Election Night Party (Fringe+Kiskla)

[Onrai]

Welp, no one was talking with her still. The camera was in place, recording the ridiculousness going on as Circe stood up, passing @[member="Spencer Jacobs"] as she intended to leave. "I guess this party's just not for me." She took a step towards the door as she walked past the former Yun-Harla, feeling rather glum at the moment.

Who knew what would happen as the aftermath of this?

 

[Darth Vazela]

Vilox Pazela stepped into the room, lowering the cowl of his hood as he did so. Venturing from Aza'Zoth to Annaj for this election seemed too much trouble and yet, he had an obligation to attend the event to keep his allies, namely the Grand Admiral pleased, if his scheme in that region of the unknown was to maintain a secret.

Alas, he was not the social type and would only speak to someone if it benefited him in someway. He rather like a Muun in that respect. He would not be voting, as he didn't know enough about the individuals he was voting for, so he had chosen to abstain.

 

[Bundori]

@[member="Spencer Jacobs"]

"AUNTIE YUN-HARLA" Bundori was excited now as she sat there with a piece of cake she had found and watched what was happening with Shorn and his friends. "LOOK THERE IS CAKE AND COOKIE'S AND AUNTIE COMMANDER HAS ALL THE COOL PEOPLE HERE."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

(With permission from beloved Ashin)

This party was rather droll, as in that no one had died yet. It wasn't a truly festive occasion unless there were some unforeseen fatalities, but alas it seemed that wouldn't be the case here. Off in some darkened corner of the room sat a cloaked and hooded woman, as obvious from the curves the robe traced out so very faintly, who was absently drinking from an ornate goblet of dark wine. In reality it wasn't a woman at all, but with a good amount of illusion you could project yourself as anything to the untrained masses, but then again many people here were strong in the force. The enigmatic anomaly took another drink from the goblet, letting the dark liquid wash down their throat with a satisfied sigh afterwards.

Luckily no one would suspect this person to be here, after all... It was public knowledge that the Sith Emperor had died en route to Coruscant after being apprehended by the Jedi Council on Dac, and in a way that was partially true. Kaine did indeed die that day, but was reborn anew in glorious shadow and flame with a new purpose at the behest of his new Dark Master.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

She towelled off and pacified the Gran with a word that shivered him to his bones. The chaos was to be expected. Such were the results of explicitly forbidding entrance to Mikhail Shorn; her own fault, really. But the room was reinforced and isolated. This party could easily transform into a brawl without repercussions. Drunken Forcers could do their thing tonight. That, at least was the idea.

Until she spotted Circe's camera.

Ashin's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Excuse me a moment," she said to @[member="Alen Na'Varro"]. Then paused. "No, you know what? I wouldn't mind you being able to observe this."

Rave. Camera. Deal with this permanently.

 

[Velok the Younger]

The room was, as previously mentioned, heavily reinforced - and insulated. Hardlines to the election results, and a dedicated transponder to Kiskla's transmission, were the only exceptions.

"Excuse me a moment," said Rave to @[member="Meret Blackmoon"] and @[member="Anders Sivas"], rising from her chair. "Sorry to cut this short. I'll be back."

She crossed the room toward where @[member="Circe Savan"] stood with @[member="Spencer Jacobs"].

"Circe, I've worked hard to like you. I was understanding when you sexually harassed me, sometimes during important operations. I made allowances. I was understanding when you based a forty-thousand-metre warfleet on our border, in the neutral zone, and left us to deal with the political fallout with the Galactic Empire. I made allowances. I was understanding when you only showed up at the invasion of Atrisia to abduct a nubile toy, and leave. I made allowances. I was understanding when you only showed up at the Omega Protectorate invasion of Kayri, the moment we needed you most, to claim what you thought was Fringe's functional Otherdrive, and spirit it away to your own world outside our borders without fighting a soul. I made allowances, and perhaps I shouldn't have. Too much latitude for one's friends is just enabling behavior after a while.

"Too much latitude for one's children. I made you, Circe. It wasn't Velok who did the hands-on work to create your Vinithi body, it was me. You are my creation.

"But really, this isn't about you as a person, Circe -- stunning, I know. This is about-"

The camera ripped itself from its mount and flickered through the air to Rave's hand. In the process, it sparked furiously, wiping the data. She held it up between them, levitating and spinning it over her palm.

