Public The Zenith Festival - Event on Spira

[Spacer NPCs]

The Zenith Festival on Spira was occurring now. Many of the resorts were full up, from the galaxy’s rich and famous, or the people who think they’re the galaxy’s rich and famous. One of the underdeveloped islands north of the, along the path of the Spira Regatta, was turned into a festival for all comers.

Corvettes and smaller vessels were landed, turned into a variety of impromptu structures from living areas, to restaurants, to trading posts and tech displays and garages. The center of the island had a number of stages where music from around the galaxy was being played all during the festival.

“Let’s go!” Called out a human Master of Ceremony wearing bright colors and sunglasses with an equally bright frame. “I’m Spyder and with my lovely co-MC Elly, we’re going to be leading your party here for the next several days.

“Your datapads should be turned to the Zenith Radio station so that while you’re around Spira, you can clue in to what is going on and never miss a step!” Continued Elly a blue Twi’lek with what appeared to be gold tattoos up and down her arms and lekku.

“As day one starts up, there is a show of some personally owned starfighters and airspeeders, racing is on-going, betting is encouraged. Each night we’ll be having a variety of acts from live music to synthetic deejays keeping the party going from sundown through the middle of the night!”

“And lets not forget the vendors and sponsors! We’ve got foods from all around the galaxy and so many designers showing their wares from the hottest clothing to the most fun tech! If you’re looking to take a tour of what’s provided, there are a few CR Corvettes landed to hold some of the bigger techs, with food tents all around!”

As people were walking, some from airspeeders that dropped them off from the resorts, others from personal shuttles or rented temporary living arrangements, airspeeders and starfighters were flying low and racing each other through cargo-transport rings.

“If you’re interested, please check in at the Raider Corvette, to sign up for racing! And most importantly… ENJOY Spira!”

Off the coast there were many vessels from wind-powered to engine powered, floating in the water with people diving off into the warm seas.

However, for those in the know, there were symbols on the sides of structures, definitely triggering anyone aware, of a Thieves or Spacers Cant, showing people where they should be going if they’re looking for more seedy purchases or discussions.

Welcome to Spira and the Zenith Festival. A Core celebration to open up the main summer season of Spira’s tourism, but also, and most importantly, to drive economics and crime forward. The world is yours.

 

[Eaton Waters]

Eaton was excited to be here. Spira was a gorgeous world, a bit too ritzy for his taste, but he was here all the same. Rumor was that there were people looking to have their products delivered from the Core to the Rim. He had no idea what he could end up transporting.

But more importantly for him? He had products to sell. Stolen goods, and forgeries of art and Republic chain codes. Making his way down the lines of starfighters off the main stage, the Blubreen was taking in the airspeeders and racing starfighters. Known in his own circle for racing A-Wings, this was home for him.

The blonde man walked past a purple A-Wing and noticed some of the drawings on one of the walls, small, but there, and pointing him towards the bright blue CR-90 that wasn’t so far off.

That was his destination.

 

[Zara Voss]

“The Gilded Ghost”

The Spiran sun hit polished transparisteel, chrome hull plating, jewels, and expensive lies with equal generosity. Daesha Kairn stepped from the hired luxury skimmer as if she had been expected by the entire marina. Perhaps, in some small self-important way, they had expected her.

Gold-strapped heels kissed the docking concourse without hurry, each measured step sending the translucent overskirt trailing behind her in a lazy shimmer while festival attendants hurried around race crews, sponsor delegates, and the procession of affluent spectators filtering toward the Zenith paddocks. Engines purred in the near distance. Somewhere overhead, a sleek interceptor screamed across the blue in a demonstration pass that drew applause from tourists too eager to be impressed.

Daesha did not look up. She was far more interested in the people who did not applaud. Amber eyes slid once across the registration terraces, over the clustered race financiers, over polished yacht representatives smiling too widely beside promotional holoboards, over the security personnel pretending this was merely a festival and not the largest concentration of unsecured credits on Spira's coast this week.

A smile touched her lips. How obliging. Her gloved fingers accepted a crystal flute from a passing attendant without breaking stride. The champagne was cold, overpriced, and therefore perfect. She took a sip as if testing the quality of the event itself before continuing deeper into the VIP corridor, datapad tucked lightly beneath one arm, lekku jewelry catching the light with each subtle turn of her head.

Daesha Kairn. Luxury broker. Sabacc darling. Buyer of absurdly expensive things for people with even more absurd disposable income. At least, that was who the invitation listed.

The invitation, unlike most things in the galaxy, had not thought to question her. A pair of sponsors paused to look her over. One recognized neither the woman nor the name, which was ideal. The other recognized only the confidence, which was better.

She offered them both the same languid smile one might give prospective business opportunities and neither man seemed able to decide whether he had just been appraised or invited. Excellent. Beyond the official fanfare, however, Zenith had already begun whispering in its second language.

Not Basic. Not Huttese. Need. Need wrapped in polished fabric and perfumed air. Need moving in the coded handoffs between private docking clerks. Need in the eyes of the men who watched cargo ramps instead of racers. Need in the subtle cant of conversation exchanged just beyond the hearing of respectable guests.

Daesha's smile deepened by a fraction. There it was. The real festival. The races, the yachts, the endless glasses of sparkling nonsense—those were simply decoration hung around the far more interesting truth that wherever wealth gathered in quantities this obscene, thieves, brokers, smugglers, counterfeiters, and scavengers gathered twice as fast.

Somewhere on Spira this week, fortunes would quietly change hands. Somewhere, expensive people would make stupid private requests. Somewhere, someone would need a discreet acquisition, a missing crate rerouted, a competitor embarrassed, a customs inquiry vanished, a starship broker who asked no impolite questions. And Daesha Kairn was nothing if not accommodating.

She drifted to the railing overlooking the marina and the race approach beyond, lifting her flute as if to toast the festival below while her eyes tracked the movement of bodies instead of vessels. Pilots with ego. Officials with access. Socialites with jewelry. Criminals with caution. Rich idiots with unattended wallets.

A productive morning already.

"Well," she murmured to no one at all, the words warm as honey and every bit as adhesive, "let us see who intends to lose something valuable first."

Daesha Kairn
• Location: VIP Paddock & Marina Concourse, Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Identify profitable contacts, illicit opportunities, and wealthy fools
• Outfit: Arival Outfit
• Company: OPEN