Faction The Coronation Ball [First Order | Invited Guests]

[Jaeger Harrsk]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
T A L K I N _ H A W K I N
THE_BOYS | Irveric Tavlar | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Robogeber
​

Jaeger was impressed then, during the talks, but it certainly hit him now. Jaeger was rarely a man to be surprised, rarely did his expectations deviate from reality so starkly. Surely, both the First Imperials and the New Imperials held the idea of imperialism at their core but there was a clear difference in how it manifested; where the New Imperials carved a robust, almost spartan visage, the First Imperials chiseled to the finest detail. The war-torn worlds, some scorched by the genocidal Sith, drowning under the sweat of the worker diligently rebuilding brick by brick; here - the gentle and refined touch of a maestro architect. Where the smoky heights of industrial concerns hyper expanded across the horizon, here the rolling green hills and perfected masonry preserved a sanctity the galaxy had seemingly lost and perhaps forgotten. A look at the stark difference between the Supreme Leader and the Sovereign Imperator told one as much.

It was only natural. Where the First Imperials traced their heritage to nobility, the New Imperials traced it to militants.

Traitors.

And they wore the label with pride. For no price to bring the dawn of the Iron Sun was too high to pay.

Dressed in his uniform, the only actual uniform he had and one he despised due to its lack of comfort, he stepped out of the vehicle behind the Sovereign Imperator. Jaeger Harrsk adjusted his unruly hat and quickly reached for his front pocket. Snatching a cigarette from the pack inside, he lit the roll and welcomed the relief.

The shapers of the galaxy had been all gathered here. They might not know him but he certainly knew them well.

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

G R A N D _ V I Z I E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
J U S T _ A _ M A N
Jaeger Harrsk | Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Robogeber
OPEN TO INTERACTION | SHOOT A PM

​

Time after time, Tyrell repeatedly bore witness to things he'd never imagined. Exile felt like it was only yesterday. Now he was rubbing shoulders with individuals with whose boots he wouldn't have been fit to lick only a handful of years ago. Now would soon find himself a guest at the resurgent First Order's coronation.

What a time to be alive.

The First Order's taste in celebration was certainly far more extravagant than the New Order's. Where the New Imperial flavor of celebration was measured, muted, and intense, the First Imperial's favored a loud, opulent, and lavish. It spoke volumes of both sides, but not negatively either way. Even in kin, there is a contrast.

Tyrell emerged laboriously from the motorcade vehicle that had transported them. His departure and ascent towards the castle entrance were announced by the distinct tap of his cane.

Alongside the rest of the New Imperial party and their matching shades of gray, Tyrell crossed the palace threshold. The force dampening sensation was immediately apparent. It was a strange feeling, certainly not one he'd experienced before. He was informed this would be the case, and though he anticipated it being a relief- It wasn't.

Even with this staunched connection, he could still feel. Something dark, old, and sinister lingered nearby. Not even the oppressive constriction of the dampeners could hold this presence down entirely. Tyrell knew it was Darth Carnifex almost as soon as he noticed it. It was hard not to be at least a little affected by such proximity. Nothing would happen here, Tyrell was certain that it was all enough to dissuade just about anyone from disruptive behavior. But that didn't solve the forceborne sensation of subtle terror that lingered in the atmosphere just as clearly, to him at least, as the smell of burning cigars.

Was it a surprise that The First Order, in their desire for positive galactic relations, would have invited the Sith?

“So lost in the moment, unable to see the bigger picture.”​

Tyrell scowled to himself, scoffing quietly. It was all irrelevant, at least for tonight. Impressions are what mattered now, not an existential conflict over the guestlist.

One glance graced the direction of the New Imperial party before Tyrell began a stride across the venue. He couldn't help but be a little shifty-eyed, but he did his best to retain a visual facade of total composure. Any other day, the Grand Vizier only accepted drinks when offered to be polite.

This wasn't just any day, for better or worse.

Tap, click, pain. Tap, click, pain. Tap, click, pain. For the beverages, he treads.

HOUSE PAXXUS
GUEST OF HOUSE TAVLAR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER​

 

[Bellam Malhan]

Ballroom
Phoenix Edorath
​

If his black uniform wasn't stifling yet, it would be soon. Not everyone was here to be seen. Sure, there was plenty of security outside, but there needed to be more inside. And for all the displays of strength, hiding them in plain sight as welcomed guests from the nearest military base was as passable cover as one could come up with. Besides, he was a Staff Sergeant - and beyond that, a tank commander. It was an underappreciated fact that they weren't always in tanks, and this 'security' assignment was as cushioned as it got.

