Ascendancy: The Victors Ball

Kamon's OOC · Mar 19, 2017

The Palace de' Nuovo was not an old establishment. It had been placed under construction near the end of the Mandalorian reign on the world, and had seen minimal use by anyone other than former Imperial benefactors. Suffice to say, it was exclusive, expensive, and underutilized. This was precisely why Leos had chosen it to be a venue for a social gathering. Post invasion of the world of Bastion, it became evident that they needed a way to wind down. Passing the time in a manner that didn't require killing seemed essential. Not only that, but their numbers had been growing and it would behoove them to socialize in order to get to know their fellows.

So he'd booked the venue, with a DJ and an open bar. The latter was likely to see more use than anything. He'd invited a lot of single men and women to mingle, as well as all of his former Sith. He knew some of them had a rather voracious appetite, after all. Though he didn't particularly care for that fact, it was in the best interests of them as a group if he kept everyone happy. And, well, he didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Leos was wearing a newer style grey button up jacket with black pants and square toe shoes. In his hand was a glass of water as he spoke briefly with the DJ droid that was in control of the music. Few had arrived, but there were enough already situated, talking among themselves for newcomers to be comfortable. Of course, Leos had taken the opportunity to invite [member="Kith Verloren"] along. It would be good for her to get out and meet some of the others, but he also wanted her to get a feeling for dealing with larger groups of people. It would be beneficial for later on, down the road.

That and he wanted to dance with her, but that was secondary.

At present, a slower song by the righteous group known as Gunship was playing. Now all the others need to come, eat, drink, and enjoy themselves at his expense.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpuhy8iBvVo

Ras'kala'han · Mar 19, 2017

Antherion had arrived late to the last party the Ascendancy had held. He was uncertain whether that was somehow the tiny pebble that rippled outwards into the loss of the Caldera, the rise of the Purebloods of Athiss, and his entanglement in the machinations of another Lord in the form of [member="Darth Abyss"], but he figured that it was best to arrive early this time.

His aid to the Empire of Vrak Nashar, his flimsy excuses for said aid, and the fact that he hadn't actually fought in the Invasion of Bastion, instead seeding contacts in it with Ziost? These were all the more reason that he wanted his arrival to be, above all else, subtle - he was not interested in being vaporized over trying to step in and drawing the attention of a crowd of resentful Sith Lords.

He stepped in on his own, two feet, supported by a cane of gnarled, varnished black wood that seemed still to be branching out and growing with grasping, branch-like protrusions. He had draped a loose-fitting, shimmersilk robe over his slender figure, and wrapped a ribbon of black silk around his throat.

He stepped in and was greeted by the pleasant thrum of dance music and the stylishly dressed [member="Ignus"] embroiled in a conversation with a droid. The official ambassador between the Resurgence and Ascendancy nodded slightly and hobbled towards the bar. He was going to need something astonishing to make it through the night without a headache. Hopefully, it would just be a quiet evening.

Dravis Rosilla · Mar 19, 2017

The Victor's Ball. That's what they were calling it.

They. Not we. Not yet, anyways.

Dravis had arrived with no fanfare, no bravado, nothing that would deem him a target. He had even forgone his usual dark, fancy robes for a simple grey cloth shirt and pants. The young Sith had found the nearest empty spot at the bar, and sat himself down, ordering something not all that pleasant on the taste buds, even though many finer options were in stock. He was used to the simple pleasures of terrible drink.

Drav didn't know what to think of the new Ascendancy. In his eyes, they weren't victors. A few won battles did not define a man. The Bith knew this firsthand- he had served under Mephirium's short and bloody band of Lords. That ended quickly, even though they had won battles.

We had fancied ourselves victors, but we lost in the end.

We.

"Another, please." Dravis swiped his glass to the bartender with practiced precision, expecting another disgusting beverage to greet his lips soon enough.

