Diplomacy Trouble on Tython [High Republic and the Alliance.]

[Westenra Mina]

Current Configuration: Stealth Form (See Bio)

Armed with: Psychic Katana

Objective: Tythonian Tales: Secure Ancient Font.


No one could accuse The Sith Empire of not having some serious brass.

After all, it requires a significant amount of...brass...to launch a special operation in the heart of enemy territory to steal the secrets of an ancient Tythonian Font...on the day of high level diplomatic talks.

Sleeper Agents, in place for months at small, relatively unnoticed positions on government staff, had conveniently booked passage to Tython under the Guise of hosting a charity for refugees, had all conveniently disappeared during the actual events, switched to Shadowsuits, Vibroblades, Repeating Blaster Pistols and Slugthrowers of various types, and quietly made their way into a barren valley close to a number of unholy shrines constructed by the One Sith during their defilement of Tython.

Much of the once lush valley was scorched black like volcanic rock, the remains of a twisted black tower lain half toppled at the beginnings of the desert beyond.

A smuggled Stygium Stealth Drive aboard a nondescript Republic shuttle had given them some minor cover. The mission was simple. Recover the precious secrets within the font chamber, then destroy it so the pathetic High Republic could not claim it.

They filed out of the shuttle, knowing each other only in secret meetings, Rebreather equipped masks completely concealed their faces in the dusk hours planetside.

The entrance to the ancient chamber had a staircase carved from the rock of the land itself. It was concealed in a small out of the way area invisible from above. It had taken them months to uncover the location, built during the Gulag Plague.

The team kept an eye out for lethal threats as they approachex the entrance. Tython was by no means safe.

But it was not local threats they would have to worry about...

The Leader fished out an antique, ornate silver key and fitted it carefully to the ornate lock, turning it clockwise...

(Zelda Unlocking Theme Plays)

The ancient stone door slid open, and the team was greeted to a massive, ornate chamber of ancient rune writing on the walls, inlaid with gold while a font rested at the center, a stone fountain shaped to resemble the playing organ in a cathedral, with angelic faces sculpted into it. The seal of the Rebel Alliance Starbird symbol lay at the center of the inactive device.

Surrounding the chamber were a number of shelves, all filled with scrolls or other relics.

They immediately began going over to catalogue the finds, as well as began to examine the font. Everyone was so busy securing that old space station they barely had anything for the surface.

Emphasis on the word 'barely'.

Something dark and molasses-like slithered out from a deep crack in the stone floor of the entrance as the team silently went to work. It retrieved a sword hidden over the archway to the entrance by growing a tentacle out of its mass as it took the form of a curvy, athletic woman with dark brown hair and bronze skin, appearing clad in a yellow and black leotard and skintight yellow boots and gloves. The creature blinked pink eyes as it silently walked in while their backs were turned. They did not turn until she coughed loudly.

She was already secreting hyper powerful pheremones.

"Please do not resist. I would dislike having to harm any of you. Can't we be friends?" Westenra the artificial psychic vampire (Yeah, put that chit on a business card.) asked.

Her body was riddled with bullets from suppressed weapons. Each operative had pheremone blocking implants.

Her body leaked bright, glowing red blood after she had been shot repeatedly, parts of the skeleton exposed.

To the operatives collective horror, the wounds started to be sealed rapidly...

Westenra looked at them, suddenly very sad as she drew her blade.

"Guess not." she glowered, charging into them...

 

[Gat Tambor]

"Hmmm...well I suppose by now my contracts with the New Imperial Order and the Sith Imperial 'Apostacy' are no secret. I am playing an integral role in...helping establish the economic and manufacturing apparatuses of the New Imperial Order. Though of course, I do hope this does not harm the very cordial and mutually beneficial business relationship that the Technoid Manufactorum has with the Galactic Alliance. Afterall, business is business." Tambor says in reply to the Admiral's initial inquiry, operating an impressive amount of speech before his vocoder malfunctioned again.

"UWEERERERRRREEEE- yes, the Vicelord's Executive order has made conducting business with the Confederacy...less than desirable. With every Confederate contract a long staying one, I've found all my buyers to be foreign entities in customers such as the Alliance. The increased government overreach and protectionism has forced my hand in...resigning my seat as Viceroy and thus I am seeking to move my business assets elsewhere. " The Skakoan said, not at all ruling out making the Tambor Holdings Group a completely Alliance based organization. Though the contract with the New Imperial Order's armed forces was by far the most profitable one, basing his company in Nirauan meant highly valuable assets close to a hot front.

