CC: The Crimson Covenant

[Syren]

Three months ago

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Serinus

As Garron Prescott gallivants around the city on his personal quest, Darth D'Cera tests the limits of her considerable powers. She quietly enters the simple and innocent mind of Quinn Cavanaugh, instructing her to complete mundane tasks. Quinn makes a few prank calls then fetches a bottle of wine from downstairs. Afterwards, she has no recollection of the events and inquires about the bottle of wine sitting on the nightstand. Dahlia explains it away and Quinn accepts it.
 
The night before the Fashion Week shoots, Georgie brings Dahlia the explosive she requested. She infiltrates Quinn's mind and shows her the device. Quinn sways back and forth, deep in her control. What Dahlia was able to learn from the visions of the past was that Alexia capitalized on the weak minds of Karen's friends. She sees an opportunity to solve a problem and takes it.

"I've grown tired of Counselor Prescott's concern. The trauma of the trial should have sent her into early retirement but instead fortified her resolve. This resolve annoys me and must be stopped. She is a threat to our destabilization efforts. And you are going to help me."

"I will help," Quinn says softly.

Dahlia smiles, pushing further into her mind.

"Good. When I kiss you on both cheeks you will take this device and find Counselor Prescott. She will no doubt be at one of the protest rallies. You will use the device to kill her then you will return to the Menagerie as if nothing has happened. You will remember nothing. Do you understand?"

Quinn nods, "I understand."

Dahlia places the flat, circular bomb in a shoe box and slides it under Quinn's bed.

The following day, after the shoots, at the after party, the RSB agents storm in and apprehend Garron. He gives Georgie the order to take her back to the Corporate Sector. As she says goodbye to Quinn, she kisses her on each cheek before boarding her ship and departing.

Quinn is activated, guided by Dahlia's evil influence as the royal cruiser reaches the upper atmosphere. It is a mental connection she is able to maintain with Georgie at the controls and Garron in RSB custody. She kneels on the floor of the cruiser with her eyes closed, filling Quinn's mind with her commands. Quinn silently retrieving the bomb from the box under her bed and places it in her purse. She slips down the corridor and out through the main entrance. The security guards wave but she breezes by. They think nothing of this because she's just another self absorbed model, one of many housed within the Menagerie. In a hovertaxi, she stares straight ahead.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

"The rally."

"At Inverness Park? You've got to be crazy, girl. That's no place for you."

"Take me to the rally."

Inverness Park South is teaming with people and Quinn pays the driver and weaves her way through the crowds. People are chanting and shouting until Circe Prescott makes her appearance. The Counselor takes the stage and Quinn veers toward it. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops, unfastening her purse to withdraw the device within it. She sets the timer, glances up and hurls the bomb toward the stage before slipping away. It hits the stage and people begin to react as the Jedi to the right of the Counselor grasps what is happening mere seconds before it does.

Quinn is walking steadily down an ally when the bomb explodes, a deafening roar that sends a rush of wind past her. She does not break pace or look back. She returns to the Menagerie to find Escara Wu in her suite.

"Quinn," she scolds, making a face. "Where have you been?"

She glances around, blinking.

"I don't know."

*

Back in the Corporate Sector, Dahlia hears of the explosion and acts appropriately stunned. She is filled with a dark glee that her plan had worked. In the days that followed, she kept watch on the Holo but Quinn's name was never mentioned. The RSB was at a loss. Circe Prescott was dead - One loose end gone that managed to divide the people of the Republic even further. She could not contact the Emperor but fancied that he was watching the same reports with a sense of amazement. Darth D'Cera makes her modeling debut, spins the Speaker mind in circles, and manipulates a dumb blonde into committing an act of terrorism.
 
Time well spent.

*

The present

Corporate Sector

D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate

Dahlia tries on multiple outfits, modeling each one before a mirror. So many parties, so few ensembles to cause a scene. She had rummaged through the wardrobe on the royal cruiser and decided most would make their comeback at a later time with a much larger audience. For now, she is contractually obligated to wear certain labels and sorts through the latest sent to her by VMG. She selects a formal D'jour gown and holds it up in front of her as the com bleeps on her desk. She swats at the controls, activating the line.

"Yes?"

"You will never guess what just happened."

"Hi, Quinn. What's up?"

"Kinsa took me to this new restaurant that is supposedly all the rage and the maître d' completely refused this guys reservation because his name was on the Force User list. It was wild."

"Now there's a scandal. What happened?"

"A heated argument that turned the entire place into a forum for equal rights. People actually came to blows."

"What did you do?"

"Oh, we took selfies with the melee in the background then left. Who could enjoy dinner in that ruckus?"

"Seriously," Dahlia says. "The nerve of some people."

"We can't go anywhere outside of Serinus without seeing some kind of brawl. The RSB have this place pretty locked down but that crazy group with the masks keeps finding ways to sneak out and misbehave. If one more structure fire ruins my evening I'm just going to scream."

"I swear, the upper class is always the ones inconvenienced. Keep me posted."

"Always. Bye!"

Dahlia clicks off and turns back to the mirror. The dress is perfect. So is the unwittingly sweet Quinn when it comes to having the inside scoop. It's nice to hear that the Republic careens dangerously close to the Imperial model. Soon you would not be able to tell the difference. Things may get so bad, the people may actually want the stability of the Empire but they still have a ways to go. The moral struggle makes for damn good Holo and leaves her ample time to perfect her role in the Sector. They don't suspect Quinn and they don't suspect her. She twirls across the room, relishing the feeling of power and control.
 
How marvelous it is to be the one pulling the strings instead of dangling from them.


-TBC

[Medivh]

Korriban

Making the Republic unravel was proving easier than initially planned.  In an entity as large and diverse as the Republic, seeds of doubt and suspicion of others lurked constantly beneath the surface.  Revealing them, fanning them, letting them boil into reality - that was the key.  And things now were definitely boiling.

Adubell smiled as she watched the holo, recording yet another protest, and RSB forces, now wearing far more intimidating riot gear, enter the clash.  She had done well - and so had the young sith, Darth D'Cera.  Her brief time on Chandaar had helped sow more seeds, increased tension, and suffering among key high profile players. The deaths of Circe Prescott and the jedi Atrii - as yet, untraceable to Winton - had been brilliantly orchestrated, and only served to enhance the troubles in the Republic's capital.

It was almost time to move in to the next phase of the plans. D'Cera would do her part, and Adubell would do hers.

Adubell was now on board the wheel - or what had once been the wheel.   Where once there had been spokes and axles and tubes, with open space between, plating had been added, making the wheel into a sphere.  A single gap in the plating remaining, revealing a large hollowed out space on the inside.  And what would fill that space?  Adubell smiled, watching dozens of transports shuffling back and forth between the planet surface and the Wheel.  Each would enter the hollowed out space dump its cargo against the back, and then make the return trip.

And their cargo?  What would appear to most to be a rather benign substance.

soil.  dirt. sand. rock.  The makings of every planet, whether they be covered in water or ice or forest.  No one would suspect anything if they saw earth.

But this was earth from Korriban.  And like the planet itself, it had for centuries been imbued with the dark side.

Adubell watched as ship after ship of earth filled the empty space of the wheel.  It wouldn't fill it entirely - but it would be enough.  When she was done, when the sith were done with the project, it would be enough.  And the galaxy would know it forever.

Adubell moved away from where she was overseeing the project, hurrying now to the shuttle bay where a sith infilitrator was already powered to go.  Work here was on schedule, and she had another task, another project to set into motion.

TBC

[Medivh]

Ruuria

After the debacle at Bastion, the Jedi that had been commanding the respective imperial fleets had been unceremoniously removed from their posts.  But those jedi, on advice from Master Agnant, had not returned to Chandaar. Instead, they stayed on the respective worlds, watching and waiting.

Ruuria was one of the worlds on the trade routes that had been assaulted by the Empire but far enough from the main thrust that the Republic fleet there was relatively small. Master Yin-Go and two younger jedi had been stationed there and for the past several months, had mingled with those on the planet. Waiting for word of things getting better.

Yin-Go made his way out of the turbolift and down the dimly lit hallway to the apartment.  Limited funds were available, naturally, and so the three jedi shared the single-bedroom unit.  He entered the security code and the door opened with a hiss.

Immediately, he sensed something was wrong.  Normally, he felt the presence of the two younger jedi, but now, nothing.  They were supposed to be here.  Taking cautious steps in, his fingers trailed down to the lightsaber at the side of his belt, eyes glancing back and forth.  He rounded a corner and gasped.  There, lying on the floor, were the two young jedi, each cut down, the cauterized cuts of saber wounds riddling their bodies.

"They were easy - I hope you'll be more of a challenge"

Yin-Go's saber ignited blue as he whirled around to find himself faced to face with a grotesque image of a being.

"Whoever you are, you will pay"

The being smiled, her face now lit by a red saber.

