Faction |TIC| Imperial Unity Gala

[Selrik Lorcas]

OBJECTIVE: Mingle
LOCATION: Gala
​

Fashionably late. That was the objective. It wasn't as if he wasn't busy doing his duties anyway. The Empress could take time away from hers with ease, as could many others, but the work of a Moff never really ended. Even when he managed to get some sleep there was the chance he would be woken by someone that needed something about some other thing. It never failed to be that way. Not that he would complain about it. It was the life he had chosen and one he actually enjoyed. Running things, keeping the Empire safe and functioning, was what brought him a level of joy. He knew it might not others, but that didn't matter.

Surprisingly, he also entered without his usual Sentinels in tow. Mostly because he had them wait outside the ballroom. They were still nearby, but he didn't think their presence was needed in a room full of Imperial personnel having drinks, food, and perhaps dancing. The latter he hadn't done in, well, years. Probably now since the time he'd known the mother of his son. That was quite some time ago. Close to thirty years. He wondered if he could even manage the steps without stepping on toes now.

A server passed by with flutes of champagne and he took one without a second thought, lifting it to his lips for a sip. His eyes caught those of the Empress and he dipped his head to her. She nodded in greeting, but was clearly too busy to chat, under the circumstances. He decided to mill about the perimeter of the room, see who was there, see what people were up to. A lot of faces he had never seen before. Some more curious than others. But he was satisfied with the security of the event. Nothing untoward would happen here. If it did, it would be put down immediately. The Empress has her guard with her as well.

Was that the Mandalore himself? Interesting. Speaking with one of... them. He instinctively twisted the ring on his finger with his thumb, and then turned his gaze away. Crossing his arms over his chest, he held the rim of his glass to his lips, quietly tapping it against them, and occasionally drinking. It was curious how many outsiders had found their way into the gala. What they wanted he couldn't glean without talking to them, but for the moment, he wasn't in a rush to do so.

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Open​

 

[Lor'Vekka]

​

Something like this was completely foreign to her. Never in her wildest dreams had she believed that she would ever be invited to such an event. At least, not prior to her being freed from captivity and becoming a member of the Inquisitorious. As a slave, she'd never known anything but the cruelty of her master and his friends. There had been many of them. Too many of them. Even thinking about it now made her angry. She longed to place her hands around his neck and squeeze the life from him, squeeze so hard his eyeballs popped from his skull as he writhed in agony. He should suffer as she had.

But instead, she was free of him, with a purpose that afforded her the ability to punish people like that when the need arose. Though even now the mark of him still stung her, forcing her to wear a mask to cover part of her face and head out of shame.

She maneuvered through the throngs of people within the hall, standing out in her black dress and red skin. It wasn't surprising that many people looked at her, some with eyes that betrayed their desires. She wanted nothing to do with them, though. There was zero interest in any sort of romantic nature towards the majority of these people, but especially so towards anyone that looked at her in the same way that most tended to look at her species. She was not a piece of meat and she would not be treated as one, regardless of their station. Even as she walked she could feel a hand moving to where it didn't belong, and she stopped it with the Force, turning an eye to look at the Officer the hand belonged to.

"Do not touch that which does not belong to you without asking first," she said, staring at him before continuing on her way.

Knowing better than to harm him, because Inquisitors were a tightly leashed group, she made sure not to do so. The words and stopping him would have to be enough.

As she walked, she felt something. Something off. It gave her pause and her eyes turned to search over her surroundings. Several groups milled about, some talking to each other politely and others dancing. The bald head of Prefect Tron caught her eye, as did the woman she was talking to. He stared at her for a few moments, trying to place her, but all she could feel was that something was different about her, that she was a sensitive and that Vekka didn't know her. That was enough to make the Inquisitor antsy given the Empress was present and so were numerous other high ranking officials of the Confederation.

She moved towards the duo.

"Enjoying yourselves?" she asked of the two of them.

OUTFIT: LINK | GEAR: Lightsaber
TAGS: Nolle Tron | Quinn Varanin ​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

NEW ALDERAAN​

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

Siv Kryze remained still.

Stillness was armor, and he wore it better than most.

Aether's elbow nudged him lightly, a signal more than a gesture. A tray passed, absurdly regal, carrying bacon-wrapped shrimp nestled atop crackers like polished medallions. Aether's grin was unspoken, but clear.

