Perfect Judgment

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Location: The Chancellor's Study - Imperial Palace, Federal District​

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"And you're certain it was him?"

Tanomas' voice echoed off of the soundproofed walls, the man bringing his hand up to partake in a quick puff of a cigar, the smoke escaping from his mouth a second later. The man sitting before him in a deep blue suit was none other than his close friend, Travis Caalgen, the decorated engineer and hidden commissar. Caalgen nodded slightly, his lips parting, "As certain as can be, I verified the intel as best as I could without letting the monkey-lizard out of the bag." He responded, "The ongoing breakout at the Tython black site further confirms my suspicions, Kalast would believe the same if he knew."

The high chancellor paused for a moment, staring at the carpeted floor as he drifted into thought. "Bring Kalast into the fold, he has as much of a right to know as I do. We're going to need every uncompromised asset of the ISB for this one." Graf commanded, eyes darting upwards to meet Caalgen's, "Inform Cardan as well, see if we can't deny the Malice as an asset for them." The weapons director nodded slowly, rising from a comfortable-looking armchair and buttoning his jacket, moving to the room's exit before stopping just sort of the handle.

"And what if the Red Lion is involved?"

Caalgen turned, locking eyes with his superior once more, a twinge of regret evident in his pupils. "If he is, then we will have to act, I will not tolerate power plays in my government any longer." The dictator uttered quickly, Caalgen opening the door and departing.

Tanomas let out a deep sigh, a callused hand moving upwards to massage his temple; at any rate, sometimes he wished he was able to get intoxicated. His gaze moved to affix on an object at the other side of the room, his 'protocol' droid standing by idly, awaiting its master's orders.

"HK, prepare my speeder. I will be leaving for the gala soon enough."

Objectives:

1. 
   Food, Booze, and Music - A gala is being held at the Imperial Palace to celebrate the downfall of the New Republic after the Confederation declared war on it. The upper echelons of both the military and the government are attending, as well as the recognized few. The High Chancellor has stressed that this is a semi-formal event, so keep the fighting in the landing pads.
   
2. 
   Unleashed - Military forces are being deployed to the Silent Desert of Tython; the location of a deadly prison breakout at an infamous ISB prison - Blackstorm Corrective Labour Camp. Elements of the Imperial Army, Stormtrooper Corps, and Commissariat have been mobilized to deal with the entirely force-sensitive populace.
   

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Private First Class ST-00/0666, “Beast”
Post 1
Objective II, Unleashed
Equipment: Mk. IX Katarn-Class Battle Armor w/ JT-12 Jetpack, Electrified Grappling Hook, VB-113 “Tidefall” Class Vibroblade, K-22/02 “Lance” Mass Driver Rifle, 2 Sonic Grenades
Location: Silent Desert - Approaching Blackstorm Corrective Labour Camp, Tython
[member="Tanomas Graf"]

Under normal operating conditions, the noise produced by a squadron of LAAVs would be nigh-deafening to the ears. The shuttle’s screaming ion engines were typically loud enough to instill a sense of fear into the hearts of whoever sought to oppose its advance. For that reason and yet more, the heavily-armed shuttles were perfect for rapid atmospheric insertions into hostile territory. However, the quiet desert had managed to deprive the formidable vessel of a singular psychological advantage, while also adding an arguable disadvantage of the same nature.

Nevertheless, Beast maintained a steady veneer of stoicism over her pale features. The brutal and demanding ARC training program she had underwent had seen to it to vastly reduce the effectiveness of psychological warfare on the trainees. However, even Beast could not help but to feel somewhat unsettled by the deafening silence all around her. She recalled from the pre-mission briefing that the silence was an inherent feature of the wasteland due to a mysterious quality in the sand. But, she didn’t anticipate that it would be as quiet as it was 20,000 meters above sea level and descending. If the prison escapees had performed some sort of mystical ritual to amplify the potency of the desert’s quieting effects, it was a detail that had not been mentioned in the briefing. Fortunately, the desert’s silence would in all likelihood make a stealthy insertion far easier than it would have been otherwise.

As the squadron of shuttles descended closer to the ground, Beast stood up from her seat within the troop compartment and grabbed a handhold just above her in anticipation for landfall. The few ARC and standard stormtroopers around her did so as well. It didn’t take much longer for the shuttle to come to complete stop. The doors immediately slid open to reveal the dreary-looking courtyard of the prison. With a group of thirty-nine other stormtroopers by her side and more on the way, Beast hopped down from the shuttle and sprinted towards the perimeter of the courtyard as the point teams prepared to break down the doors into the prison itself. In an ironic display of creativity, the prisoners had decided to fortify the prison itself in preparation for a siege. The blaster turrets and weapon emplacements had been disabled or commandeered for usage by the prisoners at the facility. Fortunately, the initial landing team had not yet come under fire or made hostile contact. However, her armor’s sensors were actively pinging one foreign contact after the next. It wouldn’t be long until the first shots were fired.