"It's about treason. It's about getting caught for a third occasion of putting your personal interests and grudges above the safety of the Fringe. It's about filming a private get-together for purposes of leverage. It's about breaking the spirit of community, peculiar though it is, that we've got going on here. When you were brought onboard to this faction, Circe, you were an outlaw with nothing to your name. Somehow you've clawed your way back to the top, and good for you, but you've forgotten that this place was meant to be accepting of everyone. A safe place for rogues and refugees of all kinds. How can that safety, that community, exist when their most private moments are being captured on holocam by their political opponents? By someone who absolutely hates one or two of them? That's not just a betrayal of the community, that's a betrayal of what I've created here in the Unknown Regions. It's your last such betrayal, ever.

"See, the High Council has put this whole faction at risk for your sake, over and over again. If the Republic invades us, it'll be because we give shelter to the worst of the worst -- and most of the people we shelter respect that and try not to actively cause more problems for us. The Republic is very probably going to invade because you can't keep your metaphorical it in your metaphorical pants. Billions will die because of your selfishness. Our people, more likely than not."

The sparking, spinning camera settled into her hand. Her fingers tightened, and the sturdy plasteel device crumpled like foil. "This, right here, is treason. AGAIN. And so I, the caretaker of the Dark Forge, chief alchemist of the Fringe, and your creator, am challenging you to a kaggath. I gave you life, Sith Lord. That was a mistake I mean to rectify."

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Hannibal turned around in his seat at the bar, sipping at his Vapaad Lesson and fiddling with the Faenrovon 836 campaign button he had pinned to his lapel. He was pleased he could be here to witness the beat-down that was to take place. Finally, someone was going to step on that uppity houseplant's neck. It would be quite hilarious if Circe were to reject the challenge, seeing as how she admonished that cannibal queen of someplace for rejecting her challenge not too long ago. Maybe, just maybe, if that Merrill chick didn't clean up after herself and left Circe a broken mess on the floor, Hannibal could bag her then and there. How sweet would that be?

The Merrill chick had won his secondary vote, because space trains are cool. He didn't understand the alchemical mumbo jumbo, but that probably net her all the votes in that little niche demographic of cultists, wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, and all those other lunatics that Hannibal tried to stay away from. Kitt had received his tertiary vote, because the laws of favoritism dictated that he do so. Where was she, anyway? She usually ate this kind of stuff up, never mind when rapist plant chicks were about to duke it out with juvenile political candidates. This was going to be great by virtue of watching a fight, and fantastic if the planets aligned and Hannibal enabled to abduct that ficus and bus her to Republic space.

Contemplating investment strategies for fifty million credits, Hannibal continued to indulge in his Vapaad Lesson.

 

[Onrai]

"Did you actually think that I would take a camera, record footage of my fellow Fringers enjoying the revelry, and release it for everyone to see? I've for years kept secrets, given support, and made friends with a plethora of the people in this room. I wasn't in a good place during my time in the Sith, and I admit, I have made a lot of mistakes."

Turning to @[member="Ashin Varanin"], she paused. "Ashin, I take the blame for refusing to come to the Fringe the numerous times you and your fellows have asked me to come here, to a place I actually belong. I also take the blame for consistently supporting the Sith, both in an attempt to satiate my own ego, and to take as much of the Empire as I could before its inevitable collapse. I didn't do that for the Fringe, or for Serpena. I did that for me. And it was a very selfish thing to do."

Pausing, she turned to @[member="Spencer Jacobs"]. "I can only hope that you and the others can forgive me, in the event that I lose this Kaggath and end up on my knees. I will not beg for mercy, and if Rave feels she has to desperately eliminate me as a threat to galactic peace, then I suppose I'll just have to return to the void of Chaos from whence I came. I don't want to die, but I'll find a way back."

Turning back to Rave, she sighed, thinking of her son, her daughter , and all the lives she had ever touched. "Well... Is there a ritual or whatnot for this, or do we simply turn the party into a brawl? Do we set a date? Do we, um... Gather our forces?" She was admittedly unsure as to what she needed to do. But one thing she was certain of.

This was going to be her requiem, one way or another.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

@[member="Circe Savan"]'s camera having been previously established to be real, the camera, when opened, proved to be real. With a grimace, Ashin shrugged. "Circe, you've made your bed. It's time to lie in it. I've done what I can for you, but even now, what you're apologizing for isn't what you've done. Good luck."

Ashin's finger hovered over to go-button on her comm, the one that would take the Maw Irregular Fleet from Circe. She did not yet press the button.

