Faction Coruscanti Nights

[Avernus]

Spoiler

// RIC FLAIR DRIP GO WOO ON A WOMAN OF ILL REPUTE //
// DRIP //
// Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //
​

"Of course not," Avernus muttered. "What do you take me for, someone who would intentionally fabricate a poor product? Those are quality cosmetic lenses. If you weren't so stubborn about the eyedrops you wouldn't be having this issue," a half-scowl materialized over his face as he responded. His scolding glare concluded prematurely as Lucien Dooku approached Lyra. His eyes bounced quickly back and forth between the exiled prince of Serenno and his apprentice.

The rather handsome young man appeared to be in the early stages of 'shooting his shot' as the kids called it. Normally he might have been a little offended that he went so easily unnoticed, especially considering the drip he'd procured for this event. But, it oddly didn't bother him in this instance. Just an easier opportunity to slip away for a moment. He winked at his apprentice before moving deeper into the Great Hall. What Irveric Tavlar doesn't know, won't hurt him.

Avernus began to make his way through the gala. He'd mostly been looking for anyone he knew, despite the fact that no one aside from a handful of individuals would recognize him in this state. He even walked right by Ryv Karis, who would have known who he was under different, red and wrinkly circumstances. Instead, the two of them simply exchanged nods as 'strangers' who'd accidentally made eye contact. Attendees were still arriving, and as such Avernus failed to really find more than a small handful of people he recognized.

Time to wait by the open bar.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple
Great Hall
Fox On The Run
Focus // Avernus Lucien Dooku

---

---

“The ingredients in those drops-” Lyra ground out. She was frankly ready to verbally spar on the matter-but any testament fell short as she followed Avernus’ gaze; feeling a set of eyes on her person. If she kept trying to pick at her eyes they’d be swollen shut before the night’s end. Her brows furrowed as she turned to find Lucien Dooku himself. Her attentions were splintered, catching the tail end of Avernus slipping away with his wink fueling a fresh wave of annoyance; a noise of disbelief escaping her. Traitor, the suggestiveness. He had dragged her all the way here to abandon her in the throes of pageantry?

Why had she expected anything better of the torturing lechero-That was not what they had agreed upon, and Lyra stewed quickly fixing her gaze back on Lucien. His little salute was met by a meager frown, and she bobbed her head in greeting. It was almost charming but the sparkling lights irritated her eyes and she masked the twitch her hand behind another sip of the spirits.

“The one and only..” she said, mustering a small smile. Somewhere along Imperial operations she had seen his face. As she considered the connections, his words almost fell deaf on her ears. Had it been JanFathal’s summit or somewhere else she had seen his face though? Lyra had been more concerned with the Corp’s then sticking her nose into the politics.

She shamelessly glanced around, no direct distraction presenting itself and Avernus had truly well dipped out. He was an Imperial ally and she'd have give him that. She was acting a bit too cut and dry and Lyra forced her shoulders to relax. The goblet was traded between her hands and the woman shook his hand firmly; resigning herself. Dooku, and Lyra hummed recognizing the name faintly. Another exile of the ruling caste, but the lot of the New Order was in one way or another.

“Commander will suffice Lord Dooku, Mrs Voi’kryt is my mother,” Lyra parroted his words, she'd hate to be presumptuous about why he had actually approached her. Drowning the sour thoughts behind a longer drawl from the glass. He carried himself far too easily but that might of been rude of her. “It's Lyra if you must. It is a pleasure to make proper acquaintance, forgive me though can you tell me where we have met previously? I can’t place it and I hate the mystery.”

 

[FN-999]

LOCATION: JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
OBJECTIVE: Um.... diplomacy?!?!?
CHATTING WITH: Elias Vati | OPEN TO OTHERS
EQUIPMENT: Riot baton, armor Dress suit, hat and shoes (unsuitable for combat)

The trooper briefly froze up as he realized that someone was talking to him.
​

"Military right?" He asked as he stood adjacent to him. "Don't worry, I'm law enforcement. Basically the same, I'm just as lost as you are."

FN-999 carefully turned to the man next to him. He seemed to fit the bill of a law enforcement official, with a suit that seemed as odd on a person of such a position as FN-999's dress suit felt on himself. Realizing that he had been staring at the man, FN-999 rapidly regained his composure and replied to the man before him.

"Yep, I'm part of the New Imperial Military. I was sent here to represent the Stormtrooper Corps, though I'd rather have at least my chestplate. Without my armor, I just look like a low-ranked nobleman."

Everything he had stated was true - FN-999 longed for nothing more than to be concealed within his armored shell. He didn't even care if some Alliance hotshot called him a "buckethead", as the trooper had little concern about his dignity while he wore the suit he prized so dearly. Without it, he felt a constant sense of unease and discomfort. He was normally an ambivert, but the nervousness that came to him when he imagined himself talking to someone with his skin so lightly covered had made him shy.

Yet, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit comforted by the other man's presence. It seemed as if he was just as out of place in the fancy gala as the stormtrooper was. For a moment, he felt something resembling empathy being sent between the two. Then, he remembered. There was no logical reason that either of them could either feel empathy towards each other. In his service as a First Order stormtrooper, FN-999 and his squad had eliminated hundreds of Alliance soldiers without a second thought, serving only the will of the Supreme Leader. In return, FN-999 had lost countless squadmates to Alliance soldiers.