"But yes, consider myself an interested party in this project." The Skakoan iterated, at the mention of Otto Shule, Tambor's eyes widened behind the thick pressurized goggles as he tapped the tips of his fingers against one another with a nod.

"Is that so? I've been eager to meet him face to face. I'd lie if I said I didn't admire the Republic Engineering Corporation's product line - in my eyes some of the best military technology that is impartially available to the Galactic consumer. I'll be eager to meet him myself." Tambor said, characteristically eager to compliment the fellow war profiteering business executive. There was only one way to the cold heart of the Skakoan foreman. And that was technology, his one and only passion and he was not so prideful as to neglect the inspiration or implementation of the work of other innovators in his own product, making heavy use of the designs drafted by Darth Empyrean of Jaeger Solutions.

---

Cassius Callaesar | Saga of Valour | Raona Cadera | Vonar Ardinn

 

[Allyson Locke]

Allyson grinned as the younger blonde tried to explain herself out of the hazing that typically found within squadrons. Loske always wanted to feel what it was like in the Rogue Squadron of old, and she was her chance. The Corellian looked at her comm device as Loske listened to her poor droid explain what a wedgie was. Seeing that Loske didn't know what a wedgie was, Allyson wondered how sheltered the woman was. ​

Sighing softly, Allyson folded her arms in front of her and looked at her squadmate, hiding behind her droid. "Oh, Loske. It's something we all went through. As a surviving member of the Rogue Squadron, I need to make sure that this tradition upheld." Moving closer to the droid and Loske, Allyson looked down at it and raised an eyebrow. The droid had an uncanny familiarity to it, and Allyson knew who the maker was. Her devilish grin, softened as she looked at it. "Cute droid." As she finished, the droid was quickly and efficiently under her influence through mechu-deru. ​

Frank turned his little head towards Loske and charged at her using his droid body weight against her. The droid fueled with the Force, and Allyson wandered over and stood near the trampled padawan. Having the Force shift, Loske would suddenly feel the burn. ​

"It's tradition, and you understand, right? Also best not to hide behind a droid against a Mechu-Deru specialist, especially one made by her." ​

Allyson smiled sweetly with her arms cross in front of her chest. ​

Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Seela Khaan ​

 

[Republic Engineering]

With tensions mounting between the supposed superpowers that dominated the stars, the safety and security of one's delegation were paramount. To that end, Sigma Squad was tasked to assist the varied details that accompanied the myriad representatives. While Gideon wasn't fond of playing babysitter, yet again, the man couldn't refuse a direct order. He took his gripes and locked them away as his helmet was locked into place. There would be a time to voice his grievances later, but for now? He had the minutiae of an ever-expanding protection detail to concern himself with.

The Commando stood aboard the refurbished station, with his hands folded atop one another, and pressed against the small of his armoured back. His eyes were busy dancing from one holographic screen to the next, looking for the details that were missed by the dedicated security detachments who were screening new arrivals. He couldn't recall how long he stood there, staring at the screens, but his armour's chronometer kept track - threatening to steal his attention away as it counted every second and displayed the numbers on his visor. His muscles ached with inaction, and the Commando's body seemingly rebelled against itself - as small microtremors were rippling through his straightened legs.

Yet, Gideon refused to give in. He wouldn't fail in his duties again.

Feeling tears begin to well up in the corner of his eye, the Balmorran finally gave in to his body's demand for movement. He shook his head and tore his seemingly vigilant gaze away from the screen before him. Blinking away the welling sorrow, Gideon moved about the refurbished command centre and refocused on the central hololithic display. Nothing was out of order. At least, that's what the screen registered. Through his training as a Commando, and Instruction by the Sun Guard, Gideon noticed that there was something odd. There was a Charity Event of Sorts transpiring on the surface of Tython - which no-one thought was out of place. Let alone the supposed festivities happening below.

However, it was the Charity event that caught his eye - as there were reports of several individuals missing from the gathering. They were supposedly low-level positions that would've gone unnoticed, but on a day like today, with security as tight as it was? His suspicions were aroused, and as he tasked a Security Detail of Battle Droids to check it out - that suspicion spread to others, who began to dedicate themselves to filling in the blanks regarding this anomaly. They could've been sneaking off to have personal time with one another, or they could've been seeking to escape the stuffy atmosphere of their Charity Event. Regardless of their reasoning, it was - in his eyes - a breach of containment protocol.

