Dark Nebula [A Lords of the Fringe Mission]

[Aran Finn]

OOC: Loose posting order, much like a dominion. I'll be posting to this every few days, and will be handling all NPC and obstacles. Have fun all!

Hyperspace, nearing the Tingel Arm​

​

Aboard the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer Eclipse Prime, Alen Na'Varro's personal flagship ...​

​

{You are chosen, apprentice. Anointed by the gods to rule the realm of sentients. Anointed by the Force itself. You are a vergence..} The gargantuan, ebony Sith Lord circled his apprentice, eventually stopping behind him and placing both huge hands on each shoulder. {The galaxy calls for a strong hand to lead them. It calls for peace. For too long, this collection of matter that is at once both titanic and a speck of dust in the eye of the almighty has been brought down by strife. -We could be so much more, apprentice.- And you will make it so.}

Darth Invictus relinquished his hold on his apprentice's shoulders, summoning the power of the Dark Side to him. The apprentice then witnessed a miracle ... before him, the cold steel of the meditation chamber transferred into the universe itself. At once, he perceived everything had been and everything that would be, swirling around in a collection of matter that thrummed with the divine. It was glorious.

{Rise as Darth Strider, Dark Lord of the Sith, and claim your birthright.} The apprentice look downed at his hands. They had clenched into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms and drawing blood. Then he looked back at the universe, the mental singularity that his Master had just created. Not thinking, not truly perceiving, the young apprentice spoke.

{No.}

The blow that followed cracking into his dome with brute force, and darkness swiftly followed-

Na'Varro snapped awake instantly, finding himself sitting upright in his bed with sweat pouring down his face and chest. Mouth open, he realised he had screamed ... this was strange. It wasn't like the nightmares he usually experienced ... there was no sharp shock of fear, only a prevalent sense of the deepest dread. And unlike most of the time, he had a feeling that he knew what this was all about ... the bearded man just hoped that he was wrong. Na'Varro could not claim the ability of Farsight, his dreamscapes were far too random and their meaning were far too elusive. But this, this was different. The Dark Side was toying with him ... he only hoped he could overcome whatever it planned to throw at him with the resources and people that he had.

After a quick, cold shower, Na'Varro dressed and headed down to the main mess. The others would likely be down there already, assembled for a mission that very few of them knew anything about. It would only be fair to let them know why they were here, and what exactly they would be facing ... then there were the rewards at the end.

If they survived at all...

Spoiler

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"] [member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Lucien Cordel"] [member="Nickolas Imura"] [member="Lucianus Adair"] [member="Kitt Solo"] [member="Chrysothemis"] [member="Dak Canton"] [member="Alaric Grimsby"] [member="Antera"] [member="Lord Daemos"] [member="Selinica Miriya Cailis"] [member="Anders Sivas"] [member="Moira Skaldi"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The main mess of the Eclipse Prime suited a ship of this grandeur and scale. Fundamentally, though, it was still just a cafeteria with a breakfast line, and Ashin Cardé Varanin poked at her forlorn flatcakes with a genuine Erodus Spork. The reconstituted nuna eggs had been, like all nuna, tasty, but the flatcakes were having issues. Too many generations removed from actual grain, perhaps.

"I find your flagship's flatcakes lacking, Na'Varro," said the conqueror of ten thousand worlds.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer reached over and grasped Ashin's plate and shoved the flatcakes onto her own plate. If the woman was going to just poke them and complain, Spencer would relieve her of her duties. She quickly cut through them and smothered them in the sweet nectar of syrup and continued to eat keeping quiet and showing her appreciation of the food. With a mouth partially full she pointed her fork towards Ashin. "When did you become a food critic?"

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Na'Varro's head rotated ninety degrees and fixed his fellow Arbiter with a pointed glare. He'd just experienced a nightmare of epic proportions and had accumulated two hours sleep for the night ... maybe. He didn't need this crap.

"Deal with it," replied the cranky Dark Jedi Master, who currently had a blood to caf ratio in his veins that was too damn high.

