The Monolith, Home of Clan Scholae Palatinae, has been decorated. The finest caterers on Seraph have been working the kitchens overtime. The bar is open. It's party time.
Thran, The Usurper, sits on his throne at the end of the ballroom. The Dais is raised above the rest of the party. He is attended by 12 of Scholae Palatinae's Praetorian Guard, 5 Additional Soldiers, and his normal retinue. Rayne and Kah'ri are present with him. They appear to be discussing something.
The party is lavish. No expense was spared. The floor is open.
Thran looks at Rayne and Kah'ri. “Our coffers are quite full with the spoils of war. We ought to discuss how to best reinvest that money into the Empire. Do you have any suggestions?”
Kah'ri stepped forward to be in better view of the new Emperor. “I take the fact that Hutts were able to infiltrate Imperial space very personally. My first recommendation is the expansion of ISB and Military operations on our neighboring systems for better oversight - Most notably here, here, and here,” the Firrerreo gesturing to items on a datapad.
“I’ve already seen to that matter personally. The Hutt presence in the Caperion System has been eliminated. But, your intuition in expanding the ISB is well placed. I’ve commissioned a new vessel. The Inquisitor Class. State of the art. Perhaps we can send her on a maiden voyage to the Crannix system. Things have been quiet and in the gap of power between Cordin Scythe and the Hutts, someone is sure to capitalize”
The Caperion system was…tolerable.
6 planets, 6 moons, single star, designation: Caperion, G-type, main sequence, 5,690 K, emitting a yellow-white light. There is a neatness to it that pleases.
Seraph, the “sole” habitable planet: assessment: fraking terrible.
Wildlife. Everywhere. There is a reserve. One ocean is named for the creatures the size of starships that resemble shelled cephalopods.
Horrible.
However: animals not present in the ballroom of Clan, designation: Scholae Palatine. More jediit in fine (debatable) clothing standing about. All of his intel is five years out of date. Every contact from the Cocytus system is gone. Intel required. But that is sub-mission. Primary mission is–
Red unblinking eyes flick down 13 cm and to the left, landing on the Mirialan female he has accompanied. The chosen outfit suits her. His was selected carefully to accent and match but not outdo; the black suit has a hint of bright red in the vestcoat and nowhere else. He wears gloves, and not a hint of skin shows aside from the 3 cm above the collar, where he physically cannot stand to have tight or stretched fabric.
No restraints.
The mask is a suggestion. There is no hiding him, any of him, and the entire profile of his head and headtails is too bulky. Better to highlight. Thus: a simple band of black across the nose, with tall triangular points above eyes, leading the gaze to the horns.
The Sagitta had been surprised initially at his request to accompany her. The surprise had lasted the 34 seconds it took him to sign over holocall his explanation.
If I’m dressing you, then I’m going. You’re representing this household. Have to make sure you don’t embarrass us.
Her indignation: amusing.
In the present, there is the gala. Foxen’s sanguine gaze raked every millimeter assessing for threats to either of them, exits, etc. He had to abandon all 30+ weapons, primarily knives, at the check. Insecure.
Yippie.
What first? he asked Sagitta.
Thran leans back slightly in his throne, he glances out over the crowd. He looks to <@169597761379893249> for a moment, before turning to Kah'ri. “We’ll see to expanding our capabilities. Alas, that must wait for tomorrow. Perhaps less immediately business focused topics are at hand. <@248607477015379987>, I am curious if there is anything here on Seraph which captures your curiosity.”
Kah’ri straightened his posture, holding his hands behind his back and looking toward the massive viewport behind the throne. His gaze set on the far off lights beginning to glisten over the expansive sea. “Azatra has my curiosity at the moment. When we came here, it was simply a small settlement. Now, it’s developing its own economy and it’s become a major landmark. I’m interested to see how it develops and what trade we invite to our system.” He said, staring off as if imagining something before turning to House Caliburnis’ Quaestor. “Lady <@169597761379893249>? Your thoughts?”
“It’s a symbiotic relationship, Kah'ri. The people of the Caption system are like the small fish that hang around the large predators. They get fat off the scraps and it benefits them to be near to us. We in turn benefit from their presence. Keep them fed well enough and they will pick out infections and parasites from the Empire. In time, they come to live to protect that which keeps them fed. It’s slightly more complex than that, but what metaphor ever gets it totally right? The point is…Never underestimate the loyalty of a person who’s table is full with a meal you’ve placed there. Azatra is a perfect example of that.”
“They built that city of their own accord, just to be near to us.” Thran added, as he beckoned over a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. He took a glass and sipped.
“If I may, <@248607477015379987> , share something that interests me.” Thran said between sips of bubbly.
The waiter turned to leave, pausing for a moment as one of the glasses lifted from his tray and floated to Kah'ri’s open hand. Kah'ri bore no ill-will, but the servant looked nervous, as if having just committed a crime.
“Please. You need not ask my permission, Emperor <@693983046197706842> .” Kah'ri replied, savoring a taste of the beverage.
“Have you any interest in history? The ancient type, long before our age.” Thran asked
“There is a matter which has confounded me. The Bronze Helix Observatory. Ancient location. Older than most of Seraph’s civilization. Yet, no record of it’s purpose or name of it’s inhabitants seem to exist in the historical records. It’s as if Seraph itself knew of this place of great power and obscured it from her own people. Do you know of this place?”
“I do not. It’s here on Seraph?”
“It is. I don’t truthfully know the precise location. But, I find it fascinating. I hear it’s quite the sight to behold. My people tell me it’s a large pit, filled with bronze mirrors. And at the bottom is a catacomb city…tell me, what do you make of that? Why don’t the people of Seraph celebrate this ancient marvel?” Thran postulated.
Elaine stood before the ballroom of the monolith wearing a lavish floor length dress. The dress was red with black tule over it. She had a black lace mask on that only covered the area around her eyes. The mask had a swirl and vine-like pattern to it.
This is where the fun begins she thought to herself as she entered the room.
Kah'ri considered for a moment, his intuition leading him to a conclusion he was not certain of.
“My lord, if I am to make any sort of conjecture, the only similar situation I have to compare is the buried history of Freedon Nadd on my home planet,” He said, shifting his weight to one side.
“If the situation is anything like it was on Onderon, there is a strong - erm… presence in the catacombs, that the Force obscures for good reason…” His voice trailed off.
A suspicious look washed over his face directed at the Usurper.
“…I have to give you everything?”
Zuza Lottson stood at the weapon exchange, sighing softly as she pulled her blaster off of her back, and then unclipped her lightsaber from its holster on her hip.
Once they’d confirmed that she had definitely not gotten any hidden knives on her, looking mildly irritated for some reason, Zuza lightly jogged the way to the entrance into the ball-room. It had been a long flight but as she looked up this was totally worth it.
And then she spotted a familiar pair.
“Foxen? Sofila?!” Zuza half yelled, excitement raising her volume past the respectful levels Cora had advised her on. She caught herself though, covering her mouth lightly before approaching the pair with a bright grin.
The Human was adorned in a pale green dress, silver rings joining the shirt to the bodice, the skirt bunched up and attached to the rings at the top, falling into a full skirt. A silver mask was tied over her eyes the only stand out from the outfit the golden Envoy charm necklace.
<@216702440140046336>
Rayne stood there dressed to the nines. A long silver dress with a slit up the right leg hugged her figure. The Firrerreo’s ivory skin glistened a golden color under the soft lighting. Her face partially obscured by a silver and rhinestone mask. They went all out for this event. Servers were busy, making sure refreshments were readily available to the guests at any time.
She joined the conversation between Kah'ri and Thran, but kept her answers light. She really didn’t want to spend the whole night talking about work, if she could help it. She wanted to forget the troubles that were to come for just one night. Thran most likely could sense her feelings.
“Guests are arriving,” she said quietly, sensing their presence.
