Public New Year Gala | Kingdom of Naboo

[Clarron Vall]

Though he was reasonably certain the invitation had been sent as the result of a particularly egregious clerical error, Vall had accepted nonetheless. His incredulity was great enough that the only response he'd been able to muster at the time was a sort of jokingly polite refusal that hopefully wouldn't be taken as a serious one. His antique TIE was haphazardly landed alongside a great number of newer vessels in a dizzying variety that he did not recognize.

He had not attended a social function in a long while, not since his body was more meat than metal, and even back then had possessed little patience for them. He was a man of action, not words, and had generally only gone along when dragged along by superior officers, many of whom seemed to enjoy his discomfort. Since his reconstruction, he found the idea of his new form being seen in a formal setting almost too hideous to contemplate. Then he remembered parties habitually served alcohol, and a great deal of it, not to mention the chance of Imperial dignitaries attending. The former would go a great way towards making the night more tolerable, (especially if he could smuggle away some unwanted leftovers), and the latter could be his ticket back into their good graces, when sufficiently inebriated.


"Introducing Major Clarron Vall, of the Imperial 501st Legion!" The prim fellow at the door had announced, only to flinch away at the very sight of him as though a three-headed Rancor had stalked through the entrance. Presumably he'd expected to see a prim, well-groomed officer in traditional Stormtrooper Corps dress blacks. No such luck. Vall could only remove the armor plating by partly-disassembling his limbs, and the skin-tight bodysuit under it was even more of a pain. He only did so to bathe his organic bits, and clean the metallic ones. He had cleansed both extensively before arriving, and hoped that would be sufficient to avoid offending Kalantha . He had more than enough enemies as it was.

Vall flinched himself when he heard the man name his legion. True, he had been a member, but he'd spent as much time under the direct supervision of certain darker projects as in honest military service. He was hardly worthy of the name. The 501st had consisted of men. He was a thing, and the looks he was already getting reminded him all too much of that fact.

Still, he bowed stiffly to the queen, finding the gesture unfamiliar after so long. "Honored to be here." He said shortly, before scuttling off awkwardly to search for something to drink. As he studied some of the other guests, he felt less out of place. For once, he was hardly the most bizarre and outlandish thing in attendance. He lost no time in making his way out into the quieter gardens away from the hustle and bustle, after deftly snagging two drinks from the tray of a passing servant.

 

[Treoff Kellak]

Objectives: 1 & 3 (later)​

Outfit​

'I suppose it's time...' Treoff thought to himself. He hadn't quite revealed himself to the Queens court, fear he wouldn't be exactly good enough to fit in here. Of course they knew he was here, as he showed his invitation at the entrance, yet he had not given his respects to the Queen nor entered enough to be announced. Oh dear, being... 'announced'. Was he truly worthy of suvh a thing?

He slowly made his way to the Queen, only pausing slightly as his attention was stolen by the fair Corazona von Ascania , which he recently received a charity request from. He knew of her little, yet her beauty remained on his mind enough to remember her.

'Treoff, you fool, she's royalty. If you don't have a chance talking to the Queen, you don't have a chance talking to a Princess.' Treoff insulted himself, averting his gaze and absconding himself. He continued towards Kalantha . Once there was a moment, he approached her as respectfully as he could, and gave a strong, bold bow to her, without directly looking at her. He was a Democrat man, against Monarchies, but that didn't mean he couldn't be respectful and well mannered, as his father raised him.

Entering Naboo's Courts, Treoff Kellak. Executive Owner and leader of StarGuard Dynamics, from Coruscant.
Interactions: Open​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Darth Carnifex Jasper Kai'el

Braze, who had come in the company of his Master, Jasper Kai'el , had taken it upon himself to fetch an assortment of snacks and drinks for teh two of them. His typical youthful ambition saw him precariously balancing an array of treats along with pair of drinks, an excited wonder filled look etched on his face. However, as he navigated back to where he had left Jasper, his ambitious endeavor took an unexpected turn.

His foot caught on a stone step, sending him into a half-stumble as he struggled to maintain his precarious balance. In a desperate bid to recover, Braze's foot found a patch of slick material, offering no traction, and he slid forwards, across the polished stone floor in a clumsy dance of misfortune. His momentum carried him directly into the path of Darth Carnifex , the owner of the long cloak he had unwittingly stepped on.

In the collision, the glasses of apple and grape juice he carried jostled violently, their contents spilling forth in a sticky, fruity cascade. The fragrant syrupy juice splashed onto Carnifex's robes and onto Braze himself. He managed to prevent a total faceplant, but not without his nose colliding uncomfortably with the imposing figure he had run into. Stepping back and rubbing his nose with the inner side of his forearm, since his hands were occupied with the remnants of his failed delivery, Braze quickly apologized.

"Oh... I'm sorry," the small, white-haired half-Echani boy stammered, his voice tinged with genuine regret. He had been too engrossed in the captivating sights and sounds around him, and his unintended mishap was an innocent result of a distracted mind amidst the grandeur of the event.

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Naboo
Tags: Treoff Kellak , Braze , BB-610 , Others...

