Festival of the Lost | CIS Dominion of Krant (Y,44)

[Ascendant Muse]

K R A N T​

The Dark Side lives.

When pondered by the Galaxy, the sinister twin of the Light is most commonly thought to be a Devil. Nefarious. Vicious. Wrathful. But to those who know it intimately, the Darkness is far more than that. It is a force of nature, so ruthlessly perfect that it corrupts. It seeps below the flesh and saturates the bone. It sings within the eyes and stains the voice. It is boundless. It is the Deep. And once it burrows into the flesh of the willing, monumental power can be found. And...when it touches the vibrance of nature, the landscape is changed evermore. Such was the case of a distant world named Krant.

Long ago, the presence of the Dark Side was strong upon this world. Ancient followers of the deep had erected a temple there in order to sink further into the depths. Yet, as time moved ever forward, the number of practitioners upon the planet began to dwindle. From the incursion of the Yuuzhan Vong to the Great Darkness, Krant soon found herself bereft of a Dark population. Yet the taint upon the land persisted. Like the body, the Dark Side had corrupted the very vibrance of nature. It did not twist the bark of the trees to an ashen hue. Nor did it rob the planet of every shred of greenery. Rather. It tugged beyond the veil of Death.

And at the apex of the planet’s rotation about its local star, this tug manifests. From the depths of a monumental body of water - Lake Aleng - do the dead rise. Not in form corporeal, mind, but in Spirit. For but an evening is their rest interrupted...but never is there malice in their hearts. You see, these departed were always intimately tied to those who tarried upon the world at any given time. At first, only the natives were blessed with the opportunity to say farewell one last time. Yet, as nations rose and fell in the Outer Rim, the phenomena became something of a small pilgrimage. Those burdened by grief would find...relief...in seeing the faces the loved once more.

In time, the taint would come to be celebrated. Traditions were born and the lakeside became a thriving, fishing community. But for one day a year, the people would hang up their hooks and welcome any traveler to the festivities. For one day, the boats and nets would know rest. The amber treasure of Krantian Beers would begin to flow throughout the city streets, as joyous merriment fills the air. Bonfires line the shore of the Lake, casting eager light upon the waters as many wait for the appearance of their loved ones. And now, for the first time in decades, the Festival of the Lost would be witnessed by more than the locals and the curious.

For the Confederacy of Independent Systems was finally returning. In particular, the world of Krant held special significance to the reigning Vicelord - so much so that he dug tirelessly into his own coffers to incentivize their return to the fold. With a hefty donation to the populous paid, the Confederacy would now descend upon the world to add yet a new meaning to the Festival. Not only would it be a day to remember the return of the departed to the living...but a day to remember the return of the Confederacy to Krant.

Spoiler: Objectives

They rise from the depths of the Lake. Tugged from beyond the veil of death are faces near and dear to your heart. Some were stolen prematurely from your arms - ripped from your love by war, famine, and disease. Others were taken by the erosion time and the frailty of man. Whichever the case may be, you have one precious opportunity to see them. For one more day. For one more hour. What will you do with this time? What will you say to those you have lost? Make every second count.

Alengside began as nothing more than a fishing hovel. But over time, it evolved into a quaint city with plenty of sights to behold. Tonight, every tavern and street is alive with merriment as the “famed” Krantian Beers are freed from their kegs. Yet, there is more than liquor to enjoy! Wander throughout the cobbled streets to discover the curiosities of the city. Baubles and Trinkets await in alleyway shops. The aroma of exquisite cuisine perpetually fills the night air. Tonight is yours, make every second count!

Spoiler: Tag

[member=A'Runda]
[member="Akabane"]
[member="Alexandrite"]
[member="Alora Fae"]
[member="Alvarex Zambrano"]
[member="Alwine Lechner"]
[member="Amarant deWinter"]
[member="Amaya Cardei"]
[member="Amethyst Atreides"]
[member=”Amethyst Sovereign”]
[member="Andi Americus"]
[member="Anya Malvern"]
[member="Arabella Darkhold"]
[member="Archim Calixis"]
[member="Ari Zanareth"]
[member="Arlox"]
[member="Aston Jacobs"]
[member="Aya Clarke"]
[member="Azmodan"]
[member="Betty Americus"]
[member="Billy"] Americus
[member="Braan Kell"]
[member="Bandit Six"]
[member="Caid Centurion"]
[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]
[member="Carith Thelcar"]
[member="Chikako Liona"]
[member="Cim Salro"]
[member="Corvus Dravere"]
[member="Daisy Americus"]
[member="Danger Arceneau"]
[member="Daniel Americus"]
[member="Dalton Kenway"]
@Darth Rixas
[member="Darth Tacitus"]
[member="Darth Zurvan"]
[member="Daxton Bane"]
[member="Derek Dib"]
[member="Dhakarta"]
[member="Drauchir"]
[member="Ella Nova"]
[member="Erin Tenel"]
[member="Fawn Alzi"]
[member="Gerwald Lechner"]
[member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]
[member="Isarn Apis"]
[member="Ithiel Verd"]
[member="Jade Isara"]
[member="Jamie Pyne"]
[member="Jennifer Blanchard"]
[member="Jorge"]
[member="Jyoti Nooran"]
[member="Kalee Bladesworn"]
[member="Kaptan Americus"]
[member="Karlie Lynn Destat"]
[member="Kasca Fen"]
[member="Katria Vekarr"]
[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]
[member="Kayla Wylen"]
[member="Kilia"]
[member="Kingsley"]
[member="Kip Ridel"]
[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
[member="Kurenai Yumi"]
[member="Kyber"]
[member="Kyle Naktis"]
[member="Lady Psyona"]
[member="Luna Terrik"]
[member="Luna Vega"]
[member="Lyla Quinn"]
[member="Maple Harte"]
[member="Marek Starchaser"]
[member="Minerva Vessia"]
[member="Muad Dib"]
[member="Natasha Darkstar"]
[member="Nine Lives"]
[member="Petra Cavataio"]
@Popara the Great
[member="Qaarssk Roark"]
[member="Razelle Breuner"]
[member="Roy Americus"]
[member="Rylan Kordel"]
[member="Samantha Jade"]
[member="Sander Europa"]
[member="Scherezade deWinter"]
[member="Sola Marr"]
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="Tex Americus"]
[member="Teyla Ee'everwest"]
[member="Thalira Kiing"]
[member="Tmoxin Temi"]
[member="Traveler"]
[member="Varick Lechner"]
[member="Veronika Fleischer"]
[member="Vyra Silara"]
[member="Xenro"]
[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]
[member="Zephyr Carrick"]
[member="Zhai'ellev"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: nearest bar
People nearby: n/a
Post: 1