While the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance met under terms of peace, the stormtrooper understood the future of the two organizations better than many of their own politicians. While he might have been mentally manipulated as a First Order trooper, FN-999's down-to-earth intuition as a soldier allowed him to see through the flattering words of the political elite on both sides. Once the common Sith enemy was destroyed, he suspected that the Order would turn on the Alliance and bring the entire galaxy under their order. Of course, FN-999 had no qualms about such an ordeal, as he trusted the NIO's ability to force security and justice upon the galaxy. However, it made speaking with the Alliance-aligned agent much more ominous. Would the stormtrooper lieutenant one day stick a bullet in the head of the Alliance operative in front of him? In an attempt to throw his thoughts off of the chaos and warfare that would soon be necessary to bring order upon the galaxy, FN-999 resumed the conversation.

"You seem like you're from the Alliance, or at least associated with them." stated FN-999 cautiously, trying to prevent the topic from taking a less pleasant turn. "What's your name?"

 

[Adhira Chandra]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple
Great Hall
Emmen Tagge // Tyrell Paxxus // Ryv // Custani Valcho

The Great Hall of the Jedi Temple was one of the few places left mostly intact during the intervening years of regime change on Coruscant. The rest of the temple was being renovated and was mostly in utter disarray, but basking in the golden light that filled the hall, seeing the elegant dignitaries mingle, and listening to the distant sound of a string quartet, one could easily have mistaken it for the ballroom of a royal palace. Adhira had selected a glittering gold gown with a sapphire sash pinned to her chest by an elaborate ruby-encrusted broach in the shape of the Galactic Alliance emblem. When she moved the metallic thread of the dress caught the light and twinkled gently.​

​

The Balmorran was perched on a slightly raised dais that overlooked the main assemblage of guests and was sipping a bright red Naboo vintage when the Chancellor approached. She nodded her head reverently at his kind words. "Thank you, Emmen... I suppose I always did have a penchant for party planning," she drank deeply from the crystal flute, "mm - but really, it did not require much. The Temple is rich with beauty, I can only imagine what it looked like in its prime." Adhira had merely sought to complement the existing elegance of the Great Hall rather than cover it up.​

​

"Ha - Yes, well, our corporate friends saw to it that the fight was hard-won. The cooperation between Gunray and Kiyoshi is deeply troubling...." she swirling the liquid in her glass, "I shudder to think what may have happened if Senator Tambor hadn't defected." The conversation was over as Ryv's slightly familiar voice rang out behind her. She couldn't help but smile at his rambunctiousness. The senator delightfully piled on to the Chancellor's praise.​

​

"It is us who should be thanking you, Jedi Knight," Adhira raised her half-empty glass to him before turning to face the sound of approaching footsteps. The Grand Vizier of their... allies... Tyrell Paxxus was greeting them. She had only half expected an official representative from the NIO to attend. Their alliance was one of convenience in her opinion, but not an unwelcome one. "Yes, it was so good of you to come all this way to support such a noble cause," she added as the Chancellor greeted their guest. However, as she opened her mouth to add to her welcoming words her eyes caught sight of Custani Valcho over their shoulders.​

​

If it weren't for her diplomatic training, Adhira's face would have been a vision of frustration. It was true the Confederacy and the Alliance were not officially enemies, but the CIS had forced them to spend billions of credits to construct a new trade route. She did not look wholly unkind, but her smile faded. "Hmm.. Viceroy. It's a wonder you were able to cross the border into Alliance territory without being taxed by your own government," she laughed as if the statement was in jest. "Ahem... I jest, of course. Please, enjoy the gala." Her eyes shifted briefly to meet Emmen's gaze.​

 

[Elias Vati]

Location: Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Wearing: Last Minute Suit
Tags: FN-999
​

Elias chuckled a bit when the trooper spoke about his insecurities without his chest plate, something Elias used to have after he transferred from CorSec. "It's weird being surrounded by those with a higher salary than you in a casual setting. Felt weird when I was in CorSec and its weirder now." It probably wasn't wise to joke about ones superiors especially to someone who had a completely distinct martial cultural than him. But he believed that no matter a soldier's upbringing they could supersede such differences. He then went to address his question about him "Elias Vati, sector ranger. Whenever the Alliance has a problem they want handled away from home they send us. Sometimes they make us work at the homefront." Elias smiled as the stormtrooper asked. "Lieutenant right?" He asked confidently. It was nice knowing that he caught someone the same rank as him. It was hard talking to those who were superior to you or you to them without prior context of knowing each other. He could tell with the trooper's mannerism that he seemed more than a capable soldier, but wasn't really comfortable living the officer life yet as most junior officers were. Elias could relate.

Guess he found the solidarity he lost a few moments ago. The trooper's background whatever it was was of no concern towards him, they were allies now so the past and future felt irrelevant to the lieutenant. The atmosphere gave him a sense of ecstasy that required him to have a fun time in this Gala. He already saw a lot of Alliance and Imperial people socializing with one another. Why not the grunts take some time to do the same and it was hard to hide his excitement around the stormtrooper officer. "So why do you think they chose you to come to the Gala?" Elias asked to strike up another topic of conversation.

