Faction |TIC| Imperial Unity Gala

[Voice of the Empire]

​

Location: The Imperial Citadel, Grand Ballroom
World: New Alderaan
Time: 1900 Hours, Confederation Standard Time
Event: Imperial Confederation Unity Gala

The vaulted ceilings of the Grand Ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers suspended from durasteel rafters, their refracted light dancing across the polished obsidian floors like the reflection of a thousand stars. Massive banners—black, white, and gold—hung proudly from the walls, each bearing the sigils of the three Imperial States now united under one banner. A subtle orchestral ensemble played from an alcove near the far wall, delivering a stately rendition of the March of Resolve.

Uniformed officers, dignitaries, intelligence directors, planetary governors, inquisitors, scientists, and industrial magnates moved through the chamber beneath the watchful gaze of polished statues and sentinel guards. The scent of rare Coreward wine and delicately spiced Alderaanian dishes lingered in the air, and the soft hum of conversation had just begun to build when the room fell into a sudden, respectful silence.

From a raised black-durasteel platform at the head of the ballroom, flanked by a pair of crimson-cloaked Sentinels, Empress Liraeth Deschart stood tall in regalia befitting her station—sharp-lined, dignified, and without ostentation. She raised a crystal glass filled with deep amber liqueur, her voice clear and commanding as she addressed the gathered elite.

"Tonight," she began, "we celebrate not merely the survival of our Empire, but its transformation. In ages past, we fractured. We bled. We were made to kneel before chaos and deceit. But those days are behind us. Together, we have reforged Imperial strength; not through fear, nor through blind ambition, but through discipline, unity, and vision. The Confederation stands as a bulwark against disarray. As long as it endures, so too does order."

Her gaze swept the room, not cold, but resolute.

"So let us raise our glasses to the continued vigilance of our fleet, the wisdom of our governors, the precision of our engineers, the loyalty of our soldiers, and the will of the Empire itself. To the future we are building: brick by brick, system by system, breath by breath. To the Confederation."

She drank, and the room echoed with a crisp chorus of clinking glasses and murmured affirmations.

The music resumed. The first servers re-entered with trays of refreshments, and the ballroom came alive once more with murmuring conversation, laughter behind gloves, the calculated click of polished boots, and the subtle glances of officers weighing one another with measured eyes.

The night had begun.

​

 

[Taregh Garon]

​

An enormous figure he stood heads over the majority of those filling the Grand Ballroom.

When the Empress spoke he listened. When she concluded and the orchestral ensemble played again he mingled. A Server passed him with a tray of the same amber liquid that Liraeth Deschart had been drinking; he reached and took one of the crystal glasses.

In his hand the glass appeared small, insignificant; he brought it to his mouth and tipped it slowly. Taking a sip of the amber liquid his expression shifted but only long enough for him to swallow and then it returned to normal. As another Server passed nearby he would set the unfinished crystal down on their tray.

Eyes surveyed the Ballroom, slowly scanning the faces of different Imperials in attendance. This was unlike the revelries of the Clans were he had grown from a babe to a young adult before leaving that life behind. In a place like this your enemies hid behind false smiles and fake promises ensuring that he required extra diligence.

He stood alone now.

Wearing the black of the Inquisitorious ensured many gave him a wide berth and coupled with his natural stature it made him intimidating even before he tried.

To look at him he might be mistaken for the bodyguard of a much more important official.

He watched, vigilant, reading the faces of the room.

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

The Empress's speech was inspiring to say the least. One about the future but also about the adversity of the Empire. Through trial after trial, they survived. They will continue to survive and one day bring order to the galaxy. So Narantuyaa did raise her glass at the end of the speech, sipping the champagne slowly as the music returned. Then the gala officially began. For the ISS, field commander, it was both a time for relaxation but also a time for work. Everyone can smile and mingle, but without hard work, the Empress's dream can never be realized. Narantuyaa found herself standing poised by one of the many pillars in the ball room, wearing the ISS Dress Uniform while having a holo map of the galaxy next to her. Her eyes looked at the planets underneath Imperial control, and then towards many unclaimed worlds.

A resurgent Empire out in the far reaches of the galaxy. Away from the wars between the Sith Order and the Galactic Alliance. To become a beacon of prosperity for those that do not wish to be just mere numbers in the war machine between the galaxy's two most powerful factions. Narantuyaa allowed herself a small smile as thought about that dream before turning off the holo map to look back at the gala. Already she glanced at ISS subordinates, giving them a nod. Even at formal events like these, the ISS is always watching.

​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

NEW ALDERAAN

The chandeliers above gleamed like stars caught in a snare, cold light glinting off polished steel and stranger metals alike. Beneath them, Aether Verd stood motionless, a statue cast in gold beskar, more war monument than dignitary. The Mand'alor was not so arrogant as to believe he blended in...he did not try to. In a room scented with New Alderaanian spices and threaded through with the delicate cadence of orchestral restraint, his presence struck a different chord: deep, resounding, undeniable.