- [member="Antherion"] - [member="Ignus"] -

Matreya · Mar 19, 2017

Music blared from a speaker nearby, but a man that seemed the least dressed, yet elegant none the less, stood with an ancient appearing book in his hands. Going slowly down the runes of the millenia old Val'halain texts with the tips of his finger, his lips moving to the rhythm of the words. What he was studying only the most impressively knowledgable would be able to infer, as the texts he read were now older than a million years. They had been preserved as it was said they were the first texts made by the Gods.

Absentmindedly the hand that held the book relinquished its hold, replaced by a perfectly mimicked hand of telekinesis so as to utilize his flesh to grip the glass sitti g next to him on the small table. With leg crossed over the other he could have easily moved the book to be placed there, but why bother? He was a Master among masters, bearing the presence of himself and Zaiden James-Greyson, another Master of the Force, one overly powerful as such. Not to mention the others bound to him as well.

It meant nothing to hold a book in place.

Taking a sip of the brandy held inside his glass, he finally cast his visor covered eyes to the growing party and its numbers. He was a member of yet another Sith faction, though he did not consider himself such any longer. Much the same as in the past however, he knew it was likely the best way for him to get the inevitable outcomes he desired. He had done the same when he challenged for position of Emperor, he had known too achieve his goals the Primeval would help.

So he was once more among those much like he, though vastly different. Hoping to reach the plans he had.

Poe · Mar 19, 2017

I entered the ball room, dressed casually and comfortably; wearing a white silk dress with black outlining that happily brushed along the floor. Over my shoulders rested a black, hooded shawl that flirted erotically with the small of my back, and a pair of soft heeled boots that muffled my steps. My white hair, which I naturally wear down, was braided and pulled back; the braids looped into a knot. To complete my ensemble, my hands were encased in fingerless, black silk gloves that ran the length of my forearm, ending where my elbows started. Outside of my attire, the only accessory I brought with me was the lent lightsaber given to me for my mission; and that was firmly attached to the black sash around my waist waiting to be returned. I was naturally beautiful on the outside, it was what was contained on the inside that made me the ugly monster I was shaping up to be.

Flashing small, well timed smiles to those I passed by, my tall frame glided swiftly across the floor toward the bar. I looked over the assortment of drinks, unsure what to pick. I never drank anything other than blood and water, and since I did not have the opportunity to see the liquid spirits brought out and opened before my eyes; I opted to not drink tonite. I didn't trust anyone to lace it with poison, and it's not paranoid thinking on my part; this is my typical thinking on how best I could eliminate threats in one fatal swoop. I've done it before, and it was a safe bet I would do it quite often in the future. I knew what and who I was, a murderous monster who constantly drummed up creative and inventive ways to kill. Then there's the flesh-eating aspect, or as my former handlers had so politely carved into my back; cannibal.

Ignoring the bartender's question, I pushed away from the bar ending up at the small buffet with it's array of cooked meats and side dishes. Cringing my nose at the spoiled meats, I picked out a couple of round, purple objects for the sake of appearances only. It was at that moment the band began to go into it's set. I listened intently, feeling a passive and soothing nature wash over me. I began to chuckle, recalling a phrase I heard about how music soothes the savage beast; and it didn't get much savage than me.

Ever Dawnracer · Mar 19, 2017

I hadn't met any of them. Though I'd only just arrived on Bastion after they'd cleansed it of known Mandalorian swine, so it was to be expected. I wasn't even officially a member of their order, as it was. But they did seem well organized, and their military was much more so than what I'd seen from the Empire over in the Caldera. Suffice to say, it impressed me more, though I hadn't seen too much of the galaxy at that point. In my limited travels, though, this was the most impressive. I needed to meet more of them, though, if I was going to become a part of their order, and I'd struggled to do that up to that point, but when they announced they were holding a ball, I saw a prime opportunity.