 

[Aston Jacobs]

Coruscant
Jedi Temple-Hallways

The glass rose again to the lips of the man as his the fingertips of his free hand glided along the hallway corridor. He could hear laughter, but it wasn't anyone that was physically here. It was a glimpse into the past, the laughter of a young boy and girl that were sprinting towards the hallways towards the training room.

Wait up sis! The boy called from a few paces behind. Aston giggled slightly, if anyone on the outside could see him laughing at his own devices they might've thought he was crazy. When he thought back to those times, he was always behind his sister. Spencer Varanin was the one leading the way, and he gladly followed her where ever that place was going. Aston took another drink before he realized that was the last of it. He would need to double back and get another glass. However as he came to the entrance to the training room and made his way in. There were a few steps down that led to the center of one of the training pads.

Aston took a seat at the top of the step, as he glanced around, everything was still in remodeling mode. But it still looked good, he closed his eyes as he could heard the sounds of the training sabers that clashed against each other. And then the small grunts of pain that escaped the mouth of the young boy every time Spencer hit him with the training sabers. He really hoped this plan would come to fruition. If he had all the money in the world he would've gladly donated it to this cause. Not for personal recognition but for the Jedi, they were needed fully in the core worlds again. With the strength of the Alliance forces combined with a full fledged Jedi Council and if their numbers could grow like in the days of old. The sith would be outmatched, and then they could finally be defeated.

For all of his thoughts he felt that one was the biggest pipe dream of the all. Aston chuckled slightly as he stood up and opted to go get another drink. His next destination was to check out the personal quarters portion of the Temple. Perhaps even catch a glimpse of the Jedi Council room in the highest portion of the temple.

 

[Vaulkhar]

// Lord Executor Incognito //
// Jedi Temple // Coruscant //
// An Evening Out //
// Spencer Varanin //

​

A pair of crimson eyes watched the world of Coruscant flicker past from behind the transparisteel windows of a descending speeder. At the tender age of eighteen, Vaulkhar walked the "hallowed" halls of the Jedi Temple, then corrupted by the One Sith's influence and turned to a training ground for Sith reavers and murderers. It was there the Lord Executor encountered his first master. A saber was thrust into his hand almost immediately, the Sith Knight, Vengeance, introducing the wayward boy to Makashi in the most profound way possible. The duel saw Vaulkhar defeated, bested by duelist leagues beyond the Zambrano bastard. Still, the effect was lasting. Almost two decades had come and gone since that moment, with Vaulkhar dedicating his time and efforts to mastering the lightsaber over any other art. He held no respect for alchemists or sorcerers, considering them weak cowards, trapped within their lust for power. Yet, the fallen Jedi knew he wasn't one to speak. To those who traversed the refurbished temple's halls, his own journey could be described as indistinguishable to those he hated.

The moment the speeder leveled out, slowing to a stop at the edge of a long carpet laid out for the gala's illustrious guests, Vaulkhar took a deep breath. While he couldn't hide the truth of his existence as a wound to the more enlightened master's of the galaxy, he could quell the rage and hatred that once made up the entirety of his being. With the decision to soon find peace, a life away from war and death, Vaulkhar spent many hours meditating beside the master of mentalism, and mother of his child, Spencer. Through her guidance, the Executor learned to once more reach beyond just his hatred and anger. The light side of the force remained out of his reach, but the passions seeped in sorrow and strife no longer dominated his every waking moment. Such control required intense concentration on the fallen Jedi, so much so he regretted not yet regaining control over his emotions, but it wasn't something to be fixed at the moment. Instead, he lifted a small box from atop his lap.

"I cannot believe I will be wearing a pair of contact lenses," Vaulkhar grimaced, slowly but surely fitting the two objects in place over his burning orbs. He looked back at Spencer, the crimson replaced by an icy blue, the color of his eyes before the resurrection process. "I hope this will be enough. Between the contacts, my continued focus on empathy, and leaving the mask behind, I should be thoroughly incognito," his head slowly turned back to the window. "If others question who or what I am, it is best they believe I am the former Queen of Eshan's eye candy. Less questions to be asked," Vaulkhar took hold of the handle and pushed the speeder door open. He stepped beyond the interior, waiting beside the vehicle for Spencer to depart, a hand hovering out for her to take. "Why is it you wanted me to join you at this event? I do not imagine you intend on flaunting me to the upper echelons of galactic society, nor would you seek the Jedi's aid in dealing with my condition."

Vaulkhar closed the speeder door, momentarily catching a glimpse of his mostly-normal appearance. Angular features denoted his Epicanthix heritage, alongside the cascading black hair that fell to about his hips. Stylings of all kind kept his hair from hanging loosely around him, or from falling into his face, the many braids denoting cultural significance to the Iridonian Zabraks, Epicanthix warriors of Panatha, and even the Echani of Eshan. His robes were simplistic in comparison to the multitude of wealthy individuals walking past him and Spencer, but they got across what he wanted. In seeing the normality he presented, Vaulkhar felt the corner of his lips twitch, almost as if a sense of joy threatened to spill out of him. Unfortunately, nothing came. He turned away, offering Spencer the crook of his elbow, before slowly walking towards the temple's waiting entrance.