Smoothing down his black jacket and knowing it messed up his tie in the process, he nevertheless found his dark eyes appreciating the uniform he was so blessed to wear. It was a sharp look, he thought. But then again, what young military man wasn't all ego in his dress uniform?

Scanning the expanse of the ballroom with a practiced eye, he ran his tongue across the front of his teeth and then pinched the right side of his lower lip. It was all set up, and he was sure his date was around here somewhere. Caz Ozzel had a friend in the assault troops, and that friend knew someone looking for their own date.

Or perhaps 'cover' was the better term. He'd only been given the name, and a one word description - 'Green.'

Knowing Caz, he was about to be arm candy for a Rodian. Bastard.

 

[Ben Craig]

Ben Craig
Deputy Director of Blackwatch
Admiral of the First Fleet ; CEO of N&Z Umbrella Corporation ​

Location: Rosewood Castle, South of Avalonia, Dosuun, First Order Space
Objective: 1
Dress: Link , Blackwatch armband on left arm
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim , Tristan Evore

​

The First Order, successor to the Galactic Empire. Once a great nation that had fallen, but appeared to be back and stronger than before. The shuttle descended through the atmosphere and gently touched down amongst other expensive looking craft. With a hiss from the hydraulics, the ramp lowered and Ben walked out into the cool fresh air. "Ah, the smell of Imperialism. How refreshing." He stated to no one in particular.

"Er-Mr. Craig from the Eternal Empire?" Ben slightly frowned, "Yes, that is in fact me." The welcome committee, cheerful as always. The aid motioned towards a hover car waiting nearby. He nodded and proceeded to follow the nice looking lady. Several stormtroopers followed them to the motorcade.

"Nice set up you've got here. Taxpayer money?" He stated to the diplomatic representative opposite of him. She said nothing except smile. He grunted disapprovingly. The motorcade proceeded through the city, then after what seemed like a decade, entered into a country side where their destination awaited.

Ben looked out the window and noted the simply magnificent architecture of the castle. A former architect, he had respect for what the builder had done. A mixture of modern and classical tones and styling. Anyone would know who controlled the land, large bold flags with the First Order's emblem were placed everywhere. Apparently someone had a bigger ego then he did, which was surprising to Ben.

The motorcade came to a stop at the entrance of the castle and Ben stepped out taking a moment to survey his surroundings. Other hover cars were arriving with VIPS. He noticed Empress Ingrid L'lerim and former Grand Admiral Tristan Evore up ahead of him. He wasn't sure what rank the grand admiral held within the Empire.

Ben made his way up the grand steps and entered the building, making his way over to the grand admiral. Along the way, he noticed several key figures from other various "Imperialist" organizations such as THE man himself, Irveric Tavlar , Darth Carnifex , and several other individuals.

 

[Salamander]

Messala lingered at the entrance just long enough to witness the arrival of Natasi Fortan herself, sitting atop a cloud of sky-blue tulle embroidered with flowers and vines. Well, really she was wearing said cloud, but sitting atop it sounded cuter.

Turning to his companions, Messala said, “If you need me, I’ll be at the bar.” Without waiting for any acknowledgement from Onrai or TE-236 , he drew his cloak about him and headed for the Red Rose.

The place was packed primarily with dignitaries too stiff and starched for dancing, along with a few lonely hearts. He walked past Allyson Locke , fulfilling the role of the long cool woman in a black dress that seemed to haunt every bar this side of the Core, on his way to the counter. His eyes admittedly lingered on her exposed back just a little too long, until the arrival of Amea Virou forced him to tear his gaze away. Agent Locke? This is not the woman you’re looking for, Messala. Move along.

Someone cleared their throat. Messala turned to find himself staring into the face of the bartender, a bull-like fellow who looked like he’d been wrangled into his tuxedo. His unimpressed expression probably had a lot to do with Messala’s dark hood making him look less like an intimidating Sith Lord and more like Evil Kermit in the barroom’s warm yellow lighting, but then Carnifex himself was here. How was he to compete with such a soul-crushing and seemingly effortless Dark aura? Why, Carnifex had trademarked the Sith brand long before Messala came along.

