Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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There is No (Re)Doubt Of Our Effort(OS Redoubt Dominion)

Maira Varan

Guest
Anais would be standing in wait when the Son of Titan arrived.

Shrewd crimson orbs locked upon that of the Commander without a single twitch of emotion upon that stoic cerulean face. Where the soldier gave a terse greeting, Anais merely gave a curt nod. Flanking her side were two great examples of the Brask Oto's security droids; heavily armoured and with plenty of firepower.

It was after all, always a show between the Chiss.

She inclined her head, "Commander Kiran Vess, I take it your flight within the Redoubt went without much trouble?" Considering it was the Redoubt they were talking about, it was as close of a joke one was ever going to get from the devout Genetic Medical Researcher.
 

Alric Kuhn

Handsome K'lor'slug
[member="Ina'nai'sabosen"]

A steady stream of calm radiated from Kiran Vess, a sense of rightness in the world, a sense of well being and wholeness, as if everything was going to be alright. The strange skull-mask armor seemed to conflict with that idea, but as the three men stood there calmly there seemed to be no arguing with their intention.

Peaceful negotiation.

“It helps to have a map.” The Zeltron said quite flatly, no hint of amusement in his voice.

“I understand this station has been isolated for many years.” Kiran went on, no point in wasting time, the robots hated that. “Where is the rest of your crew? Your research team?”
 

Jorga the Hutt

When life gives you Mandos, make Mando'ade
Long before he'd adopted the cowled anonymity of Parash, it had become clear to him that the One Sith focused on very impressive armaments -- the Dark Blade dreadnoughts, primarily -- to compensate for a lack of talented, dedicated naval commanders. Their best people had other priorities. Now, as he watched the One Sith flotilla ape a formation designed (poorly) for an entirely different situation, that clarity resolved into both contempt and interest. Oh, his own life was in jeopardy, clearly enough -- this escort cruiser would take the brunt of various rebel Chiss firing arcs once the full engagement began -- but his interests transcended the personal. He contemplated whispering in the captain's ear, but the captain of an escort likely didn't have the weight to influence fleet-wide strategy. The Sith would probably still win today, but it would likely get fairly bloody, even with the help of the Primeval.

Perhaps the fates would conspire, the planets would align, and things would change. For the moment, barring circumstance, all he could do was build his resume as an adviser, and that meant focusing on this particular ship's survival. But then again, what was the old Prach'ett line? Something like 'Magicians have determined that one-in-a-million odds transpire roughly nine times out of ten.'
 
She looked him over, He was not to be trusted at all, but for the time being they had a common goal, and she would have to keep a close eyes on him. He looked like the type that would push his lightsaber through her back. " There can't be much more of this place left to clear. Maybe another 100 meters of hallway and the command bunker. If we move quickly we should be able to beat anyone else there." She turned and moved with renewed purpose, some of what she said was true, beating the others to the command bunker would make her look good, and hopefully someone would notice, but it would also prove t the shadow warrior that she wasn't someone he would want to mess with.


[member="Amaethon"]
 
Objective: Board and Destroy the Rebel Held Chiss Asteroid Base
Location: Asteroid Base


Explosions would fill the southern part of the base. The Crew Quarters, exactly where the Darth was heading, was close by. Panicked soldiers would be seen running around the hallways, as if away from something. Yet parts of their bodies would explode, causing more screams to fill the hallways then anything else. And yet the red man walked about calmly, raising his hand to the unfortunate souls who ended up in his path.

The explosions continued, as did the screams, until the Zabrak made it to the room he wanted to. With a grin, the man stepped in, raising a hand to the unfortunate souls within. They would cower in fear, their blue forms quivering before Ferus turned to leave them be. Shock filled their eyes as they patted themselves down, confused as to why they were spared. Until they started to glow. The screams would continue as Darth Ferus walked away, and an explosion to put the rest to shame erupted behind him.

This was a good day.
 
Amaethon smiled cruelly beneath his mask as he fellowed [member="Nyrrea Danton"] down the remainder of the hallway. He felt no other life in the hallway but them. Stopping before the sealed doorway into the command bunker, he sensed multiple being beyond the door. Turning to the Twi'lek, he gestured to stand ready and he ignited his lighstsaber. He thrust it into the durasteel and began to carve an opening.
 
