Well was not this the most fancy damn thing Astoach had ever seen, this card, all gilded in gold and shimmering in the dead light of the rising moon. He was late to the party, it seemed, extensively late, and the path he strode, line by the little brushes of thorn and skeletal twigs, nipped at his ankles as he skirted past. In the distance the vague silhouette of Rosedge rose in gleaming limelight, exposed on the horizon, ripe and delicious like a fruit for plucking. Astoach was unfamiliar why a Jedi would invite such a politician to a fancy party, and why these suits were in fashion, especially when they were both tightly fit, or so difficult to wash. The previous owner had generously donated this attire along with his invitation and assured Astoach that the hostess would be unfamiliar with his appearance. "It was out of political interest," he promised. It would be one hell of a post-mortem payback if that was a lie, one that would certainly blindside Astoach as he adorned the guise of the Republican Ambassador, a Welch Tride, a fancy-pansy little aristocrat from Naboo sleeping seven leagues under the sea with a rather prominent block of cement chained to his puffy ankle. In the dress of black suit and tie, with mask removed (a true rarity and trump card), exposing his rather handsome, but unimposing face, he was set to play his game from the perspective of a shadowy bystander.
Then in the midst of his daydream he nearly tripped on upturned stone, catching himself and serving only to boil in murky frustration. Nonetheless, he was here, Rosedge, the tremendous manor in dedication to a single Jedi Knight, and spoke awfully tremendous waves of self-absorption to Astoach. He never was necessarily true in this, as he always thought the worst of people, but as always he bit his tongue and approached the entrance, eying the defined archways and ornate architecture with a intrusive gaze, only be interrupted once again, but this time by lowly security. It was a man, dressed in rather modern attire fit for his career, and he, in turn, eyed Astoach with expectancy. Astoach, unfamiliar with the methods and practices of high society socialites, offered only an equally expectant stare in return. As the silence radiated like a growing bonfire between the pair, Astoach sought to break this deathly stillness, “Do you want a tip or something?”
“No, sir. I request that you hand over all of your weapons.”
Well feth there was the first speedbump in his plan. But luckily he was well stocked with an arsenal of well-fed lies to keep the knife-snatching vultures away, “I don’t have any.”
“Sir, then I must request you give me permission to pat you down.”
Son of a Bantha.
“I refuse.”
“Then I can’t grant you entry, sir”
This is quite the Sithspit.
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious, sir?
“Why the hell do you think I’m asking?”
How did he even get invited to such a fancy party with this kind of demeanor?
“You could hurt someone.”
With few options left, he was forced to express the vastly undesirable Plan C: The Ultimate Solution.
“Force be blessed you caught me, you sly dog you! I’m just keistering a couple hand grenades but thank the almighty you inquired, otherwise I might have forgotten. How about I squat over there and pop them out like a couple chicken eggs for you?”
“Sir, I’m-“
Astoach wiggled his hips slightly, “By the Light, I think I might have shoved a tank up there too. Silly me, I’m always losing things up there.”
“Sir-“
“You want to check up there for my hidden array of capital ships? If you aren’t careful I might unleash my fleet and invade the manor.”
“I-“
“Do your job, sir.”
The guard simply stared with clenched jaw, actually contemplating whether or not to follow suit. His pride seemed to win out over duty, following the almost visible battle of conscious that raged within his cap-covered cranium, and with that the guard slunk back into the shadows, nodding at Astoach with approval for entry. Astoach was satisfied, gently planting both hands on his hips as his heart swelled with the confidence of success, and approached the wide entryway, knocking politely on the surface and awaiting invitation to come inside.
[member="Zak Dymo"] [member="Darth Raijin"] [member="Aria Perugia"] [member="Evan Kenner"] [member="Nefertari Sovint"]