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"]

But I was going to eat it anyway passed through her head as her wife stole her flatcakes. The man who'd put a lightsabre through her trapezoid got a flat, hard grin, all tooth. "Good morning to you too." She gestured around at the cafeteria, a little flick of her fingers. "And isn't it a beautiful day. So. You've brought an awful lot of Fringe's leadership on this particular errand. You're not the type to try for a coup d'état -- your flatcakes prove you lack that kind of hubris-soaked self-regard. Which means we're bound somewhere very dangerous.

"Not that I'm complaining. Apart from those execrable flatcakes."

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer seeing that [member="Ashin Varanin"] was busy talking again, she slid her fork across the distance between them and started to poke at her Nuna eggs. Doing her best to remain quiet and unnoticed, she did flash the man who seemed quite grumpy a smile as she exacted his unknowing revenge on the former Empress.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen waited for Varanin to finish her sentence, flashing [member="Spencer Jacobs"] a warm, genuine smile as she started work on her wife's Nuna eggs. Good, he thought grumpily.

"Not that I'm complaining. Apart from those execrable flatcakes." The bearded Arbiter frowned, grumbling as he shuffled past and making sure that Ashin saw the middle finger that was slowly rising from his right-handed fist. "Keep complaining and I might surprise you."

Scowling, Alen poured an extra strength caf from the dispenser into his styrofoam cup, starting to gain energy from the smell alone.

"Don't ever change, lady." Middle finger still sky high and aimed at Ashin, Alen sat down next to Spencer and waited for the rest of the tardy bunch to grace them with their presence.

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Lucianus Adair]

One of the strange quirks of being a K'paur - even when hybridized - was the seeming lack of a need for anything beyond three hours of sleep every couple of nights, compared to... say, a human. That upon entering the mess hall and seeing [member="Ashin Varanin"] verbally needle the flatcakes, and [member="Spencer Jacobs"] stealing them, his gaze settled on [member="Alen Na'Varro"] looking quite a bit less than his usual self. He felt little more than the mildest of concern - not for his overall wellbeing, but for his efficient function and if the Fringe Arbiter and Eclipse man said nothing about it, Adair would not ask. After fetching a plate with scrambled nuna eggs, and nerf sausages - he would not tempt fate with a stack of flatcakes today - he joined the rest of the group, plunking himself down across from Na'Varro and Jacobs.

"Morning," he rumbled, cutting into a sausage, his eyes drifting to the only other man in particular. "You look absolutely punchy today, Na'Varro," he deadpanned, popping a morsel of sausage into his mouth.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"]

That hard-edged grin remained. "The Flatcake Coup. It'll go down in history." She'd arranged to lose power, taken herself out of the Fringe's leadership, and instituted democracy more to have a chance of turning the governing over to someone worthwhile than out of any respect for the principle. Na'Varro as Emperor or some such wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Didn't stop her from pondering ballistokinesis and the spork. Instead, with the aid of her gimer stick cane, she got up and went for another round of eggs.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer being the lazy type hoped [member="Ashin Varanin"] would be wise enough to bring enough for the both of them. Of course as [member="Alen Na'Varro"] sat down she eyed his belongings and realized he was your typical old spacer dude and only drank strong...and sludgy looking caff. Giving the man a weird look as she pulled her head away from his drink, she eyed the next comrade [member="Lucianus Adair"] and noticed he had eggs too, but alas his was near and possibly under the nerf sausage.

Sausage...meat...gross.

Sticking her tongue out, she waited for Ashin to return...hopefully with eggs...yumm eggs - though she knew the woman wouldn't bring flatcakes...they weren't that bad. "I like the flat cakes!"

 

[Aran Finn]

Sipping the strong caf with a pissed-off expression that was still lingering on his face, Na'Varro's middle finger slowly moved from Varanin to Adair.

"No one likes a smartarse, Luc." He hoped the familiarised shortening of the first name would irk the Sith. With a couple more sips of caf, though, the Arbiter began to feel his mood brighten somewhat. He still wasn't winning any "sunshine of the Eclipse Prime" awards, but he was feeling a little more reasonable. And maybe a little less agitated.