“Akivan Liqueur,” Messala ordered from the list of drinks.

A couple of minutes later, the bartender set a glass of the lavender liqueur in front of him. Said glass promptly disappeared under Messala’s hood as he took a sip, then sighed in contentment. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a woman ordering absinthe here, would you?”

The bartender shrugged. “Not too many people order that. It’s pretty obscure. Only people I’ve seen drinking absinthe are Shi’ido and junkies.”

“All the more likely to remember if someone did ask for it.” Messala took another sip. “Tell you what, boss. If anyone orders absinthe this evening, would you be so kind as to inform me of their arrival?” His gloved hand slid across the bar, credits hidden underneath his palm. “The name’s Arrius Messala. Only don’t mention a word of it to the lady. Wouldn’t want her getting spooked.”

Raising an eyebrow at the revealed credits, the bartender took the money and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “I’d be happy to, sir.”

“Thanks.” Downing the rest of the glass, Messala plucked the sprig of lavender that had been placed in it for decoration and promptly took a bite out of the purple flowers. He turned away from the bar, heading for the ballroom, where he heard the beginnings of a waltz.

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

​

AVALONIA​

Ariel was quiet in her car, she sat alone, and rather than enjoying the festivities, she looked at the work that would need to be done. Her car wasn't too far behind Natasi's but it may as well have been as the motorcade she rode in merged into traffic. Gone were the sterling buildings and towering skyscrapers of the city. The countryside revealed before her through the windows of the car, night had fallen and the stars appeared to shine ever so brightly. Fireworks and celebrations were had throughout the city, Ariel's gaze moved away from the tablet she had been focused on.​

​

It was a beautiful sight to behold she thought.​

​

Not so long ago Avalonia was in ruins and there was little hope to be had at all. Now here they were, celebrating Natasi Fortan the newly crowned Supreme Leader of the First Order. Hope, joy, and renewed faith in the First Order from the people could be felt throughout. Ariel was happy for them, and happy for her cousin. As Ariel's car approached the driveway she looked over at the seat beside her and grabbed her shawl. Security exited first, and then Ariel was helped out of the car. She wore an elegant dress for the evening, and was escorted into the ball.​

​

The herald would then announce.​

​

"Moff Ariel Yvarro, House Yvarro of the First Order."​

​

She was then discretely directed toward Natasi, but Ariel thought perhaps she would let her cousin have a moment alone. She surveyed the foyer a moment before stepping toward any of the vestibules. The New Imperial Order was rather distinct in their appearances, as was the former Emperor Carnifex. Her mother and step-mother were already there of that she could tell already recognizing them instantly as she decided that perhaps a drink wouldn't be too bad.​

​

Ariel headed for the Red Rose Bar and ordered a glass of Avalonian Rye Whiskey. She hadn't noticed that Allyson Locke and Amea Virou were nearby, but it wouldn't have bothered her in the slightest. She just needed something to calm her nerves and stop all the thoughts that ran through her mind. Most of them centered around work, and all the next steps they were going to be making back at Governance Row. Of course, she thought it would behoove her to pay attention to who was announced. She wanted to intercept Madelyn Lowe before her mother or Ryssa did. ​

​

Of course, she could always go searching for others to speak with, or go up and spend time with Natasi and watch the ball's from a safe distance. ​

 

[Onrai]

The intrigue of Vanessa Vantai led her to almost immediately be separated from those two who had come with her. She would keep an eye out on Salamander and TE-236 as the night went on, but for the time being it was necessary to mingle with the few individuals she felt were trustworthy in order to associate with at this event. Even her own company was doubted, for Vanessa had not known either of them for but a short period of time.

Thus, she went over to Ingrid L'lerim .

It was inevitable, she supposed, that she would gravitate towards the woman who had helped her eradicate the Night Spirit from Endor, who now subjugated the world with the Wizards of the Night Spirit as her allies and the profound primordial power she now possessed. Additionally someone close to her former apprentice was here, as well as a former associate of Messala - and an individual who had not proven too easy to contact when Vanessa had required his assistance in confirming what turned out to be Jacen Nimdok in disguise.

