Luxurious Aggression (OS Dominion of Vortex)

[Andais Plaga]

Objective: A Good Time
Location: Pool Side
Allies: Beards, spice and everything nice
Enemies: Sobriety
Post: 4/20

[member="Roger Kranos"]

He certainly had a lot of zip in his step, and swing to his hips as he moved. Andi couldn't seem to take her eyes off him, in a fascinated sort of way, as if he was the pied piper of legend, leading the dance off into the distant horizon, with the music swirling around the crowds of raving throngs, the swaying and bobbing as they were all joined together as a nation of those enlightened to the consciousness of all peoples everywhere for all time.

It was love, and it was beautiful.

And she suddenly realized that she had let her mind wander while he retrieved another goodie bag from the waiter. She blinked dreamily at the delicious embrace of the spice and namana in her system, not looking at him per say but kinda past him at the colors of the flowers behind him that were soo blessedly pink that the cosmic mother must have put them there just for her.

"Fire is fun to play with..." Coherent thoughts and Andais were no longer acquainted.

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Objective: Mingle
Location: Pool
Allies: [member="Isamu Baelor"]
Enemies: People that don't like hats
Posts: 4/20

After two or three incredibly fruity and frozen alcoholic drinks and a wander through CoCo Town Art Weekly on her datapad, Mina Dahma surveyed the pool scene through her sunglasses. Why was everyone so tattooed and looking like they were off to a Zeltros music festival? Her vacation planner had assured her that this was a five-star resort but it appeared that a couple of stars were indeed… absent in this environment.

She scanned the area and her gaze landed on Isamu Baelor. He appeared delightfully mundane at first until she noticed his… daughter? Yes that must be his daughter... took his keycard and exited the pool area.

Mina, you are not on business today, she told herself in warning. You are supposed to be relaxing. But still, she couldn't resist the pull of self-promotion and rose from her sunbed to deposit herself by Baelor. By the looks of his straw hat and floral shirt, she didn't take him for an art fanm but in the Countess's experience wardrobe was not a barometer for the amount of credits someone had.
"Hello, there," she said, seating herself on a sunbed beside him. "Are you enjoying your vacation?" she asked.

Mina finally removed her rather large hat, and once she did, Isamu Baelor would see a chestnut-haired woman of Hapan-descent pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head and her delicate pale hand outstretched in greeting.

 

[Roger Kranos]

Objective: Getting his drank on
Location: Pool Side
Allies: Fire
Enemies: Sobriety
Post: 5/20

"Yes!" He gesticulated with a snap of his finger. "It is fun, very good!" It was more than fun, he thought, it was the quintessential fibers that tied the universe together. But behind the veil of carsanum and cactus poppers, he realized that this vixen in her skull pleated pool side gear was tripping hard and wanted some. Shuffling through is bag, he pulled out the whiskey bottle and smiled as he moved from his seat to Andi's, down by her legs. He wasn't one for personal space, just gets in the way.

"You see, I'm a man of very simple tastes..." He lifted the whiskey bottle and shook it. "Whiskey...fun..."He rattled the bottle with the seeds in them and then set them down. "And beautiful women of course."

Smooth Kranos, real smooth. "Now, these are poppers. I've got glitterstim and I've got carsanum poppers. Whatcha want?" He stopped mid sentence and lifted his hands. "And I won't take no for an answer. If you're gonna enjoy the stars, we gotta lift off first." Implying that whatever she was taking wasn't on the level of what he was bringing. Cause lets be honest, it's Kranos. The man bled and sweat drugs, finger on the pulse of tip top highs. And right now, he was enjoying the view as he rattled the bottle, ready to deliver on request.

"This one's on me..."

[member="Andais Plaga"]​

 

[Vrag]

[1/20]
Objective: 2, except not
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqODbP1T3nk​

Subtle.

A word she knew and understood, but never particularly cared for the sentiment it carried. She was the person to call when doors needed knocking down, or when worlds needed conquering with fire and sword, or when people needed a good killing. Parties were all well and fine, but you'd be hard pressed to find her lounging about when there was so much more to do, so many other planets and nations to bring to heel.