"It will be interesting to walk among the masses once more. Perhaps I can catch a glimpse of this Chancellor Tagge in person. They say he is everything Irveric Tavlar is not. An amusing proposition, wouldn't you say?"

 

[Raona Cadera]

Interacting: Cassius Callaesar

The Jedi Temple was a sight to behold. Restored by the Alliance after years of neglect and indiscriminate scavenging so she was surprised it looked as good as it did. It filled her heart nearly to bursting to see it this way after all these years. She'd given her "hellos" and her "how are yous" earlier in the event and had even spoken to a few Jedi and Jedi caretakers. Now she was trying to find a place to simply watch and observe until she was needed again. She dreadfully hated public appearances like this. Parties were such a task on her mental and emotional fortitude that she wished she could simply clone herself and allow that one to suffer. Of course, most cloning within the Galactic Alliance was illegal so she would never actually consider it but...The dream was there.

As she wandered the upper levels of the temple, admiring the remnants of Jedi art and some of the restoration work going on she spotted Cassius, his ever-present scowl in full force as he gazed down at the crowd. She felt the anger and suspicion in him as small ripples in the Force and smiled sadly to herself. Some people just couldn't stop working.

"High Admiral," she said as she approached him. "You can't hate them for enjoying a nice night," she said in a joking manner. "And your eyes aren't heavy turbolasers, try as you might."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Coruscant // Jedi Temple // Main Hall
Maynard Treicolt // Ryv ​

Never had the would-be Kiffar seen so much opulence in one place. The spectacle of Unity Day had been almost as colourful, and as splendorous, but not so expensive looking. There were more citizens and uniforms there. Here, those uniforms were made of silk and trimmed in gold. All the tailoring looked custom. There was something ironic about so much wealth on display for a religion that had formerly shunned the idea of materialism.

The volume of the room rose steadily as more and more people gathered together to exchange introductions, and stories. Indistinguishable babbling for the most part, unless one was close enough to another to overhear something intriguing. The walls that stretched above them were laden with history, thousands of narratives infused into the stones.

The architecture held little of her attention however, when there were other chiseled things to appreciate right next to her.

Like the temple all done up in decor, the pair of Commander and Captain had also — at least beyond the usual armour and fatigues. Not close to rivalling some of the garb within the walls, though. Loske’s hair was loose, similarly to the simple navy slip dress draped to her silhouette. Eyes were made and she gave a knowing shake of her head. “I’d like to wear this one at least twice, Treicolt.” Her teeth poked through her smirk and clinked against the edge of the glass she’d plucked from a circulating tray.

A stone’s throw backwards in time from this date wouldn’t have seen this medley of people. Senators, soldiers mixed with Imperials all for the benefit of The Jedi.

Their friend had been busy to secure the relationships necessary for The New Jedi Order to flourish. If it weren’t for Ryv’s tireless work, she wasn’t sure they’d be on this side of the equation. On the grand scale of things, and on the side that meant they’d had names on invitations rather than providing security detail.

Speak of the devil, the dark haired Knight managed to wrench himself from the clutches of handshakes and meandered in their direction.

She and her partner serendipitously nearby that western wall, where her fellow Kiffar chose to kick back. At least at this party the trio could be together, and not as strained as it had been between Honoghr and Unity Day.

“So this is what you’ve been up to.” The blonde interjected any reserved observations of their friend may be having in his solitude. That meeting on Coruscant almost a year or more ago had only been the beginning of collaborating with the galactic government. Now they were reciprocating.

A low, impressed whistle slipped through her teeth before delivering the understatement: “Adding event planning to your repertoire.

Man, if anyone needed to make an introduction or meet someone — tonight is the night. Good job, man.” She stopped just short of murmuring look at all these people.

Light eyes glanced over faces known and unknown, assessing how to best get involved.

“Look,” she looped an arm in against Maynard’s and leaned in to encourage the direction of his attention toward the gathering of Imperials. “Isn’t that Lucien? From JanFathal?”

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple
Great Hall - Upper Level
Drink & Observe
Raona Cadera | OPEN​

Lisza's voice suddenly coming from behind him catches Cassius off guard. His eyes open abruptly and he turns to face her, quickly straightening himself while doing his best to dismiss his thoughts to the back of his mind. Despite his position in the Admiralty of the Defense Force, he'd had very few encounters with the Diktat turned Vice Chancellor. The only Corellian politician he'd had the pleasure of worked alongside thus far was Senator Kiyoshi, but his brash and arrogant attitude seemed to the opposite of the Quarth's.

"Vice Chair," he answers flatly, lifting his glass as a casual greeting. His narrowed gaze wanders back to the guests below them, bouncing from person to person but paying little attention to the details of them. "Not hate. Trust me, I'm as genuinely pleased at this sight as most -- we have all worked hard to get us here; to earn the luxury of celebration. The people deserve this."

