Dominion [RNR] The Midas Touch || Dominion of New Cov

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Lysander von Ascania Cerys Dyn Cassian Abrantes


Sibylla's datapad pinged.

What should I bid on? The Ventforged Fang is rather interesting.

She smirked, the expression flickering across her face like a secret shared with the stars.

Oh, she mused silently, so he did come after all. Typical of Lysander to arrive under a veil of mystery and still make a production of it through a message, no less.

Her manicured fingers danced across the screen with a poised but playful response:

Bid on something with color first. Then we'll talk about fangs -- sans poison, of course.​

Her hazel eyes scanned the mezzanine from behind the delicate rim of her glass fluke, sunlight hues alive beneath the soft lighting. But before she could locate him, a familiar voice drifted just behind her.

"Sibylla," he began, his voice calm and warm, "I knew you would be impossible to miss tonight."

Sibylla didn't turn right away. Instead, she lifted her glass with regal nonchalance, voice smooth as the bubbly.

"I see you still refuse to wear a single thread of color," she murmured, finally glancing over her bare shoulder at him. "Fortunately, your hair prevents you from slipping entirely into brooding melodrama."

Her gaze flicked upward toward his tousled blond mane with subtle, amused judgment. "Barely."

Before she could offer more commentary on his near-monastic fashion choices, movement beyond him caught her attention. A familiar military cut and tailored uniform.

"Ah, and look, Cassian's arrived," she said, gesturing with her glass toward her brother weaving through the crowd, a soldier even among nobles. "He might join us shortly...and try to pay no mind to the overzealous security officer hovering like a misguided shadow; apparently some wedding he heard about prompted him to ensure I have a security detail just to attend." she added with mild annoyance.

But then something pricked at her -- an instinctive feminine awareness. That subtle tightening of atmosphere. Someone was watching them.

Her eyes scanned the room and, after a heartbeat, locked onto the glower of a Togruta seated in one of the corner booths. Sharp, focused, and unmistakably aimed at him. Sibylla arched a brow, smile curling in practiced elegance.

"Oh my..." she drawled, leaning just a touch closer to Lysander. "Even your own Jedi look scandalized by your wardrobe. Or is it your company that offends?"

A chuckle escaped her before her attention was yanked to the holoboard as a bid flared bright.

"The sword's up. You should bid...might suit you better than your lightsaber. At least it has personality." A teasing glance, only for her eyes to narrow. Someone else placed a bid on the J-type.

A distinct competitive glint returned to her eyes, "No, no, we're not doing that." With practiced ease, she entered a counter-bid.

Let the evening begin!

Bid: J-type Apailana-class Elite Transport - 10,500 UCS

 

[Rojuhr Pouihl]

​

Mission Entry:
.

OBJECTIVE I:​

All That Glitters

Here for security purposes under the guise that I am bidding on auction items at the Mishra tapcafe in Ilic. A very strange use of my skill set, but orders are orders. I do not know anyone here, and that is playing to my advantage as I can hide in plain sight. This is an operation more in line with the skill set to Tantor, too bad he has no interest in speaking to me right now, maybe everI hope to complete this mission quickly and without incident. The sooner I can leave, the better. I don't like being here, but I have no choice. I'll just have to make the best of it and get the job done. What exactly that job is, I am not sure.

Interesting items…

I said this to open air I guess. However I have money to spend for the purpose of blending in. Maybe I can get the kid (Michael) something. Definitely not the bike, his mom could just give him one if he wanted. Speaking of the kid, I couldn’t help but overhear a woman, looking an awful lot like a Jedi, talking to a droid about him. I really hope he isn’t overthinking that exchange.

When I pulled out my datapad to make bids, it was only after I looked everything over.


Parallax Crystal 2000

Shiraya's Embrace 2500

J-type Apailana-class Elite Transport - 12000

Sibylla Abrantes , Phylis Alince

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn turned with an easy, knowing smile the moment he heard her voice, warmth already blooming across his features before she even finished the words "Hey stranger!"

“Force,” he murmured, “you look gorgeous.”

It wasn’t performative. No half-teasing tone. Just honesty, pure and familial and full of the kind of love that comes from a thousand late-night talks, shared glances across crowded rooms, and the painful miracle of surviving things you don’t always talk about.

His hand reached out—not to shake, not to salute—but to rest briefly over hers in that absent-minded way that only the closest of siblings ever seemed to do.

“I remember when I used to dream about stuff like this,” he said softly, eyes drifting across the jungle-lit hall where the ceremony had just ended. “Knightings. Honor. Destiny.” His gaze turned back to her, the smile widening but softening. “But lately… it’s all starting to mean something else.”

A beat passed, rich with meaning he didn’t need to say aloud.

“Cybelle’s glowing, by the way. It’s too soon to feel kicks, but I swear when she sleeps, I can see him dreaming. Or her.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maker help the galaxy if it’s twins. I’ll have to ask you for a crash course.”