It was in defiance of this very rule that the Hand of the Dark Lord touched down upon the ground of Vortex that day, stepping out of the dropship with a small contingent of veteran soldiers. They spread out and disappeared into the crowd within seconds, hailing her through her oggzil once they were in position.

The Sith rolled her shoulders as her pace quickened, carrying her through the parting host of partygoers as if she were that one guy from that one holy book that didn't exist in this universe. With the reference lost on the populace as well as the prodigal prophet, sucha s she was, Vrag strode up the wide set of marble stairs leading to the foyer of the six-star hotel she was about to introduce to the hospitality of the Dark Lord.

Join or die, motherkarker.

While the Voices tended to word it somewhat more nicely, or at least more diplomatically, the Hand had no such inhibitions — nor stipulations to her position, for that matter — and was free to be as insulting as she wished to be at any given moment.

Her lips curled back into a grin as she practically kicked open the door — job description and all — successfully turning to herself the attention of a whole contingent of security guards. And who could blame them, really? When you had two meters of armor and horns asking for accommodations at the reception, you were probably doubting your career choices with a fair share of regret.

Still, no amount of stabbing or steely knives would fell that beast. Not today.

"Something I can help you with?" she addressed the approaching group of guards with a disconcerting calm to her tone, resting her palm on the pommel of her lightsaber with motions that mocked that mocked the very nature of subtlety. The woman cocked her head to the side as they fidgeted, as if they couldn't decide which unfortunate soul among them would be the one to answer her question.

It would be a mighty fine tiebreaker if someone were to appear and, say, blow a guard's brains out. Just to get the action going, you understand.

 

[Andais Plaga]

Objective: A Good Time
Location: Pool Side
Allies: Beards, spice and everything nice
Enemies: Sobriety
Post: 5/20

She leaned forward, giggling like a girl, strung out of her mind as he shook the bottle and the little seeds in it sloshed around. She was mesmerized by the way they bounced and jived in the amber liquid. She whispered to him, enunciating every single syllable as she conveyed her treat of choice to the enchanting candy man.

"Glit..ter...stim..." There was a dragging out of sounds as they left her lips, her green eyes dilated and dazzling already. She reminded him of someone she couldn't quite place, a foggy fantasy that might have been a hallucination that grabbed her on a trip ages ago and never let go. Was he real? Was any of this real?

Those questions were way too harsh for the here and now, this was a place for letting go of all those weights holding us down. She could feel the wane of the stim she had before she left her room and he was offering a taste of the universe. Right now, he was the god of her world and it was time for holy communion.

[member="Roger Kranos"]

 

[Disciple]

[1/20]​

Objective: 2​

Allies: Vrag​

​

The hurried steps of booted feet carried through the hotel corridors, echoing from the corners of the vaulted ceilings. Like a war drum, they quickened, their master urging them forward with haste. A vagrant man was stalking these halls today, blue skin with red eyes, a mop of greasy black hair and scars that told of a man used to a rougher life. His clothing was old, weathered, faded - just like the light in his eyes.

There was a mission going on, you see. One he was not familiar with, but one he was going to become familiar with.

Faster.

The hurried steps turned to a jog.

Fly, you fool.

He could not, and so he ran.

It's starting without you.

Lips curled subtly, in a manner that for a Chiss was a scowl or a snarl, but for anyone else was an almost unnoticeable tick of facial muscles. She's starting without you. Who was she? He was not sure. But he came around the corner to a group of guards staring down something malevolent on the other side. Their heads were focused, and no one was watching their six.

Until they heard the running. The heavy impacts of a hundred and eighty pounds, give or take, striking the ground with force, propelling forward a lean muscled missile towards their rearguard. She hungers, can you not feel it? Blue impacted armor, his body flying up to head height as he adjusted himself to be parallel to the floor - like a diver streaking out above the water before starting his plummet to the area below.

Elbow locked around neck as he pulled the guard with him, twisting with an audible snap that saw the man's legs twitch and then stop as his body went still. The blaster was in his hand a moment later, sowing confusion into the guard ranks. I hope she takes mercy on your soul, child.

