Kabal Stomp | CIS Dominion of Kabal

[Kaia Verd]

Wearing: X

For Kaia this celebration was a good change of pace mostly she spent her time hunting bounties with her father or training with her mother, she had little down time to do whatever she wanted to do. The small girl was very excited about this opportunity to have fun. She was always one to dress to impress, on this day she was wearing a beautiful grey lace off the shoulder crop top, with this she paired with a matching grey full length skirt with a slit that went up to her mid thigh.

As soon as she arrived she was automatically made her way to the dance floor, she swayed along to the music. Something she had picked up in the little free time she had was dancing she loved the way music made her feel and wanted to express that all the time. All was going well until the man bumped into her. She felt him hit her and then time began to move in slow motion. She felt her feet come out from under her, time seemed to stand still as she fell toward the floor. She landed hard on her back and her hearing aide fell off, she saw the man offer a hand and she rummaged around on the floor for her hearing aide, she found it but only after taking the hand up. She put it back in and accepted his apology.

[member="Damien Van-Derveld"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Objective: Acquire Information regarding Impending Threat​

Location: Undisclosed Location, Indoors​

Tag: Open​

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"I do not think they will endure much more, Sister."

A body hung in mid-air in the middle of a dark chamber nestled in the heart of an nondescript building. Before it stood two women with two more flanking the worn soul among them. Blood dripped a drop at a time rejoining the drops before it hitherto believed lost forever. Such a sweet, crimson union. The dim candlelight was the sole source of illumination, which cast deep shadows over all present. Little was distinguishable of the suspended mess except of glimmers of red on once pale flesh.

Eyes accustomed to the low light once more constricted in annoyance when the green glow returned.

"They will endure much more, Sister," the Dathomiri woman's voice hissed. "Unlike the methods of Offworlders, we Nightsisters know how to prolong suffering to its fullest."

While the world outside danced, cheered, and celebrated their new found release, others had to contend with the very real world that had not suspended itself for a celebration. The Crucible had not bid them all a fond farewell. They would set upon this planet again and spread among the stars like a plague. There had been whispers... Oracles had spoken of a coming trial or tribulation that be beset them all. It would not catch them unaware.

A magickal shield encompassed the room to silence the howls of the damned. Physical pain was just one method the creature suffered. Mental and spiritual toil were the most prevelent with the body only languished so the mind or soul did not become too accustomed to assault.

Some time later the pale skinned woman emerged with the Witch that had made her home among those of Kabal. Vytal's eyes had lost none of their edge as she strode out into the open. A man offered her a cup of water, which the Nightsister took with a nod of appreciation. "Organized. They are too organized," she hissed.

"They held a firm grip on this world for some time. Is it any surprise?"

Perhaps. Vytal took a slow drink of the water as she drifted over toward a window to look out over the city. "They'll retaliate, and we know not how. Even the Oracles cannot see, which troubles me greatly."

The black haired woman stopped beside the Nightsister and gazed out into the city as well. "The future is not always clear."

"Just because it is in motion does not mean we should be blind to it. I fear they possess magick of their own; this makes them a greater threat than I hoped." Much as she liked a fight, these Offworlders did not fight, they skulked in the shadows manipulating others to do their bidding. Cowards all. "We will need to find one of their number that knows."

"We run out of candidates, Mistress Noctura."

A soft harrumph followed the statement of fact. "Then we will find more."

 

[Damien Van-Derveld]

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w. [member="Kaia Verd"]​

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Damien had not noticed the hearing aid until she put it back in her ear. It was a curious thing to the wolf. While he knew there were people who needed help hearing, Damien knew he would not be able to live if he could not hear. Hearing and smell were the two most important senses to him and to his wolf. Sight was a more preferable sense to lose that the others. For a moment Damien felt pity for the girl. He smiled as she stood up and accepted his apology.

"Again, I am so sorry. I'm Damien," he said as he let go of her hand and nodded. "Care to dance?"

His head nodded toward the dance floor, or at least deeper into the crowd. She was younger than him, Damien could tell by looking at her. That did not mean they could not have fun dancing. Being away from Dathomir was odd for Damien at times. There were moments when he forgot that he needed to initiate with those of the opposite gender. Even though his grandmother had him convinced he would one day be some kind of dark side savior, Damien was still very much a nightbrother is many ways.