His tone settled again, more grounded now, but still gentle. “You ever think about how far we’ve come? You, me, Bri. It's like we’ve all been on our own roads, but somehow we keep ending up in the same place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, head tilting. “Everything okay though? You snuck up on me like you were about to ask for bail money or confess to some grand scandal. Should I be worried?” There was a wink then, the old Brandyn peeking through the grown-up Jedi veneer. “You know I’d cover for you. No questions asked.”

| OUTFIT: Glitterstim original |
| TAG: Blaire Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren |

​

 

[Phylis Alince]

Verity Suun Phillip Slate Makai Dashiell Nolan Knightfall Sibylla Abrantes

Objective 1



More people filed in to the room, and the bids started flying out. However, Phylis did have time to share a few comments with people she knew and didn't.

A woman in a military uniform sat beside her. Phylis was not an expert on uniforms, but she could hear one of them call her 'Admiral'. Interesting.

"Hmm? Oh yes, romantic fiction, and quite…hmm…odd subjects too, I might say! Not really my chosen field of interest. Some people value them quite highly for entertainment." She paused a moment. "Hmmph, and amusement in some cases!"

"Well, anyway, may the Force be with you, Admiral. I think competition will be, hmm, stiff." Certainly no innuendo intended; Phylis was quite oblivious to that.



The next entrant of interest was a business looking sort, a human male who laid down a bunch of bids, including on the items she was interested in. Hmm, problematic, but she had some resources. She started inputting her own counter bids.



Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a somewhat familiar figure. Makai Dashiell! The name came to her. She didn't know the half-Galan well, but back in the day she had worked with his father and mother somewhat. Hmm, that made her feel rather old.

He also had some interactions with her zone of interest with space elves and their manifold issues, so that was something.

Unable to get over to him, she nonetheless gave him a wave.



Another ping on her datapad. Ah, someone had finally bid for her crystal! She looked at the name and glanced around, seeing the young Padawan. She bustled over to him.

"Ah, Phillip, you are well, I trust?" she asked with a smile. "I do hope you get the crystal. Not easy to come by but, hmm, worth the effort I think."

She had no sooner said that her datapad pinged. "Ah, hmm, looks like someone's beat your bid."



Bids:

Stone of Echoes: 3,200

Moonveil Pendant: 1,200

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

OBJECTIVE I:
All That Glitters
Sibylla Abrantes | Cerys Dyn | Cassian Abrantes

Lysander acknowledged the raised glass with a subtle inclination of his head. The faintest tug at the corner of his mouth appeared, an expression that could have easily been missed; but more than that, it was a smile that only graced his lips during their verbal spars.

It was only natural that the conversation would begin with fashion critiques. “You could just simply state that you disapprove. It’d be much faster. And more honest, too. Though I must admit, avoiding the orange aesthetic was clearly the wisest move you’ve made for this event.”

The acolyte’s focus turned to Cassian, assessing him; though, it wasn’t in the manner of sizing someone up, but rather of genuine curiosity. And as a brother to someone who held a special place in the heart, the overzealous comment was felt more than heard. The words that edged their way to the tip of his tongue were neither sharp nor witty; instead, he was calm as the waters of Naboo's lakes. “Then I look forward to finally meeting him, should he decide to join us.”

A hand drifted to the pendent against his chest under the black tunic; it was Corazona von Ascania 's gift, something that traveled with him everywhere, even if the dried bota blossoms were rendered useless amidst the darker influences of the Outer Rim. In that moment, Lysander realized just how much he missed the other blonde.

When his attention shifted to the next figure, mirth suddenly entered his tone. The Togruta could’ve been spotted a mile away. “That’s just Cerys.. always brooding, always searching for something to be upset about. She’s also a Padawan under Master Brandyn.. I doubt she knows what is even bothering her this time.”

A mental note was placed aside; he would need to check on her before the night was over.

Casting a final glance, fingers slid through his silky strands of hair, a gesture that was both effortless and one of habit.

Stepping forward, he positioned himself next to the girl, glancing up at the holoboard. He couldn't help but shake his head while chuckling, as the comments were still coming. "No, I think I’ll pass. I’ll stick with the lightsaber that’s already tasted victory— and tasted it quite well at that.” Memories of Woostri dared to surface, but he wouldn't entertain them. Not now. A smirk unfurled. "Though, I may have my sights set on something else."

Pulling up the correct app via datapad, a bid was placed.

A sidelong glance was cast to Sibylla. “Let’s be honest.. if your ego went up for auction, it’d break the entire system.”

But then, the boy's curiosity was piqued. “I feel like I've missed so much since the last time I was in the Mid Rim. What’s new on Naboo these days?”

PGEM-Pf - 1000 UCs

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys sat perfectly still in her corner booth, her fingers laced loosely in her lap. She was not here to bid. She had no credits. She was not here to socialize. She was not here to sulk. She was simply... observing.

That was the word she kept returning to. Observing.

Her eyes narrowed slightly — purely academic — as they flicked toward the mezzanine.

There he was. Of course.

Lysander. Standing beside some exquisitely dressed woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a Naboo royal portrait and directly into a perfume ad. The smelly kind.

Cerys averted her gaze quickly. Then looked back. She didn’t mean to. Her eyes just… darted. Her lekku twitched. It was fine. It wasn't fine.

