Dominion The Root of the Problem | GA Dominion of Foerost

[Ryv]

// Paragon //
// Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Within the Star Destroyer //
// Locate Cedric Grayson //
// P Placeholder 0128 // Dak // Han Vane //

​

Ryv watched, eyes wide with shock, as Dak positioned himself before the Jedi Master. The kiffar hadn't begun to consider the idea of brewing conflict. Cedric's shift from noble Imperator to errant Vagabond hadn't gone unnoticed by those closest to him, if anything, Ryv imagined their concern for their lost friend only grew with each sighting or rumor that reached them. The Masked Man, the Man in Black, an Errant Warrior, a Sword Without its Master. Ryv heard such utterings and more from the small web of informants he'd managed to keep since going straight. There could be no mistaking the man who once had it all, only for it to come crashing down in a moment of heroics and sacrifice. It hurt the Jedi Knight to face reality as it continued to take shape around them. He couldn't begin to imagine what Cedric felt the moment he woke up on Coruscant, the remnants of the Imperium all but forgotten, replaced instead by a democracy he fundamentally disagreed with.

Coming upon the scene, Ryv slowed to a stop several feet behind Cedric. The Jedi's amber gaze met Dak's crimson receptors, a mix of confusion and surprise etched visibly across his face. Unsure of how to approach the encounter playing out before him, Ryv deactivated the Blade of Ruusan and slid it into place at his side.

"Hey, now," Ryv raised both hands. "Not to jump to any conclusions, but things are seeming a bit too tense for me, let's just take a second and calm down, alright?" he moved to circle around Cedric, momentarily glancing at the unknown Jedi Master sharing the room with them, Sal. "I think we're all here for our own reason," he stopped now at a midway point between Dak and Cedric, though standing off to the side, forming a triangle with each of the trio taking up a corner. "Everything going on here isn't good, I agree. Getting to that holocron and destroying it isn't a terrible idea. Working together can only increase our chances," his hands dropped to his sides. "But Dak is right, Cedric. You're meant for so much more than taking on an abandoned ship of sithspawn. You're a Jedi Master. Not only that, but you're also the greatest living warrior the Jedi can muster. Wyatt is gone, man. He's MIA. Lanik is dead, Bernard is having a goddamn meltdown every other day, and the Silver Jedi are still fucking around and throwing parties. Remember what I told you back in the hospital when you woke up?"

Silence fell over the scene as Ryv focused his attention on the visor, shielding Cedric's face from his prying eyes.

"We still need you," Ryv crossed his arms. "The galaxy is healing, man. I'm sure you've heard, but we took back Muunilist and Mygeeto from the Sith. And it's only the beginning. There are plans in place for Dubrillion, Jaemus," he stopped, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I think we're shooting for Bastion, Cedric. We're going to break the unbreakable city. If we can free the seat of Sith power, nothing can stop us from getting Ession back. We can do this together, just like old times."

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Objective II
Engine-Section of the Star Destroyer
Ryv , Dak , Han Vane


The errant's eyes drifted shut as he extended his senses outward. The words Dak spoke were not lost to him, but he was uncertain if he could indulge his own companion. It was only after he reached out and made certain that there were no more beasts nearby that he offered a response.

"There is no work too low for anyone, if it's needed," the Jedi mused. There was no hostility in his body language, though his unlit lightsaber remained in his hand. He wasn't about to make the mistake of stowing it - not for fear of any threat from his old companions, but the beasts that called the iron tomb home. "I am still me, Dak," the vocalizer of his helm malfunctioned for a moment, adding a tinny tone to his voice. "The Ashla wills of me what she needs. I came here because of the threat she made it possible for me to know of," even still, he could sense the tension in the air. Dak had grown even more lifelike in his absence, and perhaps that was because he very much was alive now, in a sense.

His old companion's concern was touching, but then Cedric could understand things from his perspective. In truth, the Barash had never concluded, and Cedric's debt to the Ashla was yet unpaid - to the outside observer that might have seemed crazed. Indeed, he might have thought such in the past himself, but those kinds of doubts no longer plagued him.

"My purpose is to serve, and nothing more." He concluded, "I appreciate your concern Dak, and I'm happy to have you with me here, it's been far too long," his head tilted toward Ryv as the youth joined the conversation, "But you have no cause to worry. This is the same grunt work I spent most of my life embroiled in. Nothing's changed."

His former apprentice's words had a similar impact. The news of Wyatt and the others had been an unknown. Some of it was unsurprising, and some of it alarming. It gave him pause. From the sounds of it, the New Jedi Order had little by way of seniority left. The future of the order without proper guidance: easy prey for the Bogan.

A small knot of worry wormed its way into his chest, "I've heard of your successes. Be wary of your new allies. They will be your enemies the moment Bastion falls," he spoke, putting his initial thoughts to word. The Alliance's allies of fortune would just as quickly devour them if the opportunity presented itself. With Wyatt gone, the youths might not have the experience to understand the threat they called friends.

A pregnant silence filled the air as Cedric stared down at the ground, his brow furrowing with thought. "I will consider this," he spoke, the helmet's vocalizer finally righting itself as he looked between the three men(droidman). "But there are more pressing matters at hand. Do you have any knowledge of where this holocron might be? I'd planned on just cutting my way through the ship until I felt the corruption."

 

[Shute Gunray]

// Shute Ourselves in the Foot //
// Coruscant // Grand Convocation Chamber //
// Emmen Tagge // Julius Loghain // Maou // Mohina Sioran

Shute Gunray waited patiently for the hundreds of other Senators to arrive, his bulbous eyes watching many as they took their customary positions within the Grand Convocation Chamber. The Corportalist gained a reputation as one the more aggressive Senators, regularly backing bills some found questionable when they came through the chamber. Many considered it a matter of wealth, while some considered it a question of morality. Truth be told, Shute Gunray wanted to see success above all else. He pursued it ruthlessly, willing to do what others might've considered immoral. It wasn't loyalty to the Galactic Alliance or some other government that drove him forward, but a matter of legacy. The Gunray name carried weight, it brought him immense pride to call it his own. No Gunray would allow any movement they backed to fail, at least not without one hell of a fight.

The neimoidian knew more than just his investments rode on this bill. Kuat, a planet torn apart in recent history, needed this economic boom. Whether or not the Alliance further pursued the Sith Empire in open-warfare, Kuat couldn't hope to rebuild without a means of economic improvement. The Kuat Driveyards were legendary, utilized era after era for the efficiency and large-scale production of ships unlike any other in the galaxy. Empires rose and fell, fighting tooth and nail for the mighty Kuati works of art. Beyond just Kuat, Foerost stood in similar circumstances. The One Sith, the Sith Empire, and the Imperial remnants left behind in their stead ravaged the Core Worlds through and through. Foerost and Kuat were sister worlds, capable of producing so much, yet shelved away thus far by the Alliance's hyper-focus on bringing the Core back under its growing umbrella of influence. With the unification efforts complete, it was time to take the next step.