 

[Luna V]

Location: Canals | Objective: Explore | Outfit: x ​

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Luna scanned John's attire, indeed it was formal and he looked very presentable. However, his tie had been loosened – it looked intentional, so she made no attempt to correct its appearance. Her eyebrows rose slightly when [member="John Locke"] mentioned that parties could be overwhelming. She had not been to a party yet, but she could conjure images of social gatherings with a simple search. And, she 'imagined' it might be quite a lot of sensory information to analyze.

“Is it a common behavior of organics to smile more than is necessary?” She asked, curious. The mention of one hiding intentions behind a 'mask' was quite an interesting thought, too. Luna attempted to grasp what her friend was saying as she glanced about their current surroundings. This was a picture-perfect location, with water flowing in the canals, attractive architecture, and content organics. How could this be more... real?

The HRD decided to dedicate some time to ponder this question at a later time.

“It is a different experience,” she said. “It is... fascinating,” Luna said with a small nod. “I have been familiarizing myself with operations on Kashyyyk as well.” She smiled, she did like the world of Wroshyr trees. “It is, you might say, a learning process.”

 

[Kalporra Djacq]

// [member="Quint Salis"] \\​

And Kal gave her approval. Normally, she wouldn't care much to make sure someone was doing a job right, unless that someone was her and that job was an assault, but given the nature of this one she did.

"Oh, uh," she began, quickly deciding if lying to telling the truth would serve her better. In the span of a mere second, she weighed the pros and cons, and settled somewhere in the middle. "Fifty fifty, domestic abuse and police brutality, if you'd believe it." She kept her voice low, for Quint's ears only to hear. Her plan was to play nice, answer his questions (for more were likely to come) but vaguely. If his imagination wanted to fill in the blanks, she wouldn't correct it, assuming of course it didn't wander too closely to the truth.

 

[Kaia Verd]

[SIZE=10.5pt]As the man once again apologized Kaia would smile at him, to be honest there was something about this guy that made her heart skip a beat. To her his eyes were beautiful, being one who couldn't hear half the time for her hearing aid being prone to shorting out she was one who admired the beauty of one’s eyes over all else.[/SIZE] The small girl could feel the heat rising to her face as a blush reddened her cheeks. She had never been the emotional type because of how she was raised, her parents were Mandalorian which meant for them battle was everything, emotions were secondary and sometimes nonexistent.

[SIZE=10.5pt]As the guy offered her a dance she would speak in her naturally high-pitched and singsong voice. “[/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt]Of course[/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt]” Having answered she would offer him her hand which was not the normal but she felt it was the right move to make as she tried to mask her blush[/SIZE]

[member="Damien Van-Derveld"]

 

[Quint Salis]

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w. [member="Kalporra Flynn"]​

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Police brutality. The phrase struck a chord with Quint as his past was filled with mistreatment at the hands of police. Granted it would have helped had he not been illegally peddling spice, but the options for an orphan to survive on the streets alone rarely were the legal kind. Quint had his own marks, some physical, and they were also the result of police brutality. The moment he heard those two words, Quint came to an understanding of the woman others may not have.

He simply nodded.

Things were quiet for a bit as he finished setting up. It was Quint's turn to decide how much he was going to reveal about his own life and past. Unlike Kal, Quint had knowledge of the woman which made coming to that answer much easier than it had for her. As he began to draw the outline of the design, Quint started telling his own story.

"They liked to use things which didn't leave marks, but sometimes the prison guard didn't care. You could always tell when you were gonna get beat to. Most days when the guard came to work in a foul mood, you know someone was gonna get hit that day. You don't have to say anymore than you already have on that note. I know it all too well."

Quint simply started drawing. Kal would say something, or she wouldn't. Either way Quint was pretty sure they would come to a quick understanding of each other the moment it dawned on her Quint had not always been an honest man. He still wasn't, but he sure liked that people thought he was. Force knew he tried to be.

"So is there some sleazy ex out there that needs someone to teach him a lesson, or did you take care of that already..."