"I still haven't paid for killing Master Corrin.  You'll just be adding change to the debt."

Red saber thrust forward, parried by Yin-Go's blue, return attack Yin-Go's blade knocked wide, the red saber slicing forward at the unblocked target, but Yin-Go lept backward toward the kitchen, out of the reach of the red blade.  The attacker's left hand rose,cupped upward then pulled forward, and Yin-Go turned just a cabinet came crashing down over him.

Now there was no respite. His free hand rose, pushing the force to block the falling debris, sword hand moving to block the now constant attacks of the red blade.  Sweat was forming on his brow as he remained on the defensive, more debris and kitchen utensils coming at him, including a set of carving knives.  Several went unblocked, and he could feel the stabbing sting of metal pierce his arm and side.

Adubell slammed her saber hard into his, circled her blade and forced it wide again, knocking his weapon from his hand.  Her red blade circled downward, slicing into his jaw.  Yin-Go's scream turned to a gurgle as Adubell's saber rammed down his throat, then cut through his neck and chest as the jedi collapsed to the ground.

"Too easy"

Adubell extinguished her blade, hand reaching out, and Yin-Go's discarded weapon came to her.  Carefully she tucked it into her own belt, next to the two others she had acquired that day.

From the other side of her belt, Adubell pulled out a thermal detonator, setting it before slipping into the shadows of the night.

TBC

[Medivh]

Telos

Slightly south of Ruuria and still along the Hydian Way, Telos was a world of combined natural beauty, industrial strength, and trade.  The Republic fleet that remained in orbit was constantly on-guard to the possibility of imperial attempts to steal republic resources, or even attempt to reclaim the planet for themselves.  Originally under the command of Jedi Master Waring, a young captain who had served under Master Waring was put in charge after the Battle of Bastion.

Captain Tabat had admired the jedi's skillful application of defense resources.  Telos was not an attack world, but a defensive position, and Waring had overseen construction on two Golan platforms here.  Tabat, dispite the rhetoric against the jedi, believed them faultless, and still called on Master Waring every so often.

Waring himself was in a small, unobtrusive shuttle, his own jedi underlings remaining on the planet's surface as he went to visit the captain on one of the platforms.  His vessel docked and he made his way down the ramp and through the causeway to the captain's private office.

"Come in"

Waring put on a small smile as he stepped in to meet the captain.  What he saw, however, was wholly unexpected.

The captain was sitting in a chair, a glazed look in his eyes as he looked straight through the jedi master.

"thank you for coming.  I've been looking forward to this"

The words came from the captain's mouth, but it was apparent he was not the one behind it.  The door behind the jedi closed, and Waring pulled out his lightsaber, glancing around the room, looking for ...

"You cannot fight what you cannot see"

Again, the captain's mouth moved.

Waring stepped forward, igniting the blade, looking back and forth, searching through the force for the other presence he knew was here.

"Show yourself"

A piercing pain, hit him in his foot, and he glanced down - sticking up out of his boot was a red lightsaber blade.

Waring pushed his weight on his remaining good foot, jumping into the air and landing on the table in front of the captain, ignoring the searing pain in his maimed foot.  Healing would come later.  Now, he had to defend himself.

The floor panel with a smoking hole in it flew up and out she came, gray-skinned monster, her saber glowing as she advanced.

Waring raised his blade in defense, but then he felt himself grabbed from behind - the captain gripping his sword arm, preventing him from blocking as Adubell's blade came, slicing through his neck.

Waring's saber dropped, adubell picking it up and placing it in her belt.  Her hand waived through the air, and Waring's body - and severed head - moved away from the table, hovering in the air by the doorway.  Adubell turned to the captain, condescendingly patting him on the head.

"Good boy"

Adubell waved her arm again, the door swung open and she escorted the hovering remains of Jedi Waring through the door, back down the hallway, to his shuttle.  She let him drop unceremoniously in the small cargo hold, moving to the cockpit, setting the automatic controls.  She slipped out of the vessel as it began to lift away, smirking as it flew out of the docking bay.

*******************
"Captain, we have a ship that appears to be exiting from our docking bay, but we have no reports of it entering"

Captain Tabat shook his head.

"Shoot it down"

"Sir?"

"It's an imperial ship - I've seen this before.  shoot it down before it escapes"

The Golan turned its weapons, firing a series of turbolasers on the shuttle, watching it explode

*******************

The jedi on Telos surface had not heard from Master Waring in far longer than they had expected, and they had felt a keen sense of loss, as if the presence of their master was no longer around.  They worried, and considered contacting the jedi council. Jedi Ami and and Tanya were accutely aware that danger never seemed far from the jedi.

They both moved to the door of their apartment, when it suddenly caved, blasting inward, knocking them to the ground.  Ami rolled left behind a sofa, Tanya ducked behind a desk, each peering up at the door.  In walked a shadowy figure, cloaked in black, with gray skin.

"Stand up you pitiful creatures."

Ami rose first, blue saber igniting in his hand.

"Who are you"

The figure turned to face him.

"I am your killer - but I'd like to see if you are more fun to kill than your master"

Tanya stood, igniting her own green saber.

"Two at a time should at least be some challenge"

Adubell ignited her red blade.

"Now, who first?"

Tanya stalked forward, Adubell turned to face her, evil smile glowing in the mix of green and red light.

"Brave one.  I respect that"

Red saber struck across the middle, blocked by green which in turn struck forward at Adubell's neck - red saber struck green blade wide, Adubell ready to swipe forward, but instead, lifted arms over her head, blocking Ami's strike from behind.

"stabbing even opponents in the back is a sign of cowardice."

She pushed her arms away from her body, pushing his blade and his arms away, then she swung around knocking his blade wide, Adubell turning again to parry Tanya's weapon.

"Such weaklings, you jedi are - two of you cannot over power one, and I even warned you of the fight.  Come on!  Hit me!  Hit me!"

Adubell was spinning back and forth, striking back their attempts to score a hit, and yet it seemed effortless, her movements graceful in their own dark way.  She could feel their frustration, their fear as they continued to be unable to penetrate her defenses, and she fed off it, relishing in it, let it course through her blood.

Finally she tossed her own weapon to ground, putting out her hands on each side of her, stopping the blue and green blades inches from touching her skin.  Try as they might, the two jedi could not bring their blades any closer.

"This, young jedi, is what power feels like"

Adubell took a step back, bringing her spread hands together, watching as Ami and Tanya were flung at each other, their blades piercing into each other's torsos.  They each disengaged their weapons, but each was too much in shock to pull away from each other.

"Close friends you must have been, to die in each other's arms"

Adubell pulled from her belt the lightsaber she had just collected from Master Waring, igniting the blade and slicing it in an arc through the air, decapitating the two younger jedi who now fell to the ground.

Adubell summoned her own saber and that of the jedi to her, dropping a thermal detonator as she made her way out of the room.

TBC

[Syren]

Corporate Sector

D'ian

Princess Dahlia Winton stares at herself in the mirror. By all outward appearances, she looks like the perfect teen. Popular, clever, beautiful, well adjusted. For the most part. She's had to see the school counselor ever since she returned to the Sector after "the incident." That's how her adoptive parents reference the abduction. It was meant to be sympathetic yet sensitive about her ordeal. At least, that's what Celeste said. She was always going on about how to acknowledge things while respecting the feelings of others. As if that served any purpose. Well, how else were they supposed to discuss their daughters kidnapping and subsequent torture? Somehow she senses it's more for their benefit than hers. She tells the counselor what she wants to hear, hitting all the right notes on the road to recovery. A healthy acceptance, she thinks she said.

Dahlia dabs on lip gloss and scrolls through the headlines. It's more of the same, really. A deal here, a takeover there. The Corporate Sector tends to stay on subjects that are financially relevant. She can appreciate that. What good is anything unless you can profit from it? Sure, sure, she does do things for her friends without immediate reward - sisterhood and all that. It's kind of like the long-con of the social world. In the end, the all benefit her in some way. Status, leverage, proximity, access; all good things to have in her back pocket…if she wore things with pockets. On the larger scale, she has her way into the Republic. The contract with VMG ensures her presence several times a year which gives her opportunity to drop in and see how things are going. Spring break is coming up and she looks forward to the visit. Garron is a total mess and could no longer accompany her to Chandaar. So much rage in that man. She supposes that's what you get with a dead sister and revoked travel privileges. She should know. Both her sisters are dead.

It would be just her and the shape-shifting Voss-Ra disciple Georgie who would swing by Ambaril and shake things up. She got rid of that pesky Counselor Prescott with the added bonus of torching her Jedi companion. With the borderline maniacal Speaker Apteen now out of the way, the playing field is wide open. Some people just can't handle their dark energy. Guess he wasn't cut out for the shadows. She sees that the Speaker's right hand, Senator Ingrat could be a contender along with Artemis Soldys from Corellia. She might be able to hang with Ingrat since he was most likely exposed to copious amounts of the darkness as well but Soldys? Those Corellian's just cause all sorts of trouble. Just look at all the damage Kimber did and she was riding a fine line between being cute and mentally disabled. Not to mention the pedophile philandering of Major Patten and drunken exploits of Valerie Gellar.

