Ask The Spice Trade II

[Thel Xeros]

Troiken

Thel had returned to Troiken to carry out the final part of his plan. During his previous visit, he and Cyutadakyr had helped the spice mining syndicate there wipe out a group of troublesome bandits. This had earned him their trust and he begun working as a contractor for the syndicate. However, he wanted more than that. Though the credits were good, he wanted the spice running operation brought under Sith control. The only obstacle were the Pykes who formed part of the syndicate’s leadership. They needed to be dealt with. He had secured the cooperation of the Xexto, Morgano, who helped run the syndicate. The plan was to wipe out the Pyke leadership, headed by Sym Pyke, and those loyal to them. He also realised that it would be good to have the assistance of another Sith. A Sith called Zorya had agreed to help. He had not met her before but, as long as she was somewhat competent, she should be useful.

The Pykes had arranged a party aboard their sail barge, to celebrate the syndicate’s recent successes. Thel had been invited to attend. This is where the Pykes would be dealt with.

The sail barge flew slowly over the vast forest. The barge was packed with party goers. Thel and Zorya were on the lower deck along with Styre, the head of the syndicate’s security. He was in on the scheme, as were many of the other security personnel. The Pykes were on the top deck. Everything was in place. Thel took a look around the busy room. It was filled with guests carousing. “They’re about to get a shock,” Styre remarked, grinning. Thel turned to look at the stocky security officer. “Yes, they will. But I’m not really interested in them. Only in the Pykes.”

Thel had chosen to dress in his usual attire. He glanced over at his fellow Sith. She was very quiet, unlike her small companion.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Silent and still, Zorya stood, a raven-black silhouette amongst the rambunctious festivity. Her attire swathed her form in obsidian hues: raven-black jacket and trousers, a hooded cowl, a mask that shrouded her mouth and accentuated her prominent cheekbones with a glint of gold. A crimson shawl draped regally over her shoulders, contrasting vividly against her midnight palette. This covert operation on Troiken, a confluence of stealth and subterfuge, was the sort she delighted in, her quietude shielding a torrent of anticipation.

Perched on her shoulder, O'bog, her feisty Ximpi proxy, ricocheted around their assigned room, his complaints a barrage of colourful metaphors about the pungent body odours infiltrating their space. He swooped towards Thel, took an exaggerated sniff, and returned to his perch, evidently finding the Sith agreeably unscented. "He ain't a stinkin' gurnard, at least!" O'bog declared, a chortle bubbling in his voice.

Meanwhile, within the serenity of Zorya's psyche, the plan unfurled. She parsed every variable, contemplating contingencies, preparing for unpredictability. Should Morgano prove untrustworthy, a swift silencing would be in order, her saber's deadly hum a reminder of Sith resolve. If the Pykes discovered their intentions prematurely, she would rely on her deftness in the Yacombe tradition, manipulating the ebb and flow of the Force to disorient her opponents. Troiken would be Sith-controlled, come what may.

O'bog fluttered from his perch, alighting on the armrest of Thel's chair. "Now listen here, lad," he said, his voice taking on a semblance of seriousness. "Zorya wants ya to spin the yarn once more. Run through that plan again, will ye?" Zorya's gaze, sharp and unyielding, turned towards Thel, silently emphasizing O'bog's request. There was work to be done, and time was a resource they could ill afford to squander.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel watched as the small creature darted around the room and made disparaging remarks about various guests. Not all of the comments were entirely inaccurate. The creature eventually settled on the arm of Thel’s chair. Thel had chosen not to sit, and he instead stood next to the seat.

“Now listen here…”

Thel turned to look down at the diminutive being as it addressed him. It wanted another run through of the plan. He glanced over at Zorya, noting her steely gaze. Her small companion was obviously the spokesperson for the pair.

