Seasonal Carnival Games

[Diarch Rellik]

The Games of the Shadowlight Festival

All five games are set along the Academy Promenade so you can easily go from one to another. Each festival game awards one Festival Token to its winner.
Tokens can later be redeemed for Semi-Unique event gear being submitted for approval right now! Crafted by Diarchal artisans, the Lilaste order and N&Z Corporation!

Feel free to mingle here and if you want to add any games you think your character would enjoy - go for it! Have fun. Feel free to write it however you want or use dice rolls. Whatever makes you happy.

️ - The Haunted Hall

Beneath the plaza lies a maze of holographic corridors, flickering lights, and trickster illusions. Brave the labyrinth and find the mirrored exit to earn your Hero of the Labyrinth token!

- The Crucible Cauldron

At the promenade's center, tables brim with colorful reagents. Contestants mix glowing potions, failure gives you a non dangerous colorful explosion! Success earns you the Cauldron Core token.

- The Myrmidon Gauntlet

Beside the academy's reflecting pool, holographic Myrmidons spring to life. Contestants duel their simulated counterparts under the roar of the crowd. For those combat junkies I am happy to DM these posts with you just let me know what level of challenge you want... Muah ha ha - Earns you the Diarchs champions token!

- The Phantom Range

Hosted by the man himself Laphisto - Challenge your skills with the irons as you try to hit floating targets drifting through fog. Children use light rifles, while adults test their aim with replica Lilaste training pistols. - Showing your skills to the leader of the Lilaste will earn you a Specter's Eye token!

- The Maker's Row

Where cadets once drilled, artisans and citizens now create. Using either your skill with a brush or metal creat something of any quality artistically and win an Artisans flame token!

 

[Liin Terallo]

Whether this is deemed to be a fully masqueraded event; I do not know. But being fully engulfed by my costume, I am hopeful that I would not be recognized. The many layers and folds of white fabric hide my bodytype well. And the mask changes the shape of my face enough to not bring my own face to mind. I even wore flats tonight; allowing my real height to be exposed instead of wearing heels to increase it. Perhaps only if I speak would my identity be discovered.

Of course there might be another way....

I have not used any of my synthetic abilities for some time. I had hoped that the result of that would mean that the wrongness that Force Wizards feel when they are around me would wane. However the lasting effects of the Isotope-5 within the synthetic serum have not seemed to have weakened at all.

Still, I can only hope that there would be too much going on, and that it would be far too busy for others to take notice of me. So instead of being within a popular location such as the Celebration or the Games or the Grand Feast; I chose instead to plant myself in The Maker's Row.

An empty canvas awaits me there. No one really knows that I am a skilled painter, for I have hidden that talent well. So tonight it is safe to take up a brush and palette and begin to make my mark on an empty canvas.

 

[Carisma Rostu]

Location: CARNIVAL GAMES!!
Objective: Game #1 - The Haunted Hall
Gear: Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor
Tag: Open


The past few weeks, after learning of the carnival's existence, had warped young Carisma's mind with distracting thoughts. Always the attentive student, prior to those passing days from that glorious discovery, now became haunted by nightmarish daydreaming of the festival. Even her Master, Darth Virelia , began to take notice in the slacking of her young Apprentice. Twenty-five percent of the time Carisma involved herself in her training, the other seventy-five percent she was a wandering mind. But she was still young. A sixteen year old girl, who despite the facts she embraces the Dark Side and chose the path of Sith, was still just a teenager; filled with the energy of one, filled with curiosities about the galaxy and her mysteries.

While she rehearsed her itinerary for the countless time, not allowing thoughts of all those promises she made to her Master for granting her request to attend the event to strangle her mood, began feeling her stomach swoon with fluttering excitement. A smile, briefly, carved itself from her lips, and she quickly quelled the uprising. Carisma possessed a reputation among her peers; she didn't smile, never.

