Vance, having served for a few months now under the Dark Jedi Brotherhood had finally gained access to the tools he needed to find Kervach. As he pored through various documents and random searches as well as intel from a few of Tasha’s informants he found a location.
“You Son of a Karking Gundark! After all this time you show your face on Ryloth!”
Quickly, he contacted Tasha’Vel. “I found the man, Tasha and I want him gone, may I use the brotherhood communication database to send out a mission for an elimination? This man has been the sole black market slave leader for over 15years Tasha. He was responsible for my capture, enslavement and nine hells knows how many more people he has under him that he’s tortured and worked to death. This is personal.”
“Say no more, I will have it out today.” She grinned. “I think you may find some willing to assist you on this mission. Good luck.
Pressing another button, Tasha'vel sent out a brotherhood-wide call for assistance.
Not long after, six members from The Brotherhood answered the call. Tasha’vel had given them all coordinates to her estate and they arrived at the gates into the beautiful courtyard.
“Sorry you all can’t stay for awhile and enjoy all the hospitality of my estate, but that isn’t the reason I had sent out a summon. Now, If you would follow me past the courtyard and into the estate, I will have the man who actually wanted you to come here as it is a little more personal business for him and he can certainly fill you all in.”
As she walked, Tasha’vel led them past a beautiful dark purple and black marbled hallway with matching walls to a side door. Taking her dagger, she tapped the door and it opened to reveal a large meeting room with a large grey table and matching chairs. In the middle of the table was a holo data projector. There were a few decorated plants around the sides of the room and right on the left side of the table sat Vance Whitlock. He had his maroon hair tied into a neat ponytail trailing behind him as his large pink Sephi ears stood out. He was dressed in a purple tunic with matching leather pants. He smiled as they began filing in.
Tasha glanced at Uka for a very brief moment before the last person stepped in and quietly closed the door.
Vance then stood up and grinned. “Welcome to the Estate, nice to have you all here.”
“Nice to be here.” Blackhawk said, “And nice place.” he added, absently.
As they strode through the estate, Alex’s eyes shifted behind the gold-rimmed, dark-lensed glasses he wore. At present, he was not clad in his armor - there would presumably be plenty of time to gear up before they approached the target - but instead was wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit in wine red with silver brocade work on the vest over a charcoal grey French front shirt. His wrists were ensconced in his vambraces - keep the resol’nare and all - leading into tight-fitting black leather gloves.
His wandering eyes were not seeking to judge, nor to even assess really. He just always found it fascinating, once a person had risen in status enough to have something which could reasonably be considered an estate, what details of the estate itself reflected its owner. He had thought quite heavily about the design and décor of his own estate, so it was always curious to him how much thought others may have put into theirs. While Alex didn’t know Tasha all that well, he was forming some ideas about her personality from the environs they found themselves in.
When the doors to the meeting hall opened, the Mandalorian warrior strode in confidently, planting himself into one of the chairs nearest the holo projector. He rolled his head casually to the side, the sunglasses shifting slightly as he held out a hand in a gesture of question.
“I will let you conduct your business as you will, but preemptively have three questions I would like addressed in whatever information you are about to deliver: what level of additional resistance or support is the target likely to be able to call on, what is the stance on collateral damage to facilities and bystanders, and,” a grin split the ancient soldier’s face as he delivered the last inquiry, “how many boxes do you want the poor shabuir sent to haran in?”
Vance’s eyes lit up in a brilliant violet hue as Alex spoke. He raised his magenta colored left hand up.
“In due time, I will present all the information I was able to gather shortly. What I can say now is that Tasha’Vel will be paying all of you 50k in credits each for this mission, as for her your work of course should be paid for including eating, accommodations and the like. Now you Alex, I remember well from that social event, many seasons back. I am glad to have you on board. The rest I am not so familiar with, but I do like to know my team before we get to the main bit. What I can say also is Tasha’Vel again proved to me that I can trust in the Brotherhood and its clans when a need is dire.” He then chuckled. “And for some the danger and pay is worth doing. So if I could know a little about the rest of you. Who knows, perhaps even down the line I could assist you all in some way.”
Velira did not announce her presence upon her arrival. As the others passed through the lavish courtyard and the various black and marble halls, she lingered a distance behind, keeping close to the shadows.
Her sharp crimson eyes carefully measured each detail of the estate. Above them, something metallic observed alongside Velira. The spider droid kept pace effortlessly, its eight augmented limbs skittering across the stone, grappling. Narrow red optics pulsed in quiet intervals as the droid mapped the corridor and tracked heat signatures. Velira did not interfere with its work.
Silently, she trailed behind the others as they made their way into the meeting room, gliding across the marble. Black layered silks draped her feminine form, absorbing the light instead of reflecting it, and dark hair cascaded in a curtain of silk to her waist. Her pale skin contrasted starkly, where the holo projector’s soft blue glow sharpened the angles of her face into something almost carved.
She positioned herself at the far end of the table, slowly taking a seat. Velira allowed the spider droid to finalize its sweep, mechanical legs moving in faint metallic clicks overhead before it settled, suspended and watching.
When Alex posed his questions, her crimson gaze shifted to him, steady and unblinking. The elegant line of her brow arched ever so slightly in recognition as she began to study him — a wine red suit, the silver brocade, vambraces beneath tailored sleeves. Discipline layered over an edge of violence, something that Velira could hold appreciation for.
“You seem to calculate outcomes before blood is spilled…” she observed quietly. “That is wise.”
Her gaze slid towards the others, as she began to speak, her words calm and deliberate.
“In my experiences, slavers have historically relied on fear to maintain their sense of hierarchy.”
A faint movement stirred beneath the elegant lines of her cheekbones — subtle, almost imperceptible, a faint ripple to signal her anticipation. And yet, Velira could remain patient when it came to the hunt, as she had grown used to in her hundreds of years.
“I have spent… a very long time studying fear.”
Her sharp gaze returned to Vance, pausing.
“If this man has indeed operated for fifteen years, then perhaps he will have… a few oversights. Hidden routes. Protected accounts. Compromised loyalties. Intel that can be extracted.”
She leaned closer, the calm expression across the pale features of her face remaining unchanged.
“If you require him… alive, then his body shall be preserved,” Velira began with a slight pause.
“His mind, however, may not afford to be so fortunate.”
The spider droid overhead shifted, its red optics narrowing. Velira considered the possibilities that Vance presented to herself, intrigued.
“I do not require the credits.”
Her gaze sharpened, as a slow smile curved across her red-hued lips.
“I simply require… information. His various contacts, databases….”
Velira paused again, her head tilting deliberately, “And perhaps a rare delicacy for a… specialized diet. A matter that can be arranged at a later time.”
“Dietary subjects aside, if we do need introductions, the name is Sirra and for me at least fifty thousand credits will do nicely.”
It was the first time Sirra had spoken up since joining the group, having filed in alongside the rest without comment. With cosmetics disguising her facial tattoos and having donned a utilitarian grey of a maintenance worker’s attire over the high society outfits worn by others seated at the table, it would have been easy to pass herself off as a member of the estate’s hired help.