There would be nothing but eerie silence in the hot desert air as the stormtroopers awaited first contact...

 

[Kier Grey]

Kyle Whir
Coruscant, Level 5127, Federal District, Imperial Palace
Tags: [member="Tanomas Graf"]

"Kyle Whir" that's what they called her when she donned the armour of a Coruscant Security Force Officer, a protective identity to safeguard not just their privacy and person from prying eyes but also reprisals from enemies of the state. There was a Gala to be hosted this evening where important members of the private sector, representatives from nearby Colonies would also allegedly be in attendance in addition to notable figures from Parliament and the numerous civil service agencies including the military.

Armed with a short flute-barreled DC-15A Kyle stalked through the Imperial Palace's halls with a disturbingly obvious familiarity which contrasted heavily to the hapless invitees who would make it their home for but a solitary evening. Sergeant Whir's outward confidence in their movements through the Palace's many halls and dining rooms was sufficient enough that the occasional reveler came to conclude that every Coruscant Security Force Officer present were so acquainted. A few of the lower levels had been opened to the Palace's guests though Kyle in truth possessed bio-metric access to more than what was temporarily provided to the interlopers.

Two hours passed since the first guest rolled through the door and Kyle opened a comm channel with a Senior Security Officer on team Besh who had busied themselves patrolling the edges of property. "Artario, I'm going to take my break now. I'll still be on premises if you need to contact me." Their voice even over the secure encrypted network possessed an omnipresent droid-like clanging quality due to a vocal distorter and emulator constructed into the powersuit's helmet. Another five minutes pass and Kyle reached down to an antiquated brass handle and gently pushes it down towards the beautifully polished oak floorboards.

Calmly sliding their weapon into a thigh holster Kyle's pursed lips tugged into a subtle smirk behind their helmets face-plate and permitted gloved palm to slide along a earth-coloured hardwood dining table just before entering an utterly vacant silent kitchen perched high in the Palace's structure. Strolling leisurely towards a refrigeration unit and lazily plucked a plastoid two liter container from its' shelves offering a gentle tap of a metallic heel throwing its' door closed. The hermetic seal around Kyle's nap released its' tight oppressive pressure with a hiss permitting the sliding of helmet clear of head leaving a neat short dark brown nigh black snake drooping from the back of head; their hair always neat brushed and presentable.

Hazel eyes paused for a moment and leered around the utterly empty and dark chancellery residence suspiciously to ensure there would be not witnesses to a crime against decorum that would shortly follow, once satisfied the room was absent other living souls Kyle lifted the pleasantly cold two-liter flavoured milk container effortlessly in left-hand upto lips and eagerly quenched a thirst for the liquid with its' content gulped down with a loud violence by throat absent any notion of proprietary that their parental figure might have insisted upon in the form of a glass at the very least.

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter

Location: Coruscant, Imperial Palace
Status: Nervous
Interacting With: ???
Objective One
Dress
__________ __________ __________ __________ __________

Varian was nervous as he should be. He was walking into foreign territory, he was walking into a place of high prestige and imperial might. He didn't have his armor to protect him, there was no metal mask of s helmet to cover his face from all to see, to hide his identity from those who would try and harm him. Alaric has no weapons on his person save for his own physical body, no guns, no blasters, nothing. He was defenseless save for his abilities in close-quarters, however, even then, he didn't have much in regards to protect himself. He had experienced such a thing beforehand back when he was under the employment of the First Order, it was on a booze cruise of some sort. In those days, his life was calm and orderly, he was not being hunted down by the First Order and he had friends everywhere. He had Marr who he saw as his own sister, yet now she wished he was dead. And then...and then there was Varas, someone whom he had once loved. Now, however, he wished he had nothing to do with her. All of her karking depravity, her stupidity and 'kindness' all of which was just used to screw him over in the end. He wished nothing on her, save for a hope of a slow death for her by him...she deserved such a karking thing after all. He had trusted her and loved her unlike anyone else in his life...and such a thing was stupidity.

The young, brown-haired man walked down an extravagant corridor. At one statues lined the wall to his left, showing figures holding what appeared to be swords or crossguard lightsabers within their grip, pointed downwards towards the ground as though they were guardians of some sort. To Alaric's right lied oval-shaped windows which overlooked the mass area of the Coruscanti Diplomatic Sector, the golden light given off by the sun casting rays of sunlight as they streaked across buildings and through the openings between buildings. It gave the view from the windows a picturesque appearance, as though it were some grand painting from an age long since past to tell a story, an old story.

Varian's right hand flew to his neck, adjusting the knot of his onyx-colored tie as he made his way into the ball room. He took his first few steps into the gala, his blue eyes looking at his surroundings as he moved further inside of the room. He was here now, and he would face whatever came his way.