“As you know, we will remove the Pyke faction from their position as part of the leadership. The native Xexto faction, allied with us, will then assume complete control. Security personnel loyal to the Xextos are positioned on this deck, the deck above and the top deck. In five minutes, when I receive the signal and give the go ahead, we will wipe out the Pykes in one swift stroke.” He spoke in a hushed voice, still wary of any Pyke sympathisers perhaps hearing something. “Just follow my lead and stay close to me.” Immediately after, he sensed an approaching presence. A security guard approached Styre and whispered something to him; Styre then turned to Thel. “We’ve got a small problem on the deck above. Can you come and take a quick look?” Thel sighed. “What is the problem?” Styre grimaced. “Some guard movement up there. Some of the Pykes’ men have moved down from the upper deck. Not sure why. Maybe you could look and see if the plan needs any adjustment.” Thel contemplated sending Styre to go and look by himself, but he decided he would go and check with him. He sensed no duplicity. “Ok Styre, let’s go and check. Zorya, would you come with us please?”

Thel followed Styre and the other guard up the stairs. The floor above was similar to the one they had just been on. Loud and full of party goers. They moved through the crowd. Thel couldn’t see the extra guards Styre had mentioned. Suddenly, he had a feeling of impending danger. Styre and the other guard turned, blasters pointed at him. “Sorry about this Xeros, but business is business and I back the Pykes.” Thel maintained his calm. He could sense another couple of guards, leaning on the wall on the right side of the room, watching him. He could also sense another two closing in from behind and two moving through the crowd to the left. He hoped Zorya would also be alert to the guards moving to circle around them. The crowd hadn’t noticed anything yet and continued to enjoy the party, unaware of what was happening.

“You’re backing the Pykes over us Styre? That seems unwise. There is still time to reconsider.”

“The Xextos can’t run things. Even with the Sith guiding them. Now, if you and your Sith friend hand over your sabers nice and quietly, you’ll get to live a little longer.”

“So, you’re all still working with the Pykes?”

“Not all of us. There are a few who genuinely support your plan. They’ll be dealt with as well.”

Thel was glad to hear that it wouldn't just be him and Zorya. It was time to take action.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

As Thel unwound his plan, Zorya remained steadfast. Each word seeped into her thoughts, her silent calculation a churning maelstrom beneath a placid exterior. She observed the equilibrium of alliances, a precarious balance of deception and trust. The eradication of the Pykes, the ascendancy of the Xextos—it was an intricate weave of machination she found herself entwined in.

She trailed after Thel and Styre, an incongruous sense of compliance tingling at her instincts. Not one to dance to another's tune, the Sith found herself ensnared in a peculiar alliance, acquiescing to the request of another. A tactical concession, she reasoned, her mind honing in on the broader ambition—a Sith controlled spice syndicate.

Styre's duplicity sliced through the party's veneer of joviality like a cold shock, the festivity now a cacophonous undertow against the unfolding betrayal. Zorya's senses prickled, aware of the encroaching threats. O'bog, ever garrulous, cut through the tension. "Well, ain't this a grand merry-go-round?" His voice held an edge of scorn. "What's next, Styre, ye readin' us bedtime stories?"

In the silence of their symbiotic understanding, a silent command rippled between Zorya and O'bog. In the midst of Styre's treachery, they needed to retain a semblance of discretion, a gossamer thread of stealth that could lead them back to their original mission.

O'bog launched himself from Zorya's shoulder, fluttering close to Styre's face. "So, ye want our sabers, eh?" His voice echoed into the stillness. "Right here? With all these blabberin' gobshites? They're worth a pretty penny, these sabers. Wouldn't it be better to handle the exchange somewhere private?" His eyes gleamed impishly. "And bring yer mates along too. What's two Sith against an army?"

As O'bog weaved his persuasive web, Zorya extended tendrils of her consciousness, the Force echoing her silent directive. She fanned the flames of Styre's paranoia, exacerbating his dread of the crowd. Imagined whispers rustled through his mind, suspicion mirrored in every eye, a mob eager to seize the coveted lightsabers.

