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One Night in New Shri-Tal | First Order

- - - - - The First Order First Order FO FOSB Get Crunk Slammed Jammered Strawberry Syrup

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Isobel Nakano

Isobel Nakano

    Eldritch Blast!

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Private Club

2000 Hours Local Time


The normally busy private club known as the Alibi Room was, rather mysteriously to the locals, closed to normal business for the day. Reservations had been rejected with countless apologies, with some of the more influential clients even being sent cases of liquor by way of apologies for the inconvenience. Unfortunately for them, the First Order had rented the entire premises, from top to tail, for one evening, with an eye towards providing its people with a night of well-catered luxury and culture. The city of New Shri-Tal was known for its resorts and luxury accommodations, its casinos and restaurants, its beautiful weather and festive atmosphere, but the Alibi Room was another foxhunt altogether. 


Exclusive and luxurious didn't even touch it. 




The staff -- having been double- and triple-checked by the First Order Security Bureau -- had polished the place to a pristine shine. A line-up of well-known jazz acts from Atrisia and elsewhere in the First Order had been assembled to heighten the atmosphere, while the finest food and drink were arranged. Staff was on hand to meet their every whim -- within reason, of course. Of course, the two-story main cocktail lounge was polished to a shine, ready to receive visitors as the musical act began with the lovely and talented Lily Hong crooning a lively love song




Meanwhile, in the Gaming Parlour, dealers were on hand to guide those fancying a flutter in any number of games, from Pai Gow to Sabbacc, as well as some other traditional Atrisian games. Cocktail waiters and waitresses circled to take orders and deliver drinks and snacks, while music from the main bar area wafted pleasantly into the room, but not so loud as to prevent conversation. No less luxuriously appointed than the rest of the Alibi Room, the Gaming Parlour includes intricately carved art deco reliefs, plush furniture, and muted lighting, creating intimate bubbles of conversation and gaming. 


Of course, in a building the size of this club, there are no doubt lots of dark corners, hidden alcoves, and other such places for those looking to escape the glare of the glamorous proceedings going on in the club...




Rolf Amsel | The Major | Natasi Fortan

Luther Ando | Dominic Craig | Odile Kimura | Val Pellian | Veena Reshma | Isobel Nakano | Delilah Graham

Robogeber | Cyrus Tregessar | Sienna Vekarr | Sibar Laval | Rae-Anna Ku | Samka Derith | Kyrel Ren | Jorah zos Darnus




Natasi Fortan

Natasi Fortan

    The Original

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The dress: vivid red with a lace overlay.

The shoes: nude pumps made from very soft baby animals.

The hair: styled beautifully in a braided bun.

The speeder: a sporty two-seater. 

The man: Colonel Rolf Amsel, behind the wheel.


Lydia had never been to the Atrisian Commonwealth before, though her reporters had covered its entrance into the First Order with just the kind of fanfare that the event deserved -- and the Ministry of Culture demanded. She was therefore pleased to be in the Commonwealth. It was a combined business and pleasure trip, as earlier in the week she had been pleased to open the newest Camden Media Group Network regional bureau on Atrisia proper, prepared to do its part in the First Order's Premiere Worlds initiative. But, looking out the window of the snappy speeder that Colonel Amsel drove, Lydia pulled her stylish sunglasses down and surveyed the resort city of New Shri-Tal. It was easy to wonder whether she had made a mistake not to put the bureau here instead. 


Lydia sighed softly as the car entered the queue waiting to turn into the Alibi Room driveway. It was apparently going to be quite the shindig tonight, judging by the number of cars in the line. "I heard an interesting rumor today," she said after a moment, pushing her shades back up her nose. She shifted in the seat, tugging at her crash webbing absent-mindedly as she turned her body a little more towards her companion. "A member of a rival news outfit that came to cover the new bureau station implied that a Camden Media Group employee was engaged in an improper relationship with a man tipped to be on the shortlist for the next Supreme Commander," Lydia said casually, her eyes cutting to him from behind their glasses. "Actually, I overheard her in the ladies' calling me an unscrupulous, conniving slut, but -- go with me on this -- wouldn't that make me a psychic? You weren't on any shortlists when we started seeing each other. I'm not sure whether I should have encouraged this narrative or kicked the stall door in and drowned her in the 'fresher."


She drew her compact from her handbag and began to touch up her makeup. "Any truth in these rumors? Off the record, of course."

Edited by Lydia Finn-Camden, 16 February 2019 - 10:23 AM.


Dominic Craig

Dominic Craig

    Fortunate Son

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Location: Game and Cocktail Lounge

Objective: Run a sweep. 

