Faction Taste of the Temple

[Xuko Pagoi]

Spoiler: Guidelines

This social is Open to Jedi and their allies at the Tython temple. Characters are invited to bring food or drinks from their homeworlds for others and themselves to enjoy! Be creative and have fun

Ever since Klar told him that she liked watching him cook, Xuko had been working to bring some of his favorite Iridonian recipes to the Jedi temple; and after having to explain to the Council why he needed to import a specific kind of scorpion, he had been charged with making it an event that all Jedi could attend. That was why he had spent the past several hours setting up small booths around the stone steps of the Tython temple, as well as tables and chairs scattered around the temple entrance, for his fellow Jedi to use. Xuko had claimed a booth for his homeworld of Iridonia, and was busy putting the finishing touches on the Vren'kath as the first guests began arriving.

The Zabrak adjusted the small paper tents in front of each dish. Each food had its ingredients listed, as well as the spice level. A quick glance would show that Iridonian foods were, on the whole, extraordinarily spicy; and with the exception of the bread that Azurine Varek had promised to drop off, the food he'd brought today reflected that.

As his stomach rumbled and he waited for his first victim customer, Xuko wondered what other foods or drinks would be available to choose from; he'd spent so much time coordinating the event, as well as his own booth, that he hadn't had time to peruse the sign-up sheet to see what else was being brought.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The soft clink of ceramic dishes preceded him, balanced expertly in a woven carrier slung over one shoulder. Aadihr walked with slow, deliberate steps, each guided by the gentle current of life that pulsed around the Temple grounds. The scent of spice, char, and roasted protein filled the air—Iridonian, unmistakably—and drew a quiet smile to his lips. He followed it like a thread in the tapestry of the Force.

He stopped at an unclaimed table near the edge of the gathering, near enough to hear laughter but removed enough for the nervous or curious to linger without pressure. With the grace of someone accustomed to silence, he began to unpack each dish:

A covered clay bowl, warm to the touch, was placed first. The moment the lid lifted, a mellow, herbal aroma escaped—braised Shaari fennel, soft and fork-tender, with a hint of star-anise and cave-root. Next came a small stack of folded vellimoss bread, its pale, almost silver crust dusted with cooling herbs that numbed the tongue in gentle waves. Finally, a narrow bottle of Kurlathi nectar, frosted slightly, was set upright beside them. He poured a small sample into a shared cup and set it forward with no fanfare.

There were no labels. Instead, each dish bore faintly etched lines in Miralukan braille—meant to be read by touch, not seen.

Aadihr set his walking stick beside the table, then folded his hands, exhaling softly through his nose. He let the atmosphere of the temple flow through him—laughter, sizzling pans, the pulse of gathered Jedi.

Let them come in their own time.
"The food is warm. You're welcome to share."

Xuko Pagoi Azurine Varek OPEN​

 

[Aris Noble]

Cultural exchange was a wonderful thing. The Epicanthix loved to celebrate all the cultures that made up their own. Each of the civilizations they had conquered or won over brought their own aspects. Artistry, culinary, warfare. They were celebrated in their descendants within the Epicanthic culture. Every family had their line that could be traced all the way back.

Aris had brought his own here. It was the royal line, unbroken since the time of Solomon. He idly set out a couple of the dishes, a smile on his face. They were hot, of course. Spices were important to the core of the population. Wild boar stew, made with a different beast than on Panatha but close enough to be considered just as tender. Pastries as well. Even a cider, though it wasn't anything compared to the spirits his family could make.

They just weren't appropriate for Padawan's his age to give out.

Aadihr Lidos | Xuko Pagoi

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Summer Fit
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Companion: Isari
Tag: Xuko Pagoi Aadihr Lidos Aris Noble OPEN

The warm scents of cumin and cinnamon clung to Eve's cloak as she arrived at the temple grounds, weaving through people, a pair of covered dishes held steady in her arms. A slim shape padded close at her heels, silver eyes bright beneath a sleek white mask of fur.

Isari moved with delicate caution through the press of robes and drifting spices, tail held high, nose twitching at every unfamiliar scent.

Ever since she and Tigris had moved to a small apartment near the temple, Eve had found herself cooking again — properly cooking, not ration packs or temple kitchens. It felt like breathing again.

The dishes were still hot. She set them carefully on one of the empty tables, lifting each lid to let the steam roll out in gentle spirals.