Underneath her, the slowing of the engines now mingled with a slow and comfortable vibration from the descending transport vehicle sprung her into action; she was finally here. Impatiently, another topic attached to her reputation, she cursed at the slow motion action of the ramp, with it's rude and selfish outlook on time itself. Alas, she was free! And with no foreseeable obstacles in her way, she walked in hastened strides toward the first game on her list: The Haunted Hall. She doubted it was really haunted by any one of the categories of spooks, but she loved ghosts, so there was a minute shimmering of hope floating around her that this place could have apparitional tenants.

 

[Lord Mettallum]

Location: Phantom Range
Costume:

Spoiler

Tag: Laphisto and anyone at the Phatom Range (open)


Lord Mettallum didn't understand the exact concept of this day and why people were expected to dress up as mythical creatures of the underworld or 'heros' from history but if he was to improve his standing within the Diarchy it was important that he at least made an attempt to join these strange festivities. Lord Mettallum didn't know many heros of the history and the ones he did know were known mainly to droids. It wasn't until he walked past a toy store where he saw 'Lilaste uniform for kids' costume did he have an idea of what to dress up as.

Since Lord Mettallum was not keen on joining the feast he decided he would attempt to try the challenges of skill at the festival. The first game he would attempt would be the Phantom Range both to see if his shooting protocols were upto date and to also check how his costume held up compared to the person he was dressed as. For now Lord Mettallum would wait in line.

 

[Xian Xiao]

The night over Ravlin was alive. Lanterns floated high between the spires, their amber light mixing with drifting holograms of ghosts, serpents, and dancing flame. Music echoed down every promenade, laughter carried through the air, and the scent of sweet spice and roasted fruit clung to every breeze. For once, the capital seemed less like a fortress and more like a heartbeat.

Xian walked through it all with a faint, almost secret smile. Her crimson hair caught the golden light as she passed beneath the lanterns, the soft curls glinting against the black of her costume. The outfit—an elegant play on the classic vampire—fit like a shadow molded to her form: dark, smooth fabric traced with silver embroidery, a high collar framing her pale neckline. Her dark eyes, rimmed faintly in kohl, gleamed beneath the mask she wore.

She hadn't expected to feel this… light. The invitation had come from a friend insisting she "live a little," and somehow that had turned into a blind date. For most of the day, she'd considered canceling. But as she looked across the festival—the laughter, the drifting confetti, the warm pulse of life—she found herself glad she hadn't.

Her date was supposed to meet her at the plaza's fountain. From there, they'd planned to explore the festival together, maybe even brave The Haunted Hall—a labyrinth of holographic illusions below the plaza floor. The thought drew another small smile from her lips. The idea of a vampire wandering through flickering corridors and trickster lights was almost poetic.

She lingered near the staircase leading down to the maze's entrance, her cape brushing softly against the marble tiles. All around her, couples and groups moved past in bursts of laughter, their costumes reflecting every corner of myth and mischief. For the first time in a long while, Xian felt no weight at all—no duties, no expectations. Just the night, the hum of the crowd, and the soft anticipation of someone approaching through the festival glow.

Somewhere behind her, footsteps slowed.

Gavin Vel

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Location: CARNIVAL GAMES!!
Objective: Have a bit of fun
Tags: Iandre Athlea

The shuttle descended through the haze of orange lanterns, one going right by the window as Rellik looked out of it. Crowds filled the streets near the Academy Promenade, music carrying up even through the sealed hull. He glanced down at his attire, brushing a hand over the Temple Guard robes he'd chosen or, more truthfully, the ones Iandre and he picked together. The fabric was lighter than expected, flexible at the joints, the weight balanced perfectly for movement. Beautiful, in its way. Rellik thinking he could certainly fight in it if need be.

A sign of the time she came from, he thought. Function, and dignified clothing. More so than the dynamic things of the galaxy now.

His gaze shifted across the cabin.

Iandre sat opposite him, draped in the sleek black lines of her Sith ensemble. Dark fabric, fitted perfectly, with the faint sheen of polished weave catching the shuttle's light. It was the opposite of what she usually wore, and somehow, it suited her perfectly. She had been the one to help him with his robes, and in return, he'd helped her with this. Perhaps to much to his liking.

He couldn't help the small grin that formed as he took her in.

"You know," he said, leaning back slightly, "I might have to convince the high council for more events like these. You look amazing."