​

Jasper had found himself a glass of wine. Jeez, that was all they had? There was no way he was getting a buzz off of this. The knight scanned the room, looking around to see what other guests were present. Until..

He slowly made his way to the Queen, only pausing slightly as his attention was stolen by the fair Corazona von Ascania , which he recently received a charity request from. He knew of her little, yet her beauty remained on his mind enough to remember her.

And in an instant his older brother instincts had kicked in. Was this dude just here to check out noble women? It hardly mattered. One moment of staring longingly at his sister-in-arms was one moment too long. Jasper would saunter his way over, pausing next to the man as he swirled his wine in a mock-posh manner.

"Yeah, she's here with a date," he informed him, "And ten years younger than you by the look of it. Maybe quit staring around and do something productive."

Jasper wouldn't give him time to respond. He'd simply walk off, content that he had informed whoever that was that someone was indeed watching and judging him. That was good enough for him. From there he found his way to a very familiar astromech. BB-610, sporting his bowtie. A warm smile spread across the knight's face as he crouched down, patting the droid on the head with his mechanical arm before standing back up.

"Nice bowtie, buddy," Jasper complemented. "Looking good-"

In the collision, the glasses of apple and grape juice he carried jostled violently, their contents spilling forth in a sticky, fruity cascade. The fragrant syrupy juice splashed onto Carnifex's robes and onto Braze himself. He managed to prevent a total faceplant, but not without his nose colliding uncomfortably with the imposing figure he had run into.

Time froze. Jasper's head turned, a deadpan look washing over his face. A part of his soul left his body in that moment. Why did it have to be his padawan?

"Well great," Jasper sighed, taking a sip of his wine. "Guess I'll die."

 

[Valery Noble]

Naboo

​

Outfit: Dress | Wedding Ring
Tag: Kahlil Noble

"Well, how do I look?" Valery asked with pleading eyes after a slow, gentle turn around. The dress she was wearing had been picked to be comfortable during her pregnancy, but still offer an appealing look at the same time. Still... it felt a little different showing herself like this, especially at a busy Gala with so many people attending.

Not that she cared that much about the opinions of others, but she did care about his.

Valery then stepped forward and looked him over with a smile. He had always been hot stuff in a suit, but there was something about him tonight that made it even harder to look away. Maybe it was just the hormones, but... she much preferred to give him the credit for her attraction to him.

"May I have your arm?" She then asked with a chuckle and a more playful grin. Once offered, Valery wrapped herself around him, allowing her hands to trail up against his bicep. A happy little sigh followed, and as they walked into the ballroom, a silly yet important question came to mind.

"...do you think they have jelly here?"

 

[Annika Starfire]

​

Location: Naboo
Objective: Objective 2: the gardens
Tags: Ansisa
Gear: in bio

Wearing: this (but with a hat)

Something tickled Annika's nose, a scent, something different to her ever present pheremones or the light fragrance of the gardens. What was that?

"No. Touching."

He answer was quickly forthcoming, whispered into her ear and Annika grinned at the surprisingly friendly tone of the blue skinned teen. "You could have put a knife between my ribs and be gone before the guards even noticed." she grinned at her and stepped back.

A tuft of purple smoke whipped around her fingers mimicking the shape of the flower she had been holding and Annika lifted it up and held it in her palm as she turned, making it look like a gift for the other girl. "But perhaps the fear of missing out on my charming personality stayed your blade?" she blew gently and the flower fell apart back into the mist, swirling around and seeding the air with Annika's pheremone scent.

The Zeltron took a moment to admire the Chiss, she was a little bit irked how good the high slit red dress suited her, she genuinely looked gorgeous in it. Annika had a good pair of legs, or so she thought, but little miss annoyingly blue was something else. "You remind me a little of my sister, she wears similar perfume." she said without irony. "You here with anyone?" she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

​

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Objective I
Attire: xxx
Tags: Treoff Kellak​

"Yeah, she's here with a date. And ten years younger than you by the look of it. Maybe quit staring around and do something productive."

"Rather presumptuous of you, Master Jedi," Sycorax remarked. She had been standing nearby, drinking from a glass and watching the scenery, when she just happened to witness a Jedi walk over and suddenly begin berating a man who had done nothing to deserve it. Sycorax had no love for the Jedi, but this particular one's behavior was rude and uncalled for. "Merely looking at someone is not a crime. Unless you were using your powers to peer into this gentleman's private thoughts?"

Either way, it was distasteful. Not that the Jedi cared, as he left soon after. Sycorax turned toward the man. "Well, I hope you are enjoying your evening." She extended her hand. "Sycorax Laveaux, Senator of Necropolis."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Take heart, young one. You see how they shiver with indignation, impotent to raise a hand against their despised Skanah Aru'e." The Dark Lord would have laughed if it would have not been impolite to do so, for despite His cruel and vicious demeanor He still observed the etiquette of the nobility He shrouded Himself in. His eyes indeed sought those of the Mandalorians in attendance, a dark glare that caused many to shirk away in discomfort; for few could hold such a withering gaze without bending.

