Night to Remember | CIS Dominion of Stewjon (S,50)

[Connor Harrison]

With a small nod of the head letting the lady past, holding the door open and making sure she didn't trip, Connor glanced back to ensure he didn't shut the door in someone's face and noticed a rather diminutive fellow in a dinner jacket - was he waiter? He looked like a youngster - [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] - and who had a familiar face, that was for sure. How odd, but good luck to the nipper here with the adults.

Connor let the door rest open ajar and went to stand with Tha'ga. Everything blew the humidity and stench and noise of the tavern away - he felt like he could breathe again.

"Oh, please don't be silly, my mistake." He waved his hand to dismiss her unwanted apology. "Long story short, my place here is a little...complicated." How much did this Temi need / want to know? Probably little of the complex saga Connor had lived through. "While the Confederacy has given me a place to return to, I can't see myself being in their ranks forever. There's something inside of me that has done serving others and orders and codes; I want to try and serve two things. The Force and myself. That way, I can't be let down or broken again."

That could come across harsher than expected.

"Probably doesn't make sense, does it? I'm sorry. Ok, for now I'm here to help the Confederacy maintain balance between their operations, between Light and Dark."

He was losing her in his cryptic conversation. He broke into a grin and shook his head.

"Ok enough of that boring talk. Please, tell me more about what you do, Tha'ga. You mentioned helping your sister? Care to share what having such high responsibilities entails? I'm fascinated to hear."

The chaos from the tavern seemed but a memory now.

[member="Tha'ga Temi"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Stewjon [The Longhouse]
Wearing: This
Drunk Status: Stone Cold Sober

Silver eyes lingered on the crude wooden table in front of her, mostly immune to the shouting, but the frivolity was not lost on her. [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] was there. She could feel the Nightmother, had heard her inquisitive voice, mingling with the general riff-raff, and for the most part it left the Echani at ease. There was nothing to fear with both the Vicelord and the head witch of Mandragora present. Not to mention, this day had been a victory for the Knights Obsidian. If that was the case…Why did she feel so tense? Why did her muscles feel tight, as if anticipating a new attack, when there seemed to be none.

Instead of dwelling on that which she could not change, or decipher, she focused her efforts on making sure that her Master remained blind to her concerns. She used the name that he had given her permission to use on Sullust and was entirely rewarded by his mind going blank. His surprise was more than palpable and she couldn’t help when she rose her hand to snicker behind it, hiding the expression, as it was not befitting a supposed Queen of Dread.

Nor an Echani, for that matter.

Somehow, considering his relationship with [member="Aedan Miles"], she was not surprised that her Master had at one point been a pirate. His voice was booming, happy, and happier still when he guzzled down ale like it was the finest, sweetest water. The scent of liquor alone made the Echani cringe. She couldn’t imagine drinking it at all let alone so liberally. Once in a blue moon, she indulged for the sake of an audience, but never to excess. “Wasn’t Aedan always off stealing from the Republic?”, she interjected, not at all surprised, as she leaned back in her chair.

There was something both unnerving and charming about the pirate. She felt as if she SHOULD be wary…But he always seemed to be looking out for her best interests. He protected her, even, when she didn’t need it.

[member="Darth Metus"] told his story, however amused, the Echani found that it ended to too soon. He questioned if she would pick up next, or if [member="Eladia Laux"], had something to wow their ears. She merely offered a pale smile and let the Sith Lord move on to the next person. Thankfully, he turned to [member="Riggs"], but it was actually [member="Anya Malvern"] that went next.

Srina wasn’t sure how to feel about the former spouse of the man that had run her through with a Devaronian poisoned blade. Ever since the Well, she’d seemed to be proving herself loyal, but there was still a tingling notion of warning. Once upon a time, she’d been the daughter of the Empire. Her story was less carnage filled than Srina had expected…But her words at the end felt genuine. Srina nodded her head toward the copper-haired warrior. “Well said, Anya.”

It was. If….If she proved to be as she portrayed herself—The Knights would be lucky to have her. [member="Kip Ridel"] also began to tell them a tale. This time, it was not one of glory, not exactly, but of the life of a wandering minstrel. Interesting.

The pale-skinned woman prepared to turn her focus to Riggs when he began, that is, until she felt someone familiar. [member="Connor Harrison"]. She had to stop herself from turning around in her seat, as it was rude to stare, and instead used the Force to confirm his presence. Srina still wasn’t certain about the nearly mystical Dark Jedi. He was strong. Powerful enough that she hadn’t even been able to sense the true depths of it on Zhar or Ryloth. She’d been stern, secure in her own abilities, only to find out that he could have snapped her neck with minimal effort…

She wasn’t certain if she felt better or worse of him over it.

Srina tuned back in at the end of Riggs story, a little chagrinned that she missed part of it, but still trying to focus. Over her shoulder a voice that she was slowly growing accustomed to rang loud and clear over her shoulder. True to form, she did not jump when [member="Ahani Najwa"] called out a sudden ‘boo’, but her hands did clench. Slightly.

Nevertheless, her fellow Echani began to weave a story, speaking without sound, and Srina fell head first into it. She was homesick, despite her best efforts not to let the rest of the Confederacy see it, but she missed her family fervently enough that it often felt like physical pain. She was not as old as Ahani, nor as learned, but she knew the language of their people. Cherished it.

The narrative that Ahani launched into next…It was too much for Srina. Hearing it, feeling it, was jarring. The snow-kissed Echani stood from her seat and reached for the older woman, silently offering her the place she had vacated beside [member="Darth Metus"], before she slipped away. She knew his history far better than Srina did and could reminisce, where the apprentice, could not.

Not to mention, the Sith Apprentice needed some air, and time to forget…Everything. Srina did not feel. It was not her place, to feel. Such indelicacies were reserved for civilians that retained the luxury. Home...Home was not a place she could afford to miss.

Turning toward one of the exits she paused, mid-step, when she saw something strange. A youngling? Silver eyes fell to the sandy-haired boy, both curious, and finding reason for a little bit of concern. It was a fact that she had not formally met every member of CIS forces, as it was impossible to shake hands with the entirety of a nation, but this was new. She had seen all manner of droids…But this was new. Searching through the Force, she felt him to be both young, and old.

The pale-woman stopped before the little one, his attire charming, though her expressionless face wouldn’t let on how she felt. Truth be told, he wasn’t that much shorter than she was, with all of the giants in the room. “Hello...”, she greeted, offering [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] her hand to shake, white-gold hair slipping over her shoulder like a moonlit river. “My name is Srina Talon. Who might you be?”