Despite the nature of his words, his expression remains cold and unenthused, "I just don't trust everyone who's here. The Sith Empire are conniving bastards, so I can only imagine they have eyes and ears poking around in here as we speak. And surely you've seen the reports of that terrorist cell resurfacing in Confederate space? The 'Agents of Chaos', as they call themselves. The ones from Alderaan."

By sheer luck, he happens across the sight of the Chancellor and Grand Vizier while lazily scanning the crowd as he speaks, "Then, of course, there's the presence of the New Imperials." His attention moves back to the Vice Chair, "Before I was recalled to oversee the Brentaal Quarantine Zone and High Admiral Pryce was assigned to the Sith-Imperial Front, I attended the initial briefing with the New Imperial Order. I'm sure it's no surprised, but Sith Lords were among their ranks."

Cassius draws a deep breath, stirring what remains of the rum in his glass with a circular motion of his hand to calm his rising anger, "Yes, we have a common enemy now. But, respectfully, I hope you and the Chancellor have a plan for when this rebellion is all said and done."

 

[FN-999]

LOCATION: JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
OBJECTIVE: Um.... diplomacy?!?!?
CHATTING WITH: Elias Vati | OPEN TO OTHERS
EQUIPMENT: Riot baton, armor Dress suit, hat and shoes (unsuitable for combat)​

"So why do you think they chose you to come to the Gala?" Elias asked to strike up another topic of conversation.

The question threw the trooper off guard, throwing his thoughts back into the present.​

"I could ask the same of you." replied FN-999 calmly. "As for myself, I guess they wanted one to use a literal stormtrooper to represent the Corps. Though it's still my belief that someone such as Legion Commander Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt would be a better choice, as she's in a position where she's both a Corps leader and a diplomatic official. In situations like this, I really wish I had her confidence."

Truthfully, FN-999 didn't know the Legion Commander too well. She was usually involved in more urgent matters than himself, and as a mere lieutenant, it was nearly impossible to get a private audience with her. But from what FN-999 had seen of her capabilities in combat, she could easily be considered a respectable warrior and commander. He had read up on the battle logs from Mygeeto and Munnilinst, and she seemed to have played a significant role in maintaining the front. If anyone were to represent the Stormtrooper Corps, it would be one of its highest-ranked officers.

Yet the trooper's thoughts fell back to why the Corps would need to be represented in the first place, regardless of who represented it. Perhaps it was to assure the Alliance that the New Imperials had a strong and diverse armed force, but FN-999 did not see himself as the most appropiate canidate for such. After all, he had fought the Galactic Alliance less than a decade prior, on Skor II and countless other worlds. The new Alliance that had risen from the ashes of the old seemed to share the same intentions for the galaxy, from the ideas of excessive freedom and liberation thrown around in their gala. He knew that if the Imperial higher-ups were anything like the former First Order, then this "alliance" would likely only be a scheme to expend Alliance resources before turning on them the moment the Sith had fallen.

Yet for now, FN-999 continued to maintain a calm posture and a casual facade.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Having successfully infiltrated the party, Isaiah soon found himself the center of many people's attention. Much like any beings of high wealth, they looked down upon those who didn’t act as they did, who didn’t outright present themselves in an ostentatious manner. Yet none would dare approach the goliath of a man. Towering over some of the crowd, Isaiah made his way through the throng of people ignoring the mutterings and whispers about him. How he didn’t fit in, and questions of who had invited him.

I invited myself, you karking wankers. The exile thought with a roll of his eyes. Tuning out the voices of the denizens, Isaiah took in the rebuilt Jedi temple. As he stood there and cast a glance up to the ceiling he could feel small waves of the light washing over him, welcoming him and attempting to drive away what bit of his high he had left. While not as strong as it had been in past generations the temple was sure to reach such heights once more, if the Alliance could hold onto the world, and the Jedi not fail once again.

Exhaling with a heavy sigh, Isaiah flicked his index and middle finger. From a nearby tray being carried by a server, a glass of semi-translucent liquid was lifted free. Finding its way to the summoner’s hand, Isaiah looked over at the shocked waiter who looked for the culprit.

Without even raising the glass to his lips, Isaiah could smell the overpowering fragrance. It smelled like a bouquet of freshly picked flowers. Taking a sip, the wine possessed a sweet, almost honey-like flavor. For someone looking for a more flavorful drink it would perhaps have been delicious. For Isaiah he sought something a lot stronger. At least he was till something, or someone else caught his attention. ( Loske Treicolt ) Watching the woman walk past in the navy slip was enough to change the direction the exile walked.

Downing what remained of the glass the Jedi without care tossed the glass over his shoulder. Hurtling through the air it went. The server spotting the glass moved to catch it, walking back and forth beneath the spinning glass an arm outstretched. Then it slowed, lowering itself at a feather’s pace and landing on the tray. Releasing a sigh the waiter turned, only for the glass to tilt over knocking into the others and sending them all sprawling to the floor.

Hands rubbing together, Isaiah approached the woman and the person accompanying her. He took the other in from behind, someone of smaller stature, but still possessed an impressive physique. Yet, why did they seemingly ring a bell?

