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Catch Me if you Can -- CIS Dominion of Trendivar Hex

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M A N H U N T

Tag: Darth Miseria

Were these different times, he would have told her the stories.

As his little Dianah continued to walk the midnight path, her choices and tendencies reflected that of the mother she hardly knew. The Gray Goddess he once called her - a Sith who had been encased in carbonite for centuries. It was by pure happenstance that her Darkness radiated outside of her prison. Pure happenstance that it had caused a cult following on a distant world - and that Darth Metus had been sent to investigate. What followed was her release - and one of the greatest loves of the Sith's life. Though temporary. The bond long since severed, what Darth Metus had to remember her by were the children they had brought into the world.

And Darth Miseria was becoming every bit of her mother. Little did she know.

In the present, his Wrath was focused not upon the past - but upon those who had added difficulty to his daily life. Such folly would have to be answered. Thus, his voice had seethed against the Guards within the Palace. He demanded to know where their liege hid. And the response was the raising of blasters defensively. They did not know that he was coming. Some were ignorant and did not recognize the Vicelord when his face was covered. Such was their undoing. He raised not a hand, but simply tensed a finger. The Force was his weapon. The barrels of their weapons caved in on themselves. Shock caused many of the guards to drop their rifles immediately, opting to hastily reach for their sidearms.

The Sith chose one and dragged him forward by the Force. The seedy Human's visage came within mere inches of Darth Metus' mask. "You will be me to him. Now." Came his command. There was no threat. There was no or else. Those present had entered into a silent contract with the Sith Lord. Their lives hung in the balance. His whim could be their undoing. A hasty nod was given by the guard, followed by the flailing of his arms - signaling his peers to lower their weapons. "I'll take you! Please!" His finger eased. The man's feet returned to the ground. Shaking, the guard motioned for them to follow and led the way forward.

And as they advanced, Miseria would feel her sire's presence in her mind. The rumble of his wrathful voice echoing as if it belonged. That face...It looks like your mother.

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Darth Miseria

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M A N H U N T

Darth Metus Darth Metus

They would have been foolish to ignore him.

But much to Miseria’s surprise, silence had gripped the gathering of guards. Perhaps it was fear that kept their lips shut, or perhaps defiance. If it was the latter, they would soon be reminded of what a poor decision that was.

A hollow metal sound rang out through the hall as every weapon was bent into an unusable state. Miseria shuddered at the sudden use of a powerful force she had only just begun to grasp true understanding of. She still looked up in wonder and amazement, just as she had done as a child, when it came to her sire’s might. Sharp clatters followed as the majority of weapons were dropped to the ground, Miseria couldn’t help but smirk just a little. When one of the guards broke rank, moved by some unseen hand that dragged him unwilling across the floor toward Darth Metus, there was no doubt that they would soon be getting what they wanted.

His frightened voice was fuel for the fire of revenge that had surged Miseria to join her father on this mission. It reminded her of the fact that the rest of the Galaxy used strength as a facade, to hide the weaknesses that would surely be their undoing. With their goal clear, and their guides to lead them to it, Miseria set off at a stride beside her father.

One of her gloved hands reached up, unaware of her actions, to touch her hollow cheek. The warmth of her fingertips spread through her skin in an instant, and Miseria forced herself to quickly return to the placid stance she had once held. Does it? Her own voice was much quieter, sweet with an almost timid quality, in his mind than his was in hers. Miseria may have been the dominating personality at the present moment, but she would always be his daughter. No matter what face she wore.

It had never occurred to her to question what had become of her mother. In her youth, it had hardly occurred to her that she even had one. She had left, or died, long before Dianah had the capacity to form memories. The only parent she knew was Metus, and that was more than enough for her. Did she care for the story behind her creation? Did she care for the woman that had birthed and then abandoned her? Miseria firmly refuted it, but Dianah couldn’t. She had gotten this far in life without knowing, it seemed silly now to break the streak, but everyone deserved to know their parents, didn’t they?

