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Thread: [IC] Star Wars - Decreed [Mature]

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    Sci Fi [IC] Star Wars - Decreed [Mature]


    A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

    The year is 10 BBY. For nine years the Empire has been tightening its grip on the galaxy. What Jedi that survived Order 66 have fled into hiding for their own safety, taking with them the knowledge and history of their order. The Empire has found plenty of willing recruits to bolster its ranks; from ex-slaves, politicians and smugglers to everything in between, all eager to take whatever they can get...Or just to avoid being harmed themselves.

    It seems however that the Emperor has grown bored with the softly-softly -if it could be called that- and a new decree has been dispatched to all corners. It will no longer be possible to 'toe the line' and pay lip service to the Empire. Every citizen of the galaxy must now be registered as a supporter or enemy of the Empire. Those that are labeled as enemies, and those that refuse to be registered, are to be captured or killed on sight.

    Stormtroopers and loyal officers are being dispatched to every known planet to catalog and register locals. The net is closing in on those who wish to be free from Imperial influence and control.







    Spoiler: Character Cards 



    Spoiler: RULES 
    "Ye mustn't be afraid to ask for help. Pride is a good thing, my girl, but it will kill you in time." - Granny Weatherwax

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    Miahal Shalina was technically immune to the registration since she was a droid, but she found it easier to operate if she allowed people to think she was a human. Saved her a lot of time not explaining everything to people. As a bodyguard, assassin, translator, bounty hunter, and lover the Empire was one of her best clients. She took no sides in any conflict whoever paid the best bought her loyalty for the length of the contract. She naturally registered as a supporter of the Empire, she didn't care one way or another.

    Her current assignment was a long-term bodyguard/assassination contract. She was contracted to protect an Imperial as he toured the Outer Rim. What exactly he was doing she had no idea. All she knew was he was going to a bunch of different planets and every once in a while she would be contacted about assassinating someone. Today she found herself on Nar Shadaa. Why? She had no fragging clue. She just knew this day was going to be a pain in her ass.


    Malakai Burnlaye had been in carbonite stasis for 150 years. She was currently on display in a gallery on Nar Shadaa for anyone to see if they had enough to get in. Word of her prominent display had come to the attention of activists who did not support that particular form of art. They broke in during the night and freed several carbonite works of art. When Malakai woke up she and the others were suffering from hibernation sickness.

    She was experiencing the following symptoms temporary stiffness, muscle weakness, numbness, deafness, blindness, confusion, exhaustion, dehydration, dizziness, & memory loss. Her rescuers gave her some andris as a remedy for hibernation sickness.

    Malakai and the others rescued were taken to a safe house on Nar Shadaa where a doctor was looking after them. The doctor was amazed by Malakai's condition. Hers was the most serious case he has ever seen that didn't result in death. The doctor was a Jedi sympathizer when he discovered her lightsabers he kept them hidden. The others might have been as understanding as him. Malakai was under the doctor's supervision for months. She used the Force to see since her eyes were incapable. Her hearing eventually came back. Even after months and numerous treatments her natural sight never returned. The doctor was not hopeful that it ever would. The doctor during her treatment got her up to speed on the history of the universe since she entered hibernation. With the doctor's help and leaning into lack of natural sight she developed a cane that she could use that would also hide her lightsabers. The doctor also acquired some normal clothes for her to wear. The only armor she kept was the vambraces that had hidden lightsabers.

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    Shakara set his drink down on the bar, his eyes sliding to the side. Three of them, moving around the cantina, registering patrons. Shakara smirked at the lies of the patrons, finished his drink and raised a single finger the the bartender, ordering another bantha blaster.
    "Hey you."
    Shakara slowly turned in his seat toward the trooper behind him, who then continued, "Your name?"
    Shakara let out a sigh, then his response, "Sudas tu."
    "From?"
    "Sudas tave aeuso. Mezdi dabar ar tu geida kia mezdi sis aikste su tu'iea natura."
    "Do you support the empire?"
    Silence between the two. Shakara turned around to the bar, placed a handful of flan on the counter, picked up his drink and finished it, then spoke, "Tu fasonija tu'iea siurk."
    Shakara placed his left foot against the bar, moving his right hand to his side. He kicked with his left foot.
    It was quick, a spin, the powering up of a lightsaber, and at the end, Shakara was facing the bar, his white leftsaber in an underhand grip, and a bisected storm trooper. He extended his empty hand towards the two other troopers, knocking them promptly onto their backs, then Shakara stood up from his stool and ran.