"Hey Varanin!" he hollered after the retreating figure of the former Sith Empress. "Bring all the flatcakes they have!"

[member="Spencer Jacobs"] [member="Lucianus Adair"] [member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

Ashin returned with a mountainous platter of eggs, and a small dessert plate holding one sorry-looking flatcake. She began to eat the eggs. With her gimer stick, she prodded the little plate with the lone flatcake until it sat in front of her fellow Arbiter.

"It might seem like I'm trolling you, Na'Varro. And it does give me a little pleasure to give you this solitary flatcake. However, thanks to my insatiable wife, that is, in fact, all the flatcakes they have."

She continued to eat eggs. Presumably, the rest would show up at some point.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien hated mess halls, especially public ones. It wasn't the principle of them that he hated, more the clientele, too many people with little to no perception of dining etiquette. He was not impressed when he stepped into the Mess Hall of the Eclipse Prime, Not only were his fears confirmed but he was also late. Of course it would be poor manners to criticize his hosts facilities whilst he was actively partaking in them, so he would keep his thoughts to himself.

He sat down on the table that held the other leaders of the fringe "Good Morning" He said mustering all the cheerfulness he could, he was lacking in that regard. Then he realised that this Dining establishment had no servers, He would have to fetch his own food. He turned to his assistant who had take a seat next to him "bring me an edible breakfast and a cup of stimcaf, a premium brand if possible" His assistant returned a short time later bearing what resembled "Food" He supposed. Lucien did have to admit he was hungry so he ate it anyway.

 

[Darth Vazela]

Spoiler

OOC: Adding something interesting to the thread, but not really participating. Only one post.

To clarify, I am not on the Eclipse, it's just a Force Vision for Ashin and Spencer lol.

| [member="Ashin Varanin"] | [member="Spencer Jacobs"] |

To the doors of the caferitia on board the Eclipse Prime, came movement, as they slid into the walls either left or right. To the others that surrounded Ashin and Spencer Varanin, who remained oblivious to the strange event that was about to occurr for them both, emerged a dark robed, hooded figure that was a familiar sight to the two women, if only via the five or six times they had met the man that was underneath the cowl.

Vilox Pazela came to a stop just behind the assorted group of Fringers, center to Ashin's view. His hands slowly rose to the cowl of his dark robe and began to lower it from his head to reveal... blood. Indeed, the Sith Lord that she had convinced to abandon the Sith Empire, thus becoming a factor in it's inevitable defeat to the hands of the Republic, did not look good. Pain could be sensed through the force throughout the thirty seconds or so that Ashin and her wife Spencer, who had a natural grasp on these things, felt and gazed upon the man they knew as Darth Vazela. It became apparant that the Dark Master was in trouble via this Force Vision.

Leaning his head to the left as he did so, a droplet of blood began to fall to the floor, in slow motion. Vazela mouthed something as the droplet of red fell towards the ground and if the two Jedi Masters were able to lip read then they would understand him to be mouthing: "Help."

It was at that moment of understanding that the droplet of blood would hit the grey floor and suddenly, like it had never happened, Vilox Pazela's darkened image was gone. There was no blood on the floor and the doors hadn't even opened. A strange phenomenon that only invited one question...

What did it all mean?​

Coruscant, Galactic Courts of Justice.

Vazela continued to gaze upon [member="Persephone Callas"] and the other Senators that had turned up for the hearing. Jedi Master [member="Vulpesen"] and his Jedi Padawan were beside him. He even sensed Kiskla Grayson and Sarge Pottiger in the vicinity. As he listened to their deliberations, saving the precise moment to answer and reply in order to communicate that it was he who had turned himself up and various other reasons why he was no longer a threat to the Galactic Republic, that he thought about a certain Jedi Master.

"What an extraordinary turn of events you set in motion Ashin Varanin, even if you didn't intend to do so or not," he thought to himself.