People: Veena Reshma

Special Agent Dominic Craig loathed security detail. He understood the essential nature of it, the First Order had enemies, and these enemies needed to be vanquished. But this was Atrisia, a world of the empire. Not some foreign territory or even an outposts on the First Order fringe. Still, it was neither here nor there. "Werewolf, this is Omni, we are active." The roof top security team reported, "All eyes in the air, and on the ground." Good. Dominic strode through the open air of the theatre, listening to the dulcet tones of the jazz reverberate through the halls. A cigarette hung out the left of his mouth, as he patrolled through the myriad of bars, and gambling tables, giving cursorary waves, and nods to any FOSB staff he recognised. 


The Agent sauntered through the bar, and cocktail lounge before eyeing her. Reshma. A newbie. She'd been gladhanding and ball busting the servers as they catered to the First Order elite. Dominic sympathised with her, she had been stuck in offices for the last few weeks, running character checks. But at the same time, he felt some rancor, she was a desk jockey, now assigned to him. Kark. Attired in a beige jacket, and blue tie, the Special Agent nestled himself at the bar, sitting on a stall, "Barman!" he called, his voice harsh and growling, his arm raised, waving over the server. "Atrisian Sake." The FOSB man commanded, before turning to the agent, offering a mixture between a smirk and scowl, "So, how's your first assignment, newbie?" he inquired, taking a husky drag, leaning against the bar, and dabbing his ashes into a tray. 


Veena Reshma

Veena Reshma

    Ginger spymaster extraordinaire

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Location: Game and Cocktail Lounge
Objective: Keep things smooth 
“Better than pushing paper at the office,” Veena remarked conversationally as she signaled the bartender that she would have the same, perching herself atop one of the stools by the barside. Her gaze wandered over briefly to the jazz band playing before meeting the bartender once more to hand him credits for the drink.  
"I'd take loud Atrisian jazz music over the dead atmosphere of the bureau headquarters any day of the week," in truth she was not one for clubs or the excessive partying that dominated many agents weekends, her home planet was not exactly renowned for its nightlife either. Hopefully, the more liquor that burned down her throat, the more tolerable the evening would become for her. 
The Chalactan agent dug her cigarette clip out of her suit coat, holding the slim paper roll to the lighter, pleased that her hands were steady enough not to shake. “Please don't tell me the VIPs want their hands held all night,  its not like anyone is gonna get in here with all the measures and checks done by the agency," she smirked somewhat mockingly back at the elder agent,  taking a measured drag of her cigarette before exhaling clouds of smoke back out. 



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The Attire: Light Gray, Checkered Pocket Square

The shoes: Dark Leather Oxfords

The hair: Well Maintained, Parted

The Speeder: a sporty two-seater. a sporty three seater ;)

The Woman: Lydia Finn-Camden


"Is that so?" interjected Rolf, eyes scanning the row of vehicles. It looked like they were going to be there a minute, several valets scurrying to and fro. Rolf's expression turned to an amused grin as Lydia began revealing this 'rumor' she'd heard. He fought back a laugh as she continued on about himself being on a short list for Supreme Commander - that would be the day. As she elaborated on the colorful language to describe his evening's date. "How rude." Rolf frowned. 


As Lydia moved to fix her makeup, Rolf responded to the question as to the rumor's truth - or lack thereof. "Well, if there is truth to the rumor - I'm certainly not aware of any short list. Though, it wouldn't surprise me if you turned out to be one of those psychics." he said. "Your ability to be in the wrong place at the right time, and the right place at the right time is unequaled." The First Order officer chuckled, resting a hand just above her knee. "I guess you're just lucky like that, huh?" A quick glance saw the woman scrunching her face in an attempt to correct some error in application but it made Rolf smile. He couldn't recall the last time he had been on Atrisia but where the State sent you, there you went. "I couldn't have asked for better company you know. Captain Xorath was close, but on account of his bad breath, you beat him out." Rolf sent a joking wink her way. "Looks like they're getting closer." he remarked, a young valet beginning to approach.

Edited by Rolf Amsel, 19 February 2019 - 05:32 PM.


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Location: Table 157, Poker

Minimum Bet: 25 Imperial Credits

Winning Streak: -5

Drink of Choice: Meltdown

Nearby: Dominic Craig | Isobel Nakano | Veena Reshma


Five in a row. Even the excessively stoic Chiss Lieutenant Commander found his frustrations rising - though in part, it could have been the drink. The legal version of the Reactor Core, it leaned towards the edgy side. A subtle touch of roguish charm to the otherwise polished young officer. As was the standard for state sponsored initiatives, Saren was clad in his Navy uniform. Every jig line was in place, shimmering accoutrements polished to a haughty sheen - the image of a squared away officer. Despite his pristine visage, his luck couldn't be more sour at the moment. Five times in a row he'd come up short, a low pair, a high three of a kind beat by a flush, a bluff, another high pair beat by a three of a kind, and a total flop. Each time he'd lost credits but an inexplicable feeling at the edge of his consciousness kept him in the game for another round.