Styre's gaze flickered around the room, the multitude of eyes suddenly felt menacing, greed-riddled. He jerked his head towards a more secluded space, a private sanctuary from the swirling sea of treacherous revelers. "Alright, this way. Quietly."

As they moved, flanked on all sides, Zorya's every sense tingled with readiness. Betrayal, deceit, a Sith's playground.

@DMCK

//Rolled a 15/20 for Zorya attempts to convince Styres to lead them away from the party.

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel was ready to attack. He was willing to take a chance that himself, Zorya and whoever had remained loyal would be able to deal with Styre, the Pykes and their conspirators. However, the small creature was, rather surprisingly, able to persuade Styre to escort them somewhere more private.

Styre and the guards ushered Thel and Zorya into a small room on the same deck. The group gathered around a rectangular table. Styre and Thel stood at the head of the table, with Styre keeping his blaster aimed at Thel. The other guards attempted to push Zorya and her small companion towards the opposite side of the table. The other guards gathered around either side of the table. The room’s door was to the left of Styre. Thel maintained his composed demeanour. However, he was fully aware that the attack was supposed to take place in only a few minutes. Those still sided with the Sith and the Xextos would be at a disadvantage unless he and Zorya could quickly manoeuvre themselves out of the situation they were in. He thought it was worth making another attempt to talk Styre around. He had noticed something which presented an opportunity to overcome the guards, but that was his backup option. There was also the chance that Zorya would do something.

“You know Styre, if we get rid of the Pykes, you could run operations here alongside the Xextos. You wouldn’t just be a lackey.”

“You’re not going to talk your way out of this Xeros. Now, both of you, lightsabers on the table.”

“Very well.”

It seems it would have to be his alternative plan, unless Zorya had something else in mind.

(OOC: Failed dice roll to persuade Styre to change his mind.)

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Zorya listened impassively as Thel once again attempted to woo Styre and his henchmen back into the original plot. Her obsidian eyes flickered with suppressed amusement at the hapless gambit; Styre was the embodiment of a durasteel-headed sycophant, his scanty intellect evidently overwhelmed by the blind allegiance to the Pykes.

Time, that capricious jailer, was slipping through their fingers. The hourglass was fast emptying; diplomacy and procrastination had become luxuries they could ill afford. As Thel's persuasive spiel fell on obstinate ears, Zorya cast a mental missive to her steadfast companion, O'bog, the anticipation of direct confrontation sparkling in her thoughts.

Zorya's keen eyes scanned the room, assessing the imminent threats that poised themselves like vipers ready to strike. Styre, his blaster pointed at Thel like a deadly accusation; the guards encircling them with predatory eagerness; the dank, claustrophobic space that held them all captive; the closing window of opportunity that threatened to thwart their carefully laid plans.

She instructed O'bog, perched on her shoulder with an air of defiant cheek, to prepare to signal Thel. Her mental voice was a beacon in the tumult, a silent war drum rallying her allies.

Slowly, deliberately, Zorya reached for her lightsaber, the luminescent shaft a promise of forthcoming chaos. "SIGNAL!," O'bog croaked out, a devious glint in his eyes, hoping to stir Thel into action. As Zorya had extended her hand towards the table, as though to surrender her weapon, she had instead unleashed a potent wave of the Force, aimed squarely at Styre.

The impact was nothing short of spectacular. Styre, caught off-guard, pulled the trigger reflexively. The blaster bolts, meant for Thel, ricocheted off the unseen Force energy, turning with malevolent grace on Styre's own men stationed behind her and Thel, knocking them both out instantly.

Zorya's crimson blade ignited in a flash of primal power, the saber's hum a warcry unto itself. With lithe precision, she lunged at the disoriented Styre, her intentions clear, her actions a rallying cry for Thel to join her in the assault.

@DMCK

//Rolled a 20/20 for Zorya disarming Styre with the Force hence the bonus effect!

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel watched as Zorya reached for her lightsaber, seemingly about to surrender it.

“Signal!”

