1
OOC Cantina / Re: Trying to fix it
« Last post by gallpizi on April 12, 2025, 09:49:26 PM »We are so back. Now if only we could get a game running.
Recent Posts
2
Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: Corporate Greed
« Last post by Syren on April 11, 2025, 09:36:34 PM »“You win by not playing the game
The times are changing, but you stay the same.”
-The Kooks
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
The meeting is about to adjourn when Corinthos signals the ExO.
“Another matter you wish to discuss, Direx Corinthos?” Aguilar inquires with a twinge of weariness.
“Only one more: security.”
Everyone was eager to move on with their days, but something in his tone and the timing quieted any would-be naysayers. Aguilar, interest is now piqued, allows it.
“Proceed.”
Corinthos, with his eyes burning across the circular space, finally unleashes all the toxic energy that has been building throughout the meeting. He alleges a grave threat Dane Gellar poses to the board and their respective holdings, not to mention their lives. Gellar is, according to him, a galactic target, which makes his presence and influence here untenable.
“We will pay the price, as I have, for Gellar’s continued membership.”
Not entirely undeserved. Or even necessarily incorrect. Still, he feels compelled to protest when the Imperial liaison, Burke Pallus, first interjects.
“I think we can all understand your point of reference on this matter, but Gellar is no greater danger than the enemies we make in everyday business. The Empire does not object to his membership and welcomes his perspective in the conversation.”
“By perspective, you mean his capital and products,” Corinthos retorts venomously. “And I am not so certain the Republic liaison would agree if she were alive to do so.”
Aghast, Aguilar protests, “Direx Corinthos, are you suggesting Direx Gellar was in some way involved with Ambassador Kain’s demise and the death of the Republic President? What evidence do you have to make such an insinuation?”
Dane wants desperately to object, but Alka’s hand is clamped firmly against his thigh below the table. Right. Best to let this play out. It is true, he was not involved in the bombing or her death, but he did ask that she return to Chandaar to find out what happened to Garron shortly before she also disappeared. Then he sent Kier Kincaid after her to find out what happened when both mysteriously reappeared. Corinthos may be operating out of grief and spite, but he suspects these are details, given their previous encounter, Pallus may have entertained. One more thing the Empire could use.
The tension in the room tightens. Corinthos takes a breath and settles back.
“Perhaps not directly, but I would not be surprised at his involvement somewhere. Surely you have thought the same. Even though they claim the Chiss attacked the Bolerathon Tower, my daughter was only present as a guest of his family. These are the perils of proximity I beseech you to all consider. Gellar will destroy us all if he is allowed to remain.”
“Direx Gellar, how do you respond to these allegations?”
He calls on Irulan’s coaching and every ounce of restraint he has, “Direx Corinthos is entitled to feel as he wishes. I cannot speak to his loss, nor can I attempt to understand his grief, but I bring value to this table and ask that you think carefully before passing judgment.”
Corinthos narrows his eyes. “Then we vote on it.”
“Is this what you truly want, Direx Corinthos? You may be sanctioned if you do not succeed.”
“I do not care. You must see reason. Gellar must go!”
“So be it,” he concedes sharply.
Turning to address the whole of the chamber, Aguilar summarizes the contention as he keys in the commands. The instructions appear on the screens in front of them with two choices.
“A simple majority. A vote of Yay indicates Gellar remains a Direx. A vote of Nay, he is removed. Cast your vote now.”
It is quick but fails. The totals are displayed in the center of the table in real time. Only three Nays.
Aguilar nods. “Gellar remains.”
After formally adjourning, Corinthos storms out. Dane does not call after him. No need. The better house wins. Gellar Enterprises is far too valuable to simply remove from the table. It controls too many industries and monopolizes critical supplies. And they know it. So does Corinthos, deep down. Not that it would bring him much comfort. At least now he knows Corinthos has three allies on the board. He would have to watch out for that.
Pallus appears at his side. “That was quite something.”
“It was. Appreciate the support, of course.”
“Did you doubt it?”
“Not for a second.”
“Excellent. Join me for a drink? We have some catching up to do.”
Alka intervenes with a tight smirk, “Perhaps another time.”
"Another time then," he nods and disappears down the lift.
Dane leans into her, “Thanks for the save.”
“He can petition for favors later. This has been a lousy day, so if you are having a drink with anyone, it’s me.”
“Best. Idea. Ever."
They descend the lift to find their contingent waiting for them. No one looks particularly thrilled.
Dane scowls. “What is it? What’s up?”
The group looks to Demaris, who appears to be stealing herself. “There has been another attack. Aboard the Asunder.”
It hangs there, anticipation almost oppressive.
“Sirona is dead.”
-TBC
The times are changing, but you stay the same.”
-The Kooks
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
The meeting is about to adjourn when Corinthos signals the ExO.
“Another matter you wish to discuss, Direx Corinthos?” Aguilar inquires with a twinge of weariness.
“Only one more: security.”
Everyone was eager to move on with their days, but something in his tone and the timing quieted any would-be naysayers. Aguilar, interest is now piqued, allows it.
“Proceed.”
Corinthos, with his eyes burning across the circular space, finally unleashes all the toxic energy that has been building throughout the meeting. He alleges a grave threat Dane Gellar poses to the board and their respective holdings, not to mention their lives. Gellar is, according to him, a galactic target, which makes his presence and influence here untenable.
“We will pay the price, as I have, for Gellar’s continued membership.”
Not entirely undeserved. Or even necessarily incorrect. Still, he feels compelled to protest when the Imperial liaison, Burke Pallus, first interjects.