She crossed her arms, then immediately uncrossed them. Her hand came up, fingers lightly brushing her chin as if deep in Jedi contemplation — but really she was mimicking his gesture from earlier. Then hers arched upward in a perfect imitation of Sibylla’s raised glass. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.

Until the internal theater began.

"Oh Lysander, your hair is like moonlight tangled in existential crisis," she mused internally, slipping into a breathy, high-society drawl that sounded vaguely like someone trying to seduce a senator.

"And your tunic! So very...black. A bold choice. Such restraint. Such mystery. Truly, you are the soul of restrained rebellion. A shadow wrapped in brocade."

Her imaginary Lysander tilted his chin up in dry disinterest. "Yes, well. Red is the color of cowards. And Naboo is overrated."

"Naturally," faux-Sibylla purred. "And I adore the way you carry the weight of your trauma in your shoulders. It's so... poetic. So angular. So brooding. Tell me again how nothing matters, slowly, while sipping something expensive and unpronounceable."

"Mm," fake-Lysander replied. "Life is pain. And also taxes."

Cerys barely suppressed a snort through her nose.

"Your presence," imaginary Sibylla went on dramatically, "is like a riddle whispered into a silk scarf during a lunar eclipse. Every time you speak, I hear violins made of unresolved parental tension."

"My only joy," internal Lysander murmured, "is watching sand slowly erode stone."

At this point, Cerys realized she was smirking — and immediately wiped it from her face like it had betrayed her.

This was getting ridiculous.

And yet... so easy.

But her imagination wasn’t done yet. Internal Sibylla stepped closer and whispered with a coy smile:

"You know, you and that Togruta would make a fine pair."

Cerys froze.

The breath caught in her throat. Her fists clenched.

"No." Her mind snapped the thought in half.

No.

What a stupid thing to say. What a stupid thing to think. What a stupid—

This was his fault. All of it. She never used to think about this sort of thing. She never used to get this… off-balance. She never used to care if someone stood a little too close to someone else.

Clearly, Lysander was leading her astray. Mentally. Morally. Cosmically. She scowled at the centerpiece on her table, as if it were complicit. And she absolutely, definitely did not glance back up again.

Even if she kind of did.

| OUTFIT: Jedi robes, practical |
| TAG: None. Especially not HER. (For real though, Lysander von Ascania Sibylla Abrantes @OPEN |
| EQUIPMENT: Smoldering resentment, no credits|

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Ala Quin

​

Lorn flexed his fingers once, the wraps snug and secure around his knuckles, before dropping into a long, deliberate stretch. The dirt beneath his bare feet was warm from the jungle sun, rough and familiar, grounding in a way few things were. Around the ring, Covie officials wandered with clipboards and murmured debates, sketching out the first match pairings. Lorn barely registered them. His focus was inward, tight as a drawn bow.

He needed this. The noise, the movement, the hit of palm against flesh, Force against Force. Anything to shake loose the weight that had coiled around his ribs during the ceremony like a second skin. The joy inside the hall had been real, bright and earned, but it wasn't his. Not today. Not with ghosts whispering in every quiet moment.

Maybe if someone hit him hard enough, no one would notice how close he was to unraveling.

He exhaled, slow and steady.

And then he felt it.

Something shifted in the air, a pull like a forgotten chord struck in the Force. His spine straightened. His breath hitched. His gaze was dragged toward the tree line where the jungle shadows lay thick and tangled.

There. Just beyond the training ring.

Isla.

His heart jerked in his chest, a reflexive ache blooming before he could suppress it. The phantom stood like she always did in his dreams.

His brows creased.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered, the words dry in his mouth.

Then her voice lilted through his skull like a breeze whispering through leaves.

"It's almost time."

Lorn's breath caught. "What?"

He blinked hard, stepping toward her, but the jungle shimmered and she was gone. Like always.

He didn't realize he was still staring until someone stepped into his peripheral vision, light and warm and utterly real.

"Ala?"

She beamed up at him, sunlight catching in her eyes, cheeks a little pink from the heat, or something else, maybe. "Miss Quin? Uhm… yeah, I am." he mumbled, blinking as he dragged his gaze back to the now-empty treeline.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around, trying to shake the ghost that had settled behind his eyes. His features pulled tight for a second before smoothing as he focused fully on her again. "Yeah… that would be crazy, I guess."

A sudden shift in energy signaled the start of the tournament. The Covie officials called out the first matchups, names echoing across the stone.

His opponent stepped forward, tall, confident, already cracking his neck.

Lorn took a step forward to meet him… then paused.

From the corner of his eye, he caught motion. Ala. Glorious, disastrous Ala.

She was trying to pull her robe off with half-wrapped hands, and was now thoroughly entangled in her own clothing like a very determined but utterly defeated blanket gremlin. There was a muffled noise of resignation.

"…Okay, this is fine." she muttered into her sleeve.

It was not fine.

For the first time that day, something soft cracked open in Lorn's chest. A smile. A real one. It tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it.

He crossed the space between them and reached out gently, careful not to startle her or overstep. "Here. I've got you."

Together, they managed to untangle her with minimal wardrobe casualties. He took a half-step back once she was free, hand dropping to his side, eyes still warm with amusement.