They weren't safe amongst the wilds of Tython, and it would've been a dereliction of duty to let them vanish without putting together a search team.

What made matters worse was the report of an unauthorized Shuttle launch from their secured landing zone. If those people were genuinely dedicated to messing with the established measures of security - then they'd face the consequences. Should his dispatched team arrive too late, the wilds of Tython would have their way with their newfound prey. If they arrived on time, thanks to the transponder signal that wasn't deactivated in the 'hijacked' Republic Shuttle, the people would likely be safe. Sure, they'd be clapped in binder cuffs and redirected back to the established safe zones but -

"Sir, that Shuttle just vanished off our scopes."

Gideon swivelled about, locking his visor onto the technician that spoke. ​

"What do you mean vanished?"​

"It must've cloaked, Sir. The transponder signal has gone dark too."

Dipping his helmet momentarily, the Commando pondered what this could've meant. Surely it must've been a disruption in their sensor network. The weather on Tython wasn't always bright and sunny - especially in the Scarred sections of the world that were still recovering from the horrors afflicted upon it by the One Sith. However, there weren't any notable sensor anomalies reported. That shuttle cloaked, just as the technician said. His mind honed in on the words he had wanted to say since that damned shuttle took off into the horizon and vanished from their scanners.

"Get a flight of Starfighters down there to secure the area, and send a Gunship to collect the Security Detail."

"I want those people found and brought in for questioning."​

| Westenra Mina |​

 

[Saga of Valour]

\\ Otto Shule //
[ Republic Engineering Representative ]
​

As far as the Duplicate could tell, the talks were proceeding well. The representatives from various systems were gathered under one roof and exchanged pleasantries with one another. That alone was a rare feat, as most systems within the Deep Core and Core Regions respectively once embraced Warlordism and would’ve likely stabbed each other in the throat, rather than share cocktails and plans for a unified future. Otto was impressed, to say the least. Not only had everyone been seemingly on the same page, but there was also an unspoken notion of excitement that rippled through the crowd. Their collective hearts beat in tandem with one another. Perhaps, things would be different this time.

The Duplicate smiled. Regardless of whatever transpired this day - his company stood to benefit from their combined endeavours. The more star systems that piled into the distant dream of the reconstituted Galactic Alliance would demand a better equipped Defence Force to keep them safe from the echoes of the past, and the horrors of the present. More likely than not, they’d turn to the Republic Engineering Corporation to provide this newest iteration of the Galactic Alliance Defence Force with advanced arms and armour - as well as starfighters and capital ships. Adding in the possibilities of including themselves in this new hyperlane project? Republic Engineering stood to gain access to new markets and even garnering new customers - which would see their stock prices soar to new and incredible heights.

When the Replica Droid brought a flute of Champagne to his lips, the cunningly disguised photoreceptors caught sight of two interesting individuals casting their collective gaze in his direction. According to the standards of Social Interactions - Otto assumed that they wished to speak with him - likely regarding the Alliance’s newly announced project, or Republic Engineering’s recent successes.

Regardless of what they wished to converse, it would’ve been perceived as rude to have ignored their invitation and simply milled about with the fawning masses. Whilst he proverbially cut a swathe through the teeming masses of representatives filling the Central Hub, the Duplicate did his best to answer whatever inquiries they approached him with. Some begged for his attention to press the flesh, and he obliged them for but a moment - gracefully excusing himself after bequeathing a firm handshake. Others asked what was next for the Republic Engineering Corporation, and the man simply offered them nothing more than a coy smile and a simple phrase.

“You’ll see.”​

After finally breaking free of the organic masses, Otto came to stand before the two who caught his eyes from across the room. He greeted them both with a smile and made the introduction that they didn’t need. They knew who he was, either by having met with another one of the Duplicates or through reputation alone. Regardless, it was a part of the formality programming that he was equipped with.

“Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Otto Shule, Chief Executive Officer of the Republic Engineering Corporation.”

As instructed by his formality protocol, the Replica droid offered a hand to both of the individuals standing before him. He would later come to learn that they were the infamous Head of Republic Engineering’s Skakoan competitor - Mr. Gat Tambor himself, and the famed Anaxsi Admiral Cassius Callaesar.

