OPERATION: Deadly Feint: TCP Dominion of Kaikelius

[Nova Storyteller]

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[member="Avery Regailis"] [member="Cypher Rage"] [member="Renn Garrick"] [member="Credius Nargath"] [member="Nexus Krae"] [member="Lady Of The Valley"] [member="Elyscia Devaroiux"] [member="Fireson V'Trechen"]​

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Special Guest: [member="Darth Kentarch"]​

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Kaikelius. It was an old world, a founding world of a Republic long shattered and disbanded. Still the delegates and Political Bureaucrats had squabbled and back stabbed for generations. On the Eve of the Worlds new years, they were holding a Social Event. A Masquerade ball, to whom both CIC Sympathetic Politicians as well as Corporate Protectorate backed Politicians were invited.

Seeing an opportunity to expand their Political Clout and annex the system without spilling blood, TCP has seized on the opportunity. Ever the strategists key members of their forces have been ordered to attend, for the purposes of security. Unbeknownst to our would be hero's more than one threat lurks in the shadows.

Those that wear the Masks in the Ballroom beside you have many motives. Some for fame, some for Power and others for puppet masters. This evening in particular the mettle and cunning of the Protectorate will be tested.

Shadowy forces in league with CIC are in attendance, seeking to kill their own Sympathetic Colonial Governors and smear the evidence to say The Protectorate is Responsible. Others are seeking to eliminate High Value Protectorate Officials....

Still the Protectorate Plays their own games....

As the music begins, the Liquor flows and the Dances start, so too does a deadly game of Subterfuge and Feints.

One misstep on your dance number could be deadly....​

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In this deadly game there are many folks who are here to take you. Lure them out, and point them out so that others may deal with them. The quieter and sneakier you are, the better your chance of success. Trust no one but your Comrades....​

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Those that seek to Kill the CIC Officials and Plant the False Flag behind it must be killed first. If they succeed it could spell devastation for the Protectorates Political Standing. Find them and Eliminate the threat. Leave no evidence...​

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In the game the Pawns must be sacrificed for the greater good. Eliminate the Corporate Protectorate Allied Governors. Pin all the Evidence on the CIC Sympathizers. Let no one discover your work....​

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Amidst the Killing floor the deal must eventually be struck. Use your cunning and convince the Governors that Allying with the Corporate Protectorate is best for their Citizens and their Pocketbooks. Take care not to get a Knife in the back....​

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[Credius Nargath]

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Credius Nargath, wielding but simple power as a Quaestor Magistrate within the Corporate Protectorate understood his position and his importance within the faction, but than again, there was nothing to truly holding back his ambitions to rise up within and outside of the faction. His homeworld was quite distant to the politicalintrigue which had crippled the core for so many generations and such a thing granted the Marquis quite a favorable and unique standing amongst his peers within the faction. He had no true political enemies, not a single governor or magistrate was completely privy to his dealings and though his image was that of a man believing in the potential of the Corporate Protectorate, he also begun to embody the faction's major philosophy for better or for worse. Ruthless pragmatism was the name of the game, to see opportunity and to take it, to create an idea which could not be denied without touching upon said defining philosophy.​

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As such, the man did not take any breaks or shortcuts, he played the long game meticulously, carefully crafting his image and maintaining it, but also delivering that which he promised. He had decided to answer the call of the Protectorate for better equipment, for a navy which would emphasize their philosophy, their ambition and in turn, he delivered them something which could cement his own reputation and would enhance that of the Faction who'd get the honors of working with him.​

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Dressed in his finest garb, his family jewel shining bright red upon his chest, his entire figure strengthened with the finest silks and romex, electrum, prometheum and other noble metals, the marquis decided to completely draw all the attention of the attending guests, aiming to make the whole charade of political acumen and maneuvring to gravitate towards him. With a glass held high, he cleared his throat, making himself known to all. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would first like to thank you all for coming at this exquisite gathering, where you all are most likely aiming to create contacts, find betterment for yourself and your fellow men, but first, allow me to introduce myself to those who have yet to know who I am and what I represent," Making a courteous bow, Credius gave everyone a solemn smile, feint and soft, but nonetheless a smile, no matter how sinister it looked, as half of his face was hidden underneath a simple goldthreaded and electrum coated mask with short, luscious silver plumage to run over his entire head. "I am Marquis Credius Arcosius Nargath, owner and president of Nargath Holdings and proprietor of the Eriadu Manufacturing Shipyards. I also represent the Corporate Protectorate as but a humble servant in the form of a Quaestor Magistrate tasked with improving the financial and industrial complex that is currently our own."​