Thel was just about able to react to Zorya’s attack on Styre. The surge in the force knocked Styre off his feet and caused the blaster bolts he fired to fly into two of the guards. Even with two incapacitated, there was still Styre and five others to contend with. Thel swiftly ignited his lightsaber and thrust his left arm in the direction of the two guards to his right, using the force to violently propel them both into the wall behind. The power in the attack knocked them both unconscious. He turned quickly to his left and manoeuvred his saber to deflect two shots fired at him. One shot rebounded straight back into the chest of the guard who fired it, their body then collapsing to the ground.

Thel leapt up onto the table and then down onto the other side of it. The two remaining guards backed off. Thel flicked his blade to the right to deflect a blaster bolt and then quickly articulated it to the left, slicing across the guard’s chest. Their body fell to the floor, as the remaining guard slowly stepped back. He then stretched his left arm out towards the guard, causing the force to grip tightly around their neck. They were lifted off the ground as they choked. When Thel closed his fist, the guard’s neck snapped and he allowed their dead body to drop to the ground.

The attack was supposed to begin in a few minutes. They might not have the numbers he thought they would, but, with him and Zorya there, their chances of success were still good.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Amidst the sudden eruption of chaos, Zorya stood, her regal silence clashing starkly with the cacophony around her. She observed as Thel, with masterful command of his saber and the Force, disarmed and disposed of their treacherous adversaries. His efficiency was admirable, his movements punctuated by the deadly hum of his lightsaber and the dissonant cries of those who dared to stand against them.

"Och, look at ye Thel, swashbucklin' like ye be in some cheap holo-novel!" O'bog chirped, fluttering above the fray, his jovial demeanor betraying no hint of the danger that pervaded the room.

Zorya, however, was keenly attuned to the volatility of the situation. A murmur of fear slithered through the air as the partygoers outside the chamber became cognizant of the violence within. Her senses were aflame; she could taste the acrid tang of blaster smoke, could feel the echoes of dread that bounced off the metallic walls. The very air felt charged with impending conflict.

Decisively, she allowed the crimson hue of her ignited lightsaber to extinguish, her gaze never wavering from Styre, who was just now struggling back to his feet, a clear mix of fear and anger etched across his face.

"Now, Styre, we've had our wee bit o' fun, but the clock's tickin', and there's a party awaitin' out there," O'bog jabbered, his pixie-like voice echoing in the tense silence. "How's about ye pick yerself up, and we have a nice, civilised chat about our previous proposition, eh?"

Zorya, anticipating Styre's potential retaliation, delicately weaved tendrils of the Force around him, preparing to quell any further treachery. She felt O'bog's capricious energy flutter against her consciousness, his readiness to call another signal at her command.

It was time to regain control, and as the dust began to settle, Zorya felt the stirrings of renewed determination. The odds had never truly been in their favour, but she was no stranger to adversity.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel moved to stand next to Zorya, looming over Styre.

“I don’t know, I…might not be able to talk the others around so quickly,” Styre replied, panic etched across his face.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to,” Thel hissed menacingly. “Now, contact the others,” he continued. He held his saber close to Styre’s throat.

“How do I know you won’t just kill me?”

“I am a pragmatist Styre. You may have been treacherous, but you do have your uses. You could be very helpful in the new regime here.”

Styre paused for a while, seemingly thinking the situation over. “The decision is yours Styre. I hope you make the sensible choice.”

“Ok, I’ll contact the others,” Styre said, looking up at the two Sith. Thel switched off his saber.

“Start contacting them. Quickly.”

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

Bathed in the dim glow of the room's solitary illuminator, Zorya watched as Thel reestablished control of the situation. His unnerving calm and calculated rhetoric had Styre cornered, a fact she found mildly amusing. As the panic-stricken man acquiesced, Zorya relaxed her own mental tendrils of Force manipulation. Her trust in Thel was tacit; their common cause bound them like binary stars.