He had given his word.

Back when Warlord Sularen first stepped foot on Mandalore, a stranger bearing the seal of the Confederation and eyes like glass, Mand'alor the Iron had heard him out in the old way: on his throne, surrounded by the echoes of warriors past. It was not a long meeting, but it was meaningful. Mandalorians didn’t posture with words, they weighed intent. And Aether had told him plainly: We will come. We will see what you are building. We will judge you not by your titles, but by the shape of your foundation.

Now, here he was.

New Alderaan. The Grand Ballroom. Beneath banners not his own.

His armor was formal by his standards: polished plates of deep gold, chased with black sigils and burnished at the edges, a warlord’s raiment dressed for the gaze of kings. The T-shaped visor of his helmet remained clipped to his belt for now, though he felt the stares that lingered when the others in his entourage moved.

Two of his own served as guard. They kept a loose formation nearby: silent, disciplined, not here to intimidate but to remind. The third and fourth were allies, not detail: trusted comrades who had never seen a gathering like this and had asked to come not as warriors, but as witnesses. He had said yes. Let them see how empires toasted to strength.

He took in the room like a battlefield, not out of paranoia but habit. Positions. Exits. The way officers formed knots of quiet conversation around key figures. He watched the Empress take the stage, her voice cutting clean through the din. Her words were not untrue. Not melodramatic, either. He’d heard worse. Seen worse. Her toast was no different than any Mandalorian war chant in tone: proud, purposeful, unyielding.

He lifted his own glass in response. A Coreward wine, dark and smooth.

When the music resumed, he allowed himself the smallest exhale and shifted slightly. He was not built for pageantry. But he was not above it, either. He had come to see, not to sneer. To feel the pulse of this new machine and decide whether it beat in time with his people’s future, or threatened to grind it underfoot.

And if it was the former?

Then perhaps there was something here worth building beside. Not as subjects. But as equals.

Let the night reveal what words could not.​

Adean Castor , Siv Kryze , Delsin Shaw , Ze'bast Verd + Open

 

[Taregh Garon]

Narantuyaa Asther | Open​

Eyes scanned the ballroom.

He saw her, leveled his gaze on her where she stood near a pillar. She stood poised, studying a holographic map to one side. He'd shift then move through the crowds.

Instinctively crowds parted for him, making a path. Officially he answered to Officers of the ISS but none of them barred his passage. Like a sea of flesh they seemed to open for him then close behind him rather then by overrun by his mountainous frame.

As he came closer she'd hear his voice reaching out to her....

"Field Commander."

...he addressed her by rank, they had never met but perhaps he'd heard of her on mission or during a briefing.

Heads turned when the Mand'alor entered the Ballroom; he looked away from her in that direction. A sound emanated from him, it was somewhere in between a grunt and something else incomprehensible. After that his eyes turned back towards her.

Standing so tall if the light hit him at the correct angle she would have been engulfed by his shadow.

He regarded the holographic map next to her.

"So many worlds within reach, so many enemies nearby."

Just an observation.

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

TAG: Aether Verd / Adean Castor / Delsin Shaw / Siv Kryze

It had been a long time since he stepped foot in an event such as this. Though, he never actually participated as a guest. The Imperials knew how to put on a soiree. Everything was elaborate. The closest he could imagine Mandalorians doing such a thing were clan meetings and war councils. This wasn’t merely a gathering. It was a demonstration of prowess.

The Empress raised her glass for a toast, and silence followed like a tide. Her voice was clear, poised, and effortlessly commanding in his eyes. Her words cut through the room with precision. Every word, he marked, cataloging tone, posture, emphasis. She spoke as one who ruled not through fear, but through calculated gravitas. He could respect that. Command was not given. It was taken, owned, and worn like armor.

Ze’bast scanned the room with the discipline of a soldier and the paranoia of a survivor. Entry points, security gaps, potential chokeholds. Every architectural flourish became a tactical variable. He noted balconies with limited cover, mirrored walls that could betray movement, guards that looked too ceremonial to be of use in a real fight.

He stood beside Mand’alor, silent and unmoving to his left side. Ze’bast was a sentinel cast in iron. His protector-type beskar'gam bore the scars of another life, another war. It was not polished for show but carried its own history etched in carbon scoring and dented plates. The black cape draped over his left side moved faintly with the room’s subtle breeze, and atop his head sat the crowned, horned helm—hooded, impassive, sovereign in its own right. The t-shaped visor was all anyone would see of his face tonight.

Coming unarmed was not something that was part of his normal routine.

Did he expect something to go wrong? No.

Would he be ready if it did? Absolutely.

