Log:Sith Empire: What's Yours Is Mine

Xavier has been searching for nearly a year now. Meticulous, patient, silent. Shifting events to his favour from the background. Arranging the board to play into his hands. Seeing to the destruction of an entire organization of professional thieves and scavengers. Burning their nests until they scurried home then following them to the bowels of a junkyard planet. Collapsing it in his wake; forever burying what remained. All to find the one person.

The one who possesses what is rightfully his.

Now the weight of the feared Sith Council and elite-trained Mark will fall upon this particular collector's head.

What's Yours Is Mine

OOC Date: August 23, 2022
Location: Western Sea, Muunilinst
Participants: Sith Empire: Xavier Harcourt (GM), Tamsin Cas, Tarq Najjic, Imani, Darth Ferren

-- Xavier --

It is a mansion even taking into account Muunilinst's high standards where anything short of twenty thousand square feet is considered a modest bungalow. Tucked on the coastline of Western Sea, the area surround the building is dominating by acres of pristine lawns, stone-carved fountains, and manicured gardens. Getting to the mansion itself required a cadre of Mark soldiers to clear the way and they did so with gusto. Now a small group of Sith linger just outside of the main building.

Xavier, true to form, is a man on a mission and this one in particular is nearing its end. A year now dedicated to tracking down the location of something he had lot has saw him hopping from planet to planet chasing leads and arranging the playing field. Now, donning the black robes of the Sith Council and his hood drawn up, Xavier snuffs out his cig under a boot and regards those with him.

"We're headed to the east wing. Loniz Tonith keeps a small museum there." 'Small' meaning it's at least two stories high with multiple rooms separated by which quadrant of the galaxy the procured items originated from. "But what we're after isn't there. Fortunately, before he died the contact we retrieved from Raxus Prime was very generous in the information he provided."

The screen of his way-too-old datapad flickers to life, highlighting his creased features in an unattractive shade of orange. The image shows them a map of the east wing before zooming in to a specifc room on the second story overlooking the water. He keeps his most treasured items here. "The office. No doubt Tonith enjoys to show off his most rare, expensive, ill-gotten trinkets and baubles." The datapad flickers off and is tucked away. "Expect guards on patrol. We'll get as close we can to the office without alerting them. If alerted, we cut a path."

-- Tamsin --

Had they had time, perhaps Tamsin might have visited her own home on the bans of the Western Sea, or perhaps returned to that dim and not quite dead research facility out on a remote island no so far, all things considered, from where they now stood. And perhaps, in the aftermath, there would still be time for that. Now, though, she did not concern herself with that. Rather, she waited in silence, her mask as inscrutable as ever, as she waited for the troopers to clear the way for their approach. "Very well. In and out as quickly and neatly as possible." That seemed a simple enough plan of attack. She did not bother to comment on the potential for violence. Much like affection, it always ended in violence.

-- Tarq --

Where had the Kuati been? Maybe Darth Ferren knows.

There are a few unmended holes in his velvet cape accompanying burn marks. His eyes have dark circles around them, emphasized rather than covered by dark makeup around his eyes and dusting his cheeks. His boots are still carefully polished, which can't hide the slight thinning of the soles.

Wherever he had been, he's here now. "Belongs in your hands. Tarq Najjic has no patience for Force dilettantes."

In his past life, Tarq was a thief, but he offers no professional insights as he stares at the map. This group has far more tools than a mundane second-story man. "Has /other/ relics or trinkets, too?" If you don't think about it too hard, this isn't that different from a typical mission with the Knights of Ren: seizing all artifacts.

-- Imani --

Imani is present and is as loaded with weapons as ever, knives, chain whip, vibro blades, if it cuts and is portable she is carrying it. "So," she asks, helmet off for the moment, tucked beneath one arm as they make their approach. "I hope this isn't too insensitive, but this is a a lot of effort to go for a weapon. Even one as amazing as the ones you all use. Can you not make another? Or is this sentimental?" She doesn't seem all that judgy with the question, this is a matter of curiosity rather than complaint.

-- Ferren --

A tall man looms over the gathering of councilors like a stormcloud, dressed all in black and with dark features of his own. The inevitable devolution to violence, personified, Darth Ferren listens passively to the mission description as Xavier lays it out, giving a short nod. "What cause we have to minimize damages aside, if it comes to that a few charges in the office will hide the particulars of who was there," he remarks curtly, ever practical when on task. They've seen him quite talkative in social environs and when words win wars. On the frontlines, it's traded for a stonier disposition.