“Exc-” Isaiah started before what had been a faint tingling at the back of his neck grew insistent. Head-turning to the man accompanying the female Jedi, Isaiah’s eyes widened. He’d know that mug anywhere. “Well if it isn’t the bloody invisible bastard! Where in the hell have you been?" Remembering just where they were, and the type of event, another question rose up. "Just what are you doing here anyways? You were never the snooty type."

Maynard Treicolt | Ryv

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

H I G H L I G H T S

Didn't seem like that long ago the Alliance was consolidating here with another special occasion in mind. Unity Day. It wasn't an event Maynard was going to live down for a long while. Within it, the spotlight was on him twice over after receiving a medal of valor and then being knighted on stage each both dominated the spectacle for a brief moment in time. Even if the man of far more humble origins than the elite on Coruscant was frankly terrified by the thought, his nerves wore off in the end.

Now, he was offered the reprieve of blending in among everyone else. He wasn't the biggest name, there was nothing about him that demanded the attention of anyone outside of his partner and his closest friends spread among the patrons. Just as he preferred it.

"What was it you wanted again?" The barkeep asked, arching a brow to the Jedi Knight who donned the tan and blue of a Alliance officer, the rank indicator of commander brazen over his left breast. Ripping Maynard's attention from his glance to Loske his eyes widened for a moment before he nodded.

"Uhh- yeah. Two glasses of Meranzane, if you have it." Maynard said, slowly producing a creditstick from his coat pocket as the barkeep nodded, turning to take up a bottle before pouring out two glasses on the counter.

"Didn't take you for that kind of drinker, Commander. Regardless, that's eighty a glass." The barkeep stated flatly, drawing a low 'eighty a class' of shock from under Maynard's breath. Slowly, he swapped that Galactic Standard chit for an AvCoin© coupon.

"Well I have...good memories attached to it, we'll say that. How about-...you take AvCoin©?" Maynard says, managing to escape the transaction offering up the cryptocurrency in place of the Galactic Standard mint.

Returning to Loske's side he offered up one of the glasses of liquor before he drank down a sip of his own.

“I’d like to wear this one at least twice, Treicolt.”

Maynard responded with a grin as he delved into drinking another sip of the expensive liquor, briefly mulling over his response.

"That a challenge?" Maynard retorts, wiping his lips clean of the familiar taste of the liquor, offering a toothsome grin to her has he set an arm around her hip before the pair came upon Ryv, his expression lighting up at the sight of his friend and brother-in-arms. Finally, away from the front, away from the perils of being a Jedi Knight. Maynard certainly looked shades better than the last Ryv saw of him on Muunilinst, his skin bruised and burned from the battle before Loske mended the flesh upon his return.

"Well- it's Ryv. Anytime he sets his mind to anything he nails it, just how it is." Maynard stated with a shrug before the nudge from Loske shifted his gaze in the direction of Lucien and the accompanying Imperials. He recognized the fellow spacer immediately from when they'd met prior to the start of the Braxant Campaign. They'd spoken sparingly on the front since, never the less. A friend. Finishing his glass he offered it up to a passing tray of similar empty glasses with a nod.

"That does seem to be THE Lucien Dooku himself, should've known he'd be coming around to here. Can't say I'm too surprised. Wouldn't mind seeing what he's been kicking around since Muu-." Maynard said, his eyes widening as he was pulled to turn around with a strong grip around his shoulder.

“Exc-”

“Well if it isn’t the bloody invisible bastard! Where in the hell have you been?"

"Just what are you doing here anyways? You were never the snooty type."

The voice was almost immediately recognizable, even if both of them had seen their inflection change over time since they'd abandoned the golden fields of Concord Dawn. Immediately recognizing Priest, Maynard's expression lit up again with a faint laugh of disbelief. Maynard was certainly tough, with the build of someone who'd worked the fields and had their mettle tested in combat but THE Isaiah Priest was a different animal.

"Priest! You son of a queen!" Maynard says, reaching a hand out to clasp with his before he smacks the other along the Mandalorian's back. As soon as he encountered another Concordian, a bit more of his roots bleeded back into his inflection, even if the backwoods dialect shared among many of the non-creedborn Mandalorians planetside didn't reflect in Isaiah's voice.

"I mean- hey, listen. Ol' Treicolt is moving up in the galaxy. Alliance Commander, Jedi Knight, brushing shoulders with the Galactic elite, what can I say." Maynard said, posturing his arms out in a faux boasting shrug. Even in his formal military uniform as a Jedi, in the Jedi Temple, Maynard always found a way for his humble origins to make him out of place in some form.

"But hey, good to see you finally found your way here, man. Really. It's been the best stop I've made since I ditched the Jedi originally. Lot of good folk. Real purpose again, ya know?" Maynard says before he turns back to Ryv and Loske, gesturing toward the two with an outreached arm.

"But yeah, this is my...girlfriend, The Loske Matson. Her and me run Saber Squadron, don't tell her that she's a better ace though, I gotta have some reason to retain my CO spot. She basically does all the work." He says with a teasing grin, proclaiming the title for her outloud for the first time. All the while unable to help himself from wrapping an arm around his partner before he motions the free hand to Ryv.

