Oh Lorrd [The Primeval Dominion of Lorrd]

[Boethiah]

Renowned for its vast libraries and many institutes of higher learning; Lorrd is one of the few great centers of the galaxy. Located near the edges of Wild Space within the Tingel Arm, this world is an enclave of culture, knowledge, and prosperity free for all the good people of the galaxy to enjoy. However; with darker times approaching and the winds of change converging, the wise leaders of Lorrd have agreed to meet with the Primeval and peacefully assimilate into their growing domain.

Elsewhere in Lorrd City; a famed performance troupe along with the University of Pangalactic Studies is putting on a performance about myths and truths surrounding the great hero Obi-Wan Kenobi, and how it changed the galaxy. The show is being held in one of the great amphitheatres located in the heart of the city itself and members of the Primeval's delegation are granted preferred seating should anyone wish to go.

Last but not least, legends of the Slave Pits of Lorrd have surfaced once more. Beggars living in the derelict Slave's Quarter of old tell of strange noises coming from the pits at night and those few who've ventured near claim to have seen creatures of awesome power wandering the cells that once held the enslaved peoples long ago. Whether or not these beats yet live is uncertain but perhaps there is more to these tales than just fear and gossip.

Here on Lorrd there is much to do but be wary... There are dark rumors of a heretical cult that oppose Lorrd's peaceful assimilation. They are just rumors at the moment but rumors ignored can have terrible consequences.

Dangers lurk even on the brightest of days and the unknown may haunt the very path you walk. No shadow can be left unaccounted for.

The Primeval must have Lorrd at all costs; and if not for the cause, do so for the riches that follow.

[member="Vhaeri"] | [member="Spencer Jacobs"] | [member="Setzi Lunelle"] | [member="Darth Voracitos"] | [member="Braith"] | The Primeval

Spoiler: OOC

Objective A
The Conference

The wise leaders of Lorrd, seekers of knowledge, have come to the conclusion that trying to fight the Primeval’s forces would only cause unnecessary destruction of their centers of learning and culture. Meet with the leaders of Lorrd and negotiate the peaceful assimilation of their planet into the Primeval.

Objective B
Enjoy the Show

Lorrds culture is known throughout the galaxy for its diverse schools of learning. The galactically famed Lorrd performance troupe along with research from the University of Pangalactic Studies is putting on a performance about the myths and truths surrounding the great hero Obi-Wan Kenobi, and how it changed the galaxy.

Objective C
Pits of Despair
The Slave Pits of Lorrd are legendary, dating back almost five thousand years, legends tell that Jedi master Mari-Elan Nora sealed up the pits without actually destroying the creatures that were said to be held within. Explore the pits and see if anything still remains of the creatures.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 1 of 20
Location: Lorrd City Spaceport
Objective: Ω - Plan Boo

Spoiler: Obligatory 80s Post Theme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4XjxPiKyPk​

Lorrd.

The only bright spot along the Veragi Trade Route. The economic hub for all things entering, exiting, or passing through the Kanz Sector. For an incestuous, buddy-karking cluster of worlds, there was a surprising amount of diversity floating around. Sipsk'ud -- spider-eyed, duck-billed, walking mallards -- waddling around in their environmental suits. The hulking frames of green-skinned Argazdans. And, of course, the Lorridans who were deceptively human. The three races of the sector to have survived the Argazdan Empire, which saw the extinction of two other sentient worlds and their people.

And came close to turning the Lorridans out as a third such example.

"This is a Coalition identicard."

Officer Mieke Halon was one of Lorrd Security Force's finest. Heavy set build, just overweight enough to where it was noticeable as he sat at the immigration kiosk, a washed out caf stain on his shirt and a severe look upon his face as the man oversaw Aisle 7 of the cattle line that was customs processing.

"Yes, sir?"

The way that the boy had uttered those words made it clear he wasn't certain if the comment as to the origin of his passport was a statement or a question. Which, this was not only ironic, but fething hilarious.

The Primeval were here. In the open. A full on, ambassadorial entourage. A State visit. Diplomatic talks. And, with all that going on, the young Pantoran was playing the Levantine card for all it was worth. It was with just that sentiment in mind that the blue-skinned youth turned his arm so that the patch on his uniform sleeve could be better seen by the border guard. "I'm a cadet at the Levantine Astronautical Academy," the boy stated proudly.

Did they even have a sports team?

They needed a sports team. Mascot or something. Grav-ball maybe. The Levantine... something. Hawk-Bats maybe.

Straightening back up, the Pantoran clasped his hands behind his back as he rocked back on his heels. Adopting a juvenile, vulberable air, the tweenage youngling seemed apprehensive as he asked, "Is there a problem, sir?"

