The Ball of Bastion [Invite Only][Primeval & Guests]

[Boethiah]

The begotten pearl to which empires once looked upon with fervency; Bastion.

Once more this world has been traded and yet again it has been made the center of a nation. After quiet years the Host Lord has invited various dignitaries, Sith Lords, and other elite to celebrate their victories.

​

Guests would arrive first at the Bastion customs station before being transported to Ravelin, the capital city of Bastion and where the Imperial Palace stood inside the central ramparts.

From there they would make their way to the Imperial Palace itself, traveling in armoured land speeders and private shuttles. Under the strictest security and watchful eye of Primeval guards, guests would then be allowed to enter the palace through the entrance hall. Through a grand corridor they would be escorted with much fanfare to the throneroom where attendants with drinks and exotic foods from across the galaxy awaited them.

Guests would have all received a small flimsiplast invitation which let them know what type of events to expect for the night's festivities. At some point during the evening a public execution would take place in the Pellaeon Gardens. In the Imperial Library a slave auction would be conducted later on.

While the rest of the Palace would be off limits to prying eyes there was a wing of the palace reserved for those who wished to stay overnight.

Music:​

Track I | Track II ​

Guests​

​

[member=Disciple]​

[member="Silara Kuhn"] & [member="Alric Kuhn"]​

[member="Jared Ovmar"] & [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

[member="Inger Strömfire"]​

[member="Cryax Bane"]​

[member="Yvette Dusong"]​

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]​

[member="Vrag"] & [member="Hal Terrano"]​

[member="Lorelei Darke"] & [member="Gerion Ardik"]​

[member="Jacen Cavill"]​

[member="Marek Starchaser"]​

[member="Ludolf Vaas"]​

[member="Tmoxin Temi"] & [member="Hans Vaiden"]​

[member="Darth Venefica"] & [member="Mandy Diaz"]​

[member="Sitara Qin"] ​

​

Spoiler

[member="Aleksandyr Gaillard"]
[member="Alexandra Imura"]
[member="Algan Crow"]
[member=Anja Aj’Rou]
[member="Apoc"]
[member="Ari Jade"]
[member="Azrael Asura"]
@Bal’gul
[member="Bant Mezaras"]
[member="Boan Rein"]
[member="Carlos Castillo"]
[member="Catalys Maijora"]
[member="Cei Hyst"]
[member="Ceska Starshield"]
[member="Charmisokay"]
[member="Chen"]
[member="Choden Yonten"]
[member="Ciara"]
[member="Ciara Jevnaker"]
[member="Condor"]
[member="Cordelia deWinter"]
[member="Danger Arceneau"]
[member="Darth Arcis"]
[member="Darth Legion"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Darth Nephthys"]
[member="Darth Vashti"]
[member="Delyna Karthoys Haymire"]
[member="Destiny"]
[member="Dott Vel"]
[member="Ebenezer"]
[member="Ekaro"]
[member="Enigma"]
[member="Faye Terrik"]
[member="Felix Dunst"]
[member="Geronivous"]
[member="grimAuxiliatrix"]
[member="Harrip"]
@Hutuun’Kyramud
[member="HWD-002"]
[member="Isley Verd"]
[member="Jarel Reverie"]
@Jorda Uluto
[member="Julian Solo"]
[member="JX-XS Visser"]
[member="Kadri Ughad"]
[member="Kael Kessler"]
@Kel Thayne
[member="Killasin"]
[member="Kitsune"]
[member="Kyr Jendri"]
[member="Kyra Moonwood"]
[member="Laaba Rancisis"]
[member="Laguz Vald"]
[member="Loman Calrissian"]
@Lucullus Lacar
[member="Malik Rodarch"]
@Marth
[member="Meliodas"]
[member="Mikkel Markov"]
[member="Mongalore"]
[member="Morrigan"]
[member="Naja Ardiln"]
[member="Nalar Lims-Kragma"]
[member="Netherworld"]
[member="Nickolas Imura"]
[member="Nrahsol Enelram"]
[member="Nui Akona"]
[member="Nulgath Zardai"]
[member="Omag Don"]
[member="Ozuvyn Sar-Sargoth"]
[member="Parmi Miemant"]
[member="Pel Duval"]
[member="Perla Pirjo"]
[member="Phoebe Draclau"]
[member="Ragnar the Destroyer"]
[member="Ragos Terrek"]
[member="Rush Basai"]
[member="S1-000384"]
[member="Salacious Vile"]
[member="Scorch"]
[member="Semaj Srehtam"]
[member="Seren Ordavo"]
@Shargon’Ta
[member="Sigourney Xanthius"]
[member="Sirak Kolar"]
[member="Spook"]
[member="Taneith Vizsla"]
[member="Telthòr"]
[member="Tesar Osted"]
[member="Thanatos Eligos"]
[member="The Dark Man"]
[member="The Primeval Storyteller"]
[member="The Queen"]
[member="The Smallest One"]
@Tyro’din
[member="Unit 843"]
[member="Valerie Vizsla"]
[member="Venus Rose"]
[member="Vereor"]
[member="Vilox Pazela"]
[member="Vishune"]
[member="Walks With Spirits"]
[member="Wanderer EXO"]
[member="Warlord Bobdonovich"]
[member="Xalus"]
[member="Xilo Gale"]
[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Soeht]