“Do you believe in ghost stories, Kah'ri?” Thran smirked
Kah'ri’s suspicions morphed into a suppressed dread. “No. Please no.” He muttered, knowing full well Thran had sensed his hesitance.
“You’d be wise to. The Sith have a manner about them. We cling to life with such uncompromising passion, that some, well the powerful at least, chose to linger on even after death. But, I sense your intuition is a natural reaction, one made of body, not of mind. Curiosity lingers behind your fear, I am certain of it.”
‘Blast it, he’s right,’ the Quaestor thought to himself.
“What would you have me do, my lord?” Kah'ri said, stifling a sigh.
“My people tell me there’s a new person among our ranks. A treasure hunter. Seems to me that is exactly the type of person we would want for a preliminary investigation. He’s called Issamuel Kin'droth. Seek him out and offer him a job. Should compensation negotiations be required, bring him to me. I’ve been told I am quite convincing.” Thran smiled.
“Consider it done.” Kah'ri assured, relieved he wasn’t the one being assigned the mission. Pivoting on his heel, the Firrerreo turned to leave the throne.
Thinking about it now, he realized this is what it meant to be in his new role. Less getting dirty, more organizing. ‘Fine by me’ the Quaestor thought. He pulled out his datapad mid-stride to look for the new member. Why hadn’t he received the notification? He navigated personnel files until he found <@130115588906287106>.
“Ahh. Caliburnis. That’s why.” He reasoned to himself. “Oh! And a Mandalorian at that.”
This was going to be amusing.
The tall Mirialan huffed in anger when they found her hidden beskar dagger.
She was a Mandalorian, karkin damn it! She gave them the rest of her weapons, wasn’t that enough? And that dagger was a gift from her Buir.
“Fine. I better get it back.” She stepped into the ballroom and shook off the nerves. She saw Foxen’s sign and started to look around for Elaine, “Well-” And was cut off by a familiar voice.
“Zuza!?” Her head spun to find the voice and laughed when she saw Zuza and gave a hug before taking her hand and spun her around. “Look at you! You look beautiful!”
Thran turned to <@169597761379893249> , “Do you think I could get Kah'ri to Derrin status? You know…backflips on command?”
Her eyes shifted to <@693983046197706842> with a chuckle after sipping on her champagne flute. “If I’m honest, Kah'ri might have too many brain cells to compete with Derrin. Where is that guy anyway?”
“With Kevin, they’re probably digging for scraps in the rubbish bin…I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you.” Thran said.
Did I forget to tell you how pretty you are tonight?“ she lightly teased, before listening to what Thran had to say.
“Well, as a matter of fact, you did. And no that doesn’t count. I think the Empire is in need of a new director for the ISB. Someone with the mind for field work. Are you interested?” Thran asked
“That would be a dream come true, my Emperor.” she said slightly shocked. She had thought it over already many times, and now it seems was her opportunity. An Empire, is truly deadly when it is smart, not just through martial might.
Passing by, Elaine plucked a drink off of a servants tray, proceeding to the edge of the room to observe the people of the masquerade while she delighted in her beverage.
She was trying to spot anyone she might have known.
“Excellent. You will be my spy master then. It is settled.”
Foxen’s gaze clocked to the pair squealing at unoptimal decibel levels and regarded the Zuza’s garb critically while the Sagitta-others-called-Sofila twirled her in barely passable fashion for such a maneuver.
His hmm was a soundless thing, but he inclined his head. It was a good outfit. Inferior fabrics quality to the ones they wore, of course, but the color and cut were evocative and ebullient; definitely a summer collection piece, not autumn, but such considerations held exponentially less sway the greater distance one achieved from the Core and its capitol when planetary seasons varied so greatly.
Whether or not it fit the Zuza: undetermined. Despite her current hypersonic volume and inventoried cheer, their single interaction had comprised her watching him watching her/her hound and watching him have a post traumatic stress episode of significant proportions and then attempt socialization during. She had been clearly cognizant of her blade at all times, and made no welcoming overtures as the Karran did.
An intelligent decision.
Presently, he signed, with supposition for the spelling, hello, Z-U-Z-Z-A. Yes/no? And then, more to the Sagitta: Describe target, E-L-A-I-N-E.
<@216702440140046336> <@432543120635461643>
Zuza returned the hug from Sofila with vigour, laughing as she was spun so quickly after but the footwork of swordsplay wasn’t so different that she couldn’t maintain her balance in such a movement.
“So do you! I didn’t know you were coming, and Foxen too! Good to see you again.”
It was really was, he seemed better than before though that was a low bar to hold anyone too. She performed a small curtesy to the Nautalon, glad she’d bothered to practise with Cora originally a year or.. however long it was ago now. It seemed to come in handy, even for fun.
Sofila helped with translating what he said.
“Almost, it’s Z. U. Z. A.”
Foxen’s pierced brows elevated 2 mm at the curtsey and sentiment of good to see you again. Doubt it. But she is saying so.
Z-U-Z-A, he repeated, demonstrating correction. Likewise. You wear that well.
“Thank you, I could say the same. The red is a good match with your eyes, really pops.” She gave a thumbs up, turning away somewhat to look out on the room.
It was damn busy.
The scream of the young woman echoed through the alleyway just outside of the Monolith but none took notice. Muggings and attacks were not uncommon in the city and most were more afraid of catching a stray blaster bolt than worried about helping a stranger.
The woman started to scream again from the pain but was quickly silenced once she looked into the abyssal black eyes of the creature in front of her. He looked like a man but even this poor girl could see the devil in him. She became mesmerized as she stared into those two black holes. Two demonic tendrils had begun to snake up her nostrils and she could feel them moving inside of her skull. Pain wracked her body as the creature drank. Her vision blurred and began to grow black as her last whispered word of “Please.” Escaped her lips.
The creature dropped his victims lifeless body in a heap on the ground as he growled in satisfaction. Ecstasy flowed through him and his senses heightened. There were few things in this galaxy as satisfying as a good soup. The man turned and strolled away from the body towards the Monolith’s entrance.
The turbolift doors opened to the entrance of the ballroom and the man checked his lightsaber and dagger with the droids. His eyes had returned to their deep blue color and they surveyed the ballroom. A smile crept across his lips as he placed the white operatic mask on his face. “Party time.” Sykes said with a grin before making his way towards the bar.
Confirm, Foxen replied. It did in fact match his eyes. Reds and blacks were practically plain on him for how base the matching was, but effective was effective, even if he had dressed today to match the Sagitta, more than himself. Big room of potential unknowns and hostiles, enemy powers. Extend same offer to your as to Sagitta: signal if assistance required. I will be watching. Signal looks like, he waited for translation before demonstrating the Erinos Clan’s hand sign for danger. Twice, carefully, to be sure.
Zuza nodded slowly, doing her best to commit to memory as she repeated the hand signal back to him, waiting for confirmation it was correct before grinning.
“I’ll catch you both later!”
The short Human swept into the crowd, careful to avoid anyone not looking where they were going though for once she was hard to miss. The green gown was a blip of light amongst a swarm of darkened colours.
She walked toward the throne, admittedly a touch nervous but firm in her idea. Itd be easier to be on good terms with other clans if they actually knew who the kriff they were talking to. And if nothing else, they were just people.
People with a lot of guards. Zuza approached the dias, hesitating enough to see if she’d be prevented from ascending the steps without just rushing ahead.
Sykes approached the bar and ordered a whiskey as he lit a cigarette. He turned to the crowd to get a gauge of the crowd. He recognized several people of other Clans from the last formal event he had attended. He took note of Thran on the throne and shook his head. Ill be sure to end him one day. he thought. He had never liked the man but had respected him for his cunning. His eyes scanned around and fell on Elaine. “Ah. Ofcourse you’re here.” He muttered to himself and began to make his way towards her. <@971875986654257162>
Evio entered the ballroom wearing his armor, the metal elements of his Mandalorian T-visor embellished with gems and a few minimalistic baubles in the spirit of the event. Sticking to the edges of the room he settled in against a pillar and began to scan the crowds and make note of those in attendance. He had come to Seraph just the night before to investigate the home of his former benefactor. Or current benefactor. Who knows if I’ll ever see Grand Master Nehalem again but he certainly had a soft spot for this place.