Artemis Soldys may be shiny on the surface but that uptight, morally righteous, go-getter attitude has got to go. If he makes a play for Speaker, she might have to sick a mindless Quinn on his ass just for the potential sex-scandal publicity. What a spectacular fall that would be. The rising Corellian star obliterated by perversion. There are also rumors circulating the Holo, sudden buzz about Gil Leeds. She pulls up his bio and sees he hasn't really been a power player within the Senate. She pauses on his homeworld, Contruum, and it strikes something in her. She's heard that planet referenced before.

Dahlia searches a bit of history until she comes upon the Winton name. She cross-references with Carlson's story. That's right, a clueless Karen scored Contruum for the Empire after she was forced into the Diploserve program. She and the then-Governor, Indew Strye had quite the history. According to the official entry, one of the conditions of Karen's little deal was that there would be no Imperial garrison's or presence on the borium rich world. That didn't last long and soon those shipyards were jammed with Star Destroyers. Kimber Patten was assigned as a replacement counselor, not the wisest Imperial choice, but from what she reads there was a fair amount of blackmail involved. And, in the most interesting piece of Kimber's colorful history, her tactics in handling a negotiation with the Hapan's led to an Admiral's abduction and death. Later, Karen returned to retrieve her friend after banging the Emperor then absconded with Governor Strye and he was never seen or heard from again. Dahlia wonders how that turned out for him. The world belonged to the Empire until Dementat's death after which the Republic began its expansion. Why would Leeds even be considered? She decides to inquire further when she returns to Chandaar during break.

The more pressing issue is Gemma who is always sneaking off to go on "walks" or "write music." Her love of nature and music aside, it became a little too suspicious. Dahlia followed her one afternoon and watched as another figure appeared when Gemma cleared the woods. The woman wore a beige cloak with a hood but she turned enough for Dahlia to see her face.

It was the Jedi Nevylinn.

Does she even have a last name? Dahlia has to laugh. She has been lurking around ever since her friends got tossed out from under the Senate Hall. Officially, she was supposedly here to oversee Republic affairs but that story fell apart pretty quickly when the Jedi got scores of people killed in battle. Since then she has kept to herself and it makes sense she would stick around. Dane said she and Gemma bonded on Naboo which is why he promptly left them there and took a joyride over to Corellia. Dane is another story entirely but he's a perfect spy except when it comes to Gemma. She tells him nothing of interest, even in casual conversation. Either she's on to him or she's playing it pretty close to the chest.

Dahlia watches Gemma very carefully when she's around. She acts no differently than she has in the past, not cagey nor distracted. Still, she feels like the blonde is hedging a little too close to Melanie territory with the patron saint routine. Always obedient, studious, does the right thing. It's annoying. Dahlia is convinced Gemma is a closeted Jedi, a fact that would send Lady Masterton into an early grave. In the photage Adubell showed her, a Masterton murdered a Winton.

Wouldn't it be a kick if a Winton had to return the favor?



-TBC

[Medivh]

Toprawa

A remote forested world that lay on the Hydian Way, it had been home to a research center that helped develop the death star super laser, and had been the location from which the rebel alliance transmitted the death start plans to Princess Leia Organa.  The world had been punished subsequently, under the oppressive rule of the Empire, and had only been freed when the Empire contracted after the Battle of Centerpoint, ten years ago.  The local populace still felt the stings of imperial rule.

The Republic had been sensitive to the population's needs, the defensive fleet assigned to Toprawa larger than the planet was strategically worth as a sign of good faith.  Jedi Master Bolden, the youngest of the jedi council, had spent much of his time on this world basking in the natural surroundings and developing relationships with locals.

Today, the sun was shining as he was using the forest to illustrate the connections of the force to the three jedi who were with him.

"Yoda used to say that the Force is around you - between you, me, the tree, the rock, everwhere.  We are luminous beings, that can touch everything in ways more than just our hands"

"It's true - you can also be impaled, screaming in agony"

Bolden turned to see a grotesque female, gray skinned and wearing dark robes approaching.

"Who are you?"

"I was just commenting on your lesson, Master jedi.  And also, I thought I would provide perspective for your students"

Bolden narrowed his eyes.  The woman radiated the dark side of the force.

"You are the one - whose been causing the disappearances"

Adubell bowed lowly

"Guilty as charged."  she stood straight again. "I find the jedi are a nuisance, better off not being around"

"We cannot let you get away with what you've done"

"Excellent.  Draw your weapons, and let's see if four of you can overpower one of me.  Your friends proved ... unimpressive.  The last two impaled themselves on each other's blades, it was quite gruesome and agonizing, I must say."

By now, the four jedi had pulled out their lightsabers and ignited them: a green, two blues, and a yellow-hued blade.

Adubell turned her eyes from one to the next, taking a deep breath before springing herself high into the air, landing on a firm tree branch and staring down at them.

"Let's make this fun"

Out came her own lightsaber, red blade sliced through the wood of the branch on which she stood. The branch gave way, smoking slightly where she had cut and falling down over the jedi. Adubell meanwhile had leaped to a second branch, hewing a third as she passed it.

The jedi beneath scrambled to step away from the falling timber, watching as Adubell danced through the branches.

"Shall we follow her?"

Bolden shook his head "In the trees, we would be facing her one-on-one, and I have no doubt that she has the advantage in such a scenario."

Adubell finally pierced her blade into the heart of the tree trunk, holding the hilt and sliding down the tree.  As she landed on the ground, she flourished her blade one more time, the tree, split, falling to either side.

"Wanton destruction - what did that do for you"

"I wanted the firewood"

Bolden's blade was in the air, blocking as Adubell's red blade came screaming down.  She struck again and again, Master Bolden forced back several steps, trying to hold off the quick, repeated onslaught, until he tripped on one of the logs that had been cut down.  Adubell prepared a strike, when the three other jedi lunged forward with their own blades, blocking Adubell from taking advantage.  She quickly blocked one, then turned her blade around and slammed the second blade into the third, twisting her own saber and forcing all three of the jedi back several steps, before again striking out, right hand holding her weapon, letting one jedi parry, left hand waived through the air and a particular large splinter of wood sailed through the air, pinning the jedi's arm against a nearby tree. Adubell wasted no more time, arm sliding downward and slicing off the jedi's sword arm.  His saber fell to the ground and deactivated.  Adubell prepared for the kill when Bolden, recovered, blasted forward, this time on the offensive.  His strikes were aggressive, and Adubell actually stepped back against the pressure, blocking each movement.  She heard the crack of wood beneath her, and with an evil smirk, flung her left hand forward, the wood lifting off the ground and jamming Bolden in the gut.

The jedi master nearly dropped his weapon, stumbling back a few steps, and Adubell was back on the offensive, flipping through the air and making a downward strike against the reeling jedi, only to have it again deflected by one of the other jedi.  The one with the lost arm had grabbed his saber with his still good hand and had rejoined the fight, and now the four jedi surrounded Adubell, blades at the ready to strike.

"Not bad.  But I bet you'll never be ready for this"

She flung her weapon far into the air, directed toward another large tree limb nearby.  Two of the younger jedi, seeing Adubell unarmed rushed in, ready to strike, but faster than they could react, Adubell had pulled two cylinders from her cloak activating them and spinning around with her arms outstretched.  From one hand, a blue blade, from another, a green blade, and the two hasty jedi found themselves sliced in half.

Adubell turned to Master Bolden, his remaining pupil moving opposite him.

"I want to thank your colleagues for the extra weaponry"

Bolden was breathing heavy, but Adubell was not done playing.  She feinted an attack with one blade, the struck hard with the second, again, Bolden on the defensive, the other remaining jedi student moving forward to support his master, adubell spinning and slamming her right saber against his, knocking it clean out of his hands.  She dropped the blade, using her hand and lifting the jedi into the air, using the Force to push him hard into a sturdy, sharp tree branch.  The jedi flailed around for several minutes before going limp.  Adubell meanwhile turned on Bolden whose attacks were more ferocious, but also more desperate.  Adubell blocked each of his attacks, slowly retreating backward until coming around the tree stump of the tree she destroyed.

"Enough of this"

From the remains of the tree, dozens of small splinters lifted into the air, smacking into Bolden, who was parrying against them. More and more wood chips fired at him, and finally, several hit their mark, cutting into his thighs and upper arms.  He was limping backward as Adubell went on the offensive again, Striking downward hard, Bolden holding up his blade as Adubell continued pushing hers down. With her free hand, she grabbed a splinter from the ground, jamming it upward, underneath his blade, into his throat.

