Dominion Tyrants Without Thrones || GA Dominion of Lazerian IV

[Caelan Valoren]

Caelan nodded to the Captain as he and his forces moved off to get into position. It left them with a little bit of time to prepare themselves for what was ahead of them. He didn't really feel that he needed the time, knowing full well that the person responsible for the murder of his parents was above them. He was confident of that fact. Why would they leave the center of power of the entire Kingdom when it was so obvious that they desired full control of the same?

"If any of you dies I'm going to bring you back so I can smack you for dying," he said, trying his best to make a joke and break some of the tension he was feeling.

They waited until they could hear the sounds of battle, and he felt sufficient time had passed for most of those to have moved out. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the main meeting room. He was surprised to find the person he was looking for in that room, and he stopped moving so fast that one of the others nearly ran him over before he thought to step to the side and allow them entry.

"I wondered when you would show up," the figure said, back turned to them still as he stared at a wall where a painting of Caelan, his sister, and his parents resided. "You've done an excellent job of thwarting those sent to kill you, after all."

The figure turned, its helmed head facing towards them. There was a vocabulator in use inside of the helmet, so it was impossible to say whether they were male or female, or what species they were. Humanoid, but there were thousands of species that fit that description. The malice it exuded was palpable and even Caelan, with his limited sense abilities, could tell that this person was far stronger than what they had faced in the foot soldiers they'd seen out in the city proper.

"Only three of you? I'd have imagined more would be appropriate. But then, you've sent your soldiers to distract mine, so it makes sense."

"Why are you doing this?" Caelan asked. "Why did you kill my parents? Why do you want me dead?"

"We have our reasons, but I'm not going to tell you. Nor will I drone on about it."

The Syndicate leader flicked his hand and the doors to the room, including the one they'd entered through, slammed shut. A blade appeared in their hand, crackling with red energy, sharper and more pointed than the other blades. This was the same blade that had given him his scar. And in the blink of an eye, the syndicate leader had moved, sweeping across the room to bring his blade in for an attack at Caelan, while simultaneously using the Force to push at Cora and Drystan.

Caelan ignited his saber at the last second and caught the man's blade, the force of his attack pushing him back for a moment before he caught himself and held the stalemate. Hopefully the other two could recover and make use of Caelan keeping the blade tied up.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8

TAGS: Drystan Creed | Corazona von Ascania | Thralrii Hillbolt ​

 

[Drystan Creed]

LAZERIAN IV: CITY OF DEVIT

"Blue bells? A fine choice," Drystan murmured to Cora as Caelan made his remark, smirking at the prince. "A Shadow never dies, prince. We only return to darkness."

He watched as Caelan pushed open the doors, observing the hostile figure who greeted them. Their exchange was met with little more than a raised eyebrow from Drystan—most of it didn't interest him. But the mention of Caelan's parents? That piqued his curiosity. There's more to this than meets the eye.

Then, the leader flicked the doors shut.

Drystan scoffed at the implication—he thought they would run? Insulting. His attention snapped back as their enemy lunged at Caelan, crimson blade meeting the prince's own.

Before he could act, a sudden Force push slammed into Drystan, sending him crashing into a bookshelf that crumpled under the impact. But he was back on his feet in an instant, showing no sign of pain, only mild annoyance.

Drystan pulled his saber to his hand, launching himself from the now collapsed shelf. In a blur, he launched forward, zigzagging toward his target. His movements were unpredictable, erratic, but calculated. At the last second, he struck—a precise thrust aimed at the figure's side, his saber igniting only in the final heartbeat before it would make impact should it find purchase.

Caelan Valoren Corazona von Ascania Thralrii Hillbolt

 

[Ariana du Couteau]

Ariana du Couteau, Jedi Padawan
Location: Crystal Valley, Lazerian IV
Objective Two: Crystal Valley
Outfit

Ariana kept up her smile, as strange as it was to hold even after all the two had done at this point. She listened and registered the fact the man was spartan with his words as was his apparent Mandalorian heritage. The armour though, a unique variant that I haven’t seen in quite such a style. Her eyes maintained on the man and nodded, her smile never wavering even as he warned about the Syndicate regrouping.