Already in the ballroom, Bestala scanned the area for any familiar faces - as well as any noteworthy people. She still wore full Mandalorian armor - yet it was clear that there was a significant shine and sheen to it. She appeared to be unarmed and without any jetpack strapped to her back. She had a cape draped over her back.

As far as people she was looking for, Bestala was wondering whether or not her sister, [member="Valerie Vizsla"], would be attending the ball as well. If not, she seemed intent on seeking out any Mandalorian Crusaders.

 

[Hans Vaiden]

The Lambda-class shuttle touched down with a precision unlike any Hans had ever seen. Really, that pilot was doing his job for once rather than twirling the shuttle around when the Captain needed to venture from vessel to vessel. It appeared Staff Sergeant Corvik was learning to humble himself and ease up on the throttle some. It was either that or the fact that doing something wrong on a little excursion such as this would spell doom for him and his entire family tree.

Probably a little of both.

The Imperial officer rose with a curt movement as his little Honor Guard of Novatroopers moved in formation to flank the entry ramp of the vessel. Hans sent forest-green eyes to his right, extending his hand to his date. Commander [member="Tmoxin Temi"] looked absolutely stunning. Hans was surprised to receive the invitation to this event, so he had asked his fellow officer to accompany him. To his delight, she accepted.

"My lady," he cooed with a cool grin on his face.

Once she rose with ladylike grace, it was time for them and their guard to depart. Their Primeval allies had mentioned boasting tight security, but it never hurt to bring your own - especially if you had a million Credit bounty on your head. Plus their gold and black completed his tuxedo, minus the tie. He wasn't a fan of ties, constricting your breathing and whatnot. The officer's uniform had been begotten as well, as he was off duty and looking like your typical soldier was bound to inflate the egos of the upper echelon, delegative-types attending.

Otherwise, if nothing would delay their venture, the pair and their accompanying assets would relocate from the palace's starport and head towards the throne room.

 

[Corey's OOC]

Bright Star Entertainment’s CEO loved parties. It was really what he did best in the galaxy. Some people were combatants, but is Marek had any super ability, it could be a liver and the ability survive on minimal sleep. That was half the reason he went into the business he did. And that meant he was going to get on a lot of different guest lists throughout the galaxy, but in the line of the Abrion Corporate’s interests. And the dark side, because, lets be honest, Marek was gray, but he was a dark gray.

Ish.

While his family was very… Imperialistic, he wasn’t representing them or their specific interests tonight. He was representing corporate interests, the Techno Union and Bright Star, for the Primeval, a group he wasn’t so sure about but if they were okay with the SIth, they were okay with him. That was saying something about the people the CEO liked to surround himself with, now didn’t it? They might be a little crazy, but it was better to have that sort of group on your side, than against you, right?

Definitely.

Especially with the Jedi baby-nappers and the Rebel Alliance in the galaxy, people who weren’t afraid to cause a ruckus were what he enjoyed.