Visiting a store, I purchased a nice, green dress. Purchased with stolen credits, but the dead didn't need them and I didn't have any so why should I let them go to waste? I slipped myself into the gown, tossing my hair off to one side to cascade down the side of my face. I found that it seemed the most pleasing to people. Though, giving my height and the way I showed off certain parts of me, it could be that my hair never really mattered. I thought it looked nice, though. A little bit of red lipstick on my lips and I looked fairly good so I made my way to the location of the ball and entered along with many of the others.

There were several there already. The most interesting was a very tall, white skinned woman that made me feel entirely like a dwarf. It made me giggle just a little bit, but I walked over to her nonetheless and took a plate to pluck a few items from the table.

"Not quite as nice as fresh fish, but it'll do. No?"

| [member="Satia"] |

Darth Osano · Mar 19, 2017

Parties usually weren't his thing, but this was a special occasion. The Sith Ascendancy had seized control of Bastion and were looking to expand. Opportunity was calling to him. If he wanted to remain in the Ascendancy's good graces, it was a good idea to attend their social gatherings. Maybe not start brown-nosing just yet, but make the requisite appearance. Get a lay of the land, see who interacted with who. To this end Maleagant merely approached one of the open bars, ordered himself a mundane and unimaginative alcoholic drink native to Bastion, and hunkered down. He would occasionally steal a glance at his datapad and glance around, seeing who was present.

So far Lord Ignus was the only remarkable person he could recognize. There was a Bith present, but that only caught his notice because the species wasn't prolific in these parts.

Well, there was still time. Something squirmed about irritably inside of Maleagant's suit jacket. He pressed his hand to his chest as if feeling for something and the squirming stopped. Probably just nerves. The fiasco on Luminoss had been a dull one indeed. It certainly hadn't kindled in Maleagant an intense love for these sorts of social events either.

Laguz Vald · Mar 19, 2017

It wasn’t a shi’ido thing, because Laguz loved social gatherings. At its most basic, it was window shopping. Not only was it a showcase for the latest and greatest, but it was always, without fail, a feast for the senses as well.

So many new faces. So many new skins. Xe could hardly wrap xir mind around them all – except xe could, because xe’d been doing it for well over two centuries. Artists would grow green with envy for xir skill in deconstruction. The assassin could take one look at a creature’s features and be able to reproduce them in the broadest of strokes. If you let xem study xir target for, say, a minute… their own mother couldn’t tell the difference.

And oh, the gestures! Crème de la crème, assembled to collectively drink the sticks out of their well-dressed asses. Such events were always a unique opportunity to observe the rich and the notorious in their natural environment; that is, surrounded by obscene wealth and fixed grins.

To sweeten the deal, this lot were convening on Bastion, of all places.

Thus it transpired that Laguz arrived not with a polite little smile, but the wide, satisfied smirk of a Sith who’d just tortured the living daylights out of a Jedi Master. Didn’t enter through the front door, either; Bastion was, after all, xir old stomping ground. The core of the fortress-planet was drilled through-and-through like a rotten apple, riddled with tunnels and secret passages that served many a dark purpose.

Even so, Laguz wasn’t using them as a black site. Not today, at least. They were simply the most expedient, convenient, and subtle way to slither into a party this size. Suit tailored to a T, keen green eyes, a touch of groomed beard. He looked more than presentable, this man whose identification clearly stated him to be one ‘Caleen Sarkath’. His daddy was the magnate Oran Sarkath, a major shareholder in a vast array of pan-galactic industries and concerns.

This ball was his playground.

[member="Maleagant"]

Darth Caecus · Mar 19, 2017

Kith wasn't entirely certain she saw the point of all of this. But [member="Ignus"] had asked her and she had agreed. Partly out of curiosity. Partly because why not? And partly because it was obvious that he wanted her to say yes.

She had been left behind when they had descended on Bastion. Safe. Secure. He hadn't been willing to bring her- not yet, he'd said. There would be time, he'd said. It hadn't particularly bothered her. She knew that she still had so much to learn. She had practiced in his absence, gaining more confidence in the Force, but still.... she had so far to go.