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Letting out a chuckle, the marquis grabbed for a small, electrum-plated pen-like cypher from the breastpocket of his purple romex vest, rasiing said cypher a bit before pushing on the button atop of it, with holographic screens depicting one of the barren moons orbiting the planet of Kaukelius. "To officially promote the work I've been doing and to show you all the benefit of being part of the Corporate Protectorate, I shall now unveil our newest creation..."​

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As soon as he said those words, three ships under the designated Tyrant class, appeared out of hyperspace near the orbiting moon, their sleek appearance shimmering within the light of the stars. They did not look like anything the Corporate Protectorate had been using before and were more akin to the ships of the old galactic empire: sleek, imposing and most importantly not without its fair share of weaponry. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Tyrant-class Missile Cruiser, an eighthundred and fifty meter long cruiser with threehundred sixty omnidirectional missile tubes capable of using concussion, ion, cluster and even high yield missiles. It's capa&ble of bombaring planets without loss of firepower through atmospheric dampening, as is usually the case with any plasma based projectiles used for the same task."​

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Giving a close up on the moon the ships had appeared next to, the image depicted a small mountain range and as it did so, the Marquis simply grinned sinisterly. "Open fire..." The image showed how countless high yield missiles were fired towards the moon, all targeting that single mountain range and after a few moments of tension to see what would happen, a massive explosion took place upon the moon, at which point the image zoomed in again, revealing nothing but a crater where once a proud mountain range had been standing. "Ample proof of the tactical use, the firepower and the precision these ships hold and thanks to heavy automization, they require less personel than the average cruiser. These ships will act as the main planetary protection for this planet during this feast, so enjoy your stay in the knowledge that your safety is secured from up above."​

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[member="Nova Storyteller"]​

 

[Be'iqaronn]

Renn would be sitting, he was listening happy that he had been hired. His ships were ready, his men were trained. This was perfect, his plan was ready and his ship was perfect for it. Currently he was listening intently about the new cruiser, it could be fun to have it in his fleet. Knowing that wouldn’t be he still enjoyed hearing about it, a powerful ship and very powerful with that.

[member="Credius Nargath"] [member="Nova Storyteller"]

 

[Fireson V'Trechen]

Fireson was unhappy to be there, but he was forced to be at a party. He most rather be fighting at some far away planet or training more with Nexus. Fireson really likes to walk 500 miles or more. Fireson looks around to find his friends. He did not see anyone, so he went to the back and ordered his regular, root bear.

[member="Nexus Krae"] @Avery Regilius [member="Renn Garrick"]

 

[Ari Zanareth]

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THE THRONE ROOM​

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[member="Fireson V'Trechen"] [member="Renn Garrick"] [member="Credius Nargath"] [member="Cypher Rage"] [member="Custani Valcho"] [member="Nexus Krae"] [member="Chris Walker"]​

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She was seated to the left of a hefty man named Galbius. Rumor had it from the Office of OPI that Galbius was quite sympathetic to the cause of the Imperials in the Core. Ari smiled and took another sip of wine. She was clad in a dark black Raven mask, matched with a black cloak, red shirt, trousers and dark black boots. Most folks would never know whom the unassuming woman was in this room. She'd even gone so far as to use the force.

The current Illusion she'd cast and wrapped her body in reflected an aging woman, a brunette with dark green eyes. Nevertheless, sh let slip a few clues as to what or whom she might be aligned with.

She carried a single broach upon her shoulder, with the dark black Sigil of the Bird and Lightning bolts. One Predator, three Major Branches.

"Well then Governor Galbius, tell me all about why the Core deserves these Imperial Riff Raff."

Galbius was all too happy to respond.

"The Corporate Protectorate is weak. The Corellians care only about themselves."​

He munched down a chicken leg, spitting food as he talked.

She rolled her eyes behind the mask, wanting very much to draw her Lightsaber and spear him through the chest.

But this was politics and not war. Not yet.

"I still fail to see how their funding can be higher than the Protectorate. After all I heard a little birdie tell me they are running short on credits. The Protectorate on the other hand I've heard has access to a bank and many, many powerful people."