​

Tags: [member="Eladia Laux"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Asher Mossa"] | [member="Tha'ga Temi"] | [member="Jorco Czeku"] | [member="Jasmine Zittoun"] | [member="Natasha Darkstar"] |[member="Anya Malvern"] | [member="Aaron Stratus"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] | [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Ahani Najwa"] | [member="Kip Ridel"]

 

[Vyra Silara]

​

Location: Leaving the Longhouse; Venturing outdoors
Attire: River Gown
Current State Of Mind: Stressed | Agitated


It hit abruptly as she raised her second ale to her lips, the sudden desperate need for solitude as a group of excited local young women engaged her in conversation. Vyra fought the urge as long as she could, smiling brightly through the growing anxiety, not a scrap of evidence on her face, but the grip on her tankard was white-knuckled and she was eating the small crock of berry pie she'd mindlessly plucked from the feasting table a little too quickly to truly taste it.

It wasn't that she was unsociable or nervous in crowds. On the contrary, Vyra often thrived in social settings, driven by her love of people. No, this was something else. It had begun as she'd climbed her way out of the Slave Pits, and the phenomena had disappeared and reappeared at random since then. A sort of…overload of the senses, uncontrollably intense but far beyond simple sight, sound and smell, as if someone had pulled a heavy veil from her mind and suddenly she… it was indescribable. Felt everything? Everyone? A crisp clarity, an awareness she had no words for. It flooded her being like a tsunami, no warnings, no mercy. She'd assumed it was a side effect, a byproduct of her post-traumatic stress from Zygerria, and perhaps she had been more withdrawn after her escape than she'd originally thought. But after a long five years of learning how to cope and grow beyond her setbacks, she was confident in her ability to handle things. And these episodes felt… unrelated to her emotional scarring.

Tonight was different.​

​

Tonight, it was unbearably powerful.​

The fragrant smoke billowing from the grand fire pit in the middle of the longhouse rose above the crowds on either side of her, the herbs and flowers thrown into the flames leaving a sweet green flavor in the air. The raucous laughter born of too much dark amber ale and jovial conversation blended together, noisy but pleasant, barely dampened by the hay and dried grasses strewn across the floors to soak up extra noise (and spilled ale). The lights hanging from the ceilings cast a warm glow on the longhouse interior, flickering like the candles they were made to mimic. A small group of local musicians had gathered in one large empty corner near the back of the room, striking up lively tunes on their strange instruments as a handful of people danced in a small but ever-growing circle, whooping and grinning.

Truly a celebration.

She wished she could continue to enjoy it.

Dark eyes scanned the tables for [member=Kyle Ajahn] as the young women broke from their seats to join the dancing when the music shifted. After reassuring him she'd be fine this evening, the stubborn part of her spirit bit back against the need to find the comfort of his presence, but she knew he'd worry if she just up and left without a word. She caught sight of her handmaiden, [member=Eirene], locked in an animated exchange across the room with an older woman and a young man that could only be her brother. The same wide mouth, bright eyes and brassy gold curls. Vyra let them be. Rarely did her friend ever get to visit home, and she hadn’t seen her family in years. The young woman more than deserved the night off from her duties, although it had taken some firm wording to convince Eirene of that fact. She looked away quickly, lest the Stewjon native spy her gaze.

Her decision made, the Viceroy of Relovian abandoned her food and drink, rising from the table and moving with purpose towards the exit. She had yet to properly greet her peers, but the overwhelming need for a moment or two to collect herself free from the public eye was quickly overtaking her mask of calm, and it wouldn't do to shatter in front of the Vicelord.

Stewjon spread its rolling, grassy fields and gentle streams before her, washing the evening sky with vibrant oranges and sherbet pinks. The night air was comfortably cool, the scent of ripe fruits and damp earth lacing the breeze. The further from the celebration she strode, the more her senses relaxed. Vyra thought this odd, but didn't pay it much mind. Her focus was on calming herself, and she knew exactly how to distract her frazzled mind…

Except there was nothing to climb.

The forest, though clearly visible beyond the village, was too far away to make the trek before the sun set fully, and she wouldn't dream of scaling a stranger's roof for her own peace of mind. Aggravated at herself, Vyra turned from the path, the thin cotton of her simple homespun gown fluttering around her legs as she traipsed through the tall grass with no destination in mind except further away. The lovely, watery blue fabric would ruin quickly, but she was unconcerned.

The young 'monarch' found herself at a shallow brook not far from the grand longhouse, its banks covered with shimmering river-stones in varying shades of blue and green. The water babbled through nooks and crannies, rambling slowly down stream as the setting sun kissed the moving waters with color. Tiny glowflies floated lazily across the creek and above the grass, flickering here and there in a rainbow of colors. The picture of serenity.
It was so peacefully perfect Vyra almost let it be, momentarily unwilling to disturb such a scene, but her feet were moving before she realized it. Gathering her skirts, the brunette perched atop a wide, flat rock near the water's edge, folding her legs underneath her and resting her hands primly in her lap.

And there she sat, eyes closed, letting the sound of the stream and the fading warmth of the sun draw her senses from their frantic state and soothe her thoughts. The sharp awareness seemed to retreat, the veil once more falling over her mind.

If this strangeness kept happening, she'd need to start asking some questions, and Vyra wasn't sure she wanted the answers.

​

​

| [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member=Darth Metus] | [member=Kip Ridel] | [member=Eladia Laux] | [member=Asher Mossa] | [member=Katrine Van-Derveld] | [member=Tha'ga Temi] | [member=Jorco Czeku] | [member=Jasmine Zittoun] | [member=Natasha Darkstar] | [member=Anya Malvern] | ​

| [member=Connor Harrison] | [member=Ahani Najwa] | [member=Sor-Jan Xantha] |​

 

[Ria Misrani]

Although the expression he wore was neutral, Vulkanus was there to listen and he listened with intrigue he noted that Ahani's speech was better here. She was not the madwoman he knew her to be if the man were, to be honest. He found his companion of late to be clinically insane half the time and if asked, Vulkanus could not answer as to how he found himself near her. Oh sure, his sergeant joked it that he was after the Echani for an entirely inappropriate reason that wore on him. Particularly because the activity implied had no interest to him and held little in value. There were enough hungry whelps in the galaxy, he needn't add to their number, but as his mind returned to Ahani's story.

Vulkanus settled on her words and her posture.

"Would you like another drink?"