Leos had abandoned her again, to prepare for the evening, but she didn't mind that either. She could keep herself entertained well enough- there were more people to watch than she was accustomed to. And getting ready for the evening was an adventure all on its own.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "Is this right?"

The woman who was there to help her nodded, beaming. "It is and you look lovely."

She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"If you say so," she said, and shrugged, rising from the seat.

"Ignus said he would come back to get you, Miss Verloren....."

"I believe I can find the hall on my own, thank you."

"But-"

The door closed before she could finish it, and a ghost of a smile flickered over Kith's face as she moved silently down the hall and toward the sounds of the gathering.

*****

Some of her calm failed her in small, almost inconspicuous ways when she stepped into the large room however. She paused in the doorway, hesitant. There were more people gathered in one place than she'd seen before. It took her a moment to fully register the sensation creeping through her.

She was self conscious.

Long silver-blonde hair had been swept up into a twist at the back of her head. She had chosen her dress from the options for one reason- she was certain of the colour. But now she wasn't sure if it had been the right choice as blue-grey eyes scanned the room, looking for the only familiar face she knew.

Kamon's OOC · Mar 20, 2017

Leos finished his conversation with the DJ droid, instructing him on the sort of music that would be played, and took a moment to survey those gathered so far. Aside from the non-sith he'd invited, a few people were starting to show up. Most of them he wasn't familiar with. A tall, pale skinned woman, [member="Satia"], was over near the food with a very short, also mostly pale skinned woman, @Moria. The two seemed to possibly be conversing over the food. [member="Antherion"] entered and nodded to him, to which Leos nodded in return before the man made his way over towards the bar to get himself a libation. Considering he'd paid for the expensive stuff, it was a good call on his part.

[member="Dravis Rosilla"] and [member="Maleagant"] were also at the bar getting a drink. A man who looked vaguely familiar, [member="Damien Daemon"], stood off to one side reading a book. Very interesting indeed. He'd have to inquire about that at a later time. Books were a hobby of his, after all. Another person he didn't know, [member="Laguz Vald"], was also milling about. So far, none of the people he'd expected to show up had, but it was early. There was still time for that.

Speaking of time, he pushed his left sleeve up and took a look at his chrono. He was supposed to go pick Kith up and bring her to the party once everything was settled. It seemed to be settled now, and given the time, he decided he ought to go. Turning towards the door, he suddenly froze in place as the song changed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9cZSLfh7Xw

There, standing in the door, was [member="Kith Verloren"], done up in a beautiful white and lavender dress with her golden locks twisted up behind her head. She was, to put it simply, stunning. His eyes were as wide as saucer plates and he slowly kicked himself into gear and walked over to her. He weaved his way between the various different people that were currently occupying the party space, completely oblivious to all of them as he approached her.

"Kith, you look-" He struggled to find the right word and ultimately settled on one that just wasn't enough. "Beautiful."

It was the best he could do. He offered her his hand, intending to lead her into the party, and didn't say a word about her coming alone. Though he'd told her he would pick her up, she was free to do as she wished, just as he'd told her before. Besides, she was there. Scolding her would serve no purpose, and she'd been perfectly safe anyway.

Otho Rendoro · Mar 20, 2017

By the bleeding roots of Ithor, a ball on Bastion? A superb opportunity to dress in something a bit more cheerful than the simple, dour robes of acolytes. The initial invasion and now it was time for the elite of the invasion force to celebrate. Otho had to requisition multiple bolts of fabric to cover his massive frame; the pattern, far from disgusting him, delighted the Ithorian to no end. He had worn bright clothing in the workshop on Taris, opting for less conspicuous attire when he fled after sending Yamilla Melnic on a one-way ticket to hell. The harlequin pattern danced playfully along the flowing tunic, orange and silver diamonds joining each other in merriment. He had synched his waist with a brown belt that hung jauntily off his hips with simple, chocolate colored slacks and simple sandals that covered his odd feet, three toes up front and a digit in the rear for balance.

