Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mando Finesse (Mandalorian Dominion of Serenno)

Kable remained where he was on Strider's left flank. He made no comment, @[member="Anija Ordo"] had expressed his sentiments to the letter. He was here as an escort nothing more.
@[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="Garrus Garon"] @[member="Ordo"]
 
Arrbi Betna kept a few paces behind @[member="Strider Garon"] and @[member="Ordo"]. He had opted to hide his Alor sigil on his pauldron under a thick shoulder cape and carried onlyhis .44 revolver and a polished beskad. For all intents and purposes, he appeared a simple bodyguard. He kept his emotions under control as he'd heard there may be Force users among the diplomats and nobility here. All they would sense is an intense focus and a deep resolve in his duty. They had no idea he was here on Mandal Hypernautics' behalf.

Well, mostly resolve and duty. They might sense him stealing a look or three at @[member="Anija Ordo"]'s rear end. It helped keep him focused, more or less.
 
Nolan kept a weary eye on the droids by the other ship, he heard that Strider was going to the Countesses residents and noted its location on his datapad. He walked to the edge of the landing platform and peered out towards the Countesses domicile, a luxurious mansion of a home. Too much for Nolan's blood, but someone had to like it to live in it.

A flicker on the peripheral of his vision attracted him to the droids, they were all on the edge of the platform as well, as if they were mimicing Nolan's movements to keep an eye on him as well.

@[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="Count Aretine"] @Anija Ordo @Garrus Garon @Mac O Shenanigans @Count Morcus @Briika Tor @Ordo
 

Taa Nul

CEO of Kamigen Incorporated
The Count would peer at the newly arrived @[member="Count Aretine"], strolling over to introduce himself. ''Ahh, fellow noble blood. Greetings to you, my friend. I trust you've come to oversee these negotiations as well?'', he'd say. Aretine would no doubt notice the curved lightsaber strapped to Morcus's belt, and his slightly bogan aura. A duo of shuttles outfitted with stealth technology would descend from the Count's ship above the planet, before quietly landing near the exterior of the Countess's palace, within a forested area. Mysterious figures would exit the shuttles, tossing camouflage blankets over the shuttles so they'd blend in before taking positions in the trees, in an attempt to remain hidden.
While their currently undetected operation was carried out, the Count would still be introducing himself to the other Count, taking care to show no sign of his plot to anyone in the group.
@Strider Garon @Count Aretine @Anija Ordo @Garrus Garon @Mac O Shenanigans @Count Morcus @Briika Tor @Ordo
 
Preliat remained outside, leaning on the speeder beside the other Garon brother. He blinked several times, before crossing his legs. He turned to @[member="Garrus Garon"]. Smoke trailed from the end of his depleting cigarette.

"Ten credits says this goes South soon and we have to go in there."
 
...everyone else had went ahead and Garrus had remained quiet, leaning against the land speeder for some time after their departure, until he heard the other Mandolorian speak to him. He'd contemplated momentarily before answering..."Don't try to play me. We both know it's going to go south."...as his eyes turned towards Preliat and he chuckled a bit. Garrus was still without his helmet out here as he remained against the landspeeder revealing his rather rough looking features though after a long life lived as a warrior he could have looked a lot worse than he did.

The Blaster Rifle he'd brought was still slung back over his right shoulder, Garrus didn't look to keen to use it if only because he liked to use his hands, but if he had to rush the estate it would quickly find its way into his hands and aimed ahead. It wasn't long before one of the Countess Servants ventured outside to offer refreshment, likely sent by Strider, and Garrus was ready to reach out and take it before he hesitated.
"Don't suppose you've got any hooch?"...he asked Preliat rather hopefully, he preferred a working mans drink as compared to the finery found in the cellars of the nobles, but that wouldn't stop him from reaching out to take a bottle by the neck before he raised it to his mouth. Tipping his head Garrus sniffed the bottle, didn't smell like poison but it was so hard to tell, then he'd press it to his mouth and take a pull before swishing it all around in his mouth. He swallowed a bit and the rest he spat out just for color before dismissing the servant who'd delivered it..."Thank your Mistress. Now get out of here."...then he'd turn his eyes back to Preliat and offer him the bottle..."Drink?"...before surveying the area again...
@[member="Preliat Mantis"]​
 
Arla had been very quiet as she moved along with the delegation, she listened more than anything else. Everything felt odd, when she saw her buir react and speak that Tracyn Ordo was dead she said a silent prayer she had never met him but he was a member of the clan, and therefore would be remembered .