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    In the shadow of Nal Hutta, Nar Shadaa, the smuggler's moon shone brightly. It was not far from this, that a unit of Star Destroyers lay in wait, slowly orbiting as though they were watching and perhaps plotting. Those on board went about their business, Imperial decrees phased them not, as all they did was in service to the throne. Every new order built on the last. When the decree for registration came down, it wasn't much of a surprise. Then again, precious little was a surprise in the years since the Emperor seized absolute control.

    On one such Destroyer, in a hushed room a group of Senators gathered. In soft, almost whispered voices, thoughts were exchanged. The decree had a deep impact in the Senate, it seemed almost meaningless to fight it. Yet there were those who championed it. Among that subset there were those who served simply to please the Emperor, and those who craved acceptance and indulgence. Rare was the soul who served for the austere nature of service.

    The group, the most ardent supporters of the policy, were dispatched to be impress upon local authorities the importance, no, the severity of the decree. What better place to start than the lawless smuggler's moon? Behind a simple, unimposing desk sat a figure, draped in flowing white fabric, a simple dress that fell to her feet and matching cape. Her dark brown eyes were foreboding, appearing to lack life or any sense of a soul. Black hair arranged in an elegant and ornate up-do that was characteristic of her home world. The figure had survived the useless reign of Amidala, and now rose in her own right to office of Senator.

    As Marienna Beren cast her gaze across the assembled group, one might remark on her beauty. She was striking, haunting almost. There was something unsettling about her appearance, likely the lack of emotion that read across her features. She had quickly gained favor amongst the radical, and made a name for herself, one of the Emperor's favorites. She was loyal, she followed the letter of a law and never acted too far outside of the boundaries. Every person she took down, she did with grace and ease. One did not cross Senator Beren without consequence.

    "We will find them. We will end them." Marienna spoke. The Senator's voice matched her appearance, cold, with a harsh edge. Those who fled registration, those who escaped Order 66, those who began to show an inkling of Force Sensitivity and were begging for reprieve on this seedy planet. She would seek them out, she would restore order. "Sympathizers, collaborators, conspirators. All must be weeded out." There was a grave severity in the words she spoke to the curated group, each selected for this mission for a purpose.

    The Senate alone was not enough, intelligence was the name of the game. For that, the Lady Syanna Mortus was required. Long ago the two had crossed paths and forged an unlikely friendship, of a sort. Syanna served a unique purpose, and a unique position of privilege. There was little she did not know and her tenacity was something Marienna held in the highest regard. The two would meet at the Space port. Syanna preferred to travel in comfort, the Senator preferred safety. It was rare for her to deign appropriate to leave Coruscant, save for the occasional trip to Naboo to fulfil her duties as Senator. In truth, she detested her own people, their love for democracy, freedom. It was almost sickening.

    The group boarded a transport which in time made it's way to the space port. The Senator departed, with others in tow and naturally accompanied by a contingent of guards. There were no chances to be taken. Something of a smile cracked across her pallid lips. Word of commotion, and lightsabers had been all too quick to reach her ears. This was going to be fantastic.
    Second star to the right and straight on till morning.

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    When Lady Syanna had read the new decreed she, much like her friend, Marienna, had been thrilled. Partly because she believed it was the right thing for the galaxy, and partly because it would cause chaos in those sectors she loved to move in. It would be a boon to her spy network; with everyone who wished to escape taking risks left, right and centre, and playing right into her hands.

    This thought came back to her as she lounged in the large, and deep -it could accommodate 6 people if needed!- bath in her private quarters. Like most of her interior-decorating choices, the bathroom was done in shades of grey, black and gold, with deep obsidian coloured tiles, picked out with tiny golden flower tiles at random places along the walls. The tub itself was sunken into the floor -quite a feet for plumbing design in a cruiser but the Lady was never concerned with what could be done, only that she wished it done- and coloured gold so that the water itself seemed to glow when she bathed.