The Duplicate was now in esteemed company.

“Would I be correct in assuming that both of you were conversing about this… Confederacy First doctrine that’s recently struck the HoloNet?” He asked, rhetorically speaking.

Of course, they were discussing the matter. It was one of the major talking points of this entire endeavour.​

“Of course you two are, it’s all these people here seem to talk about. Especially when there’s word of a new hyperlane in the works, one that avoids the Violet Curtain entirely and connects the Deep Core with the Outer Rim Territories.”

He paused to take a sip of his flute, and at that moment - saw something odd. There was a Representative who didn’t take part in the displaced discussions. From this distance, and from the roving packs of Socialites, Otto couldn’t place where he knew them from - but they were undoubtedly familiar. He swore that he saw their face on the Manifest, that they were supposed to be here, but something about them seemed wrong.

“I don’t mean to barge into the conversation and redirect your attention elsewhere,” the Duplicate said, as the flute peeled away from his lips. “But something seems off about the Representative from Keres One. He doesn’t seem well.”

| Cassius Callaesar | Gat Tambor | Ruus | Doroko Bral |​

 

[Westenra Mina]

Objective: Secure Ancient Font.

The Vampire flipped and twirled out of the attacks of her opponents, deflecting their bullets with her Katana. The Operatives took careful controlled bursts, trying to surround her, but her enhanced senses allowed her to hear the pulls of the trigger on their weapons before the bullets came out, and would either blade deflect or employ acrobatics to dodge the bullets.

Her right leg turned into a blade that cut a submachine gun in half, growing claws between her knuckles as she impaled a knee cap, turning a foot into a hammer that cracked the leg of another, sending the operative to the ground in agony.

"Fall back! Fall back!" the Leader of the team yelled, pouring as many bullets as they could in a single direction, forcing her to rely on blade deflects as she slowly advanced to the team trying to go out the way they came.

"You can't escape. Please throw down your weapons." She called out, saddened at having to hurt them.

A bullet finally managed to destroy half her head and she dropped to her knees, bright red blood leaking out and being reabsorbed into the flesh at the same time. They didn't stop firing, blasting whole chunks of her away until her limbs had been shredded off, They were out of ammo nearly.

One, armed with a pump action scatter gun got close, trying to confirm the kill, pointing at what was left of her head.

What was left of a hip bone turned into a bladed tentacle that jammed itself into his ankle, making him shriek and tumble over on top of the blood mess, where her black fangs on what was left of her mouth sank into his neck, speed draining his psychic energy as he screamed in horrid agony, the other operatives broke into a retreat trying to shoot at her, even hitting their comrade to do so. Her limbs had regenerated, and she used the screaming man she was still feeding on to heal soak in the rounds with his body armor she stopped feeding and threw the severely wounded man off, cartwheeling through gun fire and retrieving her katana. By this point the operatives were running. They would not make it. She was much, much faster than any of them.

She sprinted, the operatives switched to the repeating blaster pistols as a last resort, To their frustration she deflected those as well, but some managed to blast large holes in her torso and face as she chased them out into the black sands, reaching the first and slicing its weapon in half, little more than a skeleton with meat hanging off it at this point before growing claws from the muscle tissue of mangled knuckles and piercing the man's foot before spin kicking him unconscious, cartwheeling towards her enemies in a blur, twirling through gunfire as one by one she destroyed the weapons, rendering her foes unconscious by smacking them silly with kicks to the face or using the back edge of her katana. Then she was alone, regenerating.

As was custom, their sweet loot was now hers. As the flesh on her body and the lower half of her jaw regrew she began searching for useful stuff...

(Zelda Acquisition Theme Plays)

(New Item Acquired!)

Item: LASER KNIFE

Spoiler

Small energy knife that functions similarly to a lightsaber. Can be modified.

Westenra pulled a hilt of Dark Metal out. Very basic machining. Nondescript. Could have been made anywhere. Like the rest of their weapons. Westenra was nearly finished healing when she gathered them. Only one was dead. The rest were in massive amounts of pain or unconcious, and she used their own medical supplies to treat the lacerations and punctures (Not to mention carefull removing the poison teeth in their mouth, which amazingly had not broken from her Bruce Lee-ing their jaw) before restraining them and putting them in a pile outside the Font Chamber and going inside. Very little had been damaged.

She was soon examining the fountainhead. The runes indicated it was a chamber built by Jedi but what kind?

