Public The Wild Hunt | Dinner and Hunting on Irmenu | Open to All

[Alric Árheim]

Wild Hunt

The Boy Baron and Friends

The Free Imperial City of Sólrike, Irmenu​

Ever since the admission of the Free Imperial City into the New Imperial Order, the entire city-state had been buzzing with arrivals fresh from the depths of space. New Imperial diplomats, Imperial Knights, and various other members of Galactic society taking full advantage of the open-door policy that the Baron had created. Being one of the few star-ports on world not directly controlled by the Imperius, something that was a source of massive contention between the church and the throne, Sólrike was ripe for opportunity. Pushing tech on the local populace, however, is still something that is heavily controlled and monitored by the church, but the cultural exchanges are much, much more open. Information isn’t as obvious as a blaster, but it can be just as potent in the right hands.
Thus, the dance between the secular authorities and ecclesiarchy on the planet began. While Baron Alric played chess with one hand, he was also forced to duel in checkers with the other. As long as the church retained it’s sway over the population and the pantheon of the Gods, he couldn’t risk directly angering them, nor their control over tech distribution, with any particular move. Despite the vassalage of the city underneath the NIO, direct diplomatic encounters still were a shaky subject, and some in the church, and the guilds, feared that they were becoming an all too regular scenario. Even among the citizenry, there was a general concern about the New Imperial Order treating the Barony as a simple colony, something to exploit and move along from.
If he had his way, Alric would see that dynamic shift.
He was early into this game though, and he had to know where all of the pieces lay before he could start making his first moves.

---
Far, far, the Hunaland isles, over ice, and wind, and snow…
---​

Preparations for the fest had begun when he had risen early that very morning. He shifted out of bed, cracked his spine in three different places, and rose. The curtains were already drawn, letting in a flood of the white-winter sunlight into the room. Bathing everything in light blues and snow. It was bright out, the tri-suns bounding off of the snowfall that fell nearly constantly in this part of the world, strangling all details in it’s brilliance. His butler had already been in the room, a set of clothes for the days events were already laid out atop of his dresser and his washing pail was already filled with steaming water. He went about his preparations, splashing water on his face before dunking his head into the bucket. Once dry, his hair was pulled back into a bun, close and tight to the head, the normal designs of Barons of his house. A loose fitting tunic of rich purple dyed cloth was next. The marker of his status. There was a time when the dye itself was more expensive than the whole of the Free City, though that had passed ages ago. Trousers, and the other various trappings of mundane life. Much of the outfit was for work instead of merrymaking. Steady, well made leather boots without much polish or shine. Rough hewn, yet hardy trousers. Before they departed for the day he would take time to bring a jacket to fend off the chill, but that could wait. Finally, he donned a necklace, gold and silver strung, with a pendant displaying a wyvern in flight, the symbol of his house.
There was only so much proper dress could do to prepare one for the dance that was entertaining house guests.

Árheim Castle​

When he finally arrived at the great hall, things already seemed to be in full swing. There were various delegates from various planets, governments, and local municipalities. Representatives from every guild, members of the Imperius Cult, Mandalorians a-plenty, and even a few other nobles and monarchs from across the Hunaland Islands. Alric was curious to who all the advisors had sent out messages to and who had simply made their way here regardless. The wide hall had table after table set up with a variety of meats, cheeses, and wines for the guests. Occasionally a baked good where the chefs could spare. Simple food for a simple country. The lights of the banisters and candelabras hung low and warm across the space, giving the entire room a hearth like glow. He sighed a bit of relief when none of the handlers noticed his entrance, sparing him the fanfare of a proper royal introduction. Today wasn’t about making a show of himself, it was understanding where he now stood in the… galaxy. Where he stood in the galaxy. He was a player, however small, on a scale he never had been made to imagine before.