"Chancellor, Caamas seeks recognition," Shute Gunray spoke up as most of the shuffling had ceased, pushing for the floor immediately. His aide directed the repulsorpod out to drift aimlessly before the thousands gathered. "My friends, I welcome you all once more to the Grand Convocation Chamber. With how much time we spend here, you'd think they'd provide us more comfortable arrangements," his brief attempt at a joke saw the large neimoidian motioning to the cold, sleek durasteel lining the surface of his pod. "Today, the Corportalist party would like to present a bill to you all. One intended on jump-starting the economy of two member-worlds, while simultaneously preparing us for the next steps in this war with the Sith Empire, and beyond," his aide activated the device linking his repulsorpod to the chambers holoprojector. Both the Kuat and Foerost shipyards materialized in a display of brilliant blue light. A top-down view of both shipyards presented dozens of empty or abandoned workstations, most of which likely collecting mounds of dust.

"I understand there are many here who fear a future that sees the Galactic Alliance armed for war. We seek to face each problem through our words, the merit of democracy, and the many brilliant minds who meet here so often. Yet, the galaxy is in a state of constant chaos. The New Imperial Order may be the front line of this war, but we are right behind them, prepared to offer our support to defeat our mutual enemy. Muunilist saw a number of our assets destroyed, while many of the brave men and women serving our Defense Force perished. If we are to continue supporting the New Imperial Order, we must up our production of ships. No invasion force can land without a proper fleet to help them. Each ship we provide will only bring this war closer to a conclusion, in turn," Shute Gunray paused, allowing the hologram to transition from the shipyards to an impressive fleet. "Stronger, more secured borders. Borders safeguarded by our people, using our products, further feeding our own economy, in turn improving the quality of life for all our people."

Shute Gunray took a step back, bowing his head.

"Caamas yields the floor, your excellency."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

// The Arrow //
// Shadow //
// Foerost / Depths of the Star Destroyer / Run //
// Allyson Locke //

Though light on his feet, there wasn't much that could be done to mask the reverberating metallic clang of each footstep. He bolted as fast as he could down the cold and unforgiving passages, turning at every junction and intersection, desperately trying to lose the pursuit of the hungry rakghouls. Even after every gap he cleared, and every obstacle he climbed, their dogged trailing did not falter. Determined to break their chase, he began to strike his blade into the walls and structures as he passed. Not even the cut-down obstacles he created behind him halted the bulk of them.

He took a sharp left, coming face to face with more rakghouls. A pair of them which perked up as they saw him come around the corner. There was hardly a perceivable moment before they began to charge. A quick lean backwards sent him into a slide with his forward momentum. Zaavik raised his hilt above his head and flourished, sending the twin emerald blades cleaving through the abhorrent abominations. Forcing himself forward out of the slide he caught sight of a third. He threw himself forward in a tumble, only avoiding becoming a rakghoul himself by a matter of centimetres.

Another left turn and several paces later he found himself returned to the sight of the two rakghouls he'd dispatched from the ventilation. Looking over his shoulder, the creatures had yet to round the corner, but they were coming. He hopped up and grabbed either edge of the open aperture and pulled himself into the vents. Peeking just barely over the ledge and down into the corridor he watched as the horde ran right past him. He could hear a few of the leading creatures jump into the same hole he'd fallen victim to.

A small wave of relief washed over him as he realized they must have guessed where he'd went. However, he wasn't quite out of the thick of it yet. A few lingered behind, sniffing the air beneath the vent, searching and scanning with intent to track him down. His eyes still remained peeked just beyond the ledge, watching the creatures carefully. He gritted his teeth closed, using only his nose to catch his breath to avoid breathing too loudly.

One single drop of sweat rolled down his forehead and to the tip of his nose. Gravity freed it from his skin, sending it down off his face and directly on the top of a rakghouls head. With a sickening growl, the creature's head snapped to look upwards. Zaaviks soft, blue eyes met the black eyes of the creature, devoid of any reason. He inhaled with fear and pulled his head away just as the creature shot up in an attempt to get in the vent.

He ignited both blades of the saber, which cut into the claustrophobic walls around him like butter. With no regard for cutting up his surroundings, he swung downwards and quelled the assaulting Sithspawn. An inexplicable sense told him to pull his feet in, which he did just before the claw of another ghoul punched through the bottom of the vents, barely missing him. He squeezed to rotate himself as the ghoul tore its way into the vents. With another swing, he severed the arms that found quarter within the durasteel.

That's when everything fell.

All that slicing had separated that portion of the vent from the wider system. In his metallic coffin, he plummeted into the ground with a stupidly loud clang. The floor panels beneath gave beneath the impact, just as the nearby panels had earlier. Encased in this shredded metallic box he plummeted through yet another floor before landing in a large repair bay. He swung his saber, even more, cutting himself out and standing up.

He was surrounded. The rakghouls where everywhere, surrounding him like a fleshy wall of death. The fear he'd suppressed, the frustration, the anger, all of it came forward as his survival instinct came in. The ship had been trying to coax it out all this time, and now the floodgates were open. As the abominatons charged, he matched their charge with a roar, gripping his hilt far harder than was reasonable.

Giving in, be it only momentarily or otherwise, he still stood no chance alone.

 

[Theo Vereen]

Objective III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot
Coruscant // Galactic City
Senate Chamber // Grand Convocation Chamber
Tags //
Corala Gethsverg | Fable Solborne | Elayne Daklana | Westenra Mina | Ordon Trozky | Ido Bastra | Taega Vrav'lan | Maou

He was quietly waiting for the Senator to answer his question, if the Senator would expand. There were strong voices all around and his might have gotten lost in the cross fire. He wished someone else were here right now and maybe if he was lucky she'd show up. But for right now he was on his own and needed to be mindful of the words spoke and to be sure he got clarity on it.

The last thing he wanted to report back was a vote that would bring the ire of his mother down on him.

 

[Dak]

Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer
Obj. IV - Confront Cedric Grayson
P Placeholder 0128 | Ryv ​

If only the droid was physically capable of sighing. Cedric's justification fell flat. The arrival of the old apprentice causes him to recalculate his course of action. He'd fully expected to engage the Jedi Master, if anything out of the hope that his own termination might break the Grayson from his indoctrination and guide him back to the path of the Light -- the true Light.

Many strings of words piece together in response, but none of them seem to capture his true sentiment; the betrayal and disappointment.

Nothing's changed..?

Everything had changed. In fact, the whole Galaxy was changing. Yet, when the people needed swords to guide them most, the fallen Imperator had vanished. Now, as Ryv had revealed, so too had Wyatt Morga. They fought their battles under the banner of light, but where were they now that the war had come?