Bolden dropped his weapon, sputtering out blood, Adubell sweeping her weapon down and slicing off his legs.

As Bolden's movements began to grow more erratic, Adubell smiled.

"See?  Now you are connected with nature"

She collected her cloak, and each of the fallen lightsabers, including her own.  The fallen wood, that she said she needed for firewood was just that - for the next several hours, the bodies of the jedi burned, and by morning, there was nothing left of them but ash.

TBC

[Syren]

Hyperspace

With her trunks packed, Dahlia sets off for Chandaar in the Royal Cruiser piloted by the Voss-Ra spy, Georgie. While she is thankful to be rid of Garron's irritating oversight, she did gain a fashionable passenger in Janessa Kain. The liaison had to return to the Republic some time and the fallout surrounding Apteen's assassination seemed opportune. The RSB would undoubtedly be focused on that and leave Janessa the hell alone. After what they did to Garron, she isn't surprised to read of the excessive force suit brought against them by Kaytt Corinthos. Director Drakos is scheduled to appear this week.
 
Janessa is still stung by Circe's death. Although she would never admit it in public, she admired the Counselor. The kind of passion that drives someone to champion the rights of those who would turn on you exists in very few. A part of her had stayed away to compose herself. Garron is justifiably leveled but their complicated web of grief-fueled sex was enough to ease her suffering. She can't say the same for him. The physical connection is explosive but for him it fell more along the lines of self-destruction and blame. His emotional void turns her on unlike anything she has ever experienced. She watches the stars streak beyond the viewport and ponders her next move appearing before a Senate in turmoil.

There is only one goal for the CSA; stabilize the Republic deals by any means necessary. They could care less about their moral dilemmas so long as profits continued to grow. Their main obstacle is Corellia, who had managed to pull several contracts away from the Corporate Sector. ExO Iver Aguilar had instructed her to inquire into any "vulnerabilities." With Corellia and the Republic at large, there is no shortage. Aguilar suggested she exploit them.

Dahlia primps in her quarters. A carefully released brief by Escara Wu set the Holo ablaze with rumors of her return to Chandaar. Her namesake garners fanfare as well as suspicion; two aspects she will play into in order to build her brand. Dahlia is the anti-Alexia/Karen with a clue. While Alexia was completely insane, Karen came off, at least in some regard, as an elevated every-girl. She was fun and likable. Mostly. Dahlia aims for something more enigmatic and unattainable. What good is celebrity if you aren't living a life and wearing things the kids couldn't even begin to afford but would spend their time and credits clamoring to achieve? Karen may have been oblivious to the most significant part of her existence but she did one thing flawlessly – she made victimization glamorous. The public rallied around her and her friends in times of peril. She put a pretty face on senseless tragedy and everyone ate it up. When Dahlia appeared in that courtroom, she essentially one-upped the elder Winton in that category.

The long-lost Winton royal kidnapped and tortured before her heroic escape.

It was a made-for-Holo publicity powerhouse. Now that she has pulled herself from the wreckage of her ordeal and turned her tragedy into a public career, she has won the hearts and minds of millions. True, there are skeptics; the Jedi being the most obvious of those. What is that Winton girl up to? That face may scream innocence but those eyes say she is definitely up to something. Thankfully, the Jedi won't be sitting around conjuring up theoretical motives for her visit. Everyone else would be so busy with handling their own self-made crisis's – Speaker elections, public backlash over FURA, The Concealed's meddling, RSB's ongoing investigations and the lawsuit against them – that no one would really care about a model and her banal, superficial adventures.

As she sorts through her things, she finds the box left by Georgie. He had grunted something about it as he delivered her trunks but it had slipped her mind until now. She locks her cabin door before opening it. The interior contains a black, temperature regulated case with a note.

It reads: Field Subject

Dahlia carefully opens the lid, a small bit of steam escaping. There is a syringe fastened in the center filled with a deep, blue liquid. It is labeled with a thin white strip and black, bolded letters.

Ibellum.




-TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

Word had reached the jedi master that Corellia would (secretly, of course), be willing to take in the scattered jedi from around the Republic and the galaxy.  And the news seemed to come not a moment too soon.

He had not heard from the missing jedi on half a dozen worlds, and reports were coming in that the last known locations of the jedi were destroyed - by explosive or fire or other means. No trace of the jedi or their assailant had been found.

Nor had the change in leadership within the New Republic made any substantive difference  to the predicament.  Upon being sworn in as speaker, Gil Leeds said he was returning his focus of government on the war with the Empire, who had in recent days begun pestering the REpublic frontier with raids again.  When pressed, on the question of the FURA, he said that he believed that the act had been abused by law enforcement, and that he was investigating the practices of the RSB, but that for the moment, he wasn't going to push for changes in the law, instead, asking for the populace to be patient.

Indeed, after the recent assassinations, Leeds presence did seem to calm stormy waters somewhat, with protests becoming more orderly and the Concealed, while still rumored to be around, had decided to lay low.

All of that may have been positive for the Republic, and for a senate turning in on itself, but it did not help the jedi, who still suffered from severe restrictions.  He was hoping in the coming weeks to meet with the new speaker, but with jedi disappearing, fighting the FURA had taken a back seat.


Master Agnant was in the small, rundown apartment packing a small bag when he felt it - danger, drawing near.  He turned abruptly to see her walking toward him, slowly.  Adubell smiled.

"Master Agnant - are you going somewhere?"

The smile was almost as grotesque as the creature who wore it.  Agnant eyed her cautiously as she continued to walk toward him.  He recognized her - recognized her enough, at least, to know who she was. Or who she had been.

"You were killed.  Dahlia Winton killed you. I saw your body."

She shook her head.

"I'm not so easily killed.  In fact, I don't believe I can be killed at all."

"You've murdered quite a few jedi"

"Not enough. I'm here to finish one more"

"I think you might underestimate me, sith"

She paused, quirking her head sideways for just a moment.

"You call me a sith - and you assume I'm the one who underestimates you?  Foolish, foolish jedi.  I am more powerful than you can ever be.  I am immortal.  And by day's end, I will live, and you will die"

She didn't wait for his response, instead, leaping forward, red bladed saber igniting in midair with a downward stroke where his head had been.  Agnant's saber was already lit by the time the strike came, and he parried it aside, taking a step back to balance himself.  Adubell began an aggressive series of attacks, Each one blocked by Agnant, who remained defensive, never following up with a strike of his own.  He watched, each move she made, jump, thrust, swing - each step forward.  For several minutes this went on, Adubell the aggressive attacker, Agnant blocking on the defensive, but never breaking  a sweat, staying calm, and refusing to engage in the attack more than necessary.

Adubell, for her part, kept up the assault, seemingly tiredless herself.  But that didn't mean she wasn't growing inpatient.

"Come on!  fight me!"

Swing, parry

"Fight ME!"

thrust, jump

"Spineless jedi, put up a fight!"

strike, strike, strike, strike.

She swung the weapon forward and he blocked again, this time harder than the last, then reached out with a hand and sent a push through the force, sending her careening against the opposite wall.

She regained her composure, the jedi still standing there, unwavering.

"You know, you aren't much fun"

"You are trying to kill me, am I supposed to be having fun"

Adubell shucked her cloak from her body, letting it fall on the ground.  Beneath, a skin-tight jumpsuit with a utility belt, lined with multiple light sabers.

"Do you like my trophies?  I hope so"

She pulled out a second blade, igniting a blue, and then came at him again, this time, double attacking each time, each arm working independently of the other, allowing strikes to come from either the same direction or utter opposites.  Now Agnant began to feel the pressure, his defensive moves going back and forth to counter two sabers at a time.  His wrist twisted back and forth blocking each move, and Adubell's onslaught grew ever more intense, hammering at him.  FInally, he was forced back, and taking a deep breath, he pressed forward with an attack, knocking her arms to one side as he zoomed in his blade.  Adubell twisted in time, parrying his blade away with one strike and swinging at him with a second.

Agnant twisted his arm upward, knocking one blade into the second, Adubell crossing her two blades to block his, then sliding them forward, closed to him.  Agnant's weapon swung in a wide arc, moving beneath her weapons, then he smacked her arms hard upward, high over her head.  His blade swung quickly, slicking into her exposed neck.

Only it didn't - just as his lightsaber connected with her gray flesh, it sparked and went out.

Agnant didn't have time to respond, dropping his own blade and grabbing a cylinder from her belt, pushing her back with a leg just as her two weapons were coming down against him.  He ignited the new saber, a yellow blade, holding it in front of him in a blocking position.

"How?"

She smiled.

"The beauty about being me - You cannot kill me - my skin is laced with cortosis alloy.  Your saber is useless against me."

She ran forward to strike again, his arms up, blocking as she struck time after time after time. He continued to block, never again attempting to strike her, instead just blocking her constant onslaught, and he found himself being pushed backward until pressed against a wall. She struck again and he lept out of the way, her blade slicing through the wall and sending smoke up toward the ceiling.