You seeing this?

Siv didn't look away from the crowd, but the corner of his mouth tugged.

"War's changed," he murmured, just low enough for Aether to hear. "Used to fight for beskar. Now it's shrimp on parade."

That was all the indulgence he'd give to the moment.

Eyes were on them. The kind that smiled too much. The kind that took notes in real time. Some sizing up. Some already deciding.

And then—her.

Velvet moved like shadow, and her voice carried that deliberate cadence common among people used to shaping outcomes. Vanessa Vantai. She carried titles like medals, but wore them like options.

Siv didn't need to run the name. He already had.

She brought up Isley Verd. Of course she did. Old ghosts were a favorite game among Imperials—relics reanimated when convenient, forgotten when not. She spoke of the Sith, of alliances lost, of lessons learned too late.

And now, with a flick of the wrist and a diplomat's smile:

"What role do I play to you?"

Siv said nothing. She wasn't talking to him anyway.

He let Aether handle it. That was his role: the face, the voice, the handshake.

Siv's was different.

He scanned the room again. Conversations coiled like cables. Too many uniforms in one place. Too many agendas dressed as protocol. His visor pinged Narantuyaa's voice in the background. Cold. Efficient. The kind of tone used by people who'd already drawn contingency plans for everyone in the room.

Including them.

Another voice entered, smoother, stranger. A woman in a dress, speaking like she wasn't one. No armor. No insignia. Siv marked her anyway. Onrai , if the data-tag was right. She approached with words about mistakes, about guilt, and the Sith's failure to hold Mandalorian loyalty.

Siv heard her just fine.

So did every other tactician in the room pretending to sip wine while recalculating fleet movement.

He said nothing.

Let the others play diplomat.

He was here for one reason.

To see.

To judge the metal beneath the polish.

To decide if this Confederation was made of steel—or if it would buckle the first time real weight leaned on it.

And if it did?

He'd already made peace with that.A subtle shift in his stance, barely noticeable to anyone but Aether. He activated their private comm channel.
"Circling the room," he said, his modulated voice low. "Need to get a read on the rest of these players."

He didn't wait for acknowledgment. Didn't need to. Their understanding ran deeper than words. But protocol demanded he add: "Comm if you need extraction. Or better snacks."

The last part carried the barest hint of dry humor - just enough to take the edge off the warning beneath it. Because while this might be a gala, Siv never forgot what they truly were here: warriors in a den of wolves.

With that, he melted into the crowd, his movements precise and purposeful. Not fleeing the conversation, but strategically repositioning. The iron spike at his throat caught the light as he turned, a dull gleam against polished beskar - a silent promise that he wasn't going far, and that his vigilance remained unbroken.

Let Aether handle the politics. Siv would handle the rest - the unspoken threats, the hidden alliances, the real pulse of this gathering beneath its glittering surface. And if the night turned, if blades came out from under velvet gloves? Well.

That was when Mandalorians worked best anyway.

 

[Taregh Garon]

Narantuyaa Asther | Squesha | Onrai | Valery Noble | Allyson Locke | Delsin Shaw | Aether Verd​

---

When the Quarren came closer, their voice reaching out he would instinctively move aside and angle himself to offset the Field Commander permitting more room for others to join their conversation...

"Admiral."

...he nodded, the introductions were formal though members of the Inquisitorious were known for their secrecy and the intimidating presence others often found evoked near them...

"We are agreed, there are many worlds that would benefit from Imperial rule. Order will bring stability and stability will bring prosperity."

Moments before Vanessa Vantai had interjected, reminding the Field Commander and himself that the Sith had once foolishly made an enemy of the Mandalorians. She'd remind him not to burden the Empire with such decisions like those that were made years ago to which he'd nod, apparently thoughtfully...

"Decisions are for the Empress to me, we are all at her disposal."

...it was a very generic answer, very noncommittal. He was loyal to the Confederation but his misgivings were not unfounded as the Field Commander had pointed out herself; the Mandalorians were a Warrior culture and this inevitably drove them to war with their neighbors. In this perhaps it would be timing that was most important. If war was inevitable it need not happen to soon.

With all the mingling that occurred Taregh straightened. He could command a room, if necessary through force of will coupled with his physical stature but a room filled with Moffs, Officers, Diplomats, Dignitaries, etc; he was badly outnumbered. It was better to let others answer the direct questions.