[member="Ahani Najwa"]

 

[Riamah]

The red headed woman was a new face that had recently joined the Confederacy. She was unknown to most of them and Ra sat by herself, hiding as much as she could. Not the type of person to enjoy parties, large gatherings or massive celebrations the fact she was here was something odd. She was a businesswoman and used to meeting people in a more formal setting of an office. On the rare occasion, she would meet in a public setting, but have a private area arranged for her and the client.

So here she was sitting at a party that was being put on for a reason she was unaware of and just observing those around her. She had food and drink in front of her that she picked and sipped at.

Ra would remain silent and in hiding like this until somebody might approach her. If that did not happen, that would be fine as well. Just gave her a better opportunity to get to know these people and learn if she was going to fit in with them...

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Er'in had no idea why [member="Darth Metus"] was here, of all the planets in the galaxy, at least not until her ship slipped silently into a grove and she hiked the few kilometers to the nearby town.

A party.

Oh.

This would be the latest planet brought into the freedom of the Confederacy then. Or was that 'freedom'? She wasn't entirely sure she knew anymore, she certainly knew she didn't care. By the standards of the galaxy, these people had it made. Even if the Obsidian armoured soliders were new...

... well, that answered what happened to the Acolytes while she'd been away. She'd felt his pull a number of times, but it had always born the sensory impression of politeness, rather than the demand of command. She had wondered what had changed in a bare few months, but she'd also been busy.

She glanced down at her filthy robes, the battered boots and raised one hand to her hair. Ugh. Of course it had to be a party and she was very much not dressed for the experience. How... embarassing.

A laugh slipped out, surprising her, she talked to herself a lot these days, but laughter was rare. Embrassing. How Hapan. Yes, actually, it was good to be Hapan tonight. She straightened her back, utterly ignored the fact she was wearing the same clothing she'd left in (cleaned only in streams and dried in the exhaust of her stealth fighter - look, the Hapan princess can do laundry) and stalked in to catch the end of Metus' brag. Mandalorians. You can't live with them, you somehow can't live without them.

She winked at [member="Srina Talon"] and joined the group as if she had in fact been part of the conquest of the planet, and not reappeared from nowhere.

"Your time as a pirate, is that the best you have to offer, Metus?" Her voice hadn't changed at all, even if it sounded alien to her to direct it at another person - pure, clipped Hapan without a trace of conflicting accents. "I can raise you pirates and see you - I believe that's the term in Sabbac? - a duel between a dark lady, an aing-tii warrior monk who was most, most put off by our presence and my humble self. We can skip through the dramatic music, the posturing and the terrifying level of skill in the force that mysterious species demonstrate, frankly, the Lord of the Sith didn't really compete. Instead we should all focus on our heroine's moment of brilliance, when she gained mastery over an aing-tii meditation stone and used it to knock the Sith out through an airlock, a fate which I am afraid was distinctly non-fatal."

To prove the point, she reaches into her side pouch and pulls out a single oddly shaped purple stone maybe the size of a clenched fist with several bands of a still-unknown metal around it, then with entirely un-Er'in serene calmness has it hover gently above her palm, balanced perfectly 'without colour' between light and dark to those who can see.

Her own aura is still as black and red as the next Sith, but it loses colour and definition as she extends her hand - not exactly mastery of the Aing-Tii way, but not a bad parlour trick, either.

"The Aing-tii Monk was so impressed by this feat, he agreed to guide our heroine to destination within the rift she sought... but that's another story."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Spoiler: Sor-Jan's Theme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQ3poU70uIE​

A presence in the Force.

Spinning around, the chubby cheeked youngling turned to face a woman possessed of hair so fair that it was nearly white. In contrast to his own sandy mop, it made his straw-colored hair seem positively brown by comparison. The child smiled brightly as the stranger approached, the innocent gesture made more pronounced by the bright, cerulean blue eyes that peered up at her as the child craned his head back to look up at the taller woman.

He was quite young.

He was quite old.

Both were true, depending on one's point of view. The youngest Anzat were whispered to be ancient. Assuming that people even believed that Anzati existed at all. Some preferred to believe that they didn't, that such creatures couldn't be real.

"Hi!" the youngling offered the woman with both enthusiasm and sincerity, as a child, as though genuinely happy at their meeting. "I'm Sor-Jan," the child supplied in kind, as he stretched out to take the woman's hand.

Anzat were telepaths.

It was the means by which the vampires stalked their prey across mindfields that spanned entire galaxies. The older the Anzat, the more fearsome their power.

Sor-Jan was, as yet, still a child. Not yet awakened to the hunger that shaped the people and culture he belonged to, instead masquerading as though human -- as though Corellian. It was another unique trait to the Anzat. To hide their young in plain sight, assimilated into the very cultures and populations on which they would later prey upon.

Still, what might she feel at the touch of his hand? Youth, sadness, joy, fear, happiness, grief... all occupied some part of the child's being. Some more easily than the rest. Some more openly. Yet each was integral to who and what he was.

After he had let go of her hand, the child gave a bow with an animated, exaggerated flourish. "Sor-Jan Xantha of the Corellia Digital Corporation, at your service!"

It was, hopefully, a name she would not recognize. Or, if she did, he'd rather it be from a Fortune 500 magazine.

Preferably not from any connection with General Sor-Jan Xantha, the Silver Jedi who had gone to Mandalore on the eve of interstellar war to offer aid to the self-proclaimed enemies of the Jedi on the eve of the devastation of the Mandalorian homeworld.

A damn fool's crusade. He had nearly brought civil war down on a planet already tearing itself apart when Clan Rekali had openly opposed the Mand'alor's call for the Silver Jedi aid fleet to be attacked as they tried to rescue survivors.

As a gambler, he'd played an Idiot's Array and somehow won the bet. The Mand'alor had backed down and Sor-Jan's flotilla of ships had been able to work with Clans Raxis and Rekali to make a difference for the survivors of Mandalore. But he had distanced himself from the Jedi after that, escaping into the world of business and finance.

A place where his reckless gambits effected only the corporate bottom line, not the fate of innocent people struggling to breathe through swirling clouds of ash, while overhead the armchair generals aboard their starships measured whose turbolaser was bigger.

[member="Srina Talon"]​

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Trying Mead and Torturing Getting to Know [member="Asher Mossa"]
Wearing: This
Post: Five

She finished another glass, he poured again without her asking. Katrine just shrugged mentally and continued to drink. Asher wasn't surprised by the attention he was getting. "That is his essence, yes, but the spirits are always aware," Katrine continued. The spirits were always watching one way or another.