Lorridians could read body language better than a Muun could read stock quotes. For all the work and effort he was putting into this cover, he better well damn be getting nominating for a karking Racso award at the Bastion Festival for Theater and Performance Arts.

The back of Officer Halon's hand smacked down on top of the card-chip containing a slightly modified student data file on him. To start with, the boy had been born on Coruscant, but the identicard he'd presented gave his homeworld as Ziost. Second of all, his name wasn't Fei Yolo. There really was a Fei Yolo, who really was a student at the Levantine Academy, or had been until he'd graduated...

"Maybe you haven't noticed, son, but there's a Primeval delegation visiting the planet," Halon barked, picking up the identicard emblazoned with the logo of the Silver Sanctum Coalition and holding it as though now in possession of some illegal contraband. Looking down at the boy from over the top of the chip, the man practically growled as he demanded,"Purpose of your trip?"

The Pantoran's heels clicked together as he snapped to attention with military precision.

Well, ROTC precision anyway.

Junior ROTC.

"Sir, study abroad program, sir," the youth reported succinctly, holding his body rigid as he held his breath in wait for either the next question or permission to breathe.

"Are all Pantoran teenagers as small as you?"

Another minor alteration of the biographical data. Boo may have lied and said he was thirteen. You'd think he'd be thirteen by now. After all, he'd been in something like 25 threads by this point. And what did he have for it? No winter fetes. No birthday parties. Not even one of those awkward ones, where you couldn't get rid of your parents or their friends and they just kind of hovered there without ever getting the hint.

A faint blush of violet dusted the boy's cheeks, his amber eyes diverted as he sheepishly looked away in embarrassment at his stature being called out. "Oh, you don't want to be all that big in the frozen tundra, sir," the boy managed meekly.

Officer Halon gave a grunt, begrudging the topic as he seemed almost ready to admit the boy. Looking up, the Lorridan officer said, "Well, we'll need an adult to claim responsibility for you while..."

"You mean Professor Knight?" the boy asked, interrupting the man before the child turned and hopping up in the air as he waved and beckoned over to an older man who'd been standing over in the line for Lorrd citizens. "Professor!"

As the distinguished looking gentleman proceeded toward the kiosk where the boy was detained, Officer Halon looked up to ask, "Is this young..." The man paused, halting his speech before he could say 'youngling'. Covering the slight instead by saying, "...young man with you, sir?"

"Academic exchange program with the Levantine Academy, my good man," the professor remarked dryly.

To the uninitiated, it might have appeared that had been the whole of the conversation, except that wouldn't have been true. On some subliminal level, the Pantoran was vaguely aware of some form of communication taking place on a different level complete. Facial expression, body posture. The kinetic language of the Lorridians was truly something of an enigma.

"Well, you picked a feth of a time for it," Officer Halon barked, sliding Boo's false identicard through the card reader to legitimize the student visa. The modified chip slid across the desk top toward the Pantoran a moment later. "Keep your head down kid. And for feth's sake, take that patch off your arm before one of these religious nut-jobs sees that damn thing."

He'd managed to smile and utter some vapid thanks, palming the identicard and making his way through the customs area of the star port. When the cadet and the professor had emerged from out of the bustling area, the purple haired youth turned his head up toward the gentleman. "It was very kind of you to ensure a young boy would make it through a crowded star port," the boy said, his words little more than a whisper, as a wave of one hand accompanied the statement.

"It was very kind of me to ensure a young boy..."

The man's recitation was stilted, almost mechanical. His eyes distant, as though in a daze.

A second wave. "You want to return to your family, and think about faith in Sargon," the tweenage agent whispered.

"I want to return to my family, and think about faith in Sargon."

"You will forget me," the boy said.

"I will forget..."

The man blinked, the statement halted as he seemed confused for a moment as to where he was. Or what he'd been doing. He'd been returning from a visit to Laekia. Had he been daydreaming? "Did I forget something?" the man asked rhetorically.

Looking around the interior of the star port, the man finally shrugged before he started back for home.

There was a religious tract in his pocket. Something about a god known as Sargon.

For some reason, he was eager to talk about this god with his family when he got home...

 

[The Traveler]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] Vhaerihttp://starwarsrp.net/user/5322-vhaeri/http://starwarsrp.net/user/5322-vhaeri/ | Spencer Jacobs | Setzi Lunelle | Darth Voracitos | Braith | The Primeval

Objective A:
Post 1/20


Scores of great centers of knowledge existed through out the cosmos, many grand and many of them that could be considered Great Repositories of Knowledge. Though few of them compared to the Great Libraries of Lorrd, a planet who seemed to have the sole concern of the advancement of wisdom and intellect through contemplative study and scholarly pursuits. That placed them above the Jedi, the Sith and the other lore keepers of the Galaxy. Their vast reservoir of knowledge was pure and untapped, free from the disease of biased perspective and that is what interested The Traveler the most. He had poured countless hours in his thousand year journey through the galaxy into many of the most archaic and forgotten sources that he could no longer remember the planets he had visited.