Red eyes surveyed the others at the table. So far the table members had remained fairly consistent with the exception of a new join. As the cards were being dealt he peered over his shoulder at the rest of the tables, curious to see if he recognized anyone. So far it was a negative but as a State sponsored push to encourage travel to the First Order world of Atrisia, he expected he'd see a friendly face sooner or later. As for the cuisine, he couldn't say it was his favorite but the liquor was on par with the rest of the First Order. As the bets went around, he tossed in for the small blind, gently thumbing up the edge of his cards before returning his hands to the edge of the table, folded in front of him. *Let the betting commence.*


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"Sake, reveals the true heart."



It was fitting that Odile found himself here despite his reserved nature. The man remained a mystery to most he worked with in the First Order, perhaps a relic of Atrisian heritage and history though he was anything but old. "An old spirit" he'd been called by Mrs. Monoke, the resident sage in his home town. Not one to believe in the superstitions Odile remained largely unconvinced, though there were times.. Mr. Kimura's thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of the saxaphone as the brief respite from the changing of acts concluded. Jazz filled the venue now, a soft yet razzy melody. Markedly different than the music Odile was familiar with but not unwelcome.


Removing the spectacles from his face and reaching for a cloth tucked into his pocket, Odile cleaned them, giving the glasses a quick onceover before replacing both to their respective places. "An interesting choice, grandiose if nothing else." he commented. Growing up in Kansai Province, the likes of 'The Alibi Room' were far outside what he would consider his typical haunt. Far preferable were the quiet tea halls, hidden in the alleyways of many of the larger towns. The wafting scent of incense, the aromatic tea filling the lounge - a contrast to the live and bustling nature of The Alibi Room. Familiar faces ringed the guests, some he'd merely seen at state events, others he knew by name. Even so, Mr. Kimura was a bit of a recluse, choosing to stand beside an ornate column and sip on his small mug of coffee - he wasn't one for libations.


They made you vulnerable, loosened the tongue, created a false sense of safety - Mr. Kimura couldn't afford the luxury nor the risk. Some people found him cantankerous, elusive, unwilling to commit one way or another but what they failed to realize was that Mr. Kimura was in fact quite deliberate.


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Cocktail / Smoking Lounge, The Alibi Room

Val Kordova | SSA



Operating under the radar and often in disguise granted the woman a much deserved anonymity, she thought. Yesterday it might have been a transient, liquored to the moon - today it was Ms. Bethany La Roche. A significantly more feminine choice of wardrobe from her usual, the dark lace and leather accents made her far more conspicuous than her comfort allowed for. Fortunately, she was a near natural actress and no one would even think that she was the slightest bit bothered. In the dimly lit cocktail room a haze settled in near the ceiling, despite the ventilation. Bethany herself took a drag from the carefully poised cigarette between her fingers, washing down the smoky tobacco with a sip of the narrow flute of rosé resting on the small table next to her chair.


"Oh of course not." she said, a subtle hint of laughter trilling in her voice. "It would be a miracle if they're able to pull off a win." her response to the previous question was greeted with a frown and a *Harumpf*. Mr. Alistair Griswold sat opposite the woman, several dedicated puffs on the pipe held between his teeth eliciting another small cloud of smoke. "Well, they did just pick up that power forward. What's his name? Eckert? If you really know your huttball, he'd be the one to watch. I wouldn't be so sure about your prediction." The man was aged though to call him old would be a disservice. As Val had discovered, he was a fairly avid huttball fan - thankfully she'd done a fair amount of keeping up with current events be it politics or sport. You never knew when that one tidbit of information was the only thing keeping you from a firm handshake or a vibroblade in the gut.


Taking another long drag from the cigarette she tapped it out in the ashtray, letting the smoke slowly escape her slightly parted lips. "Well Mr, Griswold, it certainly has been a pleasure. Perhaps we'll meet again after the game and we can see whose was the better guess." A sly smile spread across her features before finishing off her wine. "I think I'll just go grab another drink." Lifting herself from the reclined lounge chair Bethany made her way out of the small lounge and headed for one of the main bars. Eyeing the guests, she wondered if there was anyone she'd recognize in attendance.