Bastion was an interesting world, and he had watched it go by as they were delivered to the Palace, it didn’t matter that he was flying in a Santhe Challenger (Thanks, Santhe!) if no one got to see it. Marek was hopeful that maybe he could talk a little business while he was here and see what sort of rewards that would get. Hell, Bright Star did cater, and it could bring tourists to Bastion. So long as the Primeval didn’t eat them.

Maybe he wasn’t going to stay over night.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

When Captain Vaiden asked Tmoxin to the Primeval event located on the fortress planet of Bastion, she was only a little surprised. Not since an encounter she had with a certain ship mogul at another formal ball on Dilbana had she been this attracted to someone. When the Captain interviewed her to join his fleet as ground commander for the Scourge’s thousands of troops, she felt the acute chemistry between them so of course, declining the invitation wasn't an option.

The Hapan officer didn’t really know much about these allies, only that they were somewhat of a religious sect. She hoped her long slate grey dress wasn’t too risqué for their host as it had one long strategically placed cut out in the front.

Spoiler

Captain Vaiden was refreshingly out of uniform which was the first time she had seen him in non-military clothing. He looked very handsome and when he picked her up he had brought her this small flower bouquet which was an unexpected touch for the normal fleet commander who was all-business. She took one of the purple flowers and tucked it behind her ear.

When the Captain and Tmoxin finally exited the starport they would be surrounded by his personal guards, imposing Novatroopers in black and gold armor. In the speeder limousine Commander Temi searched for champagne and two glasses.

“I propose a toast. To a fruitful partnership aboard the Scourge,” she said smiling. The champagne was heady and she sipped it slowly trying not to drink too fast. She felt a large measure of protection with Vaiden who could probably take on a couple of Republic soldiers with nothing but his fists, but she knew that everywhere the both of them went, they would now be targets. Why kill just one high-ranking officer when you could now kill two with one clear shot?

The speeder, troops and the rest of their entourage stopped at the Palace entrance and Tmoxin and Hans made their way to the grand entranceway. Commander Temi examined the flimsiplast invitation and leaned into the Captain, whispering in his ear: “Public execution in the garden. I wonder if it’s another Admiral?”

[member="Hans Vaiden"]

 

[Hans Vaiden]

Only luck was the main factor in Hans being able to court such a fine specimen of a woman to this outing. With her slender, curvy figure pressed against his in the speeder coupled with glasses of champagne and electricity in the air, this was bound to be one hell of a party. Smiling, the Captain clinked his glass with hers and downed almost half of the thing in a single gulp. He didn't exactly plan on drinking too much, so it was best not to waste what he'd already opened.

"To partnership," he agreed.

Regardless of his style of attire or not, he was still a gentleman. Once the landspeeder made its arrival at the palace, Hans was only second to the honor guard in stepping out of the motorcade. He helped his date out of the speeder with a gentle touch and then they were off to seek out their hosts and the rest of their esteemed colleagues and delegates. Abruptly, Tmoxin pressed herself to his form and brought her lips to his ears.

He grinned. "Let's hope they are. Maybe I can finally get that promotion."

The Captain managed to catch the attention of the guard detail's commander, his rank signified with an ornate shoulder pauldron. A slight, curt nod was all he offered. Hans held his arm out for his lovely lady to grasp as they walked, and then they were off.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Some birds just aren't meant to be caged...

Cryax Bane, slicer, a member of a tightly-knit group of criminal masterminds who comprised the Coruscant Rotary Club, a secretive, criminal syndicate that terrorized the multi-leveled sectors of the Coruscant underworld, was one of those birds. He was a man formerly known as a Red Raven, the President of the Red Ravens Criminal Syndicate, even. That was until he turned on his own organization, slicing into their encrypted networks, networks he himself knew like the back of his hand, and siphoning millions of credits from their business accounts. In addition, the disgruntled Chiss unleashed a destructive computer virus and made off with sensitive defense secrets of the red birds which he promptly leaked to the One Sith. In other words, he didn't give his two weeks notice.