"I did not come here for the holocron. I do not know where it is," the droid looks to the Kiffar, then back to stare into the visor of Cedric's mask "but we mustn't allow it to be destroyed. If there is any part of you left that wishes to aid your old companions, you will help us."

 

[Craig YNWA]

Objective II
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer

​

Camo exhaled. The entry into the ancient Star Destroyer had gone as smoothly as they could have hoped. This didn't mean he relaxed though, quite the opposite infact, his eyes scanned the area meticulously - his blaster rifle following their movement. He listened as best he could but most of the noise came from the other operatives with him, which was partly the reason why he preferred to work alone, he couldn't be killed because of someone else's mistake if it was just him.

He moved forward as quietly as he could, ensuring he worked in tandem with the other operatives. They cleared each room down the corridor ensuring they were the only living things in this section. As they approached a sealed blast door the squad took up defensive positions whilst couple of agents got to work opening the door. The brief was to err on the side of caution and stay silent until necessary - An order that Camo wholeheartedly agreed with, he'd only ever seen one Rakghoul many years ago, it hadn't been pretty, nor had the unlucky souls who had got in its way. At the time he had frozen when confronted with the beast although, in his defence, it was before the majority of his military training. He knew he couldn't risk that hesitation this time, he also knew that he would be confronted with more than just one this time, and he imagined they were a lot hungrier.

Finally, the blast doors were released and Camo refocused his attention to the hallway in front of them. It was darker than the one they stood in, it seemed more ominous if that was possible. Camo was first over the threshold and as he took that first step he froze for somewhere in the darkness came a screech that sent shivers down his spine.

"This is about to get interesting" growled Camo as he moved forwards.

​

 

[Saga of Valour]

Objective One // Make Ship Happen.
Core Worlds Region \\ Foerost System \\ Orbital Shipyards(s) - Anchored in High Orbit
Otto Shule - Human Replica Droid (Unknown)
Republic Engineering Corporation - Alliance Representative.
​

​

There was much to be done in the heavens above Foerost. As the Alliance Senate sought to reunite the Core Worlds, their methods of Expansion started to become far more diverse instead of simply petitioning a Planet’s administration to join the Federation. While the Planet of Foerost was more than happy to accept the Alliance’s offer - their Orbiting Shipyards were another issue entirely. It seemed that after the reorganization of the Grayson Imperium, the Shipyards relished in a relatively brief period of economic growth - before that wellspring of contracts dried up, and forced the Engineers to look towards… less than friendly forces in order to keep the lights on.

The Senate asked my Corporation, and one of my Competitors to send representatives to the Foerost facilities to inspect them. To see if they were worthy of the Alliance’s time and resources. While I wasn’t sure who my Competitors would send to join the Senate-appointed Delegation, this wasn’t something I could trust to one of my Corporate Subordinates. I had to see these venerable facilities for myself, and judge them accordingly. So, much like the unfortunate events on Tython, I dispatched one of my many Replica Platforms to lead the Inspection Team.

When the Droid, and the representatives arrived, there was a sense of awe and wonder that echoed through its positronic matrix. This was the first time my Duplicate saw anything of Foerost’s size and scale, and it was almost refreshing to experience such sensations again for the first time through… fresh(er) eyes. Not long after the lingering emotive response faded into the Replica’s memory bank, the Shuttle we boarded on Coruscant finally touched down within one of the Shipyard’s many pressurized Hangar Bays. That alone was a good sign, as many older Stations had difficulties keeping the atmospheric shielding active so soon after their contracts dried up.

It was then that I recalled a moment where one of my Duplicates was sucked out into void due to faulty maintenance. I then began to wonder what happened to that Replica… However, such thoughts were ultimately meaningless. We were here to discuss the future, and not ruminate on what transpired in the past. As such, my thoughts on the events of the previous inspection were purged from the forefront of my mind - only to be replaced by what was presently transpiring between my Duplicate, and a majority of the Foerosti Orbital Administration. It seems that whilst my attention was drawn into the past, my Replica carried on and went through the various gestures of professionalism and gratitude.

He graciously thanked the Foerosti for their hospitality, and shook each of their Representative’s hands as they introduced themselves. Had I not allowed my Replica’s some form of autonomy whilst they were deployed, the situation that I would’ve been returning to would’ve been embarrassing. Especially since I’ve spent many years hiding the truth about my synthetic origins. One wrong move, or a moment of ill-fated luck, and everything I was working towards would’ve crumbled before my very eyes.

Thankfully, centuries of study and subtle technical advancements allowed me to… shall we say predict my own shortcomings, and establish several safety nets in order to keep my secrets my own...

 

[Mohina Sioran]

Objective III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot
Coruscant // Galactic City
Senate Chamber // Grand Convocation Chamber
Tags //
Emmen Tagge Shute Gunray Maou Julius Loghain

The Zabrak looked upon the floor of the Convocation Chamber as the bloated Neimoidian introduced his bill of his fellow Corporatists. Kael had long pondered the implications of the Alliance starting up a large-scale military effort, especially at this point and time. Once Shute was done, Senator Sazen brought his pod forward.

"Honorable Chancellor, Prakith seeks recognition." He gave a respectful nod to both Chancellor Tagge and Senator Gunray before speaking clearly, "The esteemed gentleman of Caamas talks of creating an economy, when he proposes the creation of shipyards for a war in which we have yet to raise a fist towards." He paused to think on his next words carefully.

"As stewards of our respective worlds, and of this Alliance as a whole, we must take our next steps carefully." He cautioned, "We must reflect on our predecessors to guide the future. Look at what became of the Old Republics, when they focused their efforts to war. Remember the old stories of a Republic turned Empire when it allowed a war to grasp its focus away from dark puppeteers pulling the strings."

He folded his hands, turning his pod in order to look at every single senator that was assembled this day.

"Yes, there are some of us that look with hesitance towards this proposal." He noted, "But that hesitance is not unfounded. Senators, I implore you to think of the consequences this will lead us...Prakith yields the floor."

 

[Westenra Mina]

The Zabrak imitated the slouch of bent posture from long work shifts as Westenra opened the door, smiling. The Zabrak gulped, trying not to gawk as he stayed in character.

"Pardon me, I'm a safety technician. There's a problem with the Refresher's and they want me to check the piping for signs of erosion. Won't take but a minute.

Westenra stared, glancing him over with bright pink eyes, a hint of purple at the center of her pupils. Her curvaceous figure slinked backward in an unnaturally precise manner.

"By all means, take your time." Westenra said with a smile.

The Zabrak smiled. "Much obliged."

He actually felt bad he was gonna have to kill her. She was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. But he was being paid a cool million to disintegrate her. Some of the former slaves felt different about her efforts. Some lobbyists also. Strange how that had ended up intersecting.

