Junction Feast of Iron and Flame || SO/ME Junction of Omwat & Empty Hex

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Imperial Palace - Jutrand
Thread Objective: Dinner and a Show
Attire: Servant Uniform
Equipment and Effects: Storm Kiss (Concealed) │ Dermal Hydration Underlay
Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Gerwald Lechner

To Ellissanthia’s surprise, the night was going relatively smoothly. Even though this particular assignment was of a similar kind that she was used to (in that it involved serving the Sith), she had expected a disaster for the simple fact that her service was to be of different nature than her previous missions. Rather than being tasked with killing the enemies of a given Sith, or performing various violent tasks on their behalf, she was to be serving them in quite the literal sense.

Specifically, serving them wine, food, and various other refreshments!

To prepare for the task, Ellissanthia had spent most of the last three days in training, learning the basics of hospitality. She had practiced balancing plates and drinks, greeting guests, operating the various dispenser machines, and more. Thus, when the day arrived, the Undine was ready. Gracefully balancing a tray on her palm, she slid effortlessly between the assembled guests, offering wine and whiskey. She caught sight of the Wolf ( Gerwald Lechner ) and gave him a polite bow before extending her tray up towards him. He accepted the latter drink, which the Undine made a quiet note of.

Tapping her wrist-mounted datapad, she sent a ping for a servant to come back in a couple minutes to collect his empty cup.

From there, Ellissanthia continued to glide amongst the guests. She caught sight of her reflection in one of the windows, her eyes taking in the dark, high-collared outfit that disciplined her voluptuous silhouette. It was the subtle padding on her shoulders, the tailored bodice, and the fitted black gloves that lent her appearance an air of restrained anonymity.

Though, she quietly wondered if anyone here might still recognize her.

It was then that her attention shifted towards the courtyard as the shadows parted before her eyes. Her breath caught within her chest as two towering, dark-clad figures emerged.

The Eternal Father and the Shadow Hand!

A faint, involuntary tremble ran through Ellissanthia’s body as two Dyarchs were announced by the master of ceremonies. All the while, her lips parted to form a silent ‘O’. Fortunately, those were the only outward signs of the insuppressible faith which threatened to overwhelm her. Discipline held the Undine together, a dam against the torrent of her devotion that screamed for her to fall to her knees, break into tears, fall into a fit of prayer, or worse, spill her drinks!

Through conscious effort, she settled her features into a mask of serenity. Then, moving forward, she approached the two Dyarchs and lowered herself into a deep, reverent curtsy before them.

“Lords of the Kainate,” she began, her voice coming almost as a pronouncement. “Star-Eater of the Faithless and God of the Graves...” Ellissanthia paused. The Undine neither flinched nor breathed, even as the sheer weight of their combined presence pressed down upon her soul.

“Might this one offer you a drink?”

 

[Elane II of Kuat]

​

Sith-Imperial Tag Channel: Might be Open

From her position on the balcony, Lady Elane watched the spectacle with her single eye. Observation served as a formidable tool within the Sith Order, and those who overlooked the subtle variations in body language and speech patterns could swiftly lose their status and be discreetly ousted from prime territory.

The Dark Lords were fickle beings whose temperaments could shift in an instant, and even in the secure confines of the Dark Council, the Lords were maneuvering for advantage now that Darth Malum and Darth Empyrean had disappeared into the netherworld.

"Its quite rare to see so many Sith Lords in one place, and equally impressive that none of them have started boasting about how they were the ones to single-handily pushback the Galactic Empire from Atrisia, or to take credit for the destruction of the Alliance's naval power." She muttered to herself in a notably dry tone, with a hint of venom in every word, gripping the end of her cane for support even while seated.

The Mandalorian Empire had established itself as a valuable ally to the Sith Order; however, the question remains: how long will this alliance endure with figures like Darth Carnifex still alive, the annihilator of Mandalore and the perpetual adversary of their civilization.

To disregard such a deep-seated wound would be completely uncharacteristic and perhaps even strange, yet such considerations should not concern her. Elane had secured her own personal domain with minimal opposition from the Order, although she frequently found herself relegated to the role of an observer amidst the constantly changing circumstances.

In her they saw a functionary, a mere keeper of accounts and not the main reason as to why the Sith Order was not currently drowning in debts. She would let them believe their strength was absolute, that the Force and fury alone commanded respect and authority. A faint, dry cough escaped her lips as her gloved hand tightened on the balustrade.

This celebration was a marketplace like any other, and the currency was influence. When a Dark Lord boasted of a new campaign, she calculated its cost. When another sought the Empress's ear, she assessed their debt. They were building their victories on her credit.