"A pleasure to see you again, Ingrid." She smiled, as her eyes trailed over to Adrian Vandiir. "And AMCO ... A hard man to get a hold of, but likewise, a pleasure to meet you for the first time." She offered him a hand to shake.

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
THE_BOIS | Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Lucien Dooku | Rowan Corde | Robogeber
A G A I N

​

Festivities such as this gave the impression of a temporary peace in the Galaxy. A ceasefire that will only last the night. It was interesting to box altogether leaders of their respective major power under a roof, knowing the clash of ideals would be inevitable yet it would be tamed in a passive aggressive manner. All for the sake of reputation and image. There would be fake smiles and forced laughter, attempts to keep the peace.

A false peace.

Out of respect for the newly found relationship with the First Order Imperials, the New Imperials came to the familiar city of Avalonia that Irveric and his delegation stayed not too long ago. The negotiations were a success resulting open communications and a mild mutual relationship between the two Imperial nations. To the New Imperials it was somewhat relieving to be able to find a genuine friend, a Galactic power that shared their ideals and struggles.

The party of the New Imperials departed from the motorcade, Irveric taking point whole being flanked by his trusted subordinates following suit all of them in matching grey, military uniform. Ascending the great exterior stairs of the castle the group entered the interior of the castle, being exposed to such luxury and grandeur. All of it was unfamiliar to the New Imperials. None of them hailed from any blood of Royalty, all of them were here now walking in these currents by fighting for it. Mere mortal men, creating their destinies.

For a strong man did not need to read the future; a strong man created his own future.

The Boss was the first before them to depart from the party, heading out without company towards the direction which seemed to be the bar. Tyrell followed suit, walking out his own venue, too.

Snake, too, would go his separate ways, yet he’d use this loud and vibrant scenario as a means to disguise his intentions of networking with the invitees. The works of espionage.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The party was as extravagant as he expected.​

​

Fine food, fine drink, and opulence infecting every corner of the gathering. Men and women from all corners of the galaxy were in attendance, their dresses shimmering like incandescent pearls. They consorted with one another with as many boisterous roars of laughter as hushed whispers of gossip. These were the elite beings of the galaxy who had, through one way or another, inherited or accumulated their wealth over long lifetimes, perhaps even successive generations, or shrewd political maneuvering and pragmatic business dealing. ​

​

Carnifex had assembled his wealth in a far more backhanded and vicious manner, through plunder and pillage. His early youth was fixated on skulduggery and ham-fisted thuggery. In his later years, he had refined his technique. The failures of past Empires allowed the Sith Lord to pilfer the coffers of his own disintegrating countrymen, leaving them with nothing as the broken foundation swallowed them up. Those funds had then been diverted to invest in new ventures, the latest being the current Sith Empire. Though he had placed many of his chips into this particular experiment, he did not rely on it completely.​

​

Snatching a drink from one of the waiters which patrolled the gathering, the former Emperor of the Sith spotted several of the new arrivals.​

​

New Imperials.​

​

New indeed, new in many senses of the word. He could feel their discomfort with the First Order's pageantry even from here, they were not accustomed to such things. Their austere nature was utterly anathema to the peers they now found themselves pressed into acquaintance with. As interesting as it would be to watch them flounder, Carnifex spied a much more appetizing individual to focus on.​

​

Moving through the crowd without much difficulty, indeed he seemed to melt through them rather than push them aside, the former Emperor made his way into Natasi Fortan 's presence.​

​

"Supreme Leader," Carnifex said with an inclination of his head and a toothy predatory grin, "Quite the celebration you have arranged, it makes me nostalgic for those rose-tinted days when I was but a mere guest of your boundless hospitality. It warms this old heart to see the First Order indulging in its traditions once again."​

 

[Robogeber]

E N T R A N C E​

It was a quaint feeling, to be perfectly frank. He had reimagined this moment a thousand times. Returning as a conquering victor. Maybe for pilgrimage. But never had he ever imagined a resurgent First Order. The automaton, as he strode through toward the palace, felt a certain trepidation. Perhaps he had been too... Conservative. The war he had fought from the Unknown Regions had been brutal. Unrelenting, in an attempt to cleave the invaders, Eternal, Outer Rim or otherwise from what had once been the homelands. And now? Now he had made his place far from home. Far from the rolling hills of Dosuun. Far from where it had been born. And he was trapped, leading but a skerrick of what had once been a proud war machine. But it was his skerrick. His men. And his mission upon which they followed.