Time to mingle then, he assumed. Until he decided to make the call for the hunt to begin.

| Shai Maji | OPEN TO ALL

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

Aurelian Sigismund,
High Imperator, Shield of Vandemar, Grandmaster of the Legions
✠ Objective: Diplomacy, Networking
✠ Location: Árheim Castle, Sólrike, Irmenu
✠ Gear: Blue tabard with golden stitchings and the golden griffin of Sigismund, golden laurel wreath, brown leather boots
✠ Assets: The Phalanx (in orbit)
✠ Tag(s): Alric Árheim

​

It was the first official activity which Sigismund attended as ruler of Vandemar inside the New Imperial Order. The imperial realm was the right choice to stage his plans and to support, it was the only obvious choice. Others pursued chaos, mayhem or petty bureaucracy. Or even worse, the Force. Despite being a Force sensitive himself, he grew to hate this extension, this connection. Though his contemporaries he hated even more. Sith, Jedi or however they call themselves, none is a servant of the own will, none sees the greater majority of beings do not need the Force to survive, just the strength in their hearts and will in their minds.

With two of his Agema bodyguards, both nearly as tall as himself, only the Praetorian Sarissas larger, he was leaving his shuttle to attend the feast on this feudal world. With long, determined steps he would pass the servants and guards until, one of them actually trying to keep pace to guide them towards the feasting hall. Before the inner castle, the local guards would ask the Agema to offer their weapons or to stay. With a brief gesture of his hand and a nod at the two golden-armored warriors, Aurelian proceeded ahead alone.

He had entered the hall a few minutes before their host and taken a long look around the offer in food and beverages. His massive stature and simple, but elegant blue clothing making him very easy to spot. Aurelians eyes danced across the room to see and find individuals he would deem interesting or at least helpful. Local nobility, contractors or guild representatives were not really his concern, except they ruled this world. He was curious about the local faith though and would distantly listen to some conversations of members of this religion.

​

 

[Geiseric]

Alric Árheim Aurelian Sigismund

It was a rare occasion to be surrounded by such niceties, Geiseric thought as the slowly sipped his wine, his eyes surveying the fine assortment of local cheeses to top upon his cracker. A perfect distraction from the war, though only for a few hours. The cause for his arrival to the Arheim banquet was far from pleasure. He savoured the bite of food as his teeth rent through it and the strong cheese hit his tongue. It was far better than the flavourless nutrient cubes he subsisted on for weeks at a time. One of the servants had told him the ham tasted of despair, but he knew with certainty she’d never downed the last nutrient cube a week below a planet’s surface clearing out some god-forsaken Sithspawn lair. That tasted like despair. Whatever she was offering was merely for show by the Irmenu High-society.

He was here as a diplomat, though where there anyone here who knew him, which he doubted, they would be able to tell that was a lie. The way he’d handled diplomacy with the Eternal Empress’ daughter had painted him clearly as the last capable diplomat in the Crusade. In actuality, unbeknownst to the rest of the party-goers, he could be less than tactfully described as a spy. He was a warrior, one of the best the Crusade had to offer, and, diplomat or spy regardless, a warrior was determined to be the best envoy to the backwords world.

Irmenu was a rare oddity. Planets joining interstellar governments were, barring situations like this, always doing so under the rule of one or two planetary governments. By galactic standards, this world was anarchic. The feast was to celebrate the joining of a single city into the New Imperial Order. It was whether the others would follow suit that intrigued the Ashlan clergy. Conversion efforts in former Sith space were going well, with citizens flocking to the church of their saviours daily and many taking up arms for the Crusade.

After Coruscant, the attack on the Bastion Accords, signatory nations had developed tense relationships that strained their alliance. Worst of all, galactic governments had begun to reconsider the question of their relations to the Force. With the Ashlans discovering Irmenu and its entrance to the New Empire, they deemed it of utmost importance to parley with what looked to be a promising future investment. After all, primitive worlds such as Irmenu were ripe for conversio, and an Ashlan world within Imperial jurisdiction could be a valuable bargaining chip as tensions mounted between secularism and religion.