A single pistol rested in its holster. Harmless in theory. But beneath his cape, snug and concealed against his waist, was his lightsaber. He didn’t wear it for flair. He wore it for Mand’alor. Where his leader went, he would go too. Didn’t matter if it were into diplomacy, into danger, into damnation.
​

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

Taregh Garon +Open

Narantuyaa glanced over to the voice that came from the side of her, a hulking figure coming towards her to join by the pillar. She didn't make any sort of moves, but her eyes did glance up to notice the garb he was wearing. "Inquisitor." she replied professionally. Then she turned her head to notice thee Mandalorians in the crowd, especially the Mandalore himself. Narantuyaa then turned back to the holo map, responding to the comment the Inquistor made.

"And some enemies might be closer than we think. The untamed regions of space provide safe havens to those that bring disorder. They will all need to be broken and rebuilt." Perhaps the Inquistor could figure out by what Narantuyaa meant by that first statement. It was the ISS's duty to perceive threats both internal and external. Even if they are honored guests. But Narantuyaa would never make the first move in such a public setting. Yet she however, always trying to plan for the worst, just incase things did go wrong.

​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

Oh how I hated these kinds of galas in the past. My father had once been some kind of dignitary in his time. Using Networking to make connections around the Galaxy. Which is why I now stood with the Mandalorian Empire as one of their current "Writ of Iron." Essentially individuals who worked with the Mandalorians on a contract basis without being directly a Mandalorian. The purpose of this was to facilitate those who wished to work alongside the newest iteration of Mandalore, without having to go through the entire process of becoming one of his devout followers. Writings of the Verd Mandalorian Clan from my father's writings told me greatly of their many exploits. Aether was a new face among them to some degree. Darren wrote little about the man except for his ancestors. And how they were born of many locations. Namely some being directly tied with the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Now a small fry of power to the days it once held.

Dressed in my armor, the white mask I typically wore with it clung to my belt. Allowing my face to be shown and the hair not be clipped against my head. However, I did bring with me a sword. A single one which was being held in an ornate Tsuba. One traditionally of my Echani people. While they were typically done to wield a Vibrosword of some kind, this one held a blade created by my father years ago. And how I hated it.

A limp hand rested on the pommel as the Empress spoke loudly of the coming times. I paid no real ear towards the sounds. Reaching me like some whing and whining of a new coming for the Imperials who fought so hard to retain their power in the galactic scale. As much as I wanted to just not care for this pony show and dance, it was necessary of the Mandalorian Empire, and that of myself. Networking. Generating and building stronger connections with other political powers of the galactic scale so that one might have their fingers within a hold of some kind of power.

I moved closer to Aether and his two guards. All wearing their customary armor. However, in this case Aether was completely swathed in a golden form. Looking about the ballroom before speaking softly.

"Well, with the festivities starting, I'll make my rounds. See if there would be any buttons I can press. Maybe they have something of interest."

I had a soft chuckle before continuing as I walked away.

"I'll play nice otherwise."

What I did notice after the words thrown over my shoulder to the Mandalore of Iron, Was a rather unique looking officer of the Empire. A species I had never seen before. Two individuals speaking to one another. Clearly the male was one who could hold his own. The female had this air about her that screamed she enjoyed kicking puppies. Perfection.

I closed the distance. A beaming smile upon my face and closed the distance to the two of them. However, stopping short of breaking any personal spaces. Offhand raised up in a greeting and a light bow of the head. Rising up to look between the two of them and the Holo-map that was being projected next to them.

"Mind some intermingling? This is the first I have heard of your illustrious Empire. May I pose some inquiries of such Galactic processes?"

Narantuyaa Asther | Taregh Garon | Aether Verd | Adean Castor | Siv Kryze | Ze'bast Verd ​

 

[Taregh Garon]

He understood.

Looking again from her to the Mandalorians, Ze'bast Verd in particular. They were all soldiers, Taregh had the advantage of being born into the culture before leaving it for the order that the Imperium had to offer. He understood them.

As his gaze came back to Narantuyaa Asther he would have replied...

"It would be natural that they are our enemies even if they haven't become them yet."

...his hand would raise, a thick and calloused finger would extend to her holo map as he pointed out...

"The Empire stretches towards the core where the Republic awaits. To the south the territories in league with the Black Sun, to the north the Mandalorians and on the edge of the Tingel Arm a Sith Empire client state."

...to him it seemed obvious...

"The Mandalorians are expansionists, they will turn hungry eyes southward soon enough."

To him the term, Honored Guest was only temporary. Eventually the guests would turn against the Empire. Arguably, it was inevitable but his words were spoken for her and her alone; no one else need be disturbed by his misgivings.

These functions were often an excuse for Officers, Commanders to dress their best but no one here should be considered unarmed. Many had blasters holstered at their hip. Taregh wore a lightsaber over his, its handle lengthy in comparison to others indicating it was a 'great' blade.

