Seven Seas | CIS Dominion of Leritor

[Lyla Quinn]

Location – The Entrance Stairs
Gown And Mask – Shades of Fire
Goal – Get To The (Choppa) Beach! Preferably without making a complete fool of herself.
Guest – [member=Irma Olanthe]
Posts Made – 2
Interacting With- [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]

“Oh, hey! Van-Derveld! Your name precedes you, nice to finally put a face to it!” Quinn chirped excitedly, grabbing the petite woman’s slender hand and giving it a hearty shake. She’d heard whispers of Katrine's power and her integral role in the CIS, especially during the last invasion. A 'spellweaver', they called her? THE spellweaver? She wasn't privy to all the details. The Twi'lek was still piecing together the puzzle of names, faces, duties and abilities of those involved with the organization, but 'Van-Derveld' was a big deal, that much she knew for sure. Katrine was striking, her pale angelic beauty and crisp, vivid sapphire eyes a source of momentary fascination for the smuggler. People didn’t look like that where she came from, and if they did you'd never know it because it was hidden under a layer of grease and three weeks of no showers. Her hair was several hundred shades lighter than Irma's lovely sun-gold locks, almost matching the silvery tresses of Srina Talon, whom she'd literally run into during the last party, and there was a sharp wisdom to Katrine's soft face and bright smile that Quinn couldn't quite fit with the rest of the picture. Like she knew a hell of a lot more about life than one would think.

"Lyla Quinn, very much still a noob around here, but I learn quickly." Quinn smoothed nervous palms over her glimmering gown, giving the skirts a skeptical glance as she commented on the dress. "Thank you! You think it's okay? My..'gown-maker' has a sense of humor, all I asked for was 'unique'. Guess she got that right," she snorted, eyeing the shape of Katrine's dress with an impressed expression. "It glows, but it sure doesn't cut a figure quite like yours. You look lovely. This whole place is stunning," she enthused, sweeping the room with her hand. "I think the closest I've ever been to this level of extravagant was watching it on reality holonet shows."

There was a flash outside the tall glass doors leading outside. Holographers? No, there's another one. A few drops of water hit the windowpanes, trailing like tears across the glass. A storm, then. Damn. She'd been hoping to escape outside for a few minutes at least.

 

[Derek Dib]

On the balcony he leaned on the mahogany rail overlooking the party. Dressed in a charcoal suit with a crimson tie on a black shirt he blended with the other equally sophisticatedly dressed. On his face was a simple black mask reminiscent of the old sword fighting heroes on the holovids. A small smile creased his bearded face as he watched members of the Confederacy enjoying themselves for once. No fighting, no blood shed, no death. Just an air of relaxation and fun.

Vastly different then what CIS space had been of late.

Walking down the stairs he was offered an Alderaan ale from one of the passing waiters and acquiesced, collecting the flute, before continuing his descent. Merging into the crowd he wandered aimlessly while enjoying the time of respite. Engaging in political maneuvering, assassinations, and war had left him with very little time of his own, and Viceroy was a very demanding position. One that he had wondered often, as of late, why he took the role. But the answer was clearly evident at the good he was doing for the people in the Siskeen System. So he continued with his burden.

Eyes glittered from the flashing lights off the nearby dance floor. But even as he appreciated the visual extravaganza, he wasn't as appreciate of the onslaught upon his ears. Easing from the party he stood in the night and sighed. Life continually changed. And despite the best efforts, good and evil were experienced. Difficult decisions came. And sometimes you made the wrong ones for the right reasons.

An amused smirk crossed his face as he realized he was inner monologuing a debate he'd been having with himself for months. Looking out to the beach his eye landed on a figure who seemed familiar, even at a distance that didn't bring the woman's details into clear focus. But he felt the quiet echo which confirmed his suspicions.

With a glance back at the party that didn't realize he had taken his leave already, he walked down the promenade toward the woman. As he neared he slowed his pace before stopping a two meters away.

"It's different then a mountain view, but nonetheless breathtaking."

A small smile played on his lips as he left his statement open for interpretation. Was he speaking of the night time beach, or the woman herself?

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Queen Bots™]

Location: Lobby
Posts: 1
Appearance: Casing and Mask
Tags: [member="Super TD-T47"]

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Wide blue photoreceptors watched the Super Tactical Droid with what appeared to be a very realistic simulation of baited breath. Would he forgive her? Would he demand for some sort of punishment for her uncharacteristic clumsiness? Would she be decommissioned and put back on the shelf? Bettie-Bot did not want to give the rest of the BD-5000’s a bad name and waited uneasily for a response. Her tense shoulders and innocently contrite mockery of human expression faded, slowly but surely, when the guest forgave her impudence.

Could he have done it any slower? She’d nearly burst a gasket while waiting.

Regardless, she smoothed her inorganic features, and addressed his question with as much programmed cheer as she was able. Etiquette demanded that an appropriate response be made for an appropriate question. “Certainly! Please come this way.”

Bettie-Bot turned on her heel with spunk and charm intact and followed the map that had been provided. She led the Super Tactical Droid toward a less crowded area on the main floor, filled with secure rooms, for the guests to utilize holotable’s if needed. “Here at the Seven Seas we respect the needs of our guests. We take privacy and security very seriously.”