She sighed just a little strange the things that she noticed as they walked, the interaction between the vod, the words that seem to hang in the air unspoken. She was ready to get back on board Nomad and do a little running around the galaxy again. It beat this.

@Anija Ordo @Strider Garon @Count Morcus @Kable Detta @Briika Tor @Preliat Mantis @[member="Mac O Shenanigans"]
 
@[member="Garrus Garon"]


"Trying to put the bottle down."He lit another cigarette. One vice at a time. He turned to the other Mandalorian, folding his armored arms. His armor gently nestled against each other. He looked out to the scenery beyond the platform, and spoke to Garrus, without directly looking at him.


"You ever want something more out of life?"
 
...they were Warriors of different vices, Garrus didn't smoke and it appeared that Preliat had given up drinking, yet the two of them served the same cause and hearing the question that had been posed Garrus would have shrugged both of his shoulders. "Once."...he started to admit..."Now I am resigned to the Warrior lifestyle like my Brother. Mercenary work would not be for me; I fight because I love it."...it was a simple explanation but after Garrus had given it he was resigned to consider what other options he may have overlooked. After all Mandolore had fertile farm land as well but the Warrior could not envision himself tending the plough and his crops; maybe if he was forced into retirement or crippled beyond the ability to be battle ready again but otherwise this was unlikely. Besides that Garrus, also, did not see himself as much of a teacher though the things he knew would likely be beneficial to the next generation of Mandolorians. No he was a Warrior and resigned to this life though but he did have his own ideas beyond drowning himself in the bottle and combat...

...lifting the bottle to his mouth he'd brush it against his lips and sample the fragrant liquor again, swishing it around in his mouth, before swallowing it down slowly. Every drink he took made Garrus feel more at ease, he'd been starting to sweat a bit beforehand but now all that was at an end, however as he drew the bottle back down he would say..."
Might be nice to find a woman some day. They can make good company."...clearly he wasn't a family man either and he liked his women hard, strong, the type that could bloody his mouth before he took them to bed. "What about you?"...he'd have asked Preliat once he'd finished his momentary reverie, it certainly seemed as though the man had something on his mind, and with an amount of curiosity noticeable in his voice...
@[member="Preliat Mantis"]​
 
@[member="Garrus Garon"]


"There's a woman in my life. At least..well, anyway. I was thinking, what if I don't make it out of my next fight, you know? What if I don't walk away? What happens to her? Is it really, all worth it? I mean, I'll heed Mand'alor, I love Gil, and I love my people but..."He paused to gesture around to the area."What's this all for? I mean, why do we need this planet, why do we need to continually go after things we don't need? We should be...I don't know. Serenno, taking over planets, doesn't really seem...productive to me. Maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture, or maybe I am, in a different way. I just don't see how getting a planet under our wing that's a bunch of stuck up rich assholes is going to help us."He took a long drag of his cigarette. The man was young, but he was capable, and there was a fire like no other in him, that much was obvious.


"I used to be a Null-hockey star. Used to smash people's in, used to clunk people in so hard that they wake up the next day asking what inning it was. I was good at what I did. I wonder what I'd be like if I still played. But I'd always be the goon."
 
..."It's the way of Mandalore."...came the only answer that Garrus could give to the younger man..."Ours is a religion of battle and blood and it burns bright across the galaxy. There are those that might look down on us, even fear us, for what we do but Mandalore accepts all people regardless of race, gender or creed. We are Warriors born so we do this because it is..."...for lack of a better term here..."...what we do."...hopefully Preliat wasn't looking for a larger or more complex answer because Garrus didn't have one for him. No the Warrior just kept taking small sips out of that bottle of liquor he'd been brought, his eyes darting over the estate and the landscape surrounding it while he continued to lean against the landspeeder and then he'd have added..."This planet doesn't mean anything until we have it or lose it. You'll find many things in life don't matter until you lose them."...he seemed a bit glum by his own words however..."If you are dissatisfied remember there are many ways to serve the Manda'lor though. You say you were a goon in your life before this one but the choice to break the chain is yours. Nothing says you can't change if you want it."...the irony is that must have gone for Garrus as well but in truth he really didn't want it...