 

[Shran]

Location: Penthouse/Imperial Palace
Mood: Annoyed
Objective: 1

Shran walked slowly around his elaborate penthouse. It was no secret that holding a cushy office in the Imperial cabinet had its benefits but the age old adage "money can't buy happiness" was all too true. He walked over to the large window in his living room and gazed out at the bustling city. Hover cars painted the sky, weaving the skyscrapers together in an elaborate lattice. Perhaps he was biased but this was probably the most beautiful city in the whole galaxy and more than that, it was humbling. It was humbling to stand amid grounds that were once the epicenter of some of the most important events of galactic history. However, it was an empty pleasure since he had no one to share the experience. He sighed to himself, keeping his gaze on those hover cars.

After several minutes, he turned and walked over to the full bar located at the far side of the living room. Shran was clothed only in an undershirt and shorts as he strolled across to the bar. Once there, he poured himself a Bloody Rancor. He took a sip before opening a drawer behind the bar and pulled out a bag of crushed Death Stick powder. Shran opened the bag and dumped some of the powder onto the bar. He took one of his credits and propped the powder into a line. Without hesitation, Shran leaned down and snorted the powder which elicited a heavy cough. His eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a groan, letting the feeling sink in. He would never admit it but his addiction was getting worse over time. But he saw no alternative. Shran felt like a prisoner in his own skin sometimes. Just then, his gold plated protocol droid walked into the living room.

"Master! You should be getting dressed, you have a gala to attend. Chancellor Graff will surely be expecting you."

Another blasted gala. There were so many galas and dinners and whatever. Shran wiped his nose a bit, sniffling before speaking in a slightly inebriated voice. "And what if he is? I'll show up when I show up. I've given my life to the CIC. I am a loyal servant of Graff's blasted empire!"

"Master, raising your voice at me will do little to rectify the situation in which you are in. In addition, in your current condition, elevating your heart rate could prove dangerous. I must ask you to please calm down and start getting dressed."

Shran huffed before taking the rest of the powder in front of him, and rolling it into a slip of paper until it was in a tightly sealed cylinder shape. Once that was done, he tucked the cylinder behind his ear and proceeded to his room where he began to put on his dress uniform. Some time passed before he was dressed. Once he was, he took the rolled up death stick powder and placed it in a pocket for later then headed out. By this point, his droid already had Shran's speeder running. He climbed into the passenger side and buckled in for the ride. Halfway through the ride, Shran's droid turned to him, "Master, I have noticed a gradual increase in your consumption of Death Sticks or Death Stick byproducts. Your safety and well being are part of my primary programming so I must ask that you please cease these destructive behaviors."

"Stop the only thing keeping me sane? No thanks." Almost as if to spite the droid, Shran pulled out the rolled up Death Stick powder and placed it in his mouth, taking out a lighter and lit the end of it. He laid his head back and took a rather large pull, blowing out a thick, rancid smelling cloud of near black smoke. The rest of the ride was marked with a slightly awkward silence. After some time, the Minister's speeder pulled up at the imperial palace. Upon exiting, Shran was greeted by his guards that had arrived at the event ahead of him.

"Let's do this." He took one more hit before dropping the Death Stick roll onto the floor, putting it out under his boot.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Objective: 1
Location: Imperial Palace
Attire:

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Spoiler: Formal Dress

The dark expression of Pixie Commander Cynthia almost seemed to effect the poor escorts that followed either side of the angry little TIE Pilot. TIE Pilot Instructor Cyn corrected herself mentally, the sheer weight that had been taken off her shoulders not only felt liberating but the young Instructor was sure she even grew a few inches. Why else did I need to go to the tailors for new clothing this month? Cyn had nearly forgone any chance of growing taller and even accepted her diminutive stature.

While within the cockpit of a TIE Interceptor, it certainly allowed Cyn plenty of breathing room to adjust and maneuver herself. She was one of the few that never felt claustrophobic within any of the TIEs and with the added benefit of being one of the few to always wear ones Flight Suit, Cyn proved herself well with training at the Academy. Truthfully she had worn her flight-suit nearly as a second-skin do to the boots possessing a thicker sole than her normal military uniform garb. Of course, though with my current attire, it won't seem I've gained height with the ever looming dread of possibly dying on my next sortie finally no longer weighing my shoulders down.

Cyn's mood had not been improved by the invitation of the gala mostly due to the fact her normal formal wear had been 'accidentally' lost and that something had been magically ordered in her exact size. Such event that her Aide and Squadron Captain commentated sounded not only unbelievable but had the gall to call it a miracle of the galaxy. Cyn on the other hand suspected foul play, the hands of fate clearly been manipulated but she couldn't directly punish neither her Aide or Captain. Of course not as though I will allow them much peace in these next few weeks.

Continued steps forward, the Imperial Palace glowed with celebratory lights, the slowly the noise of crowds grew with multiple large groups of both military and political members alike all sharing stories and jokes. This celebration, the victory over the New Republic had been rather anti-climatic to the say least and otherwise embarrassing for the Republic at the worst. Cyn herself nearly punched through her door when she had returned to her room after she had bore witness to the Core Imperium's declaration of War.