With a rather large bounty on his head, the Chiss did not plan to cash in on any frequent hyperspace miles anytime soon, choosing to stay hidden deep in the Coruscant Undercity where he licked his wounds and replaced the slicers that his former coworkers had slaughtered on Nar Shaddaa. The Undercity treated him as kindly as a hellhole of crime and degradation could, welcoming him with open arms, like a prodigal son. He had the protection of the One Sith, shiny new credits lining his exquisitely tailored suit pockets, and no one to tell him he couldn't drown himself in spice and dancers.

Cryax came to Bastion, not only to drink and dine with the pro-Sith contingent of the galaxy but mostly as a representative of the CRC, with plans to keep an interested eye on their slave auction, in case he could pick up some product to traffic through Coruscant. Of course, public executions were always worth a trip, especially since he anticipated that he would have an enemy or two among the damned.

Dressed in a gold and black three-piece suit from the new collection of an up-and-coming Coruscanti fashion designer, the elusive Chiss made his way to the throne room of the Imperial Palace. He helped himself to a drink and circulated, glowing red eyes searching for new contacts for the CRC, perhaps a Sith Lord that needed a new kidney or better yet, a garbage vessel full of Force sensitive acolytes.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Marek Starchaser"] [member="Bestala Vizsla"]

 

[Zak Dymo]

At the grand entry to the Imperial Palace, the young Pantoran monk had volunteered his time. As guests arrived, the purple-haired youth had a smile and a warm greeting as he offered directions. And, of course, reading material about the Primeval religion should anyone so choose to reject heresy and accept the Four-Fold Truth. He didn't expect to have many takers for that offer, but many were created -- few are chosen. Such were the words of Halrormalenth, as recorded in the fourth verse of the seventeenth sutra of the Prophecy of Dai-mon S'aytb. New Dying Translation.

Dressed plainly in his usual white tunic, which contrasted against the boy's powder blue skin, it was entirely possible that he would be ignored or dismissed as the help. But therein lay the youth's comfort zone. To hide in plain sight. If he could do that, and help people from getting either waylaid or lost, then so much the better.

And, if he could do so while evangalizing the truth that was eternal then that which was lost might yet be found.

Besides, a ball had little interest for the boy. Though the night's festivities certainly inspired more enthusiasm. One event in particular which help some promise. An offering to Old Gods. To those who would seek Their Name, there was an everlasting promise. To live is Primeval, and to die is gain. But to those who would strike the Gods, profane the work of their Prophet...

For both the believer and the unbeliever, the coming of Balagoth was certain. And to which one would pass was all the reason for the heretic to fear death. But, there would be time enough for such offertory prayers in the time to come. In the immediate, the boy smiled, spoke politely, and told people where to check their cloak or find the main ballroom.

 

[Vrag]

To say that Vrag wasn't made for parties, balls or soirees of any kind would be a severe understatement, of course. At the very mention, at the very possibility of being caught dead at one of these things, the woman would shudder, kick back a shot of something strong and proceed to avail herself of such nightmarish thoughts by slaughtering a few training droids.

And then there were parties.

They were events, one could say, that only dubbed themselves with the deceiving name 'party' to lull the invitees into a false sense of security, unveiling their true nature only once the naïve guest found themselves in the clutches of its preying claws. Most people would be offended — and most likely even disturbed — at the notion of attending a public execution with some wining and dining on the side, but Vrag wasn't most people. According to the Republic, she probably wasn't even people.

Which would be relevant if she cared what the Republic thought, but the woman was quite unburdened by their opinion at that moment. No, the Hand of the Dark Lord strolled through the front doors with far more spring in her step than should be healthy or normal for somebody who's about to witness the cold-blooded murder of Force knows how many individuals who may very well have committed no crimes at all.

Then again, the party was thrown by a ruthless Host Lord, leader of Crusades and genocides in the name of faceless and forgotten gods, and the guests were more or less the same thing under a different brand. What did you think they were going to do? Have a tea party and chat about the weather?