 

[Damien Van-Derveld]

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w. [member="Kaia Verd"]​

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The girl was blushing. Even if she wanted to hide it, the wolf inside Damien would have known it. His ears would hear how her heart beat just a little faster, and the nose would pick up on the trace amount of pheromones the human body produced. Damien was used to the attention, what he was not used to was someone trying to hide it. If this was Dathomir the girl would take what she wanted. She was young however, and was likely very innocent. There was something about that Damien felt the need to protect. He was not some hound, despite his species.

He took her hand and walked her further toward the dance floor. The music was loud of course, and the beat was decent. Damien could feel the base thumping his chest, leaving no real excuse for anything to be off rhythm. For Damien, he just simply had no rhythm. While he enjoyed dancing, he was not the best at it. As he began to sway with the music it would be quite clear that his best moves were about all that was currently on display.

Damien tried to shout over the loud music so he could be heard.

"I won't step on your toes, but I am not good at this."

 

[Alwine Daye]

Wearing: Dress
Tags: [member="9-LOM"]

Alwine had not wanted to come to this celebration. As far as she was concerned, there was absolutely nothing for the Confederacy to celebrate. Though it was true that their Mandalorian enemy in the North-East had been vanquished, many of the enemies that still existed within domestic territories were still as active as ever. Planets that were under Confederate control still suffered due to lack of attention and work done by the very same government that had promised them freedom but had not mentioned that the freedom would be granted based on its mood and those it had claimed to take responsibility for could in most cases just fester and die off if they did not become relevant soon enough.

No. She was not a happy camper.

And on top of that… Her brother. She had seen him. Her hand had gone to her heart as she felt it shatter. There had been very few words spoken but none about what had happened to him. None about how she had told him not to go off and do something stupid, and he had gone off and did something stupid. And now… What remained of her brother, she did know. She did not trust the leader of the Confederacy that had taken a strange claim on him, and already she could feel the gentle threads of their pack unfolding, breaking down. Alwine had warned her brother, and warned both of her brothers, that their pack was fragile, and would not survive all their abuse towards it. She wished that she had been wrong, but she was not.

And thus she found herself on this promenade, even the smell of flowers in the war evening sky did little to improve her mood. She was not on duty tonight, yet her legs still carried her to the rounds that some of the security she knew were doing, droids and organics alike. It was an old habit, on that continued with her since her early days with the Confederacy, where in the attempt to pull her weight at home in ways that did not include cleaning and cooking, she had sought to take on as many mundane missions as she could while practicing to become good enough for the non-mundane missions in between. Those had been naïve months for Alwine, when she had hope that things would improve, that the Lechners would be able to rebuild all that had been wronged. But those had been the hopes of a little child. Now, she knew better.

From the not so distant distance, she could see someone ([member="9-LOM"]) speaking with a droid. She had never seen either of them before, and her wolfish eyes took an interest; it was a shame that as a Lupine, she enjoyed metahuman hearing, but nothing about the sight improved things for her. Sometimes, she suspected that Lupines saw slightly less good than humans in both forms, but she had never ventured to check her theory out.

Seeing no reason to conceal her curiosity, the petite blonde just continued to stare, even after one of the droids had taken his leave.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wearing: Dress
Wielding: Always those knives hidden.
Tags: [member="Ardasz Verd"] | Open

Scherezade leaned back and stared at the sky. It had been a handful of minutes since she'd boarded the gondola, not realizing in advance how slow the things were. Taking a tour around the canals had seemed at first like a smart idea, a nice way to fill a lazy early evening while pretending to be around because she cared in that exact moment, but now she wasn't sure. The gentle sway of the wooden boat above the water, combined with the relaxing atmosphere the planet had to offer had present, had sent her mind reeling.

Everything that had ever gone wrong now floated to the surface of her mind, and try as she might, the boat ride did not soothe it, but only make it worse. She could handle the images, the frozen scenes inside her memories, the way people looked and smelled like when they talked to her or referred to her. That part was simple enough. That part followed her everywhere. Not even her attempt at death had undone it, eased it, or made it go away. But it was the emotional responses of her heart, the pain in her chest that rose with them now, that she did not understand. That made her feel as though the very breath had been punched out of her.

Words eluded her. She wanted to open her mouth and tell the boat man to stop the boat, to let her off, but her throat had run dry. There was no amount of syllables that she could now put together to get something semi-intelligible out. Glowing green eyes looked up from the bottom of the boat to which they'd been glued, and the Sithling gasped, trying to find the air that had somehow ceased to exist in her lungs.