 

[Antera]

There was something comforting about being aboard a capital ship once again, and the chiss entered the mess with a bit of extra energy in her step. Her eyes glanced back and forth between the gathered movers and shakers of the Fringe Confederation who had arrived in the cafeteria before her, and promptly made her way towards the provided sustenance.

She wasn't entirely certain what she had done to earn an invitation to this mysterious assignment, but assumed that between her growing reputation as a relic hunter and her brief encounters with Na'Varro and his Eclipse associates, she must have made an impression somewhere along the way. Or maybe it was just dangerous enough he'd decided to hire a few expendable bodies, just in case. The specifics of why could wait, however. For now, there was sausage, toast, and jam.

She sat with a few empty chairs between herself and the rest of the assembled crew, offering a quick, "Good morning," to those seated further down the table before cutting her sausages into small bite-sized morsels.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"] [member="Lucianus Adair"] [member="Lucien Cordel"]

 

[Chrysa Vanagor]

She was late, and that, she mused, was simply unacceptable. It simply would not do to be seen in a negative light so soon after her arrival.

Making a mental note to set her next alarm a tad earlier, Chrysothemis smoothed out the soft silken tunic she wore, the fabric fluttering around her as she walked. She was thankful she'd packed warm clothing for a mission she knew so little about, as the Eclipse Prime was perhaps not the warmest space vessel she'd ever traveled on. Warm leggings tucked into knee high boots, which clicked along the decking outside of the mess hall at a staccato pace until she arrived at the door. She paused for a moment, before entering through the door that had helpfully slid open.

The assemblage of members was something of note, from across the ranks and specialties that the Fringe held under its banner. It was impressively eclectic, and very much made her wonder why she was there. But it didn't matter. Lucianus had summoned and she had answered, in spite of the temptation that existed to defy him, simply to see what he'd do.

Chrysa put together a plate for herself, a decidedly hearty breakfast complete with a cup of caf. She prepared a second mug as well, before carrying everything to the table that people had congregated around. Setting her things down beside Lucianus, she set the mug of midnight black caf meant for him near his plate and settled into the seat. The young woman remained silent, but inclined her head politely to anyone who glance at her by way of greeting.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Antera"] [member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Lucianus Adair"] [member="Lucien Cordel"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

@Antera Alen Na'Varro Ashin Varanin Spencer Jacobs Lucianus Adair Lucien Cordel @Chrysothemis

[SIZE=10pt]She had a bleep-good excuse for being late. Against several outraged beeps and warbles, she had managed to commandeer part of the Star Destroyer’s kitchen – well, a small part. The hotcakes couldn’t be helped. Something about programs and orders were orders…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Balancing a large platter filled with warm chocolate croissants, fruity-tarts, and other assortments of pastries, she strolled into the cantina, placing it down between [member="Spencer Jacobs"] and [member="Chrysothemis"] with an unceremonious thud. “Mornin’ lovelies.” Outside, she was a beaming, bucket of Southern Corellian sunrise, sunshine. Inside, she was tired and a little concerned over Alen. Planned or not, her room was next to his.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]She felt his emotions through the thin walls and heard his scream before she snuck down to the kitchen. Stuffing a bite full of eggs into her mouth, she slid next to Na’Varro and helped herself to a sip of his caf before choosing a pastry of her own from the heaping plate to nibble on. Stang, Alen took his coffee strong.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Thank the stars [member="Anders Sivas"] wasn’t here yet, he’d see right through her pseudo-sunny disposition.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“I’ll take my coffee with one extra cream, next time,” grinning lopsidedly, she nudged Na’Varro’s shoulder lightly with her own, the quiet jab meant for his ears only as her eyes studied his face, unspoken concern flickering in the myrtle-depths. [/SIZE]

 

[Theodore Silvers]

Alaric, who was well-known for his lack of orientation, had taken an hour to reach the mess hall. During that hour he was so lost that he three times arrived at the engine room where he was annoyingly sent away by the crew, each time being guided thoroughly on how to reach the mess hall, and each time he failed only to end up being at the engine room again. His hood always covering his face, the whole figure of Alaric radiated some sort of intimidating mystery and arrogance, yet his clumsiness was contrast to all that making him a quite interesting character to others. After that hour of brooding around the ship, he had made it to the mess hall.