...
"Tell me about your Woman."...he'd have said to Preliat then believing that she must have made quite an impact on him if he spoke of his worries that he might not come home when he went off to battle. Truth be told Garrus may have been a tad envious because if he didn't go off to the next battle he would likely disappear for several weeks to a month only to be discovered in another cantina by his Brother. That was his lot in life.
@[member="Preliat Mantis"]​
 

Matreya

Well-Known Member
Touching down late, a huge man wearing a tall trenchcoat that reached his ankles stepped out, placing a wide flat rimmed hat atop his head. Beneath the coat he bore a lightweight beskar'gam that was jet black, recently polished as well. Though he was obviously capable without his helm, it was on his ship if a battle did indeed begin. As usual he also adorned his KD-30 Slugthrowers on his person, 3 in total; one on each his hips, as well as one strapped to the right of his ribcage.

Tipping the brim of his hat lower, the man walked closer to where his sensors read his allies. His gait was slow and determined, a being of his strength was never in a hurry - save for war. Glancing to his right the man let his eyes focus for but a tenth of a second, then he might as well have been a hundred yards further along his field of vision for he could easily now distinguish his brethren.

Walking now in their direction, he glanced for the briefest of time towards the skies, the light hurt his vision far to much however to keep at it. When his eyes were brought back down he lifted into the air for a moment, raised by the jetpack strapped against his back - uncomfortably placed against in the center of his wings which he had strapped so tight they couldnt be seen.

Landing as silent as he had been the entire trip here, the man nodded to the others and finally broke said lack of noise, "Han'zel Dovorius, what did i miss?"

@[member="Garrus Garon"] @[member="Preliat Mantis"]
 
@[member="Count Morcus"]

Aretine turned to face the other Count, his rank apparent by his dress, and instinctively looked to his left shoulder when he saw that he did not recognize this man. He must not belong to a Great House, but rather one of the Minor Houses of the planet. Aretine's personal advisor would normally be standing there, handily whispering the names of people not important enough for the Count to remember to save him from embarassment, but the space to his left space was empty this morning. Annoyed by this, Vanco narrowed his eyes back on Morcus.

"I've come to oversee these negotiations personally. Although you'll forgive me, for it seems we haven't met." The Count lowered his head. "And our guests will also forgive me, for they have not yet informed the Great Houses on the purpose of their visit to our courts and wine cellars."

Of course, Aretine could fathom a guess. And if he had known that Morcus had just attempted to sell out his entire planet only minutes ago, Aretine's response would have been far less formal.
 

Taa Nul

CEO of Kamigen Incorporated
The Count would smile, nodding at the fellow Count politely. ''They've come to make an arrangement with the Great Houses to support the Mandalorian Empire......I foresee an great opportunity here.....if I play my cards right with that one over there.....'', he'd say, pointing at @[member="Strider Garon"]. ''........Serenno will become richer than we have ever been......these Mandalorians, they lack ''economic'' purpose.....a few swift strokes and we could easily buy them out....'', he'd say, a wicked grin on his face. What the Count said would imply the possibility of great wealth indeed...
@[member="Count Aretine"]
 
Nolan was right, as he looked out at the Mansion of the Countess, a pair of shuttles descended into the exterior landscape, men exited, covered the shuttles with some tarps and proceeded to hide in the trees. Quickly, with a flicker of his eyes, he sent a quick message to his vode...

Incoming, shuttles just landed in the area. I witnessed men running to the trees to the West of the Mansion. Repeat, incoming, threat level medium. Keep your eyes open.

To @[member="Strider Garon"] personally, What would you like me to do? I have the ship and a direct line of sight on them.

@[member="Kable Detta"] @[member="Briika Tor"] @[member="Garrus Garon"] @[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Arla Balor"] @[member="Ordo"]
 
The thing about running a business that no one ever truly anticipated was just how much paperwork was involved. Step away for a day and a mound of the stuff will find its way to your desk in your absence. Eventually, managing the pile simply became more important that matters that would otherwise require the attention of one such as Rygel Larraq. But if he didn't manage the paperwork, his company would grind to a halt and the the Mandalorian Clans would suffer for it.

So every now and then, trusted substitutes had to be relied upon.

To an extent.

Rygel Larraq sat in his office on Mandalore and worked diligently to shorten the stack of papers and emails that demanded his attention. Numerous dark rings on the corner of his desk marked the number of coffee mugs he had gone through. A small forest of cigarette butts in an ashtray likewise cataloged his intake of poison for the day. But through it all a holodisplay in the corner of his office kept him appraised of the progress on Serenno. Live audio and video feed from numerous sources filtered through holonet channels and into his office. The primary one was a sliced feed from the helmet of his representative, @[member="Arrbi Betna"].