There were other people on the boat. She was not alone. And still she could not find the words, to ask one of them for help, to make them stop the boat so she could get off. For a heart beat, she almost jumped into the water just to get away; but even in her current state she knew that would be suicide. Scherezade didn't know how to swim, had never had the time to pick it up during all her running from mission to mission and training herself to become a better and better combatant.

Another gasp, and her hands gripped the edge of the gondola now, her knuckles going white. A touch more, and she would snap the wood wither bare hands. No, no, no… She didn't want to cause a scene. She didn't want to make a scene. She had to find her self control, the way to avoid it, to-

The wood snapped between her fingers, splinters flying all around, many of them lodging into the flesh of her hands.

Scherezade turned a deadly pale.

 

[John Locke]

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Location: Kabal
Objective: Explain himself
Tagging: [member="Luna V"]

“Sometimes,” John glanced over at the fae of his friend before he sighed, resting his elbows on the edges of the balustrade as he leaned forward, his dark eyes flicking out over the canal. “How do I explain this, the people at the party, sure, some of them will be genuinely there to relax and enjoy themselves, but a lot of them are there to be seen, to see others.” He turned slowly to nod at Luna, “Parties like this, they’re not always about the celebration, the number of backroom deals, of social changes that happen at a gathering like that, it’s mindboggling but,” a hand swept out towards the crowd by the canal, “they’re not here for that.” A hand came up to wave at the crowd, “It’s a father taking his kids out, a couple curled up with a hot drink talking about the future. This is what’s real, this connection between people.”

The cyborg fell silent for a moment before a soft smile tugged up the corner of his lips, the light of nostalgia dancing in the corner of his eyes. “My parents used to take us out to this market, it wasn’t that much different from the canal here, the same stalls the same types of people, just different stories. I think that’s what I love most about coming to places like this, no matter where in the galaxy you go, you can see the same stories, and they just feel that much more genuine. It makes a change from all the politicking, from people who want things from you. They’re…welcoming just because that’s who they are.” John’s smile was slightly larger now, genuine as he pushed away from the wall. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself out here, I had to be reminded not that long ago why it is I got into this, why we do what it is we do. I figure it’s not a bad lesson to learn, especially if we want to get you out of the lab once in a while,” the cyborg’s hands slipped back into his pockets as he teased his friend, ambling slowly down the street, some of those stalls were calling his name.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Objective: Plan the Next Move - Relax​

Location: River Walk Cafe​

Tag: Open​

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Vytal looked down at the talisman that floated two inches above her open palm. It spun in circles, settled in a gentle arc, and then swept side to side violently at times. Someone was going to great lengths to conceal their presence. While it was true the Confederacy had the Mandragora -- an organization of magick users -- they were not yet as well known as perhaps the Dauntless. Why then did these creatures seem prepared to counter being tracked by such wielders of Power? The Nightsister was certain this bode ill for them in the future.

She stopped beside the river and looked down its length. Slowly a deep breath was drawn in and then released. Sounds of celebration carried over the wind even here. What it must be like to be so well received; once the Nightsister had tried though to little effect. She should do so again. There was strength in the Mandragora being in the shadows, but it was not their intention. Let them to their study, but do not forget them for they held the knowledge and wisdom assembled by the entire Confederacy.

With the talison tucked back into a pocket, the pale woman turned to track those that walked the river this evening up or downstream.

Alone, the pale woman turned and made her way to a nearby cafe with tables set up for passersby to occupy for a time. Vytal decided to claim such a seat and let the fresh air reinvigorate her mind. It would come to her in time, she was certain. Hopefully it would not be too late in the telling. There was no need to grow tense over what was yet outside of her reach, however. She would plan their next move, and the future would unfold as it will.

 

[9-LOM]

w. [member="Alwine Lechner"]

The guardsman having departed left Nine with a sense of satisfaction and curiosity. The droid stood in its usual, deathly still idle, this time as it perused the holonet for information regarding Kabal's waterspider nesting season. Spiders were mostly what they would consider a 'moderate' threat, though the percentage increased as did the creatures' size. It took a heavy blaster rifle to penetrate the hardened carapaces of enlarged arachnoids. Luckily their Valken rifle more than fulfilled that need.