He glances towards Imani at the question. "Whatever else it means for Harcourt, it's making a statement. Some things are sacred, and not meant for the unwashed masses."

-- Xavier --

"Of interest? Not that I am aware of." The answer goes to Tarq's question. "If he did, it's likely in the office, as well. Loniz Tonith is a member of the Banking Clan," Xavier adds on as if it were merely an afterthought. "One of the numerous lawyers. I'm sure his hoard is vast but mostly useless. A dilettante, as you say."

Xavier looks up at the impressive building to Ferren's question, a hand rubbing at his bearded jawline. "As much as I would like to get in, get what we came for, and then torch the place to the ground for the insult..." He doesn't finish that sentence. Perhaps he thinks he /shouldn't/ set the mansion on fire as it may complicate things with the Banking Clan. But he also hasn't made a decision if he is going to resist the urge. So the unfinished statement lingers in the air like a wet wampa, and Xavier offers a grin towards Imani. "A bit sentimental, to say the least. And I take its theft as a personal insult. So I answer in kind." Which whips right back to the idea of cleansing with fire.

It is the middle of the night and the front door is open. All the more evidence as the owner's mindset. Afterall, who would be so lofty; so brazen to show up to a Tonith Estate unannounced? That or he has placed a lot of unfounded trust into his guard. The group enter in, finding themselves at a large foyer; a giant chandelier hanging overhead and it's lights dimmed to a dull glow. Three carpeted hallways stretch to the west, east, and north. Twinned staircases arch wide up either side of the room leading to second-story balconies.

-- Tamsin --

Entry into the main building was managed easily enough, needing into a flick of the wrist to open the entry and step inside, Tamsin did just so, stepping to the side so as to allow the rest to follow. A lift of the mask as the area was considered, as the masked not a doctor at the moment made use of her senses as well as her sight. "Movement," beat pause, "Regular patrols, two a piece, on this floor and the ones above. I can feel them moving in set patterns. She lifted a foot, as if about to step forward, before she lifted a hand, "Look, down at the baseboards. Motion detectors along the paths of movement." Another beat. "We will need to step carefully."

-- Tarq -- "Carefully it is." Tarq sweeps up his cape to be tight against his side to make his silhouette smaller. Gauging the detectors after Tamsin points them out, he steps carefully over one, then over the next one, then tumbles forward. It looks for all the world that he's straight-up tripped. But he misses the last laser, rolls back to his feet, and glances sideways at the control panel. He narrows his eyes, and presses the appropriate button.

There's a small 'peee-ewww' in a descending tone as the lasers deactivate. That's not the sound from a device, though. Tarq is making the sounds with his lips, because there /should/ be a sound from turning something off.

-- Imani --

Imani listens to Ferren as he speaks, dark curls dancing as she nods readily in agreement. "That's true. Those do seem like the sorts of things that should not be in the hands of most people. I can appreciate wanting to recover something so dangerous from someone not suited to carry it." She looks over at Xavier, nodding at his answer as well. "If someone knowingly took it from you? I can see answering that sort of insult with force, and taking back what is yours. I don't have much that's sentimental, but there are a few things I might get touchy about if it was taken from me." There's a general cheer about the whole situation, as there so often is for Imani, just seeming pretty happy to be here with all of them.

With her line of inquiry settled, she plops the helmet back atop her head and gets ready for... she's not really sure what. This is the house of someone very rich, it could be anything. When others mention sensors and guards, she looks down at the floor but doesn't really see much. Rather than ask for clarification, she just watches carefully where others step and tries to follow.

-- Ferren --

There's a slight possibility that Ferren understands the mentality that has lead to the front door being left wide open.

As the others make arrangements for stealth to proceed, he sweeps in behind them as though he were returning home to this building after a long day at the office, heavy boots striking against the hard floor as he follows in the others' wake. He looks around at the lobby with scant interest, a judgmental spasm running across the bridge of his nose. He nods approvingly at Tarq as he catches up, even letting the 'pee-eew' slide. Maybe he assumed it was the panel itself.