The dry humor in his tone was softened by the sincerity behind it. His smile lingered a moment longer before the shuttle touched down with a gentle hiss.

When the hatch opened, warm air poured in carrying the sounds of laughter and distant music. Rellik waved off the attending staff with a brief gesture, then stepped down and turned, offering his hand to Iandre as she followed. Together they started toward the festival lights. Rellik slowed just before the edge of the promenade, the glow of lanterns reflecting off both their faces.

"The Feast and social area will be full of politics," he said quietly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. "Let's start with the games. A few minutes to ourselves before the crowd finds us."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre's grey eyes met his as they stepped forward, matching him step for step, the lanterns casting a warm glow across their faces. She allowed herself a subtle, measured smile at his compliment, letting the rare lightness of the moment settle between them.

"It's… not so different from what I wore for duty," she said quietly, her voice calm, "just…less expectation. Less weight." Her hand rested lightly against his, fingers brushing his in quiet acknowledgment as they moved through the festive streets.

Her gaze lingered on him, mirroring the faint humor in his expression. The memory of her desire to be a Temple Guardian made her happy he had agreed to dress as one. "Perhaps the High Council should allow more of this—seeing people as they are, rather than the image their robes demand," she added, a wry note threading her words.

Matching him stride for stride, she adjusted her posture, the sleek fabric of her attire moving smoothly with her. The rigid discipline of her usual life felt softened here, replaced by a quiet freedom she rarely experienced.

"Games first, then politics," she murmured, her thumb brushing his in agreement. "Lead the way…Though I fully intend to give you a run for your credits." Her grey eyes sparkled subtly, the promise of lighthearted challenge bright against the glow of the festival lanterns.

A subtle shift in the Force brushed against her awareness—a familiar presence approaching. Her senses picked it up instinctively: Aiden was near, though she did not look for him, letting the moment with Rellik hold. It would be wonderful for her friend to meet her love. He didn't know they were engaged, and this would be the perfect opportunity to share that news.

Diarch Rellik Aiden Porte

 

[Aiden Porte]

Iandre Athlea Diarch Rellik

​

The crowd parted just enough for him to sense her before he saw her. Familiar warmth in the current, steady as moonlight on water, Iandre.

The festival lights played tricks on the senses, gilding laughter and motion with the shimmer of color and sound. Children darted past him with streamers, vendors called above the hum of music, and for a moment the air itself felt alive with joy. Amid all that, her signature in the Force glowed constant and serene. Softer, lighter than he remembered as if something in her had found its rhythm again.

He turned toward the pulse of her presence, a quiet smile finding its way to his lips.

Then he saw her, her posture still carried discipline, yet there was an ease to it now, a grace not worn but lived. And beside her…

Aiden's eyes took in the way their hands brushed, the wordless conversation in that simple gesture. He slowed his approach, reading more from the silence between them than any words might have revealed. A subtle realization bloomed not surprise, but a quiet, genuine gladness.

When he finally stepped close enough for his voice to reach them, it carried that same warm steadiness he had always offered her.

"Iandre." he said, a fond smile beneath the lanternlight. "I almost didn't recognize you."

His gaze shifted to Rellik, respectful, calm.

"And this must be the man who's managed to convince you to to take a night off."

The gentle humor in his tone made the tension dissolve like dew. The Force rippled faintly between them recognition, affection, the kind of quiet joy that didn't need to be spoken.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Aiden Porte, Jedi Knight of the High Republic. Its an honor to meet you."

He inclined his head slightly. "You chose well. Both of you."

 

[Darth Nexion]

Nexion had finally arrived back on Bastion after a lengthy trip. However, his return was due to one reason and one reason only: his favourite day of the year. All Souls Day was a day Nexion adored with all his heart... with all his semblance of a heart. He was annoyed at being held up and arriving late, but that no longer mattered to him. He had arrived in his costume as he was now walking through the streets, taking in the decorations, events and such that now littered the Diarchy home.

He made his way through the promenade, taking everything in and plotting where to go later in the evening once he'd checked in on some of his contemporise. He pulled something out of his pocket, unwrapping it before eating it, revealed to be a simple sweet he... may or may not have swiped from a kid earlier along the street.