"Right, Styre, you gab yer pals. Meanwhile, we'll be havin' a wee amble topside. Watch yer tongue now, ye grovelling cur!" O'bog taunted from her shoulder, before turning his attention to Thel. "We'll be awaitin' yer signal, Jedi. Don't keep us waitin', aye?"

With a mere inclination of her head, Zorya acknowledged the plan. She rose, her movements fluid like dark ink dispersing in water. O'bog alighted upon her shoulder, his gossamer wings shimmering under the overhead lights. Their journey to the upper levels of the ship was uneventful, the raucous party providing an effective distraction from their intent. Here, the air was steeped in the scent of foreign spices, intermingled with the heady aroma of expensive liquor.

As she weaved through the crowd, the cacophony of laughter, braying music, and the chink of crystal was as much a part of the ambiance as the lavish decorations. The guests appeared blissfully unaware of the imminent peril, their faces a myriad of cheerful hues reflecting the flamboyant illumination. She felt the prickle of anticipation on her skin; the moment of reckoning was close.

O'bog, taking in the spectacle with wide, glittering eyes, muttered cryptic commentary into her ear. "Lotta toffs in 'ere, ain't there? Reckon they'll be fillin' their breeches soon enough."

Upon reaching their designated position, they melded into the shadowed alcove, the overlooking vantage providing an ideal survey of the area. The hum of the party below provided an oddly comforting rhythm in the waiting game they found themselves in. Zorya, her senses acutely attuned to the swelling tide of the Force, had her focus split between the impending signal and the mounting tension in the room.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

“No, I won’t. The signal will be transmitted via comlink.” Thel watched as Zorya and O’bog left the room to make their way to the upper deck.

Styre hurriedly made calls, as instructed by Thel. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, as he desperately communicated a change in plans to the others. Thel looked on with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Is it done,” Thel asked, when Styre seemed to have finished. “I communicated with everyone; I did my best. I think I’ve got everything back on track.”

“Let’s hope so. If this goes wrong, I’ll make sure you suffer for it,” Thel stated menacingly.

A few more minutes passed by and, as expected, Thel’s comlink began to flash. “That’s the signal.” The go ahead had been given. In response, Thel then sent out the transmission signalling for the attack to commence. Within a few seconds, there was an eruption of violence on each deck of the sail barge. The sounds of blaster fire pierced through the air. Thel hoped that the Pykes, who were on the top deck, would be dealt with quickly.

“Let’s move Styre.”

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

At the prompt, a quiet beep of the comlink, Zorya stirred from her vigil. The moment was upon them, the precipice of chaos giving way to the precipitous descent into conflict. In a heartbeat, her crimson lightsaber sprung to life, casting a blood-hued glow upon her impassive countenance. The party, once filled with the clatter of laughter and music, turned into a stage of mayhem as the signal acted as a catalyst to the carefully laid plans.

"Showtime, lass!" O'bog squealed, glee evident in his voice as they sprang into action.

Elegantly, Zorya danced through the battlefield, each move punctuated by the distinctive sizzle of her lightsaber. Two Pyke guards, too slow to respond to the sudden eruption of violence, met their end swiftly at her blade, their stunned expressions etched in the finality of death.

Chaos unfurled around them like an untamed beast, the once harmonious symphony of revelry now replaced by the discordant cries of terror and the cacophony of blaster fire. Her senses tingled with the raw energy of the conflict, the scent of fear and burning ozone permeating the once-perfumed air.

Through the turmoil, a Pyke lieutenant emerged, his blaster trained on Zorya. Undeterred, Zorya charged, her form a silent tempest amidst the madness. With a mischievous cackle, O'bog darted off her shoulder, a green blur of fluttering wings and defiance.

The lieutenant's blaster bolt was a scorching arc of light, but Zorya moved as if she'd seen the future, her lightsaber twirling with a mind of its own, deflecting the fiery attack. Her footwork was a mesmerizing dance, a ballet of death choreographed in the heat of battle. The lieutenant swung wildly at her with a shock baton, but Zorya was a wraith, her movements fluid and elusive, her lightsaber a fiery pendulum of doom.