Regardless, the secrets here were too valuable to let the Sith have.

The Android spotted a small dial on the side of the font and twisted it.

A hidden panel within the starbird symbol on the font opened, revealing an obsidian chalice set with blue kybers. Written in gold were the words "This Fountain pulses eternally with the blood of heroes. Consume and grow wise."

As soon as The Android grabbed the chalice, she heard a click as the weighted mechanism was removed.

(Sinister Latin Chanting)

The Angelic faces on the device began to weep the telltale red of blood and traveled down the carvings in a very specific way to drip to a basin with a drain.

Westenra held the chalice under the dripping, letting it fill.

(Sinister Latin Chanting)

Westenra, not sure what would happen, shrugged and downed it.

Her flesh rippled and bubbled everywhere as her systems processed the blood, the knowledge within somehow downloading itself into her cells...

Her body went back to normal for a few minutes, her cells having properly processed the new information and rewriting her cell coding for this form to accommodate.

Westenra focused, and smiled in fascination as she held out her handa tendril of purple energy leaping from her hand and tethering itself to a small discarded pistol. Her eyes glowed purple as she made it move through the air.

She dropped it, and focused on herself, her flesh rippling everywhere as small, arcs of violent energy danced off it...

She shook her head, cutting off the effect. It had taken a lot from her to do both.

(Plasmid Acquisition Theme Plays)

(New Powers Acquired!)

Power: PSYCHIC-KINESIS

Spoiler

By draining psychic energy and mentally expending it, Westenra has learned how to simulate the effects of Force Telekinesis via Psychic energy. The larger the object, the more psychic energy that must be expended, necessitating more feedings. As skill grows, less energy is required to maintain effect.

Power: PSYCHIC BARRIER

Spoiler

By expending her psychic reserves, Westenra can now simulate the effects of Force Armor, temporarily rendering her more difficult to damage. The longer the barrier is up, the more psychic energy must be expended.As skill grows, less psychic energy is required to maintain.

Westenra then heard the whine of fast approaching Starfighters and a shuttle. She created a cavity in her belly, retrieved her High Republic credentials identifying her as one of its operatives named Ensan and waited with them in hand outside while the shuttle took its time getting here.

Republic Engineering

 

[Geist]

Like cattle being herded into the slaughterhouse...

Geist's yellow eyes scanned the room below him from the ventilator shaft. He didn't get to the Core Worlds often, let alone the Deep Core. Nightmares like him were usually relegated to the bedtime stories of the Unknown Regions or the Outer Rim where he could both blend in and where nobody asked questions if the entirety of a freighter crew went missing or wound up dead. So he'd been surprised when the Yokai had reached out to him. He'd heard of them, not the Yokai specifically, but the various Atrisian crime families spread throughout the Core Worlds. They were often posh, very, very traditional. Skinsuits loved their traditions. But the Yokai were...Different. Results-driven at any cost with a penchant for murder and destruction along the way. He could appreciate a fellow artist in that way.

They'd hired him to kill the Republic representative Kaito Kiyoshi and Gat Tambor, though the latter was a bonus they had said. The man had a sizeable bounty of his own that they simply wanted to cash in on for extra capital, a 60/40 split with Geist getting the 40. He was alright with that as the bonus they promised on top of the 40% more than made up for costs in maintenance, fuel, and repairs after this fiasco was over. The meeting was almost beginning with pleasantries being exchanged.

Kaito strolled into the meeting room wearing a nicely fitted formal tunic, his Republic Diplomat medal displayed proudly on his breast alongside a smaller green Corellian Confederation pin. There was at least one familiar face here and he reveled in that. The others he knew by reputation and brief research. Gat Tambor, owner of Technoid Manufactorum, a popular weapons and ship manufacturer from the Southern Systems, though he'd heard rumors of the man making a bid for the representative of Skakko, the alien's homeworld. The other was the CEO of Republic Engineering, or at least it looked like him. There was nothing in the Force from him, most likely a human replica droid which made Kaito curious. Most curious indeed.