 

[Vrag]

[2/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

He came like a bullet from behind, little more than a blue arrow smashing into their neat little formation — her mind briefly conjured up countless memories of stretched-out stars during a hyperspace jump — and then all hell broke lose, and the Sith found she had better things to do.

Relieved of the burden of having to answer a clearly rhetorical question, the guards were now busy trying to peel a man-shaped weapon off their friend, foolishly turning their backs on the devil in the room.

And she was to a metaphor what a neon sign was to subtlety, for kark's sake. You'd think that at least one of them would have the presence of mind to pay attention to the horned beast, but they didn't, and so the price would be paid in full, with blood.

Deft fingers wrapped around the hilt, and a thumb slid over the switch as a red beam hissed to life, only to sink into the flesh of the nearest guard with uncanny accuracy. She never stopped to observe the aftermath of her thrust, moving across the marble floor with fleet feet with fluid steps in comical contrast to her stature and bulk.

Silly, silly people, assuming that she should fight like a brute just because she looked the part.

Her blade danced through the air as the woman treated it for the light it was — and not the club they thought she'd believe it to be — slicing though the cheap armor afforded to its staff by the hotel chain. In their defense, they probably never expected that their guards would have to deal with a Sith Lord, which, in the long run, made things a bit easier on the men.

They'd die quickly.

 

[Disciple]

[2/20]​

Objective: C​

Allies: [member="Vrag"]​

​

She is Death.

"Shut up." A blaster to the gut, a blade through the back. Blood was everywhere. Lightsabers made such distinctive noises that one would never forget the hum-clash of plasma on body. Life brought down to one final sound, a last gasp of life to herald them into the Force. "Shut up." He kicked as someone grabbed at his leg, trying to get him out of the way so they could reform the line, address the Sith.

Boot met helmet, muttered cursing ensued.

Maybe she'll just kill you and be done with it.

His lips curled ever so vaguely, pulling himself over to the side of the scuffle before it got any worse. If she were trying to sense him, she'd no doubt realize the small nugget of black within him was nascent Force Potential. You're not worth saving. "I wish I could be rid of you." He says, blowing a face open with a wing shot from his stolen weapon.

 

[Roger Kranos]

Objective: Lighting it up
Location: Pool Side
Allies: Fire
Enemies: Sobriety
Post: 6/20

"Atta girl..." He smiled as she popped one back. He was always preferential towards carsanum, though he did know a particular Atrisian Sith Lord who fancied a mandalorian orange tree from time to time. Might be @Mastu Xiangu. Short thing, all teeth. But what can ya do? A LOT. And that's what Kranos did, a lot of drugs. And by drugs, he meant the skittles he was tossing back. Setting the bottle in the waist strap of his loin cloth, he smiled at the lounging women, dragging a nail down her calf before standing up and throwing the delivered satchel over his shoulder. "Be right back..."

He approached the pool, a waiter stopped and addressed him. "Kark off you...you...flaky pastry!" Kranos pushed him hard, flinging him into the pool. The bearded wonder ran towards the pool, the back of his loin cloth dancing to a revealing rhythm as he leaned forward and splashed water in the recovering man-child's face. "I'd start swimming if I were you..." What a charmer, all smiles and mane. And as he stood up, he reached into the bag and pulled out the fuel. Lifting his hands, he addressed the gathering crowd.

"And for my next trick, I will make fire!" He began emptying the bottle of fuel into the pool as it began to float and disperse. Grinning from cheek to cheek, a turbine formed in the middle of the pool, whirling and splashing as it pushed all the swimmers out and dispersed the fuel evenly. With a vibrant rainbow jutting out from beneath his feet, he hopped onto the sparkling ribbon and took it for a ride, hair blasting in the wind as he watched the action from above. And with a shake of his head, he was grounded again, standing back as people watched him or ran in fear. "Wow!" He laughed as he pulled out the grease gun, shot a bit of lubricant into the pool, and lit the tip of the gun with a lighter, strategically hidden somewhere on his loin cloth. He shook his head. They ran. That's fine. Plebs.

"These drugs are really good." Some times, even a veteran can be surprised by the height. Shrugging mentally as no one seemed to appreciate the revelation, he hit the trigger as the ignited grease flung into the pool and a spark caught. Turning back towards the pink haired minx friend, he waved her over. "Come on...come see the show!"