Antoine loathed arriving on time to social events. Arriving on time meant that you were the first, and on such occasions, that would just not do. He swiped his holodevice, ensuring the secretary provided to him by the CIS would find herself without a job the following morning, and made a mental note to speak with her before that. She was, after all, a pretty little thing.

With a sigh, he adjusted the black fur and feather coat that protected him from the weather, and prowled his way to the nearest bar. There was always a bar. A glass of whiskey soon appeared in his hands and he turned around, hazel eyes scanning the area. A lake, a city, a... Complete and utter boredom.

Still, it beat the need to sit in his office and go over the blueprints for his Ascension blueprints yet gain. His plans for the planet had been completed, all that remained was for the paperwork to go through. He had tried to be a good boy and go over the plans again to ensure there was nothing left that could be improved. Sooner rather than later though, the Corellian tired of it.

But if there was one thing he knew he could count on from the Confederacy, it was to throw parties. This one was meant to include the ghosts of the dead.

Antoine smirked. Others could speak to their loved ones if they so wished. He, had none, and he would have it no other way. Matters of the heart were for the weak and the meek. He, had a galaxy to put in his bed.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Krant brought a very natural feeling to Lirka, something she had shunned for so long: it was a raw and natural sorrow. The twist and turns of her long life and the new crisis of self she had been experiencing since Roon began to take a stronger hold now. For she could witness such glorious powers of the Force, feel the force course through her veins. And she could hate it all ever more. For Lirka was alone in this wide Galaxy, people were not but passing faces.

This was not to say all people were naught but distant memories, for the former princess was far from some vat-born Clone creation. And that is what made this all the more painful to her: family. Something she had abandoned a century ago in a spur of bloodlust and a love of violence over being Thustra’s “pretty princess”. Though in truth, shunned becoming her homeworld’s ruler entirely. She had failed.

Nothing felt right, already with a cold sorrow coursing through her veins she felt naked all the name. Truthfully, she likely would’ve been had she been given the chance. For instead of battle armor and if’s undersuit, she wore a simple and basic clothes. They felt like some pity gift after she risked her life on Kamino, her armor? Dented, torn, broken. Her undersuit? Torn in more than enough places where the Imperials fell true.

And they had fallen true a lot

She was littered with wounds, walking with a small limp she desperately attempted to hide out of the ingrained instincts of a pit-fighter. Barely healed wounds where one of her eyes from her helmet had stabbed into flesh after it had been so heavily damaged. Bacta-patches were hidden away under her clothes to cover burns and gashes, she walked with a broken rib and a general throbbing pain. Lirka had fought hard against medical aid beyond what kept her alive, to do otherwise was a show of weakness. So strongly did she cling to these old instincts, worthless instincts outside of those hot and gory fighting pits

Lirka didn’t lounge much, the crowds had gotten to her quickly. Holding one of these new beers in hand, the booze was good enough. She took another long swig to silence the spirits she supposedly felt stabbing at the back of her mind, she moved along. Watching, studying all with those icy blue eyes. They oozed emotion, usually a malice to whoever she was speaking to, now this was not the case all that they showed to those who looked: envy of many of these people around her.

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Beside Lake Aleng​

Wearing: XXXX​

​

​

The diminutive Exarch of the Confederacy was present when required. As always. She dropped ever meeting, every mission, and returned to Geonosis or Ryloth for her orders when summoned by the Vicelord. He wished her to make an appearance at the Festival of the Lost on a planet that he had long since coveted. Krant was beautiful in its own way. Simple, with a vast history, that didn’t seem to tarnish the people but rather enriched their lives. She moved through the quiet fishing community commanding a gentle respect with an easy grace.

It wasn’t hard to play the role that was demanded of her. Not usually. She thought logically over all things and tended to speak pragmatically. Most, unless unhinged, appreciated it.

She greeted whom she needed to greet. She smiled at whom she needed to smile at. She did everything she could to ensure that her Master hadn’t wasted his efforts in spending his own credits on this acquisition. The clothing she wore was very plain. No armor, to her chagrin, but an unadorned blue shimmersilk shift. It swept the ground easily and hung from her slender form with strings of pearls that interlaced across her bare back. It was in homage to both Lake Aleng and the small fishing village that depended on it.

Hair of palest moonlight rolled over her shoulders in unbraided waves. That was it. No jewelry, or silver, aside from the rings that her Master insisted upon and her Holo-Comm. She had even left her lightsaber behind in the Ferocity. If she needed it among all these Confederates and Force-Users there were much larger issues at hand. The CIS Navy had already secured the area around the planet. What else was there? Save to meet the people? Learn?

This was a peaceful place. At least, during the Festival of the Lost, she surmised. Eventually, she took leave of the festivities in Alengside to visit Lake Aleng. The villagers had whispered all sorts of things about spirits and closure that she found herself curious. It was one of her weaknesses, to be truthful, but she could hardly help herself. The notions or Spirits rising through the veil to communicate was worth study. She wanted to see it.