"Perhaps I can out run the devil," Cyn muttered, her gloved hand moving her facial muscles a tad, possibly attempting to remove the scowl she had worn the entire time climbing up to the Palace, "-helps of course if the Devil trips on his own tail of course."

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter

Location: Coruscant, Imperial Palace
Status: Nervous
Interacting With: [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Objective One
Dress
__________ __________ __________ __________ __________

The grand room was filled with all sorts of individuals, ranging from politicians to military commanders and to corporate officials who had aligned themselves with the Core Imperial Confederation. They all dressed the same, in formal clothing befitting of a charity ball, suits and tie, long and short dresses. All of them made up an array of monotonous neutral colors, grey's and blacks with a few more vivid colors mixed in as well to offer variation among the groups of prestigious and well-versed persons who were attending the gala. Varian found himself part of such a group, and yet separate from them as well at the same time. Physically, he looked to be part of the invitees. He had the black suit, and a black tie and shirt, making him appear as though he was an important official of some sort. However, he himself felt out-of-place at the gala, Alaric felt as though he did not belong here, in this place, with all of these people. The former Knight of Ren felt singled out, even with the pills for his paranoia taken, he felt paranoid just from being in here for a few seconds.

He needed to get out and get a breath of fresh air.

Varian turned around, his ocean blue spheres distracted with looking around at the people in the room with him. He didn't know why he had make himself come to this place, to this gala, when he very well disliked such things. He had never enjoyed such things, he had never enjoyed such extravagant displays of wealth or dances...especially since his budding romance with Varas had been quenched and drowned without a second thought from that woman. It reminded him of her and he wanted to be rid of any memory of her.

Making his way to the door, Alaric walked through it and stumbled into somebody whom he hadn't seen.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Miss."

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Private First Class ST-00/0666, “Beast”
Post 2
Objective II, Unleashed
Equipment: Mk. IX Katarn-Class Battle Armor w/ JT-12 Jetpack, Electrified Grappling Hook, VB-113 “Tidefall” Class Vibroblade, K-22/02 “Lance” Mass Driver Rifle, 2 Sonic Grenades
Location: Courtyard - Blackstorm Corrective Labour Camp, Tython

There had been complete and utter silence, up until the point when the second LAAV suddenly went spinning in the air after the pilot was shot through the skull by a hidden sniper. The pilot’s head fell slammed on the controls as the co-pilot sought to desperately remove his body and regain control of the craft. However, her efforts were futile and the shuttle quickly careened towards the surface of the courtyard in an unmanageable spin. As the shuttle crashed against the ground, it crushed a dozen or more stormtroopers beneath its mass, before suddenly catching fire. From there the operation descended into chaos as the prisoners hiding behind the windows that looked out to the courtyard opened fire on the group of stormtroopers.

Beast had only bared managed to leap out of the way of the crashing shuttle in order to avoid being crushed beneath it, but most of those around her had not been so lucky. Amidst the chaos, she spotted a trooper who had their legs crushed by a thick durasteel panel, which looked to weigh more than a thousand pounds. Beast sprinted towards the gravely injured trooper, crouched down, and attempted to lift the mass off of the soldier. However, in spite of her ARC certification, she was no Death Trooper and the object simply refused to budge. She was forced to stop when she was shot in the torso by three blaster bolts, spurring her to take cover behind a piece of flaming wreckage while she waited for her deflector shields to recharge.

“Leave me behind!” The stormtrooper screamed, as he weakly pointed to one of the anti-air turrets which had emerged from the roof of the building. Beast followed the gesture and immediately planted her mass driver rifle on a nearby pillar for support before taking aim at the turret. With a single squeeze of the trigger, a high-caliber projectile moving at many times the speed of sound discharged itself from the barrel and sped towards the turret. The slug impacted with the target and unleashed a baradium fueled explosion, which was enough to briefly disable the heavily-armored turret. For good measure, Beast slammed another slug into her rifle and fired at the turret again in order to completely silence the turret, hopefully allowing for more troops to safely land in the prison.

As her shields recharged, Beast fired another shot at one of the prison rioters behind a window which had been damaged in the crash. The massive slug hit her target with so much force that it simply vaporized the head and neck of her primary target before striking the chest of an unfortunate rioter who had decided to move behind the now decapitated man at just the right moment in time.

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Location: Tython, Silent Desert
Objective: 2. Unleashed
Interacting with: [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
Armour

Eerie silence was nothing unusual, Seto often mediated within chambers designed for sensory deprivation and even more so he found calm and quiet days rather relaxing. Especially when a certain a sibling also tired herself out with adventures and simply laze around with him at their mansion. Silence and what it usually accompanied with such as self reflection and one’s own inner thoughts or demons, was nothing special to the young Du Couteau heir.

The Silent Desert was not just namesake, but something entirely different. Entirely different.