What a man.

And there was that heat he was looking for. Delicious sultry heat.

[member="Andais Plaga"] | [member="Wilhelmine Dahma"]​

 

[Vrag]

[3/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

With a wet, sad sound the gray matter that once contained the consciousness of a living being splattered all across the dark marble. In the wake of the shot, an odd sort of quiet fell over the foyer, as if the two killers were paying some sort of respect to the twitching bodies on the floor.

False.

Her cold eyes found him crouching over the remains of a guard, the muzzle of his blaster smattered with body fluids and strips of flesh. It wasn't a pretty sight, for sure, but Vrag had seen far worse in her time spent in the dubiously pleasant company of various gangs, each of whom tried to one-up the other in their methods of execution. The Sith, truth be told, had little on the common man when it came to carnage and creativity. The Galaxy liked to use them as scapegoats simply because it was so easy, what with the millennia of demonizing propaganda working in their favor, but the truth of the matter was that every single creature born into this universe was capable of committing those same atrocities.

Not that Vrag needed an excuse.

"Who are you?" she directed the question at the kneeling chiss without turning off her lightsaber. If he decided to try and tackle her next, the ragged man would be in for a rather nasty surprise when an amphistaff ate his face, but if he continued to help her in her quest to dismantle what little security the hotel boasted, Vrag wasn't one to deny him the pleasure.

The more, the merrier, after all.

 

[Disciple]

[3/20]​

Objective: 2​

Allies: [member="Vrag"]​

​

Were you a sponge, perhaps I would have sustenance right now. "Where do you get off." Wherever you aim. "Harr-dee-harr." He blinked at the mangled face, unlatching the man's chestplate to lift up and over his. It was bloody, but otherwise unmarred, and would give him at least a little protection should someone blast him in the torso. Maybe. Providing she didn't slice him open in the next instant.

She approaches. "Yes, I can hear her." It's the blood lapping at her boots, I'm sure.

"Perhaps." The voice was quiet, a dull monotone, as if calling out a student's name repeatedly in class had sapped him of his will to live. Blaster limp in his hand, his red gaze shifted to her, soot-covered scars coming into view. You are many, yet one. "I am Astaire. Your clumsy tongue would be unable to pronounce my full name properly." Still monotone. Still unimpressed.

She could put you down with a thought.

"Perhaps she should."

It would be for the best. Sick dogs are put out of their misery.

"But is it misery if you enjoy it?"

Touché.

 

[Vrag]

[4/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

An eyebrow started its journey up her forehead as the first words left his mouth, and would've likely continued all the way to the back of her skull as he continued talking, were that humanly possible. At this point, she felt, there was a pattern starting to show; between her and the… creatures she seemed to meet while knee-deep in dead bodies, that was.

Gore, it seemed, attracted the most curious individuals, amusingly enough. The chiss' behavior reminded her of the broken beast she'd once encountered in the bowels of Coruscant. Even though a mere child, [member="Worm 20"] had been painted red with blood from neck to toe when she'd happened upon him in that dark cell.

The situation was different here, but only by a margin. Settings changed, sentiments… less so.

"I'll let the insult slide," she spoke with dangerously calm a tone over the hum of her lightsaber, eyeing the man still. There was purpose and reason in his actions, but his words were mangled, strange. What the kark was wrong with using normal sentences?

Third person, my ass.

"If you want to kill yourself, be my guest," she continued and gestured offhandedly to the blaster still in his grasp. "If you'd rather kill these guys, pick yourself up and come with me."

Even before the last syllable passed through the rebreather behind her skull mask, Vrag was already moving across the foyer and to the stairs, intent on clearing every floor until not a soul was left int he whole building that would dare stand in their way.

 

[Disciple]

[4/20]​

Objective: 2​

Allies: [member="Vrag"]​

​

She knows.

"I'm sure she does."

She's liable to kill you. "And we've covered that."

Have we really though.

"Yes, yes we have."