Yet, she did not. The Echani had lost many. What if the legends were true? Not just a trick of the light?

As such, she had taken a seat by the edge of Lake Aleng with her knees drawn up to her chest. Blue fabric pooled about her form like water while a paperbound book rest face down among the folds. Silver eyes were closed with feathery lashes dusting pale cheeks. She was certain that she needed to know.

Srina simply didn’t know if she wanted to see.

 

[Daxton Bane]

Many would expect Daxton to carefully cocooned in one of the local establishments, previewing some of their more famous products. On any other world that would probably be correct. But a careful search of tavern and less than savory bars would yield a surprising discovery, no one would have seen the Dark Lord since festivities began.

No one was probably paying attention to the lone cloaked figure who stood silent by the shoreline, three fat lit candles throwing a feeble light against the cold of night. Only the soft clicking of prayer beads betrayed any sign of movement, unless someone or something were to disturb his meditations....

 

[Alwine Daye]

Location: At the lake
Wearing: Little black dress
Tags: n/a
Post: 2

​

The Lechner siblings had intended on attending this Festival together, but Alwine had become restless on the ship, a need to run ahead of her brothers growing stronger and stronger within the angry wolf until she could no longer hold herself back. Grabbing a little black dress, the 5"0 petite managed to run all the way from the docking area to the lake.

There were things she had to take care of. Before her brothers showed up.

Alwine was not yet very knowledgeable with the Force. Darkside, Lightside, she cared not for those things.

But she knew more than her fair share of ghost stories. Stewjon itself had been infested with them at one point, something that had led her brother to abandoning them all these months ago, when the Confederacy took care of it, and the auflaque took him, leaving the other two behind.

But the Lechner siblings' lives had not started that night. They'd had close to three decades of living before that, Alwine herself living two of these.

And every single day of that life had been shrouded, damaged, and harmed by their mother. Their mother, whom Alwine had delivered the final jaw bite to, removing all the flesh pieces that connected her head to her body. But her brothers had helped, each of them breaking two of the woman's legs so that Alwine, her body injured almost beyond repair, could do it.

There was much work left to repair the damage in the relationship with her brother, Gerwald. There was much to learn about the relationship with her brother, Varick, now that secrecy no longer characterized their conversations and existence. The Lechner siblings were united again, and as long as each of the three fought to fix things, they would be as thick as they once were.

But a ghost of a mother who should have been put to eternal sleep after she had her last child... That could mar it. That could make things worse. That could make things harder.

The rage flowed through Alwine as she searched the vicinity, chocolate eyes trying to find the ghost of a woman who might dare show up.

Because of killing her wasn't enough, she was going to have to find a way to harm her ghost and soul as well.

The Lechner mother was beyond forgiveness.

​

Auflaque = literal translation, "dog". Racial slur. Very very very bad word.

 

[Darth Miseria]

​

Location: Edge of Lake Aleng​

Wearing: [x]​

[member=Jaron Lesan]​

Post One​

​

​

Festivals had always been her favourite thing. The sounds, the lights, the colours, the music, the people. Being a social butterfly, Dianah was totally at ease bouncing from crowd to crowd to exchange small pleasantries. How's the family? What have you been doing since I last saw you? Where's your Father tonight? The latter seemed to be the most frequent but it didn't surprise her as it was an auspicious day for both the Confederacy and House Verd. Krant held a special place in her family's heart. It was home... and it was so good to be back. The blissful feeling of familiar ground underfoot, the smell of the long forgotten air and the sorely missed memories elated her beyond compare. So, appropriately dressed in a gown of Confederacy colours, she happily played the dutiful daughter.

But soon enough even she couldn't ignore the lure this mysterious lake held.

However, this wasn't the only reason she pried herself away from the dazzling atmosphere the festivities created. It had been a long while since she had seen Jaron as their last adventure, which had taken them to Dantooine in search of illusive crystals, had been months ago. He had promised to meet her here after a small amount of convincing on her part. She wasn't surprised that he had been hesitant when she first asked. If the rumours surrounding this lake were really true there was no telling what the night would bring for them but she had high hopes that it would only strengthen their bond.

As the Lake drew nearer she wondered idly about who she might see emerge from its murky depths. There was some part of her that hoped it would be her Mother but what would she say to a woman she barely remembered? The edge of the lake brought her to a stand still. In the calm waters, reflected back at her, was a warped version of her caramel coloured face. Normally the tall trees surrounding her would have felt like a comforting presence. But on a night like tonight, and with what was soon to come, they cast an eerie shadow of paranoia over her bubbly nature.

 

[Jaron Lesan]

Location: Lake Edge​

Wearing: X​

[member="Dianah Vi'Dreya"]​

​

**********************​

​

Could it have been months already? Jaron did not want to even think that the last time he had been alone with Dianah was already months. There had been Kalinda, his flash of red and purple had given him away, but that was a mission, and one that once finished saw them going separate ways once more. Jaron hated the thought of leaving her behind, and often wondered what he would have to give up in order to be at her side always. Of course, she had her own master now, and Jaron could not be so selfish that he kept her from her training. Yet, he wanted to. Even now they were meeting at the edge of the lake, and not arriving together. Why, because their paths kept them apart?

His feet carried him toward her. Jaron had locked onto her presence long before he had seen her, though once she came into view he stopped for a moment. A smirk drew on his face as he hid.

“And there she is, so beautiful and serene. Shall I dare to disturb such a divine creature, my Goddess? Shall I fall to my knees and beg but just one sweet kiss from her lips that I may hope would never end? Her servant is truly miserable in her absence...”

Telepathy was a skill Jaron had yet to teach her, but hoped her new master had. It was hard as Jaron was not an official member of the Jen’ari. There were other duties he had that kept him from giving himself fully over to them, even though it would keep him at Dianah’s side. This was their game however. Despite their coupling, even the physical intimacy that now defined their relationship, the very core of it all was the cat and mouse chase that had begun from the moment she first called him miserable.