Geiseric was not dressed as one might expect given his missions, both real and fake. He wore his normal gear, a white tunic over armour that didn’t look entirely out of place in the room filled with other, less technologically advanced knights. It was his sword and shield that would no doubt appear as some sick alien mockery of their trusty steel. Luckily they were made of eneray and could be summoned at will. He noticed curious eyes lingering upon the hilt of his lightsaber hanging by his belt, and on the small shield generator bulging from his left vambrace. He reckoned they would see the magical energy weapons sometime soon, were there indeed to be a grand hunt as he had been told…

 

[Shai Maji]

To say that Shai was out of place, in her very being as well as appearance, was an understatement. Standing by the table filled with delicious food, she was clad in her Beskar armour with a glass of snazzy wine in one hand and a loaf of fresh bread in the other. She stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of fine clothing and expensive looks. In her defence, she didn't have anything close to formal that would work for this. The closest she had was a rather... skimpy dress that she got a while ago for an intimate evening with her ex... she doubted that the people here would appreciate that or her intensive cybernetics. So she did what any Mandalorian would: Bust out the polish and paint, smack on and crack on.

Her posture and behaviour also didn't exactly scream "formal envoy of the Mandalorian people" as she downed her glass of wine and filled up on another. Her cybernetic eyes studied the people around her as more gathered for this great hunt she was told about. That was what she prepared for, not a posh dinner on a bordeline backwards planet. It did have its curiosities, though. Every single curiosity would label her as some sort of heretic or something from what she could find out. Bizarre armour filled with tech, robotic eyes, and enough cybernetics to nearly legally declare her a droid. She would beat the crap out of anyone that held that against her.

An absolute unit of a man entered the room, earning a stare that lasted far longer than it should have. She was in awe of the size of that lad. She finally blinked after a couple dozen seconds and stared at her glass of wine, downing it before she set the glass aside. That was enough for now. The other guests were also rather peculiar. There seemed to be a bunch of Ashlans, some guy that was certainly a local, and a variety of others. At least she wasn't the only one clad in enough armour to solo a small army... hopefully. The Shistavanen grabbed a piece of delicious ham and cheese before she wandered around to get a better look at the place.

It was beautiful she had to admit. The snow and bright sunlight outside, contrasted with the softer glow of candles and warm atmosphere in the great hall. This could perhaps be a fun day.

Aurelian Sigismund Geiseric Alric Árheim

 

[Alric Árheim]

It was more of the same that Alric had expected from affairs like this. There was already a large population of off-worlders that had integrated into Irmenuean life sometime ago, so alien faces, while uncommon, were not abnormal within society. Especially in the higher tiers where family and clan structures afforded to groups like the Mandalorians and Chiss allowed them to climb through the ranks. Alric smiled as he made his way through the hall, stopping at group after group, chatting and smiling the entire way. Careful to keep his best behavior in check. Careful to not step on any toes. Afterall, he had already made plenty of enemies.

“Grimbald! A pleasure, how is the smithery!”

“Brother Bertram, I am honored to see you here. How goes the word of Dyēus?”

“Your Majesty Sigeric, I wasn’t expecting you! The weather fine in the south this time of year?”

Person after person, man, woman, alien, human, he cycled through. Rattling off the predestined greetings and departures he had been lectured in since he was a young child. He was destined to rule the barony ever since his father had gathered enough electors to take charge, his family name was attached directly to profit and the strengthening of the guilds.

He had at least one ally to count between the separate estates, at the very least.

It was so incredibly droll. The same people, same faces, same changes and same normality. He was so drained by the time he had swept through not even a 1/4th of the room that he had stopped at a table, fetched up a neon blue glass of wine, and began dipping a piece of bread into it as he continued his stroll. Using the set up as a proper, polite excuse, on why he suddenly began dodging each of the guests.