"Take it easy on me if we get paired up?" he said, voice low and dry with a teasing edge as he turned and jogged toward his waiting opponent.

He bowed, shallow but respectful. The match began.

And immediately, he was somewhere else.

The ghost of Isla still hovered at the edge of his mind, just out of reach. And Ala… Ala, with her stupidly bright soul, was there too, just on the other side of the sparring ring.

It was too much. Too loud in his head.

Lorn moved in, but not fast enough. His opponent's stance shifted, sharp and fluid, then the world flipped.

A burst of Force collided with his chest and the sky spun. His back hit the ground hard, knocking the air from his lungs. The dirt rose in a puff around him, warm and uncaring.

For a second, all he could do was lie there, blinking up at the leafy canopy above, wondering if maybe the Force was trying to knock some sense into him.

Time to focus Lorn. No more distractions.

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Phylis Alince Sibylla Abrantes for bets

"Hm? Oh. Master Alince. Yes. I'm doing as...well as I can be. I hope you're doing well, Ma'am. I thought I'd bet some of my allowance."

Phillip nodded. It wasn't much at the end of the day, but he wanted to try and get something. Sure, it was a bit selfish of him to care about materialistic value, but at the end of the day, it would be going to charity, right? And hey! It wasn't like he wasn't spending a fortune—PING!

His eyes dropped to look at his datapad for a moment, his face visibly falling at the sight of someone outbidding him. Now, it was more of an essential debate in his mind about what he wanted to try and go for. His parents would be mad if he wasted credits on stuff they didn't deem important. Wait. No, these were his credits. He could spend them how he liked.

And so he went to work, tapping away at the datapad as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. He could probably go for a few more raised bids before he'd have to retire from it all. His family might have been filled with artists, but Phillip wasn't made of credits. Raising his bid for the Parallax Crystal to 3000 credits.

"I was just thinking of making my own lightsaber instead of just...dealing with a training saber. There's always the option for me to go on a hunt for a crystal...but the fact I'm here means it could be a sign of the Force that this is my chance to get a crystal, right? Plus, I get to give to charity...so it's a win-win."

 

[Ruus Kote]

​

Friendly Units:
'Mirshir'verd'jurkad'gam' have been issued force wide. Vibrosaws mounted to the front of vehicles.

• 1 Strill Securities Jurkad Verde Shere'shoy Mechanized Infantry Battalion
  • 1st Company deployed
• Ruus Kote's HQ Company

Equipment

Armor Implant(s) Equipment Melee Sidearm(s) Rifle(s) Explosives

• 
  
  • 'Mirshir'verd'jurkad'gam'
  • Equipment Mount: Empty.
  • Back Weapon Mount: A-03S Verpine Shatter Autocannon
    
    • GVSR-SAMR Guided APFSDS Magazine (1)
    • GVSR-HEIAPAMR Guided HEIAP Magazine (1 loaded, 1 spare)
    • GVSR-FAMR Guided Flechette Magazine (1)
  • Right Gauntlet and Vambrace: 'Rammikad b' Marev' Gauntlet and Vambrace
    
    • Dartcaster:
      
      • Electro Darts (1 loaded, 2 reserve)
    • Weapon Mounts:
      
      • Left:
        
        • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
      • Top:
        
        • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
          
          • Cretanr'ika-lcass Guided Plasma Micro-missiles (4)
          • Striilir'ika-class Brilliant Micro-missiles (Baradium) (4)
      • Right:
        
        • PC-05V Plasma Caster
          
          • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
  • Left Gauntlet and Vambrace: 'Verd b' Surhaai' Gauntlet and Vambrace
    
    • Weapon Mounts:
      Left:
      
      • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
      • Top:
        
        • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
          
          • Cretanr'ika-lcass Guided Plasma Micro-missiles (4)
          • Striilir'ika-class Brilliant Micro-missiles (Baradium) (4)
      • Right:
        
        • PC-05V Plasma Caster
          
          • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
  • Utility Belt Loadout:
    
    • Hardcase Spring-loaded Ammunition Pouches
    • Hardcase Spring-loaded Grenade Pouches
    • Hardcase Large Satchel
    • Softcase Large Storage Pouches (dump pouch)
    • Magnetic Clamp
  • Load-bearing Rig Loadout:
    
    • Hardcase Spring-loaded Ammunition Pouches
    • Hardcase Spring-loaded Grenade Pouches
    • Central Secondary High Capacity Rylith Power Cell
    • Medium and Large Gription Panels
  • Holster Setup:
    
    • 1x chest-rig mounted
    • 2x belt-mounted
    • 1x thigh mounted (dominant hand side)
• 
  
  • 'Verd' Enhancement Package
  • 'Gar Tkiriyr' Neural Interface
• 
  
  • 'Shushai Rugam' Sensor Sphere (2)
  • Vehicle Tool Kit
• 
  
  • K-04 Skirata Ehn-ky'kal Kal (2)
  • K-03 Kal(1)
• 
  
  • RP-05A Ripper Pistol
    
    • 'Kyrayc Sur'haai'-M 1-4x Short Range Optic
    • 'Drala Sur'haai' Targeting Laser/Illuminator
    • Ammunition:
      
