Public The Carnage of Figaro (...Favoura VII)

[Velok Brokentusk]

Seventh moon of Figaro Favoura
Outer Rim
Neutral territory

Figaro Favoura VII was an absolute backwater, notable for exactly two things.

One: It was the homeworld of the Lupines, the strange primate/canid shapeshifters who had cropped up to spread chaos or take power so many times over the past few decades. Velok well remembered his grandfather's stories of Vega and Ket Van-Derveld, of the old Lupune Sith dynasties and bloodlines.

Two, and vastly more interesting: the composition of its atmosphere. Most habitable worlds with a Type I atmosphere averaged around 21% oxygen. Increasing it to only 24 or 25% radically increased the risk of fire and made fires far harder to put out.

The atmospheric oxygen ratio of Figaro Favoura VII was much, much higher. No doubt the thirteen thousand humans who called its three medieval settlements home had learned to take special care with their fireplaces and lanterns, lest they lose everything.

One fine warm day, a handful of Whiphid Raider light frigates descended into the atmosphere in question. A transmission reached every relay in the system and all the systems nearby. Presumably, if Lupines still enjoyed power and wealth somewhere, they'd be listening.

"I'm Velok the Youngest, called Velok Brokentusk. My forces have taken up a position over the unusually flammable world of Figaro Favoura Seven. We are armed with flame carpet incendiary warheads - weapons of mass destruction even on a normal planet. We will erase every castle, palace, or comparable structure, very possibly igniting the entire atmosphere, unless we receive one billion credits. I can be reached toll free at XCV-582-8268."

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Enroute to the Figaro Favoura System.
Objective: Risk Assessment.
Inventory: Bo Staff | Lightsaber | Jedi Armor.
Starship: The Repertoire.

"I'm Velok the Youngest, called Velok Brokentusk. My forces have taken up a position over the unusually flammable world of Figaro Favoura Seven. We are armed with flame carpet incendiary warheads - weapons of mass destruction even on a normal planet. We will erase every castle, palace, or comparable structure, very possibly igniting the entire atmosphere, unless we receive one billion credits. I can be reached toll free at XCV-582-8268".
​

By the time the transmission reached Caedyn, it had gone out across the Jedi Comport; the Network that connected all Jedi Organizations to one another providing they chose to still utilize it. The threat was enough to have Caedyn depart from the Enclave of Svivren in the hope of reaching the sector in time to be of some help to the local occupants of Figaro Favoura.

Velok Brokentusk , this wasn't a name that had crossed Caedyn's desk, so to speak. He didn't have much information on the person in question aside from the transmission that had gone out and a number of assumptions that came with his choice of words, and apparent intentions. That said, this was also the first time visiting Figaro Favoura too, and so he wasn't entirely certain of the reception he'd receive, nor how they viewed Jedi.

With Lexus at the Corvette's helm, and some time yet before they'd arrive, Caedyn had the time to do some quick research. Three major settlements were what he found from the Holonet's response; Dress'la, the Capital Volfstadt, and Malatyr. Figaro society apparently consisted of Lupine and Human citizens, though perhaps a number of others whom might have come to the planet from other worlds, it was never safe to assume the Holonet was 100% correct. Regardless, Caedyn wouldn't find to great a difference from the Human aspect of the world's culture. This of course, still not counting out the possibility of hostility towards his Jedi lifestyle.

"Master, we're due to enter the Figaro Favoura System shortly" Lexus' words came across the intercom in Caedyn's quarters, provoking him to leave his desk and make way towards the cockpit in preparation for their arrival.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Caedyn Arenais

The Whiphid Raider 'Icefall' took up a geosynchronous orbit above a little place called Volfstadt. Like the planet's other settlements, Volfstadt revolved around a gothic castle in dubious repair.

From the edge of the frigate's hangar, looking down through the eyes of the Force, Velok saw only a bullseye.

The flame carpet warhead massed about half as much as one of the old Sekairo-class stealth boats at the back of the hangar. An incendiary at this scale could burn square miles of terrain on a normal world. Here, on oxygen-rich Figaro Favoura VII, there was no telling what it could do.

A seven-hundred-pound Whiphid boar took off a mask and admired the paint job he'd just airbrushed onto the warhead. It read 'Silver Bullet.'

 

[Silver Shield Group]

Another corvette lurched into the Figaro Favoura system.