Not that Vrag was entertaining any such musings as her polished boots echoed down the hall, blue eyes taking in her surroundings with that particular type of 'interest' that was mostly about finding potential exits and hiding spots should anything go awry at the ball. The one thing that she took solace in in this whole thing was that hardly anybody would actually recognize her. Few were the people who had seen her without some sort of armor on, and fewer still were those that had gazed upon her face. A peculiar sort of anonymity, perhaps, but the firrerreo was going to exploit it to its fullest for as long as she could. The suit she was wearing would probably help too, come to think of it. It looked fitted to her measures by the hand of an expert, a smooth black that tuxedo that showed off her form in all the right places without revealing too much. Beneath that was a simple white blouse with the top button open to allow just a hint of cleavage to any pair of wandering eyes.

Her most expensive — and attractive — accessory that evening, however, was the handsome man on her arm. Dressed in a similarly well-tailored suit, the former Jedi looked far less comfortable with his being there, his visage one of misery and apathy engaged in a dance for dominance even as he was dragged along by a heedless Vrag.

"Relax, Hal," the woman said without glancing back at him, "we're here to have fun."


[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

It had been far too long since she’d had an excuse to dress up (at least, more dressed up than usual, unabashedly vain), and an even longer stretch of time since she’d gone out with [member="Jared Ovmar"]. She had always affectionately referred to him as her ‘old Master’ even back in the beginning. Now it rang decidedly true, a man who’d discovered time was relative also living proof to his exploration – he’d gone all salt and no pepper while Matsu had aged only a little over a decade since they’d met. He was always full of surprises.

Granted, they were both there in their own capacity. Ovmar had his reasons for attending this ball, and Xiangu hers. From a professional prospective the One Sith and the Primeval had formed a working relationship that was hugely beneficial to both parties – as a representative of the former, she would gladly attend as proof the Primeval was valued. But on a personal level she admired them. She’d found a home more than comfortable in Sith space, a nest of violence and pleasure she made her own. But the faction hosting this get-together had clawed their way up, fought for everything. She could respect that. And she’d heard much and more of their leader – Matsu would like to meet her.

Fingers wrapped delicately in the skirt of her dress lest razor-sharp heels pierce the fine fabric, she stepped from the well-guarded ship that transported the two of them to their destination. She’d read through the invitation a few times and although she wasn’t much for slaves, the promise of a public execution and some good wine more than piqued her interest. She had very expensive taste, but she assumed no expense would be spared. Looking up, she took in the towering façade of the palace before them as they approached the entrance, lacing an arm through Jared’s. “Maybe this time you can get me a drink and not torture me after,” she teased, that this wouldn’t be a laughing matter for most people flying right over her high ponytail. This time she'd be the one doing the torturing.

 

[Disciple]

Ball?

Meet high Sith society.

High Sith society?

Meet old man. Exceptionally old man. Crypt air old. Except this individual didn't look old in the slightest. Dressed in an old, battered Imperial uniform that had gone out of style centuries ago, his black leather boots clicked delicately on the floor. They were overshadowed, however, by the clacking of a cane that supported the limping individual. Favoring his left leg, paranoid eyes scanning the local.

Said individual hadn't arrived so much as appeared, and the bone ridges that were the harsh lines of his chin and the brow of his eyes denoted him as old Sith. True Sith. The sort that had long since gone 'extinct.' Blinking amber eyes slowly, he felt his eye twitch.

Why was he here?

He didn't know. Quite literally, Disciple wasn't sure. The galactic winds deposited him where they saw fit, and so here he was.

He sniffed the air. Death hung on the faint breeze gusting through the palace. Yes... this was a confluence of sorts. Powerful Sith would meet here. Probably play nicer than they ever should. And he would be there to ruin it.

Just as he'd always been. A hand came to settle on the head of the small boy to his left. "Welcome, child." He says in a raspy voice leaden with the phlegm of sickness. Coughing violently into the crook of his elbow, he smiled dangerously. "The games begin."

 

[Sitara Qin]

There was nothing that appealed to her more than getting drunk and having a great time. Of course, Tara didn't want to seem too eager; there were sophisticated aristocrats flying all over the universe and she wanted to save faced and preserve her dignity tonight. However, if she managed to wake up in the arms of a handsome sith lord, that would be fine too. She contained her excitement, taking a small sip of wine to calm her nerves. She didn't want to drink too much, she still wanted to interact with the other guests after all. Plus, according to the invitation, they were in for a long night of fun and excitement. Drinking, jedi getting executed, and a sleepover? She felt like she was twelve again.