That was no doubt, Ariana assumed that those who left on the hovercrafts were higher up on the food chain. She had assumed that any remaining Syndicate forces would either reinforce their defenses back at their main headquarters or simply make a run for it off planet. The idea that they would attempt to counterattack and make a spirited attempt to reclaim the crystal mines was not an idea Ariana seriously entertained.

Well, I guess the possibility is there, and if the Syndicate believed they could successfully retake the mines and stockpile what is left before making a run for it off planet.

“It will be impossible for me to hide my presence being so close to these crystals. The Syndicate will know where to attack first. So with me as the lighting rod, I’m sure this will give you enough time to secure the civilians.” Ariana explained as she smiled and gave the man a nod. "May the Force be with you and the people you save."

The Alliance would slowly suffocate the planet’s orbit and soon make it impossible for the Syndicate to make a run for it off-system. If they intended to secure as much as their product as possible, they’d attack soon and leave just as fast. Ariana crossed her arms behind her back and headed back outside, her eyes scanning the massive containers with the crystals, some had broken open and several of them glowing as Ariana walked closer.

Her left hand rose up and slowly she used the Force to gently move the crystals, an attempt to clean up the mess. It was obvious where a Force user was with so many of these glowing spotlights, so Ariana embraced the larger than life target placed on her back. The Syndicate wouldn’t risk destroying the crystals nor the transport containers, no time to waste repacking or finding new containers. No, they’ll probably send in as many Enforcers as possible to engage me at close range and push me out in the open to be targeted by other reinforcements.

“Fear not the dark, or the monsters my friend. Brace for victories that come from my hands.” Ariana sang to herself, her rather strange permanent smile remaining as she waited for the Syndicate to arrive.
​

|| Stevru Klamat | @Open ||​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

To Caelan and Drystan's remarks, Cora only tsked.

The door opened to reveal a figure swathed in black. One the young prince had recognized, for his feet only moved just before she bumped into him.

Behind their target sat a large framed oil painting of the royal family. Aware of their presence, the masked figure continued to contemplate the image of a younger Caelan and his family before addressing them. A few heated, sinister words were exchanged, then it began.

The doors shut, the blade came out, and Cora felt the wind knock from her lungs as she was pushed back. She stuck her hand out before she could crash into a table at the far end of the room, catching the surface of the table with her fingers and leaping atop it in one quick, hurried motion.

From her vantage point, she had a clear view of Caelan's saber lock, and a less clear view of Drystan's phantom-like movements. Her gaze landed on the books scattered about the floor from the shadow's impact.

Said books began to hover in the air before launching themselves toward syndicate leader at an unpleasant speed.

Caelan Valoren Drystan Creed Thralrii Hillbolt

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Nos Voros

Jonyna sat, idly munching on her burger as she looked to the man. Questions like that were so easy.

"It can't be easy, determining good from evil. I suppose I'm glad the Jedi are there to identify which is which."

"To me? Honestly...it is. Maybe it's just because I've stared evil in the face, seen it in the plastoid of stormtroopers, in the scowl of inquisitors, long before I came out of the ice. Good, evil, it's not a matter of Light or Dark. It's about either choosing to do good, or choosing to be wicked. To inflict suffering. I chose to be a good, a long time ago. Long before...any of you were born. I don't horde riches from my company, I don't seek out vengeance, I don't even really hold grudges."

She paused, listening to his next question.

"Do you ever question whether you yourself are truly good? Or is it something you can feel?"

"...Not really. Like, I don't really ask the question, because I've spent my entire life thinking about it. Fighting the good fight." Jonyna took another bite, before letting out a sigh. "Back before I was part of the NJO, back when I was just Jonyna Si, Rebel Firestarter, I had my own code. Do Good, Even when it's inconvenient. Protect the Innocent, for you are their shield. Fight evil where it stands, with Kindness and Fury. Even now, I still do my best to live by that code, even as a Jedi. It's not a question of if I'm good, it's a question of if I'm doing good. To me, at least, being a good person isn't about what's inside, it's what you put out. What you do to help. People need to remember that no matter the issue, all we have is each other. One day, the planets will fade to dust, the stars will explode, and we'll be remembered only as words in a library somewhere. I got to witness that myself when I came out of the ice. Got to see how my tribe, my people, remembered me." Another bite, Jonyna now speaking with her mouth open. "Everything since has just been a bonus to my legacy."