Gat Tambor Saga of Valour Cassius Callaesar Doroko Bral Vonar Ardinn

 

[Geist]

ignore

 

[Theo Vereen]

Objective: Old Scars

"No Mam if you tell me what you need I'll look for it and try to have it"

She seemed visibly relieved her posture relaxed as she looked at Theo. She half smiled, "We could use some additional medical supplies." She hesitated, "A doctor"

Theo nodded, "I just happen to know a couple of doctors." He wasn't sure where they were Maeve Ar'klim and Ayda Elisantra but he remembered their program, and of course there were other Doctors who could come. He reached over and took her hand, "I'll get someone here to look at everyone" He wanted her to feel a level of comfort.

She nodded then suddenly she seemed to melt Theo reached out to catch her, oh she was burning up. He could tell she had a fever. He didn't need a doctor later he needed a doctor now. He looked at the others, "Are others sick too?"

"A few but Tyra takes care of them" Theo lifted her up, "Where" He followed them as he carried her to the building that was serving as their hospital, a quick look, 6 plus Tyra - 7.

"Do you know what it is?

"Fever"

That was about as helpful as mud. The team that had come with him to hand out supplies was now in the building. Only they had grabbed the protective gear. "We'll take and see what we can find. First responders" He pointed to himself, "If we don't have it you'll have to go and get it"

Theo nodded and stepped back.

Another voice behind him, "If its contagious you can't go anywhere." Deep blue eyes looked up to him. "Ok...let's find out."

Now he waited.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

If Frank could have protested, he would have.

Loske protested with a face. Allyson Locke 'd knocked her head a few too many times, forgetting that Loske had also been a Rogue pilot. She was about to tut-tut and remind the Jedi of this fact when Maynard Treicolt made introductions with a listless Seela Khaan.

Meanwhile, Frank's heavyset body knocked against Loske's and he hooted with what Loske hoped was regret. Everything else after that sucked. Quickly, she scrambled back to her feet and glared daggers at the brunette while protectively patting the dome of her astromech and shifting her weight uncomfortably. It hadn't been as bad as Allyson probably intended. Even though they were merely walking around, Allyson's threat had put her on more of an alert to erect that inch-wide barrier around her person to subdue any ethereal attacks.

The control over Frank was a little more inexplicable, and she wasn't able to defend him.

Through clenched teeth, she confirmed the devaronian's question.

"Nice to meet you. We've heard it's beautiful." The Padawan explained, abashed at the scenario and taking the time to look from the overhanging roots of the tree to it's stretching branches. "Though never been inside.

Have you?"

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Tython system // Tython Orbital Station
Gat Tambor Maou
Saga of Valour ​

​

"It's certainly caused quite the media stir," Cassius agrees, moving to allow Otto a position between the two within their developing group. "I was just telling Mr. Tambor that the Alliance has a business proposal that might be of interest to the two of you. Surely you've seen the Federal Assembly's public response. With the hyperlane project that was announced?" He looks between the two, waiting for each to confirm despite knowing they'd definitely have seen it or been informed by members of their corporations.

After taking a short sip from the champagne in his hand, the Admiral continues "The Ministries of Infrastructure & Commerce want to bring in private investors to help fund the development. From what I've been told, the route will cut through the Deep Core and wrap around Confederate space to the West." Being more familiar with REC's starships, he instinctively looks to Otto directly as he adds a final comment "no easy task, as I'm sure you're aware."

He shrugs, shifting his attention back to the group at large, "As an Admiral, I can tell you that navigating the Galactic Core is a fething miserable endeavour. However, I've been advised that certain expensive methods exist -- S-thread boosters, other things -- probably things the two of you are much more privy too than I, but things exist that could help mitigate the complications and build something relatively stable."

"The Ministry of Commerce has advised me that it is willing to offer corporate tax cuts and some reductions to importing & exporting fees for products moving across the new trade lane for corporations who invest in its development," his eyes move between the Skakoan and apparent human, trying to gauge a reaction to his proposition.

When Otto draws attention to the mentioned representative, Cassius' eyes wander the room but fail to locate him. "I can't say I've noticed anything. How do you mean?"

Other Tags
Ryv Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Westenra Mina
Allyson Locke Finley Dawson Auteme
Ruus Doroko Bral Theo Vereen
​

 

[Auteme]

T Y T H O N
Tag: Ryv ​

---

That... made sense.

Auteme had never really bothered to learn to properly operate these sorts of devices. They always seemed rather unnecessary. So many young people were addicted to their holodevices, after all, but she usually only used her old computer to search the HoloNet for whatever she needed and took hand-written notes. Still, considering she was often surrounded by said young people, she might as well learn how to use it properly. Maybe this Sunday she could get Ryv to help her figure it out.

