Bounty Edict of Exile: The Hunt for Aielyn Veralas

[Atheon Karis]

Grand Forum of Lumirith
Lumirith, Valisca Prime
Outer Rim Territories
​

The Grand Forum of Lumirith stood in solemn silence, its towering spires casting elongated shadows beneath the tri-moons of Valisca Prime. Banners hung still in the heavy air, embroidered sigils gleaming in the artificial light. The people had gathered in numbers unseen since the final coronation of their lost princess. Soldiers lined the plaza in pristine formation, their armor polished, their expressions hard. Nobles and merchants whispered among themselves, searching for meaning in the summons. But no meaning would come until he spoke.

And then, he did.

General Atheon Karis took his place at the grand podium, his gloved hands pressing against its surface. His expression was unreadable, his gaze cold. When he spoke, his voice carried through the plaza, resonant, unwavering, final.

"It was never supposed to come to this."

A hush fell over the assembly. Some stiffened. Others exchanged uneasy glances. But all listened.

"I have served Valisca Prime my entire life. I have bled for our people. I have sworn my fealty to our King and Queen, to their vision, to the unity that has held this world together for centuries. I have done so without question, without hesitation—until the day we were betrayed."

A shadow passed over his expression, though the controlled steel in his voice never wavered.

"She was to be our future. She was to be our guiding light. And yet, when the time came, when her people stood waiting for her return, waiting for their princess to stand beside them—she was gone."

A ripple of unease coursed through the crowd. A name left unspoken but hanging between every word.

"The Princess, Aielyn Veralas, has abandoned us."

The words dropped like a hammer, echoing through the Grand Forum.

A voice broke the silence—sharp, indignant, desperate.

"That's a lie!" a noble from the upper tiers bellowed, his voice cracking with disbelief. "The Princess would never—"

Karis' gaze snapped to the source, his voice cutting through the gathered masses like a blade.

"She would, and she did."

A pause, then a slow, deliberate breath.

"And the sooner you accept that truth, the sooner we secure our future."

A murmur spread through the assembly. Some gasped. Others clenched their fists. Karis pressed forward, his voice unshaken, each syllable a hammer against the crumbling foundation of what remained of her name.

"She fled into the stars, turned her back on her duty, her people, her own mother and father. And in doing so, she left Valisca Prime vulnerable, its fate uncertain. She has not returned. She does not wish to return. And I tell you this now—she will not."

Karis' fingers curled against the podium, his voice darkening, laced not with rage, but with something more dangerous—cold, measured disappointment.

"I pleaded with our sovereigns to see the truth. I urged patience, restraint. 'She will return,' they told me. 'She will see her error.' But the cycles passed, and she did not. Instead, she wanders the Outer Rim, hiding among outsiders, whispering poison to those who do not know our ways, those who would see our sovereignty undone. And mark my words—she will not remain in exile forever. One day, she will return, and when she does, she will not come alone. She will come with those who have no claim to our blood, our lineage, our world."

A breath. A pause. The weight of his words settled like stone upon the crowd.

"We cannot wait for her betrayal to reach our gates. We cannot wait for the war she will bring. We must act now, before her absence turns to an uprising."

Karis stepped forward, his figure looming, backlit by the flickering glow of massive holographic banners that now bore the sigil of Valisca Prime.

"From this day forward, she is no longer of the Aetherian Lineage. She is no heir. She is no princess. She is no Valari."

"Her name is erased from our records. Her bloodline is severed. And should she set foot upon Valisca Prime again, it will not be as a ruler, but as an enemy of the state—a fugitive to be brought before me in chains."

A silence stretched, deep and heavy. It was absolute.

"But this is not just about her. This is about us."

His voice shifted—not just one of condemnation, but of command. Of vision. His gaze swept across the assembled faces, noble and soldier alike.

"No longer shall we cling to the isolation of our ancestors. No longer shall we hide from the stars while lesser civilizations carve their empires. Valisca Prime shall not be left behind—we shall take our place among them. We shall wield our strength as we have always been meant to."

And then, the final decree—delivered not just to the gathered masses, but to the galaxy itself.

"Let this be known across the stars: The gates of Valisca Prime are open to all who seek fortune and power. The Hutts, the Empires, the Republics, the Alliances—it matters not. Whoever brings Aielyn Veralas to me alive shall be honored beyond measure.

10 million credits.

Access to Valisca Prime—for life.

She is no longer a daughter of Valisca—she is but a prize to be claimed."

​

Her name erased. Her legacy severed. No longer a princess—just a bounty, a prize waiting to be taken. 10 million credits. A life of privilege.

A deep exhale. A final glance across the sea of faces, each reflecting shock, reverence, or simmering acceptance. And then—thunderous applause. The clamor of voices, the pounding of fists against chests in salute, the swelling roar of a people given direction, given purpose. Given an enemy.