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Senate Commando Armor
Full Kit Deployment:

Spoiler: Full Kit

* Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool

• 4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01
• 2 X Vibroblade-Model 01
• Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series
• Legion Crew Personal Protection Weapon Mark I
• Combat Scattergun-Model 01
• 3 X Modular Hand Grenade-Model 01
• 3 X Anti-Armor Grenade-Model 01

* Bastion-class Load Bearing/Combat Vest and Helmet

• Combat Blaster Rifle-Model 01 with Tactical Accessories Series and Underbarrel Grenade Launcher-Model 01 (20 X Launchable Grenade Series)
• 4x blaster cartridges
• 2x stun grenades
• Ascension Pistol
• Fusion Lantern
• Datapad
• Garrote
• 3x stimpacks
• 3x bland survival bars
• 128oz Canteen of water.

"To me? Honestly...it is. Maybe it's just because I've stared evil in the face, seen it in the [...] you were born. I don't horde riches from my company, I don't seek out vengeance, I don't even really hold grudges."

Something about her words stung, even though they were meant to encourage. That others could feel righteous without doubt, have a personal code to live by - it was a foreign thought to Nos. Maybe it went wit the part of his brain fried by a blaster. Maybe it was a Force thing.

"Back before I was part of the NJO, back when I was just Jonyna Si, Rebel Firestarter, I had my own code. Do Good, Even when it's inconvenient. Protect the Innocent, for you are their shield. Fight evil where it stands, with Kindness and Fur [...]Everything since has just been a bonus to my legacy."

Nos wanted to ask if he was evil - while he normally didn't question the things he had done or was ordered to do in service to the SIA, he knew they were secret for a reason. The kind of things that would reflect poorly on the Alliance's public image. The kind of things that, from another's point of view, would be seen as evil - even if they didn't know the full situation. Nos himself scarcely new the whole situation, he simply followed orders and protocol, but what if someone evil gave the orders? Nos had to trust that those in command knew what was best, for he certainly didn't, he just pulled the trigger when and where it was necessary.

"I see." Was all Nos could manage.

He couldn't bring himself to confide in the Jedi, to risk revealing anything classified or risk souring the conversation with his own doubt.

That must be why Nos was hesitant to eat. The people out there were largely innocent, deserving of the relief supplies. Nos's hands were stained for people like them to live happy and good lives. Whatever evil he did, he did to enable the goodness of others, his own moral compass be damned.

"I'm glad. That you have that surety."

His words might have been believable, if only his Zeltron Empathic Telepathy didn't broadcast his emotions despite himself.

Jonyna Si​

 

[Stevru Klamat]

⠀

Location⠀ Crystal valley, Lazerian IV
Objective 2⠀ Crystal Valley
Tags⠀ Ariana du Couteau

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The smile, though it struck him as unusual, perturbed him not in the slightest. He derived his own sort of satisfaction from the acts of violence he performed. The thrill of an ambush well executed, the surety of a blaster in the hand, the peace when all was quiet, and he was alone save for the dead. He felt no shame in any of it. For his Way was one of death. Those of others. And ultimately of his own, inexorable, demise. Though all these thoughts and feelings remained behind the implacable, weeping mask that was his helmet, and the impenetrable mass of jagged edges and tight conditioning that was his mind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She likely had the right of it. That the Syndicate, self interested cowards that they were, would cut and run in the face of their resistance. But the possibility that the prisoners here could become hostages was one too dangerous for him to ignore.

“It will be impossible for me to hide my presence being so close to these crystals. The Syndicate will know where to attack first. So with me as the lighting rod, I’m sure this will give you enough time to secure the civilians.” Ariana explained as she smiled and gave the man a nod. "May the Force be with you and the people you save."

"May your kills be many, and your failures few."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There was a pause, and he only spoke again as she turned away from him, amplified growl echoing out as she stepped away to face the coming enemy.

"When the prisoners are free, I will come back for you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Without further sentimentality, he parted from her, slipping out the back of the barracks even as she emerged. It felt wrong to leave her to face the enemy alone. But the mission took precedence. Those held in bondage must be set free.