Once Nine found the information they were looking for, their attention returned to the rather dull, but necessary celebrations. If the droid was ever going to solidify a high profile among the new confederacy elite, it was through such events. Fortunately, they already had one reason to return to Kabal, thanks to the Imroosian security chief. As someone who has worked within military ranks on contract, Nine knew well not to interrupt organics that were in discourse. They grew rather shrewd.

The droid's large, Gand-like head panned across the various sub-groups of chatting organics, looking for anything interesting. Apart from the crowd, an exceptionally small human female stood staring directly at 9-LOM. Concerning the economic profile of the other guests, they were adequately dressed, however not so outrageously. Nine began to approach the human, pompously as would a well-kept, cape-wearing protocol droid – but of course it was untrue to their programming. Parking themselves before the human, they tilted their view down to compensate for the difference in height.

“Madam,” Nine buzzed in their low, Gand accent, “I am 9-LOM, protocol series mercenary unit – would you privy us the pleasure of your acquaintance?”

The droid held one arm across its mid-section, to indicate a humbled stance.

 

[Faye Malvern]

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Wearing: [xxx]​

[member=Alden Akaran]​

‘Are you excited to see him too, Hera?’ The young silver vulptex bounded down the cobblestone street in response, dainty footsteps the cause of the tinkling that followed in her wake. Since Hera had been gifted to the Minister of Influence on Crait, they had been entirely inseparable. They adored each other in equal amounts, and though Faye had no inkling of why Hera had wanted to stay, she was grateful she had. For the Minister, Hera was a friend without the ties. A friend who never radiated the disgusting taste of dishonesty, or the sour note of distrust. Hera simply was, and the two were as thick as thieves.

Kabal cut quite the fine picture in the warm glow of the sun, it was just perfect for what the day had in store. Faye could already envision herself enjoying the long meandering journey across a river that, for once, wouldn’t be a frozen slush like it was on Nelvaan. The company was more than sublime too. Since their first passing greeting on Shadda-Bi-Boren, Alden and Faye had grown close quickly. In truth, he felt like her first real friend since she’d decided to stay in the Confederacy with her brother. She’d had acquaintances of course, and a single bond that at the time had felt unbreakable, but none of it was like the friendship she had found in Alden. It was unique, and she was grateful for the chance to spend some time with him away from the pretense of a mission or goal in mind. Perhaps afterward they’d go for something to eat, or walk the markets together and take the opportunity to get to know one another a little more.

But as she rounded the corner, coming face to face with the back of her friend, there was something extremely wrong with this picture. Something not right about the man she had grown so accustomed to spending time with. Orbs of charcoal traced over her friends stature, expecting to find nothing out of the ordinary at all, but what they were met with was something altogether different. Something that stole the breath from her lungs. The click clack of her heels slowed to a stop, almost a foot away from the man waiting in earnest by the river.

‘Alden?’ Her tone questioned curiously, as though it didn’t quite believe what her eyes so clearly saw before her. Before he even had a chance to reply, the Minister began shifting through the swirling storm of emotion busy days like this brought on. When she was younger picking out a specific person in a crowd was nigh impossible. They were so often lost to the clamorous cacophony of emotion projected by thousands of souls, but now? Faye could pick out a specific person in an instant, and she could shift through their feelings as easily as she shifted through the paperwork on her desk.

What was she hunting for exactly?

An inkling that this was all a joke perhaps? A bubble of amusement in Alden that would tell her it was all just one big prank? When she could find no hint of inner mirth, she instead hunted for pain. To her great displeasure, it was there. Not the same type of physical pain she would have expected from this type of injury, but something else. ‘What…’ She tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead all she could manage was a gingerly placed step forward, as though she wanted to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, but they instead remained firmly by her side.

Hera, the shimmering silver beast beside her, seemed just as confused. Perhaps not with the lack of appendage on the familiar infront of her, but by the tension between her Master and Mistress. It was so rife even the boy in charge of the gondolas seemed hesitant to intrude. In the end he danced on the edge of their conversation, a dejected look on his face for his interruption. ‘Ma’am? Sir? The next gondola has arrived.’ His childlike tones pulled Faye from her temporary state of distress, enough so that her ebony locks were disturbed by the shake of her head. ‘Of course…’ She responded stiffly. ‘Our apologies for keeping everyone waiting.’