Meanwhile, O'bog swooped down, his tiny frame belittling his formidable capabilities. With a sharp chirrup, he unleashed a shockwave, momentarily disorienting the Pyke lieutenant, providing Zorya the opportunity she needed. In an elegant flourish, her crimson blade found its mark, silencing the threat permanently. With the lieutenant's fall, Zorya stood triumphant, the onslaught of the Pykes momentarily checked.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel ignited his lightsaber and stepped into the main room with Styre. A firefight had erupted between the two opposing factions. The room, once filled with party-goers carousing, was now filled with party-goers running desperately to escape the chaos. The dead bodies of those unfortunate enough to have been caught in the initial hail of blaster fire, lay on the floor. A small group of Pyke soldiers and their allies remained, taking cover behind some upturned tables.

Thel stepped forward and used the force to hoist the tables up towards the ceiling, leaving the Pykes and their allies exposed. They were quickly subjected to a barrage of blaster bolts, before Thel dropped the tables back to the ground. The party guests that had tried to flee upstairs would only run into more trouble. A few had remained, cowering in corners, on the floor or under tables. “What should we do with them,” Styre asked. “Like I said, leave them. The Pyke leaders and their security are our only concern.”

Suddenly, Styre’s comlink began to flash.

“What is it?”

“It’s Sym Pyke and the other Pyke leaders. They’re trying to escape. There are Skiffs trying to evacuate them off the top of the barge.”

“Can you stop them?”

“They have us pinned down. Ahh…” The call cut off.

Thel listened intently. Damn. Dashing over to a viewing port at the side of the room and looking outside, he could see two skiffs overhead. They were moving alongside the barge. He assumed there were more. He reached for his comlink and contacted Zorya.

“Zorya, if you can hear this, get to the top of the sail barge now. The Pyke leadership are trying to escape. I’ll get up there to join you.” He turned to Styre. “You and the others should continue dealing with any opposition left on the sail barge.”

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

The urgent blare of Thel's voice echoed in Zorya's mind through the comlink. A new objective crystallized amidst the bedlam - the Pyke leaders. Stoic resolve settled upon her features, her verdant gaze set towards the sail barge. O'bog, sensing the shift in his mistress's intention, flitted restlessly around her, ready for the impending scramble.

"We're on it, matey!" O'bog declared, his shrill voice crackling over the comlink to Thel. His mischief temporarily eclipsed by the gravity of the situation.

The battle that surrounded Zorya seemed almost a peripheral, a tapestry of chaos woven in real-time. Sounds of violence composed a sanguinary symphony around her; each clash of metal, each cry of agony, contributing to the macabre orchestra. The pungent scent of ozone mixed with the acrid tang of burning flesh hung in the air, a grim testament to the toll of the sudden uprising. Yet, through this, Zorya moved with singular purpose, her agility a stark contrast against the tumultuous backdrop.

Her crimson blade sliced through the air, severing paths through any opposition. Every swing of her saber, every step she took, was a piece of a lethal dance, choreographed by the dictates of war. She moved with a predator's grace, an embodiment of the ancient Yacombe tradition, the arcane teachings a driving force behind her every action.

Beside her, O'bog was a tempest, his defiance manifesting in every shockwave he released. The diminutive Ximpi weaved through the conflict, his mischief lending an unpredictable edge to his combat style, catching the enemies off guard.

Progress was laborious, every step bought with the currency of blood and strength, yet they pressed on. The taste of adrenaline on her tongue, the burning in her muscles, all faded into the periphery of her senses, overshadowed by the unwavering focus of her mission.