“I think we can all understand your point of reference on this matter, but Gellar is no greater danger than the enemies we make in everyday business. The Empire does not object to his membership and welcomes his perspective in the conversation.”
“By perspective, you mean his capital and products,” Corinthos retorts venomously. “And I am not so certain the Republic liaison would agree if she were alive to do so.”
Aghast, Aguilar protests, “Direx Corinthos, are you suggesting Direx Gellar was in some way involved with Ambassador Kain’s demise and the death of the Republic President? What evidence do you have to make such an insinuation?”
Dane wants desperately to object, but Alka’s hand is clamped firmly against his thigh below the table. Right. Best to let this play out. It is true, he was not involved in the bombing or her death, but he did ask that she return to Chandaar to find out what happened to Garron shortly before she also disappeared. Then he sent Kier Kincaid after her to find out what happened when both mysteriously reappeared. Corinthos may be operating out of grief and spite, but he suspects these are details, given their previous encounter, Pallus may have entertained. One more thing the Empire could use.
The tension in the room tightens. Corinthos takes a breath and settles back.
“Perhaps not directly, but I would not be surprised at his involvement somewhere. Surely you have thought the same. Even though they claim the Chiss attacked the Bolerathon Tower, my daughter was only present as a guest of his family. These are the perils of proximity I beseech you to all consider. Gellar will destroy us all if he is allowed to remain.”
“Direx Gellar, how do you respond to these allegations?”
He calls on Irulan’s coaching and every ounce of restraint he has, “Direx Corinthos is entitled to feel as he wishes. I cannot speak to his loss, nor can I attempt to understand his grief, but I bring value to this table and ask that you think carefully before passing judgment.”
Corinthos narrows his eyes. “Then we vote on it.”
“Is this what you truly want, Direx Corinthos? You may be sanctioned if you do not succeed.”
“I do not care. You must see reason. Gellar must go!”
“So be it,” he concedes sharply.
Turning to address the whole of the chamber, Aguilar summarizes the contention as he keys in the commands. The instructions appear on the screens in front of them with two choices.
“A simple majority. A vote of Yay indicates Gellar remains a Direx. A vote of Nay, he is removed. Cast your vote now.”
It is quick but fails. The totals are displayed in the center of the table in real time. Only three Nays.
Aguilar nods. “Gellar remains.”
After formally adjourning, Corinthos storms out. Dane does not call after him. No need. The better house wins. Gellar Enterprises is far too valuable to simply remove from the table. It controls too many industries and monopolizes critical supplies. And they know it. So does Corinthos, deep down. Not that it would bring him much comfort. At least now he knows Corinthos has three allies on the board. He would have to watch out for that.
Pallus appears at his side. “That was quite something.”
“It was. Appreciate the support, of course.”
“Did you doubt it?”
“Not for a second.”
“Excellent. Join me for a drink? We have some catching up to do.”
Alka intervenes with a tight smirk, “Perhaps another time.”
"Another time then," he nods and disappears down the lift.
Dane leans into her, “Thanks for the save.”
“He can petition for favors later. This has been a lousy day, so if you are having a drink with anyone, it’s me.”
“Best. Idea. Ever."
They descend the lift to find their contingent waiting for them. No one looks particularly thrilled.
Dane scowls. “What is it? What’s up?”
The group looks to Demaris, who appears to be stealing herself. “There has been another attack. Aboard the Asunder.”
It hangs there, anticipation almost oppressive.
“Sirona is dead.”
-TBC
3
OOC Cantina / Re: Trying to fix it
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on April 11, 2025, 08:59:35 AM »Great, I'm going to see if in the summer I move this site onto my own servers from the cheap shared hosting to avoid these headaches in the future.
4
OOC Cantina / Re: Trying to fix it
« Last post by Syren on April 10, 2025, 05:35:41 PM »Yay! Thanks, Hop! Two hard reloads and everything looking good.
5
OOC Cantina / Re: Trying to fix it
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on April 09, 2025, 06:11:25 PM »You may need to do a hard relaod of the page (shift + refresh page) to get styling back.
6
OOC Cantina / Trying to fix it
« Last post by SWSF Hoppus on April 09, 2025, 06:10:58 PM »Sorry for the down time, trying to get things working :'(
7
Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: The Crimson Covenant
« Last post by Syren on March 22, 2025, 02:58:32 PM »“And no, she can’t slow down if she wanted to
Yeah, the speakers so loud, spinning around the room
And I don’t where I’m going but I gotta move
She said, “Boy, boy, are you coming too?”
-almost monday
Contruum
Moon Base
Darth D’Cera is too late.
As Inquisitor Involis vanishes below the platform, out of sight and into the void, Inquisitor Faraas turns to face her. She stops short but keeps a firm grip on her saber. He apprises her with amusement, attention shifting ever so slightly to acknowledge Allom’s head resting on the scuffed durasteel behind her. A victory, but a fleeting one. Stiffening, he manages a gruff laugh.
“Take comfort in your anger. After all, it was you who sent him to the grave.”
“Is this the part where you lecture me about female rage?”
“Deflection does not diminish your failure, D’Cera.”
“Allom may disagree. I saw you two talking. What did you tell him?”
“Only the truth,” he says with a simple shrug. “Now you must face your own.”
He lowers his voice to issue the directive slowly. Crisp and clear.
“Winton is not the way.”
She scoffs bitterly, “And you believe Adubell is? Her? I thought the Inquisitors were smarter than that.”
He is unphased, smug, spitting his words at her with sheer malice.
“All you represent is generations of misplaced faith. A physical manifestation of the lies those decrepit sorcerers told to maintain the power and influence they have had for far too long. We have made our choice. You are not it.”
He holds up the piece of the Etheralis.