She pointed out Credius, dressed lavish and proper.

"You see that man? I know he's Protectorate for sure."

She leaned in close, letting her lips almost brush his ear.

"And I know he's rich."

The seed was now sown. The others just had to wait, to see whom or what made a move towards Credius.

Of course she was also bait as well, but a more subtle variety.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Atzerri
A few days ago...

"You look rough around the edges, are you sure your in the right place."

Kentarch said nothing to the banker across the counter. Honestly, he was in rough shape. The Sith hadn't showered in... well at least 3 years. His robes were torn and frayed, and what skin was exposed looked like it was caked in soot and dirt. After being packed onto a refugee ship for a few more days, Kentarch could barely tolerate his own body odor.

"Are you a client here for legitimate business? This is a professional institutional." The banker asked.

"My apologies." Kentarch finally said, his tone reflecting how put out he was. "My home was recently destroyed and I was forced to feel Mandalorian space from the encroaching Sith Empire. I have a safety deposit box here."

The banker did not need to know his real story, or the truth. Atzerri had been a bastion of free trade for everything illegal and legal. Years ago Kentarch opened a safety deposit box here in a small bank, in one of the planet's many cities. The bank asked few questions and had no evidence trail, paper or digital. Just a number and a box. A back-up plan in case he lost everything. With his home planet of Ession was slag, he somehow doubted after his long absence his allegiances and position stood. He was in the wind.

"5903.5"

The banker nodded. "Apologies for my manners, I'm sorry for your loss."

The banker led Kentarch into the vault, his safety deposit box was placed on a small metal table. Kentarch waited for the man to leave, double checked for cameras, then he opened safety box. Inside were a few credit chips, a spare lightsaber, and ten aurodium. A few minutes later Kentarch discretely exited the bank, the banker giving a farewell. He wanted out of CIS space as fast as possible.

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Location: Kaikelius
Objective: Assassination


Kentarch stood atop a tower overlooking the city of Kesipli. Below a party of decadence, local politicians and governs indulging themselves in sins of excess while most of their citizens and constituents starved. A perfect reflection for the galaxy as whole. He would have no regrets carrying out this contract. A false flag operation to eliminate governors who were TCP sympathizers. With a lot of credits on the line, it was perfect opportunity to get back in the game.

A stranger among faces, a city of neon lights. The Sith Lord was another masked and cloaked man in sea of masked party goers. Cleaned-up and in a fresh robe. Aside from the targets Kentarch did not want collateral damage. It was bad for business when things got messy. There we so many options. Poison in a cocktail. A quick knife thrust to the throat. A hold-out blaster from a concealed cloak. Accidents weren't good enough, it had to look like a CIC hit. Particularly one carried out by Imperial Intelligence.

As the Sith Lord drew closer to his target. A plan came together.

[member="Fireson V'Trechen"] [member="Renn Garrick"] @Credius @Nargath Cypher [member="Rage"] [member="Custani Valcho"] [member="Nexus Krae"] [member="Chris Walker"] [member="Ari Zanareth"] [member="Nova Storyteller"]

 

[Credius Nargath]

There is no better way to display power than by simply wielding it at the press of a button, at least that was how many people seemed to think. Those who usually thought like that, where generally the typical bunch of fat slobs, sitting around all day, wasting their time on decadent parties like this one and having some weak servants do their bidding. Despite his own looks which gave a fine display of wealth and opulence, Credius was far from being a fat pig like most of those so-called politians, he was a man with a goal, a dedication to his art, his name and his desires. However, despite not being one of them, he did play their game better than most, displaying the power of his ships was but a mere taste, yet a taste which would and could send shivers down those politians' spines. For he now acknowledged that he was the one in command of the very ships securing the planet's safety and with a single push of a button, he could eradicate them all if need be.

"The Corporate Protectorate thanks all of you graceously with your attendance," The Marquis made a graceous bow towards the people in front of him, after which he raised his glass. "A toast to a better tomorrow, a toast to your patronage and your support for our faction."

With that said, Credius took a swig of his beverage and took a few steps down the stairs to talk with those who either wanted to talk about the display of his newest ships or simply to curry some sort of favor with him. Surrounded by the very slobs he despised, the Marquis started talking with a gentle smile on his face, kissing one woman's hand with the grace of a born politician, a nobleman beyond reproach.

[member="Ari Zanareth"]