    The idea of bathing in gold had always amused her greatly. It appealed to her love of wealth. It was, to her mind, the very ideal of opulence.

    Syanna swam to the side of her great bath and lent her head on the lip with a smirk. She knew time was marching on and she had to get ready for the arrival at Nar Shadaa, but still she lingered a few moments longer. It would not take long to dress; her hair, already styled and piled upon her head in a mass of burning red curls, pinned with her two trusty blade-hairpins, took the longest and that was done. Her gown awaited her nextdoor in her room, along with her handmaidens to dress her.

    Finally, with a sigh, she reached over and picked up a delicate golden bell and rang it. Of course, buttons and various technology existed that could do the same thing and summon her servants, but Syanna clung, with almost fanatical obsitence, to the, in her view, more civilised way of doing things and so she had a bell. It was also while she had no truck with droids, of any sort. She would no have none of them dashing about her ship, cluttering up the place and ruining the peace and calm with their beeping.

    No.

    No such things for the Lady Syanna.

    She instead had servants, male and female, all humanoid, through of various races, and all considered to be shining examples of looks and beauty in their species. She dressed them in grey, black and gold, and held them to strict rules and a code of loyalty that was so rigidly enforced that death was the only way to leave her service once one entered it.

    As such, she did not have to wait even a full 30 seconds before a female Togruta, dressed in white and gold, entered the room and bowed. "My Lady," she said, and held up a towelled robe for her Mistress to step into.

    Syanna climbed from the pool, unconcerned with modesty, and stepped into the robe the girl held. "How close are we, Temi?"

    "About an hour or so away, my Lady. We have received a communique from the Senator and she shall meet you upon the shipyard when you dock."

    "I see...Good, good. Well she shall expect us to be late," Syanna was well known for being 'fashionably' late when dealing with politicians; it annoyed them and they made mistakes. She was always waiting for business and military contacts though; that put them off their stride. Everything, to her, was a game of getting what she wanted. "So we need not hurry. Still, I should like to be in orbit when they arrive, so I might assess the situation on Nar Shadaa...it has been some time. Come, Temi, I must dress."

    -

    A little over an hour later, Syanna's cruiser touched down at the port and a small detachment of stormtroopers, clad in white and gold armour -a special agreement between her and her minders- marched down the gangway and stood to attention.

    The Lady herself then alighted, walking down with amazing grace, considering the heavily layered gown she wore. It was deep purple, with long flowing sleeves that almost trailed the ground. All throughout the fabric, like cracks in the ground after an quake, were seams of gold thread, some thick, some thin, giving the illusion that, at any moment, the gown would burst open into a shower of liquid gold. The wide obi-belt she wore covered the space from her breasts to her hip almost, and was black in colour, the black of endless space. It was a strange mix; a rich coloured gown, slashed with gold, to suddenly the blackest colour possible. It dragged at the eye.

    Behind her came her handmaids, Temi, and another two; one human, and one Mirialan, heads down, hands clasped demurely in front of them.

    "Is she here?" Syanna asked one of the port's guards, who hurried over.

    "Y-yes, my Lady, yes, if you would follow me," he stumbled over his words and hastily set off towards the Senator's transport, where her own guards were waiting.
    Last edited by DuchessLivilla; 08-13-2022 at 02:53 PM.
    "Ye mustn't be afraid to ask for help. Pride is a good thing, my girl, but it will kill you in time." - Granny Weatherwax

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    Tears streaked down Aurra's cheeks as Aurora II was in hyperdrive. She was finally able to cry. Her right hand clenched the hyperdrive lever while the other gripped her upper arm; blood came trailing out of her deep wound but she didn't seem to care at the moment.

    "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She cried out loud and then she screamed - screamed for all of them. Her siblings. Her parents. Her relatives on Corellia. Her Master. Their deaths were all to save her; to become a Jedi Knight and possibly more than that - it seemed but a curse in disguise. Why was she born so sensitive to the force? Out of all in the galaxy... why her? It appeared more of a condemnation than anything else. If only she had not been so set on becoming a Jedi maybe they would all still be alive, even Huin Far. Perhaps he would have set out on that venture he always spoke about instead of teaching her to become a Jedi but despite it all... she understood deep down this was her destiny, and whether or not she was to become a Jedi Darth Vader would have found her eventually.