The shuttle halted in front of the Imperial Palace. She stepped out, taking a moment to admire the lavishness of the whole scenario. She was dressed in a black bandage dress the stopped a few inches above her knees. Her dark hair was curled, and cascaded over her shoulders. Her red painted lips curled into a smile as she gripped onto her small clutch and entered the palace through the entrance hall.

Perhaps she was simply naive. It was excusable, she was young. Although socially awkward, the thought of having a monumental night comforted her. She was one of them. She was daunting, daring, brave and at the same time she was still a little naive. They were draped in beautiful fabrics, the men dressed in suits that made accented their charm.

It excited her. It made her head spin. Her youth was showing in this sense. Although she liked to think she was well travelled and knew so much about the world around her, she was still a naive girl. A child who did what she wanted for her own pleasure. Perhaps this was why she was called into the dark side.

She didn't recognize anyone. Was she the only one from her academy who had gotten an invite. She smirked, scoping the room for anyone who seemed the least bit familiar. There were definitely people of high importance here, none of them she'd know personally.

She found herself getting thirsty. Perhaps she needed a drink.

 

[Zak Dymo]

The hair stood up on the back of the boy's neck.

He could feel it. A cold that was not physical. A presence that was not yet manifest. The Dark Side. Like a charge of static electricity, it was invisible as it traced a path through the room. And the Pantoran monk feared that by the time he was aware of it, that it was already too late.

A hand settled on the top of his head. Training and discipline kept the boy from reacting, even as shivers ripped through the whole of body like great tremors.

He'd pickedpocketed the ghettos of Coruscant. He'd studied the ways of the Dark Side, learning to be invisible in plain sight or to perceive that which was beyond sight. And, yet, now there was a looming figure standing over him... and Boo would never have been the wiser if not for the hand that had reached out and touched him.

There was something effortless, almost inconsequential, about the gesture. And that made an already frightening presence even more terrifying.

Steeling his nerves, the azure tween turned to look at forboding presence as he was bid welcome. Which seemed wholly odd, considering that Boo was the one doing the welcoming. At least, that's how it had been going thus far tonight. Not knowing what else to say, or even what species he was even addressing, the boy politely dropped his eyes as he bowed. "My lord," he answered in as neutral and smooth of a voice as he could managed. If he was lucky, the people of Lothal wouldn't be able to hear his teeth chattering.

"The games begin."

An odd statement, as he straightened back up, the young monk thought about it for a moment before flashing the stranger a smile. "The games never end, my lord."

Was not the Starmaker's light eternal? The light transformed in all manner of shade and color, intesity and shadow. So it had always been. So it would remain.

In the meantime, hopefully Darth WhereTheKarkDidHeComeFrom would check his cloak, get a drink, and put at least a parsec of distance between the two of them.

---

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Corey's OOC]

Humming along to the music, Marek was perusing the crowd, not particularly using the Force, if he really needed to bend the way the galaxy worked, he could probably pay someone to do that for him. Still, he was there, able to use the Force, just in case. But here? Among the Primeval and all the Sith in attendance? Yeah, he was going to keep that concept on the down low, not that he ever hid his Force presence. Hell, he didn’t even know how he’d do that.

Starchasers weren’t particularly strong in the Force.

Adjusting his tie and jacket, he figured now would be a time for a drink and made his way to the bar. They could liven up the music here, something with a bit more electronic sound, but he understood how this group worked. A bit more religious or something. That was fine for him, so long as they didn’t try to convert his whole nation. Not that he figured they would. And no, it wasn’t because [member="Sitara Qin"] was over to the bar, but well, she did catch his eye and he would try to cut in and pay her round, if she was heading to the same bartender he was.

Gentlemanly and all.

He was still looking to see who he knew, someone to break the ice, but failing that, he'd break his own ice.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

Bastion

Cavill hadn't visited he world in years, the last time had been with his father when he was fourteen years old. Lanky, awkward, and innocent; the world had frightened him. Serreno was a dark world, but Bastion had ate at his soul. The voices he could hear in his mind, and the shadows that had follow him as his father conducted business had terrified him. It never seemed to leave during those few hours, despite how hard he tried to avoid it and pretend it wasn't there. Man a joke had been spared at his expense in the weeks that bad followed. It had been enough to leave a mark on the boy, the mark of knowledge.

