Public Splendor and Spite

[Aurellia]

SPLENDOR - AND - SPITE
Ta'a Chume'Dan, Hapes

​

Lavish opulence dripped from the Hall of Masters within the newly reconstructed Fountain Palace. Crystal garland hung from the ceiling, catching the warm light that fell over the patrons. No expense had been spared as the Consortium put its best foot forward. Tables upon tables were filled with the galaxy’s most important, seated right next to Hape’s Syndicate allies and the Ember of Vahl’s dark-aligned comrades. Amongst their number were members of the Hapan Royal Guard, both uniformed and otherwise, ready to intervene where necessary. Whether terrorist or otherwise, there would surely be some measure of violence tonight. Without, a Hapan wedding would be considered a dull affair.

Double open bars lined either side of the room. The droids behind their counter were having difficulty keeping up with the thirst of the crowds. Those already overindulged had taken to the dance floor to showcase moves that looked far less competent than they did in thought. At the end of the hall, a grand set of double doors opened up to the courtyard below. Revelry could be heard from the streets further still. From the dais, Aurelia rose from her seat beside Gerra, accepting a microphone offered by an aide. The noise of celebration softened as the Queen Mother began to speak.

“Honored guests, I am delighted to welcome you into my home this evening. Your loyal presence is perhaps the best gift of all. Our halls are brighter for your company, this new union stronger for your witness. These past years, our planet has known violence and loss, time and time again. Even this marriage was born from our blood. Yet perhaps it is that very history that promises our future shall never grow dull.” The bride turned sidelong to offer Hasuras Na-Gerra an insolent grin. “Hapes shall be protected by our combined strength, our vows ushering in a new season of peace for our people. So, my friends, dance, drink, and fill your bellies before your travels home - and let this night be remembered as the dawn of a new age.”

An ivory train dragged behind the queen as she turned away, trading the microphone for a champagne flute. Servants flitted about the gift table to the side, but Aurellia ignored their murmurs and looked at her new partner. It would soon be time for them to mingle with the masses.

“To us, my dear.” Venom ran beneath cheery sweetness.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Enswaddling the public wedding like the finest of wrapping paper on a wedding gift, an anonymous benefactor is pleased to present...

Weekend Treasure Hunt 36: Cowboy Take Me Away​

• Each point is worth 2d6 x 1000 UC (roll it yourself).
  • You also keep what you have stolen.
• Not every post must score a point, but don't claim more than one point per post.
  • For greater certainty, each post is worth zero points or one point.
• Most points wins a black crown.
• Each individual killed or maimed is worth -1 points.
• Additional points for audacious and interesting stunts. Please take all of these as invitations to say 'yes, and.'

ACHIEVABLE POINTS
Each point can be secured by multiple people but cannot be secured repeatedly by the same person.

1. You procure rare books from the palace library. (+1 point if you read a love poem aloud.)
2. You procure the allegiance of a guard or group of guards. (+1 point if you kiss a guard or group of guards.)
3. You procure one ton of assorted fancy items, or one intact romantic gazebo or gondola.
4. You acquire a noble title.
5. A bridesmaid, groomsman, or equivalent willingly provides you with their contact information for purposes of romantic liaison. (+1 point if you recruit them willingly to a criminal organization. +1 point if you commence a passionate love affair, get engaged, etc.)
6. You navigate acrobatically through crypts, caves, cellars, or hollow walls to secure a treasure or glimpse a secret.
7. You crack open a strongbox or safe and take the contents. (+1 point if you leave something scandalous and imaginative behind. Imaginative is defined as 'not fecal.')
8. You procure one of the palace vehicles, be that land or sky, or a riding animal, all in good health or repair. (+1 point if you ride off into the sunset with a romantic partner.)
9. You procure a wedding gift.
10. You objectively upstage the bride in terms of fashionable grandeur.
11. You procure a Gun of Command. (+1 point if you shoot yourself with it efficaciously.)
12. You procure one of the various royal wine cellars. (+1 point if you drink it with company.)
13. You procure jewelry set with a rainbow gem of Gallinore. (+1 point if you give it to someone else.)
14. You procure a chandelier, noble bed, or throne, intact and undefiled within reason.