There wasn’t one person in the room he trusted, and the gaudy Imperialistic nature of everything he passed since he set foot on the planet made his stomach churn. It made him realize exactly why the Sith Lord loved this place. The music, dress and decor dripped with vanity.
Yet his cousin Idris had advised him that Darth Nehalem would not return and a new Grand Master will fill the power vacuum in his place, and that he should move on look past all that and seek opportunity in his former Clan. Somewhere beneath all the pomp and circumstance was definitely opportunity. He just had to find a way to exploit it.
The Guards move to intercept Zuza, but are immediately stopped by Thran’s staying hand. Of all the people that would be at his Coronation ball, a hand full of Arconans was very low on his list of expected guests. The guards halted in place as Thran whispered to Rayne.
“This ought to be interesting.”
Subsequently, he turned to the guards. “Allow her through.”.
Thran sat back in his throne, awaiting Zuza’s approach.
She took a sip of her drink while continuing to observe the people around her. She had sensed her master’s presence when he first arrived. It was a presence she would never be able to forget. It invoked fear into the very depths of her being.
She turned towards Sykes and gave him a small bow. “Good evening master, I trust you are enjoying the party?” She spoke to the Anzat.
Sykes nodded and used his hand to both take a puff of his smoke and a sip of his drink. He looked Elaine over and smiled. “Of course I am. A wonderful dress you wore tonight, fitting of our Culture.” He smiled. Their outfits perfectly matched. “I see you have taken to my style since you joined us. It’s wonderful to see. The Empire is graced with your beauty.” Sykes gave an exaggerated bow to the Lady. “You have done well in the most recent War. I am thrilled that you have survived it. Would have hated to waste the training so quickly.” Sykes smiled at his apprentice. “What do you think of our new Emperor?”
“Your words are very flattering,” Elaine smiled. “I never thought I see you in such a suit. It looks nice. Very fitting.”
She took another sip of her drink, turning to look at the clans newfound Emperor. “I believe he will be good for the clan though the job will most certainly not be an easy one,” she replied. “If he’s not careful, he will lose that throne faster than he gained it. Though I do not believe that to happen.” She was insinuating that someone would dare try to take the life of the emperor after such a sudden switch of leaders.
Zuza thanked the guards but didn’t wait for the likely lack of response that that’d recieve. She climbed the steps, stopping once she reached the top and remembering this was one of those times where she really ought to curtesy.
With the formality done, she smiled at the pair in front of, nodding first to Thran and then Rayne. “It’s good to meet you, both of you.” Zuza glanced behind her, amusement rising in her expression, “That’s gotta be a lot of stairs to go up every time you want to sit down.”
“Thank you. It’s not often I get to dress up but I do enjoy a good soirée.” Sykes smiled to his apprentice and took a drag of his smoke. “Thran does seem the type to lose it quickly. But he has multiple supporters. He is a fool on the outside but I have known him to be quite cunning. I’m interested of the next assignment the Throne will require of me. My most recent research after the war has unearthed some interesting material. Crystals that could potentially allow one to ‘shift matter’. I’m quite curious of what will happen to those that were able to keep some of these crystals.”
Elaine was intrigued by such a notion of power. She looked at her master once again, “I did not know such a crystal existed. It makes me wonder kind of side effects it might have on it’s holder.”
“As do I. It would seem our Former Emperor came into possession of one. I feel a need to study it’s properties.” Sykes smiled again at his apprentice and scanned the room again, wary of any threat. “You could join me on my upcoming expedition, assuming the Throne has nothing more for me. However I highly doubt it. Thran wants me for my combat skills not my research.”
“I would also like to learn more about this gem. That being said, I would be delighted to accompany you on your next journey if that is alright.” Elaine replied to her master and smiled.
From amidst the crowd – position purposefully chosen and constantly shifting minutely in order to maintain sightlines on both charges/keep back towards wall/observe threats – Foxen watched unblinking as the Zuza was allowed past guard and up steps to fashion a curtsey. When a waiter passed with tray of drinks, he selected the heaviest, but did not consume.
11.2 m distance, variable angle to each target on dias, projectile of suitable heft. Glass shattering, when thrown if necessary, would cause minor distraction. And, if they were jediit – likelihood 9000%, assume default – then thinking loudly about dismemberment to their persons would also, possibly, cause distraction/possible avenue of escape for the Human.
Sykes nodded curtly. “I’m very curious if these gems exist outside of the Brotherhood system. I’m considering enter New Republic space to search for them.” Sykes took a sip of his whiskey. “They may be beneficial to the Empire and the Brotherhood as a whole. We don’t truly understand the technology of the Children of Mortis. More research will be needed.”
Elaine raised an eyebrow and smirked ever so slightly. “New Republic space, eh? Sounds fun,” she chuckled.
“What planet would be starting your expedition on?” she asked.
Ellac looked down at the mask in his hand as the turbo lift slowed to a halt, turning the silvery piece of his outfit in silent consideration.
Stepping to the door of the ball room, he slipped the mask over the mangled left side of his face, leaving only the unscathed half uncovered. With a quick once-over his suit, Ellac nodded slightly at the guards standing watch on either side of the door as he made his way inside.
“That’s the hard part. I could start here in the Caparion system but I feel like the old Antei system may hold a clue to this. We will see. The Aura Academy should give me a few clues.”
Sykes’ internal senses immediately registered his other apprentice. A smirk came upon his lips as his looked towards the entrance and saw Ellac. My what a family gathering we shall have.
Cade was late, fashionable too late he would say. He went into a room full of people, happy people, too happy people for his liking. He assessed the crowd. A small cluster of new sycophants had formed around Thran, the new emperor. A few people were having conversations at the buffet, a few busybodies were already dancing. To his right he spied a very well-equipped bar. He made his way recklessly through the dance floor and sat down at the bar. “One Bottle of Dark Blue Milk! On the Rocks!” He shouted angrily to the bartender, who in turn served him the drink with an indignant snort. Cade took a generous sip of the drink and watched the crowd for familiar faces.
The aroma of toilettes and fragrant perfumes filled Ellac’s nose as he looked out among the gathering come to pay homage to the Empire’s newest figurehead. Even from the door, Ellac could see Thran lounging into his throne, but unlike most ceremonies he had seen the newly promoted Consul attend, Thran was being thoroughly attentive to the happenings of the room.
A tingle along his spine pulled his attention away from the former Vizier, tugging his focus to the side of the room near the bar. He didn’t even need to look to know what drew on his mind so intensely; Sykes.
Teeth clenched, Ellac turned to meet his master’s smirk, noticing too the woman who was with him…
“Damn,” he muttered, his eye locking with Elaine’s for a moment. He should have known she’d be here, despite his hope that she would be otherwise preoccupied… But Sykes’ claws had already sunk too deep. She was here, whether he liked it or not, and the sooner he swallowed that particular pill, the better.
Sykes’ eyes met Ellacs and he nodded slightly. Turning to Elaine he smiled. “It would seem you have family here.” Sykes reveled in Ellacs discomfort. He could feel the anger welling up inside of his old apprentice.
Her eyes lingered on Ellac with an immense hatred flowing through her as a result of seeing the repulsive man she is burden with by calling him her brother.
“It would appear so.” She smiled slightly as the anger writhed within her. She did not try to deny her feelings because she knew it would be pointless. No matter what she did, she could not hide it from Ellac or Sykes. All she tried to do was mask it for the sake of the ball.
She gave a welcoming curtsy to Ellac, inviting him over knowing he was coming anyway.