“We got what we came for. The only thing left is to deal with you.”
She flicks her wrist and slowly opens her hand to reveal the fragment in her palm.
“You mean this?”
The shock is priceless and reverberates through his body. He glances at his glove where it had been only seconds before then back at her. No! The spoiled socialite would not distract him with her cheap parlor tricks. She would pay for Allom as she would pay for her delusion in the prophecy! Igniting his saber, he lunges with a roar. Then he freezes, held in place, every muscle constricted and taut. He arches his back, arms forced down to his sides, as he is lifted from the platform surface. The saber drops and clatters to the floor. In her hand, the fragment glows a vibrant green, reflecting a brilliant and blinding glow off her smooth, dark mask. It is her turn to apprise him, but this time with judgment and contempt.
Faraas watches helplessly as her fingers close around the Etheralis. Four delicate tendrils of energy pulse from her fist and encircle her, disappearing against the black suit. She does not know how or why it happens, only that she suddenly feels more connected to everything than she ever has. The hatred is intense but more accessible and tangible. Focused.
She can see quite clearly now and knows exactly what must be done.
“H-h-how?” he chokes out.
“Wrong question.”
“Y-you are an a-a-abomination, a f-fraud-”
“I am many things, Inquisitor Faraas, but that is rather beside the point now. That choice you spoke of. Let me be the last to tell you that it was incorrect. In fact, allow me to show you.”
He feels her power flare. D’Cera clenches her fist tighter but his screams of agony go unheeded as his body is forcibly wrenched back, spine snapping loudly as he encircles himself between his own legs, head coming to rest at the front of his stomach. She waits for the gasps and sputters of realization, garbled as his mouth fills with blood, come to an excruciating end. A mangled mess of limbs and broken skin, she lets him drop to the floor.
Exhaling, she deactivates her saber and clips it to her belt then tucks the Etheralis fragment into her suit. Stepping around what is left of Faraas, she peers over the edge. The wave of sorrow is held at bay by the simmering effects of the Etheralis and so she lowers her head to honor the loss quietly. As she means to turn and survey the damage and plot her next move, something catches her eye. A flicker in the layers of darkness below. Movement.
She drops to her knees, clutching the edge to steady herself while using the mask enhancements provided by the Voss-Ra to focus on the blur in the waning light of the abyss. It darts in and out of view, below the platform before reappearing again. Back and forth. With each reappearance, something catches the light, briefly, a flash of…orange.
“Son of a bitch,” she breathes.
Tracing a thin, faintly visible cord back up to the platform beneath them, she realizes he must have activated something from his armor as he fell. Her cousin is just full of surprises, it seems, but she obviously cannot reach the cord from here. Scanning the area, she does not immediately see a skiff or transport that would bring her down safely, only loaders for cargo. There are cables nearby, strewn across the destroyed crates from her and Allom’s battle, but lowering them would require his consciousness and participation, neither of which she could guarantee. There is no telling what kind of shape he’s in or if he is even alive.
She needs to do this herself.
D'Cera lays flat on her stomach, drawing from the power of the Etheralis against her body, and extends a hand over the edge. She focuses on his form, the air around it, light, swinging like a pendulum, and calls it to her. Guiding him upward. His armor finally crests the edge, and, with a final burst of strength, she hauls him up and back onto the platform. His armor crashes against the durasteel floor. The grappling hook detaches from his plated glove and slithers back with a snap into the darkness below.
She lays beside him for a while, spent from the exertion, the fighting, her shoulder injury screaming for attention, and stares into his mask. A small laugh escapes her lips, realizing now the thought of losing him wounded her more deeply than it should have. He warned her of this. Dangerous as familial attachments can be it is not a connection she can simply set aside. She does not want to do this alone, even if that defies something sacred about the Sith.
More immediate issues await, so she again draws strength from the Etheralis and rises.
Procuring a loader, she dumps both parts of Allom and what remains of Faraas next to the hulking mass of Involis and slowly traverses her way back through the base to the landing pad and their ship. It is a trek made in silent reflection at their battle and lessons learned. She fought well and prevailed – a test the Voss-Ra would no doubt celebrate – yet the revelation of Adubell’s claim and the acolytes she turned bring new and ominous questions to the forefront. There is no telling how many she has drawn to her cause now. The added assistance against Dane, Gemma, and Riley also means she is in more imminent danger from unexpected and unnecessary sources than strictly should be allowed for this stage of the plan.
Once inside the shuttle, a feat unto itself, she closes the ramp and pulls off his helmet to find him breathing beneath it. His eyes roll and open without really focusing.
“You did it,” he mumbles with an unconcealed trace of sarcasm.
She pulls off her own and smiles, “I did. What’s your damage?”
“Bruised but alive, mostly,” he whispers, easing himself up against the wall. “Faraas…he took…”
“Except he didn’t.”
She withdraws the Etheralis fragment from her suit. It glows in her gloved hand.
He winces as he attempts a smirk, “Go team.”
She flips her hair and pushes the piece back into the center of his chest plate, snapping it into place. His armor, battered as it is, hums to life. He straightens visibly and takes a few long, deep breaths, already looking remarkably better. The connection to it clearly heightens the ability to channel the Force, but there is still much she does not know about it.
“What do you say we dump these Inquisitors and get out of here?”
“No,” he says, more strength in his tone. “Misled or not, they deserve better. Take us to Contruum and we will send them off on the surface.”
She nods, leaving him temporarily to tend to her wounds before guiding them out of the base. He'll need a minute anyway. The urge to ask him what happened is overwhelming, but she knows him well enough now to give him some space. Whatever was said caused him to shut down completely. That much she saw which means it must have pierced the cool veneer of detachment and that is a frightening thing indeed. She retraces the route Seif used to get them in and makes haste for the swirling planet beyond. She is stiff and sore, but her shoulder would heal. Nothing a bacta pad and some focus couldn’t handle. She was good but she was also lucky.