Talking about the curse stirred emotions in the man as he began listing those that had died because of him. He was born a curse, he clarified, not a hex placed on him. He was winterborn, child of slstice and something that couldn't be changed. None of that, however, derailed the Nightmother. "I didn't say a hex was put on me. I was born with a curse. A shadow. With the intent of making me become her. Nobody died becuase of me, I killed because of the effect." This was probably the longest Katrine had spoken about Avarisa. "I was born with a gift, that makes me suseptable to the dead. I can see them, I can talk to them. They can touch me and even kill me if they wished it," she shared, slightly unwillingly before she drank again. Katrine really didn't know how to lie. So far, she'd been a target for her ancestor, she'd been forced to live through every negative emotion of spirits either angry or in pain, she'd been claimed by three spirits in more ways than an average person could comprehend. Maybe that was her curse but the Witch saw Avarisa a curse more than anything else.

Even now as she spoke about it, she could see Ceta nearby, watching over her. Unlike her mother, the progenitor of the Hawk bloodline wished her no ill will that Katrine almost didn't pay attention to her unless she was addressed.

If she wanted to be here though, she would have to keep drinking. "You haven't been paying attention, I've been drinking," she reminded him with a small smile, half of her glass already drank. "I'm not afraid of your curse. I've come face to face to myself. I'm standing on ground I shouldn't be standing in. I haven't even been born yet." No lies, no hesitation, she wasn't afraid of some curse, she'd lived through hers and broke free. "You should however lighten up, it'll do you good," Katrine pointed out, finishing up her glass and putting it in front of him for a refill. She was definitely getting a hang of the sweet drink.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE: Getting Drunk
WEARING: This
POST: 5

​

They had won. Gerwald was not surprised of that fact, but rather relieved. During the battle he had seen many things, things which made it clear his path and destiny lie beyond the borders of Stewjon. He had already told his father Ubba, and his mother Angelica, of the decision to leave the planet with the Confederacy. The way their knights used the force had been something he needed to learn. The gift was too undeveloped in him, and in order to the warrior he could be for their people, Gerwald needed to leave with the knights. Everything he was about to do was with the motivation that one day he could return and be what his people needed him to be. He was selfless that way, except for the secret he kept from them all. Only his parents knew.

Stories were told among the children of the wolves which even the night terrors feared. Gerwald was not sure of the truth behind such tales, but they did make him smile regardless. The Lupine couldn't help but take a sense in pride that his midnight runs and hunts had elicited such fables for their people. They were stories of protection, the great guardian of the woods who was there to keep them safe. The stories were meant to give courage and not fear, though, Gerwald knew the stories could be used to do the opposite.

He'd lost count of how many goblets of mead the large man had drunk. His height and frame meant it took quite a few to get him to the point were he was now. Standing atop a table, Gerwald was singing with his friends and other warriors he had fought alongside with in the recent years. This was his last night with them after all. He had to make it a memorable one. As the chorus continued the man took in a deep breath through his nose.

He stopped singing and drew in another breath. There was something on the air. Familiar.

LUPINE.

How? Had the Confederacy brought one with them? It was not the scent of his mother, sister, or brother. Gerwald knew them too well. This scent was new. Lupine, but new.

Gerwald stumbled off the table. His feet carried him into the crowd of bodies which seemed to be gathering around the ruckus being made over war stories. He would tell his, but not until after he found the other. They were alone in the galaxy, or at least on Stewjon. His curiosity had the better of him, and for being stone drunk, Gerwald had a sudden shot of sobriety. It would not last long, but long enough, he hoped. If there had been any doubts he was going to leave with the Confederacy in the morning, there were none now. Gerwald was going to leave Stewjon.

[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] [memeber="Er'in Tenel"] [member="Ra'a'mah"] [member="Vulkanus"] [member="Vyra Silara"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Anastasia Verd]

Objective: Playing Drinking Games
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Riggs"] [member="Anya Malvern"] [member="Er'in Tenel"] [member="Ahani Najwa"]
Wearing: This
Post: Six

The pale Echani's suggestion kicked off the storytelling, Dad began to tell his tale of being a pirate. When was he a Pirate? The girl wondered to herself as he spoke, speaking as though he was answering her question as he did. In a time when the Mandalorians were just United clans and when they were feared. Ferocious. Battle Hungry. Ballsy. Her mind repeated his description. Then he went on, talking about a singular event, having a prey. Dad introduced the mention of his brother Ember. He and this brother of his crashed the hall with a Basilisk War Droid, blasting through. Anastasia listened with more interest than she had originally expected to, clinging to the words.

Slashing and trashing, she kept repeating in her mind as she listened, heaps and heaps of credits, gems, crystals, and ingots. Unaware to Anastasia, her eyes had grown a little wider at the story. Big Bang! In a moment, Anastasia felt as though she had never truly felt, like a child listening to her parent tell a bedtime story, eagerly listening for more, only to find out that was how the story ended. He raised his glass after a moment, asking who could best that tale. He called for Srina and for a moment, Anastasia was glad the Echani was his favorite.

Anastasia knew there were stories inside her head, she could recall them to a point. Some of them more vivid than others but she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt none of them were hers. They all belonged to the monster. Some of them were done in her own body, others centuries before yet Anastasia remembered them the way a person remembered their life even if she could make the distinction between her own truth and someone else's. Dad questioned Eladia and then another, Ana's eyes turning to look at one of them. She was almost sure she was looking into another brother based on his age but looking at him now, she knew she hadn't met him yet, not formally. Not as herself nor as the monster. She was just grateful Dad didn't pick on her to tell her own stories when she herself didn't have any.

Within moments, a voice called out and Anastasia looked at the woman talking. Anastasia knew her as a Doashim. Anya? Yes, Anya. Vaguely, she could remember she had been taken captive on Tatooine, with the monster's little interest in a former member of a phony Empire that didn't come close to the one she had been created for.

The woman spoke about leading troopers into battle, calling it a past life experience. A city siege. Anastasia immediately felt her brain jump into a memory that was not her own. The monster, still a child, unable to fit into her red guard armor but training intently to become one, yet wishing to fill the shoes of the Emperor's favorite when she had discovered the small group of rebels inside the massive vessel, quietly preparing to launch a quiet attack against her maker. They hadn't had a chance to strike and the clone had felt rage as she had never. Involuntarily, Anastasia closed her eyes as the scenes passed through her mind. Two identical lightsabers, in red, her mind reminded her just as she watched, as if she herself had jumped high in the air and spun, before her blades had met the first assailant, ending his life before he had been able to scream. The others had surprised by the sight but her movements had been so quick that their lives had gone out quicker than most of them had been able to react. In the end, she had been found, the blood of others covering her and her body in a ready stance and taken to the Emperor himself where she had but a single request. Emperor's Hand. A myth, a whisper among the members of the Empire yet a wish like no other for the young Kamonian clone who had always believed herself to be the daughter of her own maker.