“Perhaps it is not so bad, given the comfort of the chair. And, who, pray tell…might you be?” Thran rolled his fingers on the arm of the Throne.
“Zuza Lottson. Battleteam leader of Arcona’s Selen Training Corp and lady of the Dajorran Commonwealth.”
She wondered if they’d know of the Dajorran Intelligence Agency, of any details of her position as Director over it but knew better than to bring the topic up. Publicity wasn’t typically the thing of such… things. Wow Zuza.
Issamuel paced slowly outside the entrance to the Masquerade. Fighting off pirates? Triggering a trap to get an ancient relic or dodge a pitfall? He’d take that any day than having to dress up and put on a show for people he didnt even know. He wore a tailored white suit with blue accent throughout, the handkerchief, tie, and vest were a deep royal blue, offset by the white collared shirt and black buttons. It looked new, though he’d owned it for a few years, but had never had the chance or need to wear it. He thought to himself, karrabast, at least this still fit.
He took a deep breath and proceeded to the weapons check table. He had brought his lightsaber, just in case, as well as a hidden blaster. He dropped off his little droid partner he’d recently accquired that was an ascendant drone. He looked at the droid, “now you protect these, they’re my life. Got that?” He pssed them over to the personnel and took a claim ticket.
They checked him once for more hidden weapons, he was a mandalorian after all, and weapons were their religion. However, Issamuel knew when to play nice, and he didn’t try to smuggle any in. He was too new to create waves, and he needed to make a good first impression. He’d heard all about the empire, but now it was time to see for himself what they were made of.
He glanced in the mirror once more and adjusted the stark white Lothcat mask that fit over his t-shaped visor. The mask fit snuggly over the blue and silver helmet, but didn’t hinder his view. He stepped through the door once he felt the mask was secure and was bombarded with the amount of people and different conversations all happening at once. He weaved around people and headed to the bar. If he was going to put on his new welcome face, he’d do it with a drink at least.
“Greetings, Zuza of Arcona. I am Lady Rayne, Quaestor of Caliburnus. Thank you for coming.” Rayne spoke professionally to the human. She would play the diplomat for now. She remembered when their Clans were bitter rivals. The times, it seems, has changed.
Evio watched the interaction between Rayne and Zuza with a heightened interest. The two stood out among the superficial chatter and posturing, even in a room that was setup to highlight an important rising Emperor figure in Thran. He recognized them both and understood their respective roles in keeping their Clans safe. Something he knew all to well that the Brotherhood’s own Inquisitorious could not be trusted to do.
After I helped ensure their success, then they took all the credit, while I took all the credits. Worthless spooks hiding their ineptitude behind need to know.
If there was anyone in attendance who could make the most use of his particular services. He figured it was one of them. A networking opportunity he would be wise to take advantage of. Yet just being seen at the event might be enough to setup an opening later so he hesitated to approach.
He hardly thrived in such environments. His hand met his hip where his blaster usually was, adding to his discomfort.
“It’s great to be here. I haven’t been in the system much before, just passing through, so thank you for making this an open invitation. I just hope it’s all gone smoothly for ya’s, considering the war and all. It’s been busy.”
Her smile was genuine, gaze passing between both Rayne and Thran, though primarily focussing on the Quaestor with her being who responded.
Kah'ri sat at the bar reviewing <@130115588906287106>‘s dossier through the morai-shaped mask he wore. His attention was focused on his task, which had become a more common behavior since taking his office. Despite this, the drama that had begun to unfold around <@800517155389046794> and his apprentices had garnered enough attention from the Quaestor to have him look up from his datapad.
“Oh, fun.” He muttered under the mask.
He began to leave, wanting to have no part in it, when a Mandalorian strolled up near him at the bar to order a drink.
Hold on… He thought to himself. Kah'ri glanced at his datapad to confirm his suspicions.
“Yup. No mistaking that hair. You must be Issamuel.” Kah'ri said, sitting back down. He placed an engraved coin on the bar, to which the bartender gave a nod and began mixing multiple alcohols together.
“My name is Kah'ri Marru. I’m one of the leaders here in Scholae Palatinae. Your file is an interesting read, my friend.” Kah'ri said quizzically.
The bartender finished a pair of orange drinks and served them up for the Firrerreo and Mandalorian.
“Allow me to welcome you to the Clan with a lightened version of one of our traditions…”
Kah'ri pulled a lighter from his inside pocket and lit the top of his glass. A conical blue flame erupted from the drink, changing the beverage’s color to an indigo shade, before dying out.
“Ah, the Hutt Horizon - but with a certain depositional flair,” The Firrerreo lifted his mask to take a sip. “Appropriate, I think.”
Whoops! Sofila had gotten distracted by some of the drinks and badgering the poor servers to what kind of drinks they were. When she had finally found one, she grabbed the drink and before she can thank them, they were gone. Sofila shrugged and turned to glance at Foxen.
“So, Elaine is really pretty. Prettier than me! One azure eye and the other is a pretty jade color eye. She has darker skin for a human. Um.” She tried to think what else she remembered about Elaine. Her eyes scanned the floor as if she was expecting to see Calle. “Oh, she has brown ha-” She stopped when she glanced over at Zuza who was talking to the guy at the throne. Oooh, that must be Emperor Thran. Foxen had made her study the faces before they got here. Even drilled her and quizzed her.
Something something about not being an embarrassment something.
“S-should we go up there and greet too?” Sofila whispered towards Foxen, unsure of the customs.
Foxen noted the physical description, discarding subjective self depreciation: Human female, green and blue heterochromia, dark skin, brown hair. That left out some details, but would be workable.
Deny, Foxen replied silently. Z-U-Z-A is figurehead. Politicking. Advantage: the enemy remembers her. The less we are noticed, and the less they know about us, greater our advantage. Never give enemy information unless advantageous to do so. Example: may not even know you are Arcona, the sign for the Clan mimicked, roughly, the shape of its crest, thumbs and forefinger making a round shape, hands turned downward, and so you may move more freely, hear more, be told things would not be otherwise. Alternative possibility: they assume both of us are Arcona merely by presence with Z-U-Z-A. No point correcting them if this notion. Would not be believed. Either way, more efficient for me to remain distant. Easier to perform guard duty. Not original intent. However: observe the room. The faces, how the bodies move, the style/color of dress, mood of environment itself, decor. All tell things. Hostility, suspicion, and trying too hard to be menacing and hedonistic, clear. Not just towards Z-U-Z-A. Also towards each other.
He pointed at one trio at the bar.
Those two. Hostile postures towards each other. But deferential/fearful of the third, there, who holds self like predator. It’s an animal hierarchy. Pecking order. They defer, but competing with each other, possibly for his favor. This is all supposition. But it is supposition backed by observation.
All the while his hands moved slowly for her comprehension, those unblinking red eyes watched the room and the dias and the guests. The Sagitta had not asked for lessons in reconnaissance and intel gathering, so he wasn’t entirely certain why he was explaining at all. Incorrect association of mentorship from their other training.
Apologies. Question already answered. Lecture not consented.
Issamuel took a seat at the bar and settled into the stool. He looked down from the coin to the orange mixed drink, gingerly picked it up in his hand and gave it a sniff, “smells wonderful, my thanks.” He tipped his head towards the Firrerreo.
“It is nice to be welcomed to the clan, especially on such an auspicious occasion. I imagine that there are a surmountable people here tonight, let alone those that don’t get to see each other often,” he inclined to the group that seemed to be yelling loudly in admiration and hello.
He watched as Kah'ri lit the top of his drink, and raised an eye brow, “Now that’s a fun trick. Does it change the taste of the drink or just a fun show?”
“So, what can I do for you…Sir?” he added the last bit, unsure on protocol here. He started to tap each finger in succession, first on the outside on the fingerprint side, then the middle, and then the opposite, moved to the tips and repeated it, finally doing the last on the fingernail, fidgeting slightly.