Seto had never experienced such deafness before, their speeder’s repulser lifts could not be heard no the breathes of anyone onboard the speeder. Even the foot tapping, and Seto knew his foot was tapping, he could feel the muscles required to lift his foot and hit the steel plate beneath. How ever did this place come to existence. Seto’s thoughts of the matter only continued to fill with more questions of how such strange phenomenon was possible and the only thing he could really answer to himself was with:

“The Force.”

Of course no sound escaped his lips, only the movement of his lips indicated that he attempted to say anything to the rest of the passengers onboard. Fortunately for Seto, the connection to the Force was not severed so his sister’s presence was not lost despite the quiet nature that had taken over everyone that dared entered the desert. Seto turned his attention to his sister and waved his hand in front of her to grab Marr’s attention.

We will need to suffer this until we reach the underground Temple. Once we get off the Speeder follow me.

The dunes of sand, even the large stone like structures that resembled something akin to ancient Titans, all of it was vast and if it had not been for their successful attempts to track down one of the maps from their previous missions on Tython, their search would have been futile for the great underground Temple constructed by a Tho Yor of the Je’daii Order. The shifting sands though continued to make the desert difficult to map from the surface as it was unbearable without extreme weather protection from the heat and high wind speeds.

The speeder slowed, but the only indication was that Seto saw the dunes no longer passing by and by the lights alerting all those within the speeder to jump out. With a gently pat on Marr’s shoulder, Seto offered a wink for encouragement before placing on his helmet. Waiting for the conformation of his HUD that his armour was sealed, he jumped out of the speeder and felt himself land as his body lowered itself through the sand a tad.

The map indicated a door should be nearby, activated through the Force, so let us comb the deserts.

Seto expanded his reach with the Force, his senses swept beneath through the sands.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Objective: 1
Location: Imperial Palace
Attire:

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Trustful of her momentary reprieve of being forced to offer a warm and inviting smile, Cyn closed her eyes and rubbed her temple to chase away the ghosting headaches. Her annoyances of tonight where few to be sure, but such were they all compounded against one another that Cyn simply urged the hours to proceed as quick as her TIE Interceptor chasing after a poor Republic bomber. Murderous intent and all, the chilling chuckle Cyn accidentally allowed to slip made both of her escorts stagger slightly unsure of what to really make of their Commander.

This proved rather fatal to their potential careers as a man taller than Cyn collided and for the briefest moment Cyn was shocked. Utterly confused about the situation she instinctively reached for her blaster and combat knife as if under threat of an attack. It wasn't until that neither hand gripped on either the hilt of her blaster pistol or knife handle that she realized she was at a Gala. With quick steps back, Cyn brushed her skirt down and patted her shoulders and arms in a way to make sure she simply didn't take a swing at the man that dared crash into her as she attempted to get into the Gala.

Gentle and calm words, remember to smile and not make a scene. It would do her no good if hundreds of politicians and other officers saw the great Pixie Ace loose herself at a Gala and attack someone for an accident. At least, not publicly attack with physical attempts with her fists. With a quick take of air and her senses no longer frazzled she looked up and met eyes with the man that bumped into her so rudely.

"It is-" Cyn gritted her teeth, her shoulders tensed before after taking another breath, she relaxed inwardly and nodded once. "-It is of no concern, accidents happen." She explained, hopping to quickly get past this apology.

[member="Varian Alaric"]

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Marriskcal Lati,
House Du Couteau
Objective: #2; Unleashed
Location: Silent Desert, Tython
Interacting with: [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

Ever inquisitive and always seeking for adventures, said sibling of one Seto Du Couteau was poised on her knees, her gauntleted fingers closed around the back of her seat as she stared out of the transparisteel windows. Even through the clouds of sand and dust that plumed and trailed after the sleek vessel, she could still glimpse the silhouettes of the sand sculptures far into the distance.

The all-pervasive silence that reigned in the wastelands of Tython was soothing, though when they had first entered the Silent Desert, the young woman was wary of having one of her senses so limited. But with her Force presence burning brightly, and her connection to Seto as keen as ever, what little worries she held in her heart swiftly dissipated.

Discerning a movement from the corner of her vision, Marriskcal turned her gaze from the blue and white and beige view of their surroundings, her blue eyes blinking as it once again familiarised itself to the dimmer interior of the speeder. ‘It’s a little strange not to be able to converse as we usually do, but it’s no hardship either… And if it makes you feel a little more reassured though, I’ll stay close to your side~’ The blonde tilted her head curiously as she looked down to where her brother was seated, ‘But... why do you sound so formal even in your thoughts?’

The slowing of the vessel and the touch vibrating across the shoulder of her armour saw the young woman getting off her perch with a hop and skip. With a graceful sweep of an arm, Marriskcal picked up the helmet and placed it over her own head, a hand slipping through the opening to compress the messy updo she had bound her hair in before she sealed the entirety of the armour.

Shadowing her brother, the blonde leapt after him, using the Force to mitigate the impact of her landing. She unfolded from her crouch swiftly, her presence slowly expanding to envelop their immediate vicinity just in case there were any hidden enemies or dangerous creatures lurking closeby even as her brother focused on locating the entrance to the underground sanctum.