It bore no distinguishing marks - not even transponder codes, but the vessel's jagged, triangular appearance hinted at something produced by and for any myriad of Imperial organizations. Without so much as a 'hello', it steered itself into high orbit above the seventh moon. Ventral hangar bays rumbled open, and a trio of satellites tumbled out.

The satellites were self-piloting, and additionally outfitted with a number of advanced sensory systems. They steered themselves into stable orbits at key points around the moon. And as they were doing that, a few large large, container-like objects slowly drifted from the corvette and down towards the moon's surface.

Cursory scans would show that they contained probe droids, and that the containers were outfitted with a number of repulsors. Care was evidently being taken to make sure that did not heat up and ignite a large portion of the planet on entry. Attempts to triangulate their landing site would indicate, of all possible places, the region known as the Schwartzweld.

Clearly someone had a vested interest in observing - with meticulous detail - the full course of the impending conflagration.

 

[Bernard]

When the transmission of a pirate fleet above a planet with a most unfortunate little quirk reached the Jedi Comport, Bernard had been idly scrolling through its social communication system. He’d only recently discovered that this Jedi Holonet even existed, having made a registered account, he’d begun digging through all the possibilities this system had in store. From fellow Jedi in silver space bragging about visiting fast food places, which struck Bernard as not just odd but unnecessarily cruel, for, what had the innocent Apokka ever done to deserve such a barbarous fate for their distant cousins, to the live news feeds keeping any interested up to date with the galaxy’s machinations, it was a most wondrous and practical tool.

The latest news detailed the extortion currently occurring on a remote system in the Outer Rim. It struck Bernard as unusually cruel to demand such a ransom from an entire planet of innocent people. Pirates had gone to extreme lengths before, but this marked a wholly new level of piracy in his book. It took him several moments to figure out how to actually interact with the news post, technology being far from his area of expertise, but the intuitive design made itself apparent soon enough, even during a hasty dash towards his starfighter. He sent out a few direct messages, as they were called, to a few of the people that came to mind, sharing the news post with his extensive friends list of zero. After passing the minimum of pre-flight checks he made haste from Peace, to aid the people of Figaro Favoura VII.

A short time afterwards, rousing the padawan from his meditative state, a soft chime announced the imminent departure from hyperspace. Focus on his surroundings returned to him, honing his determination to save the faultless folk of Figaro. He only hoped others had seen the news and would respond in kind.

Velok Brokentusk Caedyn Arenais Aaran Tafo Amos Orno

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

A small young boar, only a couple of hundred pounds, hustled into the hangar. <Velok, another ship has arrived, half the size of a Raider. It's silent and does not act like predator or prey.>

Velok turned from his appreciation of the freshly painted flame carpet warhead. <What's it doing?>

<Sending droids down. To watch, we think.>

<Ideal. This is as much an audition as an extortion. Granted, it would be more ideal if the ship came bearing the electronic transfer codes for a billion credits. Tell the bridge team not to fire on the visitor or the droids. They're clearly meant to burn when the castles do. What of the Glacial Hate and the Wrath of Ch'unkk?>

<They've taken up geosynchronous positions over Dress'la and Malatyr. Flame carpets ready. The other Raiders are moving to cover secondary targets.>

Velok grunted in approval and returned to looking down out of the hangar bay, through the haze of its atmospheric retention field.

<Remarkably flammable.>

Silver Shield Group Bernard Caedyn Arenais

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Enroute to the Figaro Favoura System.
Objective: Risk Assessment.
Inventory: Bo Staff | Lightsaber | Jedi Armor.
Tags: Bernard | Velok Brokentusk | Silver Shield Group

​

The Repertoire was a far smaller, far more personal vessel than the Ominous frigate in orbit of the 7th moon, yet as the Heavy Corvette snapped into real space with the glowing orb that was apparently to be set aflame, laying in wait ahead, Caedyn opened the vessels Comm-Channels to transmit a broad range and open frequency, wanting to gain the attention of this Velok Brokentusk in hopes of reasoning with him, and perhaps gaining a better understanding of the situation.

"This is Caedyn Arenais of the Repertoire, to unidentified Vessel. I seek to speak with Velok, he who recently declared hostile intent towards the people of Figaro Favoura. Request permission to board, so that we might speak in person".

