Déjà Vu? This Isn't the Matrix! [Lords of the Fringe Dominion of Karfeddion]

[Lucianus Adair]

Karfeddion - It sounded one part backwater and nine parts stuck up, but the planet was centralized in the spade outlined by three routes of trade, and offered a fair staging point for operations in several valuable sectors nearby. Otherwise, there would be little point in coming to this world, except for one more thing: the resurgence of slave breeding programs on the world. This was a thing with which most galactic governments had an issue, no less the Fringe.

A lot of the efforts of the the Unknown Regions government had went into putting down slaving operations until some time before the disappearances struck. Without laws for the sake of freedom ruling the lands, the more questionable ‘traditional’ habits of many worlds were coming into play again. Some would say it was the natural state of the galaxy.

Others would say such abuses of freedom are unnatural.

Suggested Objectives:

1. Take control of the Karfeddion Spaceport

2. Put a stop to the slave breeding programs

3. Capture/Kill (and should you wish, replace) the ruling Lord of House Vandron

Have a different objective in mind? Go ahead!

 

[Hira Mitsae]

House Vandron

It was a fact of life that Darrell Irani did not particularly care about Karfeddion either, though this one was far more valuable than th planet of Parchello. After finishing up his business there, and making sure that his interests would be protected either way the coin would fall, Irani simply followed the destruction, mayhem and subsequent order reappearing after the Rapture decided to throw the Galaxy back into chaos after the Gulag. The Fringe Confederation could never have been stamped as subtle, effect? Definitely, but subtle was not a word in their collective dictionary.

Perhaps they were simply too busy with killing monsters to really give a feth, it didn't really matter to Irani anyway. These events were the kind of events a man could use to propel himself upwards, let's forget for a moment that inherently Darrell was already part of the rare one procent and focus on the important part.

Darrell was currently standing outside the gates of an ancient and rich manor, it was the ancestral home of the House of Vandron, the businessman was not interested in taking over the House, become the Lord Ruler of a fairly more important planet - that was not his game, he was in here for the long con. Instead, he was simply here to make sure this Lord would be loyal to the Fringe... and perhaps to his interests as well.

Would it work? Let's find out.

 

[Arage Bao]

Karfeddion Spaceport

It was something in the smell that caught me off guard, live on Nar Shaddaa long enough and you can spot it from miles away. Fear, angst and that particular scent of hopelessness. I ain't aware yet that the Fringe had arrived though, so for me this scent is strange and baseless. See we had just come back from Porchello, managed to evac the Underground - casualties aside, we were lucky to get out as we did. I managed to smuggle out a couple of bigwigs from the planet, peeps who weren't interested in the Fringe's 'protection', ahead of schedule though, so you can imagine how big my payday was.

Enough to make [member="Simone"] a pretty happy girl, regardless of the scars. [member="Alec Rekali"] wasn't too unpleased either when I cut her into the action for her help, that's what ya do for family. Look out for 'em, even if we were all the scum of the earth.

Anyway, I am sitting here in one of the shady dens occupying the spaceport, ain't here for business, that would come later. Just wanted to have a small break while my agents were looking out for opportunities, because that was the real thing. I might dislike the Fringe, I might not like how they waltz in and pretend to own the place.

But, if we are real honest? The moment they step foot on a planet my prices and earnings skyrocket, a man can't be at least a little bit in love with that kind of linear equation.

 

[Arage Bao]

The Pits; Karfeddion

Karfeddion, latest in the line of planets we are trying to liberate. Funny word that. 'Liberate', when I was younger I detested what the Fringe was doing here, pressing planets into its collective and pretending to protect 'em. When ya look at the inhabitants of the worlds few if any really want the Fringe to come and get 'liberated', but now that I see what the feth is happening here? Breeding pits for slaves? Men and women degraded for the pleasure of a few filthy rich? It made my stomach churn and it made me realize that perhaps not all people knew what was exactly good for them.

So they would show them exactly what was proper and what ain't.

I am perched on a hill overlooking one of the valleys of Karfeddion, lush planet that, but what's happening here? Ain't nothing so lush about it, slaver encampment, pretty heavy fortifications tell me that the Karfeddions don't really care what's happening here, the screams coming outta the camp tells me the slaves do really care what happens here.