They both were.
Surface
The coast.
Dahlia and Seif are unsteady on the sand. The Imperial Academy looms in the distance, a symbol encased in shadow as the sun slips behind the horizon, deepening the sky with dark purples and glimmers of pink. A full circle moment. The daughters of Alexander Winton make lasting impressions on Contruum. Threats to each of their roles are handled dramatically and often gruesomely. Vicious cycles. A proud papa pleased even in hell. She never knew him and is not misguided enough to want to follow in his footsteps. He never really wanted Karen to win, she ponders dimly. He only ever wanted what was in it for him – just as Adubell does.
They build two pyres and place the remains of the Inquisitors upon them. Seif silently hands her a driftwood torch and she sets both ablaze. They step back and watch as the flames dance higher, embers caught in the breeze. Seif raises the flask he’s holding before taking a slug. He does not offer it to her. She does not protest, aloud at least, since they are both thinking the same thing. This makes him the last Inquisitor. A wayward one, at that.
Fallen.
Lost the mission.
Allowed a Winton to influence him just as the Voss-Ra expected them to.
All part of the plan.
For her.
For the Covenant.
The Winton must survive.
The Winton must win.
It’s all he heard. All he’s ever known.
And now they are here, Winton and Greyson-Guldon, faced with more lies.
Her voice breaks the spiral.
“What now? Continue to Chandaar as planned?”
It is a sensible thing to do. It is what they set out to do. But it is not what he wants to do. Barrett Trevaithan has a handle on things for the moment and plenty to work with. The Republic could unravel a bit longer. He had warned her against it, questioning their roles, but this had changed everything for him. He does not know who he really is. Where Seif ends and Involis begins. The Voss-Ra would answer for this. One way or the other. His features cloud over with anger, the fire alight in his eyes.
“Now we go to Dathomir.”
-TBC
Yeah, the speakers so loud, spinning around the room
And I don’t where I’m going but I gotta move
She said, “Boy, boy, are you coming too?”
-almost monday
Contruum
Moon Base
Darth D’Cera is too late.
As Inquisitor Involis vanishes below the platform, out of sight and into the void, Inquisitor Faraas turns to face her. She stops short but keeps a firm grip on her saber. He apprises her with amusement, attention shifting ever so slightly to acknowledge Allom’s head resting on the scuffed durasteel behind her. A victory, but a fleeting one. Stiffening, he manages a gruff laugh.
“Take comfort in your anger. After all, it was you who sent him to the grave.”
“Is this the part where you lecture me about female rage?”
“Deflection does not diminish your failure, D’Cera.”
“Allom may disagree. I saw you two talking. What did you tell him?”
“Only the truth,” he says with a simple shrug. “Now you must face your own.”
He lowers his voice to issue the directive slowly. Crisp and clear.
“Winton is not the way.”
She scoffs bitterly, “And you believe Adubell is? Her? I thought the Inquisitors were smarter than that.”
He is unphased, smug, spitting his words at her with sheer malice.
“All you represent is generations of misplaced faith. A physical manifestation of the lies those decrepit sorcerers told to maintain the power and influence they have had for far too long. We have made our choice. You are not it.”
He holds up the piece of the Etheralis.
“We got what we came for. The only thing left is to deal with you.”
She flicks her wrist and slowly opens her hand to reveal the fragment in her palm.
“You mean this?”
The shock is priceless and reverberates through his body. He glances at his glove where it had been only seconds before then back at her. No! The spoiled socialite would not distract him with her cheap parlor tricks. She would pay for Allom as she would pay for her delusion in the prophecy! Igniting his saber, he lunges with a roar. Then he freezes, held in place, every muscle constricted and taut. He arches his back, arms forced down to his sides, as he is lifted from the platform surface. The saber drops and clatters to the floor. In her hand, the fragment glows a vibrant green, reflecting a brilliant and blinding glow off her smooth, dark mask. It is her turn to apprise him, but this time with judgment and contempt.
Faraas watches helplessly as her fingers close around the Etheralis. Four delicate tendrils of energy pulse from her fist and encircle her, disappearing against the black suit. She does not know how or why it happens, only that she suddenly feels more connected to everything than she ever has. The hatred is intense but more accessible and tangible. Focused.
She can see quite clearly now and knows exactly what must be done.
“H-h-how?” he chokes out.
“Wrong question.”
“Y-you are an a-a-abomination, a f-fraud-”
“I am many things, Inquisitor Faraas, but that is rather beside the point now. That choice you spoke of. Let me be the last to tell you that it was incorrect. In fact, allow me to show you.”
He feels her power flare. D’Cera clenches her fist tighter but his screams of agony go unheeded as his body is forcibly wrenched back, spine snapping loudly as he encircles himself between his own legs, head coming to rest at the front of his stomach. She waits for the gasps and sputters of realization, garbled as his mouth fills with blood, come to an excruciating end. A mangled mess of limbs and broken skin, she lets him drop to the floor.
Exhaling, she deactivates her saber and clips it to her belt then tucks the Etheralis fragment into her suit. Stepping around what is left of Faraas, she peers over the edge. The wave of sorrow is held at bay by the simmering effects of the Etheralis and so she lowers her head to honor the loss quietly. As she means to turn and survey the damage and plot her next move, something catches her eye. A flicker in the layers of darkness below. Movement.