Soft, golden pastries filled with spiced lentils and chopped nuts, brushed with honey until they gleamed. A deep orange lentil curry, thick with tomato and sweet pepper, bright threads of saffron swirling through the surface. A platter of marinated greens and crisp white roots, tart with vinegar and flecked with toasted seeds. All food she'd grown up on. Food that tasted of home.

Isari sniffed the edge of the table, ears flicking forward as if to approve. Eve smoothed a stray curl behind her ear, cheeks a touch pink from the heat, then turned, scanning the gathering until her eyes found familiar faces.

Aadihr, quiet as ever, near his table. Aris with that small, proud smile. Xuko, bustling with energy around the booths. She smiled at them each and waved from across the way, glad to see them all again.

Seeing them all well — expecially Aadihr, after everything — made her heart swell.

 

[Cordelia 'Cori' Eldoris]

Location: Tython
Objective: Share ersansyr culture, experience the cultures of others in turn
Tags: Xuko Pagoi Aadihr Lidos Aris Noble Everest Vale

The air was brimming with both excitement and the smell of good food. Cori could scarcely keep the bounce out of her step as she approached a vacant table, her arms laden with woven seaweed baskets filled with her favourite foods.

What a wonderful idea that young Iridonian padawan had had, suggesting that the Jedi come together to share their culture in the form of a food festival at Tython. Honestly, it was about time! After all, the order was made up of thousands of force sensitives from all walks of life, drawn from every corner of the galaxy.

Even from a corner tucked far away in the outer rim. Even from a planet as far removed and unknown as Aquilaris Minor.

Cori placed down each of her woven baskets gently, taking great care not to damage the contents inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the other stalls, representing Eshan, the Epicanthrix, Alpheridies and of course, Iridonia. The Jedi knight longed to visit each and every one of their booths, and learn all she could about their home-worlds, but first, she had to finish setting up her own stall.

It had never truly struck Cori just how much her colony back home relied on her to represent them in the galaxy. It hadn't been until she had been named Jedi watchman of the Aquilaris Minor system that it truly struck her how much of an accidental spokesperson she was. The ceremony her people had thrown her just a few days ago after hearing the news had been touching, but also revealing - there very few ersansyr out there in the galaxy, and aside from her, no other planet hopping mermaid was a reef siren. There was no one else to represent the small group of merfolk living alone in the reefs of an unknown outer rim planet. No one else to share their culture, but her.

It was a rather daunting level of responsibility, so Cori tried not to think about it too much.

Beautifully manicured nails lifted up the lid of the first basket, revealing rows and rows of neatly wrapped sushi rolls. They contained a variety of meat fillings: salmon, prawns, tuna, crab, parrot fish, all paired with fresh sea kelp that resembled and tasted similar to lettuce. The rolls were wrapped up with seaweed and fluffy white rice, though the ersansyr inwardly bemoaned the fact that it was landgrown rice and not the briny and moreish searice that she had grown up eating in the colony herself.

The next basket was filled with salted and roasted salicornia, cooked over a fire that had came close to mimicking the lava vent ovens of her home, before being set aside to cool until it was room temperature. Looking around, Cori had a feeling that she was the only member of the festival to be offering exclusively cold food at her table. Living entirely underwater meant that everything the merfolk of Aquilaris Minor ate was the same temperature as the water. Ersansyr stomachs simply weren't used to the sensation of hot food.

Uncovering two more baskets, Cori revealed piles of sugary meoa. The brightly coloured rice dumplings had been speared onto driftwood skewers and formed into cute little shapes. It saddened the seer a little that she had never truly mastered the ability to turn the raw dough into the intricate forms the other colony members back home did, but she had done her best. The rice dumplings had been formed into the Jedi's best attempts at stars and seashells, before being coated in a sugar and soy mixture and cooked to perfection. Cori resisted the urge to grab one herself - she could have the leftovers, once everyone else had tried them out.

Finally, she finished with her smallest basket, containing sticky ikxi, a type of mochi that could be made underwater. A fond smile grew across the Jedi's face at the sight of the little pink balls, flavoured with the red seaweed that grew in her people's orchards just beyond the reef. Her mother had given these to her before she had left Aquilaris Minor after the ceremony. They were homemade and authentic, and Cori hoped the other Jedi would appreciate them just as much as she did.

Now that everything had been set up, Cori swayed on the balls of her feet, anxious to chat to the Jedi around her. She would give it five minutes before she abandoned her post to go talk to the other stall holders. People could always help themselves, right?