He pushed himself up to his feet, blaster still held at a low ready, not raising it at all. "I will continue the rampage." He intones solemnly, as though swearing some sort of blood oath in that moment. She was murder on two legs, pain incarnate. It would behoove him to maintain caution. She was already moving, and he was already on her tail, blaster held in steady hands that stood in opposition to his halting, truncated voice.

Killing lay upon the horizon.

 

[Vrag]

[5/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

She blinked again at his karked up figures of speech and then promptly gave up. She had better things to do.

Vonduun and muscle flexed as one as she skipped four steps at a time with little apparent effort, clearing a whole stairwell in only a few strides before she was met with another bump in the proverbial road. This time, it wasn't so much a bump as it was a barricade, and Vrag pulled back behind the wall just in time to avoid a volley of blaster bolts aimed at her.

A quick check up informed her that she did not, in fact, think to bring a blast bug or two. Or perhaps they'd flitted off to join others during the ride down from the Imperious. Oh, well. At any rate, they weren't there, so she'd be forced to resort to other means.

Her icy gaze flickered to the living weapon opposite her, and with a cock of her head, the Hand would suggest the chiss throw himself into the fray for her. What a kind thing to offer, and to a stranger no less. Wasn't the firrerreo just the nicest of people?

Besides, he was itching to spill blood; she could see it in the tight lines of his face, in the tense muscles straining against the cerulean hues of his skin that showed through the tattered sleeves of his shirt. He'd do fine.

He'd do fine indeed.

 

[Disciple]

[5/20]​

Objecitve: 2​

Allies: [member="Vrag"]​

​

They bounded up until they met the tight lines and barbed barrels of a barricade, intended to impede their progress towards whatever it was this woman was after. Blinking at her and the cock of her head, the Chiss gave a faint smile. It was nothing more than the ghost of a twitch of a half-visible muscle, but for a Chiss it was as close to a show of happiness as you'd get. Camo colored fabric lifting with the air that worked around his body as he flung himself forward, the Chiss turned himself into a blue battering ram.

A pair of bolts knocked over the two soldiers directly in front of him - a lowered shoulder like a linebacker cleared a path through their falling bodies. There wasn't a word, nor any indication that the soldiers could visually keep track of him.

It was just a living weapon, throwing itself into the enemy lines. She's using you.

"By Her Will."

You sound so... religious.

"Religion is just a way of qualifying your trust in a power outside yourself." Curiously articulate for a man covered in blood.

Astaire laughed, even as he tore the helmet off a soldier and then beat him to death with it.

 

[Darth Isolda]

G L Y T H E S E C T O R
Ten Tempest System
Vortex

Objective: Capture the Cathedral of WInds
1/20

Vortex was known for it’s violent weather, particularly sharp winds caused by an abnormal tilt in the planet’s axis. It was a planet of extremes, where during the winter months, vast polar ice caps formed almost instantaneously by the freezing gasses in the planet’s atmosphere. The sudden change in air pressure made huge currents, sending them sweeping across the entire planet.

Yet from such extremes, the Vors would thrive. As would the Cathedral of Winds that the reptilian species at the center of their society.

It was a testament to how life would find a way. How in the most grievous of circumstances, something completely and utterly beautiful could be found. Considered to be one of the Twenty Wonders of the Galaxy, the colossal building on Vortex created music by the vibrating wind that was both exquisite as it was beautiful. Annually, the Vors would play a concert in the cathedral, flying through it to open and close the windows and doors, using the Cathedral like an organ. Not a single recording of the melody was ever allowed, often even considered a myth. To partake in the event was a rarity few in the galaxy ever would experience.

An experience that would now only serve for the glory of the Goddess.

Standing before the the great 'Wonder', Darth Isolda would smirk with a knowing twist of her lips. The Cathedral was majestic as its song was hauntingly beautiful, the brisk winds sending a choir of the most haunting music into the air. This was the true pride and joy of the Vors. This was where they would take a stand, to protect the Cathedral of Winds.

Isolda would see to it that by the end of the day, the only submission would be to the Goddess of Vahl.

"Secure it." her stoic command would echo, prompting the One Sith and Vahla soldiers forward. Another temple for the One. Another expansion for the Ember of Vahl.