Westenra had been setting up tea for her guests. Nothing could be out of place. It was fine Atrisian Tea Sets, the tea scent so strong it filled the room.

The Zabrak headed into the restroom, avoiding straying into areas where the room's cameras would have gotten a good look at his face, and fixed a prototype alarm jammer to one of the pipes. The output was boosted by an illegal handheld battery that produced far too much power to be considered practical for civilian use. That would suppress the weapon detectors for a short time. He would have to work quickly after she was dead. Her assassination was only part of the mission.

(The Sorcerer's Apprentice-conducted by Leopold Stokowski plays)

He did some last second checks as he prepared. The Jammer was working. The Micro-Det charge in his watch contained a synthesized tasteless, odorless, absolutely poisonous compound would take care of the ones she was meeting.

He quietly removed the disruptor pistol from the tool box. Due to silencing modifications he only had one shot. That's right, everyone. He was gonna go full Christopher Lee.

The Zabrak took a peak. Westenra was sitting in her chair, facing away from him, reading a magazine.

He quietly took out a small, black datapad from the tool kit. Stolen Imperial Tech, taken off one of their spies he had gutted. It quietly hacked the local camera feed to replay the same image over and over. He then pulled out a small, boxy, pager like device. A sound dampener that would muffle the sound of the disruptor being fired.

"Well that about does it. Thanks for your patience..." he trailed walking towards her, clicking the dampener at the last second.

Westenra wheeled around faster than he could blink, swatting the pistol out of his hand and kicking him so hard he was flung backward, the sound dampener tumbling from his hand.

Years of training made him leap back up, just in time to start parrying the punches and kicks that came fast and furious from Westenra, counter attacking with his own but each blow that connected with his ribs was like a blow from a boxer, and he was soon relying on all his training just to keep her from pummeling him into a coma.

He ducked a swing and as the next one came at a breakneck speed, he grabbed his right thumb, yanking.

A concealed fibercord in what was revealed to be a cybernetic hand caught her arm. He flipped her after quickly twisting it around her wrist and she was slammed into the ground as they continued to fight in near total silence due to the radius of the dampener.

Trying to keep her on the ground was like wrestling a wookiee. No matter how many times he kicked while keeping her arm restrained, she seemed to recover. He spotted his pistol nearby. One chance. He missed it she would break him.

He tapped the emergency release hidden in the wrist of his cyber-arm. She yanked free in surprise as he dived for the pistol.

Westenra sprang for him but was too late. He fired right as she was inches from reaching him, having thrown off his disconnected arm in a mad final attempt to reach him.

Westenra's mouth opened in shock and horror a split second before the shot connected, chewing through her flesh and atomizing it in a microsecond.

Bruised and battered, the Zabrak stood up, going over to his arm and reconnecting it, retracting the cord into his cyber hand.

He removed the watched, twisted the watchface in a semi circle to arm it, then placed it under the table where the tea set was, detaching one of the straps. That contained the electronic trigger.

The Zabrak stood up, going over for the dampener and shutting it off.

What he didn't know however, was that literally minutes before he had entered the room, Westenra, leaving nothing to chance, had hidden a little surprise in an air vent.

It was a little stasis capsule, containing a finger Westenra had cut off while in her stealth form. Attached to this capsule was a small, gamma ray lamp and a heartbeat monitor that triggered the lamp upon detecting the previous Westenra's death. It emitted high intensity rays that saturated the tissue...and it began to expand...slowly, even while he removed the tech jumpsuit and the armor to reveal a waiter's outfit.

It leaked out of the capsule, dark and mollasses like as it slithered through the ventfalling to the floor in a dark stream that piled together in the restroom, reforming into a Stealth-Guise Westenra...just as the Zabrak walked into the room, gawked at the bronze skinned woman in the skintight yellow leotard and boots in surprise.

He was just about to throw a punch when she lunged, cupping a hand over his mouth as she sank her fangs into his throat, drinking his energy, skin rippling. He was soon unconscious and she was dragging the waiter, who she knew on instinct to have killed the other her, given the smell of her blood on his shoe in micro amounts into the bathroom for interrogation...

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective II - Beneath the Sadow of Doom
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer
JTSP // Maynard Treicolt
Creepy sounds



They’d all split up. Alliance personnel all entering the downed starship at different points. GADF and..Jedi. Mostly Jedi. There were probably enough space wizards on board the vessel to make the Rakghouls break into an uncomfortable sweat. Despite the discrepancy in entrances, their objectives were shared. Salvage which members of the crew that could be found, and discover the damned holocron. Their comms and the mission were the only thing that linked them in this devilish place.

Well, that and likely the shared experience of the toothy horrors that patrolled the corridors and if those horrors had any success….everyone would have way more in common than they’d like. That’s the fun thing about high contact viruses. Really spreadable.

This was bad. This was so, so, really, awfully, truly and terribly bad.

Beyond the cursed rakghouls, the shadows that stretched through the hallways felt like they had their own mass, burdened with the miasma of the darkside’s influence. It was basically breathing down her neck, the same sort of influence she’d felt in the Netherworld, stretching over the Field of Blades. It was a good thing she and Amea Virou weren’t paired here to influence one another.

It hummed in a direction that Outrider followed well before Allyson Locke ’s upload of the security feeds. She realized this when her HUD indicated the sync between their comms. The blonde supposed she might have cause for concern, but for all intents and purposes he was helpfully cutting a pretty straightforward bee line to the core of the ship where the mystifying pyramid was allegedly contained.

The sting of her blade sizzled through outstretched claws, and her two handed grip assured enough strength to cut through the bone before being forced to back pedal and give herself more distance from the trio of demons that seemed to be travelling together. She trusted the Knight at her side to make short work of the other while she tried to make shorter work of the pair ahead of her. There needed to be more space to guarantee less biting and clawing. A crackle of energy gathered around her gloved hands, and burst out to consume the creatures that glistened in random bits of flickering light. Golden tendrils gathered around it, sizzling and flaring against their skin before they were brought to their knees. The lightning itself wasn’t potent enough to kill, but the barriers constructed around the creatures to contain the current compounded it’s strength to make it an electric prison. A two-hit combo similar to what she’d used on Darth Alekto –– except this time, she’d had to curry Electric Judgement’s favour instead of just leveraging Alekto’s blasts.

There were a few series of similar encounters. Chalked up to flurries of bladework, Force tricks, and general just...running brought them to skidding to turn another corner, a pant heavy on her breath and she took a second to re-centre herself and peek backward to ensure that they’d indeed slipped past the children of Sith. Or they were cut down enough to not be a concern.

There was a scream and a series of heavy, echoing thuds from somewhere beyond her visibility and she craned –– stretching her senses out searchingly. Those distant noises were drowned out by the white noise of creaking and groaning and ominous murmurs.