Her eyes opened and she watched everyone around her, blinking a few times before she'd reached for her glass with both hands, taking a long gulp, not expecting the alcohol she had found inside it, causing her to cough slightly. Eyes turned to watch the new talker, a possible brother, her glass still at the level of her mouth as he talked about piracy and raiding, choosing to talk about love or lust instead. There are none, Anastasia realized in her mind. Of lust, yes but love was something the monster was incapable of.

Anastasia forced herself to drink again, a light cough escaping her again as she did to the taste, only to be startled by the sudden boo. The newcomer began her tale almost immediately, talking about Eshan. Anastasia half listened before the story began to involve Palpatine, triggering a new memory, this one of the monster holding a lesson of him to her first student. It was probably the only time the monster knew of pride. The last time as well. Even when she had tried a non force user, something that annoyed the woman to no end, she knew pride in the assassin she had molded out of her daughter's clone.

With another speaking, challenging Dad even brought Anastasia back from the memories that weren't hers. A duel with a dark lady, where she gained power over an aing-tii meditation stone and used it to win but not kill the Sith. Her attention turned to the purple stone the woman produced suddenly, making her put down her glass before she reached for it. "Can I see that?" Anastasia asked in a heartbeat, surprising even herself at that moment as her hand moved towards it. The stone was beautiful for the lack of word and the girl could almost feel like she was being pulled to it because of that beauty.

 

[Tha'ga Temi]

Half of the time, Tha’ga did not know the comings and goings of her sister. In fact, over the last month, Tmoxin’s return to Hapes had been somewhat of a surprise and prior to that she’d been relatively estranged from the Temi family, mostly due to her connection with the Sith which for two years she’d tried to bury evidence of.

Had Tha’ga come to Stewjon out of little curiosity of her own? Maybe. Was she there there to spy on Tmoxin’s confidants for her politically powerful parents? Yes, for sure. She had strong loyalty to Hapes and her family, while it did seem to her at times that her older sister only had loyalty to herself.

She smiled at [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] as they passed and finally fresh air!

The Hapan politician listened to him carefully, head titled upward to meet his gaze. She could be checking her datapad or letting her eye wander around the picturesque town square, but no, she politely paid attention and even more her attention seemed genuine as though the man's words were important. Very unHapan-like.

“I think that’s what the Confederacy provided to Tmoxin as well. The Force, however, I know very little about.” Despite the weakest of Force auras inside her.

There was a slight trace of her Hapan accent in the agreement, but her Core Basic was nearly perfect. “Balance is a good thing, no?”

The redhead laughed at the question. “The Hapes Cluster is in a perilous place right now, Mr. Harrison. I’m currently working with the monarchy to make sure that any allies we have do not… interfere. The Consortium has been not just let down, but betrayed time after time by those seeking to “protect us.” Air quotes. “I’m a Director of the Heritage Council which is dedicated to keeping Hapes an isolationist regime. I guess I’m some sort of diplomat? Informal ambassador? Flimsi shredder?” Self deprecating to the core, she added, “Nothing high level at all.”

She had become impassioned by talk of her homeplanet signaling a deep loyalty to her culture and values.

Post 6 | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

This sister was interesting. Very different from Tmoxin in all aspects. Connor folded his arms and drew his finger and thumb around slowly at the base of his beard whilst listening to her speak. From the little hint at an accent to how she talked down her importance and role, not to mention the small ember of Force energy burning inside her, Connor built a picture. Either Tha’ga had been unknowingly groomed to be the lesser of two sisters, or she genuinely was selfless and serving to others as best she could.

Admirable qualities, if the latter.

He smiled at her little quirks and tapped his finger and thumb together before lowering his hand and using it to enforce certain words of importance.

"Balance is key. It’s the key to everything. Without it, there is disorder, chaos and we go back to the primeval stages of our evolution. I - "

He turned his head around back to the direction of the tavern suddenly in mid-sentence. He felt her. She was here again, and doing what she did on Zhar. [member="Srina Talon"] and apprentice of [member="Darth Metus"] obviously had one rule for touching the mind of others, but when it came to her it was a very different story.

Connor acknowledged her Force aura and pushed back to let her know he was very aware of her presence. A dull throb would be felt in her mind as he clouded her senses for a few seconds, before turning back to Tha’ga. A disarming smile formed again.

"I’m sorry," he rolled his eyes, "but I thought I heard my name. Where was I? Yes. Balance. I know a little of what is going on around Hapes. Tell me, those who wanted to “protect you”," air quotes, "did they have a certain allegiance to Jedi or Sith? You come to see how balance can be tipped when one of their kind gets involved. That’s the sort of thing I would like to help…prevent."

Maybe Tha’ga would be more important to maintaining balance than she expected?

[member="Tha'ga Temi"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Stewjon [The Longhouse]
Wearing: This
Drunk Status: Stone Cold Sober

She was rebuffed. Firmly. Silver eyes narrowed.

Barely had she even poked or prodded the Dark Jedi with the Force. She had felt [member="Connor Harrison"], confirmed that her suspicions were correct, though she had gone no further than a metaphysical glance. The intrusion, if it could be called that, had warranted a response. A sense of discomfort settled in, an ache, right betwixt her eyes and almost immediately an invisible presence pushed back against her own. This man was a part of the Confederacy, certainly, yet he had done nothing to endear himself to the Vicelord’s apprentice.

Tilting her head to clear it as she moved through the Longhouse, her neck cracked, and she swallowed a mote of irritation. For all of her training to keep mentalist abilities from turning her mind into little more than soupy grey matter, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Connor Harrison could still turn her into the walking dead, if he so chose, and it made every fiber of her being vibrate with irascibility. It was unlike her. Something about him…Something got under her skin. She didn’t know why and couldn’t explain it.

There was nothing she would have liked more than to surgically remove his perfect little smile from his perfect little face.

As soon as her vitriol arrived, and she realized her impropriety, it ended. Anger, hate, irritation…It counted just as much as emotion, if not more, than softer equivalents. Srina did not indulge them. She was a blank slate, a painting without color, a song without sound. None of this, let alone an Adjudicator with a complex, would ruffle her. Peace. Calm, and peace.

With that in mind, by the time came to face [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"], her expression had smoothed into something reminiscent of classical beauty. There was no hate. No anger. Only, a soft, nearly docile curiosity about the boy-child that wandered through the festivities like a little man. He spun around to face her and inquisitive eyes flickered at his expressive greeting. “It’s nice to meet you Sor-Jan.”, she responded, shaking hands, as was appropriate.