The knowledge that the true darkness was within him, not on that planet.

Standing tall, proud, and muscle bound at the age of thirty-three years old on the same world; many things were apparent. Many credits had been spent on the celebrations that he had little idea about. Kryptus had simply answered his holo-messages for the first time in over six years, and this party was the last thing that had been sent. Questions blazed through his mind, how did they even know I had survived the rapture? Or that I would have have shown myself after so long?

Handsome features hid the boiling cauldron that was his mind. His simple lightsaber was hidden in a pocket in the onyx suit he wore. The tailor had outdone himself on this creation . No expense had been spared, and the audible gasps he heard had more to do with his appearance than with who he actually was. Simple silk and cloth made up the ensemble, with the exception of the lightsaber he bad brought. Threats were everywhere around him as he walked into the palace. Daesumnor didn't make it past the security inspection, but the saber was at best a tool.

Kryptus was the real weapon, and judging by the looks some of his fellow Sith and the Primeval were giving him they knew his abilities. Confidently pushing his hair back, he let his natural charm show through as he entered the main party. Guards checked flimsiplast invitation before letting him pass without a security check.

Either they know me or they are smart, he mused. "Now where can I get a drink," he said to no one as he headed toward the nearest bar.

[member="Sitara Qin"] @Disciple @Matsu Xiangu @Vrag @Boo Chiyo [member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Marek Starchaser"] [member="Bestala Vizsla"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Disciple]

There was a pause as Disciple ran a dry, cracked tongue over his pallid lips. In truth, he'd hardly given notice to the boy at his side. He'd just registered it subconsciously and apparently acted accordingly. Disciple had long been aware of his effect on those around him. Cold terror was an apt descriptor. There was something to be said about the unpredictable ones. A great grin split the red features of the Sith.

A predators grin. Now he actually, visibly, acknowledged the boy in a manner other than passing. Breath as fetid and stale as a sealed tomb in the deserts of Korriban washed outward, carrying with it a faint noise of deep, erotic exhalation.

Disciple felt his shoulders quiver.

"No, no they don't." Inhaling quickly, he wet his lips again. Or at the very least attempted to before he smoothed the front of his dress uniform. His attention was gone from the boy almost immediately, his eyes settling momentarily on [member="Jacen Cavill"]. "Just... beginning." The absent nature of his words and the faint, mischievous under-his-breath cackle that followed were lost in the double click of boot heal and cane.

Limping away, Disciple made his way deeper into the festivities.

Oh yes, today was a good day.

[member="Boo Chiyo"]

 

[Aster Jen'allé]

*Destiny arrived to the ball. She felt claustrophobic, all of these organics milling around, their eyes penetrating past her human layer to see the mechanics found underneath. She felt isolated, off in a corner, she would be alone for most of the night.*

 

[Hal Terrano]

The towering structures of Bastion were less rigid than one Hal Terrano.

He was not designed for parties, sinister or otherwise. For over three decades the concept of fun and entertainment was more than just taboo. Yes, the denizens of the Galaxy were permitted to enjoy their lives but not he, he was there to protect it and that was that. The line in the sand.

In his youth he had once been sent to oversee a music festival, the affectionately dubbed 'Paddy Patrol', reserved for Jedi missions where there was likely to be minimal danger.

Needless to say, he didn't enjoy his time. It was too loud, and the festival goers lacked too much inhibitions for his tastes. Nonetheless the young man had made sure that there were generous scoldings given out for those who wanted to party harder than the others. Of course, all of that quickly fell to the background because it was there, at that festival where he first met…

...no.

Swiftly the man pushed down any rising thoughts of a particular woman. He didn't need to be self-cannibalising alongside his blatant discomfort.

His free hand moved to fidget with one of his cufflinks. What were the point in these? Small metal insignias bearing the brand of the One Sith, they seemed to have no function and only provided a sense of mockery at his own expense.