---

Jerec sat innocently in the guest seating and poured champagne into the side of his neck.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“To us, my dear.” Venom ran beneath cheery sweetness

“Hmph.” Gerra eyed his glass of wine. “Indeed.”

The sullen man sat sprawled in a great chair fashioned from some local oak. Clad in crimson and gold finery, he sported an immense chain of electrum about his neck.

He knew his role here well enough: the brute brought to heel, but still barbaric enough to pose a threat to any who questioned the new Queen’s rule. Bah.

How strange, to sit in these halls where not so long ago he had strode, blade in hand, a defiler. Now he must listen to the sesquipedalian words of sycophants come to pay homage to the new Queen.

Eyes, intense as embers, surveyed the milling crowd. Perhaps a fight would break out and save him from this boredom. Not that the conflict would last long, with his and her leal lords poised within the nebula for ambush at the hint of trouble.

It would not do to build a third fountain palace in the span of a year.

But, like as not, he would be restricted to these chambers to watch the nobles dance and toy with each other with their pricking words. No. Not merely to watch. She would demand his presence, to move from group to group as leashed hound.

Gerra snorted, then quaffed the glass of wine greedily. Let it be poisoned.

Aurellia

 

[Drystan Creed]

HAPES

"Hold it there, buddy."

Drystan, for some reason, stood at the foot of the dais where the newlyweds sat, one arm outstretched, palm open, halting an approaching figure. By the looks of it, the man was a diplomat—one of many offering their congratulations to the Queen and King—and he looked visibly confused as to why this tuxedo-clad stranger in black, with matching bowtie and sunglasses, had stopped him.

Those shades hid Drystan's eyes as he proceeded with some strange form of screening.

For several long, awkward moments, Drystan held his pose. Despite his eyes being obscured, it was clear he was scanning the diplomat given the slow, deliberate up-and-down tilt of his head.

"Okay, clear." He finally said, giving Hasuras Na-Gerra and Aurellia a nod before turning to the guard behind him—who was looking more than a little irritated. The diplomat continuing on his way to give his well wishes.

"See that? I did an ocular assessment of the situation, determined he was not a security risk, and cleared him for passage." Drystan tapped a finger against his sunglasses.

"These help me assess a subject's threat level without them even realizing I'm performing a retinal scan. I know you're still in training—that's why the head of security asked you to shadow me. You'll get the hang of it after a couple tries."

Through gritted teeth, the guard muttered, "That's not why I'm here. I'm here to make sure you don't cause any more trouble, you drunken oaf."

It seemed Drystan had been wandering the wedding causing mildly inconvenient annoyances—enough to be irritating, but not quite enough to get a man of his reputation thrown out entirely.

Hasuras Na-Gerra Aurellia @OPEN

 

[Isur]

Hapes. He was inside the center of the galaxy. The Deep Core. So many worlds so close to one another, this had to be it, right? The shark only really knew that there was a wedding occurring. Some of the Black Sun Syndicate were attending and to be honest? Isur was excited.

He invited a lovely Sauvax … woman? Was that the right statement here? Isur wasn’t positive but it didn’t matter. The pair of them stepped off one of the Black Sun transports. He didn’t fly, Force knew that was for the best. Wearing what equated to a dress shirt with a hole for his fin and scratched all to hell because of his claws, he did make an attempt to look presentable.

So did Sauvax who was named Crustacia. He didn’t ask. Unbeknownst to Isur, Crustacia’s real name was actually something unintelligible, and not given to someone who was renting her services. Well, his Captain was renting her services. Holding out is clawed hand for her, Crustacia who was almost shining in a sapphire sequin dress against her red crab skin.

Very New Jersey.

“Wedding. Guest. Thank you.” Isur spoke, clipped. As the pair stepped in, Isur looked around. Some couple were talking. But what really grabbed his eye was the open bar. Crustacia was not struggling to keep up, not with her four legs, one arm holding a wrapped present, the other Isur's hand.