The portal to the first room slid open with a small hiss and the BD-5000 turned to smile. Etiquette programming was still running strong, providing responses, and doing all it could to make an unfeeling metal chassis personable and polite. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“We do have a Droid Spa on the premises. I have heard that it is very adept at providing much needed, often forgotten, maintenance. We offer automated oil baths and can also handle recharging, repolishing, and retrofits. Would you like me to schedule you an appointment?”

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Promenade [Now just inside the doors from the Promenade-> Avoiding the rain.]
Post: 1
Tags: [member="Amaya Cardei"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Natasha Darkstar"] | [member="Darth Inanis"] |[member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

There was a presence in the back of her mind that did not belong. It was not particularly strong, not at the moment, nor did it scream danger—but she could feel it all the same. Familiar. Yet, it was not familiar to her. It was familiar to [member="Darth Metus"]. The snow-kissed woman remained where she was, unhurried, and unbothered by any of the people that approached her. She was more focused on the small furry creature languishing in her lap. It required more of her than those that had arrived, stealing the view, and the sun from her gaze. A man approached, dark of skin, and just faintly accented in a way she had not heard before. He called [member="Amaya Cardei"] his niece but she seemed a little confused. Perhaps, when the man said it had been too long, it really, really had been that long.

Amaya seemed much more confident that the pale apprentice about what her Father was going through. It felt strange, to see such a grown young woman, and know that she indeed belonged to the body he’d claimed. Isley Verd. It was one of the first names she had learned from her visions about the Sith Lord. It was also the utterance of that name, that had brought her interrogation, and pain. As it stood she could not complain. Any discomfort that had brought her to Darth Metus was menial compared to what she’d received in exchange. “Perhaps you are right.”

The Verd child winked in her direction, and left her with an open invitation to find her, if she found herself lonely. So far, this interaction did not seem like hatred. Gray orbs flickered. “I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Any suggestion, or lack thereof, went right over her head. Amaya seemed different than some of her other siblings. Perhaps they had different mothers? As far as she knew, none of the rest of them hailed from Naboo, let alone had any other house to claim. Whatever it was that shaped Amaya, Srina preferred it over sniveling adult sized offspring that cared for little more than spending the money their father did not spend himself.

As Amaya dismissed herself, someone new arrived, a man that she felt clearly long before she saw. Aryn. She did not smile, nor acknowledge him, but it was only because he already knew. He could feel her through his bond and Srina had learned long ago not to resist the will of the Force. She could feel his warmth. His smile. Tinged with an edge of discomfort. Oddly enough, he felt similar to Darth Metus.

Silver eyes instead swept up the form of the sable-skinned newcomer, from his feet, all the way to his unmasked face. Her gave was piercing behind the soft hues of her facial covering. Analytical. Such eyes, so fierce that they almost became cruel, did not belong in the face of a woman so lovely. “You are not following the rules.”, Srina pointed out slowly, with a bell-like drawl, accompanied by the faint tilt of her angelic head. “If you are in need of a mask there are extra’s being passed out at the main entrance.”

Her gaze changed. It switched entirely, moving from the man to some sort of beast. She did not know what it was and had never seen anything like it. Unlike the diminutive Yorshi that remained with her, it was the epitome of darkness. Threatening. Protective, this man called it. The small pup in her lap whimpered and clambered closer. If it could have burrowed into her stomach it would have. Srina obliged it, a small frown dotting primrose lips until the sithspawn obeyed its master and lay at his feet.

The apprentice was no longer comfortable seated on the limestone. She raised her hand without looking, fingers finding that of [member="Aryn Teth"], and she let the dark-haired man pull her delicately to her feet. He would know what she required. The movement was elegant beyond words, graceful, while she held the Yorshi pup close to her side with an arm that had been recently injured. The only description would be that of a flower unfolding, with skirts of white-taupe shimmersilk falling neatly in place. When she looked at the Supreme Commander she was surprised—though there was no outward reaction. The mask he wore was not what she had expected. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“You, my Jedi, would do well to remember that drink dulls the senses. You don’t need to impede your reflexes any further.”, Srina responded to his less than subtle barb with the chill that decorum demanded. She released Aryn’s hand once she found her center of balance and turned her attention back to the oddly well-informed stranger. Once again, she seemed to be thinking, versus speaking, when she wasn’t ready. Srina was not one to bandy wasted words.