<Did you hear that?>

The pathway ahead of them was aglow with promise and...wretched lines scratched into the sides of the ship. Loske frowned, peering at the ruby, thrumming veins. On closer inspection the scrawls would reveal they were carved to replicate code from old tongue. Several generations ago, to the point now where trying to interpret the etchings would take a linguist...or at least several, concentrated hours. For those that could not read the words and their intentions, they whispered. The beat of the delivery matched the pulsing of the light. Some areas swelled with more brilliance than others, as if one could follow a conversation all the way to an ominous looking doorway. Loske didn't know the ancient tongue, it was just harsh on her ears, but she was enthralled with the rhythm of the delivery and it mirrored the suggestive inclinations of a the ancient Sith Temple she and her late Master had unearthed on Coruscant’s true crust. It was from that experience she knew these were old Sith runes, ancient and unstudied.

<You’re giving Buddy a run for his navigational money.> The blonde murmured, doing her best to avoid the harrowing sensation of their location. <If this Sith scribble is any indication, this looks as it as it’s probably gonna get.>

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //
// OBJECTIVE // Beneath The Sadow Of Doom
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt
Armor | Saber

S U P E R B U G

That shimmer of cobalt cut through the errant sithspawn's chest just as Loske managed to dispose of the other pair in a crackling burst of lightning from her finger tips. Her tapping on the pulse of abilities associated only with the dark side combined with his frigid brutality regarding these creatures. They were manifestations of dark malfeasance, sure. But Maynard's faint grasp of darkness was no stranger to his surrounding retinue of confidants within the fledgling but growing New Jedi Order.

He'd yet to cross that point of no return, yet to explicitly act in a way that was unjustifiable as a Jedi but all the same, it made others wary. Ryv let his worries over it flow out to Loske who passed back to Treicolt himself. As confident as he was that he'd never see himself breach that intangible threshold, cross that indiscernible filter. There was...an attempt to keep Maynard away from this specific assignment for a plethora of reasons but with Loske's assignment to the task it was difficult to justify sending him elsewhere.

After all, he seeming had a strong subconscious and intangible attraction to the force artifact buried within the depths of this sunken hulk. The pair might have been one of the first to reach the holocron at this rate. For better or worse.

<"I think you're probably right..."> He muttered, voice behind the thin layer of distortion brought on by his helmet's commlink. He could feel it, almost reach out and touch it through the force if only to see it shimmering within a dark cloud of ashen distortion around it. Not all too unlike when he had to feel out for Alekto within the Vong bio fleet at Pabol Hutta. With his blue saber still held in its superheated ignition he led the pair through the corridor lined with the Sith runes. He couldn't explicitly read each symbol only feel for the direction they seemingly led him in, peeling back the battered skin of his mental armor as he had many times before to make himself vulnerable and impressionable to the darkness again ; hoping it might lead them to their goal finally.

<"No- no you're definitely right. We're not far off at all."> Outrider admitted outright, reaffirming her assumption.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

// Counting Bodies Like Sheep //
// Shadow //
// Foerost / Depths of the Star Destroyer //

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The high brought on by the abominable mixture of adrenaline and the whispers of the dark side had morphed any sense of linear perception. Instinct, fear, and desperation were all that remained of what was once a measured and collected consciousness. Every stroke of his saber, every step of his feet, every decision no longer driven by a reactive and analytical perspective. Instead, it was all just a primal dance choreographed by the desperate desire to survive, with the invisible hand of the dark side tugging the marionette and indulging in the pain inflicted by every strike. The screeching of rakghouls, the drone of the saber, it was all a blur beneath the rhythmic pounding in his ears.

A creature dives forward, Zaavik leaps gracefully above it. The twin-blades twirl beneath his trajectory, hissing drone sounding off, cauterizing ghoul after ghoul. A clawed swipe comes from behind, the sense of danger tingles, Zaavik ducks. Virisdecent plasma arcs in a wide circumference, sundering shanks leaving them little more than seared, fleshy stumps. More came, a collective feral charge surrounded him, closing in second by second crawling by at a surreal snail's pace. His needs popped upright, sending him into the air. His momentum changed at his ascension peak, pulling himself downwards with the force he careened downward back to the horde of sithspawn below.

Rakghouls were squashed beneath his plummeting fury. With a rumble, a residual wave of force energy shot out in every direction from his point of impact. The ripple shoved the remaining mass of ghouls away, sweeping them off their feet and sweeping them up in the metaphysical current. His head pounded, falling in rhythm with the pulse in his ears. Staggering, panting, sweating, he flourished his twin-bladed weapon and re-entered a combat stance. It was sluggish and half-asked, teetering on the brink of total exhaustion. The ghouls regained their footings, creeping forward to assault once again.

Even the most minuscule lapse in form would spell his end. As the savage beasts closed in, the dance continued yet again. Dazed and reeling, Zaavik continued to duck, dodge, cut, and strike. Every motion wore him further, becoming more and more lethargic. An assault from behind, he turned, the emerald plasma smiting down the assailant. Another swipe from the left, his heels anchored, shoulders pivoted-

PAIN

Flesh sundered beneath claws. Smooth walls of flesh split open and opened the floodgates of life-ichor which sprayed through the air. A small correction in his stance and a swing avenged his pain with violent rebuke. More death was caught by the watch of his peripheral vision. He began to turn, but his forcefully languid reaction wasn't enough.

PAIN

Shoulder, chest, back, all flared up beneath she sharp daggers of a rakghoul's bite. His weapon found its way behind him, bisecting the attacker and releasing its beartrap-like grasp. He took a step forward, falling as his right foot failed to find quarter. He sent himself into a roll, working with the momentum of his failure and narrowly avoiding another chomp. He crawled desperately several paces. Rolling onto his back, and extended foot sent a diving rakghoul over him and landing head-first onto the cold metallic floor beyond. The pain within his body seared with a malicious fury. The end was approaching.

Pushing off with one foot, musting all the energy he could manage through the force he dove forward. He threw his weapon in a wide arc, whirling across the makeshift arena, cutting through braces and supports with a screaming hiss. Metal structures, scaffolds, and auxiliary machinery collapsed before him. He lay against a wall, trapped in a small compartment surrounded by metallic rubble. The rakghouls scream and growled, reaching their limbs through the gap in a dogged attempt to reach him. Zaavik's eyes glanced down and he reached for the rakghoul serum that he'd carried in. Pulling up the vial, it remained merely a husk of what it once was. Shattered. Wasted.