“Come!” He said, all but dragging Crustacia along.

 

[Kalen]

Not far from the Fountain Palace lay the Tombs of the Queens, the final resting place of most of Hapes' rulers. The crypts were as splendid and opulent as one would expect, their treasures jealously protected by senior members of the Royal Guard. No one was permitted entry save the groundskeeper, who by law was required to be a woman of noble birth. Indeed, it was forbidden for a man to tread in such a sacred space.

While the wedding festivities began in earnest, the groundskeeper performed a final sweep of the Tombs, starting with the oldest crypt and ending with the most recent. As she approached the mausoleum housing the remains of the Daaray family, she heard a noise coming from inside. Probably just a stone falling, or maybe an animal, but she was obliged to check. Approaching the entrance, she raised her flashlight and shone it inside. The beam fell over the effigy of Queen Kha'la Daaray , illuminating the ghostly features of her face, before flicking toward that of her younger sister, Queen Nimaa'ri. The likeness of Kha'la was eerily accurate, as true to life as one could get from carved marble, but the groundskeeper found Nimaa'ri's less convincing. Perhaps it had been a rush job?--

Arcs of blue energy shot forth. The groundskeeper never knew what hit her as the stun bolt struck her down. Kalen emerged from the darkness, silenced blaster in hand, and quickly dragged the body behind manicured shrubbery, hiding it from view. At his signal, two other figures darted out of cover, regrouping inside the Daaray mausoleum. They were Vonce and Lira, and they had been with him since the days when their rebel group had no name.

"Any problems?" Kalen asked them.

Vonce shook his head. "Guards are taken care of. We have a clear shot out of here, provided we leave before anyone notices them missing."

"It shouldn't take long." Lira said. She was already setting up shop beside the tomb of Nimaa'ri, opening a briefcase full of medical tools and a portable computer. "Ready when you are, gentlemen."

"Let's crack it open." Working together, Kalen and Vonce pushed aside the heavy stone lid of the sarcophagus...

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Fountain Palace, Hapes
Tags: Bastila Sal-Soren

Aurelian kept to the edge of the revelry, his dark silhouette caught between the chandeliers' glow and the long shadows they cast. While most dignitaries indulged in the feast, his steps took him deliberately toward the nearest bar. A dangerous smile settled on his lips as he subtly signaled two droid attendants.

He was a striking figure, perfectly suited to the decadence of Hapan courts. He wore deep black Naboo silk, tailored to perfection. A black cloak, trimmed in gold and fastened with a clasp, draped from one shoulder. Candlelight highlighted his sharp cheekbones, the restless glint in his eyes, and the slight curl of his dark hair.

His gaze, however, held no storybook charm. Those eyes gleamed with mischief and calculation, assessing every alliance and hidden threat in the room. His noble bearing and refined manner were clear, yet beneath them was a man too fond of danger to simply watch others play at power. He thrived on it, wearing it like a second crown.

Two crystal glasses of pale, glittering wine materialized before him. He turned, offering one to Bastila, who stood at his side like an unsheathed blade, completely bypassing the array of sycophants and courtiers nearby. Their alliance was uneasy, forged purely out of necessity, but he had chosen her presence deliberately. She had once been an opponent, a Sal-Soren Jedi whose name still carried weight within the Republic. Amidst a palace riddled with Syndicate and Sith influence, her steel and insight were invaluable.

Aurelian's smile softened slightly as he looked from the crowd to her, though its dangerous quality remained. "Well," he murmured, lifting his glass in a faint toast. His voice was smooth enough to be mistaken for warmth, yet it held a sharper edge. "Shall we see if our gracious hosts are ready to receive us, or do we give them a few more minutes to sweat a bit longer under the weight of their own ceremony?" He sipped, his eyes gleaming with amusement and challenge as he watched her over the cup's rim.

​

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

HAPAN WEDDING

Drink in hand, Persephone watched a crab-woman get drug by in an elegant sequin gown. Well, not quite elegant, it gave an air of hooker but who was she to judge in the tastes of fashion. The passing also reminded her of something.