The pangs of guilt radiated through the internal circuits of the droid as he strode forth. The Grand Admiral was of course attired in his holographic facade. The device in his abdomen which projected the outwards appearance of a bold, yet dignified officer. Carlyle Rausgeber stood in all the glory of his once human form. Neatly chiselled facial features, free from hair. A crisp, ivory uniform and flowing cape. But there was more to this than mere holographic trickery. The warlord of Prefsbelt IV stood tall and attentive his ruby, sapphire and gold rank plaque, and finally krayt leather boots. Ever the dignified, if not ostentatious figure. But finally, was perhaps the most important mark. Red, Pa'Deshi kyber crystal broach, emblazoned with the obsidian outline of the NIV Tregessar, and the symbol of Prefsbelt Command. A mark, and reminder at least for the COMPNOR contingent where the prodigal First Order son's loyalties now lay.

Now the Grand Admiral turned his attentions to his compatriots. Sovereign Imperator Tavlar, with his loyal number two, Tyrell Praxxus, and the indominable Jaeger Haask. The holographic facade licked its lips as it entered, eyeing his associates with some trepidation. "Perhaps," The droid mused with a palpable anxiety. Even weakness, "We should try to ingratiate ourselves with the First Order brass. Or alternatively, wet our whistles." He offered cautiously. "In any case, I dare say that the guest list on first glance is not precisely the friendliest."

"Let us make sure we are however, the most accommodating."

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The life of the posh and powerful had always left Joycelyn with something of a distaste. In the pursuit of power, she would admit that displays of wealth and power were useful. Yet the sheer decadence surrounding them, which they were expected to admire and mirror, ate away at Joycelyn's patience. She had, of course, dressed for the occasion in a form fitting dress of black and gold which plunged in the neckline and glittered in the light. Leaves of gold, wrought to resemble flames, nestled in her black hair as a subtle display of her position. A capelet of black, lined with bright red silk, and trimmed in the neck with light grey fur draped over her shoulders as she joined the procession of Sith Imperials entering the Coronation Ball.

Among them was she, the newly appointed Empress of the Sith Empire, the new Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Prazutis , and her father the Emperor Emeritus, Darth Carnifex

But many more Sith Imperials had secured their ticket to the event.

Then again, so had many others. There were faces in the crowd with whom she would generously describe the relationship with as "tense". And that was before she had seen any of the Silver Jedi Concord or Galactic Alliance representatives, not to mention the Mandalorians with whom the Sith had a recent, long and drawn-out conflict.

She really missed the weight of a weapon on her hip, but the Force was protection enough.

Despite the tensions, Joycelyn adorned herself with a practised air of civility and goodwill. She was not there to wrestle her opponents on the lawn, but to represent the present and future of the Sith Empire as a major player on the galactic stage. As such, she resigned herself to play by the rules and act with the utmost tact.

Not at the first, but the second chance she got, Joycelyn accepted a glass of sparkling wine.

 

[AMCO]

Location: Entrance, en route to Ballroom
Wearing: Ever-shifting Polyweave Suit
Writing With: Ingrid L'lerim | Onrai | [OPEN]
---

Nodding along, Adrian's reply was understanding and above all politely phrased, though his focus laid on their telepathic conversation. <Oh, certainly, but you know I take precautions; I feel far more naked without the Force than I do when I'm literally naked, after all.>

His senses remained more or less absent beyond its small sphere of influence, of course, but it was better than nothing.

Smiling broadly as she mentioned the various collections of lore he would have access to, Adrian leaned closer, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Are you trying to get me inappropriately excited, Ingrid? You know I have a weak spot for knowledge."

Attention shifting to Vantai upon her approach, he took her hand after a long moment's pause, his expression perfectly polite. "Ah, Ms. Vantai. I trust you were able to handle that ragtag band without my assistance? My duties keep me rather busy, you see, so much delicious science to oversee."

Truth be told, that little incident had little to do with his business and everything to do with hers. Her methods were, in his eyes, inelegant.

Besides, Inanna Harth was entirely insufficient for the Sith, at least so far as willpower went. He had seen cats with stronger minds.