Lexas turned sharply to look to it's owner; if looks could kill and droids were capable of glaring, this would be it. "Sir, I find this to be highly unorthodox. There is very little chance that someone who's voiced their intent to burn this Moon, would be willing to concede to a man of your young age", the droid wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"I have to try, Lex" Caedyn replied, sparing the droid a small smile in appreciation of it's care; "Besides, the Repertoire can't match that ship's offensive systems from what I'm seeing on scanners...".

"I must say I think this is a terrible idea" the droid complained.

​

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

A comlink squealed at the little boar's belt. He grunted into it and passed it to Velok as the bridge routed the transmission down to the hangar bay. Velok accepted the comlink daintily, careful not to crush the human device.

"Arenais," he said in fluent Basic. "I was sorry to hear that the elder Arenais died. I'd have liked to face him someday. For a human, his beard was formidable. Heh. Caedyn, I'm denying your request to dock. We can speak like this, just voices and reason. Tell me, are you the man who can get the Lupines to give me my one billion credits?"

Through the hangar's atmospheric field, he watched the little Jedi corvette approach. Whiphid guns pointed that way, but he had yet to order an attack.

Caedyn Arenais

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Location: Peace --> Figaro Favoura System VIII
Good guys: Bernard // Caedyn Arenais
Not so good guy: Velok Brokentusk
Unknown: Silver Shield Group ​

Bernard slid into her DMs, and it took a few seconds to remember who she had nicknamed Barnyard. Unfortunately, the message's content was a stark contrast to the amusement of the username. She was only a handful of minutes behind him, jolting from any sort of training routine and going through the routine motions required to deploy a starfighter from its resident hangar.

The journey was meditative -- she was working on finding her rock in The Force. Doing what was possible to seek reality before it evidenced itself, and given, the coordinates her fellow Padawan had patched through, she had plenty of time to bathe in the cerulean hue of hyperspace. Within her flight suit Loske had three haptic pads strapped to her body. Information overload and finding concentration within the noise was something she was working tirelessly at. The haptic pads on her left and right thighs and the small of her back could draw her attention to enemy vessels or missiles coming from those directions. For now however, the small buzz drew her attention to the five minute warning.

Pulling her seat forwards, Loske emerged from her Jedi trance and checked over the controls. Weapons started to warm up, gas chambers primed and energized. She finished up just as the streaks of the stars returned and he reverted to real space. And she noted the familiarity of Bernard's ship next to her, and a few other very dire things she didn't need radar for.

She toggled to extend her communications to the other Skywalker X-Wing while several dots, that she had to squint to see, picked up on her radar.

"This looks tense.

We shoulda brought bigger ships."

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Figaro
Friends: Loske Treicolt Bernard Caedyn Arenais
Bad Dudes: Velok Brokentusk
Creeper: Silver Shield Group

He always held a certain distaste for Starfighters.

It was always too cramped. Too tight, not enough room to move his shoulders. But the starfighter he was using was built especially for speed and firepower. Not comfort. Much as he'd like to bring the Freebird. It was not suited for this kind of arrangement. If the reports he had read during his trip through Hyperspace were correct. It was the same problem that many planets in the outer rim had to deal with.

Pirates. And this time, they were especially audacious. Threatening an entire world if a ridicuous bounty was not paid.

He could not help but wonder what they were expecting here. What was their plan? Certainly they couldnt possibly expect to get away with such a stunt. Either by detonating the weapon or taking the credits. They would hardly last long enough to spend their rewards. Such an act would not go without reprisal. Not without a response from local fleets and other gathered forces. Something didnt fit here. And not knowing all the pieces of the puzzle was giving the Padawan a headache on the journey to the planet itself. Wondering just what the endgame was here for Velok. As mindless destruction tended to not be very profitable in the long run.

No. Chances are this was a setup. Either a distraction for something else. Or someone was pulling the pirate's strings. But such theories would have to wait. As the real and present danger of a firebombing was still apparent. "More ships are probably on the way." He said in response to Loske's own quip. Chances are that Peace wasnt the only station alerted to the situation unfolding. They were just among the quickest to respond.

"Only thing to do right now is wait and see how things go. Might try to land in there if I see an opening." A quick double check of his systems, ensuring that everything was running at full capacity. "If things get hairy, who wants to join me in saying hi?"

 

[Agrippa]

Figaro Crisis
Aboard the Repertoire

"O-one...b-billion cred-dits?" Sigi stuttered with a gaping mouth. "One BILLION credits?!" he blinked twice but that did not change reality. Velok Brokentusk wasn't stuttering. The healer shook his head and composed himself as best as he could given the dire circumstances.