-- Xavier --

Having memorized the floor plan, Xavier is keeping close to the front of the group, save for momentarily holding back to watch Tarq do his Tarq thing. Complete with sound effects. "Never change, Najjic." As if that was ever in danger. Moving with the collective, the older man is keeping himself close to the wall of the corridor, picturing in his mind the map of this place and trying to follow the leads accordingly. "I built it well over a century ago. Back when I had a different name, a different purpose. It has come with me through the decades. Changed as I have changed."

Xavier slows to a stop as they come across the first intersection. Another huge chandelier hangs above. That same warm, dim lighting casting shadows into the hallways from this center point. "We need... that way." He points to the left. "We just--" The words are cut off in his throat and Xavier pulls back to press against the wall.

"Did you hear something?" "Huh?"

The guards down the right-hand hallway, not used to anything of interest happening on their shift, turn back around towards the intersection and start walking over.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin, tipping her mask up, frowned, her voice coming across the internal comms the group shared. "The guards are moving this way." Tamsin, moving swiftly, stepped left and then right, at the two closest doors. The first was locked and quickly abandoned, but the second opened quiet as a feather, and she slipped inside. "This way, if we wish to wait them out." She neither expected, nor assumed anyone would follow after her, but the door was left ajar enough that any who wished to follow could do so. If nothing else, it gave those out of the corridor the element of surprise.

-- Tarq --

Tarq's eyes glaze over for a moment as his attention is elsewhere. "Sense them as well." He opens the door more, leaving it ajar for others to follow before ducking in and doing his best to disappear into the wall and behind furniture, but directly adjacent to the entrance, that he may close it behind the last in.

-- Imani --

If Imani is in a fight she can be incredibly graceful, moves of a trained professional with years under her belt level of skill, but apparently those skills don't quite align with the basic act of sneaking through a mansion quietly enough to not alert security. Is there artwork? Vases? Statues? At the very least she is bumping them, at the worst things are falling over and probably making more noise than is desired when trying to hide from security. The lesson here is she probably shouldn't go on heist capers. Even so, she tries to tuck into the space where Tarq and Tamsin are hiding, for all the good that will do now, to remain out of sight.

-- Ferren --

Ferren is not a man accustomed to hiding, but reading the crowd leads him to follow along amiably enough with the others. He steps casually inside the door Tamsin enters, his own senses informing him of the guards' locations. He checks his lightsaber's position on his belt as he settles in to wait for the guards to enter. "Nice enough spot to do this," he murmurs as he looks around the empty chamber and its furnishings, clearly picking out spots to stow the bodies afterward.

-- Xavier --

One by one the group shifts into the side room, which turns out to be one of many museum-esque rooms. This one is filled with pieces from the Northern Dependencies and the Hapes Cluster. Too dark inside to get a good look at the wares. Mostly statues, gems, and such. Not that it matters because while the group cannot be seen, they were certainly heard.

"Something's moving. Call for backup." "Don't be paranoid. I told you I saw a damn rat the other day, right?" "There ain't no rats here." "Then what do you suppose I saw?"

Boot steps get louder and louder until they stop in the center of where the two hallways meet. Silence... tension. When the guards speak, their voices are lower.

"That door open before?" "I dunno. Maybe?" "I don't think it was. Bryce. Lot. Get to the east wing main corrridor."

Two sets of bootfalls begin to cautiously approach the door. Xavier looks back to the others and raises a thick, black brow in wordless questioning of 'We doing this?'

-- Tamsin --

It was likely a good thing that no one could see Tamsin's expression, as she heard the guards approach and question whether the door had been open. But, she made no move to engage the guards at the door, though she shook a hand to free her fingers from the cuff of her robes. "If they are coming, let them come." Again, it was only a passing comment, and left to the others to do as they would. What would happen would happen, whether through her action or no. "If this goes ill, we will have to move quickly, fend off the guards while Xavier retrieves his property."

-- Tarq --

What is better than surprise? More surprise.

Tarq grimaces at the door being open but raise a hand. With a dramatic 'batting something down' gesture not unlike a cat on a table, there's a crash behind the guards. When he senses their attention shift, he smirks.

He sweeps his hand up towards the door with a raised eyebrow, looking at Xavier, Ferren, and Imani. The invitation is obvious.