Otho’s statuesque legs carried him easily into the ballroom, the synthetic music and vinyl drums pounding a tasteful, danceable beat that maybe he would have graced with a simple yet emotive two-step if his stomach hadn’t been so flipping empty. The Sith Ascendancy did not stock its larders with him in mind and Otho testily wondered if he was the only insectivore on Bastion. He hadn’t seen any Kubaz since leaving Taris, so maybe he was. But, this was a party and he lumbered his wait to an array of food. He could smell cooked meats and vegetables as his eyes drifted over the elegant form of [member="Satia"], her porcelain skin and alabaster hair contrasting aesthetically with her black ensemble. A truly diminutive red-haired female talked with the ivory giantess and Otho briefly wondered if there was a correlation between height, gender and membership in the Sith. Such mathematical musings were pushed out of his mind as he passed the pair, his eyes scanning the assembled table. There were lean cuts of red meat and sauces, but there was nothing that resembled the head, thorax and abdomen of an ant-fly. Ant-flies roasted in honey, ant-flies in a red wine reduction, ant-fly sashimi. Otho’s stomach rumbled in jealousy as he searched, rooting in vain and out of a lost hope, as he readied himself for yet another salad.

Ras'kala'han · Mar 21, 2017

Antherion smiled as the droid poured him a glass of bubbling juice, enjoying a moment of antisocial estrangement from his current place and time - his mind freely ran with the currents of the tune, running along the straight-line walls of notes and pulsing with the beats, drifting in the ocean of all the possibilities the future held: a future where he was free from what entangled him, free to do as he pleased, free from all the prisons he had been surrounded with for his entire life.

Had he ever been free? Was this all just him following his father's footsteps, four thousand years after the man had died and been forgotten? Was it worth it, losing the one being who truly fascinated him - turning her against him, killing her? What would it have been like to not live like this? To not have to justify himself to himself, to not have to worry about the power that so consumed him and swelled within him, that demanded more and more or it would rip him open and bleed him dry?

He was a cold man. He would not fret or weep for loss, but he was greatly perturbed by this line of thought. Pushing his glass away from him, he immediately ordered a clear, strong cocktail with a bitter taste that lingered in his mouth. He downed the glass so quickly he nearly gagged, and ordered another. He could easily summon the Force to flush it out of his system...

...but this was a night where it would be better to leave it inside him. Let him for once, forget.

Clutching his cane close to him, he tapped his way over to a face familiar to him -- and one who would find him familiar. [member="Otho Rendoro"].

"We've both come a ways from Malachor. I trust you find these festivities more authentic then those of the 'Unchained', eh, Ithorian?" He smiled wryly. He wasn't drunk, yet still his hands shook.

Darth Osano · Mar 24, 2017

Maleagant now noticed an under-dressed man in one of the room's corners. He was, for some reason, reading. Maleagant was far from sociable himself, but even he knew better than to sit around at parties reading. From this distance he couldn't tell what the book was. He could, however, see how carefully the man was tracing each line with a finger and that he had to mouth the words as he read them. Someone had certainly chosen an interesting venue to, by appearances, teach themselves how to read. How someone so functionally illiterate even processed their invitation...

Something more important caught his eye. Namely, Caleen Sarkath, the heir to the Sarkath investment fortune. The Sith criminal tensed considerably at the sight of him, then narrowed his eyes. Was this a joke? Oron's son should have been plenty of places, but this wasn't one of them. How that simpering fool had gotten his grimy hands on an invitation...Well, it didn't matter. He must have chickened out. Again, and now Caleen's presence here was meant to inform Maleagant of the fact. How did the old saying go? If you want something done right, better do it yourself.

Or give the younger Sarkath the proper encouragement his father seemed incapable of.