"And of course, The Sword of the Jedi himself, Ryv Karis. You're not gonna find anyone more dedicated and reliable than him. You're just not. He might not be any Grandmaster but he might as well be running the whole New Jedi Order himself, I swear. " Maynard said, offering a look to Ryv that said 'don't try and say you aren't.'

"And of course to the both of you, the corn fed mountain of muscle himself. Isaiah of Clan Priest. A fellow wayward Jedi hailing from Concord Dawn." Maynard says, finally completing the three introductions. It was clear he already had his fair share of liquor in his system by how outgoing he was acting.

Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Warchief Waddles | Lucien Dooku | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Zaavik Perl]

// Streaky //
// Allyson Locke / Open //
​

Coruscanti traffic was a nightmare. Zaavik never really understood why people didn't just fly around the deadlock and instead stayed in the skylane. Then again, that was probably one the reasons he didn't have a speeder license. His feet were kicked up on the top of the taxi's passenger seat, the rest of him slouched in the back seat. He'd been idly swiping through spacebook to pass the time. He was practically in autopilot, much like a droid, zoned out and waiting to arrive. The sudden chime of receiving a message snapped him out of it.

<Allyson_Locke: Where are you? I'm here already.>

< . . . >

<RedGangRealest69: We should have taken the same Taxi. Traffic only just started moving.>
​

It'd be several more minutes before he could even see the temple in the distance. He pulled his feet down and sat up straight. He'd dust off the formal attire he'd had tailored for the gala. A second dust-over to make extra sure he'd cleared it of any crumbs from the Huttaburger he'd gotten along the way. Going back to his comm device he'd send one more message.

<RedGangRealest69: About to take the sky-exit now.>
​

As the speeder taxi pulled up, Zaavik slid a few credits through the slot of the security divider between himself and the driver. Grabbing his Huttaburger cup he'd sip the last remainder of his drink, the reverberating slurp from inside the cup rudely assaulting the driver's ears. "Thanks, Chief," he extended a flat thanks to the driver as he exited the cab. Conveniently leaving his empty cup behind as not to have to awkwardly look for a trashcan.

"Whaddup boss- I mean, Master," he greeted his master casually once he'd finally found his way over to her. She'd waited by the door this whole time? He was surprised she hadn't already found her way to Ryv by now and gotten lost in the sea of patrons and fraternizers.

 

[Gat Tambor]

D A Y _ N _ N I T E

Ah yes, another Gala. It seemed politicians would make up any excuse to do nothing at all and brush elbows with one another in drunken revelry. Gat Tambor was never a man to enjoy these sorts of events all too much. After all, confined to his atmospheric pressure suit it was difficult for the Skakoan to really...enjoy any nitrogen rich atmosphere to which just about uhhh the rest of the Galaxy was able to. Regardless, it didn't stop Gat from taking idle amusement in the people watching.

Now? Check the time...EIGHT hours into a microdose session of Mind Spiral. It was, by all accounts, the only means he could tolerate the upper echelons of society. At the onset of each Viceroyalty session he attended and each assembly of the Senate, he made sure to start slowly siphoning the hardcore psychedelic through his methane re-breather. Though by now, it had less than a profound effect on him than it would for the first time or beginning user of the substance. If anyone, it merely distorted the mortal realm to be something akin to a hallucinatory wonderland. Choosing not quite yet to regard anyone in conversation as of yet, the only person he'd directly acknowledged being Avernus within his new body and for right now? His alter ego. Of course the Skakoan was one of the few privy to the fact that the Sith was indeed still alive.

All the while Gat Tambor merely idly hovered himself through the main hall, glancing between the patrons with his wide, beady golden eyes in absent curiosity, his social decorum all but vanishing in place of a serene psychedelic trek. In spite of being surrounded by so many people, he might as well had been alone lest someone attempt to jostle him out of his state of nigh walking slumber.

 

[Dianna Blissex]

AN ABSOLUTE BLUNDER

 

[Raona Cadera]

Lisza took position up alongside Cassius and leaned on the railing, holding her glass of wine in her right hand. She swirled the wine in the glass as she listened to Cassius and smiled sadly to herself, her eyes falling to the crowd below. What he said rang true and they were all things that they were talking about behind closed doors.

"The Agents of Chaos are...a concern. Especially with the Forgotten Sons on Corellia and other various pro-Imperial groups floating around. The CIS isn't always Just but the idea of having an outside force influence and take action within a nation's borders...I sympathize with their plight." Especially with reports of the Twi'lek terrorists making waves on Ryloth over the last month. The thought of the Forgotten Sons making large moves again funded by whatever seemingly bottomless coffers the AoC had to offer...Well it terrified her.

"As for the Imperials, I am of the same mind. We Corellians have no love for those of the Sith Empire. They may pose as rebels as much as they want but as far as I'm concerned we never should have joined this war to begin with. They may be acting as allies now, as you've said, but they do not share our love of Democracy. Their 'Sovereign Imperator' is just another name for Emperor and once the Sith have lost Bastion I fear that this new Imperial Order will turn their sights on us...I'm sure many of our Senators feel the same. The Jedi will be a great asset to us then, as will you Cassius." She smiled at him and patted his arm before taking a sip of her wine.