      • GRR-APR Guided Armor-Piercing Magazine (1 loaded, 2 spare)
      • GRR-FR Guided Flechette Magazine (3)
• 
  
  • AR-2CQB Verpine Assault Rifle
    
    • 'Kyrayc Sur'haai'-M 1-12x Medium Range Optic
    • 'Drala Sur'haai' Targeting Laser/Illuminator
    • UGL-02 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher
      
      • Ammunition:
        
        • BG-02 Baradium Grenade (1 in the chanmber, 5 in the tube)
    • Ammunition:
      
      • GVSR-SR Guided SLAP Magazine (1 loaded, 2 spare)
      • GVSR-FR Guided Flechette Magazine (3)
• 
  
  • TG-02 Trihexalon Grenade (6)​
  • BG-02 Baradium Grenade (4)​
  • NGG-02 Nagnol Gas Grenade (2)​
  • AWCGG-02 Anti-Energy Weapon Countermeasure Gas Grenade (2)​

[/slide]

Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal
Verbor'ad ures aliit
Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se
Kote lo'shebs'ul narit.

​

Two companies was not what he would have taken to find what was arguably this planet's most valuable resource. Unfortunately, two companies were all that would be able to make any meaningful shabla progress while escorting the convoy. This planet seemed to be filled with flora and fauna that were determined to make life, theirs and everyone else's, absolutely kadtape. Thankfully, he had a few things to say about that.

He'd been pushing for a less jury rigged solution to foliage clearing than the usual method of mol-welding industrial-grade vibrosaws to the front of their vehicles and wiring switches onto their control panel, but for now they would do. This time, however, they were packing trihex grenades. Officially a last-resort in the event that things didn't feel like dying to Verpine shatter weapons, railguns, rippers, phased pulse cannon, disruptors or any of the rest of the considerable firepower they'd brought, the trihex grenades were going to be the final word in any argument they had with this dini'la planet.

His command tank was in lead. The other super-heavy tanks in his HQ company were occupying flanking and rear positions relative to the main convoy. Mirta's IFVs were interspersed through the convoy. The repulsorcraft could easily outrun them, but he wagered they wouldn't last long on their own. Nothing ever did out here. In fact he wagered the only reason they hadn't been probed yet was because whatever dema'golka entity governed things on this planet had a taste of their firepower once before and was not keen on facing it head on again. Mir'dala. If they had some clue as to where this font of miracle osik was, he'd have ordered a full incendiary bombardment of clear a path to their objective. Not that he was under the illusion that the planet wouldn't reclaim it within the day.

"Ke'gyce 6, you remember our time on Jaro'yaim, 'lek?" chimed in Mirta rhetorically over the command frequency. Jaro'yaim was a world in the Breshig system the initial settlers found to be so much like Dxun that they turned it into a hunting preserve complete with a lot of the same apex predators from Dxun. The company conducted its jungle warfare training on that world. He, Mirta and Aamer had all trained together.

"I try to forget it, tion'jor?" he replied, shaking the memories of being stalked by all manner of osik from his head.

"Well it's just that I get the same feeling, only we haven't been hit yet," she responded. So Mirta was getting the same feeling that they were being studied.

"It's trying to figure out how to digest composite plate," he deadpanned. "Hopefully it decides it doesn't want to try," he added. Mirta's acknowledgement signal flashed in his HUD. Taking a breath, Ruus decided to raise the convoy to remind them to stay on watch as well, "Escort lead to convoy, keep your eyes open and don't forget to keep your arms and legs inside the vehicles at all times unless you aren't attached to them. You certainly won't shabla be if you do."

 

[Tasia Palpatine]

OBJECTIVE 2
Knighting of Tasia Palpatine

​

Carrying: Palpatine's Saber, Hunting gear, Kiffar Blade, Underwater breather
Wearing: Raiments of Shiraya


At the auction

A young gungan man stepped forward at the auction on behalf of his friend Tasia Palpatine "Meesa gonna bid on dem items for Miss Tasia Palpatine. Meesa bid um...

3000 credits for Shiraya's embrace
1000 credits for the ventforged fang

Thissa bombad gungan sword for a lady warrior.

And um 1500 credits for dem naughty booksa." he laughed and slapped his hand on his knees before leaning next to one of the other onlookers. "Meesa thinkum Tasia needsa date?"



at the knighting

Shirayan Knight Tasia Palpatine smiled and bowed low to her grand master. "Thank you grandmaster Briana Sal-Soren , I swear to my you and my order that I shall continue to do my best to uphold our values and to be a light in the galaxy." as she rose she felt different, elated, part of something bigger. She was a happy. Her learner was the first to run over and grabbed her for a hug, the young girl had not yet learned the decorum to wait and nor wolas Tasia in and hurry to train that out of her for a little longer.

The new Knight looked around at the cheering jedi and thanked them all with a look. Now would begin festivities, as always she looked forward to watching the warriors spar, the new cov champions would have their hands full with Lorn Reingard and she got the sensation there was others in the crowd that might also like their hands full with Lorn.

