Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Populate [GA] Picking Up the Pieces | GA Populate of Onderon



Drystan Creed Drystan Creed

He chuckled under his breath, eyes glinting. "Yeah… something like that," he said with a lopsided grin. "Heard some funny chatter on the radio—figured I'd check out the commotion and, y'know, help myself to whatever the dearly departed left behind. Dead don't need it. Might as well go to someone who does."

 


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Tag: Diogo Talon
"…Oh."

The sound left her mouth with a sheepish tone, and for the first time since they'd barreled into the room, she looked slightly unsure of herself. Her eyes darted back to the twisted doorway she'd just sealed shut like a dramatic, Force-wielding badass… and then slowly back to Diogo.


"I might've… panicked a little." She gestured vaguely to the door, wincing. "Didn't exactly think about the 'how do we leave' part while I was doing that." She turned away from him, scanning the room quickly. No other doors. No conveniently placed maintenance corridors. Just stone, metal, debris... and-

Her eyes flicked upward.

"…Vent," she muttered and pointed. A narrow ventilation shaft was tucked high on one side of the chamber, just wide enough for someone to squeeze through. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, evaluating the distance. "It's not exactly ideal, but it might be our only way out. Unless you wanna take your chances with that door I just crumpled like a candy wrapper."

She smirked, but there was still a faint flush to her cheeks.

"…You, uh, good at crawling through tight spaces?"

 

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Aadihr did not call back.

Cora's pulse fluttered, her heart sinking deep into her stomach. After a devastating loss, the thought of crawling out of the elevator shaft without Knight Lidos was almost a death blow.

Cinnamon and Sugar did not share her creeping sense of woe. In fact, they'd perked up, the racyon bounding down the dilapidated corridor as the sentient goop bobbed along cheerfully. By the time Cora caught up, her heart leapt back into her throat at the sight of Aadihr partially buried beneath the debris. He rasped something she couldn't quite make out as the goop nuzzled into him.

"Oh, thank Ashla," she gasped, falling to her knees beside Cinnamon. "Aadihr, try not to move. We- we're going to get you out."

The rubble was removed in short order, enough so that the injured knight could be extracted. Cora fumbled for her comm. It took a few tries to connect to the Alliance channel.

"Knight Von Ascania requesting medevac for Knight Lidos. We're at the end of an elevator shaft. Two unconscious troopers out front." The ping would bring rescuers to their general area, at least.

Cora slumped herself against the awkward angle of a duracrete slab. The wound in her shoulder had reopened, a dark red stain spreading from beneath the fabric of her tunic. Climbing down had been a challenge, she couldn't imagine trying to go back up with someone in tow.

"I can't believe it," she said, almost dazed. "You're alive." Her weary gaze passed over Sugar, then Cinnamon.

"I can't believe that you found him." A thin, sad smile curved her lips. "Azzie…she would be proud, I bet."

Cinnamon Cinnamon | Aadihr Lidos Aadihr Lidos
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BYOO

"Well, this area's anything but funny," Drystan said, his tone a bit too curt. His eyes flicked back toward the young man's recently borrowed starship, gaze lingering just long enough to make the point.

"What kind of stuff are you scavenging for? I wouldn't mind helping you get back to an Alliance station—get you some supplies, maybe a proper maintenance check on that ship of yours."


A pause.

"Beats scrounging for scraps. And the odds of needing to 'borrow' something that belongs to someone else go way down." He tilted his head slightly. "What do you say, kid?"

Sevrin Sevrin
 


Drystan Creed Drystan Creed
Sevrin stood balanced atop the scorched wing of the starfighter, arms loosely at his sides, boots planted like he belonged there. From above, he looked down at Drystan with a lopsided expression that didn't quite settle into a smile.


"How do you know I won't be clapped in irons the second I set foot near an Alliance beacon?" he called out, tone skeptical, edged with that dry humor only survivors wore like armor. "Seems to me, offers like that usually come wrapped in stun cuffs."


He gave a small shrug, gaze shifting briefly toward Drystan's stance.


"You always this friendly with strangers? Or just hoping I'm the useful kind?"