" The Arcana Luminox" he muttered, the voice amplifier in his helmet obscuring his voice with a dull mechanical sheen. " The Terantallic Beastium" he said with glee as he continued to look through the neatly filed tomes. So rare were paper books and the knowledge contained within them that they were great treasures worth more then a single world, at least to he that was. " The Manualus Darkus, Compendium Vlakius, The Necrovorus" he said taking mental note to come back to read them. He had spent many hours recently studying the lore and culture of the Lorrdians to prepare for this and he had even brought a gift that they would find most appropriate. A original copy of the Celestial Edict, written some ten thousand years ago by an astute archaeologist studying celestial s.

The Lost and forgotten moved through the hallways with an almost child like glee to him, he loved knowledge and he loved the persuit of it. In fact most of his time was spent studying one thing or the other, pouring over musty old tomes, watching ancient holocrons or meditating for the answers he sought.

" Oh this planet will be an asset much cherished" he said to himself " Like a moth to the flame i shall peer through it, devouring the knowledge like a starved man at a feast. Through it shall dominion further, with it shall mortal tremble, for with knowledge the titan doth grow to terror, its vines quivering and its roots grasping deep" he said to himself as he moved with haste towards the assembly room. " Oh the marvels of yester year, the treasures of the bygone, the legacy of the forgotten reforged how it shall be. As the pariah of abandonment finds its solace in the eternal pages of its tender grasp and wicked ways. Consumed ever eternal, thirsting of a fountain that can never be emptied, hungering for a feast that can never be depleted. Upon the centuries consummated lust for its gentle ebbing and flowing, nurtured by the dawning of the forth coming mind"

" Upon the fettered winds of change i have arrived to bring into the folds the Wisdom of Lorrd" he said to the receptionist, the keen metallic echoe of his voice eirly accenting his words. " Delegate of that which is of the Primeval, The Traveler of knowledge, The Journeyman of pursuit, The Follower of that which was and will be, The Father of that which must not and the The Legacy of that that once was. With great humility i come before them, ready to part words and give of the gift that is peaceful revelry."

The Receptionist smiled " The Wise Leaders are ready for you"

 

[Mishk]

[member="The Traveler"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Objective A
Location conference room
Post 1/20


Mishk was astounded. This planet held so much secrets and lore. The mad jawas mind had been occupied with the tenets of the primeval to such an extent that he had, much to the relief of [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] s salves, even forgotten to eat. His total concentration on interpreting and contemplating the sacred texts of the primevil had opened his eyes to totally new possibilities. His diligence had finally been noticed by the Directory who at first dismissed it. It had been a silent understanding that Mishk possessed very little intelligence and thus would not really be of much use apart from a butcher to send in the warlords place at times.
But, further study of the Jawas behavior had noticed new patterns of behavior. The random killing and eating their corpses had changed into something of a more ritualistic nature.
With hesitation the Directory had finally decided that this odd apprentice must be trying to figure out the ancient ways of the primevil religion.
This had been something that they felt complied to support and Mishk had been sent several tutors and Prylar's to try and educate him. It had been a successful endevour, despite most of the prylar's unfortunate deaths. Fore most, Mishk seemed more controlled, more focused. Easier to use.

For this occasion he had been given an extraordinary task. He was sent as one of the warlords representatives to seek insight on this planet and follow the negotiations from a pious perspective.

Mishk had entered the conference room and immediately sought out a footstool in a dark corner. there he sat with a datapad taking notes on who was there and what whom said. He himself remained silent. Because the Directory had told him that it would be wise to first learn how to speak before trying it.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective C, Slave Pits
Allies: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="The Squirrely"]
Posts: 1/20

A deep, foreboding, black hole.

Not the space kind, nor was it the kind you find in a cemetery or a well.

This unusual, black hole is what lie at the center of the Slave Pits of Lorrd and beyond that? Possibly something more sinister. But it was hard to tell as Setzi stood on the precipice of the pits and stared down into the inky, infinite-seeming gloom. She heard nothing.

She was here to meet with some Lorrdian slavers who she assumed were working under alias’s given that their names were One-Eyed Johnnie and Huey Laroux. Also rendezvousing with her at the Pits would be her Master Darth Pyrrhus, and another Sith Lord and fellow Alchemist, Darth Metus. She wasn’t sure what Metus needed with the Pits, but the entire location was far too quiet and eerie for her liking. Thousands of Lorrdian slaves had died in the construction of this giant, man-made crater. She felt a heavy presence, almost as if their ghosts were judging her for her soon-to-be actions.