Or breaking.

But, then His eyes caught sight of another. His expression softened ever so slightly, and His smile took on a genuine quality. It was Danger Arceneau, His long-time ally and acquaintance; dare He say friend. She looked as radiant and ravishing as ever, His eyes catching an ample sample of her matured and graceful form; like a delicious vintage of fine, aged whiskey. Their eyes met, and a knowing look passed between them. He would definitely have to seek her out, so that they could reacquaint after so many long years. Her husband had not long ago passed, and while He had dispatched His condolences, He'd yet to meet her face-to-face to offer them Himself.

More Jedi were beginning to filter in, the desperate plea by the Alliance to worm their way into Naboo's good graces. The Dark Lord did not care whether or not Naboo caved to the Alliance or to the Mandalorians, or even to the Sith Order for that matter. The politics of the galaxy were an old game, one He'd played masterfully, and now He'd grown beyond it. Truthfully, He only came because He knew just what kind of message it would send to those who opposed Him. All their righteous declarations could do little against the formality of a gala, themselves forced to play by the rules of another.

A commotion stirred behind Him, and the flailing body of a small child cross His vision. They had invariable lost their balance while carrying a tray of beverages and snack foods, and subsequently sent the entire array spewing forth in their descent. Some of that food and drink had wound itself onto the Dark Lord's exquisite vestments, a dark stain growing where the syrupy liquid had hit it's mark. Bits of food had also gotten lodged against the clothing, a total disaster.

But the Dark Lord merely looked down at the small child, although perhaps they were older than that now that He was looking at them directly. His smile grew vicious as they hopped up to apologize for their accident, clearly not realizing they stood before the lion. But, instead of chastising the boy, the Dark Lord merely purred a single sentence. "It is of no consequence, young Jedi. Your master should keep a better watch over his wayward charges." Carnifex twitched a finger, and the food which had spilled out onto Him began to lift away from His clothes. Likewise, the liquid that had seeped into the fabric separated itself from it, all unwanted moisture lifting away as small bubbles of drink until the clothing was completely dry.

The food and drink reoriented itself as the cups, those of which were not broken, and the tray lifted again into the air. All of the spilled contents were returned to their rightful place, the tray sitting down at the boy's side more or less back in it's original composition. The Dark Lord held the boy's gaze for a moment longer before it drifted away to settle on the boy's master, one who was intimately familiar with the Dark Lord. The smile broadened ever slightly.

"Tell your master that enlightenment comes to all who seek it, they need but only bare their soul."

Lina Djo | Teresa Pelles | Darth Pellax | Darth Xyrah
Lucia Naberrie | Braze | Jasper Kai'el
Danger Arceneau ​

 

[Treoff Kellak]

Objectives: 1 & 3 (later)
Jasper Kai'el | Sycorax Laveaux​

Outfit​

"Yeah, she's here with a date," ... "And ten years younger than you by the look of it. Maybe quit staring around and do something productive."​

Just a milisecond after showing his respects to the Queen, he was approached by a young man in a... very distasteful manner. In front of the Queen, no less... he took it upon himself to step away from the Queen before having further thoughts or words, just when someone spoke up on his behalf.

"Rather presumptuous of you, Master Jedi," ... "Merely looking at someone is not a crime. Unless you were using your powers to peer into this gentleman's private thoughts?"​

Treoff's look of shock and cringe left, as he sealed his lips, curling into a lighthearted smile to the woman.

"Well, I hope you are enjoying your evening." ... "Sycorax Laveaux, Senator of Necropolis."​

Without thinking twice, he graciously took the Senators hand and gently pulled it towards himself, kissing it. He was not part of this class, but he understood it well. His father had been an audience to the weak, the poor, the rich, and the famous. "It is an honor to meet a true blue Senator, I am honored you came to my rescue, miss Laveaux. He released the hand just as softly as he had taken it, "however, I will not lie. I was admiring the womans beauty. She recently requested aid for the destruction of her world, and I squeezed what I could out of my meager pocket to support her, as it was the right thing to do." His voice seemed absolutely more graceful, flowing off the tongue, than his regular voice normally gave off. With strangers, he had naturally trained himself to be more courteous and speak more clearly, as his ordinary voice was rough, blunt, and brutish. "My genuine thoughts were that if my low class could not speak to a Queen, what chance have I to speak to a princess? Ah!" His hand raised to his chest, palm laying on it, "my deepest apologies, please forgive me," he bowed his head quickly, "Treoff Kellak, owner of StarGuard Dynamics. Some have come to call me an Executive Officer, others... leader, though I'm not sure what to honestly call me, being leader of a pseudo-company slash mercenary company. I hail from Coruscant, born and raised." The Senator could see a cue on his face, as mentioning 'born and raised' gave him a somewhat sorrowful expression, before he came back to modernity, smiling. "This sort of.... shindigs... are new to me, I've never actually been to one, so please forgive me if I seem out of place - I, in fact, am!" His thoughts had completely forgotten about the young, arrogant child who made a mockery of himself in front of the Queen.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