    Jeti, the tideer she had known since he was a cub, tried comforting her for the thirty minutes she sat there. He had been on her vessel on Tatooine during the time of her capture. They were headed away from the planet to get further off from the Empire. Ultimately, Aurra began to feel the physical pain that came with being tortured. She let her emotions get the better of her while her wounds required healing. Huin could use force healing and a myriad of times he had attempted to teach her but to no avail. She cursed under her breath as she wiped her tears away and lifted herself from the burgundy chair while placing her starship on autopilot. Jeti followed her to the bathroom but once there Aurra shut the door on him after giving him a small pat.

    Aurra gazed into the mirror, her eyes were red and puffy; her left cheek was bruised. How was she to become a true Jedi if she couldn't gain control of her emotions? She gripped the sink. Her eyes were a dark brown, and her messy hair was jet black and set into a queue with fabrics keeping it somewhat together. Her hair reached down below her bottom and her bangs were parted. Her golden brown skin was littered with fresh cuts and burns and on the right side of her hip was a branding mark. The Empire was truly evil. They could have eliminated her instead but they chose torture. As if that would compel her to change her mind and join the Inquisitors, especially after they killed her family. They knew she was only but a Padawan.

    Aurra's physique was shaped nicely and well-toned; weighing 120 pounds and standing at just five feet and four inches. She would need to change her entire clothing and perhaps even gain a few tattoos to further her alias. She didn't mind permanent ink on her skin, she even found it to be attractive. She sighed and grabbed the small amount of sansanna spice that was still sitting around by the sink.

    It's just for the pain... She lied to herself.




    The tattoo artist Aurra found on Nar Shaddaa was cool and collected. He drew on her stomach with careful ease as if he had done it over a thousand times, which was probably true. After a while, the tattooist had finished on her stomach and moved to her arms but suddenly he stopped and hushed everyone out of the shop. Aurra sat up and wondered what was going on, she almost pulled out her blaster but thought better of it. He must have noticed the branding mark she had forgotten to hide in her spice-induced mindset as he said to her quietly, "Might wanna hide that."

    Aurra hesitated for a minute, "Are you-"

    "With the Empire? No. I do not agree with their methods in the slightest." He cut her off.

    She pursed her lips.

    The other human got up and left the scene before coming back with a pair of clothes, "These used to belong to my daughter, she was... a wielder."

    What he gave Aurra was blue clothes that covered only her chest and legs, and her shoes were leathered. It had a hood to conceal one's features as well. She hurried them on as the tattoo artist turned from her and she did a once over, they fit rather nicely. She noticed he used past tense when speaking about his daughter, "Your daughter... you speak about her in the pretense..."

    "As I said, she was a wielder."

    It seemed he did not wish to speak about her any further so Aurra dropped the subject. She was never one to pry. She left the tattooist's small cantina after he had finished her arm tattoos and she issued a thank you as people began to pile back in.
    Last edited by ElizabethStark; 08-15-2022 at 09:34 PM.

    "Thank you, Master."
    "You're welcome, My Padawan."

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    Blood pounded in Verantis’ ears. The sand of the arena was hot beneath his feet and it was interfering with his thermal sense. Snarling, he leveled his sword at his opponent: a Wookiee male built like a brick shithouse armed with a mace. Grakkus liked to have his gladiators use their species’ traditional weapons if they came from less advanced worlds, which is how he came to be fighting a Wookiee in nothing but a loincloth and armed with nothing but a pair of lig swords.

    He began to move left and his opponent moved right. The two circled each other for a moment, eyes locked. Then, with a throaty reptilian roar, Verantis pounced. The Wookiee roared back and ran to meet him.