‘All clear.’

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter

Location: Coruscant, Imperial Palace
Status: Apologetic
Interacting With: [member="Cynthai Alucard"]
Objective One
Dress
__________ __________ __________ __________ __________

Varian took a few quick steps backwards as to try and avoid physical confrontation. Not because he couldn't defend himself, he was perfectly physically capable of doing so, though with his mind a mess he didn't trust himself in doing so. The man didn't want to make a scene as well in such a public place, especially considering that his employer, Har'xa Escala, could cut funding to him and could fire him after a public incident that could have erupted from just a simple accident such as this. His blue eyes tried to meet those eyes eyes of the woman whom he had walked into, trying to say that he was sorry without words. He had already apologized to her, yet he felt as though she, whoever she was, did not accept it. Despite cutting himself off from the force, Alaric had lingering senses of what people thought and believed about him. It was random and did not happen often, however he felt annoyance emitting from the blonde-haired woman.

He assumed that she was more than likely annoyed at him walking into her more than anything else. And then their was her statement. The pause in what she was saying was what had tipped Alaric off to her annoyance and displeasure, her restraint. Though he couldn't accurately read the woman's body language, her voice alone and the pauses she took were more than enough to tell him about what she thought of the whole situation.

Instead of pushing the issue and pushing his apology, Varian decided to opt for something to else to try and make amends between the two of them. A handshake, it was a simple gesture and a friendly one to try and make amends of course, that was the purpose of a handshake, amends and new beginnings.

"I'm sorry, let us start over. I go by Varian, and you are, miss...?" Varian spoke with genuine interest, extending out a open-palm in the gesture of shaking hands.

 

[Shran]

Location: Imperial Palace
Status: Under the influence
Objective: 1
Tags: Any other Obj. 1

It was times like these that Shran was glad that his physical appearance lacked pupils unlike most other humanoid species because if he had them, they would most certainly be dilated. The redness within his eyes covered up what would have been obvious signs of being bloodshot. All that remained was being able to keep himself as coherent as possible throughout the event, which would be a cake walk for him. The minister made his way over to the bar, ordering himself a glass of Alderaanian wine before finding an empty table to sit at as he began to study the room.

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Location: Tython, Silent Desert
Objective: 2. Unleashed
Interacting with: [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
Armour

The slow beating of his heart provided rhythm unheard but not unfelt by Seto, his hands outstretched and his whole focus on discovering this entrance into the underground labyrinth. His certainty and calm was only present due to Marr’s calm and assured Force presence, Seto held no doubts that he was amidst no enemies if Marr declared the area clear. Seto doubled his efforts with his search, continuing to let himself fall deeper to the waves of the living Force and pulling strength to wield such tool granted to him with further mastery.

Minutes passed as the sands shifted and Seto’s concentration grew, his hands outstretched and more sand shifted and swayed with nearly every breathe Seto took, but no sounded permuted from all his efforts through the Force. Whichever Force spell afflicted the great sands with such mysterious and powerful ability of complete silence, it certainly was not something Seto could ever hope to dismantle or reverse.

Suddenly more of the sand shifted but instead forming into another dune, an exact replica of the countless of other dunes around the two, it appeared to fall deeper as if finally founding a crack and spilling down into somewhere empty. The cavern found below them and Seto took no pause to expand the entrance to allow enough room for the duo siblings to traverse through.

Though much unlike the near perfect geometric shape of the large temple doors found on Chandrila, and the somewhat ease of moving the doors to open, entering the caverns below was more akin to ripping open past an extremely thorny shrubbery. Seto thankful for the temperature controlled suit, his body enjoying the constant cooling fans of it, he turned over to Marr and waved at her to follow.

Sand continued to pour downwards, falling deep below to the cavern floors and Seto followed the same trajectory of the sand. Down, down and down Seto fell but appeared much like a feather gently coasting to the rocky bottom floor. With a soft thud, giving purpose to his armor once more, Seto gently tapped the side of his helmet and the sound of the tab garnered a sigh of relief from the Du Couteau heir.

Pressing the release latch, Seto removed his helmet and gently rubbed his head to feel and hear the sound of it all as an enjoyable smile stretched across his lips. Such strangeness our galaxy forces upon us to struggle through. . .

“The Temple should be further ahead of us,” Seto called out to his sister, “-Pray tell we find what we’re looking for and forever leave this eerie place of desolate quietness.” Seto added his somewhat discomfort with the Silent Desert. Somewhat indeed.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Objective: 1
Location: Imperial Palace
Interacting: [member="Varian Alaric"]
Attire:

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Cyn continued to brush down the sides of her dress with both hands, the fear of violent outlash had not entirely subsided unfortunately for those around her. Perhaps it was good reason to stick me inside a TIE Interceptor. The young Pixie Commander and Instructor inhaled deeply and nodded once more to the man’s apology. With near bone breaking will power, Cyn accepted the hand with her own smaller but firm grip for a simple quick shake.