Objective: The Outbound Flight project
Allies: [member="Vrag"] | [member="Jentara Vel"] | [member="Darth Venefica"]

Skeletons and bodies, decomposed, littered the scene as he followed the Sith Knight with a sort of lackadaisical demeanor. Picking up the calcified structure, absent flesh and sinew, he gouged the empty sockets with one hand as he nested the skull in the other. Shrugging, he tossed it to the ground in a plume of dust and debris. "I thought I asked you first..." He spoke absentmindedly, having noted her change in aura as he presented the question in the first place. It was obviously one thing to punch and maim and kill, but something far more difficult to explain.

Running slow pace into a wooden crate, Gabriel leaned forward and unsheathed a dagger, slipping the blade between the top and body and heaving upwards. With a simple clack and splinter, he slid his fingers in and yanked the wooden top off to reveal a mass cache of clear bottles, corked tightly, and filled with brown fluid. He suspected it was the rum but he would allow his fellow scavenger to plunder the goods first. While he waited, he sat down on an unopened crate near it and pulled the cigarra from the vest pocket, brandishing a match stick. With a drag of it's red phosphate tip against the makeshift seat, he pulled life into the brown cylinder, smelling of spices and cloves. He waved his hand slowly to the extinguish the flame, as his cigarra ridden hand lifted to scratch his brow.

"Change drives me...though great is hardly the appropriate word." He stretched a leaned against the metal sheeting behind the crate, pulling lazily on the cigarra, "In my endeavors, I long for a universe reinvigorated through fire, and freed from it's own weakness."
 

Maira Varan

Guest
[member="Alric Kuhn"]

Anais kept her hands clasped at her back, and while the question perturbed her, she did not show it. Instead, she replied merely with facts.

"On 647 ABY personnel of the Brask Oto left to inquire the status of our re-suppliers." She passively blinked, being quick to the point. "The Redoubt is a dangerous route to take without the proper coordinates and micro jumps in place. With the ever shifting variables, it was logical to determine if the Ministry of Intelligence and Science were aware of all the necessary pertinent information."

A pause.

"I remained behind to monitor our research."
 
Objective: Board and Destroy the Rebel Held Chiss Asteroid Base
Location: Asteroid Base



And yet, all good things must come to an end. Having completed his goal of destroying the crews quarters, he had little left to occupy himself. The other Sith and such would complete the destruction of this base without him. For, he had found something rather interesting. Having gone back the way he came, he saw a female Chiss, or what's left of her, still alive. Still breathing. She was of course out cold, and most of her body had been blown away. Yet she still clung to life.

Crouching down, the red man would lift up her torso, as her arms and legs had been blown off, and would take her body with him. He could use someone with such a high want to live. Though what he would do to keep her alive and useful would make her wish for death. At least at first. With a slight grin on his face Darth Ferus would move to exit the space station, complete with a new 'apprentice'.
 
With no response to speak of, the Host Lord's ship opened fire on the enemy formation. The blast of turbolasers and the singular might of the hypervelocity gun ripped the metallic hulls to shreds. What little resistance did remain was like the swatting of flies against the 1,600 meter armoured hull. Pieces of debris slowly pushed off of the bow as the dreadnought drifted towards her allies, if it wasn't clear now that The Primeval were there to help it would be soon.

"Now, send a message to their leader. let them know our fleet remains by their side.", she nodded to the Captain. With the message sent hopefully her Sith allies were aware that The Primeval would not forget their aid at Dantooine. An alliance forged in blood and fire, it was growing into somewhat of a special relationship...

Where would this take them? Where would they go? Together, there were few obstacles worth measuring.
 
In Umbris Potestas Est
[member="Reverance"] [member="Vrag"] [member="Darth Venefica"]

The droids soon reached the uppermost Dreadnaught, the result of such advancement being that they were able to maneuver around it. The roof was caving in, but the lower computer systems seemed to be mostly intact. The droids followed the hallways of the ship to the bridge, whose doors were shut. They were, however, quickly opened with the help of the droid squad, revealing a device located within the wreck that was still active - the ship's black box, so to speak. This device contained all the information regarding the flight path, intended and otherwise, of the Outbound Flight prior to its disappearance. The information had proven to be significantly copious in form and scope, and further examination with Emeritus computers, possibly even [member="SARI"] or one of the NASI AIs, would be needed in order to determine just how much information about flight plans was carried here.

That was for another day, though. For now, they sifted through the bridge, looking for anything they could find. A few worn datapads, some old blaster pistols and rifles, and that seemed to be it. Down the repulsor pad they came, and soon they would be out of the wreck for good. Good thing too...

That radiation wave was coming quite close.
 