Musing on whether or not to ask him to divulge more information had taken the entire walk from the main hall to wherever the guards were taking them. So by the time Miseria had come to the decision that she would have liked to know… there was no time to ask. Before them stood a double door, thick and ornately carved. Miseria waved a hand, a flush of force building up pressure on the stained wood until they flew open aggressively, crashing so hard into the marble walls behind them that a fine spray of dust settled over the floor.

“After you.” She spoke aloud to her sire without turning to look at him.

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M A N H U N T

Tag: Darth Miseria

The response was as rain to Wrath.

Though an inferno burned within the pit of his stomach, the voice of his daughter was a tempering Force. In his particular mood, he could very well have brought down the palace onto the heads of the Hutt and his ilk - and not batted an eye in the process. The willingness of the guard to comply with his demand was one that had purchased them mercy. For now. Yet the voice of his child had quelled the ember to some extent. Depending upon the response of the Hutt, the palace might yet live to see another year of decripit usage.

It was hard not to feel the confilict roiling within his daughter as they walked. Though the terror of the guard leading the way rolled off him waves - it was nothing compared ot the battle locked inside her mind. He knew the conflict all too well - the struggle of Miseria versus Dianah. It was the same struggle that he waged long ago. When he was a far younger man, the allegiance of Isley Verd was tied to Mandalore. But, the allegiance of Darth Metus was tied to himself. It was fortunate that the Mandalorian regimes turned against those blessed in the Force - as it made completing the internal conflict elementary. Yet, for his daughter, there was no such easy out.

Thus, he reached out once more. Not as the Titan of Darkness, but as the man who had guided her first steps. Taught her to speak. To read. And to wield the Darkness itself.

She was mighty. Ambitious. Cunning. But kind. he began, answering the questions that she had taken decades to ask. But, while she was excellent in all she undertook, there was one task wherein she failed. Mother. When all the Galaxy turned against me, I had placed her in charge over you and your siblings. Her sole duty was ensuring no harm came to you all - to her own flesh and blood.

In this, she failed. In this, she allowed your sister - Adela - to die. In this, she had chosen to play master of corporations over Mother. And due to this, our bond was broken. You have your mother's face - but never her failures.

With his piece now uttered, the Sith watched as Miseria thundered open the doors before them. The guard who had been their guide cowered away. Darth Metus stepped forward, his boots gliding upon the crimson carpet leading up to the Hutt's throne. The scowl returned, for seeing the slug's loathesome face soured his stomach. "Darth Metusss. What an unexpected pleassure." The accented Basic was an affront to the man's ears, and he came to a halt a few paces off from the Throne.

"Miseria. Kindly inform the Hutt as to why we're here."

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Darth Miseria

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M A N H U N T

Darth Metus Darth Metus

Miseria scrunched her face up.

She was right not to care about her mother, and she was a fool for feeling guilty for not even considering her existence. I had no idea… It was all she could manage to choke out. The sheer disappointment was plain as day in her tone. She had many siblings, spanning across many races, but she had never heard of any of their mothers being as big a let down as Miseria’s was to her in that moment. Though, the end of his short story did make her bristle somewhat with pride. When she had first left home it was to attempt to step out of the colossal shadow her Father cast over her, but now… Miseria wanted nothing more than to be in it.

To make him proud and make their name known and feared across the Galaxy. She was more than pleased to hear her efforts were not fruitless. Dianah made her turn, to face the hooded figure of her father and offer him a short, if slightly subdued, smile. That would be enough for him to know how pleased she was to hear his words.

Following him through the room where the hutt lay stretched out across a sofa, looking like something Miseria would have found in a gutter on Nar Shaddaa. She had never had a fondness for hutts. They were just as slimy as they looked. When he spoke, she practically shuddered. His tone of voice was thick with false honour, as though the hutt had expected them to arrive. Miseria turned to glance at her sire briefly when he asked her to take lead, though she didn’t hesitate in stepping forward to address him.

“We’ve been informed that you have a lead on a criminal wanted by the Confederacy.” Miseria paused briefly to pull the bounty fob from her pocket. “This says you're the one to talk to to get the intel.” It left her hand, flying through the air until it met with the marble floor, sliding to meet the fat lump of green flesh. “Where is Kaine Austrlias?” Her tone was much less imposing than her fathers, but it impressed the same amount of seriousness. It told the hutt that he had two choices: tell them what they needed to know or face the consequences.