She drops to her knees, clutching the edge to steady herself while using the mask enhancements provided by the Voss-Ra to focus on the blur in the waning light of the abyss. It darts in and out of view, below the platform before reappearing again. Back and forth. With each reappearance, something catches the light, briefly, a flash of…orange.
“Son of a bitch,” she breathes.
Tracing a thin, faintly visible cord back up to the platform beneath them, she realizes he must have activated something from his armor as he fell. Her cousin is just full of surprises, it seems, but she obviously cannot reach the cord from here. Scanning the area, she does not immediately see a skiff or transport that would bring her down safely, only loaders for cargo. There are cables nearby, strewn across the destroyed crates from her and Allom’s battle, but lowering them would require his consciousness and participation, neither of which she could guarantee. There is no telling what kind of shape he’s in or if he is even alive.
She needs to do this herself.
D'Cera lays flat on her stomach, drawing from the power of the Etheralis against her body, and extends a hand over the edge. She focuses on his form, the air around it, light, swinging like a pendulum, and calls it to her. Guiding him upward. His armor finally crests the edge, and, with a final burst of strength, she hauls him up and back onto the platform. His armor crashes against the durasteel floor. The grappling hook detaches from his plated glove and slithers back with a snap into the darkness below.
She lays beside him for a while, spent from the exertion, the fighting, her shoulder injury screaming for attention, and stares into his mask. A small laugh escapes her lips, realizing now the thought of losing him wounded her more deeply than it should have. He warned her of this. Dangerous as familial attachments can be it is not a connection she can simply set aside. She does not want to do this alone, even if that defies something sacred about the Sith.
More immediate issues await, so she again draws strength from the Etheralis and rises.
Procuring a loader, she dumps both parts of Allom and what remains of Faraas next to the hulking mass of Involis and slowly traverses her way back through the base to the landing pad and their ship. It is a trek made in silent reflection at their battle and lessons learned. She fought well and prevailed – a test the Voss-Ra would no doubt celebrate – yet the revelation of Adubell’s claim and the acolytes she turned bring new and ominous questions to the forefront. There is no telling how many she has drawn to her cause now. The added assistance against Dane, Gemma, and Riley also means she is in more imminent danger from unexpected and unnecessary sources than strictly should be allowed for this stage of the plan.
Once inside the shuttle, a feat unto itself, she closes the ramp and pulls off his helmet to find him breathing beneath it. His eyes roll and open without really focusing.
“You did it,” he mumbles with an unconcealed trace of sarcasm.
She pulls off her own and smiles, “I did. What’s your damage?”
“Bruised but alive, mostly,” he whispers, easing himself up against the wall. “Faraas…he took…”
“Except he didn’t.”
She withdraws the Etheralis fragment from her suit. It glows in her gloved hand.
He winces as he attempts a smirk, “Go team.”
She flips her hair and pushes the piece back into the center of his chest plate, snapping it into place. His armor, battered as it is, hums to life. He straightens visibly and takes a few long, deep breaths, already looking remarkably better. The connection to it clearly heightens the ability to channel the Force, but there is still much she does not know about it.
“What do you say we dump these Inquisitors and get out of here?”
“No,” he says, more strength in his tone. “Misled or not, they deserve better. Take us to Contruum and we will send them off on the surface.”
She nods, leaving him temporarily to tend to her wounds before guiding them out of the base. He'll need a minute anyway. The urge to ask him what happened is overwhelming, but she knows him well enough now to give him some space. Whatever was said caused him to shut down completely. That much she saw which means it must have pierced the cool veneer of detachment and that is a frightening thing indeed. She retraces the route Seif used to get them in and makes haste for the swirling planet beyond. She is stiff and sore, but her shoulder would heal. Nothing a bacta pad and some focus couldn’t handle. She was good but she was also lucky.
They both were.
Surface
The coast.
Dahlia and Seif are unsteady on the sand. The Imperial Academy looms in the distance, a symbol encased in shadow as the sun slips behind the horizon, deepening the sky with dark purples and glimmers of pink. A full circle moment. The daughters of Alexander Winton make lasting impressions on Contruum. Threats to each of their roles are handled dramatically and often gruesomely. Vicious cycles. A proud papa pleased even in hell. She never knew him and is not misguided enough to want to follow in his footsteps. He never really wanted Karen to win, she ponders dimly. He only ever wanted what was in it for him – just as Adubell does.
They build two pyres and place the remains of the Inquisitors upon them. Seif silently hands her a driftwood torch and she sets both ablaze. They step back and watch as the flames dance higher, embers caught in the breeze. Seif raises the flask he’s holding before taking a slug. He does not offer it to her. She does not protest, aloud at least, since they are both thinking the same thing. This makes him the last Inquisitor. A wayward one, at that.
Fallen.
Lost the mission.
Allowed a Winton to influence him just as the Voss-Ra expected them to.
All part of the plan.
For her.
For the Covenant.
The Winton must survive.
The Winton must win.
It’s all he heard. All he’s ever known.
And now they are here, Winton and Greyson-Guldon, faced with more lies.
Her voice breaks the spiral.
“What now? Continue to Chandaar as planned?”
It is a sensible thing to do. It is what they set out to do. But it is not what he wants to do. Barrett Trevaithan has a handle on things for the moment and plenty to work with. The Republic could unravel a bit longer. He had warned her against it, questioning their roles, but this had changed everything for him. He does not know who he really is. Where Seif ends and Involis begins. The Voss-Ra would answer for this. One way or the other. His features cloud over with anger, the fire alight in his eyes.
“Now we go to Dathomir.”
-TBC
8
OOC Cantina / Re: Andor
« Last post by Syren on March 21, 2025, 01:53:01 PM »We're still here, doin our thing. Why surprised? This means many things to all of us in different ways. Hope you are well, Ramano.