She leaned back in her chair, trying to get comfortable as she considered who else among the the varied group had answered the offer of employment. It was only the presence of a Jedi which had pushed her into suppressing her presence in the Force over directly reading the thoughts of the others. The meeting was chance to quietly judge each of them in turn without interruption, trying to pick out which area in which their skills might have lain. Including the one with who she had prior dealings.
Sirra’s eyes flicked briefly to the metal arachnid and then its owner. Velira’s presence was an unexpected complication. In their prior mission she had proven to be undeniably effective in breaking, entering, and tracking targets; yet there was an undeniably unsettling quality which kept Sirra on edge. A feeling of pre-combat tension which normally only surfaced once a mission was fully underway. The presence of another Mandalorian, even if he was currently only wearing his vambraces, was another potential problem but one she at least had experience in resolving.
“As for anything further,” Sirra continued, turning her attention back to Tasha'vel. “So long as it doesn’t involve slicing, fixing machinery, or driving something, I can adapt to most plans we devise here.”
The hostess of the estate, who had walked back into the meeting room glanced at Velira.
A small, deliberate chilling smile came across her features as her emerald eyes locked briefly with hers. Already,they conveyed an unsettling warning that she was well aware of the droid since she had arrived. Point made, her features then shifted back from the huntress to a neutral position as she looked at Sirra and gestured towards Vance.
“As previously stated, Vance here is the one with the mission, he will present all the information to everyone. I am just hosting the meeting location.”
Warlord Vincent Brujah had arrived in his full armor, but for now, his helmet was attached to his belt via a clip. His long black hair with a white streak had been pulled up into a bun to accommodate his helmet when the time was right. His eyes flickered back and forth between the others who had answered the call. With a wave of his hand a death stick came flying out of a pouch on his belt and landed perfectly in his mouth. Just as quickly as the death stick had reached his mouth a lighter floated upwards and sparked it before returning to the pouch on his belt. He took a long, deep inhale and felt waves of euphoria slowly wash over him like the first incoming waves of a high tide.
He paid little attention to the other members of the hunt. His eyes were focused on the holo projector. He thought that perhaps he could feel indifference from the others to his presence here, and that brought a smirk to his face. He let Alex, Velira, and Sirra finish their statements before finally starting one of his own.
“Perhaps some of you know of me. It would seem that my reputation has begun to precede me. I could tell as much when a recent visit to a doctor started with the doctor herself showing obvious signs of stress and anxiety at my arrival… before I had said a single word.”
The thought made him smile.
“I don’t have questions. I don’t need answers. It has been made clear that we are to eliminate a slaver, so instead, I only have a statement…”
He looked Vance dead in the eyes, and the Warlord’s eyes began to softly glow red.
“You could have simply contacted me and saved yourself a lot of credits. There is no one in this Galaxy that hates slavers more than I do. I will see him suffer. I will hear his cries, and ultimately I will end his miserable existence. I do not require backup, nor do I really need the credits, though I will take them.”
He took another long pull from the death stick before blowing the smoke upwards.
“For me, this is a simple matter of raining death on someone that deserves it even more than I do, and pal, that is my specialty.”
Vance chuckled. “Confident, knows what he’s about and isn’t afraid to flaunt his expertise, I like it. Now while I don’t doubt your abilities, it doesn’t hurt being well prepared for anything, which is why I have others. This mission won’t be as easy as a walk in the park.”
He then placed a data stick into the projector. A map of Ryloth appeared before zooming into the southern hemisphere.
On the screen, a small outpost appeared with four watch towers around the corners, a secured gate and a landing pad large enough for a YT1000 ship. It was also surrounded by a security fence.
“Our target was located in the Jixuan desert, seems he has set up shop for a few years here working the slave and illegal substance trades.”
“As you can see, with the money made, he has a decent security and he isn’t alone.”
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“That gives him more control,” Sirra mused, still inwardly cursing directing her comments to the wrong person. How people did this without bothering to see them through the Force is something she would never fully understand. “Compared with a more urban environment, there are fewer methods we can use to disguise our approach. And less reason for him to limit his use of firepower on any intruders.”
She looked over the details on the hologram, eyes flicking back and forth over it as she considered one obvious method of breaching the fence after another. There were some possibilities. Exploiting a contact to hide on a resupply run, disguise themselves as slaves to breach it internally, or even to cut their way inside and silence the towers in a coordinated attack. None were without risks, all of which had their shortcomings.
“To start with the outpost itself,” Sirra spoke up, turning from the hologram to Vance. “What information is there on the security - their equipment and personnel - and any nearby wildlife?”
“As to wildlife, the Jixuan desert itself is dangerous, teeming with Gutkurrs and on rare occassions Lyleks. So as we get to the place, there is the possibility of running into these two creatures.”
He then clicked the projector button and a projection of both creatures appeared.
Velira listened as Sirra spoke. Her crimson eyes shifted towards the familiar woman in grey, recognition settling in over the pale features of her face.
“Sirra,” she said softly, whispering her name. Their prior mission lingered in Velira’s recent memories— silent entry, patient observation, efficient tracking. Sirra had possessed an investigator’s patience. A mind that did not rush to the obvious.
“You have always preferred to understand a structure before we collapse it,” Velira added, voice even. “It is… efficient.”
When Sirra’s gaze flicked toward the spider droid, the droid shifted slightly above, as though aware it had been assessed. The machine stilled again in obedience, red optics gleaming as it recorded the meeting details.
As Vincent spoke, slowly Velira’s attention shifted. She did not react to the armor. Nor the death stick, or the red glow of his eyes much like her own. But she did make note of them. At his mention of the doctor, there was an imperceptible shift of interest across her features, a gentle curve to the corners of her lips as her pupils narrowed slightly.
“You evoke sympathetic nervous responses before engagement,” she observed, her tone smooth and clinical.
“How… fascinating. I too, am a practitioner of medicine,” Velira continued, this time letting her crimson gaze sweep across the group as she stated her identity as a medic, before looking back towards Vincent.
“Should you ever require a replacement who does not experience… anticipatory anxiety at your presence, I would be willing to offer my services. Though my methods differ from most conventional practitioners, I can assure you that they are effective.”
Her tone was smooth, yet as Velira met Vincent’s gaze, something ancient surfaced. A flicker beneath the porcelain smooth skin of her cheekbones, the serpentine ripple of Anzat proboscis. Barely perceptible, and then it was gone.
When the hologram shifted to Ryloth and the desert outpost materialized, she turned her attention to the projection, though a faint awareness of Vincent’s presence lingered at the edges of her perception. Her hunger receded— disciplined and controlled, as her focus shifted to the mission details.
The Jixuan desert. Velira began to commit the details of the landscape and its security measures to memory, including the various creatures of the planet as they were mentioned.
“Perhaps the wildlife may be… redirected if necessary. Their presence could provide cover for movement or distraction.”
Ordinarily Velira would not have been fond of suggesting such tactics, but when it came to a desert environment where certain resources proved scarce, one had to consider all possible methods even if unorthodox.
“Disguise could still remain viable,” she continued. “Supply runs. Personnel transfers. Captive transport. But that particular viability depends on… structure.”
She turned her attention back to Vance, her crimson gaze eyes steady.
“You mentioned he has operated here for several years,” Velira continued with a brief pause.