 

[Malok]

Objective: C, Slave Pits
Allies: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="The Squirrely"] | [member="Setzi Lunelle"]
Posts: 1/20

Emerging fresh from their triumph at Ziost, the Primeval rapid expansion of the Primeval saw the designation of Lorrd as a new target. This world possessed many favorable traits, all of which resulted in its becoming a target by the Host. Rather then fight in vain, the denizens of Lorrd did the smart thing and welcomed their incoming overlords. Thus, the day presented numerous opportunities for all the agents and allies of the Primeval. As for Darth Metus, he found himself mulling over what to do on this particular operation. He could put his silver tongue to good use at the meeting with the Lorrdian elite...or...he could kick back and enjoy a ridiculously well put together show.

Or. He could play in the Hole.

Lorrd had a hole. It wasn't a simple dent made by a shovel...but rather, it was a literal abyss. According to local legend, this particular monstrosity was created by hand; and it paled in comparison to the demons supposedly hiding below. Efforts had been made by those who had visited Lorrd in the past to cover up the so-called Pit, but now a handful of the Primeval's own had their sights on it. Yep, he was going to play in the Hole. Ever punctual, the Sith Lord arrived only a few moments following the advent of one [member="Setzi Lunelle"]. He did not know the woman standing at mouth of the abyss by name, but her affiliation with the Host was enough to warrant a...courteous greeting.

He came to a halt a few paces back before placing his hand flat upon his chest. A polite inclination of his head was offered before Metus took a gander at what laid ahead. Oh boy, this was going to be loads of "fun"." For now, the Sith Lord held his peace, instead opting to listen to whatever information the local "guides" had to offer before proceeding.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 2 of 20
Location: Qatamer
Objective: Ω - Plan Boo

Truth was as ubiquitous as righteousness.

Depending on who you asked, Montblanc Jedediah Zeal was either a man of goddess or a terrorist. A leader of the Vianist faith, Shepherd Zeal - as he was known - had founded a church known as Via Libellus Sanguinis twenty years ago. Already an outspoken opponent to many governments and societal customs, Shepherd Zeal and his Vianist church were made prominent through the boycotting of Jedi or fallen soldier funerals. Five years later, Zeal took credit for the religious conversion of Ken J'ong Fel - the former dictator of Bakura wanted for crimes against humanity by every respected galactic tribunal from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim.

The first evangelical outreach of these people of the goddess would be to assassinate a prominent doctor and secular humanist in Lorrd City. The next was a mass shooting inside the Lorrd University. Only a short time later, Libellus Sanguinis took credit for the bombings of the Republic embassy on Lorrd.

That was the start of where popular opinion about Shepherd Zeal and his Libellus Sanguinis cult sharply divided based on perception or point of view. Decried by the government of Lorrd as criminals, attacked by the media as terrorists, the cult of Via received unexpected support from Qatamer and other outlying sectors when a drone strike on Libellus Sanguinis claimed the life of Ken J'ong Fel and the eye of Shepherd Zeal.

The government of Lorrd described it as counter-terrorism operations, but people surrounding the Vianist cult referred to it as something else.

They called it the Crusade.

Perhaps that was not to be unexpected. Religion was arguably even older than the galaxy itself. And the Primeval was not the oldest of religions, but merely one of hundreds - if not thousands - of religious faiths that predated the dawn of man.

Via Libellus Sanguinus was a problem, one that the government of Lorrd had proven ineffective in dealing with.

The Primeval did not tolerate fools, or heretics. Ken J'ong Fel had become a martyr not because he had died, but because the government had failed to remove the man capable of escalating a war criminal to religious saint: Montblanc Jedediah Zeal. The power and persuasion behind Libellus Sanguinus' cult of personality.

The official talks between the Primeval and the government of Lorrd made taking any direct action against the Libellus Sanguinus problematic. Lorrd was the sovereign territory of the Lorridians, and not yet Primeval space. Nor had the Lorridians asked for assistance.

So, this operation was completely off the books. And the Pantoran was merely a tourist -- a student from the Levantine Academy studying abroad at the Lorrd University.

His orders were clear: To find, and eliminate, Shepherd Zeal.

 

[Boethiah]

Objective: A
Location: Landing pad.
Allies: [member="Jun Nez"] | [member="Mishk"]
Enemies: N/A
[02/20]

Lorrd was a world that Anja could appreciate. It was a place of knowledge, a sanctuary for intellectualism and enlightenment; somewhere she could unlock the galaxy's greatest secrets. For the Primeval at large, it was a treasure trove of documentation, research, and historical archives. A place like this would not only provide a means for better understanding but also give them access to blueprints that would support their growing fleets and armies. Particularly, Anja had been given word of an advanced reactor system developed long ago by the Empire. Here on Lorrd it was part of several treasured secrets kept secured by the planet's ruling elite. Only the wisest of them had access to it.