Blood began to pour from his eyes.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Save the Padawan //:
//: Within the Star Destroyer //:
Zaavik Perl

Memories seared through her mind, forcing her to remember each detail. She walked down the hallway, with the weight of her guilt in the forms of her dead parents. Allyson felt fourteen again, holding the lifeless husks of the people that raised her, the people that she had run away from thinking she knew better for her. That guilt hung on her shoulders heavily. Her memories played out, and she could smell the death and the fresh soil on her hands as she buried them in the unmarked grave. The promise to return and give them a proper burial. ​

​

She had never gone home after that. As the darkness closed in on her, another image opened her mind. Zaavik. His pain was felt through the Force, and her guilt shifted. Her mind instantly snapped out of the haze of pain that the dark shadows pressed upon her memory. Again his voice echoed in her mind, crying out as he was alone facing the monsters that lingered in the ship. Her once heavy feet, lightened with determination, moved through the vessel zeroing in on his location. From his last check-in, he wasn't too far from her. ​

​

Not another soul was going to be lost on her conscious. Climbing into the vent, he crawled down she followed until she found the hole that he had fallen into. Staying in the vent, she swung her bow forward and loaded it with one of the explosive arrows. Each arrow outfitted to fit her specialty with the weapon and mechu deru. The arrows were equipped with a small chip that the Jedi could control with the Force. With it armed, the arrow knocked into the string, and she took aim at the center of the pack that was gathering.​

​

As she focused, images flashed quickly - but instead of her family, she was met with other memories. ​

​

A younger Allyson stood with a large Dathomirian man. He was speaking to one of the cartel receivers for the spice they had just arrived with. In the distance, Allyson noticed a small Zeltron child - alone looking famished. Tilting her head, she wandered forward with food and a drink that she had been saving for her lunch. Kneeling down till she was eye level with the child, she offered him the food. He was scared, but the desire for food won him over. A soft smile and quick exchange of looks and the boy was off as he shoved the food down his throat. Allyson returned to Ember's side, watching and wondering why the boy was on his own. His face forever burned into her memories. ​

​

The arrow whistled through the air, cutting through one of the rakghouls and sticking to it until the small explosion went off. The ship shook slightly, but Allyson was already taking aim with another arrow. It too sailed through the air, then exploding on contact in the middle of another pack of rakghouls. The explosions were capable, thinning the large pack to a few stragglers that seemed to already be injured from the blasts. One more arrow exploded early this time as she used Mechu Deru to force the shaft to explode over the last large pocket. ​

​

Explosions shook the building, it was the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant. War had broken out across the Galaxy, and nowhere was safe anymore - not even the magnificent temples of the Jedi. A young woman ran down the hallway, remembering what the dying Jedi had told her about the temple. As she ran, several troopers in armor followed her, lead by a Sith Lord who called out to her telling her the horrible things he was going to do to her. She didn't care, all she worried about was the younglings in a room at the end of the hallway. She just had to make it there, she had to find them and protect them with her life till they could escape. It didn't take long for her to round the corner and find the door that was barricaded. Allyson did her best and wormed her way into the barricade and shut it behind her. Resting her back against the wall, she looked upon the frightened faces of the children.​

Seeing the crowd thinned, she fell through the hole with her azure blade ignited. The hum of the saber silenced the late few rakghouls with quick and assertive strikes—each blow cutting through the monstrosities like a hot blade through fat. Black blood splattered everywhere, and Allyson shielded herself with the Force. She needed to get to Zaavik if he had been bitten the serum she had in her pack needed to be administered. Finally, the last rakghoul met its end at the tip of her saber. Feeling through the Force, she ran to where the boy was hiding. ​

​

With a last burst of the Force, she ripped the makeshift wall from between her and him. "Zaavik, it's me!" She moved forward and quickly injected the life-saving serum by stabbing it into his arm. To see her padawan like this, Allyson felt as if she ultimately failed the boy. Maybe it was the wrong choice to have a padawan assigned to her, she was too reckless, too dangerous for a student to follow. Her life and work didn't benefit a learner. ​

​

They were terrified, and Allyson was as well. She knew she couldn't stand up to the forces that were coming upon them, but she had to. The younglings all cowered in fear, but one. The Zeltron boy stood there with his small lightsaber and a look of determination on his face; nothing scared him, not the sith or impending death. Allyson looked at him and nodded. "You should hide, they're going to be here soon." The boy shook his head and brandished his saber. "I'm not scared of the Sith, I'm a Jedi - I'm going to protect my friends." A grin spread across her face as she felt the inspiration from the youngling. "Okay - let's do it together. What's your name? I'm Allyson" The boy smiled, giving her a toothy grin. "Zaavik!" ​

​

"Zaavik! It's going to be okay; we have to do this together - it's me, Allyson." ​

​

Through the Force, she tried to calm him down, she needed to heal him as the serum worked through his system. For the time being, they were safe, she had killed what seemed to be the rakghouls nest. Reaching out, she attempted to heal him while trying to keep her mind clear from the terrors that were scratched at her wanting to be released.​

​

 

[Julius Loghain]

Spoiler: I AM THE SENATE

Emmen Tagge
Maou
Sssar Taszzn
Shute Gunray
Raona Cadera
Corala Gethsverg
Adhira Chandra
Fable Solborne
Elayne Daklana
Westenra Mina
Ordon Trozky
Gat Tambor
Ido Bastra
Vonar Ardinn
Max Devern

OBJ III
HOLOPROJECTION TO THE SENATE
OFFICE OF THE LORD REGENT, KUAT

"Kuat seeks recognition." a hand rose, the other leaned on his walking stick. "Kuat completely supports the bill proposed by Shute Gunray . A strong military means a strong nation." Julius' head turned to Senator Mohina Sioran of Prakith. "Senator Sazen, we are at war with the murderous, psychotic Sith-Imperials to the north. On our southern border we have the Corporate Authorities of Denon which house, unopposed, terrible criminals who have already committed crimes and threatened the security on Coruscant - the Alliance's Capital."

"Right next to us slithering into the Core, once more unopposed, are the Confederates, a Zambrano collaborationist government and to the east, next to my homeworld of Kuat, we have the Silver Jedi who have a, historically, positive relationship with the Confederacy. We are in a constant existential threat from forces who seek the destruction of democracy, our core principle and idea, or would do nothing to stop it. We need a strong military to preserve our civilization from the barbaric regimes surrounding us."

"Kuat yields the floor."

Emmen Tagge

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective II - Beneath the Sadow of Doom
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer
JTSP // Maynard Treicolt
Violence​

Okay. Go in. Retrieve and contain the holocron, get it back to Auteme and the keepers. It should be relatively simple, save for the stress of the Sithlings crawling around. The holocron was an inanimate object to Jedi. Supposedly only those with the intentions of the darkside could leverage and open it.

Loske desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The pin-pointed perception that had drawn them here could only be attributed to Maynard’s unique ability to distinguish darkness amidst the chaos. Something they were dangerously exploiting, and the Kiffar was all too aware of the delicate balance her counterpart tread.

“Just so long as you don’t lose yourself either.”
“And I trust that. I do, and I..next time, if there is one where it has to come to that -- I really hope not---I don’t want you to have to deal with it, but I won’t get in your way. We’ve proven that doesn’t work.”
“But I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from having to get there.”