As he stood tall, towering over the majority his head turned and reached out across the ballroom. He saw a woman in a dress accompanied by another clothed in a suit. Partners perhaps? It was difficult to say from the distance but his eyes watched her closely. There was something about her that caused him to stare longer than was polite.

Eventually his eyes turned back to those closest to him and he'd have replied to the man asking about the formation of the Confederation...

"Not unlike the new Mandalorian Empire. That is one thing we have in common, the Mando'ade and the Empire; we have many factions that splinter and come together and splinter again yet we always exist in one form or another. Even now there are Imperial elements unaligned with the Confederation and I am sure, Clans that do not recognize your Mandalore."

 

[Aether Verd]

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

NEW ALDERAAN

Siv indulged him.

That alone was enough to make Aether’s smile tick upward. Brief, slight, but real. A silent nod followed, offered to the Kryze warrior as thanks for the rare sliver of levity. It was a signal between brothers, an acknowledgment of how far they'd come. What once was blood and beskar was now... shrimp on parade.

How "far" they'd fallen. Or risen. Depending on how you looked at it. His focus returned to the Imperial.

"Verd?"

The word slipped from her lips with a touch of surprise, as if history had knocked on the door and she’d half-expected it to be a ghost. Her next question, however, earned a sharper glint in his eye.

“I am,” he said, smile returning with the ease of memory, “Isley’s son.”

Pride wasn’t something he flaunted. Not in name alone. But this wasn’t just a name. Isley Verd was a myth to some, a memory to others, and to him, a father whose shadow still stretched across the stars. That legacy, once a burden, had become armor. And on rare nights like this, it fit just right.

As she continued, his nod was polite but his thoughts were moving. “Sully,” she’d said.

Now that was interesting.

The infamous Marlon Sularen, butcher of systems, survivor of more governments than most bureaucrats could name...affectionately dubbed Sully? Aether’s amber gaze slid toward Siv briefly. Their eyes met, and though the Mand’alor didn’t so much as smirk, his gaze danced with amusement.

That was a name he'd file away for later.

He took a sip from his glass, eyes flicking back to the woman before him, just in time to catch the precision bite she made of one of the shrimp. It was almost surgical. Calculated. A show for the room, maybe, or perhaps just a habit she hadn’t unlearned. Either way, he watched without judgment.

“We live long enough, and the roles pile up,” he said, glass lowered. “I’ve found that to be true even in my short tenure. If wearing a dozen hats is what it takes for Mandalore to prosper, then I’ll wear them all. Proudly.”

Her question lingered in the air like perfume, soft but potent.

What role do I play to you?

Aether didn’t answer right away. He let it settle. Let the words bloom into meaning.

When he did speak, his tone was calm. Curious.

“I’ll be honest. I’m not here tonight seeking alliances. Not yet. I’m seeking understanding.”

He shifted his posture, just slightly. Not defensive, not aggressive. Just present.

“There’s been strife between our people. I’ve read it. Studied it. I’ve seen the wreckage it left behind. But I’ll admit something to you freely: I don’t understand Empires. Not in the way those born to them might. So let me ask you, Lady Vantai..."

A pause, and the faintest tilt of his head.

“You’ve lived long. You’ve worn many hats. You’ve seen Emperors rise and fall. Why stand with an Empire now? And why not take the crown yourself, given your talents? What does the throne offer you that your own hands cannot build?”

Before she could reply, movement to his right caught his attention.

Siv. Slipping away. Not as retreat. As intent.

Aether nodded once: a quiet blessing. There was no need for words. If Hell decided to crash the gala tonight, Siv Kryze would meet it with fire and blaster bolts. That was enough.

And then… it struck.

A chill. A whisper of winter.

He didn’t see her at first. He felt her...the way you feel the first snow before it falls. A glint of familiarity in the air. A pulse behind his ribs. His mind’s eye painted her before his gaze confirmed it: Quinn Varanin.

The Princess.

Or as he once dared to call her, in the folly of youth and the freedom of simpler days: Quinnie.

He wouldn't say it aloud. Not here. Not unless he wanted a shoe thrown at his head in full view of the galaxy.

But the smile he gave her was honest. Warm. An open door. No pressure. No expectation. Just the unspoken invitation to step back into a conversation years in the making. And then he turned once more to the Imperial before him, his full attention hers once again, his voice unreadable but open.