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

NEW ALDERAAN ​

Tag: Narantuyaa Asther Taregh Garon Aether Verd Adean Castor Ze'bast Verd Delsin Shaw
​

The air inside the ballroom was perfumed and precise—every detail calibrated for diplomacy, projection, pageantry. But to Siv Kryze, none of it mattered.

He had seen the shape of wars in silence more than once. He'd stood on cliffs with blaster smoke in his lungs, watched cities burn from orbit and ruins rise from nothing. He had seen what mattered. What endured.

And here, beneath a ceiling of chandeliers and judgment, he chose.

Three paces away from Aether Verd , Siv closed the gap—not as guard, not as subordinate, but as brother-in-arms. He came to stand at the warlord's side, the same way warriors always had: shoulder to shoulder, facing the world head-on.

His beskar-clad form was a study in contrasts—dark blue and silver where Aether's shone gold, a leaner silhouette honed in the crucible of covert war. The Nite Owl visor remained fixed forward, expressionless but present, scanning the room in the subtle, constant way only a veteran could: exits, angles, eyes that lingered too long.

He did not remove his helmet. Not in this room. Not for these people.

To some, it might have seemed defiant. But it wasn't about defiance—it was about memory. About meaning. This was the same armor he'd worn in shadow operations deep in enemy space, the same plates reforged on Concordia's anvil when he became its Warden. It wasn't regalia. It was a ledger. Every mark written in fire.

Others mingled. Toasted. Watched.

Siv stood silent.

A fixture beside the Mand'alor, sentinel to a people that refused to vanish. Not a guest. Not a diplomat.

A Mandalorian.

And in that silence, in that stillness, he declared everything that needed to be said.

To his right, Ze'bast Verd stood—a monolith of weathered iron and conviction, armor scarred and cape unmoving. The horned helm caught stray light as it turned, subtly but constantly. The man said nothing, needed nothing. His presence was a weapon all its own.

Delsin Shaw , by contrast, moved. Not with the stiffness of a soldier, but the fluid measure of someone born to walk among empires. His mask hung at his hip; his sword, ceremonial by style but real by make, rested in his grip like a memory he didn't want but couldn't leave behind. Even from behind the visor, Siv could see it: the measured discontent, the quiet calculation.

Deleon leaned in slightly toward the Mand'alor, voice dry with humor. "Well, with the festivities starting, I'll make my rounds. See if there are any buttons I can press. Maybe they have something of interest."

He chuckled, almost to himself. "I'll play nice otherwise."

Then he slipped into the crowd, drawn to conversation like a blade seeks armor seams.

Siv didn't follow.

He stayed where he was—beside gold, beside scarred iron—silent, steady, unmoved by the pageantry around them.

Let the others speak.

Siv had already answered.

 

[Onrai]

Tags: Narantuyaa Asther Taregh Garon Aether of the Iron Order Adean Castor Ze'bast Verd Delsin Shaw Siv Kryze

"Well, this is certainly a surprise."

The blonde form of Vanessa Vantai observed the surprising medley of Mandalorians that had yet arrived at a congregation of the various Imperial powers as she softly commented to herself. The Enigma was, as always, represented, the darktroopers of the former governor of Ord Mantell's forces ever present in their powered armor suits. The woman herself, surprised by the appearance of fully armored individuals, made a step towards them, before being yet momentarily diverted.

Gossip was afoot, as expected at such a gala like this. A simple black dress replaced her otherwise identical robes, the same midnight black that yet seemed to suck in the very fabric of the universe. Whispers were yet being spoken about the armored arrivals. Predispositions that reminded her of a dark time. This was a bud to be nipped while she had the opportunity.

"If such conflict occurs, it will not be because of us." She said to Taregh Garon and Narantuyaa Asther . "The Sith made a similarly foolish decision once upon a time of courting the Mandalorians, only to burn such a relationship when they needed it most. Thus was the death of the second Sith Empire assured. Never burden the Empire with the guilt of such a decision, Inquisitor."

Goddess knew she had seen it happen before. A grim look momentarily showed on her fresh face. "Perhaps we should offer them with more courtesy than apprehension." The initiative was taken. Vanessa moved towards the present Mandalore, Aether Verd , curious as to the man's own motivations for being here. She was every bit as discordant from the environment of New Alderaan as he, though perhaps her presence was more ethereal.

"Mandalore. Vanessa Vantai. A pleasure." She said, offering the man a hand to shake. Were he to examine her, she wore only the dress, not a weapon or blade visible or concealed on her flesh. Perhaps he did feel a wrongness from her, something far different from that of a Sith - but there was no malice or hatred. "I haven't seen a leader of the Mandalorian people at an Imperial function for many decades." Perhaps the statement from a seemingly youthful woman of past histories would open more doors to questioning.

She did have an offer she wished to yet propose.