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M A N H U N T

Tag: Darth Miseria

Reality was never one to be gentle.

In fact, reality often manifested itself as a cold slap across the face. Yet, in that moment of sting, clarity would often fill the mind. Reality had the power to rattle the insecurities off one's person. Reality had the might to quell internal struggles. And, in the case of Darth Miseria, Reality had been put to rest the quiet battle. Dianah was a woman who sought the love and understanding of her family. Miseria was a woman who basked in the Dark Side. And as Darth Metus divulged the details of her mother, the battle had been put to rest. Though disappointment reeked from her presence, the Sith was assured that his child would be better for it. He did not revel in smiting the gilded view of her mother - but it was a necessary evil.

Now she had returned to the path.

Upon entering the room, the being of filth before the Vicelord's gaze sat up in his throne. Opulence and excess defined the creature, for fruits were being fed to him by attendant droids, with others fanning his loathesome hide. Despicable. Miseria did well to announce why they came. The bounty fob - the source of the Sith Lord's frustrations - was hurled across the way until it clattered before the Hutt's throne. She explained their reason for being there, followed by a question. One that the Hutt was eager to answer. Its hands came together, a rapid series of nods saw the ripples of fat shudder before it spoke again.

"I thought you would be pleasssed." it said, motioning to the fob. "I had placed a bounty on the Butcherssss' head. The fob sssshould have ssseen him hunted down for you."

Darth Metus' scowl deepened. He left Miseria's side in but a few thunderous steps. Wrath building as he approached the fallen fob. The toe of his boot sent it skidding to the bottom of the beast's throne, so that its loathesome eyes could see the depths of its folly. "Is. That. So." he seethed.

Turning, he jutted his chin in Miseria's direction. "Oh child of mine...Do I look like the Butcher of Eshan to you?"

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Outfit: XXX
Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Rylan Kordel | Morrigan Vale | Vanir Eris | Arro Peradun

Redd was only briefly annoyed at how someone else had injected themselves into their conversation with little to no regard that the lupine didn’t know who they were. However, the irritation was quickly swept under the rug when she took another sip of the golden liquid and she swayed slightly upon her seat, before quickly placing the mug back down upon the table so then not to spill it. That was until the man ruffled her hair and she growled at him with green eyes shifting to pure gold. Her now free hands lifted to command the hair that had been ruffled, back into some kind of order. Now the man had the audacity to touch her as well? What was wrong with this male?

As pale fingers combed her hair, she began to think back over what the man had said before he had so rudely touched her. Rarely did she ever let anyone touch her and she was tempted to shift and rip the male’s hand off to prove a point. However, she just… Didn’t feel like it. It was almost as if the drink had given her the magical gift of not giving any care in the world to slights that people made right now and the lupine mumbled words that were basically nothing more than simple gibberish to herself. If anything, the words sounded like slurred pig Latin if she was actually versed in the language, but she wasn’t. So, gibberish it turned out to be.

”Hoooldinggg your liquor, s-soundssss dumb.” Redd finally said as she picked up her drink. ”W-Why hooold yooourrr liquuoorr wheeenn yooou cannnn ddrrinkk it?” The lupine was thinking along the lines of literal right this second, because she just wasn’t at all in the thinking kind of mood when it came to in depth thought processes. Quietly, she looked to the man and sniffed the air. He smelled funny. A lupine but not really. Was he something else? Her head angled to the right then as she lifted a hand to her nose. Did alcohol make her smell things different? Was he lupine and the alcohol just made her smell the scent differently? Her gaze shifted back to Gerwald and drew in the man’s scent. No, he smelled like lupine but this new male was different? She looked back to Vanir again and drew in his scent.