In Your Heart Shall Burn
Look | Sound​

A pair of delicate gloves fingertips subtly adjusted the laurel-shaped, diamond-encrusted tiara so that it sat just so on dark chestnut locks. Natasi Fortan wore a dress of dark grey shimmersilk, with an intricately beaded sheath cover and a decidedly Galidraani -- and likely out-of-date in the rest of the galaxy -- drop waist, accentuated with a black satin sash. She wore limited jewelry, other than the tiara: the bracelet Dyrn had given her and a pair of simple, platinum earrings with diamonds. The diamonds on her earrings and tiara were not large, but what they lacked in size they made up for in history. The tiara had been in her family for hundreds of years, since the Fortans of Herevan Hold had been ennobled. It had been a gift to Natasi's great-great-great-great-great-great (etc.) grandfather from the King of Galidraan himself, in recognition of their new position entitling the women in their clan to wear such a fine and significant piece of jewelry.

That had been at the beginning of the Plague Years, some centuries ago. It had been broken and repaired, sullied and polished, countless times over the years. A consequence of being so delicate, Natasi thought as she studied herself in the small mirror to adjust the tiara once more, and so old. Not unlike yourself, she chided herself before stepping away from the mirror. One hand went to her opposite arm, tugging the opera-length glove more securely into place.

She didn't know why she was nervous; Natasi had been to hundreds of galas, had thrown dozens herself. Perhaps it was that Dyrn wasn't nearby. His solid presence always reassured her, but he was otherwise engaged at the moment, and so she was there to face the music alone -- so to speak. And so it was that she approached the hall and flinched at the announcement, which sounded pompous, even to herself:

"Her Imperial Majesty the Supreme Leader Natasi Fortan of the Renascent Republic and the First Imperial Crown-in-Exile, Honorable Senator of Aegis," the announcer boomed as Natasi descended into the hall. She was raised right, and so she knew her first duty was to pay her respects to the Queen and their hostess. She approached just as a pretty redhead had finished her own obeisance before the throne. Natasi politely waited her turn and, when Jenn Kryze had departed, the Supreme Leader offered a deferential bob of her head. It wasn't quite a bow -- which would have been highly inappropriate as one monarch to another -- but it was deferential, even friendly.

"Your Majesty," Natasi said upon straightening. "You honor me with your invitation, thank you. Allow me, please, to pass the good wishes of the Galactic Alliance Senate for the good health and prosperity of yourself and the people of Naboo in this new year." She again half-bowed deferentially before smoothly moving to the side, in the wake of the redhead from before. What an interesting dress, Natasi mused. She was drying to see it from the front, so she made a wider loop, shifting through the crowd to the opposite side of the dance floor. She hoped that she wouldn't be spotted studying the dress from the safety of the second row of observers, although...

Natasi Fortan's rather distinct dark eyes could be difficult to miss. And admiration could be so easy to confuse with scrutiny.

Kalantha | Jenn Kryze​

 

[Clarron Vall]

Objective 2
Open to Interaction​

The Terror Trooper made his way outside with the sort of ghostly stealthiness he normally reserved for infiltrating secure facilities. Finding a suitable bench outside, Vall could barely contain a sigh of relief. He was afraid of very little; there wasn't a great deal to threaten him with that hadn't already happened at one point or another in his "illustrious" career. One thing that came close was things like this, and he was grateful his hosts had the blessed foresight to provide this area for those of a less photogenic sort.

As he sat there, going through his two glasses of some unidentified beverage, he frowned, tilting his head, and stood. Vall was an appreciator of gardening and the botanical arts in general; he found it pleasing, and fitting, that life could be sculpted and shaped into forms more appealing to the eye or palate. Order carved out of the chaos innate to living things, with nothing more than patience and hedge-trimmers. The scant free space inside his vessel bore several small planters filled with flowers and the like, taken from numerous different worlds. Once a farmer, always a farmer, he thought. He extended two fingers, and snipped off an errant branch or two from a bush trimmed to look like some sort of exotic alien animal.

He stood back to admire his handiwork. Much better. Maybe this night would go well after all. Not being escorted off-premises on sight by the palace guards was a strong start, he had to admit. The drinks, while not quite potent enough to affect him, were a pleasant bonus, and the scenery wrapped it all up nicely. If he weren't quite sure he were already pushing his luck being here at all, he had half a mind to track down the queen after the event and ask where she sourced her plant life from.

He sat back, somewhat more relaxed now, sipping occasionally from the drink via a segmented probiscidian straw that emerged from his metal faceplate. Days of tension and muscle cramps caused by long hours in the pilot's chair of his vessel melted away like butter. The Dolorous Tidings had many virtues as a vessel, but comfort could not be counted among them.

Occasionally, he risked a sortie inside to liberate more drinks from their bearers. He was beginning to think either the wine was diluted so as to avoid guests overindulging, or that it simply didn't affect his physiology much anymore. Five more glasses were down before he knew it. Hearing a crash from inside, he elected to slow down for a while. As like as not, some foppish young bureaucrat had somehow managed to become intoxicated. This early in the evening, too. The thought prompted the corners of his cracked, scarred lips to curl upwards under the mask that hid them.