Jaron approached from behind her. He decided he could not wait for her to find him behind some tree. His scent, the sound of his breathing, it would all be noticeable to her. His arms wrapped around the front of her waist as a tender kiss was placed on her cheek.

“I have missed you,” he said not willing to let go. “Are the rumors of this place true, shall we meet those who we have lost to death at the water’s edge?”

 

[Maple Harte]

Arrived to Krant in: The Silent Erika (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/130646-the-silent-erika-modified-j-type-327-nubian/)

Wearing: Biker Leathers.

Armed with: Uri's cane (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/124421-uris-cane/)

Objective: Mostly One, partly Two.

Nearby: [member="Alwine Lechner"], [member="Daxton Bane"], [member="Srina Talon"].

The Silent Erika descended through Krant's atmosphere, transmitting friendly ID codes to all relevant Confederacy Vessels.

The black 327 Nubian, asserted by both its current and prior owner to be the sexiest ship ever built, settled on a small landing pad in the city itself, and the mad occupant powered down the vessel, after making a number of extensive checks to make sure the new upgrades were not affecting power to other systems. She'd jammed enough tech into her home to turn it into as much of a Fortress as possible, but the old girl could only handle so much load at once.

She hadn't been paid a visit to by her...'guest' in a while. But she was counting the days until the wretched creature showed up in her head again.

But Maple was here to talk to a different spirit.

She had heard the rumors of Lake Aleng. Never had a chance to visit before now. She was making the time, because that encounter with [member="The Amalgam"] had come out of nowhere. And if the woman was to someday, as she claimed, become The Mind-Binder, Maple needed some intel on just who it was she was dealing with. But searching for The Amalgam physically after Felacat had turned up nothing. But she had learned much more than she had ever wanted to, regardless.

The Amalgam was a ghost, for the most part. Maple could not find her Foe's actual base of operations.

But The Amalgam had certainly had more of a record than any search for the Mind-Binder had ever turned up. She'd been a long time player, it was clear...specialized in deep cover infiltration, had a trail of assassinations linked indirectly to her. A fanatic. But highly skilled. Save for deep cover infiltration (As well as an unusual preference for Laser weaponry, of all things) her known acts read a great deal like many of Uri Udinia's nastier missions. Or Uri's missions read a great deal like The Amalgam's.

For all intents and purposes, they were in the same line of work. But Uri's skill in the Force was laughable. The Amalgam's was not. Maple had little chance at close range. She could match the vile shapeshifter blow for blow at melee combat--barely-perhaps even outgun her-but the Dark Side was The Amalgam's insurance against true victory. Maple knew it had been a combination of overconfidence on The Amalgam's part as well as the will of the Force that she had managed to escape. In either case, the power had clearly gone to the shapeshifter's head years ago: She taunted. She was sloppy. Had their positions been reversed, Maple would have put her down as quickly as possible and not wasted time being mysterious by securing her prisoner and leaving. But given the obvious skill, the purple-eyed woman's arrogance was perhaps deserved.

Maple stared at the mark on her right palm...the mark of a black, jagged crescent. It had marked her, as Doashim had. There had been no sign of its presence since. She slipped a black leather glove over it, clad in her biker gear, and took her sabercane with her. Go armed, but lightly.

She sweapt her long, brown hair from a face that had been in a perpetual frown ever since Felacat. Blinking wet, piercing green eyes darting around in perpetual delusions that happened between the ticks of a second, but felt completely real to her when they did. She thought of getting a drink first, but she needed to be sober. She desperately wanted a drink. She thought about finding food, but that would also distract her.

Maple took out a stick of strawberry flavored bubblegum. She started to chew, letting the taste distract her. She wanted brownies. Gum would do, for now, then brownies, then food, then more brownies, then a dance off with Zombie Anakin Skywalker, then a drink.

But first she needed to reach the Lake itself.

Krant was a lovely looking world. Quaint. Its cobblestone streets reminded her of her childhood home.

She could not remember her mother's face. Sometimes she hated The Order for that. But what's done is done. Some of these Sensitives, they spend years carrying on a feud with Jedi, over petty things, and they never get past it. Like killing a person who believes a certain things solves all their problems, resolves all the doubt eating away at them. All the Loss. Jedi Hunting was for some no different than someone in the civilian world getting a fancy luxury sport speeder with an engine that should not be street legal: It was all to deal with a mid-life crisis.

The festivities were in full swing, Krantian beer enjoyed in large mugs. The chewing gum had already lost its flavor. She spat it out, mouth salivating at the scent of cooked fish. She wanted a beer. Would have settled for a wine cooler. Grape flavored. Maybe Lemon. Did they make Lemon wine coolers. They made murderous death droids, super death masers and more alchemized stuff than she could shake one of her sticks at. They had to be making lemon wine coolers somewhere in this karked up galaxy.

As she traveled through the village, giving a few side glances to the village women (And getting a few in turn.) Maple took note of all the bauble's and trinkets on sale. She enjoyed ivory pieces. She took more note of a red crystal up for prominent display on one stand. It was tended to by an old woman in villagers robes. She had lots of wrinkles and laugh lines, her ashen hair in a ponytail. Her grey eyes focused on Maple.

"We have many wares and trinkets if you are interested." She croaked.

"Is it true, old woman? Do the spirits actually rise on this day?" Maple asked, her alderaani accent coming through.

"Oh yes. I've been witniss to the phenomenon my entire life. Its...how I let go of my husband. He passed last year. Damn Terentatek living in the woods guarding some older-than-chit tomb. Ended up having to send our bravest villager into the woods with an alchemized sword to kill whatever was in there. Poor man still doesn't speak of it." she said with a sigh. "Everybody always thinks those dungeon crawler tabletops are soooo fun until you actually end up living out a scenario just like them."