Rage was coursing through my veins, adrenaline, all the like. It was trying to get me moving, take the breath and destroy the camp, but that ain't a possibility now. Breath was erratic at best now and a dead sentence at worst, besides. I am just scouting here for the main event.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Nui Akona"]

THE PITS

A quiet man -- short, muscled, head shaven -- crawled up to the crown of the hill beside Nui, his lanvarok rasping in the dirt. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. The air tasted like fear, despair, human waste, blood. Like the deepest levels of the pits on Hellgotha, the ones where a gang managed to seal off a cave system with their rivals inside. And then just...left them there, with maybe one food reprocessor. Eating soylent green until the laws of thermodynamics kicked in.

"Takes a lot to get me feeling morally offended. This just might do it."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The star destroyer Chimaera took high orbit over Karfeddion, high enough to minimize the firing arc covered by the planet. Energy torpedo projectors had an effective range of about three point eight million kilometres -- very low punch, but very high accuracy, even with a minute's separation between launch and impact at that range. 0.2c covered a multitude of ills. That distance was about two orders of magnitude larger than what Ashin and the Chimaera needed to shoot someone in the same orbit on the other side of the planet. A handful of Hood-class cruisers armed with Hellbores -- same range, much higher rate of fire -- bracketed the planet from widely divergent directions. It was Fringe's standard harrying formation, practiced many, many times, more than capable of sniping anything serious that took off from the planet.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He wasn't a fan of slavers.

He wasn't a fan of pompous people.

He was a fan of space ports.

With his D5 Mantis Tiburon loaded with a landing party of droids and ready to escort any landing craft, he awaited the real space reversion. Keeping busy was how he was going to keep from going mad about Kelly being missIng.

"Strike team has reported in, sir." Said one of the droids. Coren merely nodded and flipped to contact the bridge.

"Starchaser to Chimera actual. We'We're deploying for thr spaceport. Clear us a path?"

there were a few combat vessels like his own, smugglers and those kind of pilots. The good kind. But divine intervention would be nice to take any AA weaponry down.

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

Ashin touched the comms panel on the arm of her command throne. "Chimaera to Starchaser. We've targeted ground-to-air emplacements around the north side of the spaceport. Those farther south are protected by an energy shield. We can reduce your counterfire but we can't negate it without risking the whole port. Opening fire."

EVERYONE​

​

would note eye-searing beams crashing down at seven locations around the north side of the spaceport, and seven anti-air emplacements vanishing in fireballs. Energy torpedos ignited fuel, power cells, propellant, flak shells. The north end of the spaceport was now clear for ingress.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

The Pits
[member="Seren Ordavo"] and [member="Nui Akona"]

The gruff quiet men's brigade had arrived.

Malik Rodarch had found himself caught in the bowels of limbo after his tournament encounter with what seemed to be a rapping Yuuzhan Vong. If he were more trope savvy he might have seen what Chaos really was. Not realising how closely he had been perched towards the edge of the fourth wall Malik spent what seemed to be an age trying to make his escape from the very peculiar dimension.

Or was it all just a dream?

Nonetheless while he found himself trapped in a realm of panels he had missed an entirely different event, a great rapture that had brought an entirely different discord to the galaxy, not knowing, never knowing that he was supposed to be amongst the raptured.

However, that's a story for another place and time.

Joining the pair at the crest of the hill, Malik lay flat on his belly asharl panther companion Mullet ever present and joining him in a much more dignified crouch. He understood the crux of the situation here. Slavers bad. Liberation good. Given that he considered himself morally just, he could stand on this side of the situation and say:

“This ain't right.”

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"]

I almost spat before realizing that it ain't fekking dignified, Jedi or no Jedi, there were a couple of things I wouldn't do just yet. Give me a few more months with that darkside-infused beskar and I might change my mind on all of it. Point was, Malik had a good point, it ain't right. Other part of me, the warrior, the vong-blood that coursed through my more metaphorical veins was thinking another tune.