As they neared the sail barge, O'bog, his voice a touch breathless, radioed Thel once more, "We're on our way, Thel. The party ain't over yet!" Zorya, beneath her silence, felt a surge of determination. The finale of their operation was at hand, and she was ready to play her part.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

O’bog’s response at least assured Thel that Zorya was on her way. However, he needed to try and get up there as well. It would take too long to go up deck by deck. “Styre, do you have a grapnel attachment for your blaster?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Give it to me, please. And the blaster.” Styre obediently handed over the weapon, not wanting to antagonise the Sith. “Right, get moving Styre. Let me get on with things here.” Styre quickly moved on with the others.

Thel clipped the grapnel onto the blaster and then set it aside. Backing away from the viewing port he reached out and used the force to bend the metal flap upwards, opening up the gap. He then pulled his arm back and thrust it forward, sending out a surge of force energy which bent the metal around the viewing port outwards, making the gap even larger. To finish, he placed his hands together and slowly pulled them apart, causing the force to coil around the metal surrounding the gap. The metal was slowly pulled further apart, opening up a hole large enough for Thel to step into.

Stepping towards the edge, the wind blew against him. He looked up at the skiffs moving above him. Time to move. He pulled the blaster into his right hand with the force and took aim at the closest skiff. He fired it and, quite fortunately, it clipped onto the side of the skiff. Gripping the blaster tightly with both hands, he stepped off the edge and was immediately pulled along with the skiff as he desperately held onto the blaster.

Slamming his finger against the button for the grapnel, he was pulled towards the skiff. His fingers and knuckles ached from the exertion of clinging to the blaster. He slammed against the side of the skiff. Reaching out, he was able to grasp the side of the skiff with his left hand. The guards on the skiff hadn’t noticed him, as they were too focused on the top deck of the sail barge. It looked like there were three of them on the skiff. He let go of the blaster and grabbed the skiff with his other hand as well, taking some time to catch his breath. There were two skiffs on the other side of the sail barge. One lined up with the edge, to try and ferry away the Pyke leaders. The other hovered close to it, keeping watch.

Thel pulled himself up and over the railing, rising to one knee just as a guard spotted him. They turned to fire, but he was too quick. Flicking his left hand to the right, the guard was sent careering over the railing and down into the forest below. Rising to his feet, he took a deep breath as he composed himself. The other guard hesitated, giving him a chance to ignite his saber. Swiftly, they were cut down alongside the other guard who was piloting the skiff. Thel quickly took the controls, steadying the skiff.

Hopefully Zorya would reach the top deck soon.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

The relentless cacophony of warfare echoed around Zorya, the metallic taste of adrenaline coating her tongue, blending with the bitter tang of smoke that invaded her nostrils. O’bog zipped overhead, his frenzied movements scattering particles of dust and debris that lightly peppered her face. She exhaled slowly, her muscles humming with pent-up energy, her mind sharp, and senses heightened. The clamour of the battlefield seemed to fade, replaced by a deep, resonant silence that rang within her. She moved with singular focus, carving a crimson path towards the sail barge.

"Thel, you bilge rat, yer signal better be right on time. We're making our final approach!" O'bog relayed, his voice veering between humour and urgency.

Zorya could feel the ship’s hum beneath her fingertips, an echo of her own heartbeat in the cold, unforgiving steel. She sensed the rampant fear and escalating pandemonium, the heightened emotions acting as a beacon to her trained senses. Her saber, an extension of her will, sung through the air, as Zorya fought her way towards the top deck, her movements deliberate and lethal.

Suddenly, a wall of heat struck her, forcing her to halt her advance. An explosion ripped through the deck below, causing the ship to shudder. Instinctively, she propelled herself upward using the force, narrowly avoiding the shower of flaming debris.

Amidst the smoke and confusion, Zorya landed onto the upper deck, her emerald gaze landing on the Pyke leaders just as they began to evacuate onto the skiffs. A fierce determination ignited within her; she was not too late.

O’bog, unscathed and nimbler than his larger Sith companion, zoomed past her, causing one of the skiffs to veer off course with a precise blast of energy. Zorya, lips pursed in a grim line, ignited her saber once more, the glow reflecting in her determined eyes. Their mission was at a critical juncture, their targets within grasp.