Jorga the Hutt

When life gives you Mandos, make Mando'ade
[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

The Sith forces' commander acknowledged the Primeval dreadnought's aid as that hypervelocity gun turned the centre of the Chiss formation to shreds. To Parash's amusement, that left the Sith formation utterly unsuited to the task, though it attempted to restructure itself into a wall of battle. Derivative without sufficient practice. A wall was more than just points on a flat plane; it required a whole host of further considerations. Secure in the bridge of one of the escorts, Parach smiled grimly as this particular ship's hazard grew noticeably less. There was every chance he'd lose his life to fleet incompetence before he achieved his aims, but the Primeval assault had taken the heart from the Chiss rebel force; the Sith fleet was no longer on the precipice.
 
With a nod to [member="Amaethon"] She added her lightsaber to his own in cutting a hole in the door. It took only moments using two lightsabers, but it was long enough for most of the defenders to prepare themselves. The four Chiss soldiers were firing into the hole as soon as they stopped cutting. She allowed the initial barrage to subside before she dashed into the door, her saber catching several bolts and deflecting them away as she did. Their fear overwhelming when she walked in and she used it to help fuel her anger and rage, allowing herself to become one with her emotions again, It took almost no time at all for her to quickly cut down the first Chiss, and the second one was dead before the first one had even hit the ground. She was rage and pain, she was their fear personified in the body of a green harpy of death.
 
[member="Nyrrea Danton"] charged in, deflecting bolts and attacking with reckless abandon. Amaethon, on the other hand, formed a translucent purple barrier which the bolts bounced off of with his left hand whilst he sent one of the shooters flying into the back wall. As the Twi'lek moved in for the kill, Amaethon preceeded her by lifting the Chiss with both hands extended. He began to bend the blue female backwards as if on a wheel and as her vertebrae cracked, she screamed in agony.

The masked Acolyte gloried in the feelings of terror, anguish and excruciating pain. He held her there while he bent her slowly until she almost formed a perfect inverted 'u' shape. His smile was estatic and he laughed with joy as he brought his hands together. With a horrifying snap, the Chiss literally folded in half backwards. Her spinal cord severed, she finally was released into the sweet relief of death.

He sighed, contented like a man who had just made love and he gently laid the female down. Tilting his head back, he gloried a moment in the wash of emotions.
 

Vrag

The Second Seal, broken.
Objective: Get plastered
Drinking buddies: [member="Reverance"]
___________________________________________________________

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8Zs1xfxaq4​
The other Sith merely snorted in response to his half-hearted complaint, wondering if any of them would still recognize the concept of fairness. It was nothing more than an obstacle that those of weaker minds refused or failed to overcome. Honor. Ha! All it took was a glance at her surroundings, and the universe confirmed once more what Vrag long knew to be true; the Force helps those who help themselves. Countless bodies littering these corridors were palpable proof of that, and while some would label them victims, the woman simply called them for what they were; weak.

Her upper lip twitched in disgust, and she was glad to be pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Reverance smashing something again. With a small smile, the firrerreo approached the man, peering over his shoulder as he leaned forward to yank the lid off of the crate.

"Well, well," she whistled appreciatively as light filtered through the mites of dust swirling in the air, falling on the warm brown liquid inside the bottles. "Looks like your scientist was right," she murmured absently, and a hand reached forward as if of its own volition.

"Better see if it's worth dragging home, yeah?" Vrag said as she retracted her visor to lift the rum on eye-level. She rolled the bottle between her fingers, inspecting its contents with a critical gaze even as her companion sat down to destroy his lungs. She waved the thick smoke away from her face with an annoyed hiss and uncorked the bottle with a swift pull.

The armored Knight leaned back on the opposite wall as the Wrath spoke between lungfuls of poison, cocking her head to the side while she watched the amber fluid flicker in the light of the Redoubt cluster.

"Freedom, huh?" Vrag flashed him a toothy smile, sharp canines peeking past her lips. "I could use some of that right now…" the woman trailed off in favor of taking a hearty swig from the bottle, the muscles in her throat visibly shifting as she swallowed the alcohol.

"Feth. This crap is good," she pulled the rum from her lips, licking away the few stray drops as she offered the drink to her fellow mass murderer.
 
Objective: Searching for the truth of things...at the bottom of a bottle

Scratching his neck, he glanced with a dark sanguine eye, upon the visage of the women he had so often fought next to. In earnest, he couldn't recall a moment before this point in time where he had seen her face. It seemed to get stuck, his gaze, as he watched her down the drink, caressing the bottle as if a new lover, and listening to her speak words of quality and need. Squinting his eye, he smiled as he set the cigarra down and pulled a bottle from the crate to match her. With the knife scraping the neck, he persuaded the cork out, before downing a solid swig of the beverage. It was warm and soothing, both in the gut and the throat, and it's amber fluid carried hints of spice in the backseat.