Now things were changing. The wise leaders, seekers of knowledge, had agreed it was in their best interest to join the Primeval peacefully rather than risk destruction. It was because of their keepsake that the Host Lord agreed to this arrangement, even though the Primeval could've easily invaded and taken over the world.

Traveling with her was a trusted guardian, someone she knew would aid her should anything go wrong.

"Do not speak unless spoken to, and keep an eye out for anything suspicious." She turned to Jun, her pale eyes glanced at the Kel Dorian before returning their sight towards the doorway ahead. Several guards of Lorrd greeted them, before allowing the two entry.

 

[Brooke Waters]

Objective B so fancy
Post: 20 minus zero

Token Waters was trying to be proper this time. Sure, the girl was known around her casinos, and the new one on Dubrillion to be a good time gal, and she enjoyed her fun and fun times. But right now? There was work to be done for the government that had taken her in, the Primeval, on the world of Lorrd. Lorrd had a lot to offer and many more things that she was very interested in. A site of culture and learning, the blonde was, admittedly, most excited for that. Was that bad?

Did that make her a terrible Primeval member?

Or a terrible witch?

Listen, she really liked the urban life, and part of that, beyond going to clubs and taking too many selfies? That was learning culture. Hence why she was in her sneakers and a black dress, and y’know, make up done in a not so Tove Lo style, and making herself seem the metropolitan CEO of an intergalactic casino and resort company. And that was what she was trying to project as she stepped into the performance hall.

No trashing the hotel, or getting drunk on the mini bar.

 

[Mishk]

Objective A
Location council chambers
Allies [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]
Enemies ?
Post 2/20

The host lord entered with her guard @jun nex and mishk stood up. Eagerly fingering on his datapad. He put a small knee on the floor and bowed his head.

He knew who this was. She was the closest representation of the church of Sargon and she was therefore beautiful. While his small body and torn black cloak most likely was unworthy of attention he did eminate the force and the moment as the host lord passed his voice hissed a hymn:

“Beneath Mighty Sargon's gaze
My hand stretches forth -
Balagoth's power is suborned!

Halrormalenth's favoured fall!
The heresy steals away
Black waves he rides to new worlds

Atop the darkest slope
A bargain pledged
Divine trickery surpassed

What price this dull world
For life eturnal?
I grasp this power in my hand!”

He hissed form the bottom of his dark soul. A bargain pledged...

"Amen."

Retaking his seat he kept the datapad given to him by the warlords directory. He held it up side down, but he held onto it regardless.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 3 of 20
Location: Qatamer
Objective: Ω - Plan Boo

The Eye of the Needle was a seamstress shop on the lowest east side of town.

Owned since 818 ABY by Carlita Letiz Suisse, the small store front boasted bolts of fabric, sewing machines, and supplies. None of which would appear to require the size of the boxes that were being unloaded from off a delivery speeder and taken inside of the store. And the delivery men seemed a tad cautious for a pair of dudes unloading fabric. Case in point: the slight bulge of a pistol grip jutting out from underneath one guy's shirt.

He was packing a blaster in the waistband of his pants, at the small of his back.

At twenty credits a square meter, cloth hardly seemed so hot a commodity as to require armed guards. So now we arrive at the rest of the story...

The Letiz family claimed to descend from Harol Letiz, a Vainist priest and an activist during the Kanz Disorders who had been killed for leading a peaceful, non-violent protest against the Argazdan overlords. He had a memorial over at the Crypt of the Martyrs. Tear-jerking stuff really. During one account of his ministry, he'd put himself between an Argazdan slave driver and a small slave child who was being whipped to death for stealing bread to eat. According to the folk lore, Harol Letiz had endured fifteen straight minutes of lashing, while praying with the small child he was protecting. And, when the slave driver had at last grown weary, the Vianist had forgiven him.

In contrast, his descendants were not nearly so evangelical.

Carlita's brother had been the Libellus Sanguinis assassin who had murdered the doctor and secular humanist outside of the hospital at Lorrd University Medical Center. She'd lost her husband in the drone strike that had killed Ken J'ong Fel and scarred Shepherd Zeal. Both of her sons had spent time in prison for 'terrorist activities' related to Libellus Sanguinis, and her daughter was on the Lorridian Government's Terror Watch List. If Harol Letiz had a spirit, it was well and truly dead.

The connection to Libellus Sanguinis ran deep. It made the seamstress shop a simple choice for where to begin. The fact that armed men were unloaded unmarked goods into the back of the store was just bonus.

Coming down the street, the blue-skinned Pantoran had a tourist map unfolded in his arms. Shuffling the paper around, he seemed lost as he paused, glancing up from the map to peer at a street marker, and then back to his map.