Sofila started to zone out fast. Then when he gestured to a trio, she looked over and gasped. “There’s - Oh.” She almost interrupt but decided to wait. She practically started to lean from one foot to the other, in sheer attempt to contain her excitement.
“Oh! It’s okay!” Sofila started. He apologized. She had NO idea why because she got lost a long time ago in a far far away space.
“I see Elaine! So I’m going to say hi, you don’t have to come over.” Sofila grinned and gave Foxen two thumbs over as she made her way over to the trio.
Oh wait, they look serious. Mission abort! Mission abort! Sofila swirled as a server walked by her and she grabbed a glass of… something and took a sip, in attempt to make herself look busy.
“Pretty well.” Zuza started, thinking for a moment before she continued, “We’ve had our issues but we’re making work to properly get rid of ‘em. It’s hard when kist seems to come out of the void randomly every year or so but maybe we’ll have more time.”
She chuckled lightly before taking a slight step back, fiddling with the fabric of skirt, “I just wanted to say hello, properly. We have enough enemies, all of us. It’s better to have friends.”
“Indeed, Zuza. Please enjoy yourself tonight.” Rayne gave a light nod, lightly swirling her champagne in her glass.
It only took 2.01 seconds for Foxen to realize the real extent of his error. Now that he wasn’t partially concentrating on slowing his hands down while observing/assessing, he could see in the memory that the Sagitta had lost look of active thinking, light dimming behind her eyes like when Minnow fell asleep as a baby, only moments into his explanation. The excited and contained energy of her shifting. Distraction, lack of attention, desire to be elsewhere.
You don’t have to come over!
Now why did that feel more like a slap in the face than what was, logically, given her previous attempts to respect his boundaries, 78% likely to be consideration in attempt at dismissing him from social efforts.
Still.
It reminds the self of memory files from a decade ago, Minnow’s little school friends occupying more of her interest than their previous habits, and a general disassociation as those friends displayed fearful prey behaviors if he was in the room. He had made certain to remove himself after providing food/hydration/rules for the house when they were over for the sleepovers.
The sensation is about 49% similar now as he watches the Mirialan female run off without taking in one word he said.
Ugh. Imprintation.
Deny.
Foxen kicked that bit of baby ducklings bullshit down and stomped on it. With the sensation eliminated, he resumed providing extra eyes for the Zuza and the dumbass Mirialan doing an about face instead of ‘going to go say hi.’
The Zuza fiddles with her skirt. The female on the dias speaks, and the definitely category: asshat sitting in the throne (because throne sitting makes automatic asshats) continues to make looming/leaning/tapping motions of social manipulation. The other male up there does the same.
It’s a fraking haberdashery.
Zuza smiled, giving a slight wave before making her way back down from the dias and into the crowd once more.
That had felt tense for some reason but it went well! Good. Now time to indulge a bit in the drinks and just hang out.
Perfunctorily weaving through the crowd of masked figures, Ellac approached his old master and his newest protégé with curt but not uncourteous cast.
“Sykes. I half expected you to show up clad in armor,” Ellac said to the man, noticing Sykes’ suit that mirrored his own style. “Elaine.” He said with a simple nod, barely sparing her any attention.
Watching the Human descend into a taller crowd, Foxen adjusted his position, discarding tumbler as he went, and found an acceptable large pillar to keep his back to. There he stationed himself to survey the two actual Arconans.
At least only one of them, to his knowledge, had ever thought foam shoes with holes wasn’t a crime against sapience.
Finishing a hefty swig, Kah’ri set the glass down and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. The blue drink flowed over Kah’ri’s throat, warming his insides. “It does make the burn a bit more… up to my liking,” The man said pleasantly.
“Pretty parlor tricks aside, there is something you can do for me. More precisely, for the Empire.”
Kah’ri touched several buttons on his datapad and presented Issamuel with his own dossier. “From what I gather, you are an adept treasure hunter. The Empire has need of these skills and is willing to compensate you handsomely.” Kah’ri spoke as if withholding juicy information. “Does this interest you?”
“Ellac. Nice suit.” She replied short and curtly. She was not thrilled will her brother’s arrival at the ball, in fact, it now meant that she was standing next to the two people she hated the most.
Just calm down. If you make a scene it will not be pleasant. They won’t make a move so neither shall I. She rambled to herself in her mind.
“Oh? Well then I’ll have to give it a try” he tipped the drink to the bartender and waited for the flame to ignite.
“I am at the behest of the empire,” he said aloud, and to himself, “it is the most surefire way to fund ways to find more artifacts after all.”
The words from Kah'ri flew into his ears and he shook his head softly, “Oh yes, that definitely interests me, what seems to be the area and information of the artifact? Would this be handled directly to our new Emperor or someone else that we are….procuring this for?” He set his drink down and ignored the clammoring of guests around them, taking in all the information on the data pad.
Zuza passed through thr crowd easily enough, acquiring a flute of some wine or another along the way. Foxen was leaning against a pillar as was.. someone else. On the other side of the same pillar.
Interesting.
She waved to the Nautalon as she passed but was intent on her new target.
The Human appeared beside him, wishing she had pockets to put her hands in but clasping them behind her back instead.
“Nice evening huh?”
Sykes nodded slightly. “Armor is for combat, Young One. One must dress to impress at times. A party is for making allies and deals.”
Sykes could feel the anonymity between his two apprentices and relished in it. “Learn to control yourselves. You can kill each other on another day. Or can help me kill Thran. Either works but tonight isn’t the night for it.”
Elaine sighed for she knew her master was right. She finished off her drink then looked at Sykes. “You are correct as usual.” She replied to the Elder, turning to look at Ellac. “Forgive me brother. I was out of turn to start the evening off with such bad manners.” She bowed her head to him then lifted it just as swiftly.
The party was in full swing when the latest masked stranger arrived at the Monolith. Wearing a full face golden mask of intricate metal lace, a long-tail coat and slacks that had the most elaborate golden thread work that could have been purchased within the Galactic core systems. It simmered in the lighting of the ball and appeared to glow like molten medal.
With a wave of dismissal he refused the offered libations of the servers and made his way to the queue to congratulate the new Emperor on his ascention.
They arrived without fanfare, The quiet black armor of the Guard filing off to the side, standing at the proscribed positions as tradition dictated. Socorra entered first, her dress the color of a summer sea, tailored tightly to her form with a train of flowing silk, frothing white like the tides following in her wake. Waves of dark hair with a shock of white cascaded around skin tanned from many generations under the desert sun. A few steps behind, he followed, the light catching threads that stitched elaborate arcane symbols into the dark robes of the Lord of the Krath. His herald let a wry smile creep up her face as she felt the Force tremor from his presence, several sets of eyes pitching their direction. She straightened her back for a moment as she announced him, all but under her breath.
“Darth Ashen.”
He stopped, standing there for a moment, black eyes gliding across the hall, the accumulated figures there, chatting in small groups, the throne of the Imperial Clan on the far side of the hall, an old familiar face lounging in it, regarding the long line of those who had come to either bend the knee or beg favor, with few exceptions. Muz levied a glance, his mind wrapping around the Force.
You’ve come a long way. The words were silent, except for the new Emperor. For him, they echoed inside his head in a way that he had almost forgotten. Well done.
A nod answered the Zuza in passing. The ears catalogued her words on the other side of the pillar. Speaking to herself? Or another lurker?
Red eyes clocked to the doors, detecting movement/shift of air pressure with opening/multiple sets of footsteps.
Guards. Sycophants. One of them recognized. His own current alor'ad. And also: the former Grand Master of the Brotherhood, in whose wars this body and others of his and Socorra’s Mandalorian Clan had died in or lived through.
A lion in the den.
Too bad the den was already full of snapping, slavering animals. That one was just bigger. A rancor next to a reek.