Her right hand shifted to rub at her nose then and she leaned forwards to sniff at her drink. Confusion shimmered within her eyes as she looked back to Vanir and then again to Gerwald. Her gaze drifted between the two who apparently knew each other for a few repeats and then she rested her hand upon her drink, only to pick up the mug and drain it. Slowly she leaned towards Vanir, ”Whooo aaarrre you?” Redd paused and her fingers kept a grip around her empty mug as she sniffed at the man again. ”Wh-Whaat arree you? You dooon’tt smell noormall.” Indeed, she was confused by this man. She could understand different species of shifters. Like a Felacatian that could turn into a cat, but this one smelled part lupine but not really a lupine so what was he?

”Youu’ree noot n-normall, arree you sick?” Redd finally asked as she deduced that he must be sick if his scent smelled rather off. Because her sniffer was working just fine. The drink smelled normal and Gerwald smelled normal, but Vanir didn’t and so, he must be sick. What other possible solution was there? Unless she wasn’t really here and was dreaming that she was here. In that case, this was some strange dream.​

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Darth Miseria

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M A N H U N T

Darth Metus Darth Metus

It was hard not to be disgusted by the grotesqueness of a hutt.

Even sitting down, he was at least as tall as her father, if not a few inches more. His long slug like body stretched out over more feet than she cared to count. And the end of his tail kept… flicking. Back and forward. Back and forward. As though something or someone was getting on his nerves. When he began to speak, Miseria looked visibly disgusted. He was far too eager and far too quick to answer their questions on the fob. Darth Miseria didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and she doubted she could even pick him up, never mind the rest.

“No, Buir.” Miseria said in the same sweet tone she had used in his head. Aloud, it gave her an eerie quality, especially considering the dark force that ebbed from her every pour. “And unless the mirror I looked in this morning got switched out… I’m pretty sure I’m not him either.” Turning her unforgiving scarlet gaze onto the hutt, she could practically see the sweat pouring down his fat rolls. He had made a mistake, and he was only just starting to realise it. He looked panicked stricken as his eyes darted from daughter to father and back again.

Miseria cracked an unnerving smile, and without turning her head to face her father, spoke directly to him. “I don’t seem to recall you asking for hutt help to catch him either, Buir.” It was purposefully provocative, to show the hutt that he was indeed in as much trouble as he seemed to think he was. He had led them on a false path, and wasted not just her and the Vicelord’s time, but the Confederacy’s time too. A grave, grave mistake on the hutts part.

This time, she turned her head just an inch or two to face her father. “What shall we do with people who waste our time?” The giant thing shuffled uneasily, as much as his great weight would allow. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form properly. Instead the hutt just seemed to… bubble. Incoherent sentences that sounded like they’d come from a babe’s mouth, not a fully grown hutt. They did nothing to quell the smirk on Misera’s face.

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M A N H U N T

Tag: Darth Miseria

Time wasted indeed.

When the loathesome creature gazed upon the fob, the realization was damning. The direction posed by the device was not to some hovel on Trendivar. No - it pointed directly to the man who had kicked the piece over. It pointed directly at the Vicelord. Between this and the sickeningly sweet voice of Miseria, the Hutt knew that a grave error had been made. Not only had he wasted their time - but he had put the Vicelord's very head in the crosshairs. This could not, and would not, stand. "Thiss wass a misstake! Clearly I did not want you hunted." it stammered.

The Sith simply raised a finger, demanding silence.

"Ah ah ah." he began. "No excuses. You've wasted enough of my time."

That same hand descended to his belt, plucking forth the metal hilt which hung there. The lightsaber did not ignite in his grasp. The bloodshine blade remained dormant. Yet the symbol was very much evident - he held life and death in the palm of his hand. Darth Metus set his favored weapon within both of his palms, coiling his fingers about its form tightly. "Your mistake could have cost my life. Imagine what madness that would have caused." He took a step forward, braving the creature's stench to the point where his nostrils flared beneath his mask.

"Imagine what my people would have done if I had fallen by your folly."

He paused, before gently tapping one end of the saber upon the flat of his hand. "Fortunately, I am very much whole. And you have work to do. You will deactivate this fob. You will make certain not a single Hunter remains chasing this fool's errand. And, you will make no such efforts in the future." The demands made the utmost sense. And, as before, there was no threat of or else. For the Sith carried life and death in the palm of his hands. That was more than enough.