“I do find it interesting.”, she spoke lightly after the brief pause, her voice high, but pleasant. The Echani paused only to reassure the little creature in her arms when he began to whine. The small spin of her body had left him uncertain with the sudden change in altitude. That, and he was definitely, hungry. “You claim to have heard so much about me…”

“But I have heard nothing of you. I believe that introductions are in order[SIZE=11pt]—”[/SIZE], Srina went on, but when her concentration turned to the horizon, she could feel a change. Her vision blurred as it had so many times before. She saw flashes. Glimpses of things that had not yet happened. A storm was brewing. "[SIZE=11pt]—Yet...We should do so inside. Rain has come." [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With that the apprentice turned and headed back inside the resort, expecting at least one, or both of the men to follow. [member="Natasha Darkstar"] may have also followed along, but Srina assumed, that if she did need or want something that the brown haired woman would find her again. No sooner had she reached the doors did the first droplets begin to fall. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Strange. The Weathernet had not called for anything but clear skies. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]

[/SIZE]​

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #1​

Attn: Everyone​

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• Entrance
  The Seven Seas Luxury Resort, Leritor

Far above the glittering lights of the vibrant resort below, the cold, dark void of space twisted and churned, finally ripping and expelling out a metal behemoth. At near five kilometers long and visible from the planet's surface, the massive warship Invictus was a veteran of the Battle of Tatooine, though on this occasion, the Shrouded Republic's flagship did not come to bring war, rather it was here to deliver its commander.

The Overlord of the Shrouded Republic did nothing by accident and his choice of using the imposing vessel as a means of travel for the occasion, was certainly not an exception. It was to remind the citizens of the Confederacy of what made the Ancient Eye such a valuable ally: their military might, for this exotic empire from Wild Space was a martial nation and its constituent, the enigmatic state that was the Shrouded Republic, was most certainly cast into the same mold.

The silvery Lambda-class shuttle descended from the clouds and gracefully glided to its assigned landing pad, the spacecraft's coating of silver paint giving it an appearance perhaps reminiscent of the Nabooian honorguard fighters. Two black triangles flanked it, one on either side, and those would not show up on any sensors, for they were T-77 stealth interceptors. More advertising. Wolfe was aiming to awe and impress the Confederates with the advanced technology of his nation.

The Overlord certainly wasted no time making his way to the ball room and he deflected the rain with a skillful application of telekinesis, demonstrating his knowledge and aptitude in the Force as he gracefully made his way to the entrance. He wore a pristine, crisp uniform, colored white and bearing the insignia of rank which marked him as the Lord of Admirals, along with black knee-high leather boots and gloves of the same color and material. Over his shoulders, fluttered his signature leather cloak, his shoulders and upper back framed by the fur of some animal, which danced lazily in the light breeze. He wore a simple white mask, unmarred by other colors, its texture like that of ivory. It was shaped like a snarling wolf's head and together with his resplendent military regalia, gave him an imposing appearance as he took in the sights. He had brought no other companions, or honor guards with him, though and carried no weapons beside his lightsaber. They would not be needed here.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Somewhere between Fine Dining and the Bar
Post: 5
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"]
Dress | Mask

So much seemed to be happening in the mind and heart of the young deWinter, traces of emotions coming off her with far too much ease as she watched her. Even anger seemed so strong for a moment before it had faded, then again returned. She seemed so young in those moments, letting it come out in strides with such ease, too much ease even.

Then, she had begun to answer her question, speaking on Endelaan before she recalled of those around her; her parents, Bayden, herself and even... a small flash struck across her emerald gaze as Scherezade mentioned her Michelangelo, striking into a part of her heart which still held a warm, and for him rather than anyone else. It was, in a sense, a form of magic in its purest form in what Angelo had done to her. She had not before nor since loved a man the way she had loved the Witch's son, and he her in return. If there was someone Asteria was capable of missing more than she had missed her mother or her sister, it was without a doubt her Michelangelo.

Scherezade continued her tale, speaking of the darkness and a comfort in the knowledge her twin was at her side before he vanished as well. She listened, grasping at the details while Scherezade continued, mentioning her grandmother, as she had suspected. She had touched her forehead and then she had been on Ryloth in the body she now held, just weeks ago. Her head tilted as she traced together with the pieces of the story, feeling as though it was a single angle, a fragment of the full tale. There needed to be more doubt.

A pebble suddenly came into her view just as Asteria had intended to take another sip of her drink, pausing to glance at it. The child placed it on the table before she spoke of someone called Katrine, whom she claimed was a Mandragora, though none of these terms, neither the name nor the affiliation rang a bell to her right now. Scherezade had joined them, she revealed, and this Katrine was training her. The pebble though existed still though she had come from it as if she had expected it to break once she had been freed.

Her emerald gaze stayed on the pebble as she could hear the whispers reaching out, the voice at her grasp. Without hesitation, Asteria placed the nearly full glass on the table and turned her attention towards it, taking the last comment her niece had given, being called Pebble rather Scherezade. However, right now, her focus remained on the small object in her hand. It seemed so long ago now that her Father had taught her how to read an object that it had no seemed natural and yet, in many instances, a skill she hard required. Now though, as the pebble lay on the table as a book requiring her to open it, Lady deWinter had found cause once more for it. Palm pressed to the pebble before she'd wrapped her slim fingers around it, taking it in, concentrating on it as she did.

