Seasonal Carnival Games

[Lord Mettallum]

Location: Phantom Range
Costume:

Spoiler

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

Lord Mettallum took the pistol and scoffed at the comment that he would feel its recoil. Unlike the organics he was surrounded by, Lord Mettallum was not some small weak droid and he could handle the recoil of some of the biggest guns with no difficulty so the claim that a small pistol would have a kick to it was like an insult to his audio receivers. That said a pistol had its own issues being Lord Mettallum's hands and fingers were a bit big making it harder to use. Hopefully Lord Mettallum's combat algorithms are capable of compensating for this disastrous unforeseen weakness at the range .

It was too late to back out now, after all how could he when he was going against some man wearing one of the most ridiculous costume Lord Mettallum had ever seen. Lord Mettallum knew some organics had no self respect but an inflatable tauntaun costume was just too much and it would be a crime to lose to such a man.

 

[Rokul]

Tags: Zara Saga

"You're using me as a way to get back at the Diarchs. To show you don't need them. That you're happy without them. And you still think I'd stay here and take orders, if you left? It appears you don't know me as well as I thought you did."

Rokul said, rather simply as he kept his focus on Zara. A small frown on his face, as the defense mechanism Zara seemed to be throwing at him was familiar. She couldn't believe what he had said. It almost seemed self-destructive in the way that she was referring to him as a good little soldier. Nothing more than that. But Rokul's skin was far too tough to let something like that get under it, as he turned his attention over towards the art supplies, letting silence fill the air.

"But as much as you tell me not to say it, I already have. It's already in the universe. And I will say it as many times as I need to Zara. After all, I do want to show you off to my parents sooner or later. 'Cause at the end of the day, I'm not a good little soldier. I'm just a lovestruck farm boy."

Another little fiendish grin crossed his face at that, as Rokul brushed various colours across his artwork, squinting every so often as if he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do next, looking over towards Zara. Letting his own gaze soften for a moment, as if he was contemplating things over in his head before shaking his head.

"Of course, I couldn't see you settling down with a farm boy. You'd far prefer someone who can be adventurous. Someone who could bring a spark to your life. Shame really."

It was exactly like Zara had said in that bar so long ago. She wasn't the kind of woman to just settle down and have a family like the way Rokul had thought. But it had been something he had accepted. Though now there was a part of him that felt as if Zara didn't believe he had accepted that.​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
BASTION, BRAXANT RUN, TINGLE ARM
SHADOWLIGHT FESTIVAL

Perhaps wearing a bulky, inflatable costume to a shooting range wasn't the best idea Ronhar had ever had.

Seriously, what the hell had he been thinking? The costume proved to be far more of a hinderance to Ronhar than he had anticipated, bouncing around all over the place and getting in the way of his aim. Ronhar began floundering as he tried his best to shoot around what he was wearing, but it was seriously impacting his performance, causing Ronhar to miss what would have otherwise been very easy hits to make.

Ronhar cursed as he steadied his aim the best he could, the neck of the Tauntaun flapping around haphazardly all the while. The next time he saw Graras, Ronhar was going to kill the man, since after all he had been the one to insist Ronhar wear such a ridiculous costume to this event. He sighed to himself as he depleted his weapon's power pack, and set it down on the counter once he was finished.

If it was any consolation (which it really wasn't), it seemed that his "opponents" were at least struggling just as much as he was. The droid that was next to him clearly wasn't designed to handle such a small and compact weapon, and in all honesty looked kind of silly trying to fire such a small pistol. Naturally, Ronhar was sure he looked sillier, but at least it was something, he supposed.

His other opponent, some sort of blue skinned alien, hadn't even fired off a shot yet, and Ronhar wondered if he even knew how to handle a blaster. Ronhar sighed yet again as he waited for his score to be tallied up. Maybe he should have just shot his costume as it was bouncing around, popping it and destroying it once and for all. At least that way he would have a somewhat valid excuse to get out of it and throw it away without a second thought. After all, he doubted that its destruction would have been any great loss, though one could never tell with the sort of things found on Mahporeem.