"Miseria. Inform our people of the Hutt's mistake. We've better things to do. Don't we."

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Darth Miseria

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M A N H U N T

Darth Metus Darth Metus

With bated breath, she waited.

It had been an age since she’d seen her father do work like this. It had been an age since she had heard his threatening voice, felt his thunderous power and watched someone tremble at his might. When he had offered her the position of Viceroy of Krant she had accepted it eagerly, thinking that it would have been a nice change, but the truth of it was… Miseria missed all of this. The danger, the tension, the adrenaline. She missed being by her father's side, she missed the rush of battle, and she missed the sheer unexplainable excitement of a stealth mission. Miseria missed all of it, and times like these were a sore reminder of it.

Miseria was more than a little disappointed that the hutt had not met a gruesome ending. She would have done it a little differently to her sire, but perhaps that was where they differed. Or where Miseria needed to learn. There was still so much to learn about him, and about the dark force they both commanded, and indeed about the faction they gave their lives too. This was why she chose to remain silent as her father spoke, and why she did not contest the hutt’s merciful fate.

With her eyes still glued on the hutt, Miseria stepped slowly away from the gathering, reaching for a comm that was tucked neatly away in her pocket. She brought up toward her lips and began to speak in a clear, rather elegant tone. “This is a message to all Confederate droids and forces on Trendivar. Disregard the bounty fob and return to your ships.” She paused for just a moment, to allow the comms to clear. “I repeat. All Confederate droids and forces on Trendivar. The bounty fob was a false lead. Please disregard and return to your ships.” A static fizz echoed for a moment as she removed her finger from the button and lowered the comm once more.

She did nothing to hide the expression on her face, the one that she directed at the hutt. Narrowed eyes and an incredulous look that showed her disbelief at his actions. He was one piss poor mistake away from toppling an entire nation, and he looked like he knew it.

He didn’t need Miseria or Metus to remind him. He was one lucky bastard.

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Colonel Reinhart tapped a pen against her datapad as her piercing gaze swept over the area.

Grand Marshal, it should be no surprise to learn that the B1 Droids were, once more, behaving erratically. Tiria had begun writing her field report to her commanding officer several minutes ago, but it was difficult to know where to begin. At one point they appeared to be engaged in a poor reenactment of a more unorthodox play. I feel the need to ask once more why the Confederacy does not wipe these units more often, or whether their programmers are in fact incompetent.

In better news, the supplies have been received planetside and are currently being distributed among the Hellknights and refugees where necessary. I recently received a report regarding some preliminary exercises conducted between personnel, and an accounting of many of the refugees on the planet. It is unclear how such a tally was taken so quickly, but I commend whomever conducted such a thorough survey.
Results of which were only trusted because the report contained a valid authentication code. The Colonel would have preferred to have known the identity of the officer involved, however. Perhaps she would look into that when time allowed.

Finally, Tiria began to conclude the report, it seems to come to no great surprise that the Target was not found on this world. It was worth investigating after recent events, but they were not to be found. I hope the other units have more luck in tracking them down.

In service of the Dauntless, Colonel Reinhart.


Tag: Luna Terrik Luna Terrik
 
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The Bounty FOB had proven to be a false trail.

An investigation launched by the Vicelord himself yielded a rather terrifying reality. Where many Confederates believed they were hunting the Butcher of Eshan, they were actually trailing the leader of their Confederacy. What began as a gesture of good faith had been sullied by careless hands - yet, thankfully, the error was rectified before any mistakes could have been made.

With the Hunt complete and the Joint Taskforce efforts underway, Trendivar would enjoy a smooth transition into the Confederate community. Though the times were alive with danger and adversaries on the horizon, the mission of the present proved that they were unphased. They would maintain their way. They would continue to bring prosperity, freedom, and progress to the Southern Systems.

And, hopefully, they would hunt the right target next time.

OOC//From this post, the Dominion will be turned in for staff review - Please feel free to continue your stories!

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