9
OOC Cantina / Re: Andor
« Last post by Ramano on March 11, 2025, 03:28:33 AM »Oh wow. Yall is still here?! How is everyone? Hope life treating everyone well. Just sitting here at 2am an ANH came on. Made me think of you guys. Kind of surprised this is still here actually.
10
Star Wars: The Crimson Covenant / Re: CC: Corporate Greed
« Last post by Syren on March 01, 2025, 05:01:45 PM »“There’s a whole lotta grudges
That I can’t even keep up
I wish that I understood
But I cannot get my head around it.”
-Faye Meana
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Mondder
Dane Gellar rubs his hands together in the brisk air as he waits outside the administration building.
The mottled, overcast sky gives off a foreboding vibe he tries not to let unnerve him. It is not long before Alka’s shuttle touches down. She exits flanked by Avinarius and Shendo to join him as he turns and walks toward the entrance, Demaris and Taarek stand near as sentries. Her delicate features are tight so he keeps his voice low.
“That bad, huh?”
Apparently, the Legal Division is not playing around. A charge of one Direx killing another, especially when the slain was the highest-ranking financial officer in Cybot Galactic, has drawn significant attention and scrutiny. The company is one of the most vital to the Sector with heavy investment from many prominent factions. Controversy surrounding Dyre’s death destabilized momentum and compromised their reputation. Shareholders are obviously furious.
The days of capitulating for fickle Imperial Moffs and self-righteous Republic ambassadors may be long over, but they know who lines their pockets. Opposing counsel had punctuated their opening with what Alka describes as malicious slander that painted D’Ken Dawning as angry and unstable. Dane suppresses a smile – Dawning was certainly angry, but he was far from unstable. They allege Finnius Dyre only wanted justice for his son, but Dawning wanted him to drop it. When he wouldn’t, dragging his name into the shadow of suspicion, they allege Dawning ordered him to be silenced and staged the grisly scene to make himself out to be a victim and potential target.
Her father’s counsel tried to sow doubt early by reminding everyone that the Chiss were implicated in the murder of Preston Dyre, which was corroborated by his daughter, Dane Gellar, and the Empire. Dyre was making enemies everywhere in his accusations that there were deeper threads to Preston’s murder and eventually accused the wrong person who murdered him – but that person wasn’t D’Ken Dawning. Dawning, they claim, was only looking out for him, and more broadly the company, in urging him to make peace with banishment and exile of the Chiss who took his son from him.
“It was excruciating. This is only the beginning. It’s going to get ugly.”
He sighs, “Probably. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s sorry. We’re in this mess now.”
They enter the building and make their way through the tunnels to the base of the grand conference hall. It is a joyless, functional place. One that Dane never liked when his father brought him on occasion. Their security would have to wait here as only Direx’s are allowed up in the inner sanctum. The trial may be weighing on everyone, but it is only amplified by someone out there knowing they lied. If it were another Direx, this could be a relatively truncated tenure on the board.
The most logical assumptions are Dyre, Corinthos, and Aguilar. With Dyre dead, Aguilar doesn’t seem like the type to sit on this. He would want justice dealt swiftly, knowing it wouldn’t bring back his son, but may afford him a measure of closure. Corinthos has lost not one but two daughters. Kaytt made a lot of enemies in the Republic, not that it excuses or justifies her untimely fate, but Trichelle was clearly caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage in someone else’s fight. Promising lives cut short, etc., etc. Both had a connection to The Four, which Corinthos is not likely to let go of. Would he go to such lengths to toy with them? Corinthos stands to gain from their destruction, as does Aguilar, but the methods are far less direct than they are used to. Direx’s historically do not favor psychological warfare - not when there are more satisfying and enriching ways to exact retribution. It adds a layer of tension to their membership, but they would have to play the game.
Dane gives Alka a small smile as they ascend, appearing behind the vast table, and moving to take their seats. There are murmurs and stares on their arrival. New blood with tainted legacies, as if anyone here is better. He does his best to keep his face neutral. Burke Pallus, the Imperial liaison, nods to them a few seats away. The Empire had covered for them, legitimized their story. It was a gesture of faith but one that no doubt would come with strings. It is only a matter of time.
For the most part, the meeting mercifully proceeds as expected. It opens with action item follow-ups from their previous session, something they both needed to catch up on quickly, before moving on to quarterly budget discussions. There are windfalls here, a slip in sales there. Shifting galactic politics that require adjustments and consideration. All rather mundane. Dane reports on profitability and strategy in his various sectors, supplied in succinct detail by Irulan. Alka comes out the gates swinging and proposes the reallocation of funding to strengthen arts and culture opportunities, suggesting a path through adversity in engaging with their communities.
D’Ken’s trial, Dyre’s absence, and the loss of several Sector heirs are not far from anyone’s minds nor are some of the more aggressive Direx’s keen on allowing the daughter of a potential murderer to tell them they need to relax. There is grumbling that such an investment may be a waste. She provides figures and margins from productions and events over the past twelve months, a clear indication there is strong interest and potential for diversification and worthwhile returns should they be open to it.
It quiets some of the louder detractors, but others remain resistant. Corinthos seems to simmer in unnerving silence while Pallus apprises the potential scope of her newfound influence. Aguilar appears more receptive to the idea as his family has been patrons of the dance company and other artistic ventures over the years. He urges others to find balance in their lives, personally as well as professionally. Speaking as someone who suffered a significant loss in Ples, his words do not fall on deaf ears. Dane is impressed and the board earmarks it for further discussion before moving on.
Below, Demaris Atrii steps away and finally takes the call from Riley Patten.