The boat rocked its way down the winding canal to the waiting couple, each wave of water that slapped against its side caused it to rock back and forth rhythmically. Faye said nothing else, but she did offer Alden a short, small smile. Her tense expression wasn’t meant for him, nor had it been created by any action or words he had spoken. When the pain of others overshadowed her own emotion it was hard to distinguish what belonged to her and what didn’t. When the pain emitted from someone she cared for? It was almost impossible. Right now, all of Alden’s pain, confusion and distress were just as much hers as his. If nothing else, she wanted him to know that.

The boat rocked up to the side of the canal, damp wood smacking against the stone wall it rested on. The picture in her mind, the one of the calming ride down a river that reflected the dancing rays of the sun's yellow light, had changed vastly in the past few moments. Yet this didn’t deter the Minister. Even if the start of the day would be punctuated with a surprisingly painful conversation, she was determined to make the most of it. With this notion, her smile widened. ‘After you.’

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

M A N D R A G O R A B O N F I R E​

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L O C A T I O N: S U R R O U N D I N G W O O D S​

T A G S: M A N D R A G O R A A D U L T S O N L Y​

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The Nightsister made her way to the nearest hilltop. The limbs which she drug through the dirt with the Force, now piled high in the center of the clearing. Pom raised her hands and the sacred Spirit of Ichor of her Fanged God began to flow from her fingers and swirl about the entire clearing where she stood.

Pom cried out aloud to the Elementals for their presence upon the hilltop. She would meet them and invite them to celebrate their union. She would cast her magick over the land and bless it with abundance; in return she expects their allegiance, to serve and protect the CIS.

She sent out a magickal calling for all the Mandragora present to receive, 'Come! Let us join together! Become one with the spirits of Kabal!'

The living forces of the planet took interest and obliged her with their presence.

The flames from her hands caught the logs, and any who are inclined to see the Magick as it rose above the bonfire, would recognize the invitation. Those touched would see the green glowing light of the sacred power of the Dathomiri Nightsisters, which only recently has been cultivated off of its planet of origin. This feat, a major breakthrough for the Mandragora Nightsisters, never accomplished before, and not yet offered to just anybody but those entrusted to use its power without malicious intentions. It would be granted only during times of public class studies for now.

The blind would see only fire and smoke rise into the air. The Incantation of the Nightsister would warn disbelievers to steer clear, for they would be uninvited to join in a holy ritual which they do not comprehend.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Objective: Support the fans ( [member="Tempest Yore"] )​

Wearing: Jet Robes​

Wielding: Bass Xantha​

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Small fingers moved up and down the instrument's neck.

Small hands were a blur as the strings were plucked and strummed in a rapid crescendo of notes, as the guitar riff took form and seemed to take off. The stubby head-tails bounced forward and back, as the young Nautolan started head banging in time with the music.

His movements seemed accelerated. Unconscious as the Force moved through him, aiding his form to exhibit precision in performance. To Zak, it seemed as though the opposite were happening. Instead of speeding up, time seemed to slow down.

He shut his eyes.

The crowd disappeared. The world fell away. There was only music. It elevated him on a high that seemed to extend out for infinity. The song only lasted for a few minutes, but in that span of some hundred seconds, Zak felt as though his entire being was expanded.

Shifting his weight, the Nautolan's foot came forward to tap the pedal board there in front of him. Changing his grip on the neck, he brought his hands in close as the vocals subsided and all attention fell on the instrumental bridge that was powered by one kid and his guitar.

Shifting his foot, the boy tapped a different pedal and then took a step back, transitioning from out of the bridge as he resumed the melody of the song and prepared to bring it to a conclusion.

Then it was over.

Holding his guitar pick up over his head, the Nautolan's eyes opened again. It was as if he was seeing Kabal and the audience in front of the stage for the first time. A breathless expression plastered across his face, his skin slick with the sheen of sweat that had formed under the hot stage lights.

Then he gave a smile.

"GOOD NIGHT, KABAL!"

 

[Paragon of Virtue]

The day moved on and sunlight made its way for the moon, and still the Confederates continued happily along their way, enjoying all the views that the Promenade had to offer, floating lazily in their little gondolas, and chatting it up with each other. The pastoral landscape of Shoribus, Kabals's capital, served as the perfect backdrop to many of them, and innocent viewers would never be able to guess that not too long ago, this planet was busy fighting for its very freedom and for the very lives of its people.