“Does he answer to a superior authority — or is this operation entirely his? How many others, if any that are known, have attempted to dismantle his operation?”
She folded her leather-gloved hands loosely, before falling still again.
“Longevity in that trade is rarely coincidence. Knowing whether we face a cautious tyrant or an overconfident one could help determine whether we enter disguised, and possibly exploit their contacts… or purely unseen.”
-# <@326457564994994176> <@466040899970007041> <@1385116824814878940>
“Given enough information, I have a fair bit of experience using disguise to get to a target.” the Clawdite stated. “Alternatively, the ship I arrived on is equipped with ion cannons and buzz droid missiles if we decide to use air power to deal with his ship and other defenses.”
Uka had to wonder if this was, in fact, the stupidest thing she’d ever done. It was probably pretty high on the list. There was that time she snuck into the abandoned temple on Solyiat while Edgar was asleep. Or agreeing to go on that ill-fated mission to Arx.
Still, she was reasonably certain that cloaking herself and sneaking on a mission that a Jedi Padawan had no business being part of, least of all alone, probably rated fairly high on a list of stupid things.
That business with the STAR AI had lingered in her mind, though; she hadn’t told anyone what had happened after she’d been separated from the others. How she’d drawn on the Dark Side to kill a man in self-defense.
She’d been monitoring Master Edgar’s comms – what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, after all – when a familiar name came up, requesting aid. Yes, it was an assassination mission and the Temple probably wouldn’t approve, but… the man was a slaver, and Master Edgar always said slavers were the lowest of the low, so that made it alright. Right?
And Tahsa’vel was an ally, even if she was a Sith.
Firm in her logic, she’d taken a shuttle that had been docked for repairs and slipped out of the Kiast system before anyone knew she was gone.
She had been so confident in her ability to hide herself in the Force that she almost screamed when Tasha looked directly at her and spoke into her mind. She’d seen through Uka’s concealment in a heartbeat, and it was only her good graces that were keeping her hidden from the other Sith in the room.
What was she supposed to do now? Reveal herself? She had a feeling that was a bad idea. Remain hidden for the entire mission? What if someone managed to pierce Tasha’s guard after all?
The fear in her chest was palpitating. And just a bit thrilling. She had no idea where any of this was going to lead, but for now she waited and absorbed every piece of information spoken in the room.
“As much as I would enjoy seeing that man disentigrated by buzz droid missiles, an infiltration would be probably a better route as I know it is a building for holding and transporting slaves and goods. I don’t want to risk hitting innocent civilians. Or if say our team wasn’t in full communication causing an unnecessary accidental death.
However, having a ship on standby though to chase off say the local wildlife as well as a possible way to evacuate people, isn’t a bad plan.”
He then faced Velira. “Having a couple infiltrating the inside wouldn’t be bad as well as map the place a bit. I know that typically our target has four bodyguards usually present with him.
Unfortunately, I could not get records yet of who accompanies him.
As for getting inside, disguise and stealth would be best bet for getting all the intel before the elimination.
Once we get that, then we can find ways to slip in and cause some distractions, which I am great at that,while others work on the guards and get him isolated for the elimination.”
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Vincent gave Velira a half fascinated and half impressed look as she spoke to him, but then the conversation went to how to enter the facility. The Warlord looked the group over with eyebrows raised. He unclipped the helmet of his armor from his belt and stood, turning to look at each person as he began to speak.
“Don’t any of you spend your credits on anything worthwhile? I mean… don’t get me wrong. Mansions, ships, bombs, these are all nice things… but.. for a mission of this nature…”
He clipped the front of his helmet to the latch under his chin and then pulled it back over his head. A hiss was let out as the armor sealed him away from the environment. He pressed a combination of buttons on the forearm of his armor and suddenly the Warlord dematerialized in front of all of them. From thin air, suddenly behind the Clawdite, his deep, now modulated voice reappeared, though his body remained invisible.
“A bit of tact is in order.”
There was a pause, and then the voice returned, this time behind Vance.
“Don’t you think?”
“Ships can be very worth it. Weapons almost never aren’t. My armor is the most expensive thing I have. Credits do not buy success, they are merely tools towards it. A mission like this, where infiltration seems to be the best strategy, will not be best solved by anything you can buy that I’m aware of, unless shape shifting has somehow become a purchasable ability rather than a skill unique to Clawdites.” Blackhawk countered.
Vincent suddenly felt muscled coils wrap around his body swiftly, pinning his arms tightly to his sides, as two green scaled arms gripped his arms tightly as a third arm held his head up while the fourth immediately had a poisoned dagger to his throat as an emerald skinned thisspiasian with oceanic blue eyes immediately materialized,the moment he moved behind Vance.
“Indeed, tact..would have been a smarter move Sith, you are well to remember whose house you are in and how protective she is of her employees. Even with guests.” She hissed by his ear.
“Beautiful armor demonstration though, I am impresssed. Certainly is good for fieldwork, but as one should know we can be more than just our tools.” She grinned.
Velira did not startle when Vincent vanished, yet gave the slight tilt of her head to signal interest, a curtain of her dark hair falling over one shoulder to half obscure her face. Her piercing red eyes began to track the air in a predatory nature, as information was relayed to her by the spider droid, its gleaming optics tracking the air displacement and heat signatures.
She watched closely, considering to herself.
“Hm… I may have to consider adding one of those suits to my collection…”
As an emerald-scaled Thisspisian materialized with a dagger now poised at his throat, Velira observed the exchange without interruption. Her crimson gaze flicked briefly to Tasha’Vel and then back to Vance.
When Vance clarified the nature of the outpost — slaves housed within, the risk to innocents, and the need to avoid unnecessary casualties, Velira’s focus then returned to the holographic layout.
“You are correct,” she said calmly. “Annihilation from a distance would compromise assets we intend to… preserve.”
Her gloved fingers hovered near the projection of the holding structures.
“If civilians are present, then interior control is mandatory. Disguise and stealth first, which happen to be two of my specialties…”
She considered the detail of the bodyguards, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of the hunt.
“A group of them suggests layered coverage,” she continued slowly. “A few guards for immediate proximity, and some offset for overlapping sightlines.”
Only then did Velira shift, rising for a closer analysis.
“Guard discipline will determine how cleanly we isolate him…. A perimeter distraction would draw at least one pair outward. Power fluctuation, wildlife disturbance, or my personal favorite…staged internal malfunction.”
The cold focus of her tone shifted as her gaze slid towards the restrained Warlord, a whisper of a smile now held across her lips.
“I have made quite a few investments with my credits through the ages, though I can be quite… selective.”
From within the folds of her dark silks, she produced an obsidian device— a black shock collar, one of the reinforced models, sleek and unobtrusive. It hummed faintly when activated, a red current of electricity radiating along the rim.
“For asset compliance.”
The collar vanished back into shadows of her robes as fluidly as it had appeared. From her opposite side, a coiled length of dark filament snaked into view — a fibercord whip, its handle balanced for precision rather than spectacle.
“For distance correction.”
The whip retracted back into her sleeves as quickly as it had appeared. Finally, she reached within the inner lining of her garment and withdrew a set of durasteel restraints— handcuffs that were minimalistic in nature, designed for rapid application.
“For immobilization and controlled extraction.”
