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OOM: Manufacturing Miracles Part 1
Jul. 1st, 2016 12:40 am(OOC: Some lines taken from canon)
It takes less than 24 hours to find the Krayts' base of operations and remove Saben's head. His underlings prove willing to serve her, providing manpower and protection that they will need to keep the project up and running. The material proceeds of that expedition go into manufacturing the Cure directly or are sold to provide credits for funding.
Ibani glances up at the building known as Strell House, named after Daegin Strell, who even almost a decade dead still has a reputation for the charity work he did in life.
"A good idea, snagging this place," Ibani says to Rylee.
"Thank you, my Lord," Rylee replies with a bright smile. "We should be able to start manufacturing doses tonight."
Ibani smiles at that. "Very good! Now, we just have to get the word out...."
**************************************************************************************************
It's been a week since they moved into Strell House, and their membership is growing almost exponentially. Most of their new members are people who have either been cured of the Rot or their families, but there are opportunists and other more pragmatic souls as well.
She sees an armored but helmet-less weequay enter and shakes her head. Seriously, does NO ONE besides herself wear head protection?
She strides toward the Weequay all aggressive cheerfulness. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Rylee and Destris herding her followers out of the room.
"There you are!" she calls out. "You're late!"
The words and the tone clearly put the Weequay off balance for a moment, and he scowls. "I'm not one of your lackeys, Prophet," he growls.
"Of course not," she replies cheerfully, still advancing toward him. "You're Gar-Nok, Paladius' right hand and hit man. I was expecting you to show up days ago."
Gar-Nok's expression suggests that he feels as though reality has gone off script. "There are still those on these streets who are loyal to my Master, Lord Paladius. And now it's time to destroy you like I destroyed all the others who foolishly challenged him!"
Ibani is just out of arms reach from Gar-Nok now. "It's just you, then? I think I'm actually insulted," she quips. "I mean, the last serious attempt on my life involved a Jedi and an entire squad of Republic special forces; one thug is a bit of a let-down, quality wise."
"Why, you....!" Gar-Nok's body convulses as the force lightning hits him. Ibani casually flicks the power switch on her lightsaber and the red blade takes his head off right above the neckline of his armor.
"Anticlimactic, just what I was aiming for," she announces with a pleased smirk. Then, a thought strikes her. Gar-Nok's death is her doing, on her ground, which makes the proper disposal of his body her responsibility. Kark it, funeral customs vary so widely in the galaxy, even within the same species, and it's not as if she can ask his preferences NOW. Imperial burial customs will just have to do.
"Rylee, I need you to sell Garnok's weapons and armor and use the proceeds to have his body cremated. The shelf in the entrance area we couldn't get to come out of the wall will do nicely for an internment spot, don't you think? Shelves look wrong when they've got nothing on them, so we'll be dealing with two problems at once." Ibani is quite pleased with herself for coming up with this, so she's surprised to feel and see Rylee's stunned surprise.
"You, you want to cremate the body of someone who was being paid to kill you, then put him on a shelf in your front hall?!"
"Yes, that's right," Ibani replies, perplexed at Rylee's perplexity. Even the least Imperial citizen would expect to be cremated and their ashes interred somewhere where they can be honored and remembered. Sith have historically taken things even farther, building temples to house the remains of particularly respected foes. Really, this plan is positively modest!
Rylee finally shakes her head. "Right. Sure, why not? If there's anything left over I'll put the credits in the slush fund." Then she wanders off muttering something about never understanding Sith....
It takes less than 24 hours to find the Krayts' base of operations and remove Saben's head. His underlings prove willing to serve her, providing manpower and protection that they will need to keep the project up and running. The material proceeds of that expedition go into manufacturing the Cure directly or are sold to provide credits for funding.
Ibani glances up at the building known as Strell House, named after Daegin Strell, who even almost a decade dead still has a reputation for the charity work he did in life.
"A good idea, snagging this place," Ibani says to Rylee.
"Thank you, my Lord," Rylee replies with a bright smile. "We should be able to start manufacturing doses tonight."
Ibani smiles at that. "Very good! Now, we just have to get the word out...."
**************************************************************************************************
It's been a week since they moved into Strell House, and their membership is growing almost exponentially. Most of their new members are people who have either been cured of the Rot or their families, but there are opportunists and other more pragmatic souls as well.
She sees an armored but helmet-less weequay enter and shakes her head. Seriously, does NO ONE besides herself wear head protection?
She strides toward the Weequay all aggressive cheerfulness. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Rylee and Destris herding her followers out of the room.
"There you are!" she calls out. "You're late!"
The words and the tone clearly put the Weequay off balance for a moment, and he scowls. "I'm not one of your lackeys, Prophet," he growls.
"Of course not," she replies cheerfully, still advancing toward him. "You're Gar-Nok, Paladius' right hand and hit man. I was expecting you to show up days ago."
Gar-Nok's expression suggests that he feels as though reality has gone off script. "There are still those on these streets who are loyal to my Master, Lord Paladius. And now it's time to destroy you like I destroyed all the others who foolishly challenged him!"
Ibani is just out of arms reach from Gar-Nok now. "It's just you, then? I think I'm actually insulted," she quips. "I mean, the last serious attempt on my life involved a Jedi and an entire squad of Republic special forces; one thug is a bit of a let-down, quality wise."
"Why, you....!" Gar-Nok's body convulses as the force lightning hits him. Ibani casually flicks the power switch on her lightsaber and the red blade takes his head off right above the neckline of his armor.
"Anticlimactic, just what I was aiming for," she announces with a pleased smirk. Then, a thought strikes her. Gar-Nok's death is her doing, on her ground, which makes the proper disposal of his body her responsibility. Kark it, funeral customs vary so widely in the galaxy, even within the same species, and it's not as if she can ask his preferences NOW. Imperial burial customs will just have to do.
"Rylee, I need you to sell Garnok's weapons and armor and use the proceeds to have his body cremated. The shelf in the entrance area we couldn't get to come out of the wall will do nicely for an internment spot, don't you think? Shelves look wrong when they've got nothing on them, so we'll be dealing with two problems at once." Ibani is quite pleased with herself for coming up with this, so she's surprised to feel and see Rylee's stunned surprise.
"You, you want to cremate the body of someone who was being paid to kill you, then put him on a shelf in your front hall?!"
"Yes, that's right," Ibani replies, perplexed at Rylee's perplexity. Even the least Imperial citizen would expect to be cremated and their ashes interred somewhere where they can be honored and remembered. Sith have historically taken things even farther, building temples to house the remains of particularly respected foes. Really, this plan is positively modest!
Rylee finally shakes her head. "Right. Sure, why not? If there's anything left over I'll put the credits in the slush fund." Then she wanders off muttering something about never understanding Sith....