The hunt had begun.

 

[Atheon Karis]

The grand halls of the Forum gave way to dimly lit corridors, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of embedded data panels. Here, whispers carried no further than the walls that contained them, and secrets were as valuable as the weapons stored in Valisca's armories. Karis strode forward, his boots echoing in the stillness as he reached a set of reinforced doors—doors that led to an undisclosed chamber known only to those who operated beyond the sight of noble courts and bureaucratic oversight.

With a wave of his hand, the doors slid open, revealing a darkened chamber illuminated only by the flickering projections of several holograms—each bearing the distorted silhouettes of figures who rarely met in person. Some were veiled in static, encrypted to maintain anonymity, while others reveled in their visibility, their grotesque forms lounging in excess, knowing no fear of reprisal.

The Hutts. The Syndicates. The Warlords. The Brokers of Shadows.​

Karis took his place at the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back as he regarded the assembled figures. A Hutt, bloated and draped in the finest silks, chuckled through the haze of his spice-laced air, his guttural voice thick with amusement.

"Karis, Karis… such strong words, such lofty promises. I must say, I do enjoy when you Valari finally admit that you need… outside expertise."

A metallic voice cut through the room, one of the warlords leaning forward, cybernetic fingers drumming against the console.

"Is this a bounty? A contract? Or something more… lucrative?"​

Karis exhaled slowly before stepping forward, his voice unwavering, his tone absolute.

"It is an opportunity. One that rewards those who are bold enough to seize it."

He leaned forward slightly, allowing the room to absorb the gravity of his next words.

"Aielyn Veralas is no longer a matter of internal affairs. She is now a commodity—one that every corner of the galaxy may bid upon. I will see her returned to Valisca Prime… alive. And for those who make that happen, there will be power. There will be wealth. There will be standing among those who seek to carve their names into the annals of history. The question before you is not whether you can do this, but whether you are prepared to outpace those who will try first."

Silence settled over the room for a fraction of a second—then, movement. The murmur of voices, the shifting of holograms as calculations were made, as strategies were formed. Karis had given the galaxy its bait, and now, all that remained was to watch as the hunt began in earnest.

"Find her."

Karis' final words cut through the room like a blade.

"And bring her to me."

 

[Kasmion Duum]

General Atheon Karis —

I recently encountered the woman described in your bounty notice, and I believe I could find her again if I saw fit.

My price is a simple one: land. Your world is beautiful and mine is burnt. My people have very few worthwhile places to live. I would like to see my people develop a safe, secure, well-provisioned and well-connected enclave on Valisca Prime. Pledge me that and I will give you your quarry.

Kasmion Duum

 

[Atheon Karis]

General Atheon Karis read the transmission in silence, his expression unreadable in the flickering blue light of the holopad. The name—Kasmion Duum—meant little to him, but the offer was clear enough.

Land. That was the price.

A spark of amusement flickered behind his eyes. How poetic. A refugee of ash looking to plant roots in a land he had no claim to. Bold. Desperate. Useful.

He tapped a finger once against the armrest of his command chair, letting the silence stretch before speaking.

"Track him. I want to know everything about this Keshiri."

A pause.

"And prepare a draft. Something generous enough to tempt him...and narrow enough to control him."

Because in Karis' world, everything had its cost. Even charity.

Transmission: REPLY – AUTHORIZED CHANNEL
Sender: General Atheon Karis, Supreme Commander of Valisca Prime
Recipient: Kasmion Duum
Encryption Level: High
Timestamp: Verified

Kasmion Duum,

Your message was received, reviewed, and considered with interest. The woman in question is not merely a fugitive—she is a symbol. A specter of the old regime, dressed in exile and righteous defiance, hiding behind half-truths and borrowed honor. Her presence is a threat not because of what she has done, but because of what others might still believe she represents.

That you claim to have encountered her—and believe you can find her again—has earned my attention.

Your price, however, is not insignificant. Land is blood and breath to a world such as mine. Territory cannot be gifted on good intentions alone. It must be weighed, measured, and earned in trust and action.

And yet, I understand the hunger behind your offer. The ashes of Kesh are far from forgotten. The suffering of the Keshiri people echoes across scarred systems, a wound left festering by decades of silence and indifference. You speak not only for yourself but for those who still carry the memory of what was lost.

So here is my offer:

• I will grant your people a provisional enclave on Valisca Prime.
• A zone with access to infrastructure, agricultural development, and security
• Governed autonomously under a limited charter approved by my administration
• Monitored for the first standard year to ensure mutual respect and stability

In return, you will deliver to me what the galaxy has failed to for three long months:

Aielyn Veralas. Alive. Intact. And unaware of who turned her over until it is too late.