Srina held an affinity to the Force that could be intense. Fickle. With this young man, physical contact released a myriad of barely contained intuition that presented a final frame. Endlessness.

A lack of contact severed the small connection that had just begun to bloom and a soft smile lingered on her expression at the over the top actions the child expressed. It felt like genuine innocence and it had been a very, very long time since she had encountered youngling. They were precious oddities to her. “Of the Corellia Digital Corporation? Forgive me... But you seem a little young for such gainful employment.”

It sounded vaguely familiar but the Sith Apprentice was not terribly focused on business ventures. She played the game of war, occasionally dabbling in contracts for the sake of the Confederacy, but otherwise, she excelled in removing heads, over making deals. “Enlighten me. What sort of services do you offer?”

It was then that [member="Er'in Tenel"] passed her wink and the silvery woman inclined her head to the dark-haired Hapan. Her state of dress was interesting, however, it had been a long time since she had actually seen her sister-apprentice. She also noted that the Queen of Relovian, [member="Vyra Silara"], had found time to attend and she wondered if her ever faithful bodyguard [member="Kyle Ajahn"] was lingering somewhere nearby.

Still, lightly amused, she didn’t really feel comfortable leaving the sandy-haired boy alone. It was a strange dichotomy to feel compassion where it was perhaps misplaced, over moments before, burning with irritation born of Adjudicator Harrison. Realizing that they were standing in the middle of the walkway she gestured toward a table off to the side. Surely, the Longhouse had some sort of food or drink they could order that the Echani would consider suitable for both herself and her new young friend.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you here with someone? Or have you come alone?”, she spoke to Sor-Jan, completely ignorant of his Anzat heritage, despite being a little thrown by her senses. Young and old. It was strange, however, not the galaxy was a wide, fascinating and bizarre place.

 

[Asher Mossa]

"Believe me, I know," Asher replied. The spirits were always aware, and Lylek especially. "I have been having an ongoing argument with one of them. I would guess that's why you are here."

Asher was perceptive. The same excuses he gave Lylek were given to [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], but she seemed to not be having any of them. How could he convince her this was different when she had lived a curse herself. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to give in. If he could not recognize the truth in her words than it would lead to him leaving again, and this time Asher didn't want to.

"If it helps, I want you to be right. Believe me, the last thing I want is for this draw I have to the Confederacy, to the Mandagora, to be the thing that kills it. Yes, as along as the spirits are there this will never die, but the people around me will. My life would be indebted to the Mandagora if the spirits can break this curse.

He had to admit it. There would be no getting Katrine off his back otherwise. Of course, his frustration had led him to be rude, and drink had made him easily irritated. Still, Asher continued to drink. It numbed the pain, even if it didn't bury it. The chain which held his wife's ring was pulled off his neck and sat on the table. A sigh escaped his lips.

"I have tried to bury this curse before, and instead it cost the life of my wife and son. No father should outlive their child, and yet I have. Do you know how much it hurts knowing, KNOWING, that I am the cause of it? I want to be close again... to someone, have a family, know I can belong to a tribe again, but as long as this shadow is over me I can never be certain. At least now you know why I drink as much as I do."

Asher nodded when she told him he needed to lighten up, but now she knew his fear. Ironically it was the first time he had admitted it out loud. That was when he noticed [member="Vyra Silara"] walk past them and leave the hall. It piqued his curiosity enough to look away from the blonde witch to see if her blonde handmaiden had accompanied her as well. It was a brief glance, unfruitful, before he returned his gaze to the woman in front of him.

"You don't need to worry about me, and I promise I will let this go. Just promise me that you will help search out a solution?"

Post 6

 

[Tha'ga Temi]

“Yes, why yes, balance-”

Tha’ga stopped as Mr. Harrison appeared distracted momentarily, yet that wasn’t a difficult thing to believe. With the wooden door to the drinking hall still open, she could hear the raucous activity inside, the glasses clinking together, loud, bellowing laughs, music, gaiety.

“You must have very good hearing. All I can hear is a cloud of din.” Jeez what a square you are, Tha’ga. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

She shifted from one foot to the other and responded, “The perpetrators of the terrorist attacks on Hapes are still on the loose. No one has been punished as far as I can tell. It truly remains a mystery. But I believe my sister. She was quite confident that the Sith had infiltrated The Free World Coalition to the point of jeopardizing Hapes.”

And then Tha’ga said something that seemed to transcend her naivety, and if not, explained her strict loyalty to her home world. “I know that it may seem imbalanced at times on Hapes - women as absolute rulers. Men as… common servants? Yet there is a method to our madness steeped in our long history. Upset that balance and like an apple cart, fruit will spill out to rot in the streets.” The same way a drunken guest spilled out of the doorway and passed out in one of the nearby bushes next to the pair.

Post 7 | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Objective: Playing Drinking Games
Tags: Darth Metus Srina Talon Riggs Anya Malvern Er'in Tenel Ahani Najwa
Post: Two

'Rini must be on poor form.

Erin felt the twitch of anger from across the room and smiled warmly, looking over at Anastasia as she did so.

This was a critical error - balancing the Aing-Tii meditation stone was designed as a childs task to allow the race to view the force through every perspective, to a Jedi or Sith it required a honed sense of balance and perception and the ability to step outside of your own belief structure, even if only a little. So far, all Erin had really managed to learn was to levitate the stone... well that and some truly bizarre vision quests. Legendary teleportation it was not.

Her momentary spark of joy at a fellow's anger allowed a crack in her focus, a crack Anastasia could easily penetrate, with predictably unpredictable effects.

The stone went black, then grey, before shifting it's entire structure to somewhat resemble a broken mix of pure black and a sharp, vibrant set of colours, all divided by the strange metallic bands. Then it shot out of Erin's hand at a thankfully subsonic speed and bounced off the roof, heading in a wild direction.

For all that, Erin's outward poise was unruffled.

"Certainly, if you can catch it. It took me four weeks of trying for four hours a day just to get it sit still." She replied politely, apparently unconcerned by the damage her rogue meditation projectile might do.

[member="Srina Talon"] [member="Anastasia Verd"]

 

[Eirene]

"Kel…" Eirene was smiling despite her chastising tone. "Put them down."

"What, these?" Her younger brother, in a deft flash of movement, added yet another empty clay mug to the three he was already juggling, throwing them higher and higher as he kept time with the music.