If they allow themselves to be kept in this station... perhaps they deserve to be enslaved.

It was a thought that terrified me, and yet somewhere in my gut, something thought that a part of it was true. Didn't mean I would let 'em get away with it though, ain't all that far away yet.

Pondered for a little while, before looking at Ordavo and the new guy. Rodarch. Didn't know much about the guy, but apparently he was an able fighter, which was all that I needed to know.

'Plan: We go in and kill them. Suggestions?'

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Malik Rodarch"] [member="Nui Akona"]

"Proposed refinement to the plan. You hold my beer while I go in and kill them."

The base of a bottle thudded into the dirt, deep enough to anchor it, and Seren crawled past it. He moved down the hillside at a crouch, keeping to cover. Lightsabres were nice and all, but they were highly visible and they made noise. Knives, generally speaking, were better. Knives and lanvaroks and elbows.

The first to die was a Togruta sentry. Lanvarok discs to the face. He fell forward over the fence in a rain of montral bits. Seren jumped and caught the wall's edge.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

[member="Nui Akona"], [member="Seren Ordavo"]

Mullet snarled in response, picking up on the other man's tone of voice rather than the content of his words. Animals were smart like that, but in the same breath very stupid. He could say, 'prissy pink parasols' with the same inflections as he did at feeding time and would illicit the exact same response.

Daft brute. Fantastic companion.

Stun gauntlets on, ready to kiss chins (he'd affixed the large spikes for today's effort) and Big Rhonda the 8-gauge shotgun slung over his back. Old brutish technology, for an older brutish kinda guy. No frills, just punching power.

Beer down. Apparently things were already starting up.

“We're goin' then?” he chuckled in amusement, more to himself than to the others. Of course they were going.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"]

Snorted, good ol’ Ordavo. Was the entire thing here, there were few people I trusted in the galaxy these days. Seren was probably one of ‘em though, at least he hadn’t tried to screw me over yet. Which was about enough to call him a ‘friend’. Whatever that meant.

‘Aye, let’s roll.’ Mando seemed an alright sort, quiet, weird pet, but I ain’t gonna be judging. Don’t wanna know what kind of pet I had in the joint.

Vaulted and started into a run, quiet run, enchanted boots and armour meant that I could run and people nearby would only hear a whisper, if that.

Didn’t take in the breath though, too risky.

Pivot blade cut deep into the throat of the second sentry, the one Seren had missed.

I started climbing.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Malik Rodarch"] [member="Nui Akona"]

Missed was such a strong word. Generally used by people who loved the upper hand. Downright Incommy, in its way. Seren rolled onto the walltop; his lanvarok coughed again, and another sentry went down. A cry rose from a guard in the slave camp, and Seren jumped for him.

He didn't make it, not quite, just thudded into the dust and rolled it out. When he came up, a knife came with him, and then the guard didn't have a voicebox. The yelling continued, though; the moment's incongruity faded as Seren's head snapped around to face a third guard. Another knife found his hand. This was how such things were done: man by man, engagement by engagement, moving fast enough to keep out of concentrated fire.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

House Vandron

The entire scope of the plan was really simple in its equation, the Fringe was going to take most of the old Protectorate territory, that ain't a question of an if, it was the question of when. This meant a simple thing, chaos and from chaos erupts opportunity. The kind that allows a relative nobody on the market to cater himself to those in relative power and make sure they do what you want, and not what they wanted. It was the reason he came here to have some tea with the current patriarch and Lord of the illustrous House of Vandron.

Baltasar Vandron was not a simple man, one could even say he was a very difficult one. He had always loved his plans, his schemes to elevate the House even further in standing over the rest of the sector. And he had had success with it for a while now, until the Rapture of course. Then everything collapsed into each other, some of his foes were gone, but not as much as his ally count.

That was on an all-time low.

With the Fringe and the Reavers beating into the old sectors of the Protectorate, Vandron... didn't have a lot of options left.

He knew this, and so did Darrell.

The old heir of House Irani would walk into the saloon of Baltasar, the man sitting behind his desk trying to write some kind of... something. A cough made him look up, confusion apparent, followed by outrage, followed by something resembling acceptance. A difficult man indeed.