That didn't matter now. What did was that he carried on, looking into the sea of people to try and spot someone he knew, so he could make sure they were truly taking in the spirit of the season.

 

[Kito]

//: Ayra Lowe //:
//: The Haunted Hall //:
//: Costume //:

Kito found herself out of place and waiting at the entrance of the haunted hall. She didn't understand the appeal or fun of being frightened by make-believe horrors. But Ayra had invited her to come along and seemingly was excited about the attractions, so Kito went along with it.

Already, Kito was feeling awkward. Her hand reached up to adjust the soft fox-like ears perched on her head. She still wasn't entirely used to them or the strange tickle of fur brushing against her fingers. The sensation reminded her vaguely of the small animals that she cared for on her family's farm as a child. The purpose for them was lost on the Shaper, but they had made Ayra smile. It was the least she could do, particularly since she had invited Kito to this little event.

Despite agreeing, Kito still felt she looked ridiculous.

When she had first arrived to meet Ayra, the Echani had pouted the moment she saw her. Kito hadn't realized the evening required costumes. She dressed in something simple, a bit more traditional for her background. Apparently, it wasn't 'festive enough.' Ayra had all but shoved the fox ears into Kito's hands, insisting that the Shaper wear them.

Now that she was in the middle of the chaotic event, Kito realized how wrong she had been. Ghosts, monsters, and holographic ghouls drifted past her. Costumed strangers laughed and shouted, their energy becoming overwhelming.

Unfortunately for Kito's anxiety, Ayra had excused herself only minutes ago. But already Kito felt stranded as she held onto the small bag — looking completely lost amidst the crowd.

Hands tightened on the fabric straps of the purse as her eyes scanned the room, crimson eyes flicked over every strange face and costume. The Shaper wondered if Ayra had wandered off too far… or had been eaten by one of the goblins running loose through the crowd.

Suddenly, a pirate bumped into her shoulder, followed by a ninja who muttered an apology. Kito blinked, having her mind pulled back into the moment, and stepped back instantly. "Sorry," stuttered reflexively, bowing her head out of habit.

Kito's lip caught between her teeth as she looked around again, trying to find something familiar that calmed the wave of anxiousness she was feeling. Usually in this moment, she would have reached out for a hand, one that belonged to a certain Sangnir. Valaine had other plans tonight, so Kito needed to find something else to calm herself. But there were too many people. Too much noise. Too many things to watch at once.

For all intents and purposes, Kito looked less like a mystical kitsune spirit and more like a lost puppy in a festival she didn't understand.

 

[Oleander]

//: Riven //:
//: Near Laphisto's Gun Game //:
//: Attire //:

Festivals and the like weren't the typical haunts the Hapan Doctor tended to frequent. Oleander was the type to hide away and watch horror films during this time of year. She enjoyed her alone time, avoiding the crowds that made her constantly stressed. But she chose to change things up this year and to keep up with the theme of doing things she typically wouldn't do…

She had invited a patient… a client… to something outside of an appointment at her clinic.

The moment she had made the call and had gotten a response, the woman instantly regretted it — more out of the 'what were you thinking' part of her brain. In reality, there was a part of her that was excited to see the small Elf outside of their weekly appointments and the occasional field call. But there was also the anxiety that maybe Riven felt obligated to meet with the doctor. At one point, she did stitch the girl up after a nasty explosion, but that couldn't be enough to garner that kind of reaction.

Oleander let her own mind fill in the gaps while trying to logically think of a reason why Riven would have even entertained the idea of going to something like this.

The doctor adjusted the white beaked mask on her face. It was nice to be able to hide most of her features; it kept anyone else looking at her beyond initial curiosity. A few pedestrians had offered compliments for the 'creativity' of her outfit, while others just gawked and continued on.
She didn't know what was better or what was worse.

Her fingers trailed along the soft fabric of the hood that she drew up over her scarlet hair, trying to fade into the background as the doctor tended to do. Riven had been given the time and the meeting location, so if she didn't show, then Oleander would understand where they stood.