She was on equal footing; they simply refused to acknowledge the ground she stood on. Her territory might not survive a direct assault, but it could strangle their ambitions with a single, well-placed foreclosure. A silent war required a different kind of warlord. Turning from the balcony, a cool smile touched her lips.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

---

CURRENT MISSION - Children, Protection, and Services
Immediate Goals -
1: Re-establish himself with allies.
2: Make good on promises
3: Enjoy the festivities (optional)

---

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Srina Talon || Darth Strosius || Lina Ovmar || Revna Marr || Elane II of Kuat

OPFOR - Kainite et al.

TARGETING ACTION(S) - BLUFOR (ideally) & OPEN COMMS

---

This was not entirely his idea.

A million myriad factors at play, where he would have done differently, either in altering the venue itself or his presence within it. But the Kiffar had long known that he didn't control the whole of the Galaxy - and doing things on his own would not always get him what he wanted. Like a shaggered ghost, despite his hair combed to somewhat civilized tendrils, his beard trimmed to a box that a scarred lip scowled forth from - a forced reaction that, in combination with burgundy eyes that were muted in mournfulness gave him the look of a well-worn wardog, who sulked and would much rather be anywhere but here.

He hated politics, detested his peers in a way unlike the acceptable sadomasochism that permeated the ways of the Sith, and did not deserve to stand with those who defended the Empire that were being lauded to day. He had been... occupied.

Bogan above he did not want to be here.

His shaggy shadow lingered in the coattails of his betters, for Darth Strosius would know that unlike Lina Ovmar , he came alone - but not for the sake of himself. After the assault on Alviria, Trayze had arbitrarily decided himself to be a more immediate protector of the children of Ansisa - in spite of any protestations. Whenever he wasn't working, he would look after the children - playing, talking to them, teaching what lessons he could impart.

Being there as they wept tears open and silent, joined with his own, whenever they asked when their father - his lordly cousin - would return.

He wanted to be there, for their sakes. To show Quinn Varanin and the whole of the Imperial Family that the least of them would fight for something more, if given dignity - that there were passions deeper than malice, loves deeper than lust, the fire of life brighter than the soul-devouring Force the Jedi cleave to. That he would do better, do more...

But how?

He would decide, should the Dread Lady grace these halls, to have a moment of her time... if she would let him. The only times she'd spoken to him was when he boldly asked how the bloody hell did she manage to maintain a healthy relationship at the pinnacle of Sith, helping resuscitate her daughter, and more recently plop the newest additions of the Marr dynasty into Imperial Wardship.

Perhaps Strosius would have felt Trayze briefly grasp the hem of his cloak before they entered, before the cameras shone - an old superstition, to touch those acquainted with the divine to send forth power on their behalf. Perhaps the Prophet of Bogan would recognize a prayer, for the health of the Emperor and Empress, and for the strength for what he would need to do.

For now, the Kiffar lingered, regarding all who sat near the head of the table - though his eyes softened as he gazed beyond and away from the throng of spectacle.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Jutrand
Tags: Renn Vizsla | Eenia Vahn | Open
Wearing: Warden Beskar'gam

The feast was just as much spectacle as celebration. Even clad in blue Warden beskar'gam with silver accents, Adelle still felt like she needed more protection here. It also felt like it fit the vibes: this was a celebration of martial victory after all. Towering columns of black marble rose up around the courtyard like bars to a cage, red torchlight catching the edges of runes carved into their abyssal surface. Fountains gurgled and sprayed water stained blood red. The scents of finely cooked food perfumed the air while braziers gave off both ambient and thematic lighting. Somehow the flames here felt different than the fires of Mandalore.

Adelle stood with the Mandalorian delegation, helmet clipped to her belt similarly to the Warden of Roon, Renn Vizsla. While she hadn't been on the third Death Star herself, she'd been patching up the Mandalorians that had stormed the superweapon. Her mismatched eyes took in the courtyard, the scenery, the terrace that held thrones and demanded attention. Firelight flickered over the scars on the left side of her face, giving them a harsher appearance than normal. Between the servants in black and the banners of red and silver, the blue of her armor felt jarringly out of place. She leaned over to her fellow Healer, Eenia Vahn .

"Black is flattering on anyone," she murmured, "but I could never be a Sith. Red's just not my color."

Perhaps a poor attempt at humor, but she'd be lying if she wasn't at least a little uncomfortable. The Dark Side had a smothering pressure that weighed down on the soul here, its oil-slick taint in the Force icier than Hoth itself. In spite of that, she didn't bother to hide her presence here. She was Mandalorian: if anyone had a problem with it, they could take it up with the people that invited them.