She quickly released his hand, again her fear of digging into the offender’s skin was not far fetched in her mind. Calm now, at least look calm. The Imperial Palace held plenty of onlookers and bystanders of all manner of rank and position. I only need one of them to make a report to my superiors. Cyn reminded herself yet again of her instability to continue with her somewhat lofty position of Academy Instructor and Consult.

I’m sorry? “-As I said before, no worries. . . Mister Varian.” Cyn responded curtly, her hands slowly intertwined with one another behind her back, “-And I am Instructor Alucard,” Cyn introduced herself with her softer title first. I can’t just say Wing Commander or else some might assume I’m being to haughty for position, or worse. . .assume I miss the action of the stars with the rest of my active duty pilots.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Marriskcal Lati,
House Du Couteau
Objective: #2; Unleashed
Location: Ancient Jedi Temple, Silent Desert, Tython
Interacting with: [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

Marriskcal waited a small distance away, her head tilted in curiousity as her brother’s presence ebbed and flowed before him. While the world continued to remain silent, the young woman could feel the calmblue of his aura descending deep beneath them as it sought for the entrance to the sanctum buried by wind and time.

A faint smile found its way to her lips when the pale sands began to shift and move, siphoning and vanishing in a funnel as the passageway revealed itself to the sibling pair. Raising a smart and jaunty salute at Seto when he gestured for her to shadow him, the blonde took a few extravagant steps with the tips of her toes high into the air as she made her way to the edge. With the sand continuing its cascade into the fissure, Marriskcal seated herself on the surface and allowed the desert stream to catch her in its wake and for gravity to take ahold of her form.

Down she tumbled, like Alice into a rabbit’s hole.

But unlike her, Marriskcal landed gracefully on her feet in an immense and murky cavern.

With a skip and hop to lessen the impact, the blonde bounded away from the rising dune and the continuous torrent of silver, a hand coming up to sweep away any remaining sand from her frame. But unlike her brother, Marriskcal has always been comfortable encased behind a mask of anonymity, so the young woman chose not to unseal her armour and detach her helmet. Even then, behind the faceplate, she pouted to herself, for she was still faintly affected by the silence and she could not even pinch her nose shut and attempt to clear her ears.

She was in the midst of affecting a yawn and swallowing in sequence when Seto’s voice pierced through the otherworldly calm of their surroundings. “I wonder if they have left any holocrons and other interesting trinkets behind?” she pondered out loud, a pleased grin curving on lips when her ears finally cleared and the humming ceased. “But I definitely hope that we will not encounter any artefacts that may pose a danger to ourselves.”

With her senses flowing around them like a gentle ripple, the blonde took point, leaving her brother to cover her back as she followed the lament of a sanctum long forgotten. She had briefly studied the history of Tython and its origins in inspiring the foundations of the Je’daii Order before they found themselves planetside. “If I am not remiss, you mentioned that it dates back to Tho Yor? But did your research mention why did they abandon their sanctum?”

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Location: Tython, Silent Desert, Underground Temple
Objective: 2. Unleashed
Interacting with: [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
Armour

Seto gently rubbed both his ears, the sound his hands made and feeling that they were working brought upon another relief, and with his sister’s true voice spoken out loud it allowed Seto to take a deep breath. Questions were raised though of the history of the planet, and perhaps its most mysterious subject matter the Tho Yor. Seto followed Marr as she led them both to the Temple buried beneath the Silent Desert.

“It is unclear why the caretakers of the Temple left, the Tho Yor was suppose to be a place of both pride and enlightenment for the first Jedi of our galaxy.” Seto pondered himself on the reasons why, as the Civil War of Tython was what Seto felt as eons ago but here the two of them were, witnessing a sort of living history.

The underground caverns offered no natural light, such as translucent bacteria or plant life that Seto had usually come to expect from dark underground caverns leading to sacred Temples. I'm thinking like Marr with all those holo-movies of adventures of exciting temples. With their armour’s flashlights, Seto felt more confident with his footing and slightly thankful to solely rely on his Force sight.

“Apparently due to the unique nature of the desert above them, it allowed many of the ancient order to enjoy a rather undisturbed mediation area,” Seto added with slight unbelief, he had once given Marr a stern talking when she had accidentally messed with Mansion’s temperature control unit and suddenly made his mediation chambers slightly too warm. And do the same above in that heat and wind?

“-But because of that reason, I found that they had quite a stash of kyber crystals and with the Silent Desert above them, it allowed for students to construct their sabers with relative peace and with dedicated focus.” Seto further explained,while he would not object to picking up a few holocrons or other data-slates, they were here to collect those Kyber crystals for their students back on Coruscant.

If Seto had actually followed through with the initial request of being sent to monitor the prison for Force Users perhaps he would have been prepared for the escapees attempting to hide themselves within the great expanse of the Silent Desert and the vastness of caverns. Perhaps many figured that they could find some reprieve with the confusing network of caves and the Temple beneath the sands.