 

[Drystan Creed]

TYTHON

Drystan stood in front of a mobile serving line—a litany of sauce-laden, spice-garnished meats accompanied by rice and noodles, each served separately in different trays.

Wearing an apron stitched with "Kiss the Cook" across the front and a hairnet to complete the look, Drystan served a line of hungry-looking Jedi, slapping their selected meats and grains onto white foam takeout trays. The line briefly stalled, however, as he found himself in a discussion with a Lannik padawan.

"I think I'll do the General Rom Mohc Chicken with rice," the padawan said. "And can I get an egg roll with it?"

Drystan stared at him blankly before replying.

"It comes with an egg roll."

A pause. The padawan stared back, uncertain of what he'd heard—ironic, given the Lannik species' reputation for heightened hearing.

"It comes with an egg roll."

Another pause. Still no reply.

"...Egg roll."

Whatever the exchange amounted to, the padawan did eventually receive his order: a plate of deep-fried chicken pieces, coated in a sweet and spicy sauce and served on a bed of fried rice—alongside the object of his desire. One crispy, crunchy, meat-and-cabbage-filled egg roll, roughly the size of a Dowutin's middle finger.

Though not native to Coruscant—Drystan's home planet—Atrisian food in the form of takeout had become a staple. One could find Atrisian restaurants on nearly every corner of the Underworld, their affordable price and bold flavor drawing in customers from all walks of life.

@OPEN

 

[Azurine Varek]

Cultural Diffusion

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x]

Azzie had been up since before the first light; sleeves rolled to the elbows and an apron was tied in a crooked knot. She'd commandeered part of the temple's auxiliary kitchen like a general claiming a battlefield, sweat beading at her temples as fire and spice clung to the air. The kabobs had taken the longest. Blok meat was tough if you didn't know how to handle it, and Iridonian peppers didn't ask if you were ready. They demanded it. Every stick was seared just enough to caramelize the edges with a golden sheen from the marinade and dusted with crimson flakes.

Iridonian cuisine had never catered to the faint of heart. Her people were strict carnivores by biology (which in turn trickled into their culture), though there were a few hardy grains grown in the ash-rich soils of the deeper canyons. She'd used one of them, bluth flour, to make both the clear noodles and the thick, terracotta-colored pepper bread that was as much memory as it was food. That one was for Xuko Pagoi . He'd asked, and how could she say no? Not when she still remembered her grandmother's coarse voice guiding her to "Knead harder, little warrior, or the bread will shame us both."

She approached Xuko's booth with a tray balanced on her hip and a crooked grin on her lips. The aroma alone was enough to make nearby Jedi pause, intrigued... or afraid. For her, however, the smell was layered and lovely. "Brought the bread as well as a curry dip," she said, setting them down gently beside his Vren'kath. "Spice level's marked, but I feel morally obligated to make sure you warn people ahead of time anyway. If anyone combusts, I'm denying responsibility."

She leaned in conspiratorially with a soft chuckle. "I also got my hands on some of these, if you wanted to try something that normally might put you in a duel with your guts."

With a wink and a wave, Azzie handed him a few small and white enzyme pills and then moved on, weaving through the growing crowd with the ease of someone who belonged anywhere she decided to be. Half the cookies were tucked into a smaller tin, their surface glossy from the syrup glaze Everest had taught her to make, which they had made from the small flowers of the bluth plant to be safe for desert carnivore species. A hybrid of Iridonian fire and Eshan delicacy—brittle, bright, and somehow perfect. She found Everest Vale near the cluster of tables where guests mingled.

"These are yours," Azzie said as she handed the tin over, then jerked her chin toward the larger basket still tucked under her arm. "I made some of the clear noodles without meat, too. It was more difficult than I expected, but I thought you might at least want to try something from my homeworld without having to surgically extract protein from it."

She didn't linger long, though. The temple courtyard was alive now with Jedi and guests alike sampling flavors most had never dreamed of. She passed by Aris Noble on her way, giving a quick smile, her eyes finally meeting his for longer than she'd been able to manage in months. Progress! "I would offer you some Iridonian whiskey, but your parents might have my head for that. I will be back for some of that stew, though; it smells amazing!"

Azzie followed the pull of something quieter, steadier. The thread in the Force that always guided her back to him. Aadihr Lidos sat calmly at his table, the soft etchings on his dishware catching the angled Tython sunlight. Still, serene, centered in a way she could never quite match. It made a small flutter twist through her. She leaned in and kissed his cheek gently—careful of the way he turned to her while having to push herself to her tiptoes to do so.