-- Imani --

The jig is up. At least it is in Imani's mind. A slight turn of the helmet has her looking around at the others, shoulders gathering into a shrug before she pulls the weapon at her hip free. Snap, it goes from whip to sword, and then she's out the door and charging at one of the guards. This is an attack now, and so somehow she moves with more speed and grace now that violence is involved. She drives the point of the weapon into the back of one of the guards, yanking it back and then reeling back and swinging it around to bash into the side of his head. It's not a good day for that now dead guard.

-- Ferren --

As Imani springs into action, a picture of grace and sophistication now that death is on the line, Ferren steps forward with the same nonchalant attitude he's had since coming through the front door. He pulls the handle of his lightsaber forward, extending it unlit towards the other guard, pushing the activator so that the blade spears directly through the back of their head, deactivates it, and clips it back to his belt all in one movement.

The guard, who had had the foresight to recognize that the door had been disturbed, collapses in a heap as the dark lord turns back to face the group, looking down at the bodies. "It would appear we have created evidence."

-- Xavier --

The bust wobbles off of its pedastel and crashes into the ground, shattering loudly on the marbled floor where the long, luxurious carpet doesn't reach the edges. Both guards spin around in shock, drawing in sharp breaths. They aren't even afford much of a "What the--" when the first guard's head explodes the same as the bust had. The second guard gets a nice view of his partner's body slumping to the ground before a flash of red pierces his skull.

Xavier leans out of the room to observe the carnage with the same sympathy he would pay roadkill. "There will be more coming. We can leave a trail if they want. The office is this way." A flutter of robes and he starts running down the hallways. Stealth is no longer an issue though he does pass Tamsin a slight grin. "Maybe I should have just sent you in, mmm? Ah, but what's the fun in that." He pulls a sword from the black folds of his robe as there is shouting further down the hall behind them.

And ahead of them, five breathless guards cut them off. "Stop!" Has that ever worked?

-- Tamsin --

No silent as the grave which, quite likely, no one would bother to put any of these guards in, Tamsin swept out of the room, moving at best speed to keep abreast of both the team, and the sentients she could feel advancing on their location, setting herself up as a screen to try to gain the attention of the guards so that one or more of the guards would be distracted enough to allow Xavier to move past them, if he so chose. Grand sweeping gestures ensued, which did nothing to actually damage any of the guards, but were certainly attention-getting. One hoped.

-- Tarq --

When Tamsin leaves the Hiding Room, Tarq follows. He no longer has to hold his cape aside to avoid security systems or catching on priceless works of art. Now, their incidental destruction at the hands of high fashion is welcomed, even encouraged. He leans forward as his boots pound the carpet, not activating his lightsaber until he's parallel to the first trooper, at which point he pirouettes. The blade misses one trooper on his side of the hall but catches two others, carving them through at shoulder height without the slightest friction.

In the defense of these guards, no one had lightsabers out when they rounded the corner to see the Council. Maybe they wouldn't have said "Stop!" if they had.

-- Imani --

Well now they've done it, they've gone and made a mess, but Imani doesn't appear to feel all that bad about it. These are people guarding things for the person who stole the saber from someone in the Mark. Even if it happened before that, it still counts, and so she is merciless in cutting them down. Or trying to at least. The guards that issue the warning are eyed for a moment before she charges in, using the distraction of lightsabers to be a sort of shadow that she can lurk in until she emerges and swings her weapon. The first attack comes up short and only leaves a gouge in the wall -- whoops, murder and property damage -- but the second leaves a gouge in the guard. Better.

-- Ferren --

Now that any pretense of stealth has shattered on the floor, Ferren looks down the hallway towards the guards that have arrived to cut them off, a tall man draped in black stood over the corpses of two of their comrades and flanked on all sides by similarly imposing figures.

Really, it's a shame they have to kill these five; they have remarkable nerve.

He steps down the hallway after his Councilors with a businesslike pace, arriving only after the fighting has already begun in earnest. His saber lashes out with unfeeling precision, culling one from the herd, but the next eludes his reach. It doesn't seem to fluster the dark lord, though. He simply keeps moving forward, saber at the ready.