That was simple enough, anyway. The operating cost of a starfleet was far beyond Circe's means. Pre-prepared messages were ready to go out to every ship of the Maw Irregular Fleet, offering actual money, homes, fuel, ammunition, and so forth. The alternatives were bleak. Virtually every ship would accept

OOC/ Verified with two Sith Empire faction admins that the vessels of the Maw Irregular Fleet, including the Black Hex and the Gorgon, belong to Fringe OOC'ly, and the Fringe faction admins are not granting permission for them to leave the faction.

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

"By tradition, the challenger sets the circumstances of the fight, the arena -- a location, a planet, a star system, the galaxy. There's a platform on the very top of this citadel. Meet me there in fifteen minutes or forfeit."

This was the old Rave, the businesslike one. The one that had been an unwilling clone body to a Nightsister Master; the one that had survived Sith academies before becoming a teenager. She offered Circe a flat stare and turned on her heel.

Elsewhere in the citadel was her luggage. Two Derriphan's Eye alchemical knives, various vials of associated poisons. As she strapped on the knives and stripped down to Iron Skin, she pondered her poison choices with the finesse of someone who'd personally designed Circe's body from the genes up. She settled for tainting them with white-blight.

That would be enough.

When the time limit came, Rave was waiting on the broad circular rooftop, in the dark of the night, knives undrawn.

 

[Shinju]

@[member="Dharma Vessia"]

Shinju had missed all the real fun but she had to admit when she slipped in and sat down in a seat she really had no idea what was happening while running a finger through her hair to twirl it at the tip. The sight of Rave and Circe now only brougt a look to her eyes while she got handed a small plate with cake on it and smiled taking a bite. The taste exquisite and it almost reminded her of her wedding but it was missing that mystery flavor.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien sat up, a Kaggath now that did sound interesting, He stood up and moved over to Circe and Rave. to get a closer view, It was tense. Lucien had never seen a Kaggath before but he had heard that they were ... Savage. Once Rave turned heel he returned to Meret and bent down in front of her "What is about to happen will be unpleasant for you, I would keep away from it , remain down here " He said softly moving to kiss her "I will be back soon" He said before standing up and following Rave to the platform. Lucien stood at the very edge of the platform He would not interfere with this fight, but he did want to see.

 

[Onrai]

With a sigh, Circe looked through what she had with her. There was the Mandalorian armor she'd taken from Yvorre, the robes of Darth Traya, her lightsabers, a Sith poison wrist launcher that was almost empty, and a... Um... A blowdart tube. She hadn't really brought much with her - certainly not poison or anything else particularly useful. She did have her datapad, replete with the various Sith spells and scrolls she had acquired throughout the years, and gave if a once over as she decided on what to bring to the party.

-

Upstairs, well before the end of the fifteen minutes Rave had called for, Circe arrived, wearing the robes, two of her lightsabers, and the blowdart tube at her waist. The single dart inside was coated with the residue of the Sith poison from the wrist launcher, which was now entirely empty. Sighing, she stepped across from the Sith witch clone that had evidently created her. "Well, mom... I guess this it. Never thought I'd be fighting family, but I suppose as Sith, the care we're supposed to give that is less than nothing." She paused, giving a soft sigh. "I don't want to do this, and I doubt I'll succeed against you, but if I somehow manage to gain victory, you aren't going to die."

Bringing one of the lightsabers to her hands, she sighed, choosing to instead let Rave make the first move. She would activate her saber precisely as the woman did so.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

Rave did not, she realized, want to do this. It seemed a waste. But she drew her knives, coated with the larval white-blight, and nodded as Circe's lightsabre flared to life. With the long, curved, serrated knives in forehand grips, she closed in. Cautiously.

She began to chant in Paecean, a lesser spell in an old dialect. As yet, however, nothing was happening, and her long familiarity with Nightsister works allowed her to speak without using traditional forms, the kinds of things a listener might know if she'd spent time with Dathomiri. Something was about to begin to happen; whether Circe managed to break her concentration or not was another matter.

She closed with a beat-attack, aiming to sweep Circe's sabre away with one knife and slash the knuckle with the other.

 

[Onrai]

Circe herself heard the chant, though she had little idea of what it was that Rave intended to do. Circe managed to block the first knife, then sent a simple Force Push towards Rave, intending to force the woman back and, for a brief moment, disrupt her concentration. Rave's mind was likely too secure for mental intrusion, and the best option right now was to make her back away, keep her off balance. And to avoid those knives... She knew such a weapon typically carried poison, and for all she knew, Rave had made herbicide that would kill her.