He ran toward the door, pressing the button before feeling searing pain in his leg - Adubell had thrown one of the lightsabers at him, hitting his right calf.  He turned abruptly to see her coming toward him, swinging the saber in his hand over his head into the ceiling, letting the structure come down between him and his attacker.  He then turned again, limping, out the door, running to the sewer entrance in the center of the street.  Even as he stepped out, he could hear her bursting through, and he jumped down the hole, feeling the pain in his leg even more accutely at the impact - then hobbling to a small crevice around the corner.

He could hear her land in the sewer, wrapping the force around himself to hide his presence.  Then he waited. Silence. He couldn't even hear the hum of a lightsaber.

Then BOOM - he could feel the heat of the explosion, and he was knocked, hard out of his hiding place, into the center of the sewer tunnel.  He felt burns on his flesh, and he could no longer stand.  He saw the shadowy figure approaching and he clawed with his arm to pull away.  Red hue of her saber reflected on her face.  She lifted it high and brought it down.  His arm went up, white energy exuding from it, casting a protective force shield around him.  Her blade was pushing down against it, and his face felt the pain and agony of the explosion and of his efforts.  Sparks flew as she pushed down with her weapon, the Force alone his protection against her.  His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, trying to call on the Force, to strengthen the shield.  But he was weakened.  Her weapon drew closer and closer to him as the shield began to contract, finally red blade reached his hand, slicing between fingers, the smell of burnt flesh permeating as his force shield collapsed.

She stood over him, and he made a last desperate attempt, kicking out with his legs, but she had the upper hand - she sidestepped, then brought down her weapon, slicing off his legs and the remains of his arms.

"Turns out, that became fun after all"

She turned her saber straight down, piercing into the center of his gut, watching him writhe in pain, breathing growing difficult, she moved the saber up his body toward his lungs.

A gurgling noise came from his mouth as he began to spit up blood, eyes growing faint  and finally lifeless as her blade seared through his heart.  He twitched a moment longer  before being still.  She bent down, placing a second explosive in his bloodied mouth, setting the timer and picking up the saber the jedi had taken from her.  That was her trophy.

And one more as well, sitting in the dilapidated apartment upstairs.

Then on for the hunt.

Later that day, news reports of an explosion effecting the sewer systems and water lines broke out, rumor of a gas leak, but the investigation was inconclusive.

TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Serinus

The warehouse is freezing but Dahlia manages to keep her lip from quivering. There is an industrial chic vibe happening with the beautiful girls posing in what is essentially a construction site. Dahlia thrusts out her right hip and stares longingly over her shoulder until the photographer tells her to stop. She is pliable and easygoing, everyone commenting on how sweet she is.

As if they have a clue.

It's been hours and she's had a bottle of water and three crackers. Typical well-balanced meal for a model. Her stomach is growling and the thought of gorging herself on the fresh fruit and vegetables waiting for her in the suite in The Menagerie makes her weak in the knees. No wonder everyone looks pained. They are probably starving. Mercifully, the photographer has everything he needs and they are dismissed. Dahlia struts over to the changing area and gingerly slips out of the shimmering Nalaa Grey gown and pulls on a more sensible skirt and sweater. She pulls her crimson hair into a loose pony tail and throws on a pair of giant black sunglasses. Even though it's overcast outside, they are a necessary shield.

The sun is always shining when you're cool.

The girl who played Karen in the Vogue Empire movie said that. Was it a phrase her sister had coined? A quotable one-liner by a witty writer? Who knows? The point is that it's relevant and she's zoning out on the short ride back to her lavish digs. Quinn is waiting for her, having come from a shoot in Five Points. Her eyes are shaded silver and she looks exhausted.

"Today was grueling."

"Tell me about it," Dahlia says, making a break for the fruit tray. She inhales several squares of some kind of exotic melon and leans on the dresser in ecstasy. "Maker Almighty this is good."

"You eat?"

"Three times a day if not more. That's the staple."

"Not for me," Quinn says, fishing out a pill from her bag. She tosses it back with a shot of bottled water.

"What is that?"

"These new diet pills."

This implies there were old ones.

"But you're a size two."

"I could be a size zero."

"Yeah," Dahlia says. "If that whole sexy waif corpse thing from 3BBY was still in."

"It's retro."

"It's dangerous. Besides, food is good. Perks of our popularity include tables in the most exclusive restaurants with the best chefs. That's half the reason I do this."

Quinn smiles, "What's the other half?"

"Galactic domination."

She laughs, "You are too funny!"

"I'm a riot."

Still, there is concern. The parallel lines between Quinn and Muriel are not lost on her. Does she have a type? Does she attract the girl-in-crisis? Both have been practically abandoned by their parents with more money than they could ever spend. There are seemingly inevitable trappings trying to find a balance. The last thing she wants to do is have Quinn almost die on her too. Unless, of course, that thing she's supposed to inject Quinn with kills her.

The syringe is still packed neatly in one of her trunks. She knows what she is supposed to do but finds herself wondering what will happen. Her silent partners within the Empire and the Voss-Ra wouldn't set her up for a murder charge so it must do something else. If Quinn doesn't feel she has a purpose, she's about to. Probably a sinister one too. Dahlia has been trying to formulate a plan to discreetly administer the mystery agent. A needle that large would have to go into a thigh or buttocks. But it would also leave a considerable bruise and hurt like hell. Even if Quinn was under Dahlia's spell she would feel it afterwards.

Tough to explain.

Her mind also trails across to Speaker Leeds and his agenda. She read that the war effort against the Empire had been renewed yet the FURA and other questionable tactics have been ignored. She can't wait to see how the Empire will respond. Counselor Corinthos grilled RSB Director Drakos over excessive force during the civilian protests. He admitted to "mistakes" in handling certain situations but remained firm in his blame on The Concealed's influence turning the protests violent. Wonder if the jury will buy that. There is also a request from the reporter Selene Silvestri to appear on her Holo-cast, a request that has been emphatically denied by Escara Wu. It would not be in her best mysterious interest to be scrutinized by the tenacious Holo personality. She prefers to let them all wonder, only see glimpses of the redhead with a sly smile.
 
Quinn's voice jars her out of the introspection.

"Are we doing something tonight?"

"Not dinner, apparently," Dahlia quips.

"If I order an appetizer will you agree to go?"

"It has to be, like, a large appetizer. Something fried."

Quinn makes a face.

Dahlia sighs.

"Fine, at least a seasonal salad."

"Done."

She squeals and heads into the bathroom to shower. Dahlia wanders to the exposed rack of clothing and finds something suitably understated. It's just dinner, after all. She needs to save the spectacular looks for the high profile events. Quinn's purse lies open on the bed. Dahlia finds the small bottle inside. No label. Always a safe bet. No warning to tell you to rethink what you are doing to your body. She tosses them back and turns toward the bathroom, the sound of the refresher at full blast creeping through the door. Across the room, she finds a purse that would conceal the syringe case then ensures it does not clash with her dress. A night out would be fun, full of opportunities to find out just what kind of subject Quinn is going to be.



-TBC

[Medivh]

Besh-Gorgon System
Former Location of the Wheel

Master Manoth and his squad of jedi pilots were practicing maneuvers among the debris.  Leftover hulks of metal that had not yet been salvaged after the imperial attack, the Wheel's disappearance, and subsequent imperial withdrawal, proved a fabulous training ground to keep their skills sharp.  Despite the renewed war effort against the Empire, this once bustling center of trade and primary target was now basically abandoned. Even the Republic navy wasn't using it much anymore. That made it all the easier to be a center of operations without dealing with Republic laws.

Lasers were set on "tag" mode, allowing the ability to acquire, aim, and fire at targets without any damage in the exercise.

"Red Five, coming in"

"Blue two, responding"

The squad had been broken up into two teams for the exercise, R5 and B2 circling around a larger piece of debris, each trying to hit the other.  Their teammates were cheering them on, as they dipped into the hollowed out remains of an old freighter, laughing and waiting for their turns, when suddenly there was an explosion.  Fire erupted from the hull of the freighter, and while two ships had entered, only one came out, looking battered and bruised.

"This is Red-5 ... Red-5, seeking assistance.  Repeate, Red-5 seeking assistance"

The fighter was spinning wildly, and Master Manoth brought his firespray forward, activating a tractor beam to stabilize the vessel.

"Hang on, red... what happened"

"Don't know - we were firing blanks at each other, and then something sparked."

There was a hissing noise over the comm link.

"Master, I'm leaking oxygen"

"Put your mask on, I'm going to tow you in"

The firespray made a nimble turn and began pulling the fighter back toward the platform that worked as the base.  That was when the second ship came out of the hull.

It was not Blue-2.  The ship looked like a larger version of an advanced TIE fighter with an elongated forward section. It was moving fast, straight toward Master Manoth's vessel.

"Master! Look out!"