None of his concern. He returned his gaze to the elaborately-trimmed hedgework, sipping his last drink more slowly. He could get used to Naboo, he decided. Too much so. He had a duty to perform, one he had so far made negligible progress towards. But... what harm was a little R&R? He'd been playing the good soldier for days. Hell, his whole life before that. One night couldn't hurt too much.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Objective I & III

Judah adjusted his cufflinks, shuffling along in the line to be announced in the grand hall. It had been a long, long time since he had last done such a Gala, one so formal anyhow. Dressed in a basic black tuxedo, it seemed he blended in with the other males of his species, a clear go-to for the evening.

Judging by how long the line was, it seemed half of the ‘verse had arrived. Jedi. Sith. Corporate types. Mouth quirked in amusement as he thought about all in attendance. No doubt there would be some type of fireworks tonight in some form or fashion. He would have no part of it ; plans of smoking a cigarra in the garden and talking shop as always were high on the list.

Reaching the front, the steward nodded to him as he entered.

Mister Judah Dashiell, Owner of Salacia Consolidated.

Music gently played as being swirled around the dance floor or greeted one another. The Queen of Naboo was overseeing the main event, entertaining a small audience at the moment. It was quite the contrast to his more recent charity and corporate events, there was definitely less of an air of business and more of that of being seen and wanting to be seen.

Moving to the left, Judah moved along the edges of the event, wondering if he could spot anyone he knew. Life had a been a little upside down for him, as such he hadn’t the chance to reach out to his usual contacts to see if they would be in attendance.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Dress​

Training and preparedness, she realized, were attributes warriors shared with socialites: evidently, the latter were navigating the gala with a certain ease she clearly did not possess. Focusing on her breathing helped, to be sure, but it had the unfortunate side-effect of making her gills a little more apparent. As if she needed more self-consciousness over her body inside of a room crowded with the Galaxy's finest.

It'll be fine. Nobody here cares about you. Too busy dealing with the embodiment of darkness and evil slithering his putrid form along the ground.

Not that she let her gaze linger on the delegation of Sith for much longer. They were accursed wretches, to be sure, but she was set on taking a page from all others in attendance and pointedly ignoring them - and, in so doing, she spared herself the dark gaze of a being who held only pure malice for her and all others calling themselves Mandalorians. No, instead, she allowed her gaze to wander, taking in the beauty surrounding her, the pomp of it all... and, to her surprise, she relished in it. Now, more than ever, she found herself understanding just why people sought attendance to these extravagant events! What was an opportunity to slip off the mantle of Alor for her was perhaps shared by others here, who sought only to enjoy a night of extravagance, and she found the notion of dismissing it all a little more foreign to her for it.

With no weaponry nor armor to fall back onto, not even the most humble of boot-knives, there was no other option but for her to lean back and enjoy herself. A simple thought, but one that brought a tender smile to her lips.

"Her Imperial Majesty the Supreme Leader Natasi Fortan of the Renascent Republic and the First Imperial Crown-in-Exile, Honorable Senator of Aegis."

Jenn's eyes practically bulged out, and if she had made the mistake of taking a flute of champagne in hand earlier, she doubtlessly would have crushed it in her grasp. All of the control she had somewhat managed to wrestle back from the sudden rush of agoraphobia? Gone, like smoke in the wind. And yet, she could not quite put her feelings into words as her eyes came to rest upon the elegant figure of the woman she had brutally beaten during the boarding of the Ans Corvo, a few months back. The memory was a difficult one for her to process, and now that she found herself looking upon her victim, guilt twisted away at her conscience.

So much so, in fact, that she found herself averting her gaze. Admiring the majesty of the Senator she had unlawfully kidnapped was a moral failing on her part, and she was not so blind as not to recognize that. And yet... she could not contain a certain sense of awe from enveloping her thoughts soon after, shooing away the guilt and the self-consciousness. The way she carried herself spoke of a certain grace she could never attain for herself, an aura of majesty she had about her - something noticed beforehand, but masked by the clear spite she held for her.

Not for the Mandalorian Enclave, although there was certainly resentment there as well, but for her in particular. Somehow, the thought did little to stop her train of thought. And when she found herself looking for her among the crowd once more, the world around her grew a little less... important. Were she in her right mind, the Mandalorian might liken it to a hunter's sense focusing on their prey, watching for any movement that might tip them off to an attack...

But when the Alor's gaze met the monarch's own, she realized that the royal did not recognize her. After all, she knew those eyes well by now, and yet... she had never seen them so devoid of the cold distaste Natasi clearly held for her.

And they were captivating.

A polite smile pulled at her lips, and a nod of acknowledgement.

​

Kalantha Natasi Fortan ​

 

[Sycorax Laveaux]

Objective I
Attire: xxx
Tags: Treoff Kellak​

She had been expecting a handshake. The kiss was a little strange, given that she was wearing gloves, but the gesture was not unwelcome.