Would he be fighting Ala Quin ? The woman looked like she was already losing a battle with her own robe as she undressed.

Tasia felt ready for a fight herself but was content to watch for now.

 

[Rojuhr Pouihl]

​

Mission Entry:
.

OBJECTIVE I:​

All That Glitters

Sitting at a table with a cup of caf is not very social, but then again, it’s just as well, it isn’t supposed to be. Though I would like to have a calm chat with someone, I am here to work, and everyone else here seems to have a +1. The reason for the subterfuge is to find the stolen piece of data hidden in one of the ships that are up for auction.

Reading my datapad, I found that two of the three items I was bidding on had been outbid. Facial recognition software showed me that one of them was bid on by a kid, a Phillip Slate . I am not going to rob a kid of something he probably saved up for, so I will focus on the other, and up that bid.

Just in case, I will up the bid on the ship and sip my caf.

Parallax Crystal 2000 backed out of bidding.

Shiraya's Embrace 4500

J-type Apailana-class Elite Transport - 12500 upped just in case

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Skinsuit | Jumpsuit - Sans Helmet | Poncho
Bracelet | Echo Stone
Lightsaber | Turmoil | Concealed Blaster​

Lossa had watched silently from afar.

She was supposed to be taking a backseat to things going on. Easing her mind as much as her body. But being restless as she was, she couldn't ignore the formality of a knighting ceremony. Especially after flubbing her own. Offering quiet congratulations to Tasia before taking a spot away from those gathered for the moment to slide her datapad out and turn it on to examine the items up for bid.

Hiding for the time being in a shaded area to avoid her screen becoming glared over while she tapped out her bids on the screen and sent them in.

Allowing herself a moment to simply enjoy. The simpler things. Hearing the sounds of others. Feeling the breath of nature. To bask in the living Force that surrounded her in this place of celebration. Her eyes eventually landing on the gathered family that seemed to be enjoying themselves. The smile fading slowly as she heard the whispers of their conversation from this distance.

A gloved hand held to her stomach.

An ache settling into her heart as she tried to reconcile the sudden sting of bitterness. It wasn't their fault. And they were enjoying the moment. Sharing happy news.

This wasn't a slight or a barb aimed at her. They were family. Closer than her own blood even. She wanted to be happy for them. And she would be. Was.

Swallowing the lump in her throat and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve before daring to make an appearance that would interrupt the joy that radiated from them. Eventually making her way over in time to hear something about bail money and covering for someone.

"Does someone need help hiding a body?" She interjected, albeit in a hushed tone. Eyes scanning between them.

Sibylla Abrantes
1,000 UC Bid on the Tusk Cat class Jedi cruiser
4,000 UC Bid on the Parallax Crystal
1,000 UC Bid on the "Crotch Rocket" Speeder/Swoop Bike
2,000 UC Bid on the First Edition Signed Lady Velvet Novels Set​

| Briana Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren | Blaire Sal-Soren | Bastila Sal-Soren​

 

[Dagos Terrek]

Obj 2

Dag left the enclave hall where the knighting ceremony had taken place.

He never shoulda came in the first place. All this Jedi chit wasn't really for him. Maybe it used to be…no feth that, it was never for him, he'd known that all along but Blaire wanted to come. She wanted to surprise her siblings and Dagos wasn't just her pilot he was her escort and if she wanted to come out into the jungle and look in on chit that neither one of them could have, well he was stuck looking too. Not that he minded being stuck with Blaire, no, not at all, chit, he liked being stuck with Blaire or he had until they got here.

Chit, until they got to the enclave it was cool. She hadn't ignored him like she sometimes did. He had got her to laugh at like three of his jokes and she even let him help her in and out of the shuttle that brought them from the domed city out here into the jungle, and too top all that chit off she had wove her arm through his and let him escort her into the enclave like he was really her protector.

He knew better. He knew that she didn't really take him serious; but every once in a while, she saw him. She would look at him, not like he was some over eager kid, but like he was a man and that look was everything.

They'd stood in the dark of the enclave hall and watched the Jedi get knighted by the order's grand master, who it turned out was Blaire's sister, who it also turned out that Dagos knew…sorta, they'd been at a life day party together once years ago. Bri had been a padawan then too and now she was grand master of a whole sect of Jedi and Dagos was…still some over eager kid.

That was some depressing chit to think about. Blaire musta picked up on his sour ass mood because in a move that Dagos did not think fit this woman he had been flying back and forth from Malastare to Naboo, she tried to make him feel better. She tried poking around asking how he felt or whatever and Dag kinda just ignored her cuz chit what was he gonna say?

'I feel like an ass'

'That should be me in that circle'

Nah, he wasn't bout to say any of that. He knew he was letting Caltin Vanagor down but what fething good was it to say it.

Dagos' mood got significantly better though when Blaire told him he could go out to the training area and spar or whatever it was that they was doin out here.

Dagos joined those who were already preparing to fight. Well, kinda he did. He was outside in the heat of the jungle, which didn't bother him a bit. He was from Haruun Kal. The jungle was home. always would be.