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

AVALONIA​

Ariel hadn't a sip of her whiskey when one of the staffers of the event approached her. Kriff. The young woman looked at the glass of whiskey longingly and then back at the staffer. She grabbed the glass and showed it to the bartender. "I'll just... take this with me." As if she needed to tell him but then there was a thought of attempting to drink all of it right then and there or take her time with it. It wouldn't do to have a drunk host, or maybe it would who knew. Ariel instead simply held the glass as she worked her way through the bar and toward the ballroom, and up toward the orchestra section. She passed by her cousin Natasi Fortan and the once-Emperor Darth Carnifex while noting a few other people. Irveric Tavlar among them, along with other members of the New Imperial Orders.​

​

Including Lucien Dooku but Ariel hadn't even time to glance at him as security and staff moved her along. She only wish she had taken a friend up on the offer to have a small flask stored on her person. Instead, the young woman was brought up to where she would mostly be for the evening. At least in the early portion of it. Laan Kenmen had been the conductor of the First Order's Orchestra in events past so to see him again did bring a smile to Ariel's face. ​

​

The horns of the coronation march still played as people arrived, she spoke to Laan about the procedures of the opening ceremony. The march would end and there would be silence, enough for Ariel to gather the attention of those who were in attendance and give her speech as well as begin the official opening ceremony. From there she would introduce the conductor and allow him to move them into the first waltz. From where Ariel stood she could see much of the ballroom, and it was a good way to see the ongoings of the event. How people interacted with one another if they interacted with one another.​

​

Thus far none of the Silvers, or members of the Galactic Alliance had shown up, nor had the Confederacy.​

​

Ariel's heart sank momentarily, it would appear at least at the moment that old grudges were still being held. She sincerely hoped that that would not be the case as the evening went on. It spoke volumes to have not only confirmed attendance, and then to not attend at all. She pushed the thoughts out of her head as she nursed the glass of whiskey and took some relief as the alcohol worked its way down. It would be all that she had to calm her nerves and push out the negative thoughts that swirled in her mind.​

​

Tag: Caedyn Arenais | Noelle Varanin | Darth Metus | Adron Malvern | Srina Talon | Dracken Pryce | Adhira Chandra | Brama Tagge | Luna Terrik | @SJC/GA/CIS

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Although Natasi had financed the ball and its attendant finery, but it had been Ariel that had planned the affair, and it showed. She felt it would have been poor optics for the First Order to throw a party to celebrate her coronation when it was still recovering from its struggles against the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium, but she envied anyone with the intestinal fortitude to tell Ariell Yvarro she couldn't have a ball. Woe betide them. The affair was less Galidraani than Natasi would have chosen, the decor and the festivities more baroque than the typically understated Herevan grandeur, but Natasi didn't object. Let the youngsters have their fun, she thought.

As Darth Carnifex approached, the Supreme Leader inclined her head in greeting and smiled broadly at the towering man before her.

"Your Highness," she said, repressing the urge to offer a bow as she normally would. It would take some adjustment, being royal, she knew. In the First Order there was no higher authority than she, Natasi Fortan, and it would have been incorrect from an etiquette standpoint to bow to anyone, much less a foreign person. In some ways, despite her authority being near-absolute as Grand Moff, she had been performing a high-wire act. But then, her cabinet colleagues were empowered -- encouraged, even -- to reign her in if she ever went too far. They were a harness to keep her on the wire, and the Supreme Leader the safety net in case she would fall. Now, she was without either: there were Moffs on the council, but she couldn't imagine Ariel standing up to her, nor the others.

All this by way of saying that Natasi, for all her preparation and poise, found her instincts hard to shake. She cleared her throat and clasped her gloved hands before her waist. "Thank you for coming all this way. It's good to see you after so much time." This was set-dressing for anyone nearby, maintaining the fiction that Natasi had resurrected herself during Remembrance Week. It would spoil the illusion to know that she had had dinner with the Sith Emperor on Galidraan some few days before then. She snatched a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

"Yes, it is rather like the old days," Natasi conceded. "It's all Ariel's doing, you know. Not that I'm against it, mind. But I tend to live by the philosophy that being powerful, being royal, being strong is like being a lady. If you have to say you are, you aren't." She smiled wryly and lifted her glass to Carnifex. "After years of observing you, I suspect you have a similar feeling."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He allowed himself a small laugh, complimentary but not too boisterous to be unruly. ​