Whatever. It was all fine, really. At the end of the day, Ronhar was here to enjoy himself, regardless of his personal performance in some stupid shooting game. At least that was what Ronhar told himself, but in reality he kind of wanted to go again, if not for his honor just to shred the stupid costume he had been made to wear for the occassion!

TAGS:
Laphisto
Aknoby
Lord Mettallum

 

[Ayra Lowe]

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

---

---

The dour look on the face of her companion only served to lessen the Echani's mood, more out of empathy than any thought the night was worse off for it. She had invited Kito because the girl hardly seemed to give time for much outside of training and combat, and Ayra decided for her that a break was needed in order to unwind.

"There's no need to apologize." She said in an attempt to lighten the mood an ease the forced smile that rested upon the K'paur's face. "And you look nice in yours too, despite throwing it together."

A hand reached up and jostled the fox ears resting on Kito's face. The disparity between Kito's usual self and wearing such cute ears appealed to the Echani in a way she didn't expect.

They sauntered along for a moment, before a game caught the eye of her companion. A test of strength. Ayra supposed she shouldn't be surprised considering what she knew of Kito, but at least the girl was indulging in the festivities.

Pale blue eyes watched as Kito effortlessly rang the bell atop the game, the strength she held not the least bit surprising that she won. The Echani offered a raucous applause as the K'paur went to claim the prize, a stuffed bear with beady eyes that grew almost as tall as Ayra herself.

"Nice work!"

A smile crept along her face as the raven haired woman held the bear in her arms, only widening into a toothy grin as Kito presented the prize to Ayra.

"He's adorable! Thank you, Kito." A squee came from the lips of the smaller girl as she took the bear into her own arms, pulling the stuffed animal into a tight hug as it's softness brushed against her skin. "I can't believe you won something for me! Bringing you was definitely the right move, let's see how many more we can win."

Dreams of drowning in her bed with stuffed animals began to creep in the Echani's mind, to fall asleep surrounded by soft plushies and toys. If Kito put the effort into winning them, then that made it all the better.

If this had been a date, then Kito would have certainly won points with the girl.

Her eyes looked up and down the K'paur, admiring the finesse with which she had won and mind wandering to quite how strong the girl was before the thought quietly killed itself as she drowned her face in the brown fur of her new prize.

"Let's play some more, I'll try to win you something too!"

Her eyes fell to a game of bubbling quicksand, a hook provided that allows you to catch a krayt dragon with different prizes attached to their bottom.

The bear hung loosely as she spun on her heels and looked towards Kito expectantly, a selfish grin on her face as she silently asked the woman to win her another prize.

"How about this one?"

 

[Ironwraith]

Republic Special Operations Division
The Haunted Hall – Shadowlight Festival

The twisting corridors seemed endless. Every turn led to another holographic prank — doors that weren't real, paths that looped back, whispering illusions that called his name in bad surround sound. It was all harmless fun, but after the fifteenth fake wall and a dancing ghost that tried to sell him festival tokens, Ironwraith had had enough.

"Gotta hand it to whoever programmed this," he muttered, stepping through a flickering doorway that buzzed and reformed behind him. "Really nailed the 'mildly irritating' experience."

The next corridor was mercifully quiet. A faint blue glow at the end drew his eye — a shimmer of real light beyond the holograms. He followed it, ducking under a stream of static and brushing phantom spiderwebs off his shoulders.

A last turn revealed the mirrored arch again, this time stable and humming softly. The sign above read: EXIT – REFRESHMENTS AND REENTRY

"Finally."

He walked through.

The air shifted — warm again, full of chatter and music. The smell of roasted food and spice flooded his senses, almost dizzying after the artificial chill of the maze. Behind him, the Haunted Hall sealed itself with a hiss of steam and a cheerful holo-voice shouting, "Thank you for surviving!"

Ironwraith adjusted the Wampa hood and exhaled through a laugh. "Barely."

The festival had gotten even louder since he'd gone underground. Lanterns drifted higher now, painting the night in copper and silver. Somewhere in the distance, a live band struck up a rendition of an old Republic marching tune — reworked into a festival jig.

He scanned the promenade for something that resembled a bar. A stand advertising "Corellian Spiced Cider – Served Hot!" caught his eye. Close enough.