The volume of the murmurs increased as the glowing designs seemed to come to a pinpoint. Like a nerve cluster.

<In my experience, these things tend to be booby trapped.> Loske murmured, walking backwards down the hallway for the most part. The caterwauling of the roaming beasts not far away from their location. Time was of the essence for themselves and their friends. The sooner they could retrieve the artifact, the sooner they could get out of here. <I’m hoping the Rakghouls are the extent of that.>

What had been a doorway was damaged and borked, gnarled and twisted to be continuously ajar. Faint hisses pulsed from the seals, as it continued to attempt and resume closure to no avail.

Inside the room, it stretched the entire height of the fallen ship. A glorious makeshift tomb aboard the otherwise unimpressive vessel.

Before they’d deployed, Frank had given them a brief history of what the archives had on Darth Sadow. An alchemist and illusionist, who’d bested death by suspending himself for centuries in a catatonic state. Many of his manufacturing played with the mind, bending reality to his whim. So much so, that the blonde questioned the reality of the room they’d found themselves in. Was this a permanence imbued in the structure through dark orchestrations?

Hundreds of niches rose, level after level, one above the other with ornate intricacies. Sithlings had found some reprieve in it’s knolls, slumbering Rakghouls undisturbed freckled amidst the notches.

Dots of bright red light like fireflies swirled spiral patterns in the air, riding currents that Loske couldn’t feel. And in the centre, floating a meter above the floor was…..

The Padawan looked away, putting her hand on Maynard’s arm to steady herself. It was hard to look at directly, even with her protective visor. Hurriedly, her suit added layers to shade the brilliance. The margins of the space were bright without illuminating anything or casting shadows, sharp and terrible. And within the boundary, darkness swirled. It was more than an absence.

She could sense a structure within it, layers interpenetrating like shadows casting shadows. It throbbed with inhuman power, tidal, deep, and painful. Any steps further the pair took toward it, the blackness responded to them. It was as if she could see the spaces between molecules in the air, like the atoms themselves had become a thin fog.

To buy herself more time from approaching the room’s nucleus, she reached up to toggle the communications channel to the wider search party aboard the downed ship. How much of this was real? The sound of her voice was real -- she could feel it moving through her and into the comms.

The statement of their discovery would reach Ryv , Aldric, Craig YNWA , Ayra Lowe and Barr Vexos Allyson Locke and her Padawan, Zaavik Perl .

<Holocron’s location has been confirmed. We’ll secure it, but sharing our location just in case. Status on missing operatives?>

The last part loosely translated to: How soon can we get the heck out of here?

 

[Mina Praji]

Coruscant ll Senate Building ll Grand Convocation Chamber
Assist the Chancellor

Spoiler: Senate Tags

Emmen Tagge Raona Cadera Adhira Chandra Shute Gunray Maou Theo Vereen Julius Loghain Mohina Sioran

In pure white robes, the Praji heiress walked lockstep with the Chancellor and the other officers of the Senate. As always she was on her datapad, coordinating the appearance of the Chancellor and their staff in the chamber. However, the Praji family had a far more vested interest in today's debate than they normally did. "It may be time to rebrand the Populists, Emmen. They are pushing for rapid military expansion, while, yet again the Centrists are being cautious," she said as they entered the ante-chamber where the Chancellor's podium lie in wait.

"Populists have been pushing traditionally Centrist views for several sessions now with Centrists and their allies standing firmly against them. Military expansion would be seen as a provocation to many major influences in our region and we cannot afford to provoke the Confederacy or the Silver Jedi while trying to fight a war with the Sith." She was still typing furiously into her datapad as they took their place on the podium.

"Go for the ascent." Mina pressed a button on her pad and the ceiling opened above her as the podium rose into the chamber. She stood still as a stone beside the Chancellor, whispering into his ear about each Senator as they spoke, but when Julius Loghain finally brought up the Confederacy and the Silver Jedi, she leaned forward and pressed the button that activated her microphone. It was rare, though not unheard of that the least of the three Senate officers, the Staff Aide would speak during debate. The de facto parliamentarian, the Staff Aide traditionally only spoke on matters of fact rather than giving an opinion.

"The Senate is reminded that the Galactic Alliance has no hostile relations with the Silver Jedi Order or the Confederacy of Independent Systems," she read from her datapad in a matter-of-fact voice, interrupting all current debate. Her bright blue eyes shifted to Emmen briefly before she deactivated her microphone and returned to her place as a stoic figure beside the Chancellor.

 

[Craig YNWA]

Objective II
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer

​

The beast fell to the ground, still smoldering from the blaster shots that had ended its godforsaken life.

"Clear" announced Camo as he swept back out of the room and continued through the darkness with the others. They had only encountered a handful of the beasts now and Camo was under no illusions, so long as they had the numbers game they were safe, however, if those tables flipped... It didn't bear thinking about.

His mind wandered to some of the Jedi that had accompanied them originally, of course they were Jedi, they had these amazing abilities and for the most part an unerring confidence and aura, however, they had for the most part branched of on their own and Camo wondered what would happen to one of them if they stumbled upon a pack of these things. He shuddered. He wouldn't have swapped all the powers in the universe for numbers at the moment.

At that moment his concentration was taken away by their comms, it was Loske Treicolt updating them on the whereabouts of the Sith artefact and checking in on the missing operatives.

Camo noted what he thought was a hint of unease in the message, when he replied he spoke clearly and confidently "Got you loud and clear, it's a negative on survivors from our POV, updates coming your way when we have any" as he finished the message he felt a series of explosions from somewhere in the depths of this ageing tomb. Sounded like someone had indeed come across more than just a few stragglers.

"Moving! Keep your eyes peeled" he said, more to himself than anyone else.

 

[Auteme]

D O O M

Loske Treicolt | Open For Objective 2​

Auteme had avoided it for far too long, so it was much more difficult to dive into a language this quickly.

Unlike the many other Jedi who'd come to Foerost to contain the rakghouls and find the Holocron, Auteme had come along for her knowledge. As it was she couldn't offer much else to the mission. In the week prior she'd spent hours upon hours scouring the archives of the Coruscant Jedi Temple, the Silver Rest, and Peace station for information on the Sith language. It'd been difficult, but oddly enough she'd learned that quite a few Sith had pulled themselves away from the darkness and into the light side. There were many first-hand accounts and guides on pronunciation. In addition, some more practical and traditional Jedi learned the language to quickly understand the vocal components of spells cast by Sith sorcerers and to react accordingly.