Fury lit Maleagant's eyes as he departed from the bar, drink held in a vice grip as he locked on to Caleen. He crossed the floor in several purposeful steps before arriving in front of him.

"Caleen." He said the words flatly, dispensing the pleasantries in light of the young man's apparent failure. "How was your trip?"

[member="Laguz Vald"]

Poe · Mar 25, 2017

The music stopped, putting a frown upon my face, forcing me to walk around a bit. Stopping to admire some art décor on the eastern side wall, I felt the presence of another move toward me. When she spoke, I took stock in her appearance. First thing I noticed how short she was, but to her defense I'm exceptionally tall myself. The second observation I made was how stunningly beautiful she was; with those reddish-yellow eyes, long silky red hair, and her smooth icy blue skin. But it was her species that attracted the most curiosity out of me. I'm still learning more and more about the several different species roaming the galaxy, and whatever species she was; this woman represented them well.

"I don't eat fish, my diet consists of something entirely different. But I will take you at your word." I remembered the two purple fruit-like food in my hand. The mere thought of eating those or fish or anything from that buffet turned my stomach. "Do you like art," I asked turning back toward the picture. "With so much ugliness in the galaxy, it's quite refreshing to see someone take the liberty to actually paint the galaxy in a different point of view, do you agree?"

Before she could reply, I quickly added, "Manners. I'm still learning them if I truly ever do. My name is Satia. And you are?"

[member="Moria"]

Ever Dawnracer · Mar 25, 2017

"Something different?"

That was interesting indeed. If what she wanted wasn't here, and she didn't like fish, could it be she ate the flesh of sapient beings? That was disturbing even for me. Of course I didn't act like it was, choosing to eat a piece of meat from off the plate. It wasn't the best thing I'd ever tasted, but it would suffice for now. The hunger I felt inside was for something else entirely, but the chances of finding a source for that here were minimal. Frankly, I could survive a little while longer without having to drain someone. Maybe I'd take someone with me when I left? One of these mundane beings with no connection to the Force.

The tall woman asked about art and I turned to look at it. Then she said her name. Interesting. I wouldn't have picked such a name for her, but then it implied satiation, and if she was the type to eat people, then it was a fitting name. How curious.

"My name is Moria. It's nice to meet you, Satia. As for art, I'm not sure. I haven't had much experience with it."

That much was true. I hadn't exactly been to many museums or anything in my time.

"What's so fascinating about it?"

[member="Satia"]

Via Dolorosa · Mar 30, 2017

With a gesture of her hand the doors slid apart granting her access to the party. Early on in her life that would have been an act beneath her, abusing the power bestowed to you was a lesson her former Master specifically forbidden. Now, the Dagobah Witch didn't care. She earned the right to act and conduct in a manner fitting to her. Her life had been wrapped in turmoil, yet she survived where others did not. The hearing of the collapse of the One Sith from exile tugged her into two emotional directions.

She was glad they were no more. Once loyalty to their cause, she soon fell out of favor with them. Did she care, no. Their collapse was eminent with to many voices tugging to many strings on to many puppets. She was right to betray them, then leave them in her wake. They hunted her, even destroying what she had created for them, in vain crusades to eradicate her association with them. Yes, she was glad they were gone.

On the other dimension of this emotional rollercoaster ride, she was sad. Sad because she had been robbed of bringing that empire done. Robbed of her own crusade of vengeance, destruction, and slaughter. Regardless, the deed was done and the One Sith put out to pasture.

And now, on the world of Bastion, days from her returned self-induced exile she was standing among the Sith once more. Not the One Sith, but a new Order of Sith, names and faces she distantly remembered. Others, new to her. This Sith Ascendancy was a new concept to her, despite not wishing to align herself with the Sith again she discovered this was far more acceptable than the alternative of loneliness. More so now that her Daughter had been snatched and taken from her. This was the roots of her return, to find her Daughter and punish those that have foolishly taken the young girl, unfortunately that search would be a work in progress.