-# <@1385116824814878940>
“The optical camouflage is a nice trick,” Alex drawled, his head clearly following Vincent’s movement as he went the entire way. “But it is only a trick, and anyone familiar with it can track it easily enough as soon as you start moving. ”
“Now if we are all quite done playing stupid games and underestimating each other,” he pulled the dark sunglasses from his face and started running through the information they had been given in the back of his mind, “perhaps we can form a coherent plan across all our particular specialties and skills. Unless you would like to drop trow here and now and see who has something to prove?” Alex grabbed at his belt and jiggled the buckle as he stared directly at Vincent’s position, holding the pause for just a moment longer than comfortable before looking away.
“I must admit, I am not particularly skilled at stealth or subterfuge. Never really a thing I had a great deal of necessity to practice in my various lines of work. Were we looking to engage in polite, civil discourse with the slaver filth I could hold my own, but…pretending to be a lackey? A client? A supplier? Not something, I am afraid, that I am going to be of much use at. Realistically, I believe we need to tackle this with three teams: an infiltrated reconnaissance team, an assault and destruction team, and a retrieval and extraction team. The recon team is not exclusive, and members of that can also take part with one of the other two - realistically probably better to assist with retrieval and evacuation of any current captures, since with a successful infiltration they will already be on the inside, but they could be handy for chaos and destruction as well.” .
With a smooth action, his twin blaster pistols Honor and Glory appeared in his hands, though they had not seemed to be worn anywhere evident on his person. His fingers were clear from the triggers and he simply had them pulled as punctuation.
“Of the three, I know definitively which one I am best suited for. Who else is taking what?”
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Vincent chuckled a bit as the Thisspiasian restrained him, but inside he was seething. The others were talking, but he paid them no attention. His focus was on the snake coiled around him.
“Easy, doll. Just trying to make a point that bombing the slaves probably isn’t our best course of action and that stealth might be a better course of action. If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I wouldn’t make a show of it… I’d just do it.”
He wiggled to try to free himself, but the grip was tight. He didn’t particularly want a fight here, he’d rather save it for the slaver, but he was on the edge of taking matters to the next level.
“Of course, I wouldn’t expect paid muscle with a tiny brain to understand. Now release me before I turn you into a pair of boots.”
Vance stood up, raising his hands. “Well now, I think I can see quite clearly now just how capable this team is of spontaneous action and quick reflexes.” He gave a chuckle turning to Alex. “Love the beautiful weapons by the way.”
Then he turned to Vincent. “Release him Syk, that man is clearly restraining himself from causing harm to you dear. Though his insults, clearly show a lack of understanding jist how much he undestimates you, he is still our guest and he wasn’t threatning me. Just wanted to show off his very lovely tool for this job. Plus I definately could use him for this job.” He smiled as Syk released her grip and slithered away again into the Shadows.
“Very well Vance, but if he so much as decides to cause trouble,he will find just how far these "pair of boots” can be driven up his arse. Perhaps later we can test his strength if he survives this mission.“
After speaking,she now had completely vanished from sight again, a bit frightening for a large four armed snake-like nightmare.
Vance then turned back to the table. "Now that excitement is over, shall we proceed with our plans? I for ine would love to start. I figure that this charming lady, pointing at Velira, this gentleman, pointing at Blackhawk, and this Sith can be our infiltration team. Their job is to get in, map the place, watch the targets and tag their movements, and provide us intel on the easy ways to get in.
Second team will be you Alex, myself, and.” He looked at the sort of nervous girl who had been observing everything. He gave her a charming smile and wink to her.
“This lovely lady will be waiting until, the infiltration team signals the entrypoint at which we will cause a large distraction to lure most away so they can eliminate the body guards and capture our isolated target.
I want him Alive until I get to him, can look into this son of a karking bastard’s face and let him see me for the last time before dying.
I want him to know that he karked up the day he left me to die in the hands of another slaver. So sounds like a plan everyone?”
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“One objection,” Sirra spoke up, her eyes still fixed on the hologram before her. her tone more matter-a-fact than boastful. “What if I can get the rest of us inside without being noticed.”
She had been doing her level best to pick out details on the fortification they would be breaching, along with running possible scenarios through her head. Firefights, where choke points were likely to be, response times from surprised or expecting guards used to dealing with unruly slaves. Most importantly how any defense or operation would be set up, to help deal with likely threats.
“Look at it. It’s as much a prison as a fortress. The outpost needs to deal with the risk of a breakout from slaves from within more than it does a paramilitary attack. Starving, unarmed, and disorganised mobs of people. Not a heavily armed assault team. For our sort of threat, they are likely expecting us to attack from beyond the main gate.” She looked away looking over the others briefly, before indicating first the fence and then the towers. “We would need to get within fifty meters without being seen. And we would want someone to check for mines, sensors, or countermeasures beyond the fence itself. But if one of those towers could be silenced, I am certain I could do it.”
Sirra trailed off, realising there would likely be questions about the viability of her claim. With an inward sigh and realising it was too late to back out now, she stopped concealing her presence reached out with the Force. There was a subtle shift about Sirra as reality seemed to cave inward briefly, bending as if pulled tight by an unseen hand. When it reasserted itself, Sirra and her chair was no longer there. In that same heartbeat the opposite effect took place on the other side of the room, as she reappeared still seated, now facing them.
“And in case any of you were wondering how, I hope that serves as an answer.”
“I can get inside easily enough. That’s what shape shifting is for. I can also teleport. And withy shape shifting, I could theoretically get to and stun the target without getting caught, then assume his identity temporarily.
Velira had remained still through the demonstrations, leaning her head against her hand. Her piercing crimson gaze moved between them all with analytical interest—measuring cadences and impulses.
When Sirra bent space itself and reappeared across the chamber, Velira’s expression did not shift. When teleportation and shapeshifting were mentioned, she inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the useful tools laid upon the table.
Only then did she rise slowly and patiently, a sense of grace following her movement.
“You are all correct,” she began, her voice low and velvety smooth with each spoken word. “This place is designed to resist force from the outside… and chaos from within.”
She stepped closer to the hologram, the blue light painting faint lines across her elegant features.
“A prison must control bodies,” she continued. “But it maintains its survival by controlling perception and by those who keep order within.”
Her gloved fingers hovered just beneath one of the guard towers in a light gesture.
“I require only proximity for my contributions. To reach into their minds and make… corrections. To implant hesitations, extract access codes, or to create overwhelming convictions that they were ordered to leave the premises… And for them to believe it was entirely on their own accord…”
A slight tilt of her head. The subtle flicker of shadows seemed to wrap around her form, coiling like a dark fog, as she peered at the group.
“Every mind possesses its own fractures and fears. I merely reach for them, and gently guide them to the surface.”
A faint pause. She did not smile broadly. Only the barest suggestion curved one corner of her lips.
“Each of you brings something… decisive.”
She stepped back from the table, hands folding loosely before her.
“I simply aim to ensure that when you act, no one truly understands what is happening, until it is far too late…”
Her crimson gaze swept across them once more, before her smooth voice followed.
“Shall we begin?”