Darkness spread like wildfire around her vision almost immediately as she did before green eyes opened in that darkness, suddenly drawing her in. Mother, she had thought to herself almost immediately as she seen the hue, feeling her signature as a loud scream in her head. Grace, power, a patience in action. The original Lady deWinter approached in a calmness Asteria recognized in her mother, keeping her attention to the child as she began to work the Force, muttering unfamiliar words as she did. Though the pebble, she could feel a protectiveness in her actions, the desire to keep the infant safe when the ancient power of their bloodline had not found it prudent to do. Asteria could feel the presence of the child, and the child beside her, both watching their grandmother, the sparks of their green reflecting in the emerald shade of their grandmother as she reached for Scherezade first, summoning for an object to be created out of thin air before she had focused on the girl. It was almost instantaneous in the way Scherezade vanished and the pebble had glittered with life, ancient words decepting a protection over the instrument to ensure Scherezade's slumber through the ages. Though the Force, Asteria could almost taste the intricates of the web around her mother, engulfing the pebble now and the sleeping Scherezade who felt frozen in the object as she did. Then, mother had glanced towards Brayden, her hand filled with the pebble moving towards the second infant...

Like a small voltage of electricity, the pebble had given out a single that had jolted Asteria out of her vision, eyes unknowingly closed suddenly opening as the pebble fell back to the table.

Even with her vision focused on the present, Asteria could feel the web around the pebble, still holding power over the object. "The pebble exists because she wills it so," the blond declared as she carefully picked it up and looked to Scherezade again, reaching out for the child's hand to place it into hers. "Guard this with your life, Scherezade, one day, she will allow for her web to release it and perhaps, it will help you find Brayden." There was uncertainty in her voice as she spoke, one that Asteria hardly ever displayed. "I can't promise you it's true. Even from the beyond, your grandmother holds an incredible power. She won't allow for the revelation until it is time." Or perhaps until Scherezade herself was ready, the thought involuntarily danced at her mind, almost as if it wasn't her own. There was no emotion in the knowledge that her Mother was not in the mortal realm because, despite it, Asteria could still feel her presence and power, as though it mattered not whether her body walked among them or not. Shery deWinter was still very much here.

Then, as the traces of the web and vision dispersed from her mind completely, its focus returning to the now, she recalled back on what Scherezade had spoken last, her emerald gaze focusing on the girl. "You are not a Pebble, Scherezade. You are a deWinter. Though they may not see it yet, you will never be Pebble." There was a distaste in her mouth for the nickname given to her niece as she spoke, thinking it ridiculous that they would call her so when Nessarose had given her a wonderful name to use. Much like their parents, they too nurtured the tradition of names that held beautiful beautiful sound and meaning.

In the back of her mind, lady deWinter could feel a familiar presence, emerald eyes moving from Scherezade to glance towards the entrance as she reached out through the Force to address Kainan Wolfe. 'Overlord, lovely of you to join us for this affair. Come find in in the next room, I would like you to meet my niece.'

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Location: Entrance
Post: 3
Tags: [member="Lyla Quinn"]
Wearing: Dress, Mask

The returned enthusiasm made Katrine grin, hearing the Twi'lek declare her name preceded her and it being nice to put a face to it. Surprising really. "Are you sure it's me? My Father is the more famous Van-Derveld," she pointed out with an ease, knowing full well it was true. Besides, when she sat out on her mission to find her sister, lowkey was an important description of her mission and yet, here she was doing the exact opposite of everything she had intended and her time here spent completely differently than she had planned. It wasn't necessarily a plan, to begin with, more an idea but it had gone wrong in every possible and even impossible way wrong.

Finally, she had been given a name. Lyla Quinn, who called herself a quick learning noob as a mental lightbulb lit in Katrine's head. "Oh! I've heard of you. On Tatooine, you were sent ahead," she recalled the name from the briefing given to her prior to the journey made though the name itself had inspired no association to a species that the blond hadn't grasped the possibility that Lyla Quinn could be in fact a Twi'lek. "Are you from Ryloth?" Katrine asked without thinking, having the most experience with the Twi'leks from the planet.

The topic shifted to the dress at last as Lyla wondered if it was okay, talking about her gownmaker with a sense of humor. She nodded excitedly. "It's amazing and definitely unique," the Lupine insisted with confidence.

As for the place, she could agree, it was great. "They did a wonderful job," she responded with a smile before Lyla commented seeing this level of extravagant in reality holonet shows. "There are plenty of places in the galaxy like this, you should check more of them out." The Schwartzweld for one was far bigger than this place, in size of five large cities, she recalled the description upon her first visit to Figaro Favoura, though there were many other places too.

Something caught Lyla's attention, making her turn as well to see what it was. Against the window, a quiet tapping repeated in intervals, the small flashes hitting against it. "Rain is fun," she commented without putting much thought into it.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Green eyes followed her aunt's movement as the glass went up, froze, went down. She openly stared as Asteria deWinter folded her fingers around the little pebble, and the way her facial muscles made the smallest of moments as... Well, Scherezade supposed her aunt was getting an imprint, or information, or something of the sorts from the object. She put away a note in her mind to learn how to do that in the future as well, since it seemed like a useful ability.

When Asteria jolted back, Scherezade's gaze was still focus entirely on her, as if the masquerade ball around them didn't exist. Nothing existed. This was a living breathing flesh and blood relative. Not just that - Asteria is important, was the thought in her head. Not just because of grandmother, but because of mother too. They'd been the closest to each other among the Dessel-deWinter children. Asteria, Scherezade knew, could be trusted. And would be, once Pebble was done being in awe and in shock about the freshness and surprise of this meeting. If Asteria would have offered, Scherezade would've left right there and then with her, never saying anything to anyone about her whereabouts. People said the pull of the Darkside was strong. Those people knew nothing of the pull of the deWinter blood that flowed through both of their veins.