The doors opened and he entered a typical caffeteria that you would meet almost everywhere in the galaxy. Nothing special, except for the gathering of people there. He believed most of them were part of the mission that he was assigned to. Alaric hated to be assigned, he hated working with people as well. As a matter of fact he hated almost everything. The things he did not hate could be counted on the fingers of one of his hands, or the hand of a trandoshan. He took a quick glance at everyone, they all seemed engulfed in conversation.

The dark-side enthusiast walked to where he would grab food and his picky nature dismissed almost every meal there was offered. Disgusting. That's what he thought at looking at some people in the mess eating their breakfast. How could you possibly eat that? Alaric was surely not a morning person, actually he was a non-morning person all day everyday. He grabbed a cup of coffee only to put horrible amount of sugar in it and attempted stealthily to go to a table a bit further from all the people. His clumsiness and the fact of being fated as being one of the most unlucky people in the galaxy struck again. He accidentally bumped into one of the used tray holders and a wave of trays with leftovers ran down before him. In his attempt to stop the sudden chain of reaction he had caused, Alaric dropped the cup of coffee on the ground, the liquid that was already on the ground reacted to his sudden movements and made him slip and faceplant the ground. The picture was truly a colorful one, as if a Nazgul, a terryfying being of great power, suddenly slipped and smashed its face on the ground. All the curses that could exist in any language across the galaxy were spat out from Alaric's mouth. He stood up suddenly, his hood still somehow in place, almost losing balance again and like cat fled the scene going straight at a table as further as possible from all the commotion and sat there with his back turned to everyone and a pose as if nothing had happened.

@Everyone

 

[Garza]

Oh this was not good.

I was standing at the end of the line getting all this food. It was so good! Well thats me when I have had only a few months to take in the amount of food that I had. If I were an adult with a low metabolism, I would have been a good 300kgs. But as I was still in my youth, and worked out regularly, I was gifted to eat all that I want. But that was not was "not good" I was moving towards the table where all the Masters sat.

Well and since last time that I had been around a Female, I was kicked in the ass. Well more so thrown a few hundred feet in the air. STILL! I was not used to all these people. I was nervous. And you could tell. Moving to the table in which almost everybody sat, I was near the end of the table, just listening in to what people were saying on what all of these people were here for. And it looked as though the man in charge was kind of pissed off. I would try to stay away from him for now. The woman who was a High admiral was always close on my tongue. I feel like I had seen her before. But I don't remember seeing a woman so old? I mean no disrepect, I was supposed to be a little over 30 years old, but this woman was clearly older.

I stayed silent as people were sitting there talking about what may have been happening. But what was worse you ask? Well, My master was sitting with them all. And that just sent me over the edge. I knew that he was going to be watching me. and seeing as how I was probably the newest recruit here, I would have alot of people shaking their heads at me. but, I had to be ready for anything.

Maybe.

[member="Alaric Grimsby"], [member="Kitt Solo"], [member="Chrysothemis"], [member="Antera"], [member="Lucien Cordel"], [member="Ashin Varanin"], [member="Alen Na'Varro"], [member="Spencer Jacobs"],

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Sweat poured down my body as I stepped into the refresher. I'd worked out from 0600 - 0700. Punching bags helped to get the demons out, see. Couldn't sleep without wakin' up to nightmares. Mess was scheduled at 0730. I stepped into the refresher and a few minutes later I stepped out. No, ladies, you don't get details, alright? I showered fast and cold and that's all y- damnit. Screw explainin'.

Anyway, I towled off and donned a grey-t and black cargopants. I strapped on the thigh holster that held my concussion pistol - had to make a new one after leavin' the old one behind on a mission - and stomped toward the mess hall in my boots.

When I arrived I immediately grabbed a cup of pure black coffee, then headed for the griddle. I stopped short when I got there, then growled, "Who ate all the damn flatcakes?!"

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Kitt Solo"] [member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"]