"However, I will not lie. I was admiring the woman's beauty. She recently requested aid for the destruction of her world, and I squeezed what I could out of my meager pocket to support her, as it was the right thing to do."

“The Von Ascania Family Fund, yes?” Sycorax nodded. “I’ve been involved with humanitarian efforts on Ukatis myself, though I’ve tried to help via Alliance law rather than my pocketbook.”

Her first impression of Treoff Kellak was that he was a little overly apologetic and polite, as one who has been subjected to an attempt at public humiliation might be. But as he continued to speak she began to wonder if there was perhaps an artificiality to the way he spoke. There was something fake and put-on about his mannerisms, like he wanted to appear a certain way. Well, she reminded herself, we are at a party where both Jedi and Sith are expected to mingle without killing each other. Maybe he's a Sith Lord and is trying to hide it.

“Most of the people here don’t know how to behave without making fools of themselves,” she said. “But tell me more about StarGuard. You said yours was a pseudo-company—what did you mean by that?”

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn almost didn’t make it. Her mother, at the very last minute, attempted to wrangle her to be present for a charity ball the Commonwealth was putting on for the Veterans of the First Imperial Military. While it was certainly a cause she could get behind, she was already well on her way to Naboo. She had plans, a date, with Rik Perris and plans she had made at least two a month ago by galactic standard time. She adjust her gown, and took a deep breath, and exhaled as her yacht made its way through the Nabooian system.

Her mind raced with what could be, what would be, the potential and possibilities for the evening were endless. She put aside the fact that this was nearly railroaded by her mother, and did her best to remember that this night was for her. Ivalyn’s focus was on the night she met Rik, the way his arms felt around her, the way he looked at her. Even if he had been wearing Alliance blue. Ivalyn hadn’t even told her father about him yet, although she suspected that daddy dearest already knew. Likely, frowned at the thought of his eldest consorting with a member of the ‘corrupt’ Galactic Alliance.

The Dosuunian-born Galidraani woman fiddled with her jewelry, heirloom fleur-de-lis earrings passed onto her by her mother, given to her grandmother upon her niece’s death. They had been refitted over the years, with beautiful Dosuunian diamonds. Clearing her throat, she nervously ran her hands through her clutch, which to be quite honest was doing nothing for her. Sure, it matched her gown, a beautiful dress of black and gold. The Commonwealth’s own colors, in fact, Vhondryl Gaellar the High Commissioner of the Commonwealth had contacted her moments ago.

She was to be the Commonwealth’s sole representative at the Gala. Vhondryl was otherwise tied, a meeting on Varada V. Her Majesty Kelora Priestly was unable to attend due to the impending birth of her daughter, the Crown Princess Ayodele Priestly. Such as it was, Ivalyn was feeling what her mother called ‘the pull’ or her father would just say, ‘call’ to duty, to service. One she’d been running away from for years, decades at this point.

Her yacht, pressed through the Nabooian clouds and the beautiful, serene landscape of the planet could be seen from her viewport. Ivalyn could feel her heart beat faster and faster, she had to put herself together. This was just another gala, just another sea of faceless many of whom she didn’t know. The only face she would be seeing, that she’d want to see, was the one that held her close to him as they danced. The only man worth seeing, Rik Perris.

After a while, she found herself walking toward the vestibule. She was among the people to be announced. Someone, who she assumed to be among the Nabooian nobility, or perhaps guard, an escort. Balance help her, Ivalyn’s thoughts raced, she knew the station in which the person was. It escaped her, the protocols, it was all suddenly flying right out of a proverbial window. She needed to run for a window, what in the bloody hells was she doing here. She heard the names as they were being called, the most recent being Judah Dashiell. Then, she was tugged forward and announced.

​

Lady Ivalyn Yvarro, Representative of the Dosuunian Commonwealth of Nations, and Primo Victorian Enterprises, Heir to House Yvarro.​

​

Years of dealing with noble houses, the Commonwealth’s Court and various aristocracies on Dosuun prompted her. “Your Majesty,” she addressed the Queen, “it is an honor and a privilege to have been invited. On behalf of the Dosuunian Commonwealth, Primo Victorian Enterprises and House Yvarro. I wish you, and the people of Naboo, a wonderful, healthy, and prosperous new year.”

With that, she stepped off to the side and placed a hand over her chest. Right, she was still there, her heart was still beating and now she needed two things. Rik, and a drink, but until the former arrived, the latter was going to have to do.

Rik Perris | Kalantha | Open to Interaction | Kurayami Bloodborn ​

 

[Lucia Naberrie]

Location: Theed Royal Palace - Naboo
Objective: In Your Heart Shall Burn
Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Attire: Dress
Tag: Darth Carnifex Teresa Pelles | Darth Pellax Darth Xyrah Braze Lina Djo │ Open for Interaction!