    Verantis ducked under the swing from the heavy mace, feeling the sharp block of durasteel whizz past his head. With a flash of impervium, Verantis slashed the Wookiee’s calves with his sword. He rolled forward, narrowly being missed by the mace. Spinning to face his opponent, Verantis’ eyes widened to see the mace head colliding with his jaw. Verantis’ vision flashed white as his faceplate, the one piece of armor he was allowed to keep, clattered to the floor of the arena. He snarled an expletive about his foe’s mother in Kaleesh before jumping to his feet.

    The Wookiee was already there, swinging his blasted mace. Verantis inverted his grips on his swords and spun, a flourishing whirlwind of blades. The Wookiee howled as two slashes appeared on his chest, blood spraying the sand in front of him. He stumbled back, holding his chest with one hand. Verantis leaped, slicing at the Wookiee’s forearm.

    The Wookiee swung his mace again, but too slowly this time. Verantis sidestepped the blow, now even closer to his foe. The Wookiee reached out with his now blood-stained hand and Verantis took the opportunity to disarm his opponent. A fur-covered hand hit the sand and the Wookiee screamed. Verantis snarled and slashed an X across the Wookiee’s stomach. Viscera hit the ground with a wet splurch. Verantis leaned in close, gripping the Wookiee’s head.

    “You fought well, Wookiee. I hope your soul finds peace.” With that, he stood and with a final slash, the Wookiee’s head slid off his neck. Verantis’ eyes scanned the crowd for the Hutts’ box. When he found it, he raised his blood-soaked arms and roared a terrible Kaleesh roar.




    Later, after he had been washed and fed, he walked with Grakkus. The massive Hutt preferred to locomote himself with a dozen sets of mechanical legs rather than slither across the ground like his brethren. He seemed to think it make him appear elevated above the rest of his sluglike ilk, but Verantis viewed all Hutts with the same thinly-veiled disgust.

    “I expect double my normal rate for this, Grakkus,” Verantis growled.

    “Of course, of course. Anything for my favorite bounty hunter,” Grakkus waved his hands as if to do away with any thought otherwise. His reedy, slimy voice was surprisingly high pitched for a Hutt of his magnitude, but Grakkus was full of surprises. He was oozing pheromones Verantis recognized as the flattering type for Hutts, which was unsurprisingly similar to their lying pheromones.

    His Gamemaster, a red-skinned humanoid who was a glorified majordomo presented a cantons of credits. Verantis took it happily, feeling the satisfying weight of a job well done.

    “I do so hope you’ll visit us again, Kravarr. I’d love to have you as my champion full-time.” The gleam in the Hutt’s eye was hungry, perhaps more than usual for a Hutt. Verantis shook his head.

    “No, I prefer the hunt. But maybe I will fight some more Wookiees, if you can make it worth my while.”

    “Of course! And, good hunting.” By now, they had made it to the landing platform. With a nod, Verantis activated his Jetpack and took off into the city to see a man about a hunt.
    <a href=https://images.app.goo.gl/MJKETshMQ8yXopEM8 target=_blank>https://images.app.goo.gl/MJKETshMQ8yXopEM8</a>

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    Malakai Burnlaye could sense someone through the force. She had her doctor show her around town. She was on Nar Shadaa once ages ago. It was very different. She listened to the doctor as he spoke about the various businesses and buildings around them. At one point she saw through the Force a child coming at her but she didn't react. The child ran into her. She grabbed the kid's hand as the little urchin tried to pick her pocket. "Wrong pocket little one." With her free hand, she tossed something and let the boy chase after it. "Why did you give him credits?" Malakai laughed, it was sweet and gentle. "I just made him think it was. It was a random bit of candy." They kept walking for a while. They eventually came upon the spot where some Stormtroopers were murdered. She could smell burnt flesh. She whispered into the doctor's ear. "Lightsaber attack. Distinctive aroma, not very pleasant. Worse if the victim is a Wookie. Burnt fur is the worst."


    Miahal Shalina was following her assignment around for awhile on Nar Shadaa. Her current boss also had Stormtroopers accompanying him in their standard armor and weapons. Miahal didn't trust the Stormtroopers, they couldn't hit the broadside of a capital ship if their lives depended upon it. Why the Empire insisted on these dunderheads is beyond her. The Clones were much better. Miahal suspected her boss also didn't trust the Stormtroopers to do the job either, why else hire her. The meeting was to happen soon, she was scoping out the meeting spot so she could plan for any attacks.
    Last edited by KRCmdrSheppard; 09-08-2022 at 08:59 PM.