Frowning, she didn't enjoy the prospect of that option, but at least the mask would easily hide her disappointment. Either way, she did her best to quell both the excitement and the dread of the little meet-up. She didn't even want to think about what Riven assumed the situation could be.

She just hoped that the Elf decided to dress up for the holiday, so that Oleander didn't feel alone or particularly lame in that aspect.

 

[Riven]

Costume
Tags - Oleander

Honestly Riven wouldn't have bothered with such frivolities and events, but when asked to attend by her favorite doctor...? Well, she couldn't very well disappoint her...

About as much as the short Elf knew about the occasion was that it was customary to come dressed as something... different. Be it another species, a monster of some kind; of myth or reality, or in Riven's case just a different occupation. She glanced down at her maid attire with a gentle sigh. She wasn't very used to wearing skirts but she could appreciate how free her legs felt, and the general color scheme of the outfit suited her as well; monochrome.

Naturally she still had a lit cigarette between her lips and an expression that very much tried to ward others away from trying to interact with her, and it worked for the most part.

Her long ashen hair flowed behind her as she walked, her head turning from left to right as she sought to catch a glimpse of Oleander's red hair, but to her dismay she couldn't see it. She pondered if she had gotten the location wrong, or perhaps the time? Despite her attire she didn't feel so out of place thankfully, as that would have made waiting around for the doctor especially awkward. Instead she felt like she was blending in rather well amidst the sea of folk in various outfits of their own.

She moved to stand idly near what looked like some sort of beaked and robed person, for they also seemed like they were waiting for someone. The end of her cigarette lit her face in a brief amber light before she exhaled the smoke; as always it helped with her anxiety. Little aware she was that the plague doctor besides her was exactly the doctor she had been looking for...

 

[Liin Terallo]

The empty canvas was not empty for long. With a skilled hand the brush strokes began turning what was merely white into something else entirely - a landscape both dark and foreboding.

I was not bothered by anyone while I painted. Instead there were times where I had seemed to have gained an audience. But that could be moreso in part that they were perhaps hoping to see if I would end up getting bits of paint on my white costume.

Yet I am more skilled than one would anticipate. And not so much in being able to paint a picture perfectly; but moreso in being able to not get myself dirty from the paint. Afterall, one cannot hide a hobby if one retains evidence of it on their person.

I find it a little strange to have people watching me. But at the same time there is something freeing about being fully hidden from view. No one knows me, no one recognizes me, and no one cares. It is oddly comforting. Perhaps that is what I need moreso than being on some Capital world full of people.

That is until I can get this Synthetic Force situation dealt with.

 

[Ayra Lowe]

// Padawan Lowe //
// Objective // Carney it up //
// Focus // Kito //
// Costume //

---

---

The pout in the mirror made the final applications of the Echani's makeup a more difficult endeavour than she had intended. A brush dragged across her face patterns of white and blue as the irritation refused to leave her chest. A loud exhale would finally push the thoughts forward, allowing herself to be annoyed.

What kind of woman goes to a festival without a costume.

Ayra herself hadn't spared any effort in her costume, taking weeks to prepare a suitably ragged dress and practicing the makeup that she now finished. She had looked forward to this since the announcement, and yet Kito only knew of the event because the Echani asked if she wanted to come along.

The K'paur was an awkward girl at the best of the times, but how could she not know to bring a costume. The entire planet would have been dressed and done up if the people could manage such an effort. So Ayra had to run and find an accessory for the lost K'paur that would even slightly match the garb she wore.

A pair of fox ears at least managed to make her look like a spirit, though its laziness still bugged the Echani.

As the final strokes crossed her face, she pulled the purse over her shoulder and huffed out of the bathroom. In the distance she saw her tall companion, looking more like a sad dog than some magical kitsune. And so she would poke the girl in the back, hoping some surprise could pull her from the stupor.

"You know you're supposed to look confident and majestic right?" A glare shot upwards to Kito, discontent in her eyes. "Who's ever heard of a sad kitsune? Not me."

The least Kito could do for all Ayra's effort was pretend she was enjoying the night, but for now perhaps some entertainment would do instead.