"Hope you're hungry," she said as she reached him, setting down a trio of her dishes beside his. Her voice was lighter than it had been with anyone else, teasing but warm. "Or at least curious enough to risk what plenty of people claim to be 'taste bud trauma.'"

Xuko Pagoi | Aadihr Lidos | Aris Noble | Everest Vale | Cordelia 'Cori' Eldoris | Drystan Creed​

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."​

LOCATION: Tython - Jedi Temple
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Xuko Pagoi | Aadihr Lidos | Aris Noble | Everest Vale | Cordelia 'Cori' Eldoris | Drystan Creed | Azurine Varek

Something spicy-sweet hit the courtyard breeze way before he did. A few seconds later, Rikuan came bounding around the corner, arms hooked under a heavy clay pot almost bigger than he was, tail swaying in rhythm like it had its own agenda. Finally, he dropped to a crouch beside the food tables with a theatrical "Whew!"

Fashionably late as always, oblivious to the fact his stall had been unattended for... a while. Spotting another Padawan who seemed to be browsing the other food stalls, once the pair made eye contact - Rikuan excitedly waved him over. The Padawan seemed nervous, probably all too aware of Rikuan's reputation at the temple.

"Alright, alright! No one touch anything explosive yet. I brought food."

He popped the lid off with a little "ta-da!" gesture, and steam rolled out, carrying the scent of roasted fruit, something earthy and warm, and just enough chili to make you nervous.

"This..." he said proudly, "Is T'kaar Flamefruit & Rootshard Stew. Traditional Makurian dish. Usually served after rites of passage, or, y'know, the time my cousin Laka fell out of a glider tree and saw her ancestors. Again. She's fine. Sort of."

He reached for a ladle, then forgot about it halfway and kept talking with both hands instead.

"You've got flamefruit, sweet, spicy, makes your tongue tingle if it likes you. Rootshard tubers, which look like rocks but soften up real nice. And, uh…" He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "...Those little jelly blobs? Pickled frog eggs. Don't ask. Just eat them fast and don't chew. Or chew. I dunno. Surprise yourself."

He finally noticed he was still holding the lid and swapped it for the ladle.

"Anyway." he added, tail flicking behind him, "We make this to honor the Three Winds, our ancestral spirits that guide the body, mind, and soul. Force-sensitive Makurians are called Windtouched, which sounds cool unless you're the only one your clan's had in, like, a hundred years and everyone keeps staring at you like you're gonna float off or explode or something."

He blinked, being the only Makurian at the temple, Rikuan realized the obvious. He waved and flashed a goofy grin.

"I'm this generation's Windtouched, by the way. Hi. Okay! Who's brave enough to try the soul-poppers first?"

He started serving stew into flatleaf bowls, tail bouncing in rhythm.. But his attention was already drifting, nose twitching, ears flicking toward the other smells drifting through the courtyard. He padded over to the Iridonian section, picked up a spicy skewer, and immediately started chewing, eyes widening.

"Oh, Winds!. My eyeballs are sweating. This is amazing."

He shoved the rest in his mouth and walked away without a second thought. Two seconds later he nearly tripped over a bowl of lentil curry and crouched down to sniff it.

"Okay, this smells like comfort. Like, nap-after-a-duel comfort." He spooned a bit into his mouth, nodded slowly, then pointed at no one in particular. "Whoever made this, you understand me on a spiritual level."

He grabbed one of the seaweed baskets next, examining it like it might bite back. "Alright, what are you -- oohh, crunchy!" He devoured it in two bites, already halfway turned toward another stall. "Wait, hold on. Was that from underwater? Why is that so good?"

By the time he found the Epicanthix-styled dish, he was already mid-ramble to a passing Knight about how his stew once made someone see their own birth. He took a bite of the new dish mid-sentence, paused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully… then gave a slow nod of respect.

"Alright. That one's got discipline. That's, like… serious food. That's meditate-for-two-hours-after food. I dig it."

He circled back to his pot, resting his hands on his hips - tail wagging. Rikuan was pleased with his dish, grinning like an idiot, but aware of how the contents sounded pretty intimidating. In a pathetic attempt to reassure everyone, he said:

"It only bites if you're afraid. That's what my aunt says. She lies a lot, though."

Then, without warning, he stuffed a full spoon of his own stew into his mouth, gave a thumbs-up to himself, and walked off humming, probably forgetting he had a bowl in each hand.
​