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    Shakara pulled himself fully onto the rooftop, taking a moment to look down at the two fallen troopers. More would undoubtedly be here soon, plus Shakara had already ruled out this location for his target. He turned and walked to the other side of the rooftop, a view of the spaceport.
    He wondered for a second why any parent would bring their children to this place, as a family of Twi'leks disembarking from their ship. Shifting his view to other ships, some kind of royalty, and then his last glance, troopers, probably someone important. Would probably be best for a pickup. Shakara pulled a communicator from his belt and brought it to his mouth, and was about to speak, before his eyes widened, and quickly put the communicator back on his belt.
    That was senatress Marienna Beren. A smirk crossed Shakara's lips, "Amzi kia zaist.(Time to play.)"

    Just a few moments later, the sound of two lightsabers activating, and a voice coming from behind Marienna and her guards, "Senatress Beren, I've been so excited to meet you."
    "There's a fundamental truth to our nature. Man must explore."

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    Ah yes. There was the sweet, sweet sound the Senator had not heard in some time. The distinct hiss and then steady hum of lightsabers igniting. It was just a moment later that the voice of a man reached her ears. Marienna looked down at the ground, utterly unremarkable. Something of a smile crossed her face, before raising her head once more. The senator took her time in responding. The warm winds of Nar Shaddaa blew, carrying with them stray strands of her raven hair, and the crisp white fabric of her dress and cloak.

    "Have you?" Marienna called, an inherent icy quality in her tone. "Somehow, I simply cannot imagine that being true." There was a long, exasperated sigh. It was as though Marienna were more bothered than anything else. Her guards had already turned around and closed rank, pulling in closer to her. It was at this moment that Marienna turned to face the one who had dared to interrupt her.

    "Serennian." The clothing the man wore was entirely distinctive of his home, or what she had assumed was his home. The flow of the fabric, the pattern, it reminded her of Count Dooku, what a weak man he had been. Laughable almost. "This is all rather convenient. My retinue and I came all this way to look for the likes of you... and here you are, coming to me. Now I am positively enthralled by your boldness." There was a hint of sarcasm in her words as she simply stared out at him. Her eyes, dark, seemed soulless. There was no kindness within her, or at least none that any could perceive. The remaining Senators behind her slowly, very slowly make their way back toward the ship, yet Marienna remained. "I am hoping you can help me." Her words feature an uplifting lilt, almost one of confident optimism.

    "There's an intriguing little rumour going about. Something along the lines of the Serennian government harboring Jedi... or should I say those who were once Jedi." Marienna laughed, as though amused at her own joke and waved her arms in a mocking comedic gesture. "Or those precious little ones... just starting to realize that they too can feel the ripples of the force begin to course through them.." Marienna's mouth turned for a moment into a twisted smile before the emotion vanished from her face. "No matter." The Senator took a step back and shrugged it off.

    "In a way, I suppose I should be thanking you. Making this so very easy. Unfortunately for you, today will not be the day you die." Marienna wasn't quite done amusing herself so soon. "You're about to captured, brutally interrogated, and then and only then will you be sentenced to death." Anticipating a response from the figure before she, she raised a single hand, as though to stop him proactively. "Before you try something foolish. You may wish to turn your gaze upward. Take note of the Imperial Class I Star Destroyer." The Senator dropped her hand and shook her head. "If you think for even a moment that I would hesitate to have this entire platform taken out, you don't know my work very well." Marienna now clasped her hands together in delight, terribly pleased with herself.

    "Guards. If you would be so kind." The two of the four guards surrounding her moved forward, a further contingent of troopers exited her transport and made their way to the scene. "Now do be quick about it. I'm late for a very important meeting. I do dread the very thought of being tardy." The two troopers are her side quickly hurried the Senator off of the platform as best they could while the other troopers positioned themselves to engage the mysterious figure.
    Last edited by Hannelorian; 08-16-2022 at 05:31 PM.
    Second star to the right and straight on till morning.

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