"You know what we haven't done yet this year Zee? A crab boil.."

[ Your parents have been busy working this summer Miss Persephone. Perhaps a suggestion to remind them. ]

"Perhaps."

Smoothing her flowing, shimmery gown her mind drifted away from crab boils to the wedding. Persephone, despite being cynical about her own love life at the ripe old age of sixteen, loved a good love story. Yet watching the speech and seeing the body language between the two it seemed to be one of those arranged marriages. Or one to solidify power. If she was being realistic, the same thing would most likely happen to her - an arrangement with another family. Perhaps it was less hassle and heartbreak in the end to approach it like a business deal.

A deep sigh and a bit of a frown. While she had Hapan heritage, distant, this didn't feel like her scene. Something was off. Either with her or with the event. Maybe a change of scenery.

"Come along Zee, let's stretch our legs."

[ Excellent idea Miss Persephone. ]

OBJECTIVE : STEAL LIBRARY BOOKS

 

[Vestra Tane]

Tag: Anet Raine

There were, it turned out, perks to swearing a compact to destroy the Jedi. Beyond the promise of future action, beyond the access to nether-hopping starship technology. Sometimes, it turned out, one of your co-conspirators sent you an invitation to what was sure to be a delightfully tense wedding.

The Sith's attire for the evening was - perhaps slightly scandalous, given the planet - traditional Chandrilan menswear. Robe and sash (black and gold, respectively), and a big billow-y fire-red overcoat, perfect for casting an impressive but un-intimidating silhouette.

Perfect for hiding a lightsaber or a cluster of stun grenades, too. Hypothetically. But Vestra would be on her best behavior, probably. She hadn't been to a ball like this since she was a teenager, and it'd be a shame to ruin a night of perfect decadence unless something moderately more entertaining presented itself.

Stood before the Hall of Masters, the young Sith grinned and offered her companion a blackened metal arm.

"You've been to one of these, right?"

And then, a dreamy sigh. She hoped someone brought up the misandry. She could use a nice, low-stakes fistfight.

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Miss Raine arrived - the daughter of the obscenely wealthy Alabaster Raine, though anyone who actually knew the man called him Bass. Perhaps she was a known quantity, or perhaps she would blend in as one of the many filler guests of acceptable quality to have been invited. Not that it mattered, for the half-pantoran secretly crushed on any excuse she had to attend such high society events.

It wasn't for the publicity, it wasn't for words with the high and mighty, no... it was for fun.

She arrived dressed to the nines. An all black dress and matching heeled boots. The former wrapped around her body like one exceptionally long strip of inky fabric that wove back over tastefully. Hints of pale blue skin without giving too much away. The right amount of provocative. As for the latter piece, her boots, they were simple and smooth with a singular darkened steel zipper located on the back.

Anet wasn't one to leave her wrists and neck naked, either. A choker made of silver that clasped around her throat, and a matching companion for her left wrist.

She took the offered arm. "Yes, though the Hapan affairs tend to be more interesting..." One could only assume knowing who the groom was.

"Now, Miss Tane - I need you to know that the only reason I invited you here is because I think you know how to have fun. Please don't disappoint," She teased.

Her demeanor was daybreak compared to the intense and fearful version she presented at the Conclave. It said one thing: this was her element.

She glanced at her companion on the sly. "Your choice in threads?" Said cryptically with nothing to suggest how she felt about it.

Vestra Tane

 

[Veno]

Veno arrived with a contingent of Imperials from the ISB. The criminal syndicates were of a vested interest to the Empire, especially those that loomed so closely to the core worlds. Even if the groom stood opposed to their beloved Emperor Solipsis. As to why that was, Veno hardly made out. He was too busy playing dead.

He had never been to a wedding before, however. On account of being an awful, scummy, lowlife excuse for a person. Though that was to be expected of an assassin of the guild, of the Empire, and now of the Sith that helms the Empire. Oh, well. As to why they chose Veno, that was anyone's guess.

Being something of an independent operator of late, he was free to pursue the real joys of this particular wedding: unabashed thievery.