The Naberrie surname that her master had bestowed upon her was a heavy one. In that regard, Lucia had never felt its weight on her shoulders more than she did now. In this context especially, she wasn’t just a droid or a servant, but rather, a member of a somewhat prominent Nabooian family. Accordingly, it was her duty to represent the family and to ensure that she did not disgrace them in the process. Such a task was far different from the ones that she normally received. Nevertheless, the gynoid was not entirely unfamiliar with events of this nature. Such familiarity gave her a small comfort as she entered the ball with Darth Carnifex and made the proper salutations, acknowledgements, and respects, before accepting the steward’s announcement of her arrival with an inhuman, programmed grace.

"Entering Naboo's Courts, Lucia Naberrie, scion and servant of House Naberrie.”​

Moments later, Lucia found herself in the midst of the ballroom, her synthetic senses taking in the dances and royal exchanges transpiring around her. Nevertheless, it was impossible for her to miss the scene that played out when a young Jedi collided with the towering form of the Dark Lord, spilling the contents of the treats and drinks which had been balanced on his arms moments prior. The gynoid would have thought that the Force might have offered him more grace and awareness, but it was all too obvious that such gifts had been denied to him.

Fortunately, such a weakness was not impossible to rectify by any means. Lucia manifested an internal smile when the Sith’ari implicitly offered the young Jedi the opportunity to do so, even if she was under no delusions that he would accept the all too gracious proposal.

At that realization, Lucia gave a facsimile of a regretful sigh, before shifting her attention elsewhere.

 

[Treoff Kellak]

Objectives: 1 & 3 (later)
Sycorax Laveaux​

Outfit​

“The Von Ascania Family Fund, yes?” ... “I’ve been involved with humanitarian efforts on Ukatis myself, though I’ve tried to help via Alliance law rather than my pocketbook."​

"Yes, well, I don't exactly have a government at my beck and call... and if you have any aid bill passed, I would probably be paying for it out of taxes." He grinned, making a passive joke. "I've been using what money I've personally made for, well, all of this," he made a gesture emphasizing his whole self, "including my company."

"Most of the people here don’t know how to behave without making fools of themselves,” ... "But tell me more about StarGuard. You said yours was a pseudo-company—what did you mean by that?"​

Treoff nodded, understanding he dropped a little extra on the senator without any context... "Ah, yes... StarGuard Dynamics... It's a mix of ... a few things. It started as a family construction company, headed by my father. After he passed away, I inherited it. I used his contacts and knowledge to expand it. It still does a little bit of construction, here and there, but I've made it more of a private security... I say mercenary company because it's easier to comprehend. I'm a little involved in military business, and due to my fathers way of raising me, I fight for what is right." He takes a breath, giving the senator a minute to absorb everything, "I'm more akin to being in laborer clothing, or military fatigues than... a suit, haha. We act more as a family, than a boss and employees. That's how my fathers company operated. As do I."

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Entering Naboo's Courts, representing the Sith Empire, Darth Malum, of House Marr, King of Alvaria."

Malum's steps paused for a moment, before he continued onward, only the keen-eyed observer would have noticed the abrupt motion at all, all the while Malum himself resisted the blood that would no doubt have filled his cheeks at that sort of introduction. His hands were permanently gripped around his amulet, an all too necessary precaution to have the calming mists flow freely in his mind when there were so many in this room alone that could set the Queen of Snakes off.

He very much did not want a repeat of the masquerade ball on Korriban, and though he made a chalice agreement with the entity, he would be a fool to entirely trust her, or to truly trust her at all really.

His mind ran back to the introduction, it was so open, so public, it was so against what the Tsis'Kaar represented.

Yet, it paradoxically was everything he represented.

Everything he wanted in some sense of the word, his mission from when he had begun life, to return the House of Marr to its rightful prominence, and who could deny that it had been accomplished? He was here, in the realms of galactic high society, representing the Sith Empire on the galactic stage, with his House, his title, recognised by all.

Yet, how quickly had that old objective been driven to the wayside, it had all changed on Fiviune, hadn't it? When it all became far too complicated, far too difficult when every rise in prominence only promised more threats and danger for his and his own, when his naivety was told to die for good, or otherwise they would lose everything. Every part of that introduction was calculated, was designed and articulated, for him to take the best step forward.

To represent the Sith Empire was to ward off threats from within and without.

His name and House were to signal to allies of the Sith Creed, and those outside of it.

And the title, pride doth the fall, the actual title would get him killed if his Emperor ever learned of it, a compromise then, a lie, one as transparent as when his men called him 'Imperator'. A motion to speak the truth, without revealing it entirely. Things were moving far quicker than he would have liked, already they were being summoned to the Stygian Caldera as the Emperor's will demanded for the next campaign against the Alliance.

Gazing about to the Sith and Jedi assembled here, he could only wonder how many would be dead in the coming months.

It was pointed that he bypassed Kaine's party, and bypassed the Queen too, he could play roles easily enough, cornered wallflower, or centre of attention, but neither would win him what he wanted today. What he wanted...

...Simply the desire to enjoy serenity among allies and enemies alike, to see how long the experiment he had long since pondered in his mind, of brothers who were separated by millennia would interact if they were disallowed to draw their blades. He could not imagine it would be long.

Yet he hoped differently still anyway.

Drifting to observe, he suddenly stopped.

A familiar voice.

