowd Xobos now addressed.

Lunara knew she should stand, should provide some manner of support to the woman now facing down the crowd but she was just so tired and she seemed ot have it. Just a few minutes rest and then she'd be up and help, just a few seconds to catch her breath. It had been years since the Sorceress had attempted to manipulate teh light on such a large scale, while fire was one of hte first elements acolytes of the church were taught to manipulate it was also a wild form of energy. Easy to manipulate, much harder to control and force to your will and she hadn't just been playing with a small candle flame. Elemental control on this scale, reaching across the entire market, without any artifacts to boost her powers was...draining. The young woman closed her eyes for a moment, head bowed, chest rising and falling as she struggled not to slump even further. She was just so tired, so light-headed.

Just a few more minutes, then she'd be up to help.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Cali Ziiva"]​

 

[Eternal Storm]

​

[member="Cali Ziiva"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"]​

​

When [member="Cali Ziiva"] assumed that the scene inside of the house was exactly her style, she would soon discover that she was exactly right. But first came the guard, a big burly Ra'Kathan who's black skin glistened like oil in the torchlight. He towered over the Zeltron, tiny by comparison, and although he didn't seem to be too intelligent, he had his orders. The guard was not supposed to let anyone in unless they had a mask, and even he was bright enough to see that the pink woman before him had no such thing.

However, may it be a stroke of ironic luck, another man -- much shorter, with lighter skin and a potbelly and who stank of wine -- stumbled out of the entrance. Nearly bowling over the guard, he was helped to his feet as he took another swig of a rather large bottle he held in one hand. "Jadhi ent Vou?" <"Who is this?"> the man asked through a slurred tongue, taking in the small pink woman standing before him.

"Ruzbhin ent Ha, ruzet ce'Jbhen" <"She is an Outsider, not of us,"> came the gruff and simple reply from the Guard as he passively eyed the Zeltron.

The second man took another swig of his drink, belched, and then shrugged. "Jamali qadkeh ent Ha. Sama fi Han," <"She is pretty enough. Let her in,"> the man said as he took another eye of the pretty Zeltron before heading back inside to the house. Although somewhat reluctant, the guard nodded towards the Zeltron and held the mat up for her to pass through, nodding to the pink woman before resuming his blank stare. It would be the Zeltron's next choices that would decide the fate of her's, and the Confederacy's, mission. Needless to say, it was a good thing that [member="Alluria Ivalice"] was standing as backup nearby.

 

[Eternal Storm]

.

 

[Bastille Rommer]

​

[member="Gerwald Lechner"] | [member="Valencia Hadley"]​

​

Bastille was no force user, but he did not need mystical powers to sense that the warrior did not like him. The dissatisfied glances towards his companion, the hesistancy and abruptness of his manner. . . it was evident that for all of Warrior Lechner's prowess in combat, he lacked when it came to politics. But Bastille appreciated his frank honesty, something that he did not experience often. The warrior was unafraid to state his mind, and it appeared to be the same with the Confederacy as a whole. They might lack some courtesy and tact, but ultimate the Confederacy was a nation geared towards providing it's citizens with a better life. When Bastille really looked at it, Ra'Katha and the outsider nation were not that different.

"Do not worry about the Market," Bastille said, beckoning for Valencia to put away her communications system. "I have made my mind. Ra'Katha will join the Confederacy of Independent Systems, provided that we are economically reimbursed for the damage caused in the markets today and that we are given legal protections from offworld exploitation. But I think that we can look past our differences and see cause for us to join your confederacy. Take these terms back to your Vicelord, and I hope that I will have the fortune of meeting you again." Bastille gave bow of respect towards the two ambassadors from the Confederacy, as the rest of the assembled Ra'Kathan nobility and guards saluted the Confederates with a fist clasped against their chest. Straightening up, Bastille addressed the entire assembly as he proclaimed in his native tongue, "Selamm fi Ra'Katha!" <"Peace in Ra'Katha!">

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Objective: Veiled Threat - Outskirts
Outfit: Type A
Tags: [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Lunara Azure"] | [member="Eternal Storm"] | Open

Cali stopped with a giant of a man between her and the party inside. 'Party' might be overstating it, but when a Zeltron was involved even a simple 'dance' could quickly escalate. With a smile on her lips, she was prepared to spin a yarn to acquire an audience when something unusual happened. The smile and bright eyes turned toward the new arrival. A drunk arrival. So, like, the party was obviously more than a mere front for dodgy activity then. Celebration of their accomplishment in the market, perhaps?

She might have reached up and cradled the side of her face with a lone finger as the drunk one eyed her. What? Like, the people inside could use a pretty Zeltron among them, right? Business, yeah, but maybe they needed someone to break them out of their angry ruts. She could totally help turn heads and change minds at the same time.