-- Xavier --

Xavier doesn't stop, per se. But he does slow his pace to a cautious jog. Face twisting into a grimace, he gives a glance to the others. Taking the advice from Tamsin, he nods; his grip on his sword hilt tightening "Hold them off. I won't be long." In a burst of speed and fluidity he has yet to showcase tonight, Xavier bolts forward towards the two remaining guards. A flash of his blade doesn't strike but instead keeps them at bay so that he can streak past them, boot pounding down the hallway and his form disappearing around the next corner.

Reinforcements are, indeed, on their way. Converging on this spot from nearby patrols. Severel more come storming into view from behind the group: well over a half a dozen with more voices behind them. For a man that keeps the front doors unlocked, Loniz has an awful lot of people in his employ.

"Halt!" They bellow, not knowing their comrades already tried that approach. "You are trespassing on private property! Lay down your weapons!" "Are you a kriffin' idiot, Bryce! Those are lightsabers!" "So? Boss has one, too. Doesn't mean drek. Do your jobs!"

-- Tamsin --

"Just go." Tamsin did not move to follow Xavier, instead remaining with the guards, leaving herself in the open for both the guards she was still facing and those coming up, now, behind her. Ah, well, one had to be the one to draw attention, and it might as well be the one who could heal the most rapidly of the group. Tamsin's saber was almost idle, swinging only once as she cut down one body. Just ignore the odd rumble in the building. Surely just a tremor from a deeply volcanic world, yes?

-- Tarq --

'Doesn't mean drek.'

The left half of Tarq's mouth curls up into a smirk. Guards who are well-paid /and/ wise. It's true; the lightsaber is so dangerous that it is practically suicide to use one without the Force or very extensive and specific combat training.

That some of these guards know that is a testament to the mansion resident's deep, deep pocketbooks.

---

When the new squad appears behind them, Tarq pivots on his heel and brings his hands apart after a brief twist, each holding a lightsaber. The second one hums to life as he stabs behind him, spitting a guard without looking, and thrusts forward at one of the new arrivals, creating a similar cut in that one's torso.

Right blade in a back grip and the left extended in front of him, he advances, knocking the barrel off a blaster before scything from the guard's right shoulder to his left thigh.

While Tamsin has seen him try this before, he's never fought this way in a fight that mattered. Unlike last time, it seems to be working swimmingly.

---

Unfortunately, this is that kind of one-in-a-billion chance that guard training just won't help with. No one pays enough to fight a group of Sith - it takes serious ideology.

-- Imani --

They are told to hold them off, and that's what Imani intends to do. "Can do!" she calls after the departing Sith, just about to take another step forward when she's hit in the leg by a blaster bolt. There is a burn right through the plates of the armor and into the flesh below, earning a hiss if pain. She isn't one to go down so easy, not allowing herself the luxury of languishing in the discomfort of her wound as she stalks ahead again. Swish goes the chain-whip, making contact with another of the poor foolish guards, hitting once, then twice, taking the man down. Hopefully he got paid well, or doesn't have a family, or if he does has good life insurance. Do they have that here? She has no idea. This is what happens when you guard stolen things for rich fools.

-- Ferren --

The only real shame here is that they might not encounter the employer of said high-end mansion staff. Darth Ferren steps idly to one side to let a blaster bolt sail past his head as he walks down the hallway towards the reinforcements. When he reaches them, he puts the further lie to their unconcern regarding the weapons this group of home invaders are wielding. A few moments later, three of them are dead and the Sith lord is standing there, unscathed and breathing just a little harder. "I'd love to meet the owner," he mutters as he turns towards the remaining guards. "This boss of yours. Is he home?" the question is asked as he approaches, weapon in hand, just a curious visitor.

-- Xavier --

Throughout the compound, an alarm starts to blare. All the lights flash on bright, illuminating what had once been cloaked in comforting lowlight. The smell of something burning penetrates the air, tingling at the nostrils followed by the distinct bite of smoke. The entire mansion is awake now and somewhere in another part of the building, the home's owner is likely being informed his livelihood is going up in flames. Also, his guards are being slaughtered

One of the guards looks over to Ferren with wide eyes, mouth agape. "They'd take him to the safehouse..." He starts to answer, but when his partner fires a shot, he does as well. Out of terrified habit.

Those who remain to defend the manor now have another problem on their hands. Not only are they dealing with some murdering intruders, but there is a fire spreading in the east wing. Knowing that the man that signs their paychecks keeps all of his most valuables there, it becomes imperative that they break through this line of defense in attempt to get to the office and stop the flames from consuming everything of monetary value.