Both: terrible.
At some point, greater orders of magnitude simply lost significance.
Still. He had suffered first hand the sheer stupidity the Sagitta could display. She would try to hug a rancor. And shield it from bullets.
Best to not let that happen– What.
The hell was she doing.
The Mirialan was still standing in the same spot, affecting some sort of ‘look busy’ manner if he had to guess, instead of going to confront the friend Elaine. Why? Or why not simply step aside instead of loitering in the middle of the floor?
He pulled out his pad and messaged the Sagitta.
🦈: Stop flailing and get over here.
<@216702440140046336>
“Oh kark- bloody suns-” Sofila grimaced as a long ping went off. She forgot to put her datapad on silence. Her hands quickly went looking for pockets.
“Sorry!” She said to anyone that may or may not be staring at her, “It has pockets!” She had excited tone in her voice as she managed to get the bloody datapad. Sofila held it with one hand as she blinked at the one who sent her the message. Foxen?
Then she read the message. Her face scrunched up. She wasn’t- whatever. The Mirialan made her way over to Foxen while putting the datapad back into her pocket and grabbed another random drink from the tray, both of her hands now full.
“I wasn’t flailing,” pouted Sofila as she handed the new drink towards Foxen. “I don’t know if you drink but I got you this!”
Deny, he said, and then, hand from chin, thank you. Would take for appearances, but easier to talk if not holding. Then the Nautolan tilted his head, birdlike. Why didn’t you talk to her?
“Ja’fri. If you would, please.” Kah’ri said, nodding his drink toward <@130115588906287106>’s. The bartender’s hand shot out to his side, seemingly conjuring a snazzy-looking lighter out of thin air. He was much better at this that Kah’ri was, and it showed.
Ja’fri flourished the lighter and lit a bit of alcohol, which he began to “juggle” between two spoons. Finishing his performance, the bartender gently dropped the nearly dead flame onto <@130115588906287106>’s glass, igniting it into a conical blaze.
“More artifacts, indeed,” Kah’ri responded, pressing a button on the datapad. A cross section of the planet appeared on screen with what looked like a tunnel to a large chasm underneath the planet’s surface.
“The location we are looking at is a forgotten underground city, here on Seraph. The artifact in question: a necklace ornamented with a particular jewel. Certain texts refer to it as the ‘Blood Crystal’. Our intel also suggests that some sort of…. entity has managed to hide the city’s presence from the natives. We’re not sure how, exactly, or if this concealment is directly related to the gem,” the Quaestor explained.
“As for your last question: Yes, the Emperor, himself, has commissioned this assignment and will be paying attention to the results.”
The presence in his mind was commanding. The voice was soaked through with power. Were it not familiar, it would have frightened him. Thran paused. His eyes drifted closed. The Force carried his reply.
I was wondering if you’d show. Welcome.
A simple message. It was a recognition of Darth Ashen’s presence, bearing with it a certain solemn respect and earnest surprise.
Thran steeled his mind, burying his machinations and plots behind memories of times long since past. The deep corners and recesses of a cunning and crafty mind could easily become a labyrinth for even the most dominating intruders. His eyes drifted open again.
His brilliant green eyes surveyed the crowd. The Emperor locked eyes with the Lion of Tarthos for a flash of a moment. Thran passed along a casual nod of acknowledgement and returned to surveying his subjects and guests.
“Quite the interesting group gathered here” he said to <@169597761379893249>, before taking a soft sip of champagne.
“Oh.” She glanced at both glasses.
Well.
Bottoms up! She chugs one of them and grimaced at the burn. When a server walked by, she placed the glass on the tray.
“She looked serious. I’ve been berated enough times about having bad timing and interrupting people. Whether that sticks or not is still to be said.”
Air left the Nautolan’s slitted nostrils in what could have been called a snort.
Confirm, he said. Then: do you know how to dance at a function like this, in a dress like that?
Very much so, my darling. I’m glad my idea was a success.“ Rayne turned her attention to the man of the hour. The two had become a powerful Sith couple within their Clan. Thran chose not to wear a mask. Ofcourse not. Why would he cover his face?
She had known Thran since she first stumbled into the Brotherhood many years ago. He was young, wild, and free. Arrogant and prideful. Among other things, this was a man destined to be the center of attention and he knew who he’d needed to inspire loyalty to him. Even when others forgot him, Rayne remembered.
That was a vision of a younger man. He has changed. He still wears that cover. People tend to underestimate him. Frequently. He wants it that way. Rayne knew better. This was a different man, with a clearer head and vision for the Clan. He was still prideful and deceitful, but his arrogance had dissipated greatly. He was calm, collected, patient. And that made him more dangerous.
Sofila looked slightly offended when he snorted, “Now that’s just mean! You didn’t have to agree. I just like talking, okay?” Sofila grumbled while she looked around. Foxen’s hands moved so her eyes went over and was surprised at the question.
“Ah- Uh- Well, the only dance I know is-” She stopped herself right there as she cleared her throat.
Foxen did not need to know that.
“I’m not a dancer but I do pretty well when being guided.” She took a sip of her drink and rose an eyebrow whilst looking at Foxen, “Wait, do you know how to dance?” She would be surprised if he does.
Sykes was about to speak to the two when he felt it. Sheer power had walked into the room and his head snapped up towards the entrance. He saw Soccorra arrive and announce the man behind her. He could feel the sheer power radiating off the former GrandMaster. Sykes’ hunger flared deep within him. “Muz.” He whispered slightly before shaking his head to break the near trance he felt. No. One can’t hunt here. There is too much at stake. But by the gods that’s intoxicating.
Sykes turned from the two siblings to grab another drink from a serving droid. He downed the flute in one gulp and looked around again. He could feel someone, a familiar presence. The sheer power in the room was palpable to him. Again he shook his head to clear it and looked at Elaine and Ellac. “Danger is near. Both of you keep your heads on swivels. Try to enjoy the evening but the Star Chamber has made its appearance. Be cautious when interacting with anyone from another Clan. They are all threats this night.”
Another snort left the man at the display of stumble/fluster. He nodded to her question.
Not a dancer either, but it is occasionally useful. Example: now. Or other event of class. Pick it up when body guard the rich. Also: Jax loves dance. Listen to him talk about such things at length.
He paused again to assess to understanding, as well as taking inventory of the self. Could the task be endured? He had worn gloves. The Sagitta would respect – to best of her ability, when she was not angry and violating – his boundaries.
Do you want to dance?
Kah’ri took a sip of his blue horizon and held it out in front of him… The drink itself seemed to be vibrating… no.. it was his hand… Something was happening and he felt it in the charged air.
Kah’ri looked around the room and noted a figure that Soccora was bowing to. The only other time he’d seen her do this was to Darth Nehalem, which meant… the Star Chamber. Unadulterated power permeated the room sowing a sense of dread in the Savant. This was above his level, and he knew it, but he felt the shift in the people and him, even in Sykes.
Whatever the potential for the evening was moments ago, had now drastically changed.
Muz returned the nod of the new Consul, letting his mind wander for a moment between the threads of what was and what would be. It seemed like yesterday that he had brought ‘Derc Kast’ on board, a central lure for one of his plans to increase brotherhood coffers. He chuckled. No one had suspected, and it had worked out perfectly, half of the Council’s fleet paid for by the plot. After all, the real money always was in religion.
He let his eyes relax, taking a flute of wine from a hostess that walked nearby. Socorra did the same, raising it up to see the bubbles rising in the luxurious fluid.
There’s a lot of people here that think… Her mind reached out to his to send the message, preferring to leave the words unspoken in this space.
He actually preferred it. It was patently inefficient to use your voice, when your mind could press so much more detail in such a short period of time. Of course, Sith ambition would demand they at least consider any Grand Master…but her? It seems that there’s just as many as interested in spilling your blood.