Slowly, the hood of her outfit was shoved back before she stepped forward. Another smile was directed up at the door man (aka guard, outlook, sentry). "Shukraan jazilaan." <"Thank you."> The Zeltron slipped within the confines of the hut. Nothing wrong with being polite. Guy was just doing his job.

When did Cali learn their language? Well, being an attentive business woman she had picked up several words. That wouldn't be much help inside, but the pink one had an ace up her sleeve. The Force would guide her. It often guided her to the best parties, for example. But in this case, it'd help with the whole speech thing. Though she really would like it one of them spoke Basic.

Or Zeltronian. That'd be cool. Also wildly unlikely.

With a beaming smile, the Zeltron's gaze would sweep over all in attendance. "Ahlan," <Hello> she said while she waved a hand slightly. "Hal ladaya safqat lika." <Do I have a deal for you.> Every revolution needed supplies. Often weapons. Guess what Whimsy provided? Lots of uncommon means of destruction. Quite handy, yes? And who would authorize such a deal? Someone important. Someone with authority and money, specifically. Especially with a pretty thing like her.

Before launching into her business spiel, however, the Zeltron would first need to confirm her audience. Make sure it was the right crowd. It would be painfully embarassing to address a bunch of random drunks.

Oh, but what about the danger? Cali had that covered. She could spin quite a good yarn, in fact. If that failed there was Alluria Ivalice nearby. And should that fail, well, she was a crafty, fun-loving Zeltron. She'd definitely think of something. Or she'd flash a glow stick -- but that was the last resort. No one liked a glowstick murderer. Um, well, not present company anyway.

Get in, make a deal, get vital information, and pass it along later. And if any of them had some sort of off-world connection -- like, say, a shadowy anti-Confederate organization -- any background check would show she was a mere employee of the renown Whimsy. Because, you know, she was just that. So why the danger? Excitement. That and the pink woman didn't like people suffering. This revolution was violent and bloody, and that upset her. Of course, if she knew what was going on in the market that would have upset her too.

 

[Eternal Storm]

​

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[member="Cali Ziiva"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"]​

​

The same man who had invited the Zeltron inside now looked her up and down, snorting in derision as the pink woman made her case. Sitting his rather round bottom on a plump pillow on the floor, he took drew in a long wiff from a narrow tobacco stick, sighing as the smoke exhaled from his nostrils. He first appeared somewhat sincere in intent, but when the Zeltron started speaking he merely began to laugh. "Your wan'ante is terrible. You sound like a Rajek," the man said in heavily-accented Basic to a chorus of laughter from the assembled Golden Masks. "I will not deal with muqrig Outsiders like you. I only pray that your gods are benevolent ones," he said, still chortling as he waved two armed men with long, vicious looking swords towards the Zeltron. "Make it quick," he added to the guards in an undertone, "But do not mutilate the body. I like the pretty ones."

[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Lunara Azure"]​

​

It was [member="Xobos Yakieer"] who had truly grasped onto something progressive when she tried to pacify the crowd instead of further intimidation. In truth, the average Ra'Kathan had no hate for the outsiders, only fear for losing everything they had earned. As the calming effects of the woman's force powers spread over the crowd, the wailing and cries of dismay began to slowly lessen, becoming dimmer and more isolated. The fire, now absent from the marketplace, was no longer a threat to the various market stalls and shop-owners who ran them, and they had already accepted that the damage done had been done. Although it may be bumpy, the people of Ra'Katha would move on from today as the newest citizens of the Confederacy.

​

[member="Valencia Hadley"] | [member="Gerwald Lechner"] | [member="Bastille Rommer"]​

​

Drinking and celebration echoed throughout the halls of the Kemotat Palace. Although there were those who still were reserved in opinion about their new government, they held their peace and joined in the merriment as the festivities extended long into the night. Although it was not a smooth ride, Ra'Katha had elected to join the Confederacy, and that was cause enough for celebration, was it not?

The Dominion of Ra'Katha has officially drawn to a close. However, feel free to continue your individual stories and enjoy the dunes of Ra'Katha!​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Objective: Veiled Threat - Outskirts
Outfit: Type A
Tags: [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Alluria Ivalice"] | [member="Lunara Azure"] | [member="Eternal Storm"] | Open

"Oh," Cali tilted her head a bit to the side, "that is unfortunate. Whimsy doesn't let people just kill their employees, you know? 'Uncommon Means of Destruction', you know? You wouldn't see it coming." The pink one shrugged with a smile.

These guys are really thick. Might need you.

Not that Cali wanted the other woman's help. Much as Whimsy likely would respond, Cali wasn't interested in dying if she had a choice.

"Also," she lifted a hand and concentrated on her breathing, "you really want to accept my offer." Were they weak minded? Well if they weren't she was ready to start throwing people around the room without laying a finger on them. Big guys with nasty swords first. At some point these guys would buy a hint, right? Was glowsticking necessary? This xenophobia was getting out of hand.

Guess she found someone of some importance though. Even if they were thick.