Circe herself began to chant, focusing hard on the Dark Side as she thought of a plan. The two women were currently standing on top of an enormous citadel that was not walled off. A fall would be pretty bad... But if Rave was as skilled with magic as Circe assumed, she would likely know how to survive such a drop. Regardless, the only option she be right now was to focus and keep her energy in the Dark Side at full strength. If she had the chance, perhaps she would try and push Rave back.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@[member="Circe Savan"]

A simple Force push from a Master was more than enough to disrupt Rave's concentration. She would have to start from the beginning -- as soon as she finished flying backwards and skidding painfully across the roof. She rolled to her feet and set her stance, stalling her momentum.

Walking toward Circe, she began to chant once more, the same one she'd just been using. She was starting from the beginning, and giving Circe a choice: Finish her own incantation and let Rave get a metaphorical shot off, or break Rave's concentration again. Partial focus would probably only produce the kind of distraction that Rave could avoid without breaking her own focus.

Just as before, Circe faced a choice.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Kaine had moved when the Kaggath was issued, and followed Rave and Circe to the roof that would serve as their combat ground. Still bound in black with the appearance of a woman behind his cowl, he watched them fight. It then began to rain, a torrential downpour that had seemingly sprung up out of nowhere, as if some deity had taken notice of the duel and decided to give it that desperately needed dramatic flair. Kaine never minded the rain, but nonetheless he created a small barrier around himself so that the rain would slide off of his form without getting his cloak and robe wet. It faintly reminded him many ages ago on Dromund Kaas, where it rained on for hours as Moridin and his cohorts, Kaine included, purged the city of political adversaries while Moridin appointed himself as Emperor.

But now Dromund Kaas was nothing but a wasteland, it's jungles and mountain consumed as death descended upon it's people.

 

[Onrai]

"Kashojontu con... Ah, forget it."

Circe had more focus and more energy than she did previously, having briefly focused during her incantation. Unsure of what Rave intended to do, she supposed that there was only one real option. With that, she again focused with the Force and sent a larger, much stronger push Rave's way. The kind that could send someone over the edge, where they would manage to survive, grab said edge, and get back up. It wasn't strong enough to send someone flying hundreds of feet away, with no chance of survival.

Cautiously, Circe reached a hand in her robe, preparing the simple blowdart tube for use. She hoped she didn't have to use it, but if she did... Who knew what the consequences could be?

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Matreya]

Zaiden arched a brow at the events as they passed, he knew Rave through history and simple sightings, so he knew of her capabilities. Then there was Circe, yes she had done many a wrong, but then very few among them were innocent. Following the two duelists as they moved upward, then watching intently while they began, Zaiden couldn't help but murmur against the winds, "Ashin, I'm confused. What did she do that deserved this? Rave can, and very likely will end her. Do we not owe her even if her errors out weigh her deeds? Every man and woman here has done at least one thing they would hide from the others.

Grinding his teeth for a moment as he thought, then with a sigh began again this time much louder and again blessed to reach each pair of ears, "As said, I have done everything in my power for this faction of misfits. I always have and will. Circe...is at heart confused on what she needs. But she always returns here - returns home. Rave, if you best her then so be it.."

Now his voice reached it's crescendo at a huge bellow, "I may not be the most powerful here, but any whom old past discretions against Circe will face not one but two Masters. THIS IS IT. IF SHE LOSES SHE LOSES. IF SHE WINS DROP IT."

Penumbra knew he wasn't fully in the loop on all that Circe had done, but until she wronged him she would be an ally.

@[member="Circe Savan"] @[member="Rave Merrill"] @[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

So Circe had opted to get off her own hit at the risk of letting Rave finish her incantation. The spell rippled out from Rave's throat - Surge of the Brier, it was called. Granted, her magic needed to contend with the Master-level aura that kept her from, for example, ripping the lightsabre from Circe's hand or tearing out her heart. That said, the spell still aimed to twist and distort Circe's plant body, forcing it to grow inconvenient tendrils, roots, leaves and even flowers. That was the intent, anyway.

Rave was too busy flying, that and aching from the bruising impact. Hair fountained out around her field of vision as she snarled Speed of the Toocha and spun her knives into backhand grips. Both blades slammed into the edge of the roof, biting into the tile. Her body slammed into the building's wall. With a groan and the last of the spell, she pulled herself over the edge to see what, if anything, her spell had done to her creation.