The tractor beam was deactivated, and Mannoth turned his ship to face the new visitor, who had opened fire with rapid lasers of its own.  The wounded Red-5, with shields already down, burst into flames, the remaining four fighters and the firespray now speeding up to engage.

"That's a sith ship!"

Whoever the stranger was, they were ignoring the smaller snub fighters, focusing its power on the Firespray.

The jedi zoomed in to offer support, and Manoth responded with his own rapid fire, impacting several times on the sith-ship's shields.

The ship barrel-rolled away, then turned abruptly striking a series of laser bolts and the undercarriage of one fighter.  The vessel ignited into a ball of flames, and the jedi had diminished even more.

The sith now began flying hard away  from the jedi, who were following close on its tail.

There was a sudden surge through the force, as if two hands had gribbed wo of the three fighters and pushed them together, obliterating both.

One fighter left, still in pursuit, plus the firespray.

"Call off your pursuit"

"Master?"

"The sith is a better pilot and fighter than you.  We need to live another day."

"But master I-"

The sentence never finished.  From the rear of the sith ship, a mine had been deployed and activated, and the jedi fighter went right through it.  Boom

Manoth cursed, turning a spray of fire on the sith ship which was making a wide loop around his position.

Manoth, rather than following, turned his ship another direction, intent on warning the jedi of the threat.

The sith had other ideas.  Manoth watched as his clear path was suddenly marred by flying debris.  Now he was on the defensive, forced to spin and dive and twirl as if he was in an asteroid field.  At the same time, there was now laser fire again coming close from the background.  Mannoth twirled his ship to face his attacker, letting off a ream of firepower - only to find that he was firing now at the sith ship, but at a mine.

He reached the mine just as it exploded, His firespray taking on heavy damage, the hissing of gases escaping, alarms sounding.  He pressed the ship on auto-pilot, hurrying to the back to don an oxygen suit pulling down the latch, and watching the doorway get sucked out into space, him along with it.  His exit happened seconds before the ship was again targeted by the enemy, this time disappearing in its own ball of flame.

Mannoth floated about for several minutes, when he saw the sith ship approaching, slowing down even as it did.  He could see through the glass, the woman, grayish skin, dressed in black, an evil smirk on her face.

He watched as she pulled the trigger and then watched no more.

TBC

[Syren]

"Karen she's the silver sun, you best walk her way and watch it shine,
watch her watch the morning come."

-James Taylor

Hesperidium

Surface

The luscious resort moon lay deep in Imperial territory.

Just off the Metellos Trade Route, it is the furthest in orbit from where Old Coruscant once was and had been utilized by the Empire throughout its history. Luckily, it was left unscathed after Coruscant's destruction and, as a result, has a premiere view of the electrically charged asteroid field that remains.

Most outsiders would not be welcomed here.

Thankfully, the Corporate Sector and Empire maintain a lucrative business partnership. Key CSA officials were often treated to trips here while conducting business. In the tropical regions, there are a series of islands widely considered the gem of the moon. They are the reason people come here to let their troubles melt away. The largest island is called Iobatese which houses the central spaceport and government facilities. The west beach on Iobatese is where the entertainment district is located, full of restaurants and nightclubs such as the Bistro Bibliotheca and famous Club Hex. While there are residences on Iobatese it is the smaller islands that are the biggest draw. Stunning azure panoramic and white sand beaches, only the most affluent could even dream of owning a piece.

It is the island Diamant where this scene is set.

The Bolerathon Tower lies on the east end of Imperial Beach, a towering luxury monolith atop which sits the most coveted real estate on the moon. The glittering and unobstructed ocean views keep the units below full. Built as a joint venture between Alexander Winton and Henrick Masterton, they and their respective wives made a killing with the investment. As each of the shareholders were killed (see: murdered), sole ownership converted to Celeste Masterton for being the sole survivor. She had held onto the property, despite the somewhat painful association, and parlayed the profits into three trust funds for Dahlia, Gemma and Dane. Celeste wanted to ensure a solid future for her children and the guilt over her role in the prophecy kept her from using any of those profits for anything other than that future.

The top floor contains only two residences, the Winton and Masterton Penthouse's. There is no public access and the private landing pads are tucked out of sight on either side of the tower. Dahlia sets the royal cruiser down on the one marked with a W.

That must be hers.

Everyone had crashed out, completely wiped from the long trek. Dahlia wakes them and heads down the ramp and over to the platform door. The early summer sun warms her skin. She touches her key against the pad and a light turns green before the door hisses open. She enters a small hall which leads to a ramp and another door with a key pad. After punching in the code, the second door hisses open and she steps into a large foyer. To the left is the door from the corridor and to the right, a few steps that open up into the living room. There are wrap around windows that extend the length of the residence and a massive balcony curved down and around. The security detail exit into the corridor and take designated positions. Dahlia fiddles with the control panel on the wall, opening windows to let the ocean breeze sweep through. She had ordered the fridge and pantry to be stocked.

She takes it all in as Trichelle, Muriel, Demaris, Kier and Ples enter.

"Oh, Dahl," Muriel says, breathless. "This is gorgeous."

"Wow," Kier breathes, falling onto the couch.

Ples nods, "This is all yours?"

Dahlia smirks.

"Uh huh. Perks of being the last Winton."

"Morbid much?" Trichelle says. "I'm actually surprised your mother kept it considering all that happened here."

Muriel turns around.

"What do you mean?"

"A lot of people died here. Like, didn't your sister's doctor friend get butchered on the couch?"

Kier immediately stands up, arms out.

"Wait, what?"

Dahlia waves a hand through the air as it brushing it off.

"She wasn't killed there. She was just...displayed there. At least get the lurid details right if you are going for the shock factor. Besides, half the things in that movie were made up."

"The movie maybe," Trichelle presses. "But not the documentary. That guy did, like, massive research and had her friends as sources that lived through it. Until, you know, they didn't."

Kier struts around the living room.

"So, this is where Karen Winton hung out. Crazy. Imagine the parties that happened here. I guess the legacy will live on."

"That's the plan," Dahlia says, glaring at Trichelle.

Demaris stares through the window to the sparkling sea far below.

"I dunno, it's kind of creepy knowing The Four stayed here. Like we're vacationing with ghosts."

No one says anything to dispute this.

Demaris is still raw about losing Donovan and has become prone to melodramatic statements. Since Dahlia is pretty much responsible for that, she thought this would be the perfect thing to cheer her up. Nothing like a little fun in the sun to forget a brother blown to bits.

The living room is done is tasteful neutrals with sparse yet expensive abstracts. The largest hangs above the mantle, a colorful yet turbulent piece, signed McNeal in careful black strokes in the bottom right corner. There are decorative accents throughout but nothing garish. Everything is seemingly understated as if not to draw attention away from the view.

The group sets out to find suitable rooms. There are quite a few to choose from and everyone scouts for the best location. Dahlia finds the room that was clearly Karen's. It is painted a faded sage color with charcoal trim. There is a bed, desk and vanity which she browses. The pictures on the wall are the exploits of a long dead group of friends. They all seem so happy and aware in the photage. Not a care in the worlds. She supposes that was true at one time.

Dahlia pulls open the closet and steps inside. It is filled with so many dresses and pairs of shoes that she feels weak in the knees. This was Karen's arsenal. So many lovely things to distract her from the truth. Dahlia may revel in the spoils but she would not be blinded by it.

She moves back out into the room, spotting a picture tucked into the side of the vanity mirror. In it is a gorgeous couple, caught in a stolen moment of laughter. The man with the sharp features and fiery hair and the exotic woman with a sultry gaze. Her parents. She stares at them with a mixture of emotions. There is no certainty since she will never know them. All she has is their memory, things they left behind, and famed stories. Her father was a rich jerk with a supreme agenda and her mother a royal idealistic dreamer who defied him by giving her youngest daughter to an enemy.

Kier's voice booms through the hall.

"We have ale!"

She laughs and is about to respond when Muriel wanders in. She looks around, touching the edge of a picture frame near the door.

"This is your sister's room?"

"Yeah."

"How does it feel?"

Dahlia takes a deep breath then exhales.

"Feels right."



-TBC

[Medivh]

Corporate Sector

D'ian: Surface: Viiperi Lake

An unseen shadow descended from the night sky, landing only a short distance from the lake house.  With engines powered off, only the keenest of eyes would see it.  The soft chirping of insects filled the air as a solitary figure made its way through the darkness, to the back entrance of the home.

It is early evening, but the lights are off inside.

A hand waves in a semi-circular motion and the door clicks open.

As Adubell steps inside, the motion lights are activated by her presence, she takes a quick look around.  Nobody is here to be alerted to her presence.  That mattered little.  to her.

"Oh, little sister"

Adubell's voice was mocking as she began to stalk around the room, hands lazily swinging, passing by her belt with its saber.  Even if she was surprised (unlikely) she would be ready to strike back too quickly for her opponent to benefit.  Not that even a death strike would really kill her.