Sending himself into an overly confident strut, he took off in search of both nothing in particular and everything while reciting that anonymously posted list.

 

[Juniper Le Fey]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⛧━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Objective: "Find" library books​

In large social settings like this, Juniper thrived. She was very capable of holding conversations, commanding them even, but even she found the whole affair to be quite grand. She had never been to Hapes, but had always wanted to go, and while she didn't have anything to do with the politics that brought this situation to light, she would profit it from it.

She had heard word of there being an ancient tome in the grand library here, one that had information about her mother's tribe of Witches. The ones she had been on a hunt for for years. All she needed to do was make her way to the library, and figure out where he hell the tome was. It couldn't be that hard could it?

So there she stood looking through the books the library had in its vast collection. She noticed in the corner of her eye, they had a display specifically for the wedding that was all about love. She moseyed over there, being a secret romance novel enthusiast. She figured, if she were here she might as well kill some time. The book she was looking for would be here. "The Duke and I, the Sith and Us" She remembered seeing it on the holonet, reviews said it was just the right amount of smut. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before she flipped the cover.

 

[Tohu]

“Man, my head is spinning.” Tohu said, scratching the back of his head.

It felt like there was a million books here and out of a million books, aspiring bounty hunter Tohu was looking for a specific cooking book of all things. That’s what the Vigo’s job was. And as boring as it sounded, he needed Razmir Tezhyn ’s blessing to get that bounty hunter license.

“There it is!” he said and took the book called “A Feast of Temptation: The Queen Mother’s Recipes for Body and Soul” from the massive bookshelf and opened its first page, reading it out loud:

“Start with peaches, soft and round,
the sweetest ones that can be found.
Fold them gently into cake,
stirring slow for pleasure’s sake.
Add some sugar, just a dash,
let it mingle, let it mash.
Whisk it smooth, don’t let it break,
patience makes the perfect cake.
Heat it steady, not too fast,
good things come to those who last.”​

Tohu stared at the letters for a long while, shut the book, then opened it again on the same page.

The content didn’t change.

He gently shoved another visitor of the library ( Juniper Le Fey ) and asked, “Does this sound like a cooking book to you? Like how many grams of peaches you think the author is implying here?”​

 

[Isur]

Always Open for Interaction

Crustacia's eyes looked at themselves high up on their stalks. Isur was interesting, even for a Karkarodon. He was crew on a ship but he could be more than that if he worked at it. Word was that he controlled the Force, ever so slightly. Her legs scuttled as she was dragged to the bar. One hand placing the gift on the bar and waving over a butler.

Some endoskeleton species. She could rip their meat off right now. But she was a guest. And opted against that move.


Isur looked over to his guest as two large glasses of ale were served in front of him. He passed one to his date. "Drinks. Free!" He let out a bellowing laughter, that if he was a Herglic would probably put a whole through the wall. As he started drinking he noticed Crustacia not.

"Anything more classy, for me?" She asked. As sweetly as her mouth parts allowed.

The pair looked around. And noticed a few doors along one of the walls, another soft-skin-endoskeleton coming out with a crate of wine bottles. Guards were about but they seemed on less than stellar attention.

Isur ordered a class of wine for Crustacia. "And one of whatever the she-guard drinks. On me." He grinned. With so many teeth. Too many teeth if you asked the bartender.

As the drink was served the two aquatics waved her over with an appendage each.

 

[Mercy]

The chair creaked precariously under her weight as Mercy shifted slightly to snatch a flute of champagne passing her by.

The festivities were fun enough.

A lot of drinks, great food (of which Mercy had heaped a large pile on her numerous plates), entertainment aplenty. Even Aurellia 's tone as she hailed her new husband could only amuse her. It was truly terrible what the women of this Galaxy had to undergo to keep their power intact. But at least Hasuras Na-Gerra was prime stock.

The children Aurellia would bear for the Hapan Throne would be infused with strength. And if any threats appeared on the horizon, it was better to bleed the Vahla Coursers than to try and rely on the Black Sun.