After reading his message the padawan glanced around, looking for indicators of her location. The city streets were named and organized, of course, so if she just went to the intersection to look for the names... she got up from the bench she'd been sitting on and began to walk, before she paused.

Now wasn't a bad time to practice, was it? She was on a Force-rich planet, with time and space to try it out on something other than card games. The reach of Suerton probability bending was still nebulous, but with a little bit of focus, maybe she could push the limit. Auteme took a deep breath, feeling the flow of the Force around her. No, it didn't matter if she found Ryv immediately, she was here to explore the city, and so she would.

She walked down the street slowly and calmly. Her eyes wandered, taking in the sights; she enjoyed the little things of the city but paid little attention to which way she was going or where she was. There was a festive mood in the air; it was nice to get out and party, wasn't it? It was nice to get off Peace every once in a while. Finally she rounded a corner, and... well, the probability bending had worked. Maybe a little too well, as she bumped right into Ryv.

"Oh, so- Ryv!" Her face lit up as suddenly she had something specific to focus on. Auteme immediately embraced the kiffar, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "How are you? Sorry I didn't text back, I was just trying something," she said.

"So, what did you want to do at the festival?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Maynard had no context. To...anything going on. Wedgies, droids, trees. He knew squat about all of it. And it showed as the Concordian country boy's face narrowed and twisted with confusion from each passing moment. To the question offered up by the Devaronian he offered a nod. He had no other reason to be here.

"I mean...nah I didn't really touch down here with uhh...wedgies in mind, no, not gonna lie. Don't think that's ever been like...the goal, ya know?" Maynard offered to the Jedi Master to offer at least some reassurance to the motive of their collective presence.

"But hell, if you wanna give us- or me rather, because they probably already know, the rundown of the tree then that'd be uhhh...that'd be good." He offered in return awkwardly to the Jedi Master, hoping to redeem at least a portion of the horrible impression that the group created upon their initial greeting even if likely nothing could save face for Allyson by now. Maynard, at the barely least was a scratch as far as how really anyone saw him for now.

---

Seela Khaan | Loske Treicolt | Allyson Locke

 

[Charlie Nooran]

Objective: Old Scars
With: Finley Dawson

Charlie puffed her cheeks at the comment coming from the boy still on the freighter. How embarrassing, he called her out in front of everyone in the area. Some looked towards her after realizing she was the one he was speaking to, while others whispered and snickered at her reaction. Charlie's face turned a bright red while she held her breath marching her way back onto the shuttle. ​

"Bags?!" The Seoulian girl placed her hands on her hips as she looked at the boy who had embarrassed her with words. "We're not staying long; the bags don't need to leave the ship." She wasn't usually as forward as she was now, but she had her reasons, especially when it came to Tython. "We're gonna check something out and then go home." ​

She was never good at hiding her emotions, and with her comment came the tantrum. Sinking, she wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face into her knees as she squatted there, feet flat on the ground. "I don't know why you're so excited to be here, Finley." ​

 

[Arage Bao]

Objective: Black Ops - RESTRICTED
In scene: Gala Geert

Far above the world the future of the Core was being determined.

Arage was fine with this. Mostly. Not really. But she had come to terms with the fact that she could not control it. Humbarine was powerful, its sector an industrial and military machine, but they could not stand against the whole of the Republic and the Alliance at the same time. Perhaps it was simply her own arrogance that made her want to in the first place.

It was not that horrible to be part of this larger nation coming into being.

There were ... benefits.

Right now a secretive black ops operation was well underway. Its location? Kaleth. The ancient temple of Knowledge. Rumor had it that there was something very special located here.

Abandoned, dusty, the hallways coming and going. The team had split up a while ago. Arage herself teamed up with a few military droids, exploring something that looked like a smith hall. Broken hammers. A shattered anvil. Bao was surprised it hadn't turned to dust, but she supposed that was what happened with Force-forged metal.

Something went CLONK in the corner of the dark room.

Blaster raised up, eyes trying to pierce the shadows. "Lights, please." The droids would light up the room a moment later. What would Bao see there?

 

[Gala Geert]

Deep Core // Tython // Kaleth
Arage Bao
The devil I know​

There were so many people crawling around the planet that all sorts of nefarious plots could unfold under....zero watchful eyes. The big talk was happening above the planet, which consumed most of the security detail -- here and there, soldiers were deployed to patrol the planet and scout and circulate around some of the Jedi temples spattered throughout the planet. In light of recent years, and the previous Alliance's lore and fall, there were some suspicions around The Jedi.