He has made several attempts over the past hour and only now is she able to address it. He briefly recaps what happened in the Corellian Sector and asks if everything is okay. She assures him that it is, for now, not skirting over the issues at hand. It is as under control as it can be. She is pleased to know her brother survived, even with the extent of his injuries not fully known, but her heart breaks for the loss of Sirona. It hits her almost as hard as the news about Oz and Lysette, but she has fortified herself somewhat at the possibility of greater loss after Alka’s grim outburst. Riley asks what she knew would come next.
“What about Shendo?”
The last of their Force-sensitive refugees with his saber clipped to his belt and Tehk’la blade tucked behind him. Skeptical, but willing. Capable. They may not know him well, but she is not fooling herself when she considers the trust they forged in their time together.
“He has not shown any overt signs of being psychically assaulted or controlled.”
“Neither did Lysette.”
The comment stings but she maintains an even tone, “I imagine the same can be said about Sirona until she was in the right place to strike. This is tactical, Riley, but we should not be quick to turn on one another. They are counting on division as a distraction.”
“That doesn’t mean Shendo didn’t end up with all of you for a reason too.”
Dane made a similar reference, something she has been replaying in her mind ever since their conversation. Many refugees were fleeing the capital when they all came together. It was chaos. Taarek was able to escape with twelve and bring them to the house on Viperii Lake where they waited and comforted one another through training and meditation until they could figure out what came next. His contact, Antaro, escorted the others to a safe house in the Outer Rim, which left Lysette, Oz, Shendo, and Sirona in their care. They were angry, frightened, and forced to run again when their posh hideout was discovered. The details of that split remain hazy in her mind. Had Taarek and Antaro made that decision? Or had Lysette intervened there as well? So much was happening then and so much had happened since that she is not sure she trusts her ability to recall with absolute certainty.
The insinuation remains: is someone waiting for Shendo to move into position? Each of the refugees ended up in a different group when they separated. Was this their own choice, as it appeared at the time, or something more? They may have all been positioned in some way, agents of the prophecy, unwitting or not. The prospect makes her stomach sink, but Demaris does not allow herself to spiral. She believes giving in to conspiracy and paranoia would do more harm than good but admits to herself that Sirona’s message to her brother, through the mysterious woman who destroyed Centerpoint, was likely a warning.
“No,” she says softly, eyes shifting to the Nagai standing alert near the lift. “I suppose it doesn't. We will remain vigilant.”
“Be careful, Demaris. It is growing more difficult to tell who is influencing what, but feel like we are playing right into everyone’s hands.”
With the prophecy revealed to have been active for far longer than anyone realized, the Voss-Ra and their assorted acolytes exerting influence and inflicting terror, the assessment does not ring false. Their advantage in discovering the loop is minimal at best with the depth of planning and possible infiltration still largely out of their grasp. Uncontained. It is a dangerous place to be. Gemma’s fatalist plan, one that Dane and Riley have wildly agreed to, feels more defeatist than she is willing to accept at the moment. She believes there is more than one way to win.
“Keep faith and have hope, my friend. The game may be rigged but it is not over.”
-TBC
That I can’t even keep up
I wish that I understood
But I cannot get my head around it.”
-Faye Meana
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Mondder
Dane Gellar rubs his hands together in the brisk air as he waits outside the administration building.
The mottled, overcast sky gives off a foreboding vibe he tries not to let unnerve him. It is not long before Alka’s shuttle touches down. She exits flanked by Avinarius and Shendo to join him as he turns and walks toward the entrance, Demaris and Taarek stand near as sentries. Her delicate features are tight so he keeps his voice low.
“That bad, huh?”
Apparently, the Legal Division is not playing around. A charge of one Direx killing another, especially when the slain was the highest-ranking financial officer in Cybot Galactic, has drawn significant attention and scrutiny. The company is one of the most vital to the Sector with heavy investment from many prominent factions. Controversy surrounding Dyre’s death destabilized momentum and compromised their reputation. Shareholders are obviously furious.
The days of capitulating for fickle Imperial Moffs and self-righteous Republic ambassadors may be long over, but they know who lines their pockets. Opposing counsel had punctuated their opening with what Alka describes as malicious slander that painted D’Ken Dawning as angry and unstable. Dane suppresses a smile – Dawning was certainly angry, but he was far from unstable. They allege Finnius Dyre only wanted justice for his son, but Dawning wanted him to drop it. When he wouldn’t, dragging his name into the shadow of suspicion, they allege Dawning ordered him to be silenced and staged the grisly scene to make himself out to be a victim and potential target.
Her father’s counsel tried to sow doubt early by reminding everyone that the Chiss were implicated in the murder of Preston Dyre, which was corroborated by his daughter, Dane Gellar, and the Empire. Dyre was making enemies everywhere in his accusations that there were deeper threads to Preston’s murder and eventually accused the wrong person who murdered him – but that person wasn’t D’Ken Dawning. Dawning, they claim, was only looking out for him, and more broadly the company, in urging him to make peace with banishment and exile of the Chiss who took his son from him.
“It was excruciating. This is only the beginning. It’s going to get ugly.”
He sighs, “Probably. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s sorry. We’re in this mess now.”
They enter the building and make their way through the tunnels to the base of the grand conference hall. It is a joyless, functional place. One that Dane never liked when his father brought him on occasion. Their security would have to wait here as only Direx’s are allowed up in the inner sanctum. The trial may be weighing on everyone, but it is only amplified by someone out there knowing they lied. If it were another Direx, this could be a relatively truncated tenure on the board.