 

[Squesha]

Admiral Squesha listened intently to the Empress's speach. She couldnt help but to be inspired. This moment was one of many that made all her sacrifices worth it. To be part of the force that would bring order and unity was a great honour. She was one of the first to applaud the speach, eager to show her appreciation.

Squesha had done her best to appear as proffesional as possible. She wore her finest red robes, inlaid with subtle curving patters. She also wore some signs of her position, namely gold epualettes and her rank insignia. And of course she had her rings. Squesha was sure she would impress.

She had just returned from Cholganna, her success in defeating a pirate fleet allowing her a brief reprieve from duty. And what better way to spend it than to make some new allies in the wider Empire? This could be a profitable night indeed.

She recognised the uniforms of the ISS and the inquisitorius talking about the galactic maptogether. That would be a good place to start. She walked over, her heels clicking elagently.

"So many worlds needing our guidance. And so many forces wanting to plunge them into further chaos. But at last we can put an end to that madness."

She looked at them formally.

"I am Admiral Squesha. Honoured to meet you.

Tag: Taregh Garon, Narantuyaa Asther

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

NEW ALDERAAN

The stars had not dimmed, but they had shifted.

Aether Verd could feel it even now as his gaze swept the ballroom: an ocean of polished boots and polished words, all dressed in veils of civility. His armor caught the chandelier light in full as he stood unmoving among the crowd, a war relic in a room of silks. He could feel eyes on him. Curious. Cautious. Calculating. That was to be expected. He had not come for comfort.

He had come to see.

A server passed nearby. Aether plucked a flute of dark Coreward wine from the tray and, without a word, placed it into Ze’bast’s gauntlet. The veteran was as tense as ever, but this wasn’t a battlefield. Not yet. Aether smiled beneath his helm. If the Empire insisted on hosting, then they could at least drink on the Empire’s credits. "Might be the last Imperial drink we get for a while..." he murmured low, a glint in his voice.

Delsin was already drifting into the crowd, all smooth lines and easy steps. Aether tilted his glass in salute. “Happy hunting!” he said simply. It wasn’t just a joke. Delsin had a nose for weakness and leverage alike. Let him sniff out what threads were worth tugging.

Beside him, Siv Kryze stood silent and unmoved. Aether didn’t expect conversation, but he bumped him lightly with an elbow anyway. Just enough to break the stillness. A tray passed by, stacked high with bacon-wrapped shrimp atop crackers polished like medallions. Aether lifted his chin slightly toward it, the faintest grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The look said it all: You seeing this?

And then, she came.

Blonde. Poised. A presence that drifted rather than walked. Her dress drank the light, a void in velvet form. She approached with grace but not fear, and when she spoke, her tone was that of someone who had seen power change hands more than once.

“Mandalore. Vanessa Vantai. A pleasure.”

He accepted her hand with a firm shake. Not crushing. Not distant. Present.

“Aether Verd. Likewise.”

She spoke of surprise at seeing Mandalorians at an Imperial function. He chuckled once, low and even. “First time meeting Imperials on their own turf,” he said. “You can thank Warlord Sularen for the invitation. Paid a visit to Mandalore himself. We spoke. I gave my word.”

He paused just enough to let it carry weight.

“And I keep it.”

He took a sip from his glass, then gestured slightly toward her with it. “And you? What role do you play in this fine machinery of order?”

Just conversation. But his eyes didn’t blink. His stance didn’t shift. He was here to learn. To judge. To listen through the noise and decide if this Confederation was fertile ground… or a trap of gold and ghosts.

Let the night speak.​

Onrai , Ze'bast Verd , Delsin Shaw , Siv Kryze , Narantuyaa Asther , Taregh Garon

 

[Onrai]

Tags: Narantuyaa Asther Taregh Garon Aether of the Iron Order Adean Castor Ze'bast Verd Delsin Shaw Siv Kryze Taregh Garon Squesha

"Verd?" She said, piping up with a modicum of surprise. "I haven't heard that clan name in a long time - I don't suppose you're related to an Isley Verd, are you?" It was surprising how history worked - she remembered Darth Metus from the one Sith and the Empire that had preceded it, when he was arguably the preeminent cornerstone of his clan. It had been decades, and she had lost touch with him, but the Verds' presence at the nexus of the Mandalorians had been hardly surprising.

So, Sularen had been the one to bring him here. Clever. Of course the former lord-regent of the Dark Empire had to seek political favor, what with its collapse having heavily eroded his own powerbase. He perhaps held the second-largest remnant of Imperial fleet assets, and certainly by quality his military goods were superior to Vanessa's own. Now it was time to further worm her way in with the Mandalore - the last time she had spoken with Mandalorian leadership, their leader had gone off the deep end and his regent seemed willing to throw away a perfect opportunity. "Sully has always been a faithful ally - and a man who always seeks to advance the grand Imperial vision, at any cost. He reminds me of a former admiral who served me - sadly he's no longer with us."