Dagos didn't join the other Shiraya Jedi, the ponytailed one or the one with the pointy ears, he went over to a place on his ownish. The other fighters seemed to be getting undressed to a point so Dag started to as well. He removed his chrono, which he had spent something like three thousand credits on, took off his jacket, another five hundred some credits, his shirt, and his eight hundred credit boots. He wasn't bare chest like the long haired Jedi at the other set of mats, he was still rocking a tank top and his chain.

Dag started wrapping his hands and very discreetly eyed the potential competition. Chit, really there wasn't any. Dagos wasn't worried about a single mutha sucka here, they was all light work. He had been sector champion in k'thri and that was before he was trained as a Jedi, and if that chit ain't count for nothing he also grew up on Nar Shaddaa. If Dag didn't know chit, he knew how to scrap.

Dagos, stretched and did a light bit of shadow boxing. While Dagos was warming up, in the other ring, the first of the bouts was beginning. Pointy ears got stuck in her robes until shirtless pony guy helped her out. Pony guy ended up drawing one of the locals, Dagos knew he was a local cuz he dressed the same as like every other dude.

It didn't take long for the Covie to send pony guy spinning through the air and landing on his ass.

Dagos almost doubled over from laughter. One stuck in their robes and another getting whooped in their first fight.

Light fething work.

Lorn Reingard Ala Quin

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

“Stay here.”

They had been the last thing Brandyn had said to her. He had insisted that even though she was here it was best for her not to be reunited with everyone in the middle of what Bast was starting to understand a very big deal for her Sister’s new pet project.

So off he had went. All dressed up and presentable, leaving her to herself in room that allowed her to bathe in fresh water for the first time in…oh she couldn't even remember.
The hot water was glorious, every ache and pain that had seeped into her disappearing as she led there, ears covered just enough to shut up all the surrounding noise and allow her to think quietly.

Then she opened her eyes.

This was boring. She wanted to go to the party too, she had never been allowed when they all lived at home, or at least she was when she was put on presentation as the youngest and future potential. So for Bran to even have the galls to say Stay Here. He was challenging her, he knew she wouldn’t be able to surely?

She had removed herself from the bath and gotten changed into what was in the words of others in her family, common attire. A simple black set that was not notable by any stretch of the imagination, her hair had already started to frizz in the air as it dried and that meant she was ready to abandon any attempt to tame it today, so it just got tied back and after her lightsaber and blaster were attached to her belt, freshly returned to her from some particularly rude pirates she was out of the door and off into the crowds beyond.

---------------------------------------------------------------​

Bastila had always been a specialist at hiding. While she was sure Brandyn was expecting her to not listen to him, it was probably best that he didn’t actually catch her not listening to him. So for all intents of keeping it low she kept her force signature well hidden, a skill she had picked up while on a production moon on the eastern rim investigating criminal slave movements after it became apparent it was being ran by several rogue Jedi elements.
This meant she could move through the crowds with fairly oblivious abandon, a hood kept her face roughly hidden from glancing eyes and in all purposes she was just another of the group gathering for a knighting ceremony.

Then she saw her.
It was almost uncanny how much she looked like her, but then the three Sal-Soren sisters all bore the same similarities across them. However it really struck Bastila at that exact moment as Briana spoke, addressing the crowd around her. It was like looking in a mirror. A mirror that gave you uncomfortable truths.

She wanted to walk right up to her and punch her, laugh at her, hug her, ask for her to stay with her. It was an emotional train that ran through her head and settled somewhere in her gut like a punch that left a horrible bruise. She almost forgot to hold everything under wraps for a second, nearly announcing to every member of the family that she was there; fortunately she managed to hold it, but she had to look away find something else to concentrate on.

She noticed Brandyn, walking towards and talking to someone who was blocked to her by a group of people. She nearly caught his eye, but pulled her hood tighter and shifted behind the form of rather largely built man who really didn't look like he belonged here, not that she looked the part any better.

She let out a small breath. What was she doing? Why was she here? Surely she should just jump on the first transport out of here and just let them all forget about her again. She wasn’t wanted, she wasn’t needed.

“Hopefully the tourney will start soon. That's the only reason I came.” The man said to a smaller alien stood next to him. “I hear they ain’t allowed to use their lightsabers. Should be interesting.”
Bastila tapped him on the arm.

“Did you say Tourney?”

“Ya, for the knighting. A way to show off and all that. Should be fun.”

Bastila felt the smile on her lips become oh so obvious. “Yeah…fun.” Maybe there was a way she could entertain herself afterall.



Briana Sal-Soren Brandyn Sal-Soren Blaire Sal-Soren

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Objective: 1
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes Lysander von Ascania

The bids had started off well, a sense of calm as they usually tended to do. The feeling that stuck with him was knowing that they tended to get a little wild towards the middle. Then at the end things would take calm turn, relish in their victories and their defeats.

As other things could be easily compared to.

Cass had made a point to seek out his mother and congratulate her on the event thus far. He rightfully assumed things would go well throughout the proceedings, primarily the atmosphere of the place. The ability to laugh and have a good time, it eased so much worries in the minds and hearts of those present.