"This new Alliance is a fragile thing. You, Pryce, and the Jedi Order are the only things keeping us together."

Cassius Callaesar

 

[Custani Valcho]

​

A S S E R T I V E​

​

"Of course, Senator. But that doesn't mean I wasn't taxed when I left my home. These days the Confederacy is so focused on preserving our democracy that more and more laws are passed the inflict upon our citizens. In the short-term? No, but in the long term we will lose the majority of consumers who trade within our space. I also remind you that Confederacy First was an Executive Order which still has to be confirmed by the Viceroyalty. So please, make careful choices in the future"​

​

The political backlash of Confederacy First was still aggregating him. His personal thoughts on the matter was that the citizens, represented by the Viceroys, should have voted oh the matter. And yet, the new trade restrictions were in office and it violated everything democracy stood for. ​

​

Many were surprised by Confederacy First but Custani was not. The Vicelord had implemented a Inquisition before that allowing force using thugs investigate the goings on of Confederate Worlds. It was...unbecoming of a democratic nation but of course there were the attacks, viruses and problems to taken in mind. A temporary, 6 Month long political isolation would have sufficed but a mandate was too much. ​

​

"Now, were was I going with this. Yes. You see, many within the Confederacy support EO-CF however, many do not. It's up to the Viceroys and the Resolution of the People's Power to determine it's future. Or at least I hope it is." ​

​

Adhira Chandra | Emmen Tagge | Ryv | Interactees'​

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[Allyson Locke]

//: C O R U S C A N T //:
//: T E M P L E //:
//: D I V A //:
//: D R I P //:
Ryv Zaavik Perl Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Warchief Waddles

​

Time passed long enough for Allyson to worry, despite the messages she had received from the Zeltron padawan. He had finally arrived with a small announcement, and Allyson smiled happily to the boy. "You clean up nicely." Seeing that he respectfully called her, it made Allyson uncomfortable. She didn't see herself as someone who deserved the title of Master from another Jedi, but it was a hard habit for most to crack. Allyson brushed back a loose strand of her dark brunette hair, green eyes, leaving her padawan as she let them wander. "You can just call me Allyson, Zaavik." The Corellian smiled, returning her attention to him. ​

"You left a few crumbs of your huttaburger on your front." Reaching forward, she brushed off the crumb and sighed softly. "Remind me when we go on a mission to make sure there's enough food for you." her tone teasing but held a sense of seriousness in it. Allyson wanted to make sure the boy enjoyed his time and didn't want him to think he needed to remain at her side the entire time. There were a lot of people here to talk to, but also a lot of politicians. ​

"Now that you're here," The Corellian started as she made a motion to move away from the door, "I can introduce you to some people. After that, you can wander off and do what you please. Just -" Her features darkened in a threatening manner wanting to ensure that the padawan understood the importance of her next request. "Don't get yourself into trouble." When she finished, the Corellian's bright smile returned. "Come on." She waved for him to follow, the sound of her heels echoed underneath the music and chatter that echoed the room.​

Arriving around the time Maynard finished, she waved and moved to be near the Kiffar Jedi Knight, Ryv. "Looks like Concord Dawn makes some pretty awesome Jedi," Allyson smirked as she interjected into the conversation. Maynard and Loske her commanding officers, the latter being something close to her closest confidant and best friend. Spotting the look on Ryv's face, she leaned down and kissed his cheek, just briefly saying a hello that was special for him. ​

Allyson noted that there was an unfamiliar face in the group. Catching Isaiah's name, Allyson promptly introduced herself to the physically impressive man. "Allyson Locke, nice to meet you, Isaiah." When Zaavik arrived, pride would show when she added him to the conversation, "This is Zaavik Dagoth, my Padawan."​

 

[Sebastian Santelli]

Coruscant / Jedi Temple
Get into trouble.​

​

It was a dark, somber night when he caught those baby blues staring at him, piercing through the smoke of a lit cigarra. It wasn't long until she came his way, the scent of a thousand stories upon her collar meeting the stench of liquor on my breath. She looked him in the eyes as he looked back, her pearly whites shining through the reddest lips you'd ever seen. Then she spoke to him as women do:

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to put that out. Smoke at the bar, please."

Liquid courage steeled those disappointed words; a whimsical smile. "Sure thing."

As she turned, the questions already began flooding his mind. Why put ashtrays on tables if you couldn't smoke there? Why prohibit smoking at an adult function? Why? A sour mood was no good, Sebastian figured. A single swipe of those grubby mitts saw his glass picked up before he promptly made his way to the bar. Smoking his cigarra all the while.

It was about sending a message.

And the message was received. The second his elbows met the smooth bar-top, a delicate voice graced his ears.

"Hello lover," she whispered. Smooth and cold, like whiskey on the rocks.

Sebastian heard the hammer being pulled back. He sighed. Never trust a dame with a rod.

"Is the part where you kill me?" He asked, gingerly sipping. It tasted metallic, like blood.

Her lips found his cheek. She planted a kiss. "No, I messed up. I need you to come with me."

She pushed the gun harder into the small of his back.

"You've come to the right place," a slick smile crept up his mug, "Trouble is my business."