'My Lord Irani, you will forgive me my current appearance... things aren't as well as I hoped they would.'

The conversation had just begun.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

[member="Nui Akona"], [member="Seren Ordavo"]

Off they went, like the Legolas and Gimli of space. Wonder if they were keeping score with each other.

The aspect of climbing the wall wasn't really his idea of a good time. Felt like he was getting on a bit, joints a bit stiff, if he sat down for too long he could feel the ache when he stood up again. Just needed to be oiled up. Malik eyed the beer on that notion, considering finishing off the dregs of Baldy's brew.

Nah.

Mullet went next, leaving him in last place for the race. Rodarch was always surprised when he could see how far his moggy could really leap and climb. Felines moved like poetry, Malik moved like a brick. The panther had already leapt down into the camp by the time he had reached the top of the wall.

Jumping down with a loud armoured thud he could already hear the chaos that a rampaging and hungry large feline could cause. Mostly confused shouting, sometimes mild screaming. They'd all likely be dead by the time Malik got there.

He regretted not drinking that beer.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Malik Rodarch"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"]

As I already said, didn’t have the breath on me today. Meant I had to be careful on how to approach things, I couldn’t just bullrush my way through twenty soldiers at the same time and hope I would be okay, didn’t work that way without my magics.

Careful meant scaling the wall, landing on another sentry. Pivot blade dropping him down nicely, then I started looking for the higher ground, would be easier to pick stuff out there.

Two.

Gotta keep ‘em count.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Malik Rodarch"] [member="Nui Akona"]

Beer was good; keeping count was good; some things were better than either. Like evading a vibroblade stab, then reversing your momentum and punching a knife through a competent man's defenses. Like stepping into a guardpost and summoning an awful lot of cold. Fingers stuck to guns, batteries started to drain, flesh started to crystallize -- and because the Force really sucked right about now, Seren gave himself some bitter frostbite. Downside: a knife took longer to go through freezing meat.

Shivering violently, he stepped back out into the daylight and took a heavy blaster shot to the shoulder. Welcome heat washed over him as the bolt met beskar. He chucked the knife and missed, fingers still numb.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

[member="Nui Akona"], [member="Seren Ordavo"]

No finesse here.

His finesse was off playing graceful kitten. Mullet, served several uses, his current use was more for distraction. Guards would turn and take their shots at that swift and graceful creature, and ignore the lumbering ham-fisted one coming up from beind.

Shotgun out Rodarch finally made his death advance, setting his target upon the first man who had the misfortune of having his back turned while he tried to blast Mullet out of his paws.

Big Rhonda was primed and pointed, Malik had made it right up to behind the guy.

“ZEV! BEHIND Y-”

Scatter gun interrupted the moment in which we saw that even villains could be friends and care about them. Alas, the pellets eviscerated the man's head before he even knew about it. Slightly barbaric, but still felt just.

Unfortunately this action turned some of the blaster fire off of Mullet and onto him.

 

[Onith Trill]

"Man, we've been doing a lot of work lately haven't we." Another of the TA-1 droids says to no-one in particular.

"What do you expect? The galaxy broke. Who do you expect to fix it? The One Sith? The Republic? Omegans?" I ask him.

"Well, someone from father east could-"

"The Levantines keep to themselves, and the Silvers keep to their spas." I tell him. There are some other nations around, but none of them are really worth mentioning. Either long forgotten powers that are just holding to life or just rising powers that haven't become a threat yet. Though my calculations make me think that perhaps this is the best time for a new power to rise up, what with the chaos and all. Maybe the Ravens or Primeval will become a threat. For now though?

"Yeah, that's right." I reinforce, putting down a bit of what the organics would call 'smack talk'. "It's up to us. We may be droids, but we're the Lords of the Fringe. And you know what? The entire gorram galaxy is a Fringe now. Just waiting for us to take it." I say. Droids may not have hearts, but I know they have souls. A little moral isn't the worst thing in the world. Our dropship will touch down to the planet soon, and I'll be fighting more rebels. Hopefully I can find out more about this 'Rebellion Actual', so we can deal with our problem at the root.