He made his way over, boots crunching on confetti and glitter. The vendor — a cheerful Twi'lek woman dressed as a vampire — grinned at the sight of him.
"Long night, Wampa?"

He handed over a few credits. "Long life."

She laughed, filling a steaming mug and sliding it across the counter. "Drink up, hero of the labyrinth."

He took it, nodding once in thanks before turning toward the plaza again. The drink's warmth seeped into his hands, and for the first time all night, he let himself relax.


The air above Bastion shimmered with light and laughter, and Ironwraith stood quietly among it — just another soul in the crowd.

Tags: 0pen

 

[Aiden Porte]

Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea

​

The festival opened before them in a wash of light and color, a living tide of motion and sound. Lanterns bobbed like small planets overhead, their reflections rippling across the polished stone. For a moment, Aiden let himself simply breathe it in the scent of spice and sweetness, the hum of laughter, the faint vibration of the band striking its first notes. It was a rare thing, to stand amid so much life unburdened by duty.

He watched Rellik and Iandre move together with a rhythm that spoke of quiet understanding her posture still disciplined, yet softened by his presence. The brief spark of amusement between them at his teasing question drew a subtle smile from Aiden.

​

Her words drew a quiet smile from him small, knowing, the kind that reached the eyes before the lips. He'd forgotten, perhaps, how naturally she moved between humor and command, how she could lace challenge into grace without breaking stride. The lanternlight caught the edges of her coat as she stepped ahead, the glow painting faint halos along her silhouette.

"Mercy." Aiden murmured, falling into step beside her, "Is rarely part of my training. But humility?" He tilted his head slightly, feigning a teasing thought. "That one, the Masters were very fond of teaching."

His tone carried light amusement, but beneath it ran something steadier a genuine contentment at seeing her alive in this way. The years of constant tension, of duty pressing against every breath, had left little room for such moments. Now, surrounded by laughter and warmth, she looked finally unburdened.

He gestured lightly toward the glowing archway. "After you, then. Let's see if the three of us can still best a few phantoms." Aiden said with a laugh as he took his place alongside them.

 

[Aknoby]

He waited patiently for his turn. When he picked up the gun, he took a deep breath. He didn't want to disappoint Laphisto o. He aimed, waited for the ghosts to appear, and started shooting, trying to be both quick and accurate at the same time!
(OOC and now let' see the dice!)

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:
//: Attire //:

Halloween was a night typically filled with parties, drinks, and beautiful costumes. This time around, Quinn had decided against all that and opted for something a bit more festive for the holiday. Carefully, she had chosen what she figured to be a fairytale princess — the bright colors hiding the depression she had found herself drowning in. The fabric was neatly sewn so that it hung just off her frame, leaving the outfit modest enough to appear costume-like.

Dates and suitors were something she wanted to forgo as well. The Princess had grown tired of the mess they caused and instead chose someone who seemed to have her best interests at heart — without the horrid motive of trying to get into her pants. Quietly, she had messaged CT-312, explaining the event and what she needed to do on her end. Knowing how the clone functioned, she made sure it sounded mission-esque.

Direct orders for a costume. Direct orders to attend. Direct orders to have fun. Everything was plain as day for the trooper to understand. Still, Quinn added a bit of theatrics at the end, mentioning that the trooper should be prepared for anything to come up.

As much as Quinn wanted to avoid the possibility of a suitor, she did have quite a fondness for the armored woman.

Speaking of, she added one final line to the message:
<: No camouflage. :>

When the event arrived, Quinn was happily accompanied by the trooper. Despite wanting to be surprised by the woman's costume, Quinn chose to have them come together. She figured it would be easier to sell the idea that 312 was escorting her charge through the event — and ready to protect her at any cost.

Quinn, on the other hand, was enjoying her time with the trooper, hoping to get to know her better after their mostly mission-driven encounters.

Her eyes wandered over the stalls and activities. While the games seemed simple enough for her to win on her own, she wanted to be treated kindly. As she scanned the event, she caught sight of a tall girl offering one of her own kind a stuffed animal — and suddenly, Quinn got the best idea.

"312," she started, her voice almost lyrical — a clear sign that she was about to ask the soldier for something ridiculous.

"You should play some games and win me some of the prizes."