The latter had sealed a pact of friendship, but the loyalty of criminals was always dubious at best.

She plucked the complementary cigar from the extended fingers of the waiting men, arrayed behind her to serve her needs, and lit it up. From the corner of her eye she saw a handmaiden signal to her with a quick flash of her fingers. Blink and it was already gone, but Mercy got the message just fine. She stood up, cigar between her teeth and winked at the Queen if their gazes crossed.

Then she went off, to have a liaison with someone who didn't exist and certainly would never be acknowledged.

 

[Juniper Le Fey]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⛧━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━​

Juniper quickly snapped the book shut as she caught commotion heading her way from a gangly man. She wasn't about to be caught dead by a ruler of Hapes reading smut in their grand library. But when he approached, Juniper realized who he was. An aspiring hunter, already making a name for himself in the Syndicate. Tohu had started small, now at least known. In a criminal element like the Black Sun, surviving long enough to reach even that was a feat. He was doing well for himself, as well as any corpse-in-waiting could hope.

The closer the young man drew, the more Juniper could read of him. Youthful, yes, but raw power radiated from him in waves. If he kept his head down and played his cards right, he might go far. If he made a habit of bumping into dangerous witches and bounty hunters, that lifespan would shorten considerably. She took the shove in stride, inhaling slow and deep before letting it out. She wasn't here to snap necks. Not yet.

"I think she measures her peaches in inches, my dear." Her eyes hovered just above his, lifted higher by the boots that accented her already statuesque height. She tilted the book open again, tapping a manicured nail on the chapter title: Recipes for Ruin.

Her throat cleared, lips curling into a sly smile as she traced the words and read aloud:

"Take a peach, press firm, don't wait,
let the juice run, let it sate.
Slide your tongue, slow, make it linger,
taste is sweeter on your finger.

Pour the cream, let it spill,
don't stop stirring 'til it thrills.
Heat it low, then raise the fire,
watch it swell to match desire.

When it's ready, when it's bold,
take your pleasure, serve it whole.
Feast until the hunger's gone-
and lick the plate 'til it shines on."​

Juniper snapped the book shut with a thwack, her devilish smile blooming wider.
"You're reading smut, boy." The laugh that followed was low, husky, amused. She waved a free hand toward the shelf display above the book, its placard bold: Romance.

"And anybody who reads romance," she added with a wink, "knows exactly what that means."

​

 

[Tohu]

Tohu only looked up when the other library patron spoke. Broke the spell those peach-colored letters had on him. The woman was tall, six feet easy, and he knew her before he even traced her from head to toe. Magik June. Least that's what they called her back when Tohu was still growing up on the streets of Shaddaa.

The Smuggler's Moon chewed people up fast. Most came and went. Some hid out a while, then went too. The few off-worlders who stuck around everybody knew. June was one of them. Hard to forget a tall, bare-headed woman with a wide array of exotic ways to kill you.

Tohu couldn't tell if he was intimidated, or charmed by June; or a mixture of the two, but he listened to her, compelled all the same.

and lick the plate 'til it shines on."

He said, "Who the hell gives eating instructions in a cooking book?"

June snapped the book shut, flashed him a devil's smile, "You're reading smut, boy.", she said, laughing, pointing him to the placard above that read ROMANCE.

"And anybody who reads romance knows exactly what that means," she winked.

Tohu didn't say a thing, feeling heat on his cheeks. Couldn't be blushing. Cool guys don't blush. He flipped the book open fast, picked a page, and read out loud, figuring she had to be kidding:

Whip the cream till peaks are tight,
Pour it thick through darkest night.
Grind and stir, don't let it stop,
Push it--​

-- okay, yeah, I get it." he said, slamming the book shut but not putting it back on the shelf. Razmir Tezhyn wanted the book. He couldn't blow his shot at a sponsorship for his license.

Tohu told himself he'd better change the topic, forget all this happened, "The name's Tohu. You must be June." he tried the usual smirk, but that usual bravado on it was faint at best, lost somewhere in the 'The Queen Mother's Recipes for Body and Soul'.