Could they hypothetically arrange the Lupine to pay the ransom? Far as his common knowledge went, they were...well - rather fiery mannered. Ironically. But even if they did, what guarantee did they possess that Velok would not turn Figaro into an actual living hell? The Outer Planets Alliance negotiated, and even trusted, thugs but the adaptation process to the Outer Rim norms was still lagging with Sigi.

That, on top of the arrival of identified and unidentified ships churned trouble in his mind. They were in no position to pressure the warband and they had no solution in acquiring the billion credits. In the games of dejarik he spent days playing back on Coruscant, Velok's move resembled the fork. Whatever they did, they were bound to be forked either way. He cared to remember the only move to counter a fork was...not leaving oneself vulnerable to a fork.

So, if the hundreds of hours Sigi spent on dejarik could not help him, then it rested on Caedyn Arenais' shoulders to save the day. A young man who, at first glance, seemed as confused as Sigurd but capable of feigning decisiveness and some form of confidence. The padawan accepted he could be wrong as he had just met the Jedi Knight at an OPA rendezvous point answering the distress call.

"Pick your words carefully." Sigi only managed to say as an advice to Caedyn.

Aaran Tafo Loske Treicolt Bernard
Silver Shield Group

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Enroute to the Figaro Favoura System.
Objective: Risk Assessment.
Inventory: Bo Staff | Lightsaber | Jedi Armor.
Tags: Bernard | Velok Brokentusk | Silver Shield Group | Loske Treicolt | Aaran Tafo

"Arenais, I was sorry to hear that the elder Arenais died. I'd have liked to face him someday. For a human, his beard was formidable. Heh. Caedyn, I'm denying your request to dock. We can speak like this, just voices and reason. Tell me, are you the man who can get the Lupines to give me my one billion credits?".
​

Part of Caedyn was relieved in that this Velok person had denied his request to board, although he had needed to try for the sake of those at risk on the surface of the 7th Moon, the move would have also put Caedyn himself at great risk with obvious crew aboard Velok's vessel at a far greater number than he himself had in his company. There was of course, also Agrippa to consider...-So new into the Outer Planets Alliance, and the Council of the Living Force which consisted of so many various Force User organizations.

"Master Caedyn, I'm picking up a number of vessels appearing nearby, although they appear to be smaller craft, Sir" Lexus informed him quietly from the Co-Pilot's station. Caedyn responding with a nod in acknowledgement, however his thoughts were more distracted by what card to play next, so to speak.

One billion credits was an awful lot of Cred's to just hand over, yet how many lives were at risk down upon Figaro Favoura. "Repertoire to Velok Brokentusk . I regret to say that this is my first visit to this world, however...-I am in the position to acquire a substantial amount of credits, providing you withdraw from this Sector and cease all hostile intentions towards these people". He hadn't given a number, or outright agreed to Velok's demands, yet Velok himself had acknowledged it, Veiere was no more. The assets of House Arenais were within the Son's care, today.

Hopefully, these other vessels would be able to intervene while Caedyn kept the foe distracted. There were so few other options but to try diplomacy and if necessary, bluff his way through avoiding a complete massacre of innocent Lupine.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Velok leaned against the big flame carpet, careful not to touch wet paint. Getting that crap out of one's back fur was a rite of passage he didn't need to repeat.

"If you're offering to pay in lieu of the Lupines, Prince Arenais, I wholeheartedly accept. Transfer the funds to an independent bank on the Tion Trade Nexus, account number 3263827, and my forces will depart in peace, immediately. And since you have no reason to trust me, I'll take ten percent in advance and your word of honour that you'll transfer the remainder once we've left. Are these terms acceptable, or is it time for you to search your little black book for the Lupines of the galaxy?"

He was speaking on an open channel: the other small ships would hear just fine.

Caedyn Arenais Agrippa Silver Shield Group Loske Treicolt Bernard Aaran Tafo

 

[Ryv]

Ryv grumbled to himself as he reclined in his bed on Peace. Another day of work left him too exhausted to make time for training, so he patiently awaited the next mealtime. To pass the time, he downloaded a new game on his mobile communications device. A group of padawan introduced him to Credit Master, an idle-RNG game devoted to building up a virtual fortune, raiding random treasuries, and beating your friend's planet into the ground until they ultimately made you rage quit or they quit themselves. His luck was pretty bad so far, being stuck in the fifth village for like a week straight. Aaran was not making the kiffar's time easy at all. In the brawnier padawan's defense, Ryv did deserve it. The first night of playing, he trashed each building of his pals until Aaran had to start entirely from scratch. Not a cool move on his end.