​

"You have a powerful asset in Ariel Yvarro, your Excellency. She is intelligent, determined, and vigorous in her devotion to the First Order. Such servants of the state are hard to come by, too often are minds clouded by greed and short-sighted vanity." Oh, the once-Emperor knew that all too well. The minds of lesser men were so easily bent to the tune of another cause, their sworn oaths so easily were forgotten. Dedication and perseverance to a cause greater than one's self was the ultimate challenge against their baser impulses, to determine whether or not they possessed the integrity to maintain the faith.​

​

And the faithless were abound in the galaxy.​

​

"When a king must remind others that he is king, is he truly a king? Or is he a jester? Power is not so often surface-level, your Excellency. The shimmering calm waters of an ocean can still conceal the darkest abyss." They moved slowly as they walked, practically elbow to elbow. It must be noted with which the familiarity at which they spoke, the ease at which conversation came to both of them. They were old colleagues, companions from an era where it was the First Order and the Sith Empire which reigned supreme as the two Imperial factions in the galaxy. There were far more Imperial factions now, but it was in the once-Emperor's estimation that the potency had been far too subdivided.​

​

He raised his own glass, offering Natasi the opportunity to clink her own against it.​

​

"A personal toast to the power of empire, your Excellency. May the First Order's reign stand for ten thousand years."​

​

Natasi Fortan ​

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

​

"We should dance, certainly, perhaps once they've begun ..." Elisea looked at the program, "one of the waltzes, I'm not sure that the opening ceremony has started." She flipped through the book and found the points of interest section, "well we could grab a drink, or maybe eat?" She wasn't sure what they should be doing at that moment but she was definitely happy to be there with her girlfriend. "Maybe we can go upstairs here and just sit and wait? Did you want something to drink."​

​

She gestured at the waiters and the seemingly floating trays of champagne and alcohol. "I'm happy to do whatever you wish." The Avalonian mentioned to the Echani. The crowd was certainly starting to build up, Elisea guided Nylea away from the entrance and into the ballroom where the Coronation March still played, "so how are you feeling now that you've been here for a few months now?"​

​

"We Imperials aren't all so bad, mhmm?"​

​

While there would certainly be political schemes about during the evening. Elisea's focus was just on Nylea for there was no where else she wanted to be than wherever Nylea was. Their story began on Monastery so long ago with the Order of the Sacred Lotus, that to be here sharing the moment together would have felt so foreign all those years ago. Elisea's fingers intertwined with Nylea's as they walked together.​

​

Nylea Apollodor ​

​

​

 

[Dea]

Late. Late. LATE!

The Herald was beside herself, having lost track of time getting into her dress which nearly seemed to blend in with her crystaline form to the point of making both her and the dress appear to be sculpted together. She was lost for a time in front of the mirror, examining herself and counting the individual crystal beads (4,756 to be precise) in an obsessive compulsive way. She didn't even let Onrai know that she was coming, having at first held onto stubborness at being seen by anybody, let alone in such a public manner.

But....curiosity won out in the end, plus the sudden want for company. She couldn't risk trying to eat and drink while she was there, for whatever she took in would be seen inside of her body, unable to be digested. That could cause some to lose their appetites.

It took some time, but she had managed to get onto one of the shuttles and was brought over to the castle. Everything looked different from the perspective of her new crystaline eyes. Some people radiated while others were covered in shadow.

Standing at the entrance, she denied the offer of being announced and instead looked amongst the crowd for her maker.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

"I could go for a bite to eat too, actually."

Kaalia couldn't blame Ishana for the way she felt about the big names of the Sith Empire. The same things that had caused internal conflict had affected her wife too, and trust was always difficult to impossible to regain. To this day Kaalia believed there was much work left to be done to further equalize the recognition given to Force users and non-Force users alike, but her days holding bureaucratic power were behind her. As a Sith married to a non-Force user, it had always put her in a position where she felt helpless to bring change to something that seemed so set in stone. To this day, she felt guilt over that.

Where the old First Order had let Kaalia down, the Sith Empire had let Ishana down. But she had to put those thoughts away for now; she simply didn't know what to do to change things. One thing she would always remember, though. She would never take her wife for granted.