An astromech bumped into the boy from behind, the tell-tale warbling chirp of the R3 series making it clear that the dome-topped droid was unhappy that the young cadet had chosen that spot in which to stop.

Turning his head down, the blue boy looked confused for a moment, then brightened as he said, "Hey there, buddy." Kneeling down, and holding the map out to the droid's optical sensor, the boy asked, "Maybe you can help me with directions? I'm lookin' for the Crypt of the Martyrs."

With the map propped up on his knee, it provided a cover under which the child's hand reached out to the compartment on the front of the cylindrical droid. At his touch, the panels slid away to reveal a Czerka hold-out blaster and a silver cylinder wrapped in black leather.

Straightening up just a moment later, the boy folded the map away as he lamented, "My droidspeak is pretty rusty." Turning his head, the boy spied the open store front of the Eye of the Needle. Glancing back down at the droid, the tweenager just chimed, "Don't worry, I'll just ask over there."

And, with that, the young assassin started across the street.

 

[Jun Nez]

Objective: A
Location: Landing pad.
Allies: @Anja Aj'Rou | @Mishk
Enemies: N/A
[01/20]

It had been a long time, since Jun Nez had been on an official mission, this is what he needed. A quiet planet to get away from the drums of war, he could still hear them in the distance. "Ba dum, Ba dum... Ba Dum" the heavy sounds of marching drums was repeating over and over, when suddenly Anja Aj'Rou looked at him and told him to not speak unless spoken to. He wasn't one to speak much either way. He gave a reassuring nod towards Anja and then turned on his new scanners to start searching for hostiles.

The planet itself seems to be in good condition, it had been long since war had touched its surface. The Lorrd leaders were clever to a peaceful surrender. The Host Lord would repeat their ever expanding reign one way or another, this way, there were more soldiers to fight in glorious combat elsewhere. The mission was clear, protect Anja at all costs. The people, that Anja and Jun met along the way, didnt' seem to pose a threat, there were a few moments of fright when they gazed upon Anja, but mostly people tended to act honorably. In either case, Jun Nez had his blaster ready and his scanners on maximum capacity without external power.

 

[50H31]

Objective: A, in the sense of a hire/fire discussion.
Location: Council Chambers
Post 1 of 20


Five-oh had been here for a few weeks, running odd errands for the High masters and offering his tactical expertise and assessment in exchange for perusal of the various archives. This world was full of unusual things, and five-oh had happily traded his expertise with a few leaders on the planet in exchange for an opportunity to peruse them. But now, something more fascinating had occurred. A takeover, without war. He knew full well the tactical necessities of this situation, but he was neither here to represent the work of the Council, nor to necessarily avail himself of the Primeval's interest.




No, he was here to read the signs. He was sitting at the table, waiting politely with the high lords, bowing gently as several other delegates came in. "Greetings to you all," he said, waiting for the masters to talk. He would introduce himself properly when the delegation had finished arriving. For now, he would watch the situation unfold, seemingly more curious about the negotiation process than the actual results--he seemed complacent about what was likely inevitable.



But then again, inevitability was not the most important ideal. What really mattered to him was the methods, the tactics that would be employed in this negotiation. He wanted to see the souls of those around him, and confrontation allowed him to better perceive and analyze these Primeval Lords, and see if they were a worthy ally--or a dangerous impediment to his visions of paradise. After all, what was that old spacer proverb? Actions spoke louder than words. Of course, the hard part was the listening.



The droid seemed motionless and tranquil as he sat on chair, his legs folded as he sat to the side of several other beings who were the actual heads of this planet's government. Their actions would also be illuminating as well.



[member="Jun Nez"] @Mishk @Anja Aj'Rou [member="The Traveler"]

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 4 of 20
Location: Qatamer
Objective: Ω - Eliminate the Vianist Terror Group

Crossing the street, the Pantoran was still fumbling with the tourist map up as he made his way up from behind the delivery speeder.

He passed right by one of the dude's off-loading the cargo truck, seemingly unnoticed as the man lifted up a box and then turned his back to the child. The two barely intersected, and for little more than a second. To the casual observer, they'd have never made contact.

Boo had been a pickpocket on Coruscant. Some things you didn't forget. As the man shuffled off to take his crate inside, the boy folded the map over the large pistol that was now in his hands. A Merr-Sonn Power 9. Rather heavy to have been tucked into the waistband of some guy's pants. Under the cover of the map, the boy field stripped the weapon. The tibana gas and blaster bolt cartridges clinking against the road as they rolled underneath the speeder.

Pausing as he neared the driver's side door, the boy glanced back at his surrounding just long enough to satisfy himself that he wasn't the target of attention. Then, testing the security of the passenger door, quietly pulled it open and hopped up inside of the truck. The Merr-Sonn blaster pistol went clattering into the footwell, where it joined a collection of Biscuit Baron wrappers.