Of course, there was plenty of new sights and sounds for anyone to encounter. Just within Aurelian’s earshot, as well as nearby Geiseric, there were sets of Imperius priests discussing between themselves. The conversation was carried out in Sólrikisc, but to those that could understand, it had much less to do with faith, Gods, or even the Force, and much more to do with the nature of the feast itself. The Imperius Priests were concerned, new faces, new people, new changes all occurring much too fast. Sólrikisc boots on foreign, extrasolar soil and fighting for wars that their people had no part in? The signing over of the Imperial capital to an unknown power?

One that stood higher than the rest, was the Baron’s recent claim to the legacy of the Hunalandic Empire, declaring that since the ancient title, that predated even that realm, was signed and ratified within city walls, that the city had the right to claim it, and thus, the dynasty did as well. He had begun styling himself as Heir Apparent to the High Kingdom of Greater Hunaland, the entire chain of arctic isles.

Alric, however, was quick to notice something off about the crowd. There were a handful of people, just seemingly a handful, that did not belong in his sense of normality. These were Extrasolar travelers, obviously enough by their clothing, attitudes, and… well, general lack of melding with the aesthetics of the barony. Save one, however, that appeared to be a facsimile of their own tech level, despite… the obvious differences.

No matter, between the etunaz, werawulf, and kneht, there was plenty to keep him occupied.

Too many bodies, however, to go about meeting each one individually. Sitting down his bread and picking up a knife, he brought his wine glass high and wrapped it on the crystal. Earning harsh, loud, rings throughout the hall.

The chatter died down, hushes fell about, and the whole world seemed to stare at the baron.

Before he shifted the spotlight right back onto his guests.

“I hope you all are enjoying your evening and partaking in the best of my house’s hospitality! It has come to my attention that there are new guests in the castle tonight! I would like to welcome them to the baronial table, to come eat with me personally so that I might converse with them!”

Shai Maji | Aurelian Sigismund | Geiseric

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

Aurelian Sigismund,
High Imperator, Shield of Vandemar, Grandmaster of the Legions
✠ Objective: Diplomacy, Networking
✠ Location: Árheim Castle, Sólrike, Irmenu
✠ Gear: Attire, golden laurel wreath
✠ Assets: The Phalanx (in orbit)
✠ Tag(s): Alric Árheim, Shai Maji , Geiseric

​

Aurelian did not really understand the language, but he very well heard tone and observed their looks. They were not the first backwater people he heard speaking in suspicious and fearful manners of the unknown. Populations who grow up in dark ages, controlled by superstition and very few who promote superstition are neither uncommon nor usually last very long when the real Galaxy knocks at their door. He was curious and about to approach the group who more than once put a look onto him which screamed 'leave our planet alone!', afterall, he was the epitome of what they condemn, technological progress and enlightenment.

But his idea to scare some locals into submission of the technocratic truths was interupted when their host announced that he invites all unknown and foreign visitor to his table to dine with him. The individual was the Baron of this city and castle, and as far as the reports say, a claimant to the rulers position of this world. An opportunity to forge a possible alliance and even better, to lay the foundation of the future of this world. Vandemar could not ignore this and would not. The time has come.

Sigismund moved towards the table with his remarkably long but calm steps. He seemed very comfortable or relaxed, not uptight or trying to look more than he was. His physical appearance speaks for him and when required, his martial or statecraft skills speak for themselves.

"Baron Árheim. I am Aurelian Sigismund of Vandemar, my pleasure to be here today."

His sea-green eyes would look around.

"Fine feast you have organised, though it seems that some are less hospitable towards off-worlders than others. Your cult appears intriguing, so does your world. How did you manage to isolate yourself from technology for so long?"