 

[Vrag]

[6/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

She'd expected it would look like all those Republic soldiers that had once attempted to push into the port of Prakith straight through the particle shield — a grizzly smattering of limbs and blood — but to her great suprise, the chiss cleared the way with quick thinking and some applied sports skills.

Who would've guessed?

Vrag wasted no time, following in his tracks in the shape of a black blur even as he slaughtered guards left and right. Two hundred pounds of muscle and armor met the few men who still remained upright, introducing them first-hand to the beauties of Vonduun Skerr Ygdris. Greedy legs clawed at flesh with ravenous zeal as its wearer separated appendge from body with a cold indifference that was infinitely more terrifying than all the rage she could ever muster.

Her lightsaber moved with the unique elegance of efficient economy, paired with meticulous footwork that carried her just far enough to avoid the desperate strikes of the woefully underprepared enemy. On one side, the unadulterated carnage of unchecked emotion, on the other, the keen edge of fully harnessed ire; together, there was nothing they left untouched, and as if through a natural order, the duo of killers adjusted to each other.

They were apex predators, the both of them, each with their own hunting grounds, and so instead of tearing out each other's throats, the pair simply slayed together.

"You praying to the Goddess?" the firrerreo finally voiced the question that had been prompted by his loud musings during the short-lived battle. She turned her masked visage to face him as she did, leveling his red eyes with the orange glow burning low in the empty sockets of the skull.

 

[Disciple]

[6/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Vrag"]

Now look what you've done.

"This is your fault."

The Chiss dropped the helmet in his hands, still straddling the torso of the Sullustan whose face was now concave. No, it's not. You're the one answering me allowed, whelp.

"As opposed to what, answering you silently?" He asks, finally looking up to the woman. "The who, Mistress?" He asks in a half-confused tone.

 

[Darth Timoris]

[Post=2/20]​

Pressing her back to the pocked spire, she scanned her immediate surroundings, then lifted her gaze to the summit of the slope, lied against the cloudless sky. Descending raggedly from the face of a mountain ten kilometres high, the river spilled onto a deeply fissured tableland, and over the eons had fashioned from the valley wall a veritable forest of mesas and towering pinnacles, cleaved by crevasses and dotted with spiny cacti whose translucent juice was said to cause hallucinations in some species.

A blaster bolt whizzed past the blonde tresses of her head, and he shot to her feet. A quick follow-up glance revealed that her pursuers were attempting to surround her, covering for one another as they raced between protective outcroppings, trusting in the masking properties of their high-tech outfits. Melori raised her own blaster and drew a bead on the nearest Rodian, forefinger trembling on the trigger, as if urging him to shoot. And she would have, if not for the tell-tale sign of her own position exposed by that single shot. Frustrated, she bared her teeth to the cold dry wind sweeping down from the mountain and muttered another curse. Only when she was compelled to remain in the profane world did her feet slip out from under her and her lungs strain to deliver sufficient oxygen to her muscles. Only in the profane world was she forced to play the inferior quarry to safeguard her strength in the Force.

Better to wait, she told himself. Better to lead the three of them to higher ground, where the air was even thinner and the mimetic suits would be hard-pressed to provide concealment. There she would turn the tables in what might at least appear to be an ordinary way.
In her thoughts, her Master spoke to her: Imagine your trail, and the Force will open it.

 

[Vrag]

[7/20]
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Drana'stair'eno"]​

Her eyebrows shot up for the second time in twice as many minutes as the chiss piped up, and she was about to backhand his insolent face into the other wall when he continued, and suddenly it became readily apparent that he was talking not to the Sith Lord, but rather… to himself.

What the actual kark.

It was just her luck, that the she picked up another stray crazy. Was there an aura that she wasn't aware of? Had someone taped a piece of paper on her back saying "Stark raving mad goes here!"?

Kark if she knew.

"Th Goddenevermind," she abandoned the word halfway through with a roll of her eyes. The guy was nuts. It was hopeless.

"What are you, Astaire?" the Hand of the Dark Lord reshaped her question instead while her HUD ran facial recognition on that grinning blue face to ascertain if he didn't have somewhere else to be.

Like an asylum, for example.