He felt wrong, out of place and restricted. Terrano had never worn anything but robes in his life and now here he was in a well-tailored suit that felt restricting in comparison. In design his tuxedo matched that of his maker tormentor, only in the place of a white blouse was a red shirt. Symbolism? Who knows, such a thing was lost on poor Hal.

When she told him to relax, a small grumble escaped the back of his throat. His eyes, forlorn, staying strictly glued to the floor. That was about as much resistance as the man was going to provide on the matter.

“Fun,” he repeated slowly, as if he were unsure of the word itself.

---

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Location: Imperial Dungeons, behind the Palace

"Get in there you brute," Perla said using her entire body to push the hind end of a giant bull rancor into the dungeon pit where the beast would be stored until battle. Xana was her mount, a creature she had tamed on the windy plains of Dathomir near the Dreaming River. It had taken hours to get the reptomammal under her control and she still had scars on her hand where the female rancor had chomped into her flesh.

Of course, none of the prison guards were brave enough to help her install Xana into her new enclosure. Cowards all of them! Sure they had wanted to wrassle her in there with stun devices, neuronic whips and chains, but the witch initiate would have none of that. Xana was still healing from a brutal attack by a male rancor and the beast needed time to recover. It was already traumatic enough that Xana had ridden alone in a dark cargo hold, contraband to be moved from Dathomir to Bastion by a savvy smuggler.

Finally the beast relinquished her stubborn demeanor and shambled into the enclosure, promptly laying down to sleep. "I'll be back for feeding time," said Perla, knowing that Xana's dinner would be two unfortunate prisoners marked for death.

But now she went to get ready for the Bastion ball. The Host Lord wanted Perla to give guests a tour of the Imperial Dungeons which gave her little time to linger over party preparations as she knew that Sith Lords and Ladies were already arriving. She showered quickly and dressed in the guards quarters, a simple unadorned black dress, more utilitarian than lavish:

Spoiler

Besides she would be shuttling back and forth during the night to hub of misery and pain that were the Imperial Dungeons. It wasn't as if she needed to dress up in a ballgown to give the dignitaries a VIP tour of the torture chambers, Force Cages and yes, even Xana's giant underground rancor enclosure.

 

[Zak Dymo]

The presence of Darth CreepMeOut lingered, it's chill passing through him almost as though he were standing out on the frozen tundra in naught but his underwear. At the same time, the man's visage was almost enchanting for the terror it invoked. He spoke with a voice like that of war, of famine, and of pestilence. Death lingered, an almost tangible aura around the mysterious figure. Perhaps it was some trick of the mind, but Boo would have sworn that he smelled blood.

"Now where can I get a drink."

Distracted, the young monk's eyes turned to spy a man who was truly massive as humans went. Almost a solid two meters in height, his muscular form not well hidden by the fine clothing he wore. The man's attitude was certainly more in line with the object of what seemed the Prophet's intended atmosphere for the evening's entertainment. It was without a doubt more clearly articulated than the enigmatic comments of the Phantom Sith standing next to the blue-skinned boy.

"No, no they don't," the strange presence uttered, leaving the tween's side with the same casual detachment as he'd first appeared. The strange figure was headed toward the large human. Boo would have helped point them toward the bar serving refreshments, but it seemed that the human needed no prompting to find the servitor.

As soon as he was out from the shadow of the unquestionable Sith Lord, the boy gave a sigh of relief. Straightening the front of his tunic, the youth adjusted the religious tracts in his hands and then turned to resume his work as a guide. Shaking out his limbs, the boy tried to rid himself of the residual goosebumps which lingered even after the SIth Lord had departed his company.

Golden eyes scanned the crowd that was beginning to assemble inside the grand palace. He'd almost missed the brunette standing in the corner by herself. Doing a double take, the youth took a second look as though to confirm that she was indeed by herself and not merely waiting on someone. She almost seemed lonely, even though she was in the presence of a multitude of people.

Crossing toward her, the boy bowed his respects to the Prophet's guest. As he straightened back up, the Pantoran politely asked, "Are you finding everything all right, my lady?"

---

[member="Disciple"] [member="Destiny"] [member="Jacen Cavill"]