And as they celebrated life, droids were sent out to collect the Heart of Philistia. Another piece of Crucible technology in their hands, they would study it, discover how it operated, and what could be done with it. Above all, they would learn how this could have been used against them, and how they could protect themselves and all the planets they had vowed to protect from the damage it could cause. It was only a time before the Confederacy got its way, and they would not remain idle while the threat of the Crucible ever continued to grow.

Later, hours later, as sunset and evening made way to midnight and beyond, slowly the Confederates began to take their leave, boarding their ships to return to whichever corner of Confederate space and beyond that they were stationed on. Kabal was safe, and now that it had joined the Confederacy, it would remain safe as well. The fundraiser had been a success; the involvement of many of the more prominent faces of the government had encouraged many to open their wallets and donate more for the reconstruction.

And only somewhere in space, away from the partying and reveling, in a dark and tucked away corner of the Galaxy, the Crucible held its breath. There were many more plans in the works, all the loose ends coming together. They had lost the battle, but the war was from over.

"Heil Crucible," a voice whispered within the Citadel on Geonosis, too quiet for the surveillance to pick up, just loud enough to please the whisperer before lips curled into a wicked smile.

The story of how Kabal joined the Confederacy of Independent Systems is over, but writers are encouraged to continue writing their personal stories and enjoy the lovely evening ♥​

 

[Kalporra Djacq]

// [member="Quint Salis"] \\​

It was laughable to say Kal formed a bond with the man in the moment she realized just that. So, she didn't. But still, the similar story points intrigued her. Her initial crimes had made her the unintentional founder of a caste uprising, but she had never gotten to know any of her fellow rebels, even superficially. And if she had, she would not have found more than a shred of common struggle, for they might have been protesting criminals, not unhinged serial killers.

She was fully aware that Quint probably wasn't either. And, of course, she arguably deserved the various police beating she received, even when securely in custody.

"How quaint, Quint." With a short laugh, Kal metaphorically waved off the concern. "Thanks - you're a darling - but I don't need a partner in crime." Another attempt at humor, unassuming to most but weighed with very real malicious intent - though not towards him.

Yet. For as long as it took him to realize the same about her she had of him. No longer, no shorter, would she keep up this act. Honesty was, quite literally, for law abiding citizens. Cowards, even.

"Seriously, it's fine now. Chirstophsis' just off my travel docket for a while." Domestic abuse was a bit of a stretch. Defensive wounds from victims more like it, but that was her story and she was sticking to it. Biting her lip to quell the dull pricks, Kal laid her head back on the rest.

 

[Quint Salis]

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w. [member="Kalporra Flynn"]​

​

Quint was not looking to make any kind of "connection" with the woman currently sitting for her ink. She seemed to have misread his intent. The former drug runner simply did not do long term relationships, and friendship, well that was a rare thing indeed. Quint liked to stay on the move, and was not interested in reserving his bed for one person. Where was the fun in a life that kept him from being free to do what he wanted when he wanted. There were few Quint worked with outside of his tattoo parlor, and the not so legal activities always involved people he could trust to not stab him in the back. Most of them had been discovered the hard way, and just because the pair had prison in common did not mean Quint was looking for a companion.

Raport. It was sometimes important when working on someone who had never had ink before or was going to be getting something that could prove to be a lengthy project. Kal wanted something that was going to take him three to four hours at least, and so naturally he had to keep the conversation going as the outline was only now getting finished.

"Partners just slow you down anyway. Besides, I get the feeling your definition of crime and mine are different anyhow. One does not get as many scars in my line of work as what you seem to have, even if they were from prison beatings and an abusive ex."

Did Quint call her out, yes. He knew she was not going to tell him the truth, but he wasn't going to let her think he was that gullible or not that attentive to detail. Just because he was going to stop prying did not mean he had to buy the story.

"There are plenty of other places to visit anyhow. Besides working for the Confederacy is going to keep you away from that place a long time. You go where they tell you, do what they tell you. Should be your own boss like me it sounds like. Traded one prison for another perhaps?"

Quint kept working as he talked. Maybe if he hit the right button he could at least get a night of it. If not, he was still getting business from the woman.