A quick survey of the vehicle didn't turn up much. A rental agreement. Invoice. It was something though. Documents with names and credit accounts associated with them. Taking those the Pantoran slipped the information into his pocket, as he passed over to the driver's side of the speeder.

Taking note of the distance on the speeder, the boy exited quietly onto the sidewalk in front of the store, unfolding the map again as he stepped inside. As he closed the door behind him, something moved in the Force.

The door locked.

A sign outside switched from We're Open! to Closed: We'll Be Back Soon.

Like so many signs in business, that wouldn't be entirely true.

 

[Brooke Waters]

The Whole World Has Gone 19

Token liked to do her own thing. And the fact that none of the Primeval were joining her in watching the show? That didn’t surprise her. Didn’t bother her much either. She liked to do things her own way, probably why she was in the Primeval and the Techno Union, and was a Witch and a metropolitan bombshell. She liked her life, it was fun. It made the rest of everything fun too. Sure, she missed some of the people in her life, Sindy, Zola, but well, they’d come around and she always found someone to have some fun with.

Besides, aside from being a terrible tease, she was a pretty girl, and pretty people always got what they wanted, right? She smiled as she stepped inside, and the little Force stereo system that could found her seat as the show began.

It was nice, to see a bit of culture and civilization come to the worlds of the Primeval. She was making sure her and her entourage were seen, it was good PR. And well, she wasn’t really useful in the fight, nor the discussion going on, so she’d do her own thang.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 5 of 20
Location: Eye of the Needle Fabric Shop, Qatamer
Objective: Ω - Eliminate the Vianist Terror Group

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNchOCVB1MQ​

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The boy's boots scraped against the floor of the shop. An elderly, grandmotherly matron - Carlita Letiz Suisse - sitting behind a cash register, cross-stitching with a ball of yarn propped on the counter. The two delivery men were moving from out of the back room. All three clearly startled by the sight of the young Pantoran. He could sense their surprise. And their irritation.

Fumbling with the map in his hands, the boy put on his best smile as he said, "I'm sorry, but I think I'm lost." Taking another step forward, the boy approached one of the men, holding it out as he explained, "Can you tell me how to get to the Crypt of the Martyrs from here?"

The irritation deepened. The atmosphere in the room one now eager to be rid of the intruder as quickly as possible. As the man reached out his hand to take the edge of the map, the boy dropped the act.

Even with their kinetic communication being so acute and innate, it was a couple of seconds before anyone had caught wind that anything had changed. Time in which the Pantoran had slipped a hand under the map to grab the hold-out blaster.

Breathe in.

The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop, as the boy reached inside of himself to seize hold of the Dark Side of the Force. His movements accelerated, the boy struck like a mongoose in a single fluid motion that brought the snub-nosed blaster up and leveled it at the man's head nearest him before anyone had even followed the fact that the boy had moved at all.

The two trigger pulls went off in such rapid succession that it seemed only a single shot had been fired. Double-tap to the head. The way that Tyro'din had taught him.

He'd already sighted in the second man by the time that the Vianist had realized what was happening. The shot catching him in the head the same moment in which his hand had grabbed hold of the blaster he'd been concealing in his pants.

As the last delivery man toppled over, the boy swept his arm up to level the blaster at the matron. As the echoes of the last shot faded, the shock was just beginning to lift the veil from her reasoning, so that as realization and horror overcame shock and awe, she knew that she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

Blood splattered up against the back wall of the shop, the sound of the blaster shot echoing loudly throughout the store.

The boy let out the breath that he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly as he did. Stepping over the bodies, the young Pantoran reached around the side of the counter to put a second blaster bolt in the grandmotherly corpse on the floor. Then, lowered the pistol in his hands, casually ejected the spent blaster cartridge. Slipping a new cartridge into the hold-out blaster, the boy casually tucked the small weapon away as he did a quick inspection of the bodies.

He took the comlinks, credit cubes, and identicards off all three of the bodies.

Then just walked out of the store, and vanished into plain sight.

 

[Boethiah]

Objective: A
Location: Meeting room.
Allies: [member="Jun Nez"] | [member="50H31"] | [member="Mishk"] | [member="The Traveler"]
Enemies: N/A
[03/20]

Already it seemed there was one inside, [member=The Traveler] had landed ahead of the Host Lord herself. She had read his dossier briefly on the way here but very little was known about this mysterious stranger, but it seemed his knowledge was great enough for him to be accepted into their entourage without much to go on. Such matters did not concern Anja, anyway, if he was capable then she was content. With the woman were two others, Jun Nez and Mishk. Both she knew far better than the third, who seemed to be a droid.

Anja took a seat with the Wise Leaders of Lorrd, and the five of them would begin their talks soon enough.