With a sigh, Ryv threw the phone to his side and stared up at his ceiling in silence. He was prepared to keep it up for several more hours had his MCD not vibrated at his side. He slid it open with a swipe of the thumb and damn near screamed when he saw Bernard's latest status update.

' H e l p 1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 '
​

It didn't surprise Ryv at all the arkanian had no idea how to use Spacebook. Bernard wasn't the most tech-savvy. What did surprise Ryv was the poorly taken, blurry picture of Bernard's forehead and a pirate fleet hovering nearly out of frame? He leaped to his feet, throwing on his jacket before bursting from his room. Each stride propelled him through the hall's of Peace towards the hangar holding his X-Wing.

"BD!" Ryv dug his communicator from his bag and activated it. "BD! Prep the Wing for launch! ETA one minute, we're heading to Figaro!" he nearly shouted the planet's name, only for the buddy droid to chirp out its acknowledgement and end the link prematurely. "Well, that was rude," the kiffar grumbled as he kept up the mad dash through the corridors, soon crashing into the hangar itself. Without slowing, he scrambled up the starfighter's ladder and dove into the cockpit. He grinned at the droid and propped him up on his lap before activating the hyperdrive and blasting off towards the endangered world. "Alright buddy, looks like we're not too far out. Great work on getting the old girl ready for us," the padawan nuzzled the droid before taking the controls.

Minutes later the X-Wing burst from hyperspace a dozen or so meter's from Bernard's ship. Ryv lifted the MCD and pointed at Bernard's status update before mouthing, "I'm here, buddy. I saw your status!"

Bernard | Velok Brokentusk | Loske Treicolt | Caedyn Arenais | Agrippa | Aaran Tafo ​

 

[Kazuhira]

Location: Peace /// Figaro Favoura System
Tags: Bernard | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Aaran Tafo | Velok Brokentusk | Caedyn Arenais | Agrippa

Kaz had just opened the article about the ongoing pirate activity in the Figaro Favorua System when he received a message from Bernard. Coincidentally, the message happened to be about the very situation he was in the process of learning about. Extorting an entire planet wasn't something he had ever seen succeed before. He doubted that the plan put forward by the aggressors had much chance for success, but a master couldn't let a padawan act on such a thing unsupported, let alone not offer his help to the innocent. The people of Figaro VII were meek in the face of such a threat, and it was the job of the strong to protect the weak. Kaz departed his chambers and prepped his ship as fast as possible, ignoring all non-essential pre-flight procedures.

Minutes later, Kaz's starfighter exploded urgently from hyperspace, arriving near and moments after Ryv. "I received your message, Bernard. Your initiative to come Figaro VII's aid is admirable, Padawan." The intonation of his rather harsh voice came off as flat, and would almost come off as annoyed if you didn't know any better. "I don't suppose we have a plan?" Kaz hadn't really taken much time to bring a plan into consideration, but he didn't imagine anyone else did either. While some mad pirate is threatening to torch an entire planet, time is too precious to bother with meticulousness.

 

[Shute Gunray]

Shute's engorged neck bounced up and down as he laughed. The foolish Sith, Velok the Youngest had decided to launch an attack on Figaro for only one billion credits. In the time it took Shute to struggle out of bed and climb atop his mobile throne with the help of his electrum plated magna guards, he'd already acquired ten times that puny figure. The fast-food monolith and lawyer extraordinaire was no stranger to 'the hustle' as many young neimoidian's called it. His early life was truly a climb up from the muck of his homeworld. With only a small loan of one hundred million credits from his father, Shute built an empire on the backs of immigrant labor, cutting corners, and bribing city officials. The only true path to wealth.

Figaro was an opportunity for wealth, probably. If not, it would provide the plump quadrillionaire some entertainment and a chance to test his fleet of Lucrehulk III's on the inhabitants of the planet. The quadrumvirate of hella rich alien warlords watching the stars past by at hyperspeed. The coming storm would satiate the lumbering neimoidian's taste for chaos. The very thought of it brought a hand to his bulging belly, where he rubbed it in anticipation.