Perhaps this was similar to the situation that had brought the last Mandalorian Empire in line with the Sith all those years ago.

An inquiry. The initial broach to Vanessa. She smiled, effortlessly snaring a plate of the bacon-wrapped shrimps and crackers as they made their way to almost unnaturally delicate hands. A bite spoke to an unparalleled level of precision from the masqued being that lurked beneath the facade, one of the shrimps rapidly devoured and left as nothing but the husk of its tail. Her smile returned. "I am many things to many people. Warlord, politician, industrialist, financier, ambassador, ally... One of the downsides, or perhaps upsides, of living as long as I have is the number of faces you end up wearing." She sighed - even this was technically a mask. She certainly wasn't going to showcase her fully aberrant nature at a gala event and generate negative press for the Alliance sychophants to feed upon.

"A better question would perhaps yet be 'what role do I play to you?' I have been seeking for some time now to mend the... regrettable rift between the Imperials and the Mandalorians made many years ago through the actions of a certain Emperor. Unfortunately, at the time I last broached such an agreement, Mandalorian leadership was... not what it is now, and there were issues they needed to resolve." She expected he already knew of whatever strife had ultimately consumed the Enclave and led to the latest generation of Mandalorian rebirth.

"Perhaps we could yet discuss such a critical thing in the face of the Empire's current nominal reunification."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: OPEN //:
//: Dress //:

She walked gracefully into the den of wolves as if it were her funeral.

Quinn had managed to garner an invitation to the Imperial Gala. Recently, the Sith and the Imperials' relationship has been far from perfect, far from anything close to civil. She knew this was probably her worst idea yet, and to appear alone was even stupider. Still, this was something she needed to do that would allow her to be more than just a pretty face in the Empire.

The Princess wanted to be something more; her first steps were crucial.

Maybe in her foolishness, she could find common ground to bridge the tattered bridge between the Imperials and the Sith.

One could dream.

Her hands held the gown she wore. Each inch of the fabric hung perfectly and clung to the right curve of her lithe frame. The dress was beautiful, and Quinn felt almost empowered in it. It was something different than she typically would have worn. The plunging neckline was a new wardrobe addition—one that made her feel seen and beautiful. Still, she knew some wandering eyes would disapprove, but she didn't care.

The moment she entered and became lost in the crowd of people, Quinn found her comfort. At least here, she wouldn't be gawked at or stared at. In most cases, she would probably be ignored by most. Her reputation would proceed in this case, another reason she felt a hint of nerves.

Thankfully, the moment she pondered leaving, a waiter passed with champagne. Quickly, she took the glass and took a sip. The chilled, bubbly liquid calmed her mind as she settled into the role she had created for herself. Her shoulders rolled back, and her head stood proud.

She was a Princess, and she needed to act like it.

Continuing through the small crowd, she made some introductions and chatted with the friendlier groups. It didn't seem too bad, and many were impressed with her setting foot into the gala. They listened to her thoughts about the two Empires, and they seemed to understand—but even if they didn't, at least they gave her the respect to pretend like they were listening.

The Princess eventually pulled away and admired the decor; it reminded her of the parties on Jutrand - even some of the old parties on Bastion. A small sigh of nostalgia, but the girl persisted and continued glancing about the room, hoping she might see a familiar face.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Valery Noble //:
//: Alias/Cover: Tai Corde //:
//: Attire //:

Allyson adjusted the tie, loosening it so it hung from around her neck with a few buttons loosened. Despite not looking perfect for an event like this, the Corellian couldn't stand the tightness of the collar and the tie. Only a few things she could tolerate, but right now wasn't one of them, especially after everything that occurred leading up to this little mission.

Who would have guessed Valery Noble herself stepping into the pit of snakes?

Standing before the entrance, she held her arm for the woman beside her. They had worked their cover to present them both as leaders in the natural gas industry. With this cover, the pair would come across as married. It was awkward since Allyson had crafted the cover story of her wife's decision to stay home. It was an easy conversation starter, especially while wearing the plain aurodium band on her left ring finger.

The Imperials were the enemy of the Sith Empire, and the Alliance seemed to want to get to know them a bit better. Having worked together beforehand, this made sense. It was better to work together than to get stuck in a situation alone.

Val was the only person Allyson ever worked with more than once; they worked even as enemies.

Sighing softly, Allyson kept her eyes forward. "I didn't think they would accept my half-baked story at the front. I went through a lot of trouble to make up a story for my sick wife."

Despite the initial trouble, Allyson laughed and let herself settle into the stories they had crafted. Tonight, Allyson was Tai Corde, a young up-and-coming leader in the gas industry with ties to Bespin and a pathway through the Blackwall. The latter was more interesting since few could conduct trade, leave, or enter the Empire without clearance. This clearance would allow Tai and her lovely wife to rub elbows with more business Imperials.