Words. Asteria was speaking. Scherezade's anger flared again at that first sentence. The pebble existing because Shery deWinter willed it so. No, that was not right. The old crone had no right to do that. She couldn't play with her life like that, first taking her away from her parents, then from her twin, then from everything, and then dumping her in an adult body and expecting her to play catch with the rest of the galaxy. She would never kill her grandmother. And never make plans about hurting her while she was in the presence of the one who had been ranted the title of Lady deWinter. But she was going to make her grandmother suffer for her actions. That was the least she could do.

The anger continued to sift through her as Asteria went on, saying that the pebble would remain as such until she decided it was time to reveal things. The sentence about her not being Pebble didn't even register.

"You're her daughter, you trained with her more than anyone else I can think of," she said, the heat radiating through her words, completely oblivious to her invitation to another person to join them, "how do I get around what she did? What she does? If she wants to control my life like that without even being around, I don't want to be a part of it."

[member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #2​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

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• Ballroom
  The Seven Seas Luxury Resort, Leritor

The Overlord raised a curious eyebrow, though the gesture was concealed by the mask he wore. Intrigued, he strode forward to meet with the two deWinter ladies. He carried himself with an air of casual authority which was so natural, that he might seem to fit right in with the two noble-born ladies and he seemed to own the very ground he walked on, with every step he took.

It was easy to see why some people whispered rumors about him being a disgraced nobleman, as he certainly had the composure of one. If the true story were to ever come out, it would indeed surprise many, as despite appearances, Kainan Wolfe was about as lowborn as they got. There were very few people who knew that truth, however, and none of them resided in this room. The Overlord had taken great steps to conceal his history and he was a very thorough man.

"My lady deWinter," he spoke to her in greeting, his voice deep, raspy and powerful, the powerful voice of a charismatic ruler. "How nice to encounter you here. It is, of course, a pleasure to be acquainted with your niece," he said, the greeting formal and cordial, but without an offered bow. It was a well-known fact that Wolfe bowed to no one.

"But where are my manners," he said, his deep blue eyes shifting to Scherezade's and fixing her with a powerful, intense look that hinted at the iron will and sharp intellect which hid behind them. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Kainan Wolfe, Overlord of the Shrouded Republic and Lord of Admirals of the Ancient Eye," he said, omitting several of his other well-known, but more dramatic titles, such as White Wolf of Ession, or Darth Tacitus the Just. Although he had a flair for the dramatic, he knew well how to dose it for maximum effect.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Somewhere between Fine Dining and the Bar
Post: 6
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"]
Dress | Mask

There was that anger again in the child, this that showing it in her words as she spoke talking of things she hadn't known when she had been a baby and the baby had become the pebble who was only awake some weeks ago, giving her a better clue into what her Mother had done. It was a form of Grant Knowledge, in some regard though it seemed far more clustered with information than her own learning of the piloting skill from her Father through it.

Scherezade wanted her to tell her how to fight what her grandmother had done to her, wanted to know how she did it... she sighed, tilting her head. "Your grandmother did what she did to protect you, though it may not seem so," Asteria promised her. Perhaps she wouldn't understand, the anger seemed to be almost blindly familiar to the hate she once possessed towards her enemies and yet for none more than those who share a fraction of her own blood but not all of it. Reaching her palm to her mouth, she blew cold air into it, willing the element to take shape of the pebble she held in her hands moments ago, extending it.

"Channel your anger into this imitation and smash it," she instructed calmly. "It may be easy for our dark blood to fall into rage yet rage blinds. Cool your soul, you require a calm head for your future." In her open palm, the chilling pebble shaped ice exerted cold delicate smoke around as it waited to be taken. As for her questions... "She still possesses talents which she has not shared with all of us. They are uniquely hers. The protection over this pebble appears to be the same though I suspect because it is in your care, it waits for you to be strong enough to break through it." Magic was tricky, especially dark magic. Though she was a Sorceress, the magic her mother weaved was different in some sense from he one Asteria had learned on Endelaan. But she did believe that the answer lay in Scherezade and not with her for it was created specifically for her and Brayden, no one else.

As the Overlord approached, her head turned with her emerald eyes meeting his as he addressed her. "Overlord Wolfe," Asteria returned as he addressed her thoughts with words, before turning his attention to Scherezade, demonizing her need to make the introductions for him. "I present to you, the blood of my blood, her royal highness, Princess Scherezade deWinter." Factors such as the mention of the planet where she held the title were unnecessary but she was indeed of the royal bloodline the ancient ones simply referred to as the Family of Darkness. Though Asteria made little use of her royal status, as she was lady deWinter upon the gift of her Mother, the original lady deWinter; her sister was the Sorceress Queen of their planet and such, a proper titling of her niece was required, whether the child acknowledged it yet or not.