"Well, Krant was home to a lotta whackos in the past, not unusual for an evil tomb to pop up once in a while."

"Yes, but you'd think it was all the bastards did, given how many we've run into over the years and demolished. Poor Harold Starfree three villages over ate it last year when his house collapsed into a sink hole and the damned Lich in the sarcophagus he'd built his house over without realizing it broke loose."

The old woman paused thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. "Did some amusing things to all those human organs it stole, though. Surprisingly classy approach to its dark rituals, too. Had to kill it with fire, admittedly, but damn was it a gentleman."

"I know the type." Maple replied, thinking of Darth Maranon. Still trapped and impotent in that trinket Sawa had given her. Heh.

"So this crystal you got..."

"Found it in the tomb the animal that killed my husband was guarding. We clear out the treasures, make sure none of its cursed or anything--one guy spontaneously liquified last year when he put on the wrong ring. Ugh. Went through eight mops cleaning him off the floor. Eight."

Maple examined the crystal. She recognized it. Knew Sawa might want it.

It was a Quixoni. Rare. Very rare. An import, obviously.

Maple slapped eight thousand credits on the table.

"That oughta help with local emergencies..."

The woman took her credits, handing her the crystal.

"Tomb robbin'. Never stops paying..." the old woman joked.

Maple chuckled a bit herself. She'd made some of her best money robbing Maranon's tomb of its valuables.

"Just remember...haul ain't worth your life."

"Nobody knows that better than the People of The Lake..." The old woman responded. "Thank you for your business."

Maple pocketed the crystal and walked away to the lake. To her surprise, she saw [member="Alwine Lechner"], gave her a simple nod as she passed by, waiting for the spirits. She saw [member="Daxton Bane"], who'd been on the same assignment to Stewjon and waved at her fellow Mandragora before settling a respectable distance away, waiting for the festivities to start.

 

[Alwine Daye]

Location: At the lake
Wearing: Little black dress
Tags: [member="Maple Harte"]
Post: 3

​

Know your place, woman. That had been the sentence she had been raised to adhere. Ever since she could understand speech well enough, and it did not matter whether she was four, fourteen, or nineteen. Know your place, woman.

Yes mother, Alwine thought, I know my place. My place is not where you intended it to be. My place is far away from you, far away from Stewjon. My place is where I will choose it to be, and I shall choose it after I see and taste what the galaxy outside of Stewjon has to offer. You have failed, mother-Lechner. I am a free woman. I am a free wolf. You will never imprison me again.

Chocolate brown eyes stared over the lake as she let her thoughts wander. Her mother... She had been a violent and abusive mother. She could not recall a gentle touch, an encouraging moment. Nothing, nothing save... Save the time she had first shifted. Whereas before, her mother had warned and threatened with no end, it was during her first shift that she had been encouraging, guiding her through it, being... Almost gentle.

That such an important moment in Alwine's life would be stained the presence of that queen. It was maddening. She would have preferred to have her brothers there, to have them guide her, to be able to at last join them when they ran through the forests. But her brothers had been away on a mission with the warriors of Stewjon, and her body had decided on its own when to go through the change for the first time.

But after that night, Alwine had been filled with dread and horror. She had never shifted near her mother again. Perhaps her mother had sought the moment to bring them closer together, but for Alwine, that had been the moment she saw her mother for what she truly was. Not merely a bad and abusive parent, but in that moment of kindness, she had seen the monster for what she truly was.

Such were the memories that rose to the surface of her mind as she waited by the lake, but mother-Lechner did not show up.

Alwine averted her gaze, her eyes falling on..

If she did not have the Lupine scent, she would never have known the woman. She had never even seen her, having kept her eyes firmly shut in that prison cell until Varick held her. But she recognized her scent. And that nod... Could only mean that the woman recognized her too.

Alwine immediately walked over to her.

"You were the first to reach my cell on Stewjon," she said as a very matter of fact, "I do not know if my brothers ever properly thanked you. But for checking if I was all right, for being... For a moment of gentleness, I thank you. I am Alwine Lechner and I am free now."

 

[Daxton Bane]

Daxton saw [member="Maple Harte"] in the distance waving to him and he hesitated for a second, not that he wanted to rude but rather he finished the incantation first before waving back. When dealing with spirits, one should exercise care to never give them an opening they could exploit, those without corporeal form always sought any means to return to the physical realm if they could for as long as they could.

While he was not expecting any visitors so soon, perhaps the young woman would join him in his vigil. His curiousity was peaked, after all he wouldn’t have expected to see her here seeking an audience with those who have passed. Should she join him by the shore, he would welcome her company to pass the time.

 

[Karlie Lynn Destat]

​

Location: In the village by the lake
Ship: Castan LCX-L3
Wearing: Casual red shirt and jeans
Post: 1




It weren't at all the acquisition of Krant's mineral rich moon Areene, nor the complimentary tera-formed Geddes with it's own share of minerals that had been mined out of that moon since the old Empire, that interested Castagne. In fact, Krant really had no more value to Castagne than any other of its trading system partners within the CIS. As thus, Karlie's presence on Krant itself was not by any official decree from her bureau nor Castagne's Cabinetry.

She was here like most who had heard of the legends pertaining around the particular Festival of the Lost. It were said that one's dearest or closest to you were given a moment within the realm of the living...or an hour or so.
This folklore had peaked Karlie's interest for she had once been connected..or more to the point, possessed by her sith mother's will.
But since her mother's demise at the age of 12 till the age of 20, before she went through with the development of the Sebrix-9 project, Karlie could feel her mother's will through her dreams...tugging, pulling her toward the dark side. It was certain that her mother's sith spirit wanted to posses her daughters body. It was inevitable it seemed.
But since the Sebrix-9 eradication of her midicloreans, her dreams were vacant of her mother's spirit. Now five years free of midi and her mother's haunting dreams, Karlie wondered if such folklore as the one on Krant could be true or were just figments of individual's imagination...wishful thinking that their loved ones or spirits of the past revisited them here...if even for a moment.