One that was enough to make him break out into the first genuine smile of the evening. Spinning about, he could not help the gasp that escaped his lungs, she was as beautiful, as she was dangerous.

She was as enrapturing as she was a risk.

She who had captured his heart, and she who he would have given up so much for.

For what was worth the game he played, if he could not have her by his side?

"You're ravishing," Words spilt out of his mouth before he was able to consider them, a far too common occurrence with her, something which he had not been able to stop even after the months after their initial meeting on Archais, and all the ills that had come after, "I- um-," And there was the stillness, he who had been trained to be composed his entire life, unable to string two words together as red eyes met red, as they witnessed golden locks spun by the gods themselves, spill past a hat that only led down to a dress that promised much more. With diamonds at her ears and neck, that accentuated and contrasted every shape and colour that she was.

"You seem to have taken my breath away, Elise Ahana-Gwyneira ," She could do far more than just that to him, it would no doubt be a problem.

A problem for another day.

The experiment could be done later, his games and schemes another day. His hand found its way to her gloved counterpart, a dusting of pink finding itself on his features, "I believe then, you owe me a dance, for a paradise for me this might be, but I promise a dance on Naboo to be just as dangerous as a hunt on Archais," Somehow she did not feel out of place here, so different from the wilds he had initially met her, so different from the armour she had opposed him with, she was no noble, but she seemed every bit the noble lady.

It was unfair to a degree how she could do it all so well.

But that was his Elise.

Still, as red eyes cautiously tracked the room, he could not help but feel worry trail his brow, a Sith and a Mandalorian, it was a dangerous play. They would talk. His hand left the amulet, as his sense of ease passed for another, so let them. He had already given up far too much of his life for their judgements and schemes.

He wished to be happy, and if his prominence and power did not allow for that, what was the point?

​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Darth Carnifex

Braze fumbled through his belongings, eventually producing a small, neatly folded handkerchief, prepared to offer it as a means to clean up the accidental mess he had made. Unaware of who or what Darth Carnifex 's true identity was, he hesitated for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he listened to the dark figure's words. His somber green eyes, partially obscured by snowy bangs, widened in a mix of enchantment and slight revulsion as he witnessed the cupcake frosting and sprinkles magically reconstitute themselves on the plate.

"It is of no consequence, young Jedi. Your master should keep a better watch over his wayward charges."

A range of expressions played across Braze's face, reflecting his inner turmoil between admiration for such precise Force control and a sense of unease about its implications. Without much forethought, a trait typical of the young Padawan, Braze voiced the first thought that came to his mind.
"That's certainly an interesting opinion," he began, still holding the handkerchief aloft. "I've recently developed an opinion myself. I think some folks should wear shorter cloaks," he shrugged casually.

"But I suppose sacrifices must be made in the name of fashion. Good thing you know such neat tricks; I bet you never really have to be inconvenienced with bath time with how fancy a Force user you are." His words, though mildly teasing, carried a hint of genuine praise.


"Oh, I'm Braze. Sorry for the awkward first meeting," he added, slipping the handkerchief back into his pocket and readjusting his tray of treats. "Thank you for the neat show and saving my snacks."

"Tell your master that enlightenment comes to all who seek it, they need but only bare their soul."

"Okay; I don't think world views of religion and politics aren't typically polite talk, especially at parties... but I'll be happy to pass your message along, mister," Braze chirped, his tone candid and relaxed, as if he were simply enjoying a party conversation with one of his peers.

The final comment from the mysterious figure piqued Braze's curiosity, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Who should I tell them the message is from?" he inquired, eager to learn more about the tall stranger before him.

 

[Sarlow Zambrano]

Sarlow had no intention of going to the Gala, whatsoever. He quite adamantly had told his family no, but there he was. The Epicanthix scanned the crowd looking for Lina. Noting that perhaps this was why his mother had chosen not to attend. Sarlow understood that his mother wanted him to spend more time with Lina. He could see it now, and for that, he was... grateful. Expressing his feelings hadn't been his strong suit lately, but perhaps he could do so at the Gala.

Arriving quietly, aside from Darth Carnifex and the entourage that accompanied him, Sarlow found himself announced next, sporting a smirk on his features.

"Prince Sarlow Kaine Zambrano, Son of Kaine Zambrano."

The Prince gave a respectful bow to the Nabooian Queen and moved off to find his father and entourage, with a more important goal of finding Lina. Maneuvering through the crowd of people he neither cared to see nor know, the Wolf of Panatha set his sights on the one woman for whom he would go to the ends of the Galaxy and set the Galaxy ablaze if any harm befell her.

As magnificent as the Nabooian Palace was, Sarlow found it irritating with the multitude of people present. Spotting his father near a few Jedi, Braze whom he considered an obstruction, Sarlow gently excused himself through the crowd until he reached Lina.

"Lina," he called to the green-eyed beauty, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "While I certainly understand her importance to you, Father, I have some unfinished business with her," he asserted. With a hand pushing back stray tresses of hair, he continued, "If I may," extending his hand to Lina, "speak with you in private."

Lina Djo | Darth Carnifex ​