"Yes, he has his moments, the good doctor..." He looked up towards the ceiling, a truth dawning upon tired expression. "At least...he says he's a doctor. I've honestly never checked his credentials. But he gets the work done, that's for sure." He had thoughts towards the development of a new vong beast, one that Vrag might actually be interested in, if her use of exotic weaponry was any inclination towards her desires.

"Freedom is a loose term in my diction, one used for the purpose of it's vagueness." He placed the bottle down on the ground and lifted his knee up, folding one leg over the other. "The Jedi have an affliction of weakness, tied to dogma that can not be uprooted. They must be cleansed and destroyed, freed from their own virtue. The reasons being that such weakness cannot be allowed to spread, through genetics or through instruction, they spread fragility through diatribes and pandering and woeful ignorance. I long to cure that deficiency with...absolutism." He spoke the last word in a bit of a drag, smiling at the notion that he couldn't possibly be wrong in his endeavors. The thought wouldn't even find foundation in a mind so cemented upon purpose, torn apart by it's duality and stitched back into a mixture of a beast and the man who would stop at nothing to contain it. A losing battle. "The weak and frail don't long for protection... they desire the feel of duracrete beneath their knees, as they bow to those more capable. It's a natural inclination and for those who can't accept it, they deserve mercy. And that mercy comes in the form of my wrath, freed from their own uselessness."

He picked up the cigarra and rolled it between his thumb and finger, studying it's physical properties, before staring back at Vrag, caught in the gaze of those blue nictitating eyes. "You have your rum [member="Vrag"], now tell me what you so desire...that you would climb into the ranks of the One Sith..."
 

Vrag

The Second Seal, broken.
Objective: ???​
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VIVSHOQboo​
She let out a short laugh, the scorching liquid catching in her throat as she covered her mouth. She leaned her head back with a jerk, glad for the helmet when she hit the cool metal behind her back. Her chest shook as she did her best to swallow the burning drink between bouts of laughter. Feth, the stuff was definitely strong. She wiped a small trickle from her chin with the back of her gauntlet, sweeping up with her thumb to discreetly smudge the unwarranted tears on her cheeks. Damn rum.

She settled more comfortably against the crate as the Sith Lord got to talking, too buzzed already to be surprised by the sudden onslaught of words. From what she'd seen and heard of the man, he valued action more than anything else; something Vrag could definitely get behind. She pulled one knee up to her chest, propping her elbow on it as she sipped from her bottle, head slightly cocked to the side. Her mouth was completely insensate by now, every nerve ending scorched to oblivion by the refined acohol.

"I don't know, Rev," she shook her head slowly, biting her bottom lip in thought. "Freedom might be a loose term for you, but that just means you don't know how to appreciate it." Her tone was as blunt as they come, but even when completely sober, Vrag would be hard-pressed to care about such things.

"Let me tell you a secret," she inched forward on her dubious seat, heedless of the dangers the movement might present. "You see, [member="Reverance"], I don't actually give a flying feth about all those fancy codes and robes and chanting," a toothy grin, "and whatnot."

"But hey," she gave him a casual shrug, leaning back again to drink deeply from her bottle, "this is the first time nobody's ever bitched at me for simply being who I am." She eyed the now empty flask, then glanced down at the whip hanging from her belt, then back again. "So you won't see me complaining," she finished rather absently, her shattered focus already on the excess rum. Well, as we all know, consumption of such substances can affect the ability to make sound, rational decisions, so instead of thinking it through, Vrag simply grabbed the tool and cracked it towards the rest of the bottles.

As expected, that didn't go so well.
 
The whip flung out from the woman's hand, tongue lashing out in a snap hiss as it struck a bottle of rum and sent the fluid flying out towards the Sith Lord from broken bottle. He raised his hand to call the force, but felt it's depletion through his very bones, and did his best to block the amber fluid from the swirling flesh covering sealed socket. Drip drop down his arm, he couldn't help but chuckle as he felt the splatter against vest, and rubbed his face clean. It was hard to get mad in this specific situation, but he wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe the rum was the culprit in this situation, maybe it was the company and change her mannerism. Either way, a half empty bottle was soon to become a full empty one.