​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

​

Commodore Albrecht Herlock
Commanding officer of the Anaxes Navy TF58.
Gear: Navy uniform with his rank insignia and medals, ceremonial sword, personnal blaster
Location : Árheim Castle, Sólrike, Irmenu
Objective : interact with other people, networking
Vessel : CV-2 Tonnant placed in orbit and a DM&S-97 dropship at the spaceport
Tag : Nukth Kelga'an | Alric Árheim

This wasn't his first party. He actually attended one on Carlac right before the Maw's assault on Csilla. But he didn't feel at ease, surounded by all those politicians and other aristocrats. During the short flight between Commander's Richthofen's Tonnant and the spaceport, he checked over and over his uniform, knowing that the first impression he would give was decisive. As he entered the castle's main hall, he looked at Captain Nukth Kelga'an and the two Banshees escorting him and said :

"Once again, I really prefer to be on a ship's bridge than in one of those parties. But I have no choice if I want to understand what our politicians are saying, don't you think ?"

As he walked into the hall, he spotted small group of people, speaking to each other. He assumed they were pretty important persons, judging by the looks of their outfit and walked towards them. Once again, he turned towards Nukth Kelga'an and told him :

"Your men are free now, they can do whatever they want if it's reasonable and if you allow them to do so. I need you to say by my side, I feel better when there's at least another soldier around me."

 

[Shai Maji]

A shining example of Mandalorian elegance as ever, Shai kept stuffing herself with the delicious food available on the table. The glass of wine had inexplicably found itself filled and back in her hand as another piece of ham disappeared into her maw along with a slice of cheese. She needed to get the recipe of the ham. At this point it was all a blur on why she was there, all she was after was the delicious ham and cheese on display.

She was pulled back to reality when someone decided to smack a utensil against a glass. Shai turned to face the culprit with a frown, only for it to disappear when she realized that it was the host of the party. On top of that, he invited them for more food as well! Gulping down another piece of ham, she followed after the man to the table they were supposed to meet at. She accidentally found herself rather close to the head of it, right next to the absolute unit in the room. Staring once more, she leaned back slightly to stare up at him for a moment. "Holy kriff, you're even bigger up close. My condolences to your mom, hot damn." She commented casually, studying him up and down for a moment.

Not sure how these dudes worked with formal stuff, she waited for the main man to take his seat first before she joined him on her own. With an awkward smile she looked around the table to see who else had joined them. This was painful to witness.

"So guys, how's things going?" She spoke up casually as she sat forward. "The name's Shai, token mando for the day it seems. Where are y'all from?" She asked, making sure she was clear enough to hear. The wine likely was more effective than she anticipated it would be. She needed to get a barrel before she flew off.

Aurelian Sigismund Alric Árheim Geiseric Albrecht F. Herlock

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

THE WILD HUNT
PINGS | Albrecht F. Herlock | Alric Árheim

​

A NEW EXPERIENCE.
— 869 ABY, Sólrike, Irmenu.

Captain Nukth Kelga’an and his men were coming from a DM&S-97 Dropship alongside Commodore Albretch Herlock. The Banshee Company’s commanding officer had never participated in a party, unlike his Anaxsi friend. He had just entered a few parties on Anaxes, but no one was truly noticeable. When Herlock asked him his question, he turned his face in his direction.

“Ya’re right, sir,” he affirmed, “but it does not matter to me. ‘am only doin’ my job with my men an’ I’m tryin’ to do it seriously. Yep, I really prefer a ship’s bridge too. 'am happy that understandin' what the politicians are sayin’ is not my job.”

The three Banshees followed him into the castle’s main entrance and looked at the impressive hall built by Arheim’s people. The soldiers wore their conventional HK-01E armors with some NIO’s distinctions on the faceplate, remaining of the Third Imperial Civil War. When Herlock talked to him, Kelga’an nodded slowly.

“Got it, sir. Tras!” he said to his soldiers on the comlink. “I’ll stay with ya, sir. Don’t want to be alone in this reception — I don’t like those guys at all.”

So the Captain followed the Commodore and they were together, Anaxsi against all odds.
​