"My friends," Shute Gunray, the head of the Gunray Dynasty, Chosen of the Neimoidian People, Titan of the Fast-Food World, Lawyer Extraordinaire, the Second Pillar, and Lord of Pestilence turned to face the three other richest aliens in the galaxy. "Today we blot out the sun of Figaro with our endless armada. So begins the glorious age of the blockade."

And so it went... not one... not two... not three... not four.... no one could be sure how many Lucrehulk III's came out of hyperspace over Figaro. Only one thing the public could be sure of...

It was a lot, honestly.

Gat Tambor | Strappa The Thicka | Otto Blank
Bernard | Velok Brokentusk | Caedyn Arenais | Agrippa | Aaran Tafo | Loske Treicolt ​

 

[Bernard]

Although there was a part of Bernard which would have been comfortable carrying the burden alone, he was relieved to hear the familiar voices played through the comms console. The arrival of the two other Padawan worked to amplify his confidence. He sighed as he looked over the variables of their situation, letting the chatter of a foreign Jedi and the ransomer play out.

“Should it come to that I would be honoured.” He offered to Aaran.

There was no way he would trust a pirate, ever. Honour among thieves may exist, but that honour seldom stretched into the realm of empathy. No, he didn’t think that Velok would keep to the terms of their agreement, for what reason did he have? A hundred million credits were already an exorbitant sum of credits, more than most pirates saw in decades. He wagered that this Velok sought to extort the Jedi, only to indulge his wicked whims and light Figaro on fire in disregard of the word he gave.

He opened an encrypted, private comms channel to the Jedi Arenais, allowing the other members of their impromptu wing to listen in.

When all of a sudden another starfighter dropped out of hyperspace so close he could see the pilot and the device he was holding in his hand perfectly.

“Ryv? What in the Force…” His almost perpetual frown let up for several moments as comprehension settled. Some part of him he didn’t know existed began to make him feel … something uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite place the emotion. He’d read about various kinds of psychological responses to different stimuli and were he forced to pick, he’d guess it was a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He keyed the kiffar into their private comm system.

“Please never speak of that to anyone. Ever. Or I will personally make sure you do not.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to regain a sense of focus, only realizing too late he’d kept the channel open to the other Jedi. Shame was replaced with a new kind of muted emotional pain.

“Prince Arenais, this is Jedi Padawan Bernard of Arca.” Focus returned to his voice as he swept aside the last few seconds. “I place no trust in the pirate’s words, but I recognize our tactical disadvantage. Our wing is at your command.” He tapped his on-board computer, directing it to calculate several vectors of approach for warheads and starfighters alike.

An unfamiliar voice came through his comm system as a plan began to formulate within his mind. Though he couldn’t match a face to it, the age inherent to its sound made him assume it was someone wiser than he. Any annoyance or criticism was lost on the padawan, a strict expectation to venerate his elders and superiors made him deaf to most ideas that would cast the more experienced Jedi into doubt.

Several possible courses of action began to race through his mind. One viable option seemed to be the interception of the warheads and subsequent neutralization through the use of a precision application of a force-created barrier around the resulting fires, though a single mistake could lead to thousands, if not millions, of deaths. Similarly, an attempt to infiltrate the vessels or disable their ships could yield the same result should they be discovered too early or fail outright.

He let the scenarios play out in his mind several times, attempting to account for different variables. The interception appeared to have a success ratio greater than the infiltration or direct assault. Purely theoretically, based on the variables he could think of, that was the optimal course of action.

“If I may, I would suggest that we get into position closer to the ships. In case the pirate goes back on his word, we will be better situated to respond to the warheads mid-flight to potentially contain the fires with the force before they even reach the surface.”

He was aware it would be a monumental task, for all of them, mere padawan that they were, but he had faith. Not much, in great part due to his own meagre skills with the starfighter and the force, but in a situation as dire as this one appeared, the enemy already several moves ahead of them, all tempo on their side, he could only see the bold and daring leading to success.

Moments later he peered through the glasteel viewport, several long shadows obscuring the sun's rays.

"What ... ?"