"Come on, Nevylinn, I just want to talk. It's been so long"

She made her way down the hallway to the bedrooms.  The silence was growing annoying, and rather than open the door, she kicked it, wood splintering where she struck it and door hitting the wall with a loud bang.

"Come on, little sister.  Where are you?"

In the bedroom, she flung an arm wide, yanking the closet open through the Force.  No one here, and the closet was empty.  Nor did she detect the presence of another Force user.  Nothing PRESENT, though there was a clear lingering signature.  Nevylinn HAD been here - but wasn't here now.

"Oh, don't tell me tonight was the night you decided to go on the town.  I hate waiting"

Adubell swung an arm upward, and the bed in the room flung upward as well. Nothing there either.

Adubell stormed out of the first bedroom and went on to each of the others, reaching the last room and tearing the door off the hinges entirely.

Like all the other rooms, the closet was empty.

Adubell's face darkened - as if that was possible.

"Maybe not just a night out, hmm?  Maybe you decided too much luxury for the jedi ... or maybe, you were warned I was coming ..."

She flung the bed in this room aside as well, letting her anger flow through her, feeding her energy.

"That's what I get for saving you for last.  I should have finished you off first, little sister, and then moved on to the rest."

Her arm struck the dresser and it crashed to the ground, a handful of contents falling out.

Adubell glanced down at the mess on the floor - a set of jedi robes ... a handful of datapads ... and a card.

Curiously, Adubell bent down to pick up the card, the words "Thank you" in decorative lettering on the front.  She opened it, and a cruel smile came to her lips.

"Well well, little sister - it looks like you have been busy here"

Dear Nevylinn,

Thank you for all of your help.  I'm learning so much, and I couldn't get through this without you.

Sincerely,
Demaris

TBC

[Syren]

"You can drive all night
Looking for the answers in the pouring rain
You wanna find peace of mind
Looking for the answer"

-Cage the Elephant

Hesperidium

Surface:

Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower

Demaris Atrii stares out over the glittering sea.

Her purple and black hair is caught in the perpetual breeze as the sun warms her pale skin. From the top of the tower, it feels like they are only people in the world. It's so quiet that she can barely hear the waves crashing on the beach below. Demaris takes in several, steady breaths and centers herself. The location is naturally conducive to meditation and she feels more normal than she has in months. It's been a struggle grieving when her family refuses to accept they lost their son but are perfectly willing to abandon their daughter. The time and space did give her ample privacy to hone her skills. She had opened doors and leapt from banisters using the Force as her guide. The rush was freeing but it also served to quiet her raging mind, one that had difficulty letting her brother's death go. There were no answers conjured out of thin air, no statement from the RSB on Chandaar. Donovan simply exploded and that was that.

She would replay the photage from the Holo, a morbid curiosity, over and over again in the giant, empty Atrii mansion. Counselor Prescott gripping the side of the podium as she spoke with Donovan standing stoically behind her. His eyes flickered to the right then he moves so quickly, lunging with tactical precision, his arm curling around the Counselor's waist then an orange burst followed by the cam going dark. She wonders what was going through his mind, wonders what they were doing together anyway.

Circe Prescott had been widely discussed on the Holo after she was arrested and put on trial with the murderess Janessa Kain. It was Dahlia that freed her and with so much focus on that, the details of Circe's incarceration and trial were swallowed by the more salacious reveal. Circe was accused of being controlled by the Force. There had been photage used by the prosecution during the trial. Photage of a very young Counselor stepping into a corridor.

Here, in the Bolerathon Tower.

Leaving a penthouse like this one.

Demaris turns around on the balcony and walks back toward the doors. Kier is stretched across a chaise lounge, tanning in blue micro shorts. As she moves through the living room, she can hear Dahlia and her stylist heatedly debating the necessity of an up-do with a strapless dress. She creeps out the door, into the wide and polished corridor, across the hall to the door marked with a large, cursive M.

She leans against the door, placing a hand over the controls. There is a beep, click then the hiss of the door sliding open in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

She gasps, whirling around to find Ples Aguilar standing behind her.

"Ples, hi. I'm just, you know, exploring."

His face is creased with confusion as he peers into the residence.

"Who lives there?"

At the end of the corridor, the lift chimes signaling its arrival, most likely Trichelle and Muriel on their way back from the spa downstairs. Demaris grabs his arm, steps back and pulls him through the door. It hisses closed behind them. They stand there in silence for several minutes as the girls enter the Winton penthouse.

Demaris is staring up into his face, pressing a finger over his lips. She turns and moves through the circular foyer, down a long hall and into the open living room. Everything is white or a pale blue, stark and sterile. It looks almost like a posh and well furnished hospital. Ples reluctantly follows, eyes wandering over a framed picture of Celeste Masterton, a girl that is not Gemma, and a man he does not recognize.

"Uh, Dem? I think we might be trespassing."

"Oh, no, we definitely are," she says, moving deeper into the residence. "This is the Masterton Penthouse. Circe Prescott was here."

"When?

"Almost twelve years ago."

"I don't get it…"

"She was Melanie's friend. You know, Gemma's older sister."

"What about her?"

"The story goes that Circe was supposed to be on the Centerpoint Station when it was destroyed but Melanie sent her away just before the battle. The Corellian reporter gave her their story and she escaped. Then she came here to mourn her friend and was manipulated into doing those things by the Sith."

Ples glances around uneasily.

"Yeah, I'm gathering a lot of bad stuff happened here. Why are you so curious?"

"Because Circe doesn't make sense to me."

"Is she supposed to? She's dead, Dem. Just like Gemma's sister is."

"My brother and the Jedi didn't even speak out on her behalf at the trial. Their testimony could have swayed the jury but no. Not even a statement. Then all of a sudden they are crime-spree buddies who the RSB claim teamed up in a separatist movement that ended in their deaths? That doesn't track for me."

Ples frowns.

"Death isn't always something you can rationalize. It's random and unfair. Who's to say anything was going on between them? The Holo says the RSB is full of shit anyway."

"I just want to know."

"You want closure," he says, standing in front of her. "I get that. But breaking into other people's houses to get answers isn't the way."

Her entire body jerks and she is thrown into his arms.

A flash, white to black, followed by pulsing then total blackness. Through the blackness half a woman's face appears through an unseen light, slowly emerging to reveal dark eyes and gray skin. There is a hiss, followed by another then another as different color sabers are ignited, their collective hum growing toward a terrifying crescendo. The sabers begin to twirl, slowly at first then more quickly as they each strike the gray skin to spark and wink out until there are none left. The face does not flinch, just levels a menacing, knowing stare. As it sinks back, out of sight, the low thrum of laughter can be heard. Then another voice, one that is light and soft, whispering.

"You are not the only one who saw monsters here."




-TBC

[Syren]

Hesperidium

Surface

Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower

Ples Aguilar kneels on the tiled floor holding a shuttering Demaris in his arms. She gasps and pants as his face slowly comes into focus. Exhaling, she glances around and realizes they are still in the Masterton Penthouse.

"What happened…?"

"I dunno," Ples says, panicked. "You...collapsed and started shaking and…"

"And what?"

"Your eyes turned white."

"White?"

"Yeah, like, completely."

She instinctively touches her eyes, making sure they are still there. She turns, catching her reflection in the side of the glass table. She looks fine now. Eyes are normal, dark but wide. She releases his shirt which she had been tightly clutching and sits up. He steadies her, unsure about what to do. He was about to get the others for help but it was over just as suddenly as it had begun.

"That was intense."

"Intense doesn't even begin to cover it. I think you had some kind of stroke. You were calling out, mumbling things. We should probably alert medical."

"No," Demaris says, squeezing his arm. "I'm fine. Really."

"I'm not so sure. What did you see?"

She cringes, looking away.

"Demaris, you saw something, something that scared you. Tell me what you saw."

She swallows and finally brings her eyes to meet his.

"I saw a monster."

"Where?"

"I don't know…"

Ples leans back on his heels, working through what just happened. What had happened before at the Atrii mansion right after Donovan was killed. All the things he'd read and heard about. The uproar in the Republic over people who could see things and move object with their minds. It makes a strange sort of sense. She's a sensitive girl, bright and antisocial, which is why he had been drawn to her. She's not like the other girls. Maybe not like them at all.

"You are...Force Sensitive."

"Don't be crazy," she tries laughing it off. "You mistake a dizzy spill with some kind of clairvoyance."

"It's not just the spell. You moved stuff in your room. We all wound up unconscious in your house. You can see and feel things other people can't. And I saw the note."

"What note?"

"The one you wrote to the Jedi on D'ian. It was on your desk."

"You had no right-"

"Absolutely, I had no right to violate your privacy but I'm worried about you, Demaris. We all are. We know we can't fix you but we do want to help you heal. I know, I know, it's sounds cheesy coming from me but I talked to Gemma's mom and she said being present and available to someone who suffered a loss can be helpful. I'm just, you know, trying to, uh, help."