 

[Ascendant Muse]

Although the night was yet young, by all accounts the Seven Seas was a success. Such a marvellous resort would surely be a premier location for high-class clintele to spend their hard earned credits. Leritor would see a boon in this, and their entry into the Confederacy had been cemented.

And as for the Confederates themselves? They would continue to drink, dance, and make merry long into the night.

OOC: Feel free to continue your individual stories one and all!​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Cool your soul might have been sound advice, but it was, at present, entirely lost on the teenager, who was still seething in her anger. The notion to protect her grandmother was one that she should have foreseen, considering she knew of the special bond between her aunt and her grandmother. Yet still, there were exactly three people Scherezade would've been willing to extend a belief of perfection to, and her grandmother was not on that list. Asteria might not have been willing to directly help her, but the young Mandagora knew that any piece, any scrap of information she would receive, either from her or from others, would be used to protect those she cared about, even at the expense of a full out war with her grandmother.

Thankfully, even in her rage, she knew better than to give words or telepathy to these thoughts, even if for no other reason that she yearned to be as close as possible to her aunt.

When the imitation of the pebble came, this one made of ice, and with it came the instructions, Scherezade blinked. They were in an area full of people, and some of them had already seen her grand failures on the battlefield. She was not going to show it again, not when her aunt was trying to teach her something new.

Instead she waved her hand, her lips already forming the words. A single Arrow of Fire shot from her, burying itself in the icy pebble.

But her rage had subsided by then, giving way to that emptiness that always came after such an episode. She had no time to dawdle on it though, for just then she was introduced to a new stranger.

Overlord of the Shrouded Republic and Lord of Admirals of the Ancient Eye, he had said. None of those titles rang any bells with her, but she nodded her head towards him nonetheless. And then came the long and formal introduction by her aunt.

Blood of my blood, her royal highness, Princess Scherezade deWinter. Scherezade blinked.


[member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"]

 

[Fidelis]

• Wearing: Dress and Mask
• Post 1

A ball.

Who knew such comfort would be offered to her, so far from the land she called home? Thus, the temptation was too grand for the woman to resist, as she had a dress fashioned to suit the venue, and with it an ornate mask. Though certainly small, the mask, which now rested on the woman's face, hid enough features to mask her identity to all but those who knew her the most intimately, and further adding to such a 'mystery' would be the mere fact she was donning a dress, and not battle armor. Indeed, for all of Clarke's time as General, she had yet to attend even a single event adorned in fine threads such as these. It would be, interesting, to say the least, to see where the night would take the General. Clarke took a slow, deep breath, fixing her shoulder length hair as she felt eyes wander, both over her, and across her form.

It had been a while, since she had been stared at so.

Yet these thoughts, brief as they were, vanished as the crowd would eventually be permitted entry, and with relief awash over her Aya would follow the throngs of guests inside, taking care that each step did not click so loudly that her heels would draw undue attention from those around her. Oh and what a sight, such spectacle, such delight had been absent for some time in the clutches of violence, deceit, treachery, it felt as though she stepped foot into another world. Perhaps she had come home, and all this Confederacy business was a distant dream... alas even were it true she would wish for sleep to once more take her. Too much had been done, and Aya's home, distant though it may be, held ideals she could now spread to those who needed them most.

Yet again, her thoughts were interrupted, this time by a man, or so she surmised, asking if she came alone. The General smiled, and gave a truthful reply, and politely as she could declined the offer to dance with an excuse. 'Oh I wish to see the sights first.' A white lie, perhaps, but not one without a grain of truth to it. The General did indeed wish to see these performers, and with no lack of graceful, purposeful steps did she make her way to the bar adjacent to the going ons, politely ordering and, upon reception, sipping of a fine wine. She drank it slowly, watching those performing for the audience gathering steadily, eyes always glancing aside to pick out those of interest...

LOCATION: Seven Seas Resort, Performance Venue
AFFILIATION: Confederacy of Independent Systems
MISSION: Gather intel and disseminate
EQUIPMENT: Uniform, Disguise, Weapon
POST COUNT: 1

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This was stupid. The words he'd used when Captain Quinn had brought it up to the crew were "tactically unsound" and "highly dangerous", which was as close to "stupid" as he'd dare approach, but the tone in which he'd offered his appraisal would have left no room for doubt as to exactly what he'd meant. The way Captain Quinn had put it, the entirety of the Confederacy's high command would be concentrated in a single place, making an absolutely irresistible target for those looking to deal a fatal blow to the Captain's precious government. Any enemy with a lick of sense would target the site from orbit and not stop until the entire region was a wasteland of blackened glass.

The massive warship hanging in almost geosynchronous orbit wasn't helping matters.

Fidelis wouldn't go so far as to say he'd snuck into the venue. He would absolutely say that he'd taken advantage of someone outside being sloppy enough of a drunk to get the attention of a nearby guard, and that he might have spiked said someone's drink with an absolute monster of a liquor from many a First Order ship's illicit stills, but sneaking in was just a little much. Nevertheless, he'd made it into the venue with the only item resembling formal attire that he owned, with the only mask he'd ever had upon his head. It wasn't fine. It wasn't lacy. It wasn't an invitation to peer deeper into the eyes of the one wearing it. It was big, bulky, white, and awkward as hell. Fidelis had never been to a masquerade ball before - something that only officers in the First Order ever seemed to have occasion to attend - but as he meandered through the crowd, he got the feeling that he might have misunderstood the subtleties of the whole affair somewhat. Not that it mattered; while Captain Quinn and that irksome pilot had some much-needed downtime, Fidelis had a mind to probe through the various people that made up the Confederacy's high command. Why did they do it? What did they know? Who were they, and what made them tick? And why, Fidelis had to ask himself, would any of them speak to the guy with the First Order helmet?