"Don't be smart." The Handmaiden cast a glance for her mother, who'd gone to refill her bowl of stew. "You'll drop them, it'll be a mess and this is not the place to make a scene. This is an officia-"

Kel laughed. "It's already a scene, sister." He was right. There were more than a few eyes on him at this point. A handful of people already deep in their drinks were even cheering him on.

Eirene clenched her jaw and sighed through her teeth, but she was more amused than truly irritated. She'd forgotten how annoying his showboating could be.

And she'd forgotten how much she'd missed it.

"And this is why I can't have nice things at home anymore," her mother, Serra, rolled her eyes as she arrived at Eirene's side, bowl steaming with fresh stew and baked bread. The woman shook her head in helpless exasperation, but the expression on her face matched that of her daughter. "He broke two plates this morning trying to balance them on his head. And that little statue of the goddess Hel'lima you used to play with, Eirene, though that was weeks ago."

"No, not my 'lima?!" Eirene balked at her, genuinely disappointed.

"Mm," Serra confirmed around a mouthful of savory meat and gravy. "Sorry, dear. I tried to fix it. Perhaps your father can patch it up when he returns." The woman's grey eyes glazed over a little, as if remembering another time. "He was always better at fixing things than I was…"

The tiny crowd gasped, some in clear disappointment as Kel 'almost dropped' one of the mugs. Eirene watched the waterfall of emotions on her mother's face at the mention of her father. They ended in distant pain. "He's still not back yet?" she ask hesitantly, voice quieter.

"It's been nine months." Serra stared at Kel, her mind somewhere else. "We get the credits he sends back, of course, and a holomessage every once in a long while. You know how demanding his customers are. I sent him a holo last week, told him about the celebration. Said you'd be here. I was..hoping he'd.." She paused, suddenly very interested in her stew again. "Well! Anyway," she shrugged, smiling once again. It didn't reach her eyes this time. Serra wrapped a loving arm around her daughter, kissing her forehead. "You're here. You're home, that's what matters!" Her eyes traced the thick scar on Eirene’s cheek, a memento from her battle on Relovian.

Eirene, noting her mother’s change in topic, momentarily snuggled into Serra’s embrace, welcoming the familiar scent of spiced cakes, loamy soil and freshly cleaned cotton. "I’ve missed you," she mumbled, breaking away with a warm smile, but the hazy image of her father still hung in her mind. The handmaiden had questions. The family was used to him being absent because of his work, but as of late her mother’s holo messages had indicated there were…other reasons for his recent status, and she didn’t like the tone in her mother’s voice when talk of him rose in conversation.
Later, she assured herself. Now was not the time.

Briefly, the handmaiden pulled her gaze from her family. Crystalline blue eyes swept the crowd for the Lady Silara. The need to thank [member=Vyra Silara] for allowing her this precious time away from her duties had been forefront in her thoughts all evening, but her friend could be slippery when she wanted to be and Eirene hadn’t had a chance to approach her yet. It seemed now was one of those times. The new monarch was nowhere to be found. Mild anxiety spiked in her core. Despite enjoying her short ‘freedom’, she felt…odd being so far from Vyra, like a governess from her charge, and no matter the scene or situation her initial reactions and familiar duties never disappeared. She frowned, worry creasing her forehead. “Mum? I’ll be right b—"

There was an earsplitting crash as Kel lost his footing and all five clay mugs hit the floor one after the other, much to the audience’s drunken glee. “Alright, alright,” he waved them away, grinning. “Show’s over, friends. For now.” He swept a horribly inaccurate bow at everyone, his face bright with humor (and splattered ale). “Someone lend me some knives later, I’ll—”

“You’ll absolutely not, Kel-Ven Rendaer,” Serra roared, eyebrows raised into her hairline.

Eirene winced and laughed with the others as a few of her friends hurried over from the dancing circle, clutching at her hands. Only her desire to find the Relovian Queen made her hesitate, but in the end the pull of the music and the giggling of her friends was too powerful. Just one dance. She’d check for Vyra after. “Mum!” She called as they towed her away. “I’ll be back to clean that up!”

Serra shook her head, dismissing her daughter’s offer. “Go! Go on. Have fun! I have it.”

For once, Eirene didn’t argue with her. It had been so long since she’d joined circle. Her friends were impatient, indelicate in their pulling. She managed to dodge a lovely blonde woman engaged in conversation with someone, but her shoulder roughly caught on the woman's companion and she turned her head quickly to apologize to them as she passed… Lips parted, eyes wide with surprise, the handmaiden gaped at the man wordlessly as she was dragged away.

For she knew his face.
It was her Jedi Shield from Relovian.

She watched him as long as she could before she disappeared into the circle, a lively dance rising from the group of locals, hand in hand with the CIS as they showed them the steps.

| [member=Asher Mossa] | [member=Katrine Van-Derveld] |​

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Drinking a lot of Mead and Torturing Getting to Know [member="Asher Mossa"]; Not noticing the attention of [member="Eirene"] on Asher; Running into [member="Gerwald Lechner"]
Wearing: This
Post: Seven

Why was she here? "I'm here to try new alcohol," Katrine quickly corrected the man. "I almost went to sit down with my Uncle Isley but here you were, sitting alone, seemed like a good time to meet ya," she added. It was really as simple as that. Lylek pushing her in the direction after she had already noticed him was an added bonus. It wasn't like the spirits dictated her every move.

He wanted her to be right, not wanting for his curse to affect the Mandragora or the Confederacy. "Look at it like this. If you die, you're stuck with me. Permanently. I'm the only person in a very long radius who has an open channel to the dead." Her words came with a chuckle. It was meant to be a joke, nothing more though it was completely true. Mandragora belonged to Mandragora. They would either pass through to the Netherworld or remain somewhere in between, which meant Katrine would be the only one to hear them or see them.

Katrine continued to watch as she drank, noticing the chain on the table holding a single ring as Asher continued talking about the curse, about it taking the lives of his wife and son. "What's that?" Rings were jewelry in their culture, there was no point in them to represent anything specific, other than being somehow useful in regards to magic. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katrine knew that outsiders use rings to signify belonging but she never did quite relate rings to this. Not when Witches marked backs the way they did as a sign of property.

More drinking ensued before she'd finished her glass again and put it in front of Asher just as he asked her to promise she would help him with a solution. "We promise, Katrine spoke but out of her mouth came not only her voice but the voice of the spirits as well as she did. She herself was unaffected by this. "Remind me to show you my identification sometime. It still holds the physical manifestation of my curse. The sprits rid me of it the day I joined them. I broke the curse but they made sure it left my system for good." Since her ID always showed a date of birth far in the future, she didn't really bother changing it and that chip card held an image of the hair color she was born with, the same color Avarisa had. The physical manifestation of her curse. Most curses didn't have it or if they did, they were horrific but with her, it had been just the hair color which didn't spread to her fur. Katrine found it odd now how she had never noticed that.