Loske Treicolt Caedyn Arenais Aaran Tafo Agrippa Ryv Kazuhira Velok Brokentusk Silver Shield Group

 

[Strappa The Thicka]

Strappa's thunderous laugh of amusement echoed off the of the luxury chamber that he and his three repugnantly rich companions. The chair in which he sat was far too small for his immense girth. The chair physically trembled, the inanimate object seemingly gained the ability to experience terror when subjected to his stupidly vast, utterly monstrous, and unexplainably colossal physique. He stroked the flaccid tendrils that hung from the face of pure power. One billion credits? You could not pay Strappa The Thicka, The Beeflord Of The Prison Industrial Complex, and Lord Of Famine to defecate in a public restroom for a measly one-billion. Velok The Youngest must truly be impoverished to exert such effort for a laughable amount of money.

Strappa stripped all of the meat from a Deep-Fried Nuna Leg with a single bite. He flicked the bone into an electrum bowl that had become an ossuary of remains from the sheer amount of sustenance that The Lord of Famine required to keep the unspeakable bulk he called his body in operation. The pendulous tendrils that hung from his face quivered at the idea of enslaving imprisoning all of these impoverished whipids to work on one of his privately owned penal colonies. A just punishment for their actions, or at least, that's what the rest of the galaxy would think.

The metal floor beneath Strappa's chair groaned beneath his astronomical mass, but the sheer strength that he exuded intimidated the floor into submission, and it held fast despite the weight limit. He continued to stuff his face in repugnant fashion, consuming every calorie he possibly good at an efficient rate. <"Shall we take betsh on how the whipidsh will reshpond?"> The stark amout of food in his mouth slurred his speech as his lips flapped together with every synonym.

Shute Gunray | Gat Tambor | Otto Blank
Loske Treicolt Velok Brokentusk Ryv Caedyn Arenais Aaran Tafo Agrippa​

 

[Otto Blank]

The colossal Belugan prince sat in his seat, the chair hardly able to hold up his generous mounds of flabby flesh. The Belugan would be making slobbery and unsavory noises as he held up a plate of Micromite pate and let his lively tongue work the pate into his beaky split lips and down his gullet as he licked the plate clean. Several of his corporate friends were seated at the table discussing the plan of blockading Figaro as he raised his hand to his mouth after setting the plate down, wiping away the excess pate that was on his beaky mouth before licking the leftovers off from the back of his hand " Yes! Squeeze those filthy little peasants for all they are worth! "

The Belugan prince would bring his hands together, rubbing them in a devious fashion as he nodded in agreement to Gunray's words before clapping them giddily. Blockades were indeed good for extorting and pressuring the peasantry to do their bidding. The mere thought of it elicited a greedy chuckle from the hefty prince. He'd snap his fingers as he ordered his slave attendant, " Slave! Bring me the oorps! " A Twi'lek slave would bow their head as she brought a platter of oorps to him, the Belugan plucking one and holding it between his thumb and index before popping it into his split beak. The little oorp would be juggled between his split maw with his tongue as he savored its taste.

Gat Tambor | Shute Gunray | Strappa The Thicka
Loske Treicolt | Velok Brokentusk | Ryv | Caedyn Arenais | Aaran Tafo | Agrippa ​

 

[Gat Tambor]

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PERFECTLY LEGAL ​

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The Lord of War's plan was coming into fruition. Aboard the CIS Lucrehulk III Pillar of Anniliation the Scourge From Skako slowly coursed his way across the bridge of his flagship, faintly hovering above the durasteel floor covering with his outspread fingers linked against one another infront of his chest. His presence aboard the bridge was palpable - his aura of domination overpowering even to the other Lords aboard his vessel. His retinue of ruinous destroyers had executed this arbitrary display of the Technoid panoply to a degree of surgical brilliance. In the words of Shute himself, this action was perfectly legal. There was no chink in the armor of this action's absolute perfection.​

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Convening with his retinue of staunch advisors, industrial titans hailing from the most profitable pursuits in the galaxy.​

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"My Lords - do please update me on the progress of our operation- OEWEEREROEREREEWWWEEOEEEEEEEEEEEEERERWEWRERE-" The horrible shrieking of his constantly malfunctioning voice modulator continued for minutes. Agonizing. Yet in the shadow of Tambor's sheer Galactic influence - no utterance of annoyance or displeasure could be uttered before eventually he corrected it with meticulous tuning. "Here."​

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Shute Gunray | Otto Blank | Strappa The Thicka ​

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Spoiler: Credit where credit is due

Coding wizardry by the illustrious king Guy