Do this, and not only will your people find sanctuary—but opportunity. With my favor, they will not simply survive. They will thrive.

You want a future, Kasmion Duum. I offer you one.

Choose carefully.

—General Atheon Karis
Supreme Commander of Valisca Prime
Bearer of the Iron Mantle
Executor of the Aetherian Order

 

[Aielyn Veralas]

The bounty hit the HoloNet like a thunderclap in a storm already teetering on collapse.

From the highest spires of Nar Shaddaa's cartel towers to the rust-worn gutters of the Vertical City's lower decks, the name Aielyn Veralas spilled into cantinas, data terminals, and underworld whisper networks like blood in stagnant water.

Attached to the message was a holoposter, accompanied by a holo-still—faintly distorted by compression artifacts, likely captured by surveillance or a long-range sensor. But it was enough. Pale hair streaked with blue, violet-blue eyes sharp with the weight of memory, and the unmistakable air of someone born to command.

The face was elegant, yes—but the kind that made people uneasy. There was power in it. A story behind it. The kind that attracted credits, or fire.

​

EDICT OF EXILE
Let it be known: Aielyn Veralas, once of the royal lineage, has abandoned her sacred charge. She is to be returned alive to Valisca Prime. Injured if necessary.
Those who would aid her mark themselves enemies of the throne.
Those who would harm her… will find their reward rescinded.
Reward: Significant.
Discretion: Advised.
Status: Exiled.
Retrieval: Mandated.

No one knew how long she'd been on Nar Shaddaa—days, maybe. But that was already too long.

Now, in the neon-cloaked underbelly of the Red Sector, the hunt had begun.

Whispers placed her somewhere between the shuttered spice dens and the old vertical tram yards. Too quiet. Too convenient. A perfect place for fate to turn the page.

But Aielyn Veralas had already slipped through worse hands than theirs.
And she wasn't planning to be caught quietly.

---

OOC: BOUNTY THREAD GUIDELINES
Please read before joining or posting.

• Read the Edict of Exile – This bounty is personal, political, and deeply rooted in narrative. Familiarity with the tone and stakes will improve your RP.
• Visual Identification Provided – A holostill of Aielyn Veralas has been circulated. Characters may recognize her on sight.
• No Character Death – Aielyn cannot be killed. However, serious injuries (with writer consent) are allowed. Please collaborate on outcomes in DMs where appropriate.
• Setting – The thread begins in the Red Sector of Nar Shaddaa, a mix of abandoned infrastructure and underworld chaos. Vertical, dense, and dangerous. Feel free to flavor the environment to suit your character's entry.
• Tone – This is narrative-heavy, character-focused RP. We welcome bounty hunters, opportunists, allies, double-crossers, and wildcards. Be respectful of story arcs.
• Dungeon Master Posts – DM interjections may be used to shift the environment, introduce threats, or move story beats forward.
• One-on-One and Group Interactions – No formal posting order, but respect pacing and others' turns. If unsure how to join, ask OOCly or DM.

---

"She's worth a fortune. But only if you bring her in breathing."
— Unknown Fixer, The Vertical Den

Let the hunt begin.

Tag: N/A | Location: Nar Shaddaa, Red Sector | Objective: Survive.
​

The rain had stopped, but Nar Shaddaa never dried.

Steam hissed from the grated walkways beneath her boots, mixing with the sharp tang of ozone and refuse. Somewhere above, neon signs flickered through the mist like dying stars—half-lit promises to no one. Below, the hum of the Vertical City never slept.

Aielyn moved like smoke through the Red Sector's edge, hood drawn low, cloak damp against her back. The datapad in her hand buzzed once more, confirming what she already knew.

They had published her.

Not just words this time. A picture. A name. A price. The Edict of Exile, carved in diplomacy and sharpened by betrayal.

She hadn't slept since it dropped.

Not out of fear. No—that had long passed. But the calculation… the angles. Every bounty hunter, syndicate runner, and desperate soul within a hundred systems would be watching the feeds. Some would want the reward. Others might just want a name to burn.

And some… might be looking for something worse.

Aielyn paused at the lip of an old tram junction, the lights below stretching into the abyss. Her reflection stared back in the mirrored surface of the data screen: tired eyes, streaked hair, a ghost in exile. A Queen without a court.

Her thumb hovered over the power button—then tapped it.

The screen died.

Her breath steadied.

~Let them come.~

She had not crawled through the ruins of her home, had not survived Karis's treason or watched her people silenced, just to crumble beneath Nar Shaddaa's rot. If they wanted to claim her, they would have to earn it.

And if one of them came close enough… maybe she'd get some answers of her own.

The tram roared to life in the distance. Aielyn turned from the ledge and disappeared into the vertical maze of rust and neon, cloak sweeping behind her like a shadow untethered.