"And so the Primeval have arrived," one man bowed deeply in respect before sitting down in front of them. To his left and right were two others; a middle-aged woman and a surprisingly young man. They allowed their elder to speak on their behalf, both bowing as well before seating themselves after he had. "I hope your trip was as pleasant as it could be, I understand that these are trying times for all in the galaxy..." He gazed around the room, making mental notes of the others. "I never expected your people to be so diverse," a tone of genuine surprise carried those words to their ears.

"Yes... I do not wish to exchange pleasantries, but I thank you for your kind words. The Primeval have every intention to make this integration as peaceful and seamless as possible." She responded quickly, and then looked to those beside her for added thoughts on the matter.

 

[Brooke Waters]

Token Waters was all for the shows. She preferred music venues and that was an idea she had. The show had yet to start, but guess what? The girl owned a huge resort company that her cousin started and basically gave her carte blanche to do whatever she saw fit. And while there was an establishment on Dubrillion, Corey’s own distraction and the thread dying kind of upsets that story line. But still, it was there, and Corey just didn’t care to make his company tier five, it was fun just knowing it was in the Primeval and Techno Union space.

The blonde, though, she preferred music halls. She loved all kinds of music, alternative, not a big fan of jizz, well,…. That depends. Synethetic beats, rhyming lyrics, heavy bass, and fun pop stuff. If they could bring a multitude of musical acts to the planet… Or the whole nation-state of the Primeval, that would be interesting.

Did Primeval people… even… music?

She wasn’t so sure. But she made a quick list on her datapad. Resort, casino, music hall, local acting troupes, galactic history, the story of the Host Lord… right, they could so totes do this!

18

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 6 of 20
Location: Ruins of Frezen, Industrial Sector
Objective: Ω - Eliminate the Vianist Terror Group

Frezen had been a thriving metropolis thousands of years ago.

Orbital bombardment during the Kanz Disorders had left the area desolate and unable to support life. So it remained the ruins of a city. A living exhibit, slowing fading as wind and sand wore away the artifacts that lingered as a reminder of the past. The outskirts of what had been the edges of town had been re-zoned for warehouses, factories, and other facets of industry. Placing them within commuting distance of several other towns and cities, while avoiding polluting those areas with any industrial smog or waste. After all, the soil around Frezen was already barren. Its ground reservoirs no longer drinkable. So it made sense.

The mileage on the delivery speeder gave the Pantoran agent a radius that included the Frezen Industrial Sector. Call traces from the comlinks he'd taken from the 'delivery men' at the seamstress shop had included nine calls from this sector. The rental agreement for the delivery speeder was a cargo and freight transport company that had a store front here. And one of the inventory sheets had included the address of a warehouse here.

In a perfect world, the Pantoran would have waited to descend upon the warehouse under the cover of darkness. Except every minute ticking by now was a waiting game for Libellus Sanguinis to discover what had happened at the Eye of the Needle. And that might make them clam up. Or even leave Lorrd for a short time, to let things cool off before returning. Or even taking the terror show on the road.

Through the Force, the boy moved unseen. Easing his way past the cargo loaders and slipping through the doors of the warehouse.

If there were any secrets here, he would find them.

 

[Orkamaat]

[1/20]
Objective: The Conference
[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Jun Nez"] | [member="Mishk"] | [member="The Traveler"]​

They had Orkamaat hooked at 'library', really, but it only got better the longer he kept reading. Centre of higher learning? Knowledge? Culture?

The anzat was practically giddy, and the only things stopping him from bouncing on the soles of his feet with an excited smile on his face were a few millennia spent perfecting his control over voluntary muscle groups. A fascinating art, truly, and a demanding one as well. The amount of hours invested in studying how and when each of the many facial muscles moved was likely absurd in scopes of comprehension to anyone whose lifespan was not at least a fraction of the time allotted to the man.

None of the people gathered there on that day belonged to such a demographic, but they were nonetheless imbued with knowledge that far surpassed many of their peers. And it was with that wisdom that the the leaders of the revered planet had assembled to meet the envoy of the Primeval — or one of them, at least — in an attempt to avert the bloodshed so commonly associated with the expansion of the untamed rogues hailing from Wild space.

Yet another presumption, that the Primeval were uncivilized. Unbridled? Certainly, but not without manners or sense.

Orkamaat smoothed out an arch of the brow before it crossed over into the realm of what was visible to the human eye, crafting a small, curteous smile to draw the attention away from his forehead instead. The red line bisecting his lip was complemented nicely by the rich burgundy of the heavy robes falling from his shoulders, its color and the patterns lining its hem denoting his station as the priest of Balagoth, the god of that-which-is-not and and that-which-has-yet-to-be.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Gentlepeople," the thin man finally began, taking his seat at the round table in the middle of the spacious room.

"Shall we begin?"