On the other side of the holodisplay, the work of numerous slicers, intel officers, and tacticians continued to catalog military and civilian targets on the surface of the planet. Current estimates claimed that a mere eight Kandosii-type Dreadnoughts would be needed to wipe every major target off the face of the planet.

Larraq lit another cigarette as he continued to sign and review one document after another.

One way or another, Serenno would soon fall under Mandalorian rule. Of that, Rygel Larraq had no doubt.
 
Nessarose was working on her breathing. Inhale, exhale, rinse, repeat. The trip to Serenno was one she'd been planning on doing for quite the time, though certain activities had kept her from showing up earlier. And now... "We may be too late," she whispered, knowing already that she would have no answer from her entourage about it. They were still learning the ways of politics outside of their planet, where things were... Different. Where they would not be able to challenge a single champion, and where not even burial rights would be held should one of them fall.

Serenno. She had childhood memories of its Countess. Her mother, the political mastermind that she had been, had kept her ties with the planet, as well as others. Nessarose had only been a girl of four when those ended, and she had to admit she remembered very little, but she was learning the game. The Queen of Endelaan was learning the game of galactic politics that required more than a pretty smile, and she was taking her steps into it.

It had been several days prior to her arrival on the planet that she'd studied the maps, taken notes of territories, trying to gauge expansions and directions. She had the Force to aide her, though she was yet at the level of comprehension that her mother was with her. Her mother... Her mother could understand what she saw. Nessarose could only accept the visions and do her best. For the time being. She would grow even stronger with time, she knew, and she would focus.

It had taken a few more hours to study the etiquette of the planet. The dress codes. The smiles, the gestures. She read anything she could get her hands on, subjecting it all to memory. Jeans and a hoodie would not suffice, not here. She had a special gown made; one that hugged every curve of her young body, the front dipping down until below the belly button. Bleached wompa fur of the highest quality had been using for the plunging neck line, ending just above her shoulders that left her long arms bare. Even her hair had been done, the usual mess now an elegant waterfall of elaborate curls. The face though... That she had left untouched, save for a touch of color to her lips. The brightness of her eyes framed all that she needed. After a fashion, one could claim that she almost looked like her mother. Almost.

Six of her people had she brought with her; three Sorceresses, three Warriors, all gifted by the Force and trained to excel in their jobs. Their attire, she'd kept more modest. While the fabrics were all shiny and glimmery, they still represented the chance in rank with the simple cuts she'd chosen.

"Send word to to the Countess," she ordered her handmaiden. The time was growing short. It would be a few minutes before she arrived, and the very ebb and flow of the Force through the air alerted her that she would have to be careful. This was a dangerous game to play, and her enemies, though they might not identify themselves as such just yet, were already there.

@[member="Countess of Báthory"]
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
SIDE OBJECTIVE
COVERT OPS SMASH THINGS​
@[member="Serock Hoath"] @erryone​

Serenno wasn't the most unified of worlds, all things considered. Counts, all formal equals. Dang close to feudalism, in Ember's admittedly inexpert parlance. So while the diplomats did their thing, Ember and company were bound for one of the many residences of another Count entirely. Or, more specifically, the vault underneath that residence.

Oh, and the rule for this op? No armor -- at least no Mandalorian stuff. This was a heist. Stocking caps and blasterproof vests and whatever one could carry.

The kind of crime that happened every day. Nothing out of the ordinary...so far as anyone knew.

Because in that vault was not just a fethton of money and gemstones, but some kind of artifact of Dooku. Implications ALL over the place.
 

Hira Mitsae

Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
Serock Hoath did not know anything about Dooku's and artifacts, but he knew the ring of credits when he heard it. So when some Ember-fellow decided to do a sign-up for a heist... well Serock was all over that baby. Nothing beats the feel of credits in your pants and booze in your stomach. There was some mention about no Mandalorian armor and that was fine, he did not own any anyway.

Come to think about it, neither did he have blaster-proof armor or a blaster for that matter. The only thing he had was a bunch of knives, his fur and leather outfit and maybe a shotgun. Maybe because he did not know how many bullets he was carrying with him, drinking in the morning would do that to you.

"Alright so what's the plan here, lad?"
@[member="Ember Rekali"]
 

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