As they passed through the first few security checks, Allyson blinked a few times, allowing her cybernetic eye to scan the room.

Multiple escape routes were calculated and filed away for later when they needed to leave. Lucky for Valery, Allyson calculated the woman into these escape routes.

"Perimeter checked and routes logged." She whispered, then exhaled softly as they finally entered the central area of the gala. Deep within the Imperial nation, they were just two people who sought business and information.

Falling quickly into her role, she looked to Valery with a softened face as she allowed the lie to take hold. "My love, you look gorgeous in this light."

Allyson or Tai leaned in and feigned a kiss on the woman's cheek.

Instead, she whispered playfully to her partner in crime.

Let's have some fun.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: dress

The lights of the gala shimmered against polished marble and mirrored pillars. Beneath the elegance, Valery felt her heart beating just a little faster — not because of the mission. Because of her. Allyson — or Tai, tonight — looked sharp despite the loosened tie and half-effort collar. That slightly disheveled edge somehow made it worse. Or better. Valery hadn't decided yet.

She stepped forward beside her, her heels clicking with confident grace as the slit of her black dress caught the light. The fabric clung like it had been poured onto her skin, the high neckline offset by the boldness of the cut, drawing just enough attention. From others. And perhaps from Allyson.

Valery slid her hand smoothly through the crook of Allyson's arm, her gloved fingers brushing lightly along the inside of her forearm. The contact was casual — should have been, anyway — but her pulse betrayed her, racing for a second too long before she reined it in.

"You worry too much," Valery murmured, her voice velvet-smooth. She tilted her head, lips brushing close to Allyson's ear as they walked past the first wave of eyes. Her eyes glinted, and for a brief second, the warmth in her expression was completely real. Sera Corde — elegant, poised, dangerously composed. Successful, loyal… and just this side of too perfect.

They passed into the heart of the gala, their bodies aligned, their rhythm effortlessly synced. Valery leaned into the kiss that never came, lips grazing the edge of Allyson's cheek, letting the scent of her cling.

Let's have some fun.

Valery's smirk curled as she responded just loud enough for only Allyson to hear.

"I thought you'd never say that."

Then, with a glance over the crowd and a sultry drop in her tone:

"Lead the way, dear — I'll follow your suit."

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

Taregh Garon Squesha Delsin Shaw +Open

"War is the Mandalorian way of life. Their warrior culture demands as such from them. One can hope that they will turn west to fight their hated enemy, the Jedi. But only the naive entirely rely on hope and plan for nothing else. We will prepare for the worst if need be. " Narantuyaa muttered quietly. It did worry her slightly at how stretched out the Imperial Confederation is. The planets on their frontier, vulnerable to attack. Either from Mandalorians, Black Sun pirates or even a Galactic Alliance Task Force from the Hapes Cluster. Even the core territory of the Confederation was in striking distance of the Sith vassal state. Sure unclaimed planets and regions separated the Confederation from potential threats. But they wont be unclaimed forever.

But just as Narantuyaa was about to continue her conversation, Onrai approached them both, most likely drawn to their topic of discussion​

"If such conflict occurs, it will not be because of us."
"The Sith made a similarly foolish decision once upon a time of courting the Mandalorians, only to burn such a relationship when they needed it most. Thus was the death of the second Sith Empire assured. Never burden the Empire with the guilt of such a decision, Inquisitor."

Narantuyaa didn't enitrely know who this person was. She wore only a dress but Narantuyaa thought something was off with this individual.

"Perhaps we should offer them with more courtesy than apprehension."

Narantuyaa didn't respond to that instead just watched the being walk over to speak to the Mandalore himself. She wasn't fond of the woman assuming that Narantuyaa or the Inquistor would strike firstaat the Mandalorians. Plans can be discussed in hushed tones without insuiating that the Imperials will strike first. It was her job to think everyone has the potential to become a threat to the Imperial Confederation. She is her Empire's immune system. She is a healthcare provider. She identifies germs and eradicates them, whether they arise from within or come from the outside. Still, there was reason in that woman's words. Neutralizing a threat via pacifying it with flattering words at a ball.

The click of heels caused Narantuyaa to look her left to watched the Quarren approach her. Her eyes went to the gold epualettes and the rank insignia. The Quarren introduced herself to which Narantuyaa provided a slight nod in return. "Admiral. A pleasure to see you in attendance." She then glance back at the holomap, lisenting to Squesha speak about stopping madness. "You can stop the disease, but curing will ensure it never comes back."


Another pair of footsteps. Narantuyaa was becoming mildly annoyed "My I am sure popular this evening." she muttered under her breath. She then turned behind her to see Delsin Shaw . One of the Mandalore's guards. She watched him do a slight bow of the head, before saying he wished for intermingling and had questions. Narantuyaa narrowed her eyes before then looked to her two compatriots for a brief moment then looking back. "I have no objections to you asking questions" she said in a neutral professional tone.