 
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Damian du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective Two: Displaced & Desperate
Outfit

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Damian winced, both for the laugh and the Chancellor’s words had brought up a similar memory with his own etiquette instructor. It wasn’t as terrible of a memory as he’d imagined them to be; Damian simply wondered if there were better ways to learn such noble decorum, but all the same such training provided useful instincts. Never will anyone consider my first impression uncouth.

“A game we all learn to play, but yes our fathers might have considered themselves friends if the galaxy had ordained them a chance.” A strange wistfulness clouded his mind of uncertain futures and near impossible alternative universes.


"How much time do you have?"

“I’d purchase more than enough time for you, Alicio.” Damian nodded his head once with determination.

The phrase ‘Time is credits’ was never more true than to the young du Couteau heir and he was in the best position to leverage credits to extend time if needed.


"If I may show a wrinkle... I'm tired. I have more power than I could've dreamed when I first began politics, and... there are moments I feel more like the Alliance's burning effigy than it's leader."

Though Damian considered that perhaps his Chancellor required different assurances when he explained his current sentiment. A shining beacon could also be seen as a burning pyre for martyrs. The weight of the Alliance was always a strange notation, Damian could only but guess the pressure of which Alicio felt and continued to endure. What could he possibly say to that declaration of honesty?

“To chase the wind on a windy day.” Damian spoke softly, his smile grew at how everything felt poetic. Hardly comforting, but at least my father's words are getting some use. “-And to keep chasing ever more.” Maybe it was all just a game to the Force, but Damian was determined to chase the wind all the same.

“Perhaps, if you may allow my boldness, you should find a Vice-Chancellor to hold a fire extinguisher at every Senate proceedings.” Damian chuckled as he looked down at his data-slate. Honestly nominating certain Senators such as Dod might be a way to smooth out particularly difficult creases. The young du Couteau already began to think of press releases of how to shape such an image.

“Family can always be counted on, I doubt anyone would oppose the selection of the current Senator of Alderaan. . . Senator Hydia could also be the steady hand to secure the Core.” Damian suggested, acting like a Tailor when a client felt amiss about their outfit. "-And there are other options, ones that could keep those with torches at bay perhaps."

"But such talks of the Senate can be waved away for a later date, we should probably focus on today's business. Unless you have a question for me."
Damian added an avenue for a different subject. His own data-slate held many un-read reports and Damian dreaded what they could possibly contain. Numbers told their own story and he wondered what tale his reports would spin for him later in the day.

 






BYOO

Drystan raised an eyebrow at Sevrin's reluctance, and the reasoning behind it. He tried to make sense of it—and concluded it was likely a defense mechanism, something developed during his time as a slave. Where acts of kindness weren't freely given, and there was always a catch.

He raised his hands in a disarming gesture, hoping to ease the boy's doubt.

"There's nothing more to it than you being in an unsafe place—and me wanting to get you somewhere safer. I promise you, there are no strings attached. I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart."

A pause. His tone was sincere, though he still kept that calm, composed cadence.

"It's a pretty good deal for you. You get proper maintenance on that ship, and you're in a place where you don't have to keep watching your back. Might even find some honest work for credits. I'm sure it's better compensation than what you got where you came from."

Sevrin Sevrin
 

Purchasing time. He'd never heard that before.

Corporatists, Alicio thought with a wilted, teasing smile.


“Perhaps, if you may allow my boldness, you should find a Vice-Chancellor to hold a fire extinguisher at every Senate proceedings.”

Alicio finally let his attention drift from Senator du Couteau, finding another urgent care cot to steal his focus. But all the while, Alicio seemed to have his mind elsewhere. "Is that a bid for the Vice Chancellory I hear, Senator?" Alicio didn't smile this time, but there was some amount of humor in his voice. He didn't want to put too much pressure on the high-strung Tetan, but he could lean on him a little.

"Believe it or not, I've given a great deal of thought to my second, recently." Alicio let his hand rest over the bed in front of him, that same rushing energy pulling at the air around them. "I don't want to pick someone simply for... political convenience. I want someone who will use my influence for good. I want a builder."

Alicio allowed Damian to shift the conversation, his mouth shifting as he divided his concentration between his fellow politician and the patient beneath his palm.

"What's your next project?" And how can I help?

- Damian du Couteau Damian du Couteau -
 
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Drystan Creed Drystan Creed


Sevrin didn't buy it. His gaze stayed fixed on Drystan like he was scanning for the fine print that hadn't been said aloud.