She glanced around the room. Perhaps. She toasted in the direction of the new Emperor and took a long sip of the bubbly wine. I didn’t think I had to worry, as your Herald…
You don’t. The Lord of the Krath was many things, but oblivious was not one of them. The Force sang to him always, in melodies of joy and woe, telling him what would happen long before it would. Long enough that the word surprise only held meaning in distant memory.
Yet if they try? Socorra smiled and nodded at a passing noble of some stripe or another. The masques that some wore were elaborate, bearing status symbols she used to know.
The Lion raised an eyebrow in mirth, looking at her, inadvertant memories of brutal combat and war, of the deaths of more than any could count pouring from his mind before he realized the look on her face, somewhere between horror and elation. Yet I came in peace. For Thran.
“The Star Chamber?” She asked. She had heard the name before but she did not know to the full extent what it was.
Of course. Would be a shame if the booze and buffet were destroyed in the fight before we sampled.
Her arctic blue eye perused the guests, familiar Force signatures drawing her attention…and some disbelief.
Bizarre. Arconans. Here, of all places.
“Hmmm.” It was an audible gravelly grumble of some sort.
Not that Socorra herself wished to party with Imperials, but she had an assignment and an escort. Did they just have a death wish?
The Erinos stared directly at Foxen. She would neither sign a message (not about to dig for a datapad) nor mentally send one (didn’t care to piss him off tonight). But the stare alone said what the actual kark are you doing here?
<@244244163002892288>
Because he was watching everything all at once as much as possible, Foxen noticed the blatant stare from the Socorra while he awaited an answer from the Sagitta. Red eyes met sole blue, and he cocked his head, then looked pointedly down at the Mirialan beside him, a new sworn to their aliit.
Low at his hip, he used one hand to make two signs; not Basic signs, but specifically Erinos military ones, ally and defend, in the Sagitta’s direction. It would be a similar enough sentiment, as it was also factual, despite lacking the context of personal fashion integrity as well as that of the Erinos.
“Oooh! That makes sense. Ah. Kark. Do you think I should start to take dance classes? Considering I may have to go more events?” Sofila groaned under her breath. Does being a leader of something meant more social environment she would have to learn? Sofila normally doesn’t mind socializing but there’s a difference between fun and duty.
Then she was taken back by Foxen’s next question. She stared at him for awhlie. Part of her wanted to laugh but she didn’t.
Foxen doesn’t joke. Ever.
“Oh um-” Something else had directed his attention so she turned to find what it was. She saw Socorra and was going to wave but that look from her begged to differ.
“You know, Elaine invited me. I should be a kinder guest.” Sofila sighed as she can feel that she was becoming serious. She hated it.
Boring!
“Save that dance for later. Want to come with me?”
Foxen nodded.
Confirm, later. Also confirm, escort, was all he said, and stepped up, red gaze fixed on the Elaine indicated earlier. He showed her the same signal he’d shown Zuza. This is for danger. Though we’ll be closer. Keep distance from the man in the middle. Uncertain what kind, but he is a predator.
With that he strode forward, both keeping her close at hand but also cutting a path through the crowd with his indomitable bulk, like a slow moving avalanche.
Elaine listened to the wisdom of her master. He had more knowledge than she could ever hope to have.
She had learned to get along with one member of a clan he spoke of. In fact, she had even forwarded an invitation to that same person. Armis, Sofila. A female Mirialan that was not terribly far from Elaine’s age.
Elaine noticed the young Arconian making her way towards her, Sykes, and Ellac accompanied by what she could only guess was another member of Arcona.
Kamjin checked his chronometer. Just how long was this line going to take for him to get to meet with the new ‘Emperor’. After what seemed like days, he noticed a waitress walking by.
“Excuse me, do you know what’s holding up the line?” Kamjin asked, putting out a hand to stop the waitress.
“Ugh, keep your hands to yourself,” she shook with revulsion but didn’t drop her tray of drinks. “Just wait your turn like all the rest of the commoners,” she said, pulling away and resuming her rounds. “Geez, everyone thinks they’re somebody important.” Kamjin could hear her mutter as she left.
But I am someone important, he thought to himself. Chuckling at his private joke. After what seemed like even more days, finally it was his turn.
“Greetings, Emperor,” he began, his youthful smirk hidden by his golden laced mask. “I bring you tiding of joy and well wishes for your reign.” <@693983046197706842>
“Well, this evening is just full of unexpected guests…Couldn’t resist the urge, could you?” Thran said to Kamjin.
“With a party this fine how could I miss it?” Kamjin replied.
“Indeed. It may surprise you that your presense doesn’t upset me. You aren’t crashing my party. This party is for them.” Thran gestured out over the crowd “This was not my idea. Alas, even frivolities, at times, become the duty of head of state. I’d almost dare to say that I wish I could be working right now. With the Hutts gone, the Empire must move swiftly to cauterize that wound.”
“You do need to move swiftly. Our fears were well grounded. You know of whom I speak and you’ve done well to ingratiate yourself with them. But, you’re not going to solve those challenges tonight,” Kamjin said, surveying the room from the slightly elevated step he had been permitted to raise to in order to pay homage to the Emperor.
“I confess, I see a lot of faces here I did not expect. You really are taking this seriously.”
“It is a new era, Kamjin. Diplomacy has its place in this day and age. For now, at least. And personal sentiment regarding the parties involved aside. That said, I too am surprised at seeing who has taken up the invitation.” Thran said, sipping again from his flute.
“My dear Thran, is that growth I’m hearing in your voice? Perhaps the Usurper will gain a new title at the end of all of this. In the interim, I’ll share some unwanted advice. After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting,” Kamjin said with a bow.
“You know where to find me if you need me.” With that, Kamjin backed down the stairs with the practiced respect he had watched hundreds of others do for him before disappearing into the crowd.
Thran turns briefly to Rayne. “I swear it on my life…I will kill that man one day.”
Rayne met his emerald eyes with a smile, “And the serpent will strike…” she said, knowing patience was never his strong suit.
Kamjin navigated his way through the crowd. He sensed him nearby. An ally…perhaps still an ally. But someone whom he needed to have a long overdue chat with.
After a few moments he pulled up behind a gentlemen. Placing a gentle, but firm, hand upon his shoulder Kamjin spoke. “Sykes, it’s time we had a chat.”
Sykes turned slowly, knowing the voice behind him well. “Indeed it would be time.” The Sith bowed his head slightly and moved away with the Elder, grabbing a whiskey from the bar and moving towards a corner.
He put his back to the wall and lit a cigarette. “Been a minute there, Kam”
Kamjin grabbed a drink, it was…purple…from a passing waitress and joined Sykes in the corner. “I’ve been busy being dead for a while. You’ve seem to have kept yourself healthy.”
“One must always be prepared for war. Now that I’ve been working for the Collegium now however I haven’t had much time to spend in Imperial space. Lots of exploring to do.”
“I’ve heard of some of those explorations. I’ve always found visiting new locations and meeting new people kept me young at heard.”
“You haven’t been young in a long time, Kam. I have my own ways to keep my wonderful looks.”
“I’ve heard of some of those ways. I tend to ignore them until I hear you may be eating something that’ll be unhealthy for you in the long run. You’ve been far to useful for me to find you put out of action over something you ate.”
“You obviously know what I am, Kam. Maybe you should have told your children more horror stories growing up. They might have grown up to be far more respectful to those they don’t know. Galaxy is full of horror out there.”
“And I am one of them,” Kamjin’s voice raised momentarily above the noise of the crowd as his eyes flashed yellow/red through his golden laced mask. It passed in a blink of the eye.
“You’re right,” Kamjin said, calmly stroking the lapel on Syke’s coat. “Perhaps I should have prepared my children better for the galaxy. You’ll naturally recall that they weren’t with me for a while and, as such, I couldn’t.” Kamjin picked a piece of lint off Syke’s shoulder and sent it fluttering to the ground.