Whatever. Adapt and overcome. It wasn't like he was here to try and make friends or anything.

After a few minutes, he'd finally spotted what he'd truly come for. Fidelis was in what could very well become a high priority target, surrounded by people he did not know, looking for two that he did. In the space of three minutes he'd had more truly social interaction than he felt that he'd had in his entire time as a Stormtrooper. And - as if in answer to an unspoken prayer - through the dark lenses of his "trophy" helmet, Fidelis spotted a bar. An open bar, from the look of it. There may yet be justice in the galaxy after all.

Fidelis sidled through to the counter, taking space next to a Human woman with what looked to be black hair and deep brown eyes. Waving the bartender down, Fidelis simply pointed to a bottle of brown liquid in a crystal container, neither knowing nor caring exactly what was in it. The bartender worked with marvelous speed; Fidelis had turned his back to take in the sights of one of the performers, and by the time he'd looked back the glass was already prepared and ready. Fidelis took the glass readily and turned back to face the performers once more, tilting his head slightly towards the Human woman next to him.

"Something, isn't it?"

Conversation had to start somewhere...

[member="Aya Clarke"]

 

[The Girl In Green]

Location- Ballroom
Gown and Mask- But Where Did She Hide the Guns?
Goal- find Captain Lyla Quinn, who invited her to this party then LEFT HER BEHIND
Posts-2


Irma could feel the back of her neck prickle from the minute she entered the ballroom. The room was already filled with them--debutantes and warlords and statesmen all eyeing each other under the pretense of polite conversation, but doubtless all of them looking for a place where they could slip in a knife. She'd been to more than her fair share of these ballrooms, always under the hire of one of these types, and that was always what they wanted. There wasn't half a measure of honor between every soul in this room, as far as she was concerned.
Well, no matter. She was well disguised, by anonymity was well as the bombshell dress and the cloud-like poof of hair, and she knew her way around. Heck, with the polished strip of black over her eyes, most people wouldn't even be able to tell she wasn't human. There was no shame in enjoying the music and the food...and doing a little people-watching while she waited for Quinn to show herself. The intrigues at such high-class parties was always better than the holodramas.

She shook off that prickle on her neck, and made her way to the bar for a cocktail. As she went, she passed a trio of extremely well-dressed people, a man and two women. Of course, she couldn't help but catch a few words as she went.
Overlord...Wolf? That must be the gentleman in the wolf mask. Was that his name, or a nickname, or a title? And the older woman had introduced the younger, who clearly didn't look happy to be here at all, as Princess something.

"Well, well," Irma said as she slid her hips onto a barstool, half to herself and half to the bartender. "This isn't your average fancy party, is it?"

What kind of company was Quinn keeping here, to get such an invitation? And what did these people want with a smuggler captain?

Irma decided to order a stronger drink than usual.




Overheard: [member="Kainan Wolfe"], [member="Asteria deWinter"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[The Girl In Green]

accidental double-post. Feel free to delete.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #3​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

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• Ballroom
  The Seven Seas Luxury Resort, Leritor

Although he had kept quiet about it so far, the Overlord could not help but notice the last part of the two women's discussion. Very little went past Wolfe's notice, though he rarely spoke out about it. He decided to do so now. "I would not presume to interfere in your private affairs," he said, addressing Scherezade. "However, your aunt is right about one thing. You must never let your anger and hatred control you, rather you must learn to control and use these emotions," he explained.

Deciding to demonstrate, he extended his right arm into the air. Almost immediately, an oppressive Darkside aura flared around him, an unholy marriage of anger and cold, suffocating hatred. It swirled around, like a toxic cloud, before coalescing into a long, black shaft as black as night, ending in a wicked-looking spear point. It was a weapon of pure hatred, death given form by Wolfe's will and held together in a vice-like, iron grip.

It was an ancient technique known as Darkshear and a rare sight to behold, though the Overlord was known for his use of it. The precise, sharp and solid look of the weapon in his hand, was a testament to his advanced knowledge of the technique and his experience with it and the demonstration was bound to turn at least a few heads, in the crowd.

Wolfe held the unnatural object for a few more moments, before releasing his grip on it, the horrible weapon popping out of existence as swiftly as it was brought to life. "Whether on the battlefield, or in the royal court, your emotions are a weapon to be used. You must never let your opponents see anything other than what you want them to see and above all, you must never let others control you by playing with your emotions. Always remember: theatricality and deception are powerful tools in the hands of those who know how to wield them," he explained.