"You know," she began, slightly feeling the effects of the alcohol which made her inhale a deep breath, only to stop mid way as her eyes went wide with the scent she had inhaled. "What?" Katrine asked immediately and inhaled again. It was most definitely a Lupine scent. She was absolutely sure of that as she inhaled a third time to be sure because the scent was unfamiliar. It wasn't Chloe, it wasn't Ram, it wasn't Seren, it wasn't Father, it wasn't Mother. It was none of them. Of course, Mother here didn't have the scent as she did in her own time but still, Katrine would have recognized the scent of her real Mom any day. No, this was something else entirely which she had never thought possible.

The fourth time, she inhaled, as if she wasn't sure and sure enough, the scent came to her nostrils again. Leaving the sentence unspoken, she turned half way and looked around the room. It was definitely none of the people she knew and yet it was there. It was weird. It was... "Impossible." Her thought became an outspoken word as her sapphire gaze tried to find who it was. "Excuse me, I think I'm hallucinating," Katrine declared to Asher suddenly then stood never the less. Whether she was hallucinating or not, it felt too real to ignore. "I'll be back," she continued then realized she was a bit dizzy and unsteady on her stand after having drunk all that mead while sitting down. Possibly that. Katrine had heard of things like that but she'd never actually drunk that much.

One step made, more dizziness and unsteadiness occurred. It was a good thing Katrine knew how to walk in her heels or she'd have broken her leg right then and there. Right now though, she was more interested in following the scent that had taken her attention, letting it guide her as she made her steps. Unsteady and not fully focused on the people around her, Katrine mixed in with the crowd as she felt the scent stronger now before suddenly hitting into something strong and stumbling back. "Excuse me!" Her squeaky and distracted voice stated. "I'm looking for someone, don't mind me," she said, sapphire gaze suddenly focusing on the giant in front of her, nothing but chest in her eye level before her gaze lifted to meet the face and she inhaled. More Lupine scent.

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor turned at the sound of the drunken reveller making a fool of himself out the doors and into a bush. No matter how proud a warrior, fighter, diplomat or pilot you were or what place you held in organisations, once alcohol came into the mix you became as embarrassing as the next lout.

"Dear me, seems we’re missing a right old shin-dig in there."

He stepped to the side and guided Tha’ga with his hand to be out of the way.

"And what you’re saying doesn’t seem imbalanced at all. Man. Woman. Why should one be expected to be a subservient sex in the grand scheme of things? Hapes has been a jewel in the Mid-Rim for centuries, so it means that balance has worked. And I wouldn’t doubt Tmoxin’s intel. The best way for Sith to upset balance is to do it from the inside so it essential removes their fingerprints from the smoking gun, but they are there waiting to pounce and take what they can."

Connor sucked in his bottom lip for a moment and let out a sigh. Galactic politics always seemed to be foreshadowing the inevitable and showing how decent folks were the ones who suffered.

"I do hope I’m not distracting you from the gathering, Miss Temi. Many people wouldn’t last long listening to be go on about the state of this galaxy we call our own. I’m not always hot at these social functions. I tend to just loiter, and people watch. And pick at finger food."

[member="Tha'ga Temi"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07CQC6g6jco​

The child beamed as the woman responded with a greeting of her own.

He liked this Srina person. She seemed nice.

"I'm the perfect age for Corellia Digital," the youngling answered, clearly in jest as he added, "Haven't you noticed that kids are way better with computers than are?"

The smile as he delivered the punchline lit up his eyes, pristine and clear as a cloudless sky. He could appear both cute and disarming. Which could be disquieting if one realized that the cause for his chubby cheeks were the proboscis organs concealed there, evolved for the task of picking apart the humanoid brain while still in the skull.

"We offer the full range of telecommunications services," the boy stated, his exuberance only highlighted by the animated gestures of his hands as he spoke. "Need another subspace radio line installed for your home, space station or ship? Ready to upgrade to a faster, more reliable HoloNet connection? We've got you covered from the Kathol Outback to the Core Worlds to the Mara-Parlemian Trade Corridor and the Tingel Arm."

This was a terror unlike any other. The mighty midget who felled the cortorsis wielding Yinchorri. The clone breaker who had walked through the flames of Order 66. This was... Sor-Jan the Salesman. "But, you've got a fast, reliable connection to the HoloNet... now what?" the boy posed, rhetorically, as he shifted the sales pitch from communications to subscription based services. "We've got you covered there, too. Do you like to stream holovids and movies? Our Holoflix service makes it easy to watch your shows where ever you are, on whatever device you choose."

But what would you stream on? He had that covered, too. "And if you need devices, we have a wide range of option for yourself, your starcruiser, home, speeder, or star destroyer."

He didn't know if she had a star destroyer or not, but it was a good line.

Plus, she might. He owned a company that, at first, just made datacards. And he had a whole fleet of star destroyers now. Speaking of which, "We've got hologame platforms and holo-entertainment options for the whole family," the boy said, underplaying the products that had fueled the rebirth of Corellia Digital in the modern era. Instead, he turned the conversation to it's newest foray in light of the repeated confrontations with the First Order along the Corellian Trade Spine. "And if you're worried about pirates attacking while you're out in the interstellar medium, we've even got a fleet of battle droids from starfighters to escort frigates."

Whew.

That had been a lot. As animated as he was, the boy was slightly out of breath and red-faced as he concluded the off-the-cuff delivery about Corellia Digital.

Had he come here alone?

"It's just me," the boy answered, lowering his voice slightly as he confided in the woman. "Trying to get my staff to leave the Corellian System is like trying to get a Mandalorian to take off their armor."

Of course, it was Corellia. Why would you ever want to leave? Other than the massive bar tab, huge gambling debt, possible outstanding fugitive warrant, or worse... tax collector looking to audit you.

But, enough about talking Corellia Digital. Or, talking about him, rather. Sor-Jan had come here to talk about Corellia Digital and the Confederacy. Might as well toss a fishing line out into the proverbial water. "Plus, we have a subsidiary on Druckenwell, so it seemed like getting to know the Confederacy might be past due," the boy offered, before turning the conversation back toward the woman, as she led him to one side.

"And yourself? What do you do, Miss Talon?" the child inquired curiously, as he joined her at the table.

[member="Srina Talon"]​