He's rambling.

She smiles.

"Are you saying you care about me?"

"Well, yeah. I don't care if you can use the Force. That sounds bad. What I mean is, it's cool. You are cool."

"Am I?"

Ples grins, "The coolest girl I know."

"That's sweet."

"Yeah? I can be pretty sweet."

He leans down, her head tilts. Everything slows down. Their lips brush together. His com bleeps loudly, slicing through the palpable romantic silence and scaring them both. He sighs, fishing it out of his pocket.

"What?"

"Dude," Kier says. "Where are you guys? We're going out on the town tonight and Trichelle is totally losing her shit that you two aren't ready."

Ples laughs, "We took a walk. Be there soon."

He clicks off and looks over at her.

"The tribunal is raging."

He stands and helps her up, careful to ensure nothing was touched or moved. She stops him on the way to the door.

"No one else can know. You shouldn't even know."

"Why not? The Sector doesn't have any laws like the Republic."

"It's not just the registration thing. It's everything. It's dangerous."

He knows her well enough to trust her.

"It's our secret."

*

Cut to the Winton Penthouse, Dahlia yells at Trichelle while Muriel fights with her dress and Kier sits on top of the kitchen counter with a bottle of ale in his hand, sunglasses on, swinging his tan legs back and forth.

"Where the hell did you guys go?"

"Around," Demaris says, shaking her head. "There are beautiful beaches as far as the eye can see. You should check it out."

"I plan to," Kier says, hopping off the counter. "But tonight is about being seen."

Muriel groans, brushing tousled blonde hair over her shoulder.

"He's hoping to ride Dahlia's coattails right into the spotlight."

"That's why I got sunglasses on, baby."

"Oh my," Dahlia says, narrowing her eyes at Trichelle. "Is your boy-toy going to be a problem?

"If you'd stop bitching at me for, like, ten seconds I might be able to go back to being his handler."

Trichelle storms toward the kitchen. Dahlia calls after her.

"It's not my fault you are trying to wear clashing patterns! I'm trying to spare you the backlash from those critics on the Holo. You show up in the wrong thing and they will rip you to shreds. Live. For like, twenty solid minutes."

"Fine, no embellished shawl. Maker, Dahlia. You are such a pain."

"But a fashionable one."

After a shower, Demaris is feeling better. The image of the face still haunts her but the almost-kiss with Ples certainly does the trick to deter it. She slips on a simple, black skirt and a deep purple and black corset. The eye make-up is dark and dramatic with just the right amount of punk. Black boots and a slick clutch purse round out the look which is in solid contrast to the brighter and preppy outfits of her peers. Decidedly different is the way to go.

Ples is waiting in the living room dressed in brown shorts and a beige button up with Kier, Muriel and Trichelle on the couch. Dahlia breezes in looking impossibly hip and grabs her purse.

"Shall we?"

Kier hoots his way out of the penthouse. Soon they are speeding across the glistening water as the sun sinks below the horizon, casting a brilliant orange glow. They arrive in West Iobatese Beach just before nine. The hoverlimo idles in front of Bistro Biblioteca. Dahlia places a heel on the ground and steps up and out. Flashes explode. Her name is shouted from all directions.

For the Empire, this is a big deal.

The last Winton royal has come home, taking her place in the public story of glamour and fame. She turns and flashes a smile, moving forward as each of her friend's exits into another world. Kier soaks it up with Trichelle at his side acting vamp. Ples stays close to Demaris while Muriel tugs at the curled ends of her hair.

While they might not all be famous, they all have famous parents. The son of an athletic great, daughter of a Holo-plex star, son of the Direx Board IxO, the monopoly public utility heiress, and the daughter of the wealthiest family in the Sector. They become instantly labeled.

Princess Dahlia and the Sector Entourage.

They fan out and pose appropriately as Dahlia had coached them. Amazingly, they do not look as awkward as they did in her living room. Photage is captured, bylines created, and the uproar is exactly the kind of fabulous she wanted. They break and file into the restaurant. The Bistro had been a staple of Hesperidium for as long as anyone could remember. The subtle decadence of the venue and offerings never goes out of style.

From there, they walk down to Club Hex. They are all well under age to gain admittance to the club but Dahlia walks straight up to the bouncer and tells him to let them in. His face goes slack then he nods, unhooking the velvet rope for them to pass. As they file in, Demaris watches the bouncer stare off into space. She then follows Dahlia through several sets of soft, heavy curtains into the club. It's early so the music is more downbeat electronic and makes it much easier to converse. Dahlia selects one of the VIP tables and motions to the chairs and couches.

Dahlia catches a passing waiter and leans close to whisper in his ear. He returns with a bottle of champagne. Glasses are filled and raised but Demaris feels something off. Ples even looks somewhat skeptical as he spins the stem of his glass between his fingers. Kier, Trichelle and Muriel are reveling in the awesomeness of the moment, sipping and giggling, as Dahlia sways in place to the music.

There is dancing and more drinking and soon the club is packed to the rafters with the DJ spinning the latest house. Multi-colored lights swirl over the writhing crowd. The colors flash and change, becoming lightsabers swirling in her mind. Demaris dodges arms and bodies as she slips off the dance floor and heads for the door. She needs to get out of here.

Down on the beach, stomping through the sand, Demaris stares out over the dark ocean and tries to catch her breath. Everything had become suddenly so overwhelming. She shakes it off, feeling the cooling sea spray as she veers close to the edge of the waves. She stands staring out, feeling an ominous shroud looming over the black waters. And she says without even really knowing where the words come from, what they truly mean.

"...a beast rise out of the sea."




-TBC

[Medivh]

Hesperidium

After a day of seeing and being seen, even Dahlia Winton desired a moment's respite.  She had easily snuck away from the security and the paparazzi that was trying to track her every move and found herself on the private beach, alone, watching the sun set disappear beneath the horizon. In her hand, a stylish clutch purse, containing a few of the essentials every starlett needs. Makeup. Comb. lightsaber.  After all, if she was going out alone, she wouldn't dare be unarmed.

The waves crashed along the shore in a pleasant rhythm, and Dahlia looked upward, the dazzling lights of the Coruscant Asteroid Field Ion Storms flashed like little jagged worms in the gaps between the stars.

"Enjoying the view?"

Dahlia was startled, turning quickly to face the one who intruded on her solitude. The smack to her face sent her reeling backward. It felt more like a metal bat than a hand.  Dahlia raised her arm to cup her already swelling cheek to look at her intruder, eyes going wide as the ashen-skinned woman stepped toward her.

"Adubell - you're alive?"

"Disappointed?"

"How can you be alive?  I saw your body rotting.  I killed you."

"Not entirely, Winton.  As it turns out, a few stabs from a lightsaber are not enough to kill me"

"Maybe a few more would do the trick"

Dahlia's purse had fallen to the sand when Adubell hit her, her right arm reaching out, summoning the weapon within.  It ignited, blood red - Alexia's color and Dahlia ran forward, swinging it against Adubell who stood idly by.  As the blade struck Adubell's throat, it shorted out, Adubell's hand reaching forward and smacking Dahlia again, hard in the nose. She went teetering backward, blood now dripping from her face.

"Stupid, foolish girl.  You still know so little.  After everything you've seen, your still missing it.  You. Can't. Kill. Me.  Lucky for you though, I'm not here to kill you, or you'd already be dead.  You've grown weak, Winton.  A few months in the cozy house and living it up as a model, and you are as pathetic as you were when I first found you"

Dahlia's hand was covering her nose.

"How am I going to explain this to"

"To whom?  your friends?  A reminder, Winton - Sith don't have friends.  We have servants. We have enemies. We may even have allies. But we don't have friends. Friends make us weak.  Your friends have made you weak.  As for your face - you're a sith.  If you can't heal a few bumps and bruises, than you really are as weak as I believe you are.  While you are busy vacationing, things have been progressing.  Either you need to shed your weaknesses, or the sith will shed itself of you"

"I stay around them because it suits my needs"

"Really?  Bringing Demaris Atrii here suits your needs?  The girl is not a charity case, Winton.  She's been meeting with the resident jedi at the Masterton estate. She, like her thankfully dead brother, is gifted in the ways of the Force, and has been training as a jedi"

"That's ridiculous"

Adubell pulled from her cloak the note, signed by Demaris and showed it to Dahlia

Dear Nevylinn,
Thank you for all of your help.  I'm learning so much, and I couldn't get through this without you.
Sincerely,
Demaris

"She was going through a lot - this doesn't mean."

"Of course it does.  And you know it does.  So it's time to stop making excused, time to stop playing counselor and friend to your superficial comrades, and do what needs to be done."

"And what needs to be done?"

"Demaris Atrii needs to die - and you need to be the one to kill her."


TBC