The most logical assumptions are Dyre, Corinthos, and Aguilar. With Dyre dead, Aguilar doesn’t seem like the type to sit on this. He would want justice dealt swiftly, knowing it wouldn’t bring back his son, but may afford him a measure of closure. Corinthos has lost not one but two daughters. Kaytt made a lot of enemies in the Republic, not that it excuses or justifies her untimely fate, but Trichelle was clearly caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage in someone else’s fight. Promising lives cut short, etc., etc. Both had a connection to The Four, which Corinthos is not likely to let go of. Would he go to such lengths to toy with them? Corinthos stands to gain from their destruction, as does Aguilar, but the methods are far less direct than they are used to. Direx’s historically do not favor psychological warfare - not when there are more satisfying and enriching ways to exact retribution. It adds a layer of tension to their membership, but they would have to play the game.
Dane gives Alka a small smile as they ascend, appearing behind the vast table, and moving to take their seats. There are murmurs and stares on their arrival. New blood with tainted legacies, as if anyone here is better. He does his best to keep his face neutral. Burke Pallus, the Imperial liaison, nods to them a few seats away. The Empire had covered for them, legitimized their story. It was a gesture of faith but one that no doubt would come with strings. It is only a matter of time.
For the most part, the meeting mercifully proceeds as expected. It opens with action item follow-ups from their previous session, something they both needed to catch up on quickly, before moving on to quarterly budget discussions. There are windfalls here, a slip in sales there. Shifting galactic politics that require adjustments and consideration. All rather mundane. Dane reports on profitability and strategy in his various sectors, supplied in succinct detail by Irulan. Alka comes out the gates swinging and proposes the reallocation of funding to strengthen arts and culture opportunities, suggesting a path through adversity in engaging with their communities.
D’Ken’s trial, Dyre’s absence, and the loss of several Sector heirs are not far from anyone’s minds nor are some of the more aggressive Direx’s keen on allowing the daughter of a potential murderer to tell them they need to relax. There is grumbling that such an investment may be a waste. She provides figures and margins from productions and events over the past twelve months, a clear indication there is strong interest and potential for diversification and worthwhile returns should they be open to it.
It quiets some of the louder detractors, but others remain resistant. Corinthos seems to simmer in unnerving silence while Pallus apprises the potential scope of her newfound influence. Aguilar appears more receptive to the idea as his family has been patrons of the dance company and other artistic ventures over the years. He urges others to find balance in their lives, personally as well as professionally. Speaking as someone who suffered a significant loss in Ples, his words do not fall on deaf ears. Dane is impressed and the board earmarks it for further discussion before moving on.
Below, Demaris Atrii steps away and finally takes the call from Riley Patten.
He has made several attempts over the past hour and only now is she able to address it. He briefly recaps what happened in the Corellian Sector and asks if everything is okay. She assures him that it is, for now, not skirting over the issues at hand. It is as under control as it can be. She is pleased to know her brother survived, even with the extent of his injuries not fully known, but her heart breaks for the loss of Sirona. It hits her almost as hard as the news about Oz and Lysette, but she has fortified herself somewhat at the possibility of greater loss after Alka’s grim outburst. Riley asks what she knew would come next.
“What about Shendo?”
The last of their Force-sensitive refugees with his saber clipped to his belt and Tehk’la blade tucked behind him. Skeptical, but willing. Capable. They may not know him well, but she is not fooling herself when she considers the trust they forged in their time together.
“He has not shown any overt signs of being psychically assaulted or controlled.”
“Neither did Lysette.”
The comment stings but she maintains an even tone, “I imagine the same can be said about Sirona until she was in the right place to strike. This is tactical, Riley, but we should not be quick to turn on one another. They are counting on division as a distraction.”
“That doesn’t mean Shendo didn’t end up with all of you for a reason too.”
Dane made a similar reference, something she has been replaying in her mind ever since their conversation. Many refugees were fleeing the capital when they all came together. It was chaos. Taarek was able to escape with twelve and bring them to the house on Viperii Lake where they waited and comforted one another through training and meditation until they could figure out what came next. His contact, Antaro, escorted the others to a safe house in the Outer Rim, which left Lysette, Oz, Shendo, and Sirona in their care. They were angry, frightened, and forced to run again when their posh hideout was discovered. The details of that split remain hazy in her mind. Had Taarek and Antaro made that decision? Or had Lysette intervened there as well? So much was happening then and so much had happened since that she is not sure she trusts her ability to recall with absolute certainty.
The insinuation remains: is someone waiting for Shendo to move into position? Each of the refugees ended up in a different group when they separated. Was this their own choice, as it appeared at the time, or something more? They may have all been positioned in some way, agents of the prophecy, unwitting or not. The prospect makes her stomach sink, but Demaris does not allow herself to spiral. She believes giving in to conspiracy and paranoia would do more harm than good but admits to herself that Sirona’s message to her brother, through the mysterious woman who destroyed Centerpoint, was likely a warning.
“No,” she says softly, eyes shifting to the Nagai standing alert near the lift. “I suppose it doesn't. We will remain vigilant.”
“Be careful, Demaris. It is growing more difficult to tell who is influencing what, but feel like we are playing right into everyone’s hands.”
With the prophecy revealed to have been active for far longer than anyone realized, the Voss-Ra and their assorted acolytes exerting influence and inflicting terror, the assessment does not ring false. Their advantage in discovering the loop is minimal at best with the depth of planning and possible infiltration still largely out of their grasp. Uncontained. It is a dangerous place to be. Gemma’s fatalist plan, one that Dane and Riley have wildly agreed to, feels more defeatist than she is willing to accept at the moment. She believes there is more than one way to win.
“Keep faith and have hope, my friend. The game may be rigged but it is not over.”
-TBC