Tython was not a planet Gala ever intended to visit. As much as her ancestry respected the Force and their traditions, she was a far cry from the other green folks on Mirial.

A little probe droid, not unlike the technical wonder that she'd seen Republic Engineering use on Vulpter, came whirring back to her outstretched palm. It gave a few unintelligible beeps and translated its findings. Many of these reports had been shared over the past few hours, and she sat back on the seat of her land speeder while reviewing the data.

"Hum, finally." She murmured and closed the scrawl, heeling the kickstand of the speeder and ushering the droid to lead her toward the building that it'd recorded a disturbance at. "Probably just wild life."

There were a fethton of unusual fauna roaming around this planet, and she wouldn't be surprised if something had started laying eggs in a previously historic site.

 

[Arage Bao]

Objective: Black Ops - RESTRICTED
In scene: Gala Geert
THEME

Just the flash of metal, before the little droid orb zipped out of the building.

"That isn't good." Arage murmured, looking even more churlish than usual, which was quite the accomplishment. "Track it." The droids did a combined roger-roger before they departed. Hunter protocols were enabled, causing them to blend into the scenery of the forest. Instead of drawing a straight line towards the trajectory of the little probe, they pincered.

Not that all this tactics chit was necessary.

Geert was expecting wildlife, but she was in for something quite else.

The speeder could be heard coming. The two hunter-killer droids set up shop and settled into 'WAIT'-mode. Arage, on the other hand, was already mildly frustrated with all the jungle and now this interruption. So she simply walked out of the building. Hands on her hips. And watched the approach of Geert's speeder impassively.

Enough with the chit.

"Long way from home." A pause there as Arage cocked her head quizzically. "Unless you live in the ruins, but somehow I doubt it."

Uniform, good equipment. Tython was a far-cry from a civilized place, so since Gala wasn't using clubs and arrows, that meant she was most likely part of the detachment above.

 

[Gala Geert]

Deep Core // Tython // Kaleth
Arage Bao ​

The droid had limited competency - detecting unusual thermo readings (or lack thereof) in the bushes was not on its resume. This meant Gala and the probe droid were blissfully driving through the Tython countryside with a myopic focus on the destination.

She hadn't expected to see a crisply uniformed personnel at the doorway of an ancient Jedi site. Something furrier perhaps, or with scales and younglings. Instead, someone who looked like the very definition of militant with an accompaniment of droids.

"Huh." Gala mused in an exhale, reducing the throttle on the bike and pulling it to a park that made her parallel to the power stancing Admiral.

"So are you." She intoned, dropping a hand to hover by her hip should she need to go on the defensive. Any immediate aggression looked stayed, but she maintained her posture in the seat to look ready to strike if necessary. The insignias on the woman's patches didn't bare the starbird of The Alliance.

Then came the super obvious question that was universally predictable to any encounter between two people who believed they had a right to a location - "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

 

[Arage Bao]

Objective: Black Ops - RESTRICTED
In scene: Gala Geert

Her hands had settled on her hips.

Coincidentally there was also a blaster attached to her belt however.

Casual like.

"Oh, I am just passing through." She murmured demurely. It didn't seem to stick however, more a mock than actual modesty. It was something about her posture, her presence. This was someone who was used to dominating the room. Just by walking through it. "Hm, that's funny, I was about to ask the same questions to you."

Head tilted the other way.

And there was a click from the distance.

Suddenly laser sights would light up towards the frame of Gala's body. "And I believe I have found you at an advantage." The smile Arage flashed had nothing warm or pleasant about it.

"So, who are you and what are you doing here?"

 

[Gala Geert]

Deep Core // Tython // Kaleth
Arage Bao
​

One of those. This was going to be a stalemate - thankfully Gala wasn't someone of impressive rank and would sacrifice ego to get some traction.

Her shoulders sunk into a roll. In tandem with her eyes. "Nice to meet you just passing through."

The mirialan showcased a knavish simper and dismounted the speeder, albeit somewhat cautiously given the fact a weapon was trained on her.

"I'm a soldier of The Alliance, we're conducting patrols of these Jedi sites to ensure things stay under control." There were important people in the atmosphere. "You don't look like a Jedi."

​