The galaxy, with or without her, would always change. Darth Venefica never realized how much it changed without her.

Laguz Vald · Apr 1, 2017

Could be said he was mingling so well he might as well have stuck a spoon in his backpocket. (Not that he had a backpocket in this attire. Designer clothes were never useful.) Didn’t matter though. He could very well stuff pilfered objects of value into his own body, if it came down to that. So far nothing had caught his keen eye, but he was leaving his options open. Worst came to worst, he could still bolt for the window and disappear into the night.

Because this… this wasn’t the kind of ball where you wanted to stick around for the afterparty. Laguz couldn’t help but remember all the bloody feasts that the Primeval had held on this very same world. Executions, public torture, dark magic… yeah, wasn’t pretty, that. Back then, the One Sith were the guests of honor while wild mages from the fringes of space played hosts.

Now it was the Ascendancy that had taken over the planet from scattered remnants of the Mandalorian clans. Not a bad choice, Laguz had to commend them on that—

A voice with the texture and temperature of a snake cut his train of thought.

The assassin closed his eyes, measuring the seconds until his response turned from prompt to impolite.

“You?” Caleen’s smile was watery, corners twitching. Like his muscles didn’t agree with the espression. “What’s it to you how my trip was like?” The rich brat scoffed, then covered the sound with a hearty sip from his glass.

[member="Maleagant"]

Darth Osano · Apr 1, 2017

Something was off with Caleen's face. Well, more than usual. On their first meeting Maleagant had failed to register it, but with each consecutive rendezvous (each consecutive failure) Maleagant found himself increasingly struggling with the urge to punch the younger Sarkath square in the jaw. There would have been no point to it, though, and doing so would only further strain the tenuous arrangement between the Syndicate and the Sarkaths. Then again, Sarkath inability to act was not doing it any favors either. Nor was this round of scoffing and obnoxious sipping. Maleagant's features hardened into a considerable scowl. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking at them.

There were two young women staring at Caleen from opposite sides of the bar.

Typical.

Too far away to hear, though, so Maleagant launched right into it. "Don't play dumb," he said in a low tone. "Why aren't you on Entralla?"

[member="Laguz Vald"]

Laguz Vald · Apr 1, 2017

Laguz stalled for time like the consummate professional he was: he ignored the striped ratattaki and flashed his best seductive grin at the two salivating dames. Clearly the Sith were – typical – too busy with conquest to get a good frak on. Such a shame. They had to be blind, or, far more likely, simply got their rocks off torturing people in Bastion’s abundance of dungeons. All the better for him, though; you wouldn’t believe the secrets bored wives could spill in post-orgasmic bliss.

But back to the topic.

Lazy as a cat in the sun, Caleen stretched out to drop his empty glass on the bar. He winked at the blushing waitress as he motioned for a double refill. Then, finally, he deigned to address the annoyance incarnate.

“Entralla?” he parroted with a sweet smile, mouthing a thank you to the blonde when she leaned over the counter to give him the Corellian brandy. Nice cleavage, that.

Laguz blinked away. Focus. “And why, pray tell, would I be there?”

Just his luck, that he should pick the one heir that was embroiled in dirty business. Unless, of course, the whole family was. In which case he clearly needed to get his head back into the information game. Once, something this big wouldn’t have escaped him.

[member="Maleagant"]

Ascendancy: The Victors Ball

Well-Known Member

ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs

By Candlelight

Well-Known Member

тнє ναмριяє ℓσя∂

Ever Dawnracer

Guest

Darth Osano

Guest

Adapt or perish

Once again, to War

Well-Known Member

Renegade and Terrorist

ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs

Darth Osano

Guest

тнє ναмριяє ℓσя∂

Ever Dawnracer

Guest

Amans In Tenebris

Adapt or perish

Darth Osano

Guest

Adapt or perish

Similar threads

Users who are viewing this thread