Of course, Karlie had no love whatsoever for whom had incubated her. She just wanted to see if those dead remained on their side of the line...indefinitely.

But the day had a long arc to follow Krant's starlight before it would dip below the horizon.
Karlie had come planet side the night before, securing her personal ship away from the main tourist designated landing zones. She wasn't planning on staying much longer than to see the folklore go bust. In the mean time, she was set in enjoying what the festival brought during the day.

 

[Caid Centurion]

Location: Lake-side
Nearby: [member="Alwine Lechner"] | [member="Maple Harte"]
Post: 1

The loud music combined with the raucous cheering and celebrating of the inhabitants of Krant and its assorted guests was little more than an irritation to Caid. Silver-green eyes drifted around the large cantina as he leaned back lazily into the cushions of his own booth. It seemed very much your typical celebratory affair at the moment. That is to say, large groups of exceedingly drunk men attempting to subdue by fire and conquer smaller groups of females...most of them either not drunk, not interested, or some combination of the two. However, there was always the occasional outlier that had no problem making it known they were on the hunt. From what Caid could surmise from his travels, that was how a galaxy of 5's and 6's could lock down 8's and 9's.

I suppose I can respect the hustle.

After downing the rest of his mug of Krant Beer, the large Sith placed the mug on top of the table and slid out of his booth. Once he'd deposited a few credit chips on the table, Caid made his way towards the exit. Stepping out into the crisp evening air, the young Centurion pulled the hood of his crimson-trimmed black cloak over his head. He'd not elected to come dressed as if he was going to some fancy party. That was probably because Caid hadn't attended a party in...well ever. Sure, he had been to several official functions, but that was mostly back in the days when he was still with the Republic.

As such, he was dressed simply in a pair of black pants but no shirt beneath the flowing cloak which glided lightly over the ground, just barely touching its surface. It was the typical casual attire for Caid...a penchant that apparently was relatively normal on both the paternal and maternal sides of his family. For a moment, Caid actually allowed his mind to drift to the reason most people were here. A hope, a desire to reconnect with loved ones? To remember the events of times passed...either from a standpoint of bitter happiness or some other nostalgic need to cling to that which was done, gone.

Caid didn't understand pretty much any of that poodoo. Those he had lost in his life had either served their purpose in life or they hadn't. He would learn from their actions...be they successful or not, and we would push ahead to forge his own destiny, his own legacy. The last thing he needed was some ghost popping up out of the water regaling him with their necrotic, introspective word vomit.

As Caid stopped at the edge of the lake-of-remembrance, the Sith Lord could not help but smirk. It was amusing to him to consider what it would have been like to have become so attached to anyone...that an individual missed them in death. His smirk slowly gave way to his usual neutral expression as his bright gaze shifted around the lake at the various distant figures. That is, until his gaze fell on the not-so-distant figures of Alwine and Maple. His eyes only lingered slightly longer than usual.

For whom and what reason...well..maybe Cameron Centurion would jump out the water and give his two cents.

 

[Darth Miseria]

​

Location: Edge of Lake Aleng​

Wearing: [x]​

[member=Jaron Lesan]​

Post Two​

​

​

​

A baritone voice filled the spaces overcome by paranoia in her mind, it brought her round from the daze of serious thought. The sound of it brought an unabashed squeal of excitement to escape her lips. In the silence of the night it must have travelled further than she realised. This little game of their's had continued on since moment one of their meeting and she adored every minute of it. Since they had seen each other last Dianah had acquired a new Master who came in tow with some new tricks. She was more than eager to show them off.

'Then all is as it should be, my miserable devoted servant. I may reward you with that kiss... if you keep your promise to fall at my knees and beg.'

It felt good to be able to reply to his jest in kind. She felt the aching muscles of her mind stretch to life after the forceful sleep the festivities had brought. His signature was such a comforting presence now that she felt completely at ease with letting her own flow freely.

His strong arms wrapped neatly around the curve of her waist. She closed her eyes to the feeling of his lips on her skin and all at once everything fell into place again. Jaron had a way of bringing peace to her hectic mind. Every worry and pressure melted away with the heat of his frame against hers. Dianah wrapped her own arms around his and settled herself in his embrace. The beginnings of a content smile worked its way onto her lips.

'I hope they're true, otherwise I've missed the chance to show you off to everyone.'

She looked up and shot him a playful smile. It was a joke, of course. Dianah did want too introduce him to a few people, but the party that she had just come from would have been a nightmare for Jaron. Her silent lover was more of a recluse. It was part of the reason they fit together so well. They were two halves of a whole, she was loud and bubbly where as he was serious and still. He slowed her down and made her think more deeply about things and in return she taught him to forget his miserable facade and enjoy the more eccentric side of life.

Dianah turned in the circle of safety his arms made. Her tall heels boosted her enough so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. Even with her added height she felt small in his hold, just as she liked it. She pressed her lips against the bare skin of his neck and spoke after a long blissful sigh.

'Who do you hope to see?'

 

[Varick Lechner]

Location: The Near Rest Bar (this is what happens when you have a puntastic Swedish son)
Nearby: [member="Antoine Rhys"]
Objective: Drinking while looking fabulous
Garments: A perfectly tailored suit


There were a few brief moments when Varick entertained the thought of chasing after Alwine as she left before her brothers had pulled themselves together for the occasion. But only a few, before he checked his over-protective streak at the top of the ramp and simply watched her go. It would do no good, he mused, to be overbearing, when she had amply demonstrated that she was capable of taking of herself.