-# <@1385116824814878940> <@466040899970007041> <@280930981983289345> <@326457564994994176> <@102435651189743616> <@230809550297497600>
Uka was beginning to think this whole thing was one giant mistake, that if she were smart she’d slip away while all these, frankly terrifying, Sith Lords were plotting out an assassination attempt and just fly back to Kiast before anyone knew she was gone.
“Now that you have seen what the team is about to do, Tasha’s voice spoke into her mind; it was all she could do not to jump, and she did let out a startled ‘eep’ before slapping her hand over her mouth. Tasha was looking across the room directly at her, though none of the others seemed to notice yet.
How dangerous this mission is,, she continued, Are you willing to risk your life, possibly die in the process, but trust this team to assist you even though you hardly know anyone?
Or do I take you back to Edgar and tell him that you decided to be little Miss Independent with nothing to brag about and get some petty little slap lecture on Jedi code, blah, blah.
I give you one minute to decide.”
Uka bristled, slightly, at the ‘little miss independent’ comment, and how downright condescending it sounded.
But more then that, she bristled at the implicit accusation that she couldn’t handle this. That having seen the level of danger involved, she would run back home like a frightened little girl. The fact she had been momentarily considering exactly that was brushed aside. She was not some child to be pulled home by the ear and lectured!
She followed the telepathic link back to Tasha’s consciousness.
I’m staying. What do you need me to do?
“Nothing at all, now it’s showtime.”
She smiled as her body gracefully moved across the floor right behind Uka. Her gorgeous emerald eyes gleaming as a smile formed across her lips.
She raised her hand to gather attention as she allowed her dark aura to seethe a bit. Power…such a delicious haunting display of dark side energy now permeated throughout the meeting room as her eyes blazed from emerald to fiery red a moment.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, before we run off to the operation. There is one more member I would like to add into this mix.
Allow me to introduce a younger but very eager member of this team.”
With a small wave the cloak around Uka dissipated revealing her to all as Tasha’s grin got wider.
Before any protests, she spoke in a more authoritative and calm tone.
“I know she’s young, why did she come here and are we gonna have to babysit her? Allow me to answer that.
No, she chose to do this herself, after all we had our first few missions and some probably about her age.
Secondly, absolutely no one will be babysitting her, she’s here to prove her worth and her mission will be to evacuate the slaves, see they get properly and safely evacuated to the ship while your teams..” She let out an amused chuckle still grinning.
“Do what they do best. Inifltrate, track and assassinate the target without worry about slaves getting in your way. Sound savvy?”
She then just leaned back and waited.
Vincent grumbled to himself a bit as Syk released him and once again disappeared. A compression dent in his armor popped itself out almost automatically, returning it to pristine condition. He was just about to return to his seat when the final member of the team was revealed.
”A karking Jedi…” he thought to himself. ”Perfect…”
Though he had an ultimate plan for all Jedi, today, he would make an exception, for the sake of the opportunity to kill the one thing he hated even more: slavers. He stared at that Padawan for only a second, and then forced the thoughts out of his head.
”Not today, little Jedi, but someday.”
He sat back down on his seat, satisfied with the proposal for now, but fully aware that things change quickly in the heat of battle. They’d all have to be prepared for that. He turned his attention away from the Jedi and to Tasha’Vel.
“You’ll hear no arguments from me. Just keep ol’ Boots back there away from me and things should work out just fine.”
As the revelation unfolded, Alex came to his feet. Honor and Glory vanished to wherever he was keeping them just as suddenly as they had appeared earlier as he took a few quick, long strides across the room to stand directly in front of Uka. He leaned down slightly, bringing himself eye-to-eye with the young Sephi.
“We have done this dance before, jetii,” his voice dropped to a low rumble as he spoke, “and this time you are without your Master. I do not doubt your abilities, but know one thing for certain: the task you are undertaking is sure to be no less risky than any of ours. You are going to be responsible for not only your life but that of every one of those captured sods you can manage to find.” A weathered but gentle hand reached out and came to rest on Uka’s shoulder, punctuating his words.
“The very second you think their lives are in danger, you make the call.” He tapped his ear as if to indicate a comlink, though he did not currently wear one. “Just like last time, my job is to be a shield. For you, for the rest of the team, for the defenseless slaves we are going to be setting free. I will shed every drop of blood I carry around in this tired old body to earn them their next breath of free air, should need be.” The hand came up from her shoulder and one index finger poked at her forehead before the Mandalorian turned, slipping his sunglasses back on. “Remember that, if nothing else.”
Sirra suppressed a snort of laughter at the antics they played out. She had been considering Velira’s words when their last member had been drawn out into the open. Already far more at ease now the centre of attention was drawn elsewhere, the chaos as the Jedi had appeared brought offered a few more reactions to help gauge those she was working with.
Sirra’s attention wasn’t drawn to the armoured giant among them, Vincent, noting quickly how his body tensed. Coiled and ready for combat, the first spike of adrenaline coursing through his system, before forcing it down. Yet while he was the one she mentally marked as a possible complication, it was the other that gave her pause. Casually dressed, Alex was giving what seemed to both be a reassuring and threatening speech to Uka. His statements even if they conjured images of fire and blood in Sirra’s mind, but there was an ancient quality to his essence she had rarely sensed; a more ancient quality limited usually to only a few who had been in the Praxeum.
Finally Sirra’s attention turned to the Padawan, Uka. It was difficult to know what to make of her. Although clearly older than Sirra and trained, there seemed to be a brittle quality to that discipline. A unrefined aspect born more of inexperience than a lack of talent. She was likely one who had not experienced rampant bloodshed and chaos of a lawless undercity or the chaos of a battlefield just yet. Even so, having the nerve to walk into a room full of Sith and go on a mission to breach a fortress still placed her above many of those Sirra had hunted in past wars.
“Greetings. You’re from Clan Odan-Urr?” Sirra pulsed a private telepathic message to Uka, more out of confirmation than uncertainty.
In that same moment Sirra turned to Tasha, as if no message had been sent between herself and the Jedi.
“Infiltrate, seek, locate, destroy,” Sirra said to Tasha, giving a brief look over at Velira. “Consider it done.”
<@1169231304856981525> <@1385116824814878940>
Uka froze as Tasha’s veil dropped from over her, and every eye in the room immediately turned to lock in on her.
Like a floodgate had been opened, a cascade of conflicting emotions engulfed, flowing in the Force like frigid currents; surprise, defensiveness, curiosity, incandescent rage, and perhaps more strongly than all of them combined, terror.
Her eyes darted around the room looking for the source of that particular emotion before she realized the obvious: it was coming from inside her.
She looked to Tasha for some kind of guidance, but all she saw was a bemused smirk. No help from that corner.
Her eyes were drawn, almost against her will, to the other Sith in the room. The one called Vincent.
Alex and Sirra’s words calmed her racing heart just a little bit, but from him… his rage was like a volcano in the Force, dormant but barely restrained. He wanted to kill her, and she had no idea why, and the latter sent more of a stab of disorienting unease into her heart than the former.
She still stood tall, more out of long habit then true confidence, tamping down on her fear, and spoke with a steadiness she did not feel.
“Thank you, Tasha’vel, for that… dramatic introduction. I hope none of you will think it rude of me to have listened in before introducing myself; my master always told me it was better to know a room and those within before letting them know you.”
