Little Birds

[Placeholder 04]

Naught but the slow crackle of embers could be heard within the sanctum.

A dying flame barely stirred within the fireplace at the desk's right. Its heat was needed here in the Reach. Even on Naboo, the harsh northern peaks grew cold enough to chill the bone. It was here that Graxin had made his home alongside his children and various allies. The Obsidian Hold was a splash of darkness against the white summit it sat upon. The structure could be seen from miles away. It had never been designed with violence in mind.

And yet this was where it would all begin, in a manner of speaking.

The Lord of the Reach leaned back in his chair and chewed down on the cigar hanging from his lips. Tiny puffs of smoke curled up about him and filled the room with the scent of old oak. Trophies from various worlds lined the walls along with various works of art from Naboo's own creative minds.

It was a fitting study.

The door had been left unlocked. An old ally had reached out in the night. A man whom Graxin had never met in person, but knew by reputation. A man that had helped his mother keep over a hundred systems in line.

Another, too, had been called. One he knew less about, but could be bought with coin or the like. A man could not topple a regime with soldiers alone. There were other cogs in the machine that opened the gates for these armies. Cogs that Graxin very much needed for the coming days.

He huffed another cloud of smoke as he waited.

 

[H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E]

Hardline had received a message from a man he had been told much about, one who seemed to have great aspirations, though none of them seemed to be meant to be. This man went by many ailiases, Cyril Grayson, then Darth Mephirium, and now he goes by his original name Graxin Rade. This man has great talent, and great ambitions, but it never seemed to work out in the end. Even though it always failed in the end, he had great ambitions, and if whatever he has been planning succeeds, this could be the first step in getting into galactic affairs on a more direct level.

Up until this point LONGBOW stood idly by, watching as galactic events happen, not doing much, it was very important into perfecting the predictive algorithms that allow Hardline and his agents to stay on schedule and to prepare for many eventualities, but even then they are not perfect, failure is still a possibility. Now LONGBOW and Hardline were ready, ready to finally open up shop, it took over a century of work, but they were finally ready.

Hardline had leaked ways to contact LONGBOW onto the streets, into the shady underworld, and it seemed to have attracted the attention of someone, so he set off on this meeting. Hardline's shuttle came down upon the mountain keep after securing landing clearance. The shuttle set down, and Hardline made his way to go and find the man who had contacted him, trying not to awake any of the other inhabitants. He found the man in the study, sitting by a dying fire, with a cigar in mouth.

'I presume you are Graxin Rade, if that is what you are going by these days." The droid said, standing in the doorway.
[member="Graxin Rade"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Strask sighed and rubbed his beard, studying Graxin through a pair of electrobinoculars. The work he had been doing with Calico had fizzled, the Mandolorians falling apart. He guessed it wouldn't be long until they were scattered across the stars as mercinaries once again. How history repeats itself. Cal had asked him to help a friend, the son of Feena Mason. He remembered Feena. the Archon was one of the people he had worked with in running the CIS. Not officially, of course, and their roles rarely overlapped, but he did know her. She had been a good woman, and she had had high hopes for her son. When he had done his research through his contacts, though.....

There were rumors connecting Graxin to figures like Darth Mephirium. Some speculated that they were one and the same. But Strask knew there was a connection there. While Strask didn't have a hate of Sith in general, he remembered an overthrow and the death of the Dark Lord. But the One Sith still held sway in the core. Whether Graxin and Mephirium were the exact same person, he wasn't sure. But he didn't want to be another One Sith Lacky. That job would get him killed quicker than a long-term debt with a hutt. Karking Force-users.

Making his way down the hillside to the quiet speeder bike he had hidden, he made hi way t meet this man of many titles, so it seemed. With any luck, it would be fruitful.


Stepping in behind the droid, Strask srudied him. Not a model he recognized, which meant either new or unique. He guessed the latter, as it was probably in charge of something Graxin needed. Standing silently near the door, he would wait to be acknowledged by either party before speaking.

[member="Graxin Rade"] [member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Graxin rumbled with quiet laughter. He appraised the droid with a careful eye, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tried to get a peg on the automaton. He'd never been one to trust droids the considered themselves sentient; benevolent or not. It would seem that fate had decided to deliver on to him in some odd attempt at humor. Oddly enough, the head of House Rade found himself amused.

"It is, actually," he snickered, "Most folks don't pick up on the connections. I assure you, I've no intentions of chopping you to little bits." He doused the cigar in a nearby ash tray and pushed up from his seat.

The Sith title had been a means to an end. His tenure within the One Sith's hierarchy had been a lie - one told so well that its upper echelons had believed it. The Dark Lord was dead because of that lie. If people decided to ignore the results and see the means, then so be it. There were more important things to worry about than sensibilities.

"And what do you call yourself?" He lofted a brow and circled about the droid, only coming to a stop when he caught sight of another. The Bothan looked remarkably alike to how Graxin's mother had described him, but then Bothans didn't have much variation, did they?

"No need to be a stranger," he gave Strask a half-bow, "I welcome you to my home. The both of you."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"], [member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]

 

[H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E]

"Hardline, and i appreciate it." Hardline said.

Hardline did not know this bothan, he would have to dig into his history later, but for know there were more pressing matters than who this bothan was, such as figuring out why he was called here, as Hardline knew for sure that Graxin had not called him here to discuss fine dining over tea, Hardline was called here for a reason, and knowing this man, it was probably something big.

However Hardline would let the bothan introduce himself first, but not before Hardline stepped into the study.

[member="Graxin Rade"]
[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Strask smiled a small smile at Graxin spoke, only to wipe it away a moment later. This was business. No getting sentimental on the job. Stepping forward, he nodded to the droid before turning to Graxin. "In my line of work, being a stranger is often an advantage." He didn't know this man except for what he knew of his mother. He wondered how alike they were. Feena had been a caring soul, and a healer. This man was tied to the figure who killed the Dark Lord of the One Sith. They seemed to be unlike each other in many ways. He had kept himself distant from the former Archon. He had felt she may not have approved of some of the means he deemed necessary to defend the Confederacy. In his age, He wasn't sure he approved of his old methods. Ah, well. The past is set in stone.

"Calico sent me over. Figured you'd have more use for a man like me than he would now days." He studied the man's reaction, seeing if he recognized the old dread guard. After all, he still wasn't sure about this man. He would have to look into Darth Mephilium. He made a mental note to have Nat look into that. For now, he watched Graxin.

[member="Graxin Rade"] [member="H.A.R.D.L.I.N.E"]