"That's where you and I are alike, Vrag..." He pulled the cigarra to his mouth, avoiding blowing smoke into her face, as he tasted the combination of the leaf and rum. Nice. "I see the Sith as not a religious or codified choice, but merely a decision. Weakness...or strength. The Sith choose the ladder...er, latter." And while he felt the need to rebuttal her claims of his inability to appreciate freedom, he wasn't convinced that he could convey the argument properly in his state. Must have been a long time since he seriously drank, he didn't recall alcohol hitting him this hard in the past. Needed to up his game.

"When I was a child..." He took a sip of his rum as he scratched the swirling flesh over eye, before turning towards Vrag. "I had a Jedi for a mother and a vile scientist for a father. My mother abandoned me pretty early, leaving me to my fathers experimentation. Cutting, prodding, pulling..." He winced and shuttered, staring off vacantly. "So much blood..." It seemed when he got drunk, he didn't so much stumble over his words as he did jump full off the ledge. Tonguing his cheek, he swirled the bottle, sloshing the fluid back and forth. "He was convinced there was something..." He tilted his head, becoming more expressive, as he bared his teeth slightly and tapped his chest. "...Inside of me. Something worth cutting out. It was then that he told me that 'we all have demons, some of ours just take more digging.'" He jutted out his bottom lip, recalling a specific and pretty vivid memory of flaying. "I can appreciate what my father did...and I hate my mother for her indifference, even though she is long dead and turned to ash. The long and short is that we all make decisions in our life that have lasting consequences...and right now, my decision is to not buy your story of acceptance. There is more to it then that...and if I recall correctly, promises were made of some sort of truth, in correspondence with rum."

He was pretty sure it was rum, but if Vrag kept it up, there wouldn't be any left for the Good Doctor in the sky.
 

Vrag

The Second Seal, broken.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LUm-E4GPU8​


"Whoops."

Had this happened half a bottle later, the statement might have been followed by a disturbingly uncharacteristic giggle, but fortunately for both of them, Vrag wasn't quite drunk enough. Yet. She let out an undignified snort when her companion stumbled over his words, her sharp teeth gleaming in the light of a million stars. How disgustingly poetic.

The woman shuddered slightly, whether from the burn in her throat or the unwanted onslaught of sugary thoughts, she didn't know, but she was well past caring about such insignificant details at that point. "Ladder, eh?" she parroted, smacking her lips in with the delighted expression of a child who has just discovered their new favorite food. Or drink, in this case. "Yeah, I could do without the whole hiera— hairar—," she frowned, then gave it a dismissive handwave, "the whole… 'Holier than thou' thing. You know. So fething annoying. Ugh."

She chugged down a couple generous mouthfuls as [member="Reverance"] kept talking, but despite her change in demeanor and impaired ability to pronounce big words — something that didn't seem to affect the Sith Lord, how curious — the Knight was still coherent enough to follow what he was saying. Mostly, anyway. She got the gist of it, and that's all that counts in the end, right? Right?

Vrag was half-tempted to stick her tongue out at him and retreat in the safety of her bottle, but the rational, if currently endangered part of her mind managed to curb the impulse just in time. "Fine, fine," she allowed herself a wider smile than usual, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she found a more comfortable position on the crate. "Only because it's you."

"See, there was once this little girl," she started, wetting her throat with a hearty swig of rum. "And the only thing everybody ever taught her… was that she was… ah. Worthless." A quick, less amused smile. "Never had any parents, that girl. No mother… no father. Just the fist." Curt, humorless chuckle. "Or the shockstick, if he had a bad day."

"I never killed him, you know?" she spoke after a short, alcohol-laden pause. "The only regret I'll ever have," her voice grew harsher at the end, her lips curling up in a feral snarl even as her gauntleted fingers squeezed the neck of the bottle.

"It's why I don't let people tell me what to do, Rev," Vrag concluded with a half-hearted shrug, peering at him over the edge of her bottle. "Simple as that."
 
Nyrrea turned to look at [member="Amaethon"], her eyes weary. "I suppose we have finished our task here. Perhaps you'd care to get a round at the cantina?" Her voice didn't betray her fear but it was there, she wasn't sure what he would do. She sensed power in him, but he wasn't a dark lord. Most likely an acolyte, they wouldn't send a master to do this dirty work. I should know, they sent me. She laughed slightly at the irony of it all, still an assassin in the end, same job, new masters. The universe had a twisted sense of humor after all.

She looked around for anything of importance, seeing a data pad that was on a table, she reaches out and grabs it, hoping it would prove valuable to someone when this was all over.
 

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