She stepped closer towards the group. “For those of you who know me, thank you for your trust. For those who don’t, my name is Lady Uka Komi, Padawan of the Jedi Temple of Odan-Urr, and daughter of House Keldra of the Vatali Empire. It is my hope that despite our… differences, we can all agree on the goal at hand; bringing a swift end to an irredeemable criminal.”
She locked eyes with Vincent and swallowed her nerves, before honing in on another one of Edgar’s teachings: the Sith respect strength of will above all else. That knowledge in mind, she committed to her next words with her full heart.
“And if, regrettably, some here cannot bear to work with a Jedi, then…”
Her fingers brushed against the hilt of her saberstaff in a way that was just obvious enough to be noticed without being a direct challenge.
“You are welcome to act on those feelings anytime you like.”
<@466040899970007041> <@1385116824814878940> <@607619766752116771>
Velira watched the exchange unfold without interruption, as the newcomer was introduced within their midst. As the Jedi stepped forward, her crimson eyes tracked each movement carefully.
Hidden beneath the pale skin of her face, in the hollows of her cheekbones, she felt an instinctive yet dull pang of hunger— a craving.
Not for the merely the biological pulse that all beings carried — but for the luminous resonance that Jedi cultivated through their own personal disciplines and connections to the Force. To most, it would feel comforting. And yet, to Velira— It was the first semblance of what was sure to be a delectable meal.
Her crimson gaze lingered on the Padawan just a fraction longer than was polite. The life essence of certain Jedi had always been… distinct in flavor, to Velira. Where ordinary minds tasted dull, clouded by vice or apathy, the Jedi typically carried a sense of balance. Their essence rang vibrant to the predatory senses of most of Velira’s kind— as though cool spring water, light and refreshing in flavor.
Velira willed her attention to shift elsewhere. She did not feed upon her fellow Odanites, thanks to the oath that she’d sworn. But that didn’t mean her natural hunting instincts could be fully tamed.
The Anzat’s hands folded calmly before her as Uka introduced herself. Velira inclined her head.
“Lady Uka Komi.”
Her voice was smooth with each word — neither hostile nor overly warm.
“What an unexpected delight to be joined by a Jedi…”
A small pause followed her words.
“I serve Odan-Urr in a somewhat… specialized capacity…”
Her crimson eyes softened by a measured amount — just enough to read as reassuring.
“I am one of our field medics.”
That much was true. The spider droid dropped down from the ceiling, crawling towards Velira’s shadowy form.
“In situations like the one we are about to enter, one of the ways I can be of service is straightforward.”
Her gloved hand rested lightly against the table.
“I stabilize the wounded. Ease suffering where possible. And if survival is no longer a viable option…”
A faint stillness crossed the expression of the pale features of her face.
“…I ensure the transition is gentle.”
Velira’s words were calm and clinical. What she did not say was how that certain transition sometimes involved a careful drawing away of the final threads of life — feeding just enough to quiet the pain, and soften the passing of another. A mercy, of a sort, and a more humane way of obtaining life essence as Velira viewed it.
Her gaze drifted away from the Jedi at last, returning to the mission projection. But deep beneath her composed exterior, the ancient Anzat could faintly recall how the minds of Jedi tasted. Bright. Alive. And tempting. For all the Jedi she had feasted on through the years, it had never been any from her own clan. Velira intended to keep it that way.
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Vance looked towards the determined female Jedi and smiled widely, giving her a sly wink. He then put up his hands for a moment.
“Whoa there little lady, brave words and action. I like your spunk and attitude. You will do just fine on the team.”
A Cheshire grin spread across Tasha’s face as she began to laugh a moment while thinking.
I will have to tell Edgar and Miho that his padawan and Odan Urr member displayed having the guts to stand up for herself, but at the same time, put herself in a literal den of Sith, bounty hunters and Mercenaries where she could be cut to ribbons by any one of us here. Foolish girl, but out of respect for Miho and the fact I like Edgar. I will let this ‘show’ of strength pass. She has much to learn, but I applaud the attempt. Perhaps I will watch this one.
She then stopped laughing, raised her hands and brought them together in one loud clap.
“Bravo Uka, I admire your attempt at not backing down and sound advice for listening and knowing a room. Perhaps there is potential for you to become a fine warrior even, but remember little one.” Her eyes now staring directly as if into her soul. “Observe your opponent, study them carefully and..”
She took a very ornate dagger out and began to play with it, twirling it in her hands before throwing it straight towards the jedi, allowing it to stop just short of her face, hovering. “then strike their weakest spot and send them to the nine hells.” The blade then returned to her side.
“Never hesitate to kill someone if your life is on the line.” Her face then returned to a warmer, kinder state. “Now that we have settled the matter of teams, I think it’s time we get ready and head to the desert. I am going to stay here and provide a communication point if needed.”
“Right…” Despite his appearance and gaudy outfit, there was a subtle shift and the general vibe of the Mandalorian changed. He was clearly back into ‘business’ mode and rattling off his thoughts from a long career of strategic engagement.
“Next issue is transport. The fewer ships we approach with, the less likely we are to be detected, or at the very least less noted if we are detected. However, there is the consideration of exfiltration as well. Especially if we may be trying to leave with not only ourselves but an unknown potential number of slaves being rescued. An operation of this size, I would guess we are looking at no less than a dozen on-hand at any given time being prepared for sale - possibly several dozen if he is any good at what he does. Whatever ship or ships we take in, we need to take that factor into consideration. It does not have to be comfortable, but there does need to at the very least be room for an uncomfortable transport of a fair number of people. I am afraid that puts my Herald right out - she is built for luxury and comfort, not mass transport. I will need to stop in there briefly before we go to retrieve the rest of my gear, since I did not feel it was quite appropriate to go tromping through somebody else’s house fully armored like some sort of ill-tempered bantha.” A slight grin split his features, showing that even when being more serious, the same man was still underneath. “That being said, does anyone have a ship that seems well suited to the parameters of the mission? Possibly two ships if we need to make consideration for room?”
With a distinctly unimpressed look, Sirra watched the Padawan then turned her attention to Velira.
“Don’t terrify her any more than you have to,” Sirra sent via telepathy, keeping her message to a private whisper. Now she was no longer having to silence herself in the Force, she was taking full advantage of her abilities again. “Her ego has been bruised enough in the last two minutes.”
The soul drinker was unlikely to move against them, or even cause trouble, at least at the moment. Even still, if Sirra found her presence deeply unsettling she didn’t want to imagine how the Jedi felt. Then again, anything which would keep any of the more bloodthirsty figures among them in line would be welcome, however that method of discipline was accomplished.
“Would a Hammerhead corvette be suitable?” Sirra asked, turning her attention to Alex, taking into account his words. While she had little experience when it came to ships, “mass transport” seemed to sum up the brutish and slab-sided seemed to fit that designation rather accurately. “It’s large and far from subtle, but it could land a few kilometers out. Perhaps fake an illegal cargo transfer out in the desert, or engine troubles to force a sudden landing.”
<@102435651189743616> <@607619766752116771>
For his part, Vincent laughed heartily. He never reached for a saber hilt or made any intimidating moves whatsoever. Instead, he seemed genuinely amused by the idea that the Padawan in front of him was any real threat to him at all. With a smirk growing on his face, he spoke.