“Now, I respect you and still have a need for your…talents,” he said, half sneering at the word. “Let’s consider this an unfortunate dining experience that won’t be revisited and carry on.”
The black began to creep into Sykes eyes. The hunger within him spiked as the elder human touched him. The tendrils barely peaked from his cheeks as he stood up straighter.
“You left this Clan. You hold nothing over me and even when you were here I have never been a pawn. But allow me to help you with this. She was about to kill herself and the rest of that strike team. By me doing what I did, I saved her life. And she learned something from it.” Sykes took a puff from his cigarette and blew the smoke into Kamjin face. “You’re threats hold no weight on me. Something that wants to die doesn’t have much to threaten.”
Sykes looked around and took a breath. The black from his eyes dissipated and he flashed a quick smile. “However, a compatriot. Now that is something to gain. I am sure we can benefit each other in our lines of work.”
Kamjin inhaled the smoke, pausing, savoring the acidic tang, and then blowing it back out through his nose. Even with a mask, it was clear his expression hadn’t changed. “I am aware of my daughter’s…opportunities,” he said after a time.
Cocking his head in his usual playful way, he continued on. “Now then, threats…we’re both too old and too experienced to find much by way of threatening words,” Kamjin said, downing his drinking and handing it off to a passing waitress. It tasted like purple, which was to say, he wasn’t going to drink another.
“Now then, you know I didn’t leave the Clan. I was called upon to serve another purpose…for a time. Now, tell me, what is happening with my Empire?” Kamjin inquired, clearly making it known he considered himself still of the Empire despite now being of the Brotherhood.
“Your Empire is it?” Sykes scoffed. He threw back his own drink and chuckled. “You really need to learn how to drink again.” He waved the waitress back over and ordered two Whryrens Reserve whiskeys. “Right now ol Thranny boy is playing Emperor. Much past that I’m not sure. After this little war was over I got sent on another dig. Old Sith site. Picked up a few scraps but not much useful. I have heard rumors of new weapons facilities being built.”
The waitress returned, Sykes grabbed the two drinks and handed one to Kamjin. “You’re the one who knew the dealings more than I. As I said, I’ve been away to.” He held his glass up to cheers
Kamjin clinked glasses with Sykes and took a tentative sip. “It’s been a lot of decades since I was a flight jockey in a TIE and could hold my liquor. The downside of flying a desk,” Kamjin said, suppressing a cough.
“I was mostly interested in how Thran was becoming accustomed to the Throne. He was an excellent manipulator and businessman but,” Kamjin paused, looking up at the throne where Thran was whispering with Rayne as another well-wisher was bowing and gesturing. “I’m not certain how well he’ll walk the line necessary to play nice with the other clans. A lot of deals are often bitter pills to swallow…at least for a while,” Kamjin said, while taking another sip.
The Anzat looked over at the throne and shook his head. “You know how much I take to him. He’s a pompous ass and utterly ridiculous. But he is also very clever and ruthless.” Sykes sipped his drink and took another puff of the smoke. “He isn’t a politician like you but I feel that’s something we may need at this point. Being too cozy with these other Clans,” he looked over at the Arconans who had moved to Elaine. “Is a mistake that we should have rectified. Insulting to have their presence here.” He took another drink, enjoying the burn of the liquor on his tongue. “But that is the talk of old men.”
“Speak for yourself. In comparison to you I’m still a young man,” Kamjin said, laughing as he took another sip. He was not going to match this man drink for drink but he was going to keep up the appearance.
“Everyone has this uses Sykes. The Arconans are an especially brutual bunch when they put their minds to it. Did I ever tell you about the time I tangled with Marick and he left me with the bill for trashing a Hutt’s casino?”
Looking over the crowd and tiring of the pomp and circumstance, The Usurper rises from the throne. He turns to his Commander-At-Arms, Leader of the Praetorian Guard, whispers something in his ear, then turns away. Thran takes Rayne’s arm in his, descends from the Dais and exits the party with his retinue.
Kamjin leaned into Sykes and whispered, “We probaly should leave too. If Thran is leaving I wouldn’t put it past him to kill everyone here to prevent long good-byes.”
Sykes leaned forward and kissed Kamjin on the cheek. “Do try to be less intimate next time.” He pushed Kam away and downed his drink. “Yeah let’s go. I’m tired of the pleasantries anyways.”
Kamjin blinked his eyes. That was unexpected and he knew Sykes was drunk and trying to throw him off balance. “You never change you encourageable ass.”
Foxen’s eyes tracked the new head of Imperial Fandom Asshats and his assorted retinue as it left the ‘festivities.’ Counted guards. Targeted positions. Assessed.
The former Head Asshat had taken the Trouble-Shaped thing away, but not far. The former planet-eater still remained.
Ballsy move, pal, leaving your own party before the biggest stick here.
The East side of Stupid, yes, but with a certain panache.
Red eyes flicked towards his (now two, ish) charges. The Zuza still tried to make conversation with a pillar. Or more likely: with an object: person that might as well have been furniture. The Sagitta was still moving to socialize with the Elaine.
Dynamics changing. Risk increased: 87%.
The Nautolan hybrid raised his hand towards the Zuza in the signal he had taught her, hoping the Human fraking looked up. Then he stuck the other arm out in front of the Sagitta, and it nearly became a full-force arm bar when she almost strode into it.
Wowee, she actually had neurons that reacted in a configuration to dodge. Who would have known. Mild amazement identified as she leaned back, arms pinwheeling, to keep from braining herself on his elbow.
<@432543120635461643> <@216702440140046336>
Kah'ri, now aware that he was distracted, turned back to Issamuel, who was poring over the datapad for any useful information. “I’ll be sending you an information packet to your new dormitory, so you can prepare. In the meantime..” Kah'ri removed the datapad and shook the man’s hand. “There is no officially expected timeframe, but I warn you: The Emperor does not enjoy waiting where he need not wait.” With that, the Quaestor moved to exit the ballroom, exchanging a nod with Thran as he left.
“What the kark, Foxen!?” yelped Sofila as she glanced around. People were skedaddling the frick out of here.
“Oh. Okay. I"ll grab Zuza.”
She quickly made her way and found Zuza. She quickly grasped her hand. “Hi.”
With a smile, she twirled Zuza and dipped her while she whispered in her ear while giving out sexy vibes.
“Foxen said danger. We need to get out.”
Then she pulled back sightly and scooped up Zuza, princess style. Their face very close. Anyone looking would think they were lovers.
“Let’s leave, m'lady.” With that, she hurrily made her way to Foxen for them to go.
<@432543120635461643> <@244244163002892288>
Zuza had looked surprised but smiled, taking Sofila’s hand and moving to dance with her but then she was twirled and why was this with this vibe-
Oh.
She wasn’t as surprised by being scooped up and just tried to look graceful, laying an arm over Sofila’s shoulder and laughing despite the slight strain to her expression in worry.
“Well whisk me away then~”
Well.
That was a display.
At least the Sagitta followed directions swiftly and effectively. Listening: improving.
Good, he made sure to tell the Mirialan when the females regained his side. As they were close to the bar, he had already obtained 8 knives from behind it and one 15cm vegetable/fruit garnish skewer that could be ideal for occipital insertion. All completely unbalanced for throwing though.
Tactical goddamn flexibility.
Stay close Z-U-Z-A watch our six, the Nautolan instructed, and, assessing the relative positions and number of occupants in the chamber, elected to take point. He bulldozed through the remaining crowd and stopped only to glare the weapons check into submission. At least it wasn’t a tedious process; they’d needed a whole drawer for his weapons, and so the Nautolan just took it. The entire drawer itself.
Not princess style though.
Red eyes did not look back for the Socorra bowing to the Ashen. He already knew of her intentions.
The two Arconans and the Mandalorian absconded back towards the spaceport, monogrammed Scholae Palatine silverware in tow.