"Lead the way, miala," the redhead responded as Ishana began making her way towards the buffet. There would without a doubt be an endless variety of foods fit for the highest circles, so there was much to look forward to. And knowing Ishana, she was more than likely even more excited to fill up a plate. The Balmorran enjoyed the simple things, and that always reminded Kaalia of what was truly important in life.

Ishana Pavanos ​

 

[Farah]

Tags| Open

The First Order’s name had begun to fade from the galaxy. Like all great galactic powers that rose and fell to the tempo of an ocean’s wave, their influence waned, retreating to Force knows where. The Sith Empire and The First Order had previously enjoyed friendly relations, but Farah didn’t think she’d hear of them again, aside from being a relic in the stories of war veterans. It was the nature of the galaxy, and it was not kind to those who fell from grace.

Sipping idly from a glass of red wine, she couldn’t help but marvel at how lavish the celebration around her was. A phoenix from the ashes, it was as if The Order had never waned from the galaxy at all. Big names from all around the galaxy, representatives from a multitude of well-known families and power complexes were in attendance, which hinted at The Order’s power.

Ever the skeptic, they’d piqued Farah’s curiosity.

“Here.”

She handed her glass to her date, a tall young man with long red hair and kindly features. @Lark’s demeanor contrasted sharply with her own harsh features.

Adjusting one of the straps of her black dress, she scanned their surroundings, trying to see if she could pick out anyone in particular. Besides Carnifex, and some of the Sith that were vaguely familiar to her, she didn’t recognize anyone else.

Farah didn’t get out much.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand, Lord Commander
The Red Witch; The Night Queen; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Rosewood Castle, South of Avalonia, Dosuun, First Order Space
Attire: Polyweave Elegant dress | Soul
Tag: AMCO | Onrai | Open

The red-haired woman used to have an “antidote” to this as well, she also had an empyrean gland, but when she changed on the Endor, this artificial organ fell out of her. Exactly when she gained a semi-smoky shape. She hasn't had an empyrean gland since, because if she had regained her new natural shape, it would have gone the same way as the first. Regardless, she already understood why her fiancé felt more naked without the Force than without clothes. And she was definitely not happy about that.

~ Yes, now I am starting to feel the same in this state. It’s hard to admit, but I have to agree with you on issues like that. I should find a way to get a new one instead of the old one. One that will be incorporeal with me when I am in my natural form. Or you will find a way to be myself again because it is beyond my knowledge. ~

As Adrian leaned closer with a smile, the glitter in his eyes that she loved to see, a flirtatious, mischievous smile appeared on her lips as well. She also leaned closer to the Sith Lord, though not very dangerously close in this situation. Yes, in the company of the man, Ingrid L’lerim was not what she was used to or what everyone knew about her. She smiled and it wasn’t acting but real. She is simply shining in the company of the Sith Lord.

The woman was always brittle and military at other times, though on her face, which usually did not betray any emotion, a smile was now visible. The cold, distant eyes gleamed happily and amusedly. And her rigid posture exceptionally reflected not only danger and predatory movement, but seduction. As if she were a completely different person, not the Eternal Empire’s tough-handed Overlord, but the woman of doom. And yes, that was brought out of her by Adrian's closeness. She seemed human now and not an inaccessible leader and soldier.

”Oh, of course I know, Darth Prospero! But there is no greater joy than to see your contented smile, the sparkle in your eyes. As for the inappropriately excited...” she whispered so that only the man could hear it.

She couldn't finish because Vanessa had arrived at that moment. In a split second, the woman changed back to what others knew her to be, which was her usual behaviour in the presence of others. The smile disappeared from her face, features hardened, her sparkling, friendly eyes with which she had looked into Adrian's eyes so far, they became distant and cold. The seduction disappeared from her body language, and so did everything else. She pulled herself out militarily and pulled away from Adrian a little. By the time she turned to Vanessa, the Overlord of the Eternal Empire was present again and not the one who had flirted with the Sith Lord before.

”My address is still Overlord, Lady Vantai. The fact that at Endor, where we were two, I didn’t raise my voice because you called me by my first name doesn’t mean it’s acceptable in public to do so.”

Her voice, too, was the usual frosty, military, now there was no trace of the softness, laughter, seductive tone she had spoken to Adrian a few moments earlier.

”As I see it, politeness is still not your strength. Maybe I should have kissed Darth Prospero in front of everyone to look really busy?” she asked in a cold and emotionless voice.

​