But given that they were on Krant, in the midst of the Festival of the Lost, he still worried. Varick knew full well that Alwine would no doubt seek out the spirit of their mother, and he very nearly felt a moment of pity for the recently departed woman. Whatever afterlife or hell she was experiencing, it would pale in the light of Alwine’s intense rage, and he had no doubt that his little sister would find a way to make it exponentially worse.

With a sigh, he nodded to Gerwald and strode slowly down the ramp, making a mental not of the direction Alwine had take and purposefully choosing another. The quaint cobblestone path he soon trod upon took him through a charming hamlet that was alive with the bustle of the festival and ablaze with lights. He was hard pressed to not smile as he walked, sliding effortlessly through the crowds and catching glimpses of wisp-like orbs that faded into and out of visibility at the outskirts.

There was one that came to a stop before him as he paused in a darkened storefront to get his bearings, the orb resolving into a familiar form that he had last seen as life had left its cerulean gaze. Varick straightened, and his gaze narrowed as he stared at it, a faint snarl crossing his features. He had nothing to say to Davon, and there was no measure of apology the man’s spirit could offer no measure of apology that would make what had happened on Stewjon any more palatable.

Turning his back deliberately towards the spirit, Varick strode off and vowed to not think about it any longer. There were far bigger and better things to attend to, and this evening called for drink and discourse with those of the Confederacy he had not yet been able to meet. He paused briefly once more, setting a small rambunctious child on its feet after the little boy had stumbled into him amidst a child’s game of chase. Smiling to himself, he ducked into the Near Rest Bar, lofting an amused brow at the carved sign overhead.

Once inside, he absently adjusted his suit jacket and casually flipped his hair over his shoulder. Steps carried him to a bar, and his voice rumbled softly as he ordered one of the local ales Krant was famous for. Sipping slowly, he turned to look over those within the bar, and his gaze landed upon a very handsome sight not too far away, gaze tracing the line of his smirk.

That one was trouble, he was sure of it.

But the best kind of it, no doubt.

 

[hbomb656]

Location:
~| Krant
~| Roaming the streets of Alengside.
~| The Near Rest Bar
Objective:
~| EXPLORE
~| Enjoy the festival.
Hey you:
~| [member="Varick Lechner"] | [member="Antoine Rhys"]
Post:
~| One

Jorge walked through an alley making his way into every shop. He hadn't bought anything from the stores yet, he was only browsing. After leaving the last shop with nothing in hand, he made his way towards the nearest bar. Which after sometime of looking, he would learn that the one he did find was coincidentally called the Near Rest Bar. The smuggler entered the building, climbed the stairs, and he immediately walked over to the bar. Although before he ordered he called out to viking in a suit asking if he could name the ale the locals brewed during the festival.

But halfway through his question he stopped and thought an alternative solution to his problem and he turned to the bartender to say, "I'll have what that man's having." With that the bartender turned away and a minute later Jorge received his drink. He took the glass in hand and drank, but he quickly set it down in shock of how it held up to its reputation. Jorge smiled at the bartender, gave his thanks, picked up his glass and stepped away from the bar. Jorge looked around the room and only pegged two people to be CIS types, the viking man and the not so viking man, anyways Jorge wanted to use this festival to meet people he hadn't met yet and possibly be hired for new jobs, so he approached [member="Antoine Rhys"].

"Hello there, I would think you're here for the festival right?" he'd say to Antoine with a smile.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: nearest bar
People nearby: [member="Varick Lechner"] [member="Jorge"]
Post: 4


The seconds ticked by too slowly as people at last began to enter the little cantina. Antoina rolled his eyes, every passing minute convincing him more that he would not be meeting with his soon to be ex-secretary. She had erred too harshly and did not deserve a final goodbye in the form of experiencing a bed with sheets that were worth more than her quarterly salary.

And still, the people that began to enter the place seemed so... Mediocre. It was as though the population of the Confederacy did much in their power to ensure they not only not looked their best, but out right tried to uglify themselves. Antoine could not comprehend it. Why would a woman not add a slight touch of color to her face to make her eyes pop out? Why would a man go for something baggy rather than form fitting to ensure Antoine could enjoy the movement of the parts beneath the fabric, even if only with his eyes? The groups within the CIS were in dire need of stylists and fashion consultants. Perhaps he should make rounds later, hand business cards for friends he had in that business. With the recent destruction of Coruscant, many of them had chosen to close shops and now operated out of their ships, which would make things easier for the lazy people of the faction.

Antoine had just been ready to call it a night and retire to his ship, where he knew a few buxom ladies (and a single buxom gent, don't ask) would be readily available to make him forget this waste of time, when one very fine specimen at last entered the cantina. Antoine took a sip from his drink, making it very obvious that he was not staring at the tall man with hair that could make women weep in jealousy ([member="Varick Lechner"]). He immediately wanted to run his fingers through that hair, to remain and keep both of the silent as he explored every inch of what he could easily tell was a very fine body that was insufficiently put to show with that button shirt and those pants. It was truly a sad thing that not all of the galaxy shared Antoine's tastes and he would have to tread gently. Even that gorgeous smirk was not an instant invitation though certain body parts of his begged for attention that he would soon be checking whether or not he would be giving them with this man.

He had just been about to pick his glass up and move to the handsome stranger, when someone he had not even noticed came up and spoke to him ([member="Jorge"]). Antoine blinked, making a point of the fact that he had to look a few inches down.

"Aren't we all?" he asked with indifference, eyes darting back to the blonde man momentarily before looking again at the one in front of him. No, the one in front of him was less... Was entirely not his taste. Was he another one of those Confederates in dire need of a shower? "May I help you?" Antoine sighed, his impatience beginning to show in his tone. If this ... Whoever he was, was going to attempt to make him miss his chance with Tall & Blonde, he was going to find a way to have him skinned.