Seto looked around, the Temple steps leading to the entrance all appeared worn from age, but sturdy all the same, perhaps the years weren’t kind to the Temple’s appearance but it remained solidly built. His eyes returned back to Marr, “Imagine constructing your first saber above out there?” Seto asked with a bemused look.

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter

Location: Coruscant, Imperial Palace
Status: Apologetic
Interacting With: [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Objective One
Dress
__________ __________ __________ __________ __________

"Ah I apologize, Instructor Alucard," Varian emphasized her title, apologizing for disrespecting her military rank and title. He had never meant to do such a thing, it had been on accident. "So, what brings you to this gala tonight, Instructor Alucard." Varian mused aloud, trying to start conversation of some sort.

Ever since Varas, the former Knight of Ren had become...awkward around people. His once fledgling and newfound sociable, outgoing personality had become tarnished with the departure of the woman whom he had loved. She had helped him inadvertently be more daring and more confident in whatever he did. Now with her gone, he didn't have her presence near him to keep him company and to encourage him to take more chances. He was now just his old self, quiet and socially awkward without any true idea as to what to do. Varian supposed he was better now than he had been previously, though the signs and mannerisms were still around within his being once more. Much to his own dismay. His more awkward nature coupled with that of his paranoia was a recipe for disaster, at least, it would be one day.

He wanted to at the very least, try to talk to somebody. He needed to put himself out there again, out among people again instead of being quiet and all on his lonesome as he had been within previous months. For all that the First Order did bad, it had given him a home, friends, a family away from home. Now, now he had nothing anymore. He had accidentally walked into this Alucard, perhaps the two of them could converse and talk. At least then he would be able to reach out to others.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Objective: 1
Location: Imperial Palace
Interacting: [member="Varian Alaric"]
Attire:

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Spoiler: Formal Dress

Cyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitched again but refrained from turning into a grimace at yet another apology. The situation was overblown no doubt, but yet Cyn thoroughly felt uneasy about the entire situation, as for the most part she had the luxury of people moving out of the way and mumbling their apologies long after Cyn continued to walk past them. But instead here someone actually was to attempt conversation with me?

Already the few passing seconds that normally took for small "Hello's" and "Goodbye's" had past and now she stood in a mixture or perhaps more accurately the murky grey ground of two people in a slightly awkward conversation and situation.

"As I said before, no worriers Mister Varian, no apologies needed." Cyn smiled, her cheeks forcing her lips to part slightly to show a dazzling set of teeth, but her tone betrayed her appearance and sounded perhaps too contrived.

Cyn nodded once at the following question, and slightly gestured with both her hands around, "-Any other reason you might hear from others attending, I'm afraid I'm just here to fulfill my obligations and show I am ready for the political world." Cyn responded, her mind escaped back to her past as she remembered how angry she had been when it was known to her she had to attend the Gala.

I wish I could just leave. Even the prospect of the never ending data-slate work did not weigh heavily in favor of her staying either.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Marriskcal Lati,
House Du Couteau
Objective: #2; Unleashed
Location: Ancient Jedi Temple, Silent Desert, Tython
Interacting with: [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

And the mystery deepens–

“How exciting! I hope we will be the ones to find out why~”

Marriskcal has always enjoyed learning about the galaxy even when she was a mere youngling. For someone who had nowhere to go and not much to do outside of training and studying, it was an escape from the tedium of a recurring life. Even when she was not allowed to leave the Academy, her mind could wander and dream of adventures on faraway worlds.

And perhaps her curiousity may have been shaped due to the lack of other stimulus during their respite, but the young woman did not dwell much on the matter. Even while she enjoyed the land of permafrost that was Hoth, and the great sea of gnarled trees on Atrisia, and dreamt about the flower fields of Commenor, but what truly captured her fascination were the lost mysteries and the unknown.

“I suppose it solves our the issue of allowing them to travel with us to a potentially dangerous place,” she hummed in agreement, her foot picking its way through the sands and rocks in a nimble manner. After all, while their young students were more or less fine, their wellbeing were still compromised by their ordeals. And if was possible, the blonde was not about to risk their safety.

The path towards the sanctum buried in the sands of time was… lamentably straight and forward, and not the twisting and winding labyrinth that Marriskcal has half-hoped for. Prudence whispered that she should be glad that it allowed them to complete their undertaking more swiftly. But the adventurer that lied deep within her wanted to see something unique and rare, just like in the adventures of Eisley Novar and Labyrinth of Evil.

“I prefer not having sand inside my lightsaber hilt,” she stated, wrinkling her nose at the thought of discovering grains of sands weeks and months after.

While Marriskcal was equally in the dark as her brother as to the breakout at the prison, with her senses cast far and wide whenever they were away on an assignment, the moment an unsuspecting escapee treaded within her circle of perception, the blonde stiffened. “Seto… did you sense that? I think we are not the only ones here...”