And would bring much relief for those the proceedings would go to. A few small words that were exchanged as he did not wish to take up to much of her time, it was incredibly busy night for her. Giving her the voice that should she need help with anything to reach out.

"I saw Sibylla upon my arrival, I shall see how she is faring in the auctions thus far." He gave his mother a polite kiss on the cheek before departing. Cassian carried himself with a strong poised and grace, he smiled to those that crossed his path. Greetings to those that wished to speak with him, before he finally was in earshot to Sibylla and another individual whom he hadn't the pleasure of meeting yet.

"Sibylla." Cassian said with a happy and light tone. He was about to ask if she had began to bid yet when he heard her counter to the bid. "It has begun then, I wish you good luck Sister." The young man showing her a smile and giving her a light hug.

"Apologies, my name is Cassian Abrantes." He extended his hand towards Lysander, giving him a friendly greeting. "I'm sure Sibylla has mentioned me a time or two. How is the auction going thus far?"

 

[Ala Quin]

​

Ala's breath caught the moment she saw Lorn hit the dirt.

It was a clean, heavy fall—one of those thuds that you felt just by watching. She instinctively stepped forward, heart jumping into her throat, concern flaring bright and unfiltered.

She wanted to go to him. To rush over, help him sit up, maybe crack a joke to ease the embarrassment, or just… be there. Like she used to be for someone else.

But that was foolish. He didn’t need her pity. And this wasn’t about her.

So she stayed where she was, back straight, fists lightly clenched. She kept her expression neutral. Jedi composure. Jedi stillness.

Still, her eyes didn’t leave him. Not until he stood.

Something tight and painful unspooled in her chest. Not because he was hurt—but because she missed someone.

Not him.

Kaila.

It was an ache that never announced itself politely. It just arrived—unwelcome, uninvited, and always too much. She hadn’t meant to think of her. Not now. Not here. But something about the way Lorn fell, about the strength hidden under the cracks, reminded her of her. Of yellow eyes full of lightning and sorrow. Of promises made in whispers and burned away in silence.

It wasn’t fair. Not to Lorn. Not to herself. But grief wasn’t known for its fairness.

A voice cut through her thoughts—sharp, authoritative.

Her name.

Oh.

The match.

Her opponent was already waiting, centered, balanced, serene. Ala jogged awkwardly toward the ring, tugging her sleeve where it had come loose from her earlier wardrobe disaster.

She bowed, delayed and apologetic. The duel began with a rush of motion and Force.

But Ala's focus wasn’t there. Not really.

Her mind drifted to a different battlefield. A red rose. Soft touches. A laugh she still heard when she couldn’t sleep.

She saw the hit coming—saw it clearly. She just didn’t react in time.

Her opponent’s palm struck her center mass with impeccable form, and the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, staring up at a gently swaying canopy of leaves.

The breath escaped her lungs in a soft little “oof.”

For a second, she just lay there.

And then she laughed.

Quietly. Just to herself. Because of course this was how her day was going.

"Okay," she muttered into the branches. "So that's how we’re doing this."

At least Lorn wasn’t alone in his dramatic tumble. Misery, meet company.

And heartache? Well… it seemed that was still hers to carry. For now.

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Vizion Trozky]

CELEBRATION AND FISTICUFFS
JUNGLE ENCLAVE ☛ NEW COV
​

Be as it might that he was a member of the Council, presiding over a crowd of nameless faces in an unfamiliar place didn’t feel right. So when the ceremony was set to begin, Vizion was already amongst the others that had gathered to watch what was supposed to be both a solemn and happy thing, and he was happy for the Order’s newest Knight, but this particular milestone in a Jedi’s life more often than not drew his thoughts back to that tarnished spot in his own memory.

A memory that had him eying the Grandmaster more than Tasia herself as the gathering erupted into applause, until Bran got in his line of sight. It wasn’t going to get any easier. Viz turned his attention away with a sigh, his gaze landing on a hooded figure just as they shied away, tugged their hood tighter about their head, and slipped behind a much larger man and an alien to his right.

His senses piqued, in a subtle way, and his concerns were temporarily forgotten. There were few reasons for that kind of skulking around... but the suspicious figure was still lurking right where they'd hidden. No reason to do anything yet, on his part. Idly, he followed the conversation.

“Hopefully the tourney will start soon. That's the only reason I came.” The man said to the smaller alien stood next to him. “I hear they ain’t allowed to use their lightsabers. Should be interesting.”

The skulking figure tapped the large man on the arm.

"Did you say Tourney?"

"Ya, for the knighting. A way to show off and all that. Should be fun."

"Yeah... fun."

The Brentaalan spoke up, a blasé tone to his voice, while his thoughts chewed on what he'd gathered just from her speaking - it had a familiar something to it... Nabooian?

"Way I heard it," Viz crossed his arms and his jacket tightened around them in response, as he canted his head to look at the three of them, "it's not supposed to be fun for them." He unfurled a hand, briefly gesturing to the Jedi up front before it returned to the fold. "Enjoying it leads to the dark side or somethin'."

Bastila Sal-Soren • Blaire Sal-Soren • Brandyn Sal-Soren • Briana Sal-Soren​