 

[Aya Clarke]

• Wearing: Dress and Mask
• Post 2

"Indeed it is, quite unlike celebrations from home. For one, we are indoors, a rare luxury with such a scale." Aya gave [member="Fidelis"] a half laugh, not one making much comment but accenting her words all the same. She glanced to the side to the man, sipping the wine in hand and observing what she could. Well, that wasn't exactly all too much, what with the helmet, but it worked all the same. It was a nice suit though. Just, not her style. In either case, she could tell little, save for the telltale signs of his soldiery upbringing, the way he held himself. But, she would not pry, no. Today was a party, after all.

"All the same, 'tis a nice sight to see so many masked faces enjoying a dance. That, at least, is some small pleasure even I can understand." She let the corner of her lips curl slightly, before she continued. "I don't suppose there is aught I can call you, Mr. Trooper? 'Twould ruin the fun of masks to so willingly share our names after all." Of course, there was the possibility he knew full well who she was and had singled her out. Or perhaps not. Either suited the woman, as long as she had company for the evening festivities.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Somewhere between Fine Dining and the Bar
Post: 7
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"]
Dress | Mask

The sight of the air hitting the ice made Asteria blink. She had seen this form of magic before, including in what her sister knew, based on what Scherezade had told her, she knew the knowledge couldn't have come from her. Mandragora and this Katrine, Asteria would go on to assume though, in light of the Overlord's arrival, she wouldn't be able to address this newly found discovery of her niece.

And he had in fact heard more than she'd expected him to, agreeing with her words of anger and hatred. The Overlord advised the girl not to allow them to control her rather to control those emotions, demonstrating such through the use of the Force. Strong presence of darkness fluttered around him, becoming more evident than before, before it had become to travel towards his hand. Emerald eyes watched it take shape of the spear in his hand, the sum of the negative emotions forming the object.

His grip loosened and it vanished, taking away the aura around it with him and once again, Asteria couldn't quite tell fully just how much hatred this man wielded. Kainan continued to educate the teenager on using emotions both on the battlefield and in court. At the time, Asteria reached for her glass and took a sip, letting her niece hear the advice given. It was good advice, she needn't have added anything or interrupted the man though she grew curious as to his knowledge of court affairs. Despite the fact that Asteria too held royal status on Endelaan, she had little use for it since the dynamics of the planet was quite different there than one would imagine. However, the advice could certainly be applied in the business world as well. "That's a good the comparison, Lord Wolfe," she pointed out, "Opponents can abuse your emotions in any field, not just the battlefield or court," Asteria added, looking back at Scherezade.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Name: Scherezade deWinter
Time spent as a semi adult: approximately a month
First scolding by adults (that time about diaper usage 500 years ago doesn't count): now

The girl bit her lower lip as Wolfe and Asteria spoke. They mentioned emotions being a weapon to be used, whether in a battlefield or in the royal court. She desperately wanted to hmpf at that, because who'd invite her to a royal court anyway? She didn't know any royals, and she wasn't fit to go to Endelaan. She was just a pebble insofar as anyone in the galaxy knew, or cared. Probably less than that, at the moment.

Theatricality and deception. What did she know of those anyway? By the heat in her cheeks, she was certain that both her aunt and Wolfe could easily notice how red her face was getting.

The tips of her feet slid towards each other as she bit her lower lip to keep herself from bursting. Things were too much. She didn't know how to use the deck she'd been dealt when she was removed from her pebble, and it always seemed one tiny shuffle forward and then about two star systems backwards.

"I don't know about any of these things," she finally sighed, her eyes fixed on the hem of her dress. She almost mentioned something about the years she spent being a pebble, but the man in front of her didn't know about it, and it was probably not the wisest thing to fill him up. Not without assurances from her aunt that he could be trusted, anyway. "I'm not fit to go home."

Home. There was only once place she would ever be able to call that.

Endelaan.

[member="Asteria deWinter"][member="Kainan Wolfe"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #4​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Srina Talon"]​

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• Ballroom
  The Seven Seas Luxury Resort, Leritor

The Overlord listened to the girl's words, nodding solemnly. "You might not know about such things, yet, but you will, probably sooner than you think," he said to her, knowing that life had a way of not caring whether or not people were actually ready for what it threw at them.

"In a better galaxy, things would be different. You would have a happy and carefree life," he spoke, his tone carrying just a hint of sadness, as he remembered things from his own childhood: the cage, the arena, blood on his hands, torture and hunger when he failed to please. "But this is not a better galaxy. As such, we must be willing to fight for what we have and work hard for what we want. Innocence and childhood are luxuries that few can afford," he explained in a tone as solemn as his eyes.

"Success in life requires perseverance, discipline, a sharp mind and an iron will," he said, speaking from experience. Aware of the intimidating effect his presence, status and posture were having on the teenager, he decided to share a precious sliver of information about his past, something which very few in the galaxy had ever earned the privilege of knowing. "Would it surprise you to hear that I come from nothing? That, despite being the ruler of a nation, I have about as much noble blood running through my veins, as a common kath-hound? These things that me and your aunt are saying to you are lessons which we, in turn, had to learn, sometimes in exchange for scars which we will bear for life."

"True strength can only come from within, child. And what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. So, persevere. Work hard, be patient, learn all that you can and above all, don't ever let anyone take away what is rightfully yours."