An arm hooked around Kito, dragging her as best as the Echani could despite the difference in stature. Many games and events lit up the buildings around them, all clearly enticing the padawan are her eyes caught on each and every one of them.

But as much as she wanted to do them all, eliciting such passion from Kito would prove difficult.

And so she would allow the K'paur to make the decision.

"Soooooo...." She trailed off expectantly. "What do you feel like doing? The Gauntlet? The Range? Or perhaps you're in the mood for something else?"

 

[Ironwraith]

Republic Special Operations Division
"Even ghosts deserve a night off."

The crowd roared with laughter and song beneath a sea of lanterns, the air thick with spice, roasted meat, and the ozone crackle of distant fireworks. Ravelin hadn't felt this alive since—well, ever, as far as Ironwraith could tell. The last time he'd stood on the Academy Promenade, the only lights had come from burning repulsor tanks and tracer fire. Now it was all paper lanterns and joy.

He tugged at the edge of his Wampa onesie for what had to be the twentieth time. The soft fleece was warm—too warm—and he could feel every judging stare that probably wasn't even there.
"Never again," he muttered, taking a slow breath through the fanged hood hanging off the back of his neck. "Never. Again."

A group of children darted past him, one of them squealing, "Hey, mister Wampa!" before pelting him with a handful of candy wrappers. He caught one mid-air out of instinct, muscle memory still tuned for combat even in a crowd of civilians, then realized what he'd done and sighed.

Without his armor, he felt… exposed. Not physically—he'd survived worse without it—but emotionally. No HUD, no filters, no visor to hide behind. Just a man in a ridiculous costume trying to blend into a galaxy that had long since moved past his war.

He found a drink vendor and exchanged a few credits, the steaming cup of caf warming his hands. Around him, holo-ribbons twisted in the night, ghosts of light and color spinning above the heads of the living. It was meant to honor the fallen, they said—to remember without mourning.

He looked up at those drifting lights for a long moment.

"Guess this one's for you lot," he murmured, raising the cup toward the sky before taking a slow sip. "Don't haunt me for the outfit."


Then he started toward the center of the plaza, where the music was loudest and the laughter was contagious, trying—just for tonight—to let the Wampa smile for him.

Tags: open

 

[Laphisto]

GMING RANGE EVENT TAG ME FOR GM POSTS​

At the far end of the Academy Promenade, past the glow of lanterns and laughter, lies the Phantom Range a mist-shrouded firing lane bordered by sleek durasteel barriers and floating target drones. Thick plumes of artificial fog drift across the open court, cut through by flickering lights and the faint hum of repulsors.

Behind a polished counter stands Laphisto, the High Commander himself, his silhouette calm and commanding amid the drifting haze. His voice carries easily over the distant music: "Step up, take your aim and remember, the Range sees everything."

Racks of Lilaste order LO-22S pistols and LO-16D rifles rest on the counter. Each weapon is tuned for precision rather than lethality, firing low powered LO-EMP.-1 rounds The Range adjusts dynamically targets move faster, smaller, or fade in and out of visibility depending on the participant's roll or chosen difficulty.

Children and cadets aim at bright, hovering orbs drifting lazily through the mist, while veterans and adventurers test their reflexes against unpredictable ghost-targets that dart between flashes of light and shadow.

Rules of the Range

Roll for Accuracy: In your first post, roll to determine your accuracy score. That score sets the target threshold for your next shot.

Force Users: You may cheat using the Force enhancing your perception or guiding the bolt but doing so risks detection.

If your Force-assisted roll does not exceed the Detection Level (DL 16), Laphisto senses it instantly.

If you succeed, your manipulation goes unnoticed.

Winning the Round: Hitting the final phantom target earns the Specter's Eye Token, symbolizing keen perception and composure under pressure.

Atmosphere

Holographic mist thickens with every successful shot, coalescing into eerie shapes shifting silhouettes of soldiers, spirits, and winged figures drawn from the Diarchy's history. The Range reacts to every participant: light, music, and fog swirl in harmony with each strike.

When someone lands a perfect score, a low chime echoes, the mist parts, and Laphisto inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment a rare gesture of respect from the High Commander of the Lilaste Order.