This is the Way.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The lone Mandalorian slipped through the compound swiftly, cybernetic eye scanning for life signs in large concentrations. Locking on several huddled masses of people, corralled within pens, he set out with redoubled swiftness, slowing only as he approached.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The small force of guards set to watch over their prisoners died sudden and bad, the only preamble to their execution a shifting shadow, a gleam of beskar, and a blinding flash of light. He was amid them in a moment, twinned vibro-hatchets sinking into first the lower back, beneath the armor, then below the armpits, sunk into the flesh and used to steer the Enforcer. He kicked him into the other two, and was already turning away as he extended his wrist and expended the remainder of his flamethrower fuel on the trio.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀One of the hatchets, still stained with blood, was swiftly put to work cutting through the locks that held the worker pens closed. A rush of ragged looking civilians flooded from each door. Their rescuer in shining beskar stepped back from every attempted touch, and left each thank you unaddressed.

"It is my understanding that the planet is being liberated. Arm yourselves and make your way to the city."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The heavy bag, stuffed full of pilfered armaments, struck the dirt in front of the gathered crowd. There was a moment's stillness before those brave enough descended on the small arsenal of arms, and began distributing the weapons amongst themselves.

"You are going to hear shooting. Avoid it and flee this place. Am I understood?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The impassive beskar mask that was his truest face slowly panned across the crowd, and as those amongst the throng began to nod in agreement, he turned away. Back towards where the Padawan had made to make her stand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He only hoped he might make it in time to be of any use to her.

 

[Torn Eskol]

​

SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL
"COIN"

"In and out." The voice on the other end said. Always so to the point. Always so cruel. "No witnesses, no complications, no nothing. The SIA and the GADF and everyone else, even those damn Jedi can't and won't know you're there." She said, callous and cruel as usual. Torn took a deep breath, thumbing through the new identification papers to get him on-planet. "Any reason why?" He asked, though, he probably wasn't really expecting an answer. "We need to push the dominos over. But we can't have the SIA's fingerprints on what you're about to do. If you're caught, you're out, you're burned. You know how it is. Nothing personal, Coin."

​

The Jedi and the Sith may have had prophecies written on stone and in tomes and scrolls, but Coin's forecoming to the planet was foretold by fate itself. Fate itself decreed that he was to be here. The Syndicate was a threat, but not for the moral reasons that the other members of the Alliance faced. In reality, Coin felt that the Alliance's feel-good approach to governance was only matched by the fact that if the tax money and tribute and contributions to their war efforts faltered, or heaven forbid, an independence vote occurred... an entire fleet could darken the sky of the planet they were on.

Sunglass-covered eyes observed the street, idly reading a purchased holopad containing the daily news of the planet. Hateful, glowing eyes watched a syndicate patrol pass. Not a word, not a look, not a glance. The Syndicate Trooper reached out his hand, and Coin matched it, and exchanged the rolled-up bundle of credits for the datastick.

Simple enough.

Every shithead was motivated by greed. Coin was no different. At any given moment, he was selling an indiscriminate number of weapons and military equipment, communications, the like. Alliance and otherwise. It just came with the job, came with the opportunity. The SIA didn't pay him enough, and sometimes not at all at times like these.

The datastick was easy enough to find a place to plug into, in fact, Coin just walked into the back of the cafe he was at and used their console to do so. His eyes scanned over the lines and lines of information, scanning rapidly like a typewriter, before he found what he was looking for. And luckily enough too, as he removed the stick and the owner of the cafe came back, screaming in his guttural native language at him, getting close to him. He shoved Coin, harshly, pointing to the door.

Coin shut the door to the backroom, and mercilessly beat him, breaking his collarbone, elbow, dislocating his left arm, and breaking most of his fingers for the audacity. He passed out from the pain, slumped over, whimpering even in his sleep. He'd be fine- later on. Coin took a deep breath, fixing his hair, before exiting the backroom. He had a quick timetable, a quick chance to complete the mission successfully. So, he made his way outside, towards a waiting speeder.

Sixteen minutes. He had sixteen minutes to get to his objective, and complete it.