“A day will come when our paths cross and those… feelings that you speak of are acted upon. Today, I am here only for the joy of ending the life and work of a slaver. Consider it a one time deal, little Jedi.”
Vincent returned his attention to the rest of the party as they continued discussing the transport to the mission. As far as he was concerned, the time for talk was over. The matters at hand were obvious. The consequences and dangers would likely be great. He couldn’t be any more ready. Battle was his comfort zone. Talking things over with people he wouldn’t usually be caught dead in a room with, not so much.
Blackhawk chuckled slightly at the Padawan. The truth of the matter was that he saw a spark his younger self.
“I was like you once. Confident, a touch arrogant, completely uncaring of what others thought. I learned over the years, as most do. Perhaps, in time, you’ll grow powerful. Assuming you don’t get yourself killed first ” Blackhawk stated.
“As for transport and exfil, I think a Hammerhead will do nicely. If we need a backup, I can provide an Aggressor class to get us out of all else fails, though we will need a second ship to evac any slaves that are present on site unless we make multiple trips.”
“Excellent suggestion, as for a second ship do we have any that could also traverse on the ground?Might be better to go by ground as we wouldn’t be as noticable in the air.” Vance asked as he leaned against the left side of the table.
He gently folded his arms as he waited. First time he had assembled a crew to assist in his missions. Definitely a rag tag bunch, but all had various skills that would come in handy later when they reached the stronghold. A soft smile ran across his features. Karvach wouldn’t know what hit him till it was too late. Tick Tock Karvach, we will be coming soon. <@607619766752116771>
Sirra’s voice brushed against Velira’s mind, though she did not startle at the sudden intrusion.
Don’t terrify her any more than you have to.
After the words reached her, she unfurled her thoughts enough to respond, quiet and smooth.
Fear sharpens young Jedi, her mind echoed back icily from the shadows, as though the words were emerging from a crypt. But very well. I shall be… gentler.
Had it been anyone else, Velira would have smothered the mental tether with a dark web of well placed lies. However, given her history of working with Sirra, she opted to allow the communication for the time being.
Velira herself had not moved during the exchange. Her gleaming red eyes moved slowly between the speakers.
“A Hammerhead would function,” she said evenly. “However… There is another option.”
She tilted her head, and her gaze settled briefly on Vance.
“My cruiser is stationed nearby.”
A small pause followed her words.
“It is capable of atmospheric entry, orbital travel, and surface traversal.”
Velira’s spider droid shifted above, as if acknowledging the mention. A faint curve danced across her lips.
“The hull configuration is… unconventional. Arachnid, as some might say…”
She gestured lightly to the hologram of the desert terrain with one gloved hand.
“In the Jixuan desert, larger arthropod lifeforms are not uncommon. From a distance, the silhouette would blend naturally with native predators and crawlies moving through the dunes.”
Her crimson eyes flicked toward Sirra for a brief moment in an acknowledgment of practicality.
“It also allows us to approach low along the terrain, rather than descending directly from orbit, for purposes of discretion. If acceptable, I shall escort the team aboard.”
Velira turned without waiting and gestured for them to follow, should they choose to, the shadowy black silk of her cape flowing behind her as she made her way towards the vessel.
At first glimpse, it did not resemble a traditional starship. The vessel’s shadowy form crouched at the far edge of the property. Eight long landing struts arched outward from a central armored body, their segmented plating layered like dark chitin as they pierced the ground below.
The hull itself was matte black, broken by subtle overlapping plates that resembled armored exoskeleton segments. Dim crimson running lights traced along the edges of the structure in vein-like patterns.
From beneath the central body, a ramp slowly descended with a quiet hydraulic hiss, beckoning to them. Above the ramp, a cluster of small red optics and antennae resembling the multifaceted eyes of an arachnid mechanically scanned below.
Velira paused at the base of the ramp and turned back to the group. The spider droid that had followed them from the estate skittered up the ramp ahead of her, vanishing into the dimly lit interior of the ship.
“This is The Gravewalker. You are welcome aboard…”
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Alex - now fully clad in his matte black armor with gold and silver accents, having made a quick stop at the Herald - let his eyes pass between the ship, the droid, and the person welcoming them.
“You have got a little bit of a theme going on, I think.”
The half Sephi smirked catching her gaze as she silently walked off towards the ship.
Following her lead, he stopped briefly at the exit door of the meeting room to grab his tool belt and effects, strapped them on and placed his rifle behind his back before sauntering out.
The blistering heat accompanied with a slight breeze hit him as he looked at the Gravewalker.
Arcing an eyebrow, he chuckled and winked at Velira.
“Well now, not everyday I get to ride a spider ship with a gorgeous mysterious lady to boot. Count me in!”
Having followed the others outside, Sirra was somehow still surprised by the sight of the Gravewalker. She had expected a horrifying beast of metal, a black omen of a ship resembling a coffin and adorned with a crown of spikes. But the thing that met them was almost more animal than vessel; a squat armoured arachnid which reminded her of long dead creatures she had studied about on Duros. Or entities which had besieged the Republic and its allies in wars which had once ravaged the galaxy and almost driven the Jedi to extinction.
Even with its horrifying exterior, there was no denying it was smaller and easier to land unseen than the hulking Hammerhead corvette. Between it and the assault ship that Blackhawk had mentioned providing far more firepower, they had a better chance of breaching the facility and then covering any escape.
“It will do,” Sirra said with a nod. Then, looking to one side, she seemed to blink out of existence. Seconds passed by and, after roughly a minute, she reappeared again. Gone were the overalls she had arrived in, and in its place she now wore the black silent plating of a suit of stealth armour, with a heavily reconfigured rifle slung over one shoulder and an ornate blade sheathed at her waist.
“Ready when you are.”
Vincent followed the group to the ship. As the ship came within view, he reached up and released the seals on his helmet, pulling it off. He stared at the ship in amazement. What an absolute work of art, intimidation, and destruction. He glanced around the group.
“I take back my earlier comment. This one knows how to spend credits.” he said, pointing to Velira.
<@607619766752116771>
Uka followed at a slight distance, still not entirely comfortable with how things had gone; certainly, her display of will wasn’t taken quite in the spirit she intended it, but it had apparently defused the situation somewhat.
And compared to a room full of Sith, the… unusual ship was frankly nothing worth commenting on.
At Alex’s comment, she glanced back over her shoulder, amused softness in her expression.
“A theme,” she said gently. “I suppose I do have a fondness for consistency.”
Her gaze lingered briefly on his armor.
“Yours tells a story as well.”
Vance’s remark earned a small, knowing smile.
“Then I’ll try not to disappoint you,” she replied, almost lightly.
Sirra’s reappearance in full gear drew a small nod.
“Thank you.”
Vincent’s comment brought the slightest tilt of her head, her cascade of dark hair shifting with the motion.
“It seemed… appropriate. I can be quite selective when it comes to my purchases,” she said simply.
The interior of the ship closed around them. Dim red lighting traced the curved walls, casting long, gentle shadows. The corridors bent subtly, lined with details resembling an internal skeleton. The air was clean, yet carried a faint, almost herbal undertone—something difficult to place.