There was no room for failure. Zorya steeled herself, the silence within her now a deafening roar as she dashed towards the Pyke leaders, her every sense tuned to the execution of their plan. The final act of their operation had begun, and they would not falter. The Pyke leaders would not escape; she would see to that.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel was relieved when he caught sight of Zorya on the top deck of the sail barge. She was advancing on the Pykes quickly. This will be over soon. Looking up at the skiff in front of him, he spotted the guards taking aim at Zorya. Releasing the controls of the skiff he was piloting, he leapt onto the skiff in front. The one he had been on previously crashed into the forest below. Unleashing a series of furious attacks, the crimson blade quickly carved through the guards on the skiff.

Thel jumped down onto the barge, landing near to Zorya’s position. He had dealt with two skiffs, leaving only the retreating Pyke leaders and their remaining security. The guards on the skiff, overlooking the Pyke leaders, fired at him. Blocking a few shots, he clenched his fist and pushed it in the direction of the guards’ skiff. A wave of force energy rocked the skiff, sending two enemy troops flying overboard. The other two continued to fire. Swiftly moving his blade to deflect the shots back, the troops fell victim to their own blaster fire.

The Pyke leaders were now within reach, as Thel and Zorya closed in on them.

@Aberforth

 

[Zorya]

A grim satisfaction coiled within Zorya as she saw Thel dispatching the Pyke guards with ruthless efficiency. She welcomed his arrival, not out of reliance but for the shared purpose that tied them together. Their united force was unstoppable and resolute.

"By the beard of a bantha, Thel, yer a sight for sore eyes!" O'bog's raspy voice echoed through the comlink, bristling with sardonic cheerfulness that belied the seriousness of the situation.

The Pyke leaders, their faces twisted in a cocktail of fear and rage, were desperately making a beeline towards the last standing skiff. But Zorya would not let her quarry escape. Each step she took was a pledge, a silent promise to seal their fate. She moved like a specter of vengeance, an embodiment of retribution that left naught in her wake but death.

O'bog danced in the air around her, a riotous pixie whirling in the throes of battle. He launched tiny bolts of energy at the fleeing Pykes, diverting their path and herding them towards Zorya, his tiny form a beacon of mischievous defiance in the chaos of the battlefield.

Zorya lunged at the Pyke leaders. The hum of her lightsaber was a harbinger of their impending doom. With a swift, balletic movement, she cleaved through one, then the other, their bodies slumping onto the deck, the glow in their eyes extinguishing as rapidly as their fleeting hope. A wave of vindication swept over her as the Pyke leaders met their end.

"Ye two-faced weasels got what ye deserved!" O'bog exclaimed, flying a triumphant loop around Zorya, his glee palpable even in the bloody aftermath. His jubilant exclamation echoed through the battlefield, serving as an eerie requiem for the fallen Pyke leaders.

Through the smoke and chaos, Zorya stood tall and resolute, her mission accomplished. The resounding silence that blanketed the battlefield was deafening, but within it, she found solace. A silent chant of victory echoed within her, resonating with the hum of her lightsaber, a testament to the justice meted out. The Pyke leaders were no more; they had met their retribution.

@DMCK

 

[Thel Xeros]

Thel stepped back and allowed Zorya to finish off the Pyke leaders, while he swept up the remaining security.

When all was done, the dead bodies of the Pyke leaders lay scattered across the top of the sail barge. Thel looked down on the body of Sym Pyke. With the Pyke faction gone, the Sith aligned Xextos could now assume control. Styre rushed onto the top deck. The barge had been damaged, but it was still functioning. “We’ve taken care of the Pykes' supporters. We’re in control,” Styre informed Thel, barely able to conceal his relief. “Good work Styre. You will be a useful asset here.”

It had been a difficult journey to get here, since his work with Cyutadakyr. But now, finally, this particular spice running syndicate was under Sith control.

“Thank you, Zorya. And you O’bog. Your cooperation has been invaluable.”

END THREAD

@Aberforth