More guards arrive: smarter than the last as they don't even bother telling the group to stand down. They are running down the hallway intending to break through with sheer force and dumb willpower.

-- Tamsin --

Tamsin was still in the hallway, looking for all of the world as though she neither was bothered by the blaster bolt that missed her widely, nor by the rising alarms and the flashing lights. And, after all, this was, generally speaking, the way all of these adventures ended. A sort of closing act fireworks, yes? "Xavier, do you have it?" Tamsin would wait until she received a rely from the man before she continued, "We should make our escape as quickly as possible." A step forward, as one of the guards avoided her swing, but she placed herself in the line of incoming fire. Blaster fire. But possibly real fire as well, because, well, house on fire.

-- Tarq --

The hallway is thick with guards, and each of Tarq's steps forward brings a plasma blade up through, across through, or down through a guard. Lightsaber blades have no weight; only the handles do. So his blades whip through the guards as quickly as malevolent intent can bring them.

"You could," he tells the survivors in a conversational tone, "run away."

-- Imani --

With the swing of her weapon, Imani injures yet another of the guards. How many is this now? She hasn't kept count, but it's enough. "They don't need to run away," she assures, the contrasting cheer, which definitely says something about her mental health and the sort of person she is, but she's here, so we all already knew that.

-- Ferren --

"The safehouse," Ferren repeats with savor, liking the sound of that. More like the Unsafe House. It's practically a challenge, just saying it. The blaster fire continues, then, and he continues as well, chopping down two more of the crew and missing a third with something akin to a wistful look in his eye, thinking about that safehouse. He steps over one of the corpses, his heavy cape trailing over the mangled frame, glancing down the halls. "If I were a safehouse, where would I be?"

-- Xavier --

From further into the east wing, the smell of smoke has grown stronger. The alarms still screeching throughout the compound, a haze begins to filter in. Through that haze is the steady tap tap tap of a measured, stalking gait. From the smoky fog comes a robed figure, hood drawn up and hand held out from his side.

For a man used to inhaling smoke for every waking minute of his life, he is hardly affected by the noxious fumes of the destruction he's leaving in his wake. "Indeed," his voice rumbles to answer Tamsin's question. But only after the walls further down shake a bit in attempt to help her bring it down. Alas, the Force is not strong enough to bring down good craftsmanship. But the growing fire certainly will.

In his right hand, the familiar snaphiss punctuates his confirmation; a beam of red light illuminating him along with the light of the others. He swings outwards to the nearest guard who has learned to avoid the crimson beams of death. No matter. Xavier rolls his shoulder, trying to get the rust from his joints, and grins. "The safehouse? Oh, I know where that is. My informant was so eager to give me all the details I asked for. How kind of him. Let's clean up here then pay the owner a visit."

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The long, rocky coast of the Western Sea of the planet Muunilinst is lined with expensive waterfront properties: most of them owned by afluent members of the Banking Clan. One home in particular that dominates a few acres of prime real estate became the subject of the day's news cycle. In the middle of the night, the mansion of Loriz Tonith was set upon in what authorities are now calling a calculated attack.

Local security responded to reports of a conflagration on the Tonith property just past three-thirty a.m. standard time. The blaze, inherently thought to be accidental, originated in the east wing before spreading throughout the lofty estate. The matter quickly turned into a a full-blown arson and murder investigation.

While a little under half of the mansion's structure survived the blaze, everyone inside was found dead. Many of them appeared to have suffocated and several had been crushed by toppled walls and floors. Still others sustained injuries that authorities would only describe as "poignantly aggressive", implying that the estate had been set upon by unknown assailants.

This fear was later confirmed when Loriz Tonith himself was found at another location on the property. His safehouse had been breeched directly through the front door; cut through by some implement. Mister Tonith and his personal guard were discovered within and was immediately declared dead by first responders. Again, authorities were sparing on the details, but they assured reporters skeptical of a lack of an initial coroner's report that the demise of Loriz Tonith was "unquestionable".

There is little evidence remaining on who attacked or why. Members of the Tonith family are demanding answers to this egregious assault as well as compensation from their insurers for the items of value destroyed in the fire and the life of Loriz himself.

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