Honestly she thought the language had a bad rap. The Sith species and its culture could be extrapolated from the language itself. The fact that it was an agglutinative language -- in which the smallest units of language, morphemes, were combined to create words, ideas, and sentences without ever changing the morphemes themselves -- led her to believe that the Sith were reasonably practical and accepting of a rigid order of things. This was matched by their caste society and acceptance of conflict. Moreover the lack of similarities between the Sith language and neighbouring languages was a good reminder of how xenophobic the Sith were. Equally important was how the language had not evolved much in the thousands of years since the Sith achieved interstellar travel. The current Sith were evil and dark, but she could respect their preservation of culture... aside from, of course, the changes brought by the Dark Jedi Exiles when they arrived on Korriban.

The only problem with learning it from second-hand sources was the forced simplification such that it could be taught to a reader or learner without the use of the native script. The script itself was simple yet quite unique. Auteme had only learned about it a few days ago, far from the mastery she might've hoped to achieve. Instead as she walked the halls of the decrepit Star Destroyer she held a notebook in her hand containing the Sith alphabet.

It took time, but she was patient.

"Nwûl tash. / Dzwol shâsotkun. / Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. / Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. / Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. / Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. / Wonoksh Qyâsik nun." The Sith Code was good enough practice. Most of the writing on the wall was that, though with occasional variations. Of course, Auteme didn't believe in the code, but it covered most of the morphemes of the language and she wouldn't waste an opportunity to improve her pronunciation.

The writing on the wall had been scratched in by claws and knives, painted in blood, or neatly printed by some left-handed writer. It mixed and flowed together in an odd way; at times Auteme felt that it had all been written by one person, even when the method of writing changed. Interspersed between the documented Sith codes were a few words here and there. She wrote down the individual words, wondering if they meant anything.

Wokun. Sith. Tsis. Tyûk. Odojinya. Kots. Saarai. Qorit. Dzwol. Hyol. Hâsk. Ja'ak. Na-hah ur su ka-haat. Su ka haru aat. Châtsoksh. Qo. Itsu.

The writings tapered off, so Auteme took a moment to review. "What if... hmm..." She took a second look, noting down how each word had been inscribed to reorder them into phrases.

She received three lines.

"Lead the Sith to us if there are any here for only the one blackest of Sith Lords
Has the strength to find the way and break my web
I exist only to be freed from my chains."

Auteme's stomach turned as Loske's message came through. They'd found the Holocron, but they didn't know what would happen if they went to take it. "Loske? Loske, are you there?" For whatever reason her comms unit was only getting static. The shadows seemed to creep closer to the light of her lamp. She couldn't wait. Guided only by the Force -- well, and Loske's position indicator -- Auteme ran through the Sith ship, desperately hoping that she'd make it in time.

And that she didn't run into any rakghouls.

 

[Westenra Mina]

Cern was halfway back to Westenra's apartment when he received a call on the limo's voice link.

He hit a button while piloting.

"Yeah, West?"

"Cern, be a dear, and head over to the suite I checked out in the Senate. Something terrible has happened."

Cern's stomach went queasy. Someone had forced Westenra to respawn at her last save point.

"I'm sorry to hear that, West. I'll be over there immediately."

He quickly made appropriate measures to turn legally and piloted back to the Senate. Westenra was always distraught at learning she now existed because a previous her was no more.

A few minutes later...

Security was out in full force. He couldn't afford to be seen with anything suspicious. They were scanning the vehicles. He'd have to find some way to explain away his equipment.

Cern got out the Gamma Ray Lamp, and a few capsules after opening the trunk, putting them in a med-kit and walking right up to the security counter, who immediately opened the pack and stared in curiosity at the lamp and capsules as he flashed his pass, which Westenra...the previous Westenra anyway, had purchased as a just-in-case measure.

"What's with the lamp. And what's inside these capsules?" The guard asked.

"Miss Mina has a rare medical condition that the gamma rays help with. The capsules are Vong products, they're used for treating pain by releasing a therapeutic healing field."

"Why didn't Miss Mina make Senate Security aware of her medical needs in case of an emergency?

"Miss Mina is highly embarrassed by her illness and does not wish to risk word leaking out..." Cern replied smoothly. "I would appreciate it if word of this didn't leave the desk."

The guard then noticed an electric shaver and what appeared to be a long, slender, silvery data cylinder. He scanned them. The Cylinder and shaver set off no alarms.

"What are these for?"

Cern leaned forward. "Her legs grow hair freakishly fast. She's never far from a shaver. Tell no one of this."

The guard nodded. "Head on up..."

Cern thanked him, zipped up the bag and headed up to Westenra's room.

He used the silvery pass to open the door, found Westenra in her psychologist form, her flesh altered to make it resemble her wearing a skintight silvery gown, hair in a ponytail, circling the tied up Zabrak wearing only underwear in the chair, clearly besotted. Her military-strength pheremones had flooded the air, and Cern had to struggle to focus on his task and orders.

"Ah, Cern. You're here. Such a good Familiar." Westenra greeted, gliding towards him, her curvy figure moving only as much as precisely as it needed to as she slinked to him.

"This Zabrak has been telling me the most interesting story. Apparently some former slaves are very much against the idea of increased Alliance military. Unfortunate." she remarked.

"Did he give names?" Cern asked, equally bewitched by her beauty and pink eyes.

"They were not that stupid, unfortunately." Westenra added before circling Cern once.

"He also had this under the table I was serving the tea on. Poison gas. Highly condensed and pressurized. A micron of this stuff could kill a dewback. Here is what I want you to do..." she trailed, folding her hands behind her back.

"Anything, my liege." he said back almost mindlessly.

"You will contact the representatives I was to meet with and reschedule the meeting. Then...we find someway of getting him out of here without raising questions."

"You think there are more assassins?" Cern asked, almost not concerned as long as he was bewitched by her beauty.

"Of course. They'll want confirmation I'm dead. There's probably at least one more assassin in case the first one fails. Maybe one after that also."

She bid him to follow with a single crook of the finger and he obeyed mindlessly, making his way to the restroom where the equipment lay.

"This is probably the only room in the Senate right now that's totally blind. Let's keep it that way." She spoke.

"Sure..." Cern droned mindlessly, barely able to think past her gorgeous figure.

"I removed his waiter outfit, put it on."

Westenra gave him the courtesy of waiting in the restroom while he changed clothes. Then the both placed the besotted Zabrak, bound and gagged in the tub.

Cern opened the 'Medpac', took out the shaver and data stick, unscrewed the top and bottom of the stick, placing it into a hidden port on the shaver, converting the items into a tranquilizer pistol. He then opened the Insulin case and removed the military grade tranq drug disguised as medicine, loading the syringe into the chamber. It wasn't just the villains who liked to go full Christopher Lee.

Westenra selected a silk handkerchief and a bottle of powerful amnestic from the kit.

"I'm going to draw their fire. You wait here. Guard him..." she ordered, kneeling and triggering the transformation process of turning back to her public face, afterward exiting the Suite, looking for anyone suspicious...