2.You procure the allegiance of a guard or group of guards. (+1 point if you kiss a guard or group of guards.)

He heard footsteps. One guard, maybe two, coming closer.

Or maybe someone else? Or maybe he was hearing things.​

Juniper Le Fey

 

[Ben Khal]

The sound of glass breaking nearly made Ben leap from his seat. Only as he spun around, expecting calamity and danger, did he realize his mistake. There was no attacker waiting in the wings. Someone had just accidentally dropped their champagne. Cringing, he covered his eyes with one hand, ashamed of himself.

It had been two years since Prince Astor Daaray and his bride were slain, and a few weeks since the assassination of Queen Nimaa'ri during an attack by raiders. Ben had taken vacation leave in order to sit beside his family during the ceremony, dutifully presenting a united front in support of the new Chume and her consort. But his mind was a million miles away from the revelries. The new Queen Mother seemed promising: though she was wounded in the raid, she had returned with a fleet and brought the raiders to heel. Now she had made their leader her slave, a spoil of war chained by a massive golden collar, forced to kneel at her feet. Marrying him may have seemed bizarre to outsiders, but it was very traditionally Hapan. They loved to parody their historical origins, inverting the roles which their ancestors had been forced to play. And Aurellia, it was said, was very traditional.

Was that a good thing? Or did Hapes need change now more than ever? Ben wished he knew. Had someone asked him that question during the last royal wedding, his answer would've been automatic. But the older he got, the less sure he felt of anything.

Tugging on the tight, stiff collar of his suit, he decided he needed a change of scenery. He rose from his chair and started toward the door, so lost in thought that he barely stopped himself from bumping into Persephone Dashiell . "Sorry, excuse me..." he mumbled awkwardly - until he caught sight of what she was looking at. "Is that a crab dressed like a...?" he trailed off, stopping to stare at Isur and his date.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

S P L E N D O R_A N D_S P I T E

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
HAPES, INNER RIM

​

It was rare for Sularen to find himself in the midst of social events. He often felt out of place when it came to these types of events teaming with life and ambiance, especially when he was more used to behind-the-scenes meetings, small conferences and leading Imperial fleets and army on the battlefield. At the very least his attendance to this grand wedding on Hapes had some strategic significance for the Imperial Confederation, which made this event more bearable for the Supreme Commander.

This was also his first time attending a wedding, but then again he was a notorious Imperial Warlord who had played a key role in the brutal campaigns of the Brotherhood of the Maw and the Dark Empire in the past so the chances of people letting him attend their weddings were already low to begin with. Then again he didn't mind having such a reputation, after all it made it easier for him to find more reliable associates and partners who could assist him in achieving his goals.

Nevertheless, the Supreme Commander did not come here to simply observe the wedding, and there was one matter that needed to be addressed. Thus when the Queen Mother began to deliver her speech, he would silently slip out of the Hall of Mirrors and began simply wondering the Palace hallways, enjoying the relative calm and silence as he made his way through the palace.

Tags | OPEN​

 

[Jaina Grayson]

Back at the entrance to the Palace, a new guest arrived fashionably late. Showing her invite to the guard with a fanged leer, Jaina Grayson breezed past security and into the Hall of Masters.

She was a bit hard to miss in the crowd, a massive musclebound Devaronian woman walking in ankle-snappingly high heels, half her head shaved, one horn broken, red skin covered in tattoos and battle scars. It had been her choice to come in this configuration, her Warrior Form, rather than a more subtle shape. She wasn't here to charm her way into some shitty nobles' good graces. It had also been her decision to show up wearing a white dress festooned with pale sequins and gleaming pearls. Upstaging the bride wasn't the main reason she had gone through the trouble of coming to this gilded misandrist shithole, but she just couldn't resist.

So what was the actual reason she was here? Well...

"Oi, have either of you seen Entora Vaelor?" Jaina asked Vestra Tane and Anet Raine . They were the first people she happened to see, so naturally she approached them first. "The Ducha of Arabanth? Pale twig of a woman, dark hair, blue eyes?"