The hum of the ship echoed softly and steadily as it set into motion. The Gravewalker lifted from the ground slowly and deliberately. The stars appeared only briefly before giving way to the ochre hues of Ryloth below, as the vessel approached its target destination.
The descent into the Jixuan Desert was silent. The vessel moved along the terrain, gliding low over the dunes to blend. The shifting sands passed beneath them in long, smooth lines, broken occasionally by distant shapes,
The hum of the ship deepened just slightly. When the Gravewalker settled, it did so gently. The legs extended with mechanical grace, pressing into the sand.
The ramp lowered, and Velira stepped out. The dry air of the Jixuan Desert greeted her, carrying the quiet stillness that only vast, emptier places seemed to hold.
She paused. Her head tilted slightly as she drew in a slow breath, her crimson gaze surveying their surroundings as the black silks of her robes billowed behind her in the desert winds.
“…There’s something sweet,” she murmured. It was faint. Velira moved a few steps from the ship, her gaze lowering to a small patch nestled between the dunes. Dark maroon colored blossoms came into view. She crouched, careful not to touch them, simply observing.
“Rylothian lilies. Rare flowers indeed,” she remarked quietly.
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Vance’s eyes got wide as he grinned like a Chesire cat. He had also stepped out briefly to take a look at what she found. Smelling the air, it was true a faint dewlike scent pierced through the dry acridness of the desert.
“Oooh these are just like the ones that Tasha'vel has in her exotic gardens!” He remarked.
“These are definitely worth a fair amount in credits, if you wanted to take some or keep one for whatever you wish, but you have to be careful to harvest them gently cause if you just yank it out, you will kill the flower.”
Vincent scoffed at the flowers. He wasn’t here to garden. Hell, he wasn’t even here for the credits. For a brief moment he considered setting the whole patch ablaze to get the group’s attention back where it needed to be, but he didn’t need another warm hug from a hidden snake… if she was even there anymore…
“If you all want to stop and smell the lilies, do as you wish. The only landscaping I’ve come here to do is burying a slaver and his men.”
Alex glanced at the blooms, making a mental note of them. “I tend to leave all that kind of thing to Tena. Still, while I am quite sure the Wellspring Society likely already has samples of these, may as well let them know about it in case they’re looking to pick up more.” His armor’s HUD flashed briefly as it transferred the specific information about this location as well as a picture of the blooms to storage, to be transmitted back to Hod Haran’s Folly once they came in range of the next long-range transmission relay.
Sirra left the others to gathering flowers, suppressing her distaste for that effort. The biomes of arid environments were fragile enough as it was, without people plucking free plants by the dozen. Still, knowledge of the credits at the end of this mission made her keep silent, focusing instead upon the objectives before them.
Sirra made sure to advance down the ramp after the more armoured figures, keeping low to the dunes. If someone had spotted them coming down, there was every chance they would be facing a raiding party soon enough. Usually the kind armed with sniper rifles and long-range scopes. Quietly regretting not bringing a set of magnoculars with her, Sirra quietly scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. Then, just to be sure, reached out into the Force, picking out any signs of life from nearby, feeling out for anything with a hostile or hunting aspect to their thoughts.
Sirra’s eyes narrowed, as her thoughts brushed against the mind of something moving off in the far distance. Close enough to pick out clearly, she could feel a clawing hunger dominating its attention.
“There is something else here. Not close yet. It’s hungry though.”
Vincent reached to his back and pulled a pair of electrobinoculars from his armor’s pack. He pulled them to his eyes and clicked them on with a high pitched hum. At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned farther away he spotted them. A pack of four large brown insects. Their eyes were red and their thin arms had large hooked claws. The Warlord recognized them almost instantly. He pulled the electrobinoculars from his face and turned to the group.
“Gutkurrs… four of them…” he said, sure of himself. “They’re still about 10 kilometers away, but they’re approaching fast. They know we’re here.”
He put the electrobinoculars back into his pack and then pulled his helmet from the clip on his belt. He pulled it over his head until his armor hissed. He then spoke again, in a much deeper, modulated voice.
“I’d say we have 5 minutes before they’re here… six tops.”
“Six minutes, well that gives me time then.”
Vance took the black rifle from his back, stepped up onto a nearby dune and steadied himself in place.
Licking a finger, he placed it into the air, testing the wind’s direction before looking through the scope.
He already could see the creatures coming and had one in his sights.
Adjusting his rifle slightly for wind compensation and trajectory, he flipped off the safety and placed his trigger finger at the ready.
“Show them what you got, Vangwemore.”
Pulling the trigger, Vance fired a bullet out across the desert. Finding its mark, one of the creatures growled menacingly, letting out a hiss as blood oozed from the bullet wound and onto the chitinous exoskeleton of the gutkurr. A direct hit, but not quite enough to stop it.
“They are still coming, hit it, but gonna take more than one shot for me.”
Now that would be a waste.
Rather than reaching for her own rifle, Sirra raised one hand, fingers splayed open and concentrated. Her mind was cast outward, sensing the burning pyres of each hunter’s soul within the Force. Then, she reached in, coiling her will about the mindset and instincts of each one. They were simple but brutish in their nature, knowing no mercy and nothing of affection, but with an unbreaking will to hunt, survive, and grow. A powerful and blunt mind, but easy enough to control. She tapped into the hunting mindset of each one and took control, temporarily severing their minds from their single domineering directive.
In the physical world, the pack of hunting beasts slowed, their armoured and bulbous forms coming to a standstill some distance from the group. They stared directly ahead, a glassy look in their eyes as if held in a trance.
“I have them under control,” Sirra said, her voice tight and making a conscious effort to talk as she mentally held the creatures in check. “So long as I can stay focused on this, they are bound to my will. They should be useful as a distraction once we reach our target.”
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A subtle shift in her posture followed, something faintly approving and curious. Her crimson eyes flicked once more across the beasts, studying the invisible threads of will binding them. There was something familiar in it— not the method, but the shape of it. The reduction of something wild into something useful, against their very nature.
Her gaze drifted back to Sirra, head tilting ever so slightly, the cascade of her dark auburn hair forming a shadow over her face. “How efficient,” Velira remarked quietly, her lips forming a mildly pleased smile.
She fixed her attention again on the ground nearby that held clusters of red, delicate blooms— the Rylothian lilies, their vibrant coloration almost luminous against the harsher terrain. Velira’s attention settled on them clinical interest, now that the lurking predators had been subdued. She approached without haste, slipping on leather protective gloves, as she crouched beside the flowers to closer inspect them and the odd sheen that coated their petals.
“Toxic. How lovely,” she murmured to herself. With careful precision, Velira selected only the most mature blooms, those richest in concentration, slicing them cleanly at the stem and placing them into a small glass vial. She tucked the vial away into the silk sleeves of her robes, with the intent of further study to craft a serum for some of her “patients”.
Velira rose smoothly, removing the gloves and discarding them with little ceremony. Already nearing the ship, her pace was unhurried but certain. She ascended without looking back, slipping once more into the familiar quiet of its shadowed interior, awaiting the others.
Once those who wished to join were aboard the vessel, it began to crawl across the landscape like a shadow, camouflaging as yet another creature across the sands, as it carried them to their destination.
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