​

 

[Nolle Tron]

Objective: Mingle with the Imperial elite.
Location: Grand Ballroom, Imperial Citadel, New Alderaan
Outfit: Ball Gown
Entourage: Prystill Oasay
Tags: OPEN | Quinn Varanin
Dialogue Key: "Galactic Basic" | <<Theelin>>

One hour prior to arrival at the gala​

Nolle stood in her modest under garments staring at the dress that Prystill had chosen. Oval red eyes kept gravitating towards her dress uniform. She gave a bit of a huff. <<Why can't I just wear my uniform? It is plenty formal and I guarantee others will be wearing theirs.>>

The Theelin assistant gave a bit of a giggle, <<Did you not become a Prefect and come to New Alderaan to expand your horizons? Do you really want to do the minimum? What everyone else will do? What is comfortable?>>

The Near-Duros Prefect gave another huff as she took a step towards the dress. <<No, I suppose not. I have never been to an event like this. Don't you think that is enough discomfort?>> Nolle knew Pry was right, but still didn't like to give up a fight.

Arrival to the Grand Ballroom​

The awkwardness of the feel of wearing a dress was quickly forgotten when Nolle stepped foot into the ballroom. There were two very big reasons for that, and probably a couple small ones she hadn't noticed yet. Firstly, was Nolle's dedication to serving the Empire with honor. She could not let her own discomfort affect how she represented the Empire. Secondly, there were so many unfamiliar presences that her business training told her not to show weakness.

The Empress' speech to start the night served to increase Nolle's determination to put forth a good showing for herself. Her eyes scanned the ballroom as the speech came to a close. She was searching for a familiar face, but it was difficult in this event. She hadn't had time to meet all the prefects, governors or supervisors she would be working with. Now she was in a room with any number of those people, plus Imperial socialites, plus representatives from other governments. The last was solidified to Nolle as her scan sighted attendees in Mandalorian armor.

"There is no perfect approach," Prystill whispered to Nolle. "Just walk out there and talk to the first person that crosses your path." She gave a slight nudge to encourage forward movement from Nolle before sinking back herself and perusing the event.

As Nolle accepted Pry's urging she moved forward. The first person that caught her eye was not a guest but a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Nolle resisted the urge. She needed to be at her best. However at the same moment a guest who wasn't feeling the need to refrain grabbed a glass.

The woman had brilliant blonde hair, a lithe figure and was wearing a dress that would make Nolle feel even more uncomfortable than the one she wore now. Nolle knew Pry was watching, so she took in a breath and stepped forward. "Greeting," Nolle started with a smile. "There are a lot of new faces in the crowd. I am Prefect Nolle Tron of Amarin."

 

[Delsin Shaw]

The strain of the political game was well within the confines of the Ballroom. As others would seek to indulge themselves on drink or feast, I hoped to make something of a headway. Interacting currently with the two that became three. A unique blonde individual walked forward to them as I had reached them. Then left without much and trading places with me as the Side of Aether. I guess there was some intermingling among others. I let it fade from my mind for now. Instead focusing on the two in front of me. The officer clearly was not in the mood. Or more so, having so many interruptions it seemed with the comment of her being popular. I smiled lightly and made a single passing comment.

"Popularity in a gathering can be a boon, as is a Curse."

She had opened up the floor. Making a note that she had no objections. However, she was rather hesitant of it. Surely like anyone would. Of course there was always the question of one who would prod deeply to find secrets or the like. Which was partly the intention. However, not to usurp, but more so to generate power between the two. One lifting the other, and the other returns the favor. Better for all involved.

"Oh do not feel like you have no right to object. If the question prods too much, then please, shut me down."

My eyes flowed between the two of them and seeing out of the side of my eye was another unique individual. I smiled lightly knowing that there was more royalty among the group in the ballroom. A particular princess of my people.

"This Imperial Confederation, how did it come to be foundational? So many Imperial political doctrines have been borne of the Dark Empire and other attempts to keep them alive. Are you seeking to bring back the dead imperials? Or forge your own path under a new flag?"

The question posed was to discern if this was a group trying to just revive older doctrines of the Imperial agenda, or even to try and follow the foot-steps of some greater leader. The Dark Empire fell because of poor management and how it was ruled by too many doctrines. A mix of Cultish Maw, the Sith Orders and their dogma for the darkness, and the Imperial elements did not seem to fit very well. Were they the imperial remains? or were they trying to move away from such and forge a new Imperial doctrine?

"I ask to understand where your footing is. You could say I am learning where your feet are, as to not step on them."

Quinn Varanin | Aether Verd | Nolle Tron | Squesha | Taregh Garon | Valery Noble | Allyson Locke | Onrai | Siv Kryze | Ze'bast Verd | Adean Castor