"Kindness of your heart?" he echoed, the words brittle on his tongue. "That doesn't really exist where I'm from."

He shifted his weight, subtle but defensive—like prey learning the shape of a new predator.

"People don't just give without wanting something back. Not unless they're trying to look good. Or cover something up."
A beat. "So what is it? You want a favor down the line? Loyalty? Gratitude? Or just someone to say you're not like the others? Fix my ship I stole... they wouldn't wish to seize it and pick it's data logs clean for every scrap of information huh?"

His voice wasn't angry. Just tired. Tired of offers that sounded like freedom but came wrapped in chains.
 
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Damian du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective Two: Displaced & Desperate
Outfit

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“I can’t imagine myself staining your administration with such an appointment, after all my Chancel-chances for such fevered dreams are low and best left to more imaginative minds.” Damian explained as he nearly had committed a cardinal sin.

Being told to use a first name once is acceptable, a second time? Dishonour to my family name and a lethal blow to my pride.

“Maybe your chosen second could use the growing stacks of data-slates in my office for building material. . . or target practice sheets.” Damian joked as he nearly shivered at the thought of Vice-Chancellorship.

I like what little sleep I have left as it is. . . .as frightening little as it had become.

“But for my next project; the situation with medical supplies not reaching the needed zones is being addressed. My staff is currently out in the field collecting data for me so I can establish gradient functions to best determine supplies. Calculating the gross usage peak of bacta to better model future aid assistance-” Damian explained as he read his data-slate and scrolled through a few recent reports that had been sent to him.

“. . .Of course what can break these mathematical models is when margins of loss exceed calculated parameters. . . such breakage can be excessive if not reported.”
Damian droned on as he gestured with his free hand before he cleared his throat and looked over at Alicio.

He had begun to assist another patient while Damian had allowed himself to speak too freely. The only comfort he found was that he had not used any honorifics, though such a low bar threatened to trip him into the mud below.

“Apologies, my excitement to talk about my thought process can get the better of me,” Damian commented sheepishly. “-I know it can seem pedantic when we can just purchase what most would call an obscene amount of medical supplies without concern of calculated models. . . I just like to prepare and catch discrepancies in whatever data I collect.”

“It also helps me visualize the scope of planetary relief.”
Damian spoke as he coped with the idea that this was what would be needed if he ever returned Teta.

“I wish to avoid far too many committee obligations, so I have a favor to ask of you.” Damian tentatively broached Alicio for his ask.
“The Ministry of Health and Science has many records I could use to supplement the work here, but I require certain privileges. . . I-I wanted to wait until my return to Fondor, so please do not put my request ahead of anything else.”
 






BYOO

Drystan couldn't blame himself for Sevrin's reaction—nor could he blame the younger man. He hated to admit it, but being a Shadow had left his genuine self with little in the way of social skills. What else could he say aside from the truth?

"You're right, there is something you can do for me." He figured he'd have to speak Sevrin's language.

"This is dangerous territory, and I want you off it and somewhere safe. That's the reason I'm offering you a place to go."

A shrug.

"I don't have anything to gain from it aside from knowing I was able to get someone out of a place like this."

Sevrin Sevrin
 
Drystan Creed Drystan Creed
Sevrin's jaw tensed, but his fists loosened. Just a fraction. The burn in his eyes dulled, not because he trusted the offer, but because he recognized the futility of fighting it.

He looked past Drystan, out toward the jagged skyline, the way shadows hung off the broken towers like vultures waiting to swoop.

"...You ain't the first to say that," he muttered, voice low. "That they wanted nothin' but to help. Usually right before the cage shut."

His mouth twitched and settled in to something akin between a sneer and a bitter smile.

"But you're not wrong. I try to run from here, I won't make it far. And even if I did... I've learned how creative people can get, even without the Force, when they really want someone to regret runnin'."

There was a long pause. Not quite surrender, but the breath before it.

"...So fine. I'll come. Not 'cause I believe in your Temple or your cause, but because I wanna see what kinda fools build sanctuaries this close to hell and call it safe."

He stepped forward, slow and wary, every motion still coiled like a spring. "You get one chance to prove this ain't just another pit with a pretty name."

 

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