 

[Maple Harte]

Maple had been gazing on the lake, reminiscing of her past. At least, what she thought was her past.

Ursula was not dead. Maple knew that much...somehow. There would be no point calling on her. And even if she was dead, Maple probably still would not have called on her. While the animosity Maple held towards her former Jedi Master was not the same as the animosity [member="Alwine Lechner"] had towards her own mother, even in death--it was not enough to make her slay the woman when next they met--it was also hot enough in its intensity that the former Shadow was not certain she would ever be able to forgive Mimban, or what it had done to her, carrying out that mission.

It had been Mimban, in a sense, that had finally killed Uri Udinia. More than the doubt, more than the hunt for The Mind-Binder, more than Siva's affection, even--Mimban's jungles had finished off Uri. Mimban's jungles had created Maple Harte, the assassin she had been buried in a snow of madness, not water.

She turned, watching Alwine approach her, expressing her gratitude. Maple nodded politely.

"A pleasure to see you up and about, Miss Lechner. I've been exactly where you've been, getting the crap kicked out of me. You actually pretty damn secured in that place, to tell the truth--those Stewjon karks didn't take chances--actually reminded me of some imperial prison camps I've spent an extended stay in. But where are my manners. You're welcome...and my name is Maple Harte. Bounty Hunter by trade, witch by circumstance, and Lunatic by birth. Also...fond of sweets. And badassery."

Maple had to admit she admired brazen escapes. She herself had once jumped off a crashing Star Destroyer to catch a falling Star Fighter (It was a TIE fighter, if anyone's curious). But Alwine turning into a wolf and then running past everyone, that...that was even better than the time she had evaded pursuers by hiding under a cardboard box. (Ursula had called bullchit when Maple had told her the story--"Holo-pics, or it didn't happen." had been her exact words.)

"So...who among the departed brings you to this useful anomaly in The Dark Side? I'm here to talk to a old friend for advice. I'm after the person I think killed him." she explained, noting a strong dangerous looking man radiating the Dark Side, close by.

[member="Daxton Bane"] waved back and Maple made a mental note to join him after conversing with Alwine.

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[A'Runda]

​

Location: Edge of the lake​

Wearing: Tusken Garbs (what did you expect, a tuxedo?)​

​

This was probably the first time A'Runda had spent with the rest of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Only having less then a handful of interactions with some notable members within it. He was more or so just here for the festival taking place on the planet. It being something that truly intrigued him. Would he ever see the spirit of someone he new?

Standing by the shore of the lake, the Tusken looked out over the vast body of water. It was a little mind blowing to think that only a fraction of a fraction of the Tusken population would even have the chance to see so much water and greenery in their existence was slim. The thought of that was something that made him feel even more extraordinary. But even then their plenty of other individuals throughout the galaxy who live lives as simple and isolated as the Tuskens. He wasn't all that sure if these thoughts made him feel big, or small in the universe. Perhaps both.

Figuring that there wouldn't be much for him to do while waiting for anything to possibly happen. He stepped up the shore some more, still facing in the lake, and sat himself down on the still moist shore. He closed his eyes and began to focus some on the energy around him. He was still trying to get used to more "noisy" environments as he often put it. Since he's used to the barren world of Tatooine his Force sense wasn't used to such lush settings. So it was something that he worked on trying to get used to while he was off world. During his little exercise he felt something, a sort of presence with him. Curious to see what it was he opened one eye before the other.

It seemed that he wasn't alone anymore...

 

[Alwine Daye]

Location: At the lake
Wearing: Little black dress
Tags: [member="Maple Harte"]
Post: 5

​

Introductions were made. The woman's name was Maple Harte. Alwine did not know if this was a combination of common names outside of Stewjon, but to her, that name spoke of a special person. As Maple spoke, Alwine could not deny an instant liking to the woman, which she was certain she would have felt even if the two had not shared a horrifying moment in the prisons of Stewjon.

The only bit that send an unhappy shiver down the little wolf's spine was the mention of Maple being a witch. In truth though, it was a mere prejudice; the auflaque was the head of the witches in the Confederacy, and Alwine would have loved to see her fur being turned into someone's mantelpiece. Still, she chose to speak nothing of the subject, especially when she was so harshly aware that her education had ensured she would be behind everyone else once she was off Stewjon. But that was a matter for another time.

As Maple asked about her reason for being here, Alwine clasped her hands behind her back. An automatic movement, beaten into her until she learned to constantly do it when her parents or those outside her family were speaking. She frowned at herself, bringing her hands back forward. This was not Stewjon. She was not expected, nor would she be punished, for not keeping a meek and demure outward appearance here. In her mind, she knew she was free, both as a woman and as a wolf. But her emotions... They would need some time to catch up. It was to be anticipated.

"My mother," she answered at last, her hands feeling so strange to be free, to not be clasped. Her fingers tingled, not entirely knowing what to do with themselves. "she was a taint on the life of my brothers and myself and should have been removed from life after she was done producing offspring. But ghosts are to come here, as I've heard, and if ghosts are real, then they can be killed. If she appears as a ghost, I will kill her again, as I did the night you helped release me from the prison."

Her tone was cold as she spoke of her mother, almost detached. She had not an ounce of love to the woman who had birthed her, not a single drop of it. The only people she had ever loved and still did were her brothers. A random thought swifted by through Alwine's mind; was she even capable of loving those who were not in her pack? But she sat that thought aside. It would not do to dwell on such matters now.

Her eyes flickered once to the sides, noting the presence of [member="Daxton Bane"] and [member="Caid Centurion"], but she did not motion towards these strangers.

The little wolf returned her gaze to Maple. "I would be honored if you could tell me about this friend and you chase after the one you believe killed him," she said with a little smile. Was her tone too formal? She was not sure, "you seem to be a person with enough tales to tell until the break of dawn."