“If you'll indulge me,” he said gently, gesturing with his glass. “Paint me a picture.”​

Siv Kryze , Quinn Varanin , Onrai + Nearby

 

[Onrai]

Speaking with: Aether Verd
Tags: Narantuyaa Asther Taregh Garon Aether of the Iron Order Adean Castor Ze'bast Verd Delsin Shaw Siv Kryze Quinn Varanin Allyson Locke Valery Noble Nolle Tron Selrik Lorcas Lor'Vekka

Confirmation struck the ancient being. Even the gods were not omniscient, pale imitations of their Maker - yet the cycle continued. Presuppositions were forged in association with lines of logic that yet speculated within the pernicious entity as to the path the Mandalorian Empire would take under his domain. Perhaps he would yet follow his father's path to the darkness - or to other, more esoteric things. A speck of her pondered over the idea of inquiring if he was by blood or by adoption, but she knew in the end it mattered not.

"May you be, as all sons hope to be, a better leader than your father."

It was not said with insult or sarcasm - more sincerity, a wish that perhaps the son would outperform the father. This meeting would certainly be something to store away, a memory to dredge up were she to ever meet the elder Verd yet again.

And so the door opened on Mandalore's prosperity. "Is the planet still half-decimated, as it was the last time I visited, or have restoration efforts substantially progressed?" Her future course of discussion along the line she hoped to pursue depended on his answer to that question even as discussions yet furthered. It was to him whether he wished to know of her prior visitation - and the offer she had given to Mia Monroe once upon a time.

The Mandalore discouraged outright association - something to perhaps be fed into, slowly but surely. The question he asked was one that would perhaps betray motivations were Vanessa still a Sith. As she pondered in the few seconds, observing Aether's gaze, she too sensed the arrival of Quinn Varanin . The last time the two had spoken at any substantive length was when she was but a meager apprentice, one the then-Sith Lord had indicated her willingness to assist even as she had selected another as her acolyte. It took little to understand the implication that the Mandalore was giving, a desire to speak with her as well even as his attention returned to the blonde before him.

"Many, many years ago, likely before you were even born, I was on the world of Dromund Kaas. I watched Mikhail Shorn send the body of Tyrin Ardik through the rubble of the Imperial throne. It was a powerful experience, one that planted the first doubts in my mind of the convention of Sith ideology. Oh, I stayed a Sith well past that point until I... gained a greater understanding of the universe's strings, some of which you may wish to learn yourself, but it clarified that an Empire requires one thing to last. Stability."

A tray of wine passed by, a stray hand outreached as a glass gently floated from the passing server to Vanessa's grasp. Even the very use of whatever power she had used to bring the drink to her hand (and subsequently to her lips) was yet... aberrant, as she swallowed a sip and continued.

"Empires function because of a monopolistic leader, who wields enough power to keep ideology orthodox and prevent infighting. Infighting only aids the Empire's enemies. The Sith have failed in imperialism because their inherent nature lends to infighting, to predation on even their more successful leaders. Chaos is rewarded, not order. And yet a good ruler - Emperor, king, Mandalore - is far more preferable to rulership by the populus, a chaos even the most maddened of Darksiders could never hope to possess. To a degree, that level of chaos was evident in the Maw, factions fighting and undermining each other as much as they did their enemies."

She looked in the distance at the Empress, who yet mingled with others in the Confederation's cocktail of gala-goers as speculation bubbled much like the soft foam of the wine she yet supped from. "Suppose I submitted to that urge all who've touched the darkness in their heart yet have. Suppose I did decide to snap the Empress and her bodyguards in half like a twig, to seize power over an Empire that has only now reintegrated after decades of infighting. What then? Do I magically inherit the loyalties of the people she previously formed alliances with? Do my deeds inspire fear and subordination to me instead of vengeance? Do I possess the economic and military resources to justify their subordination to my whim?"

She took another sip. "Of course not. I merely contribute to the problem instead of trying to solve it, as the Enigma is yet made to do. For whatever weaknesses she may have, Empress Deschart possesses something neither I nor Sully nor any other potential contenders for rulership yet have. She possesses the loyalty of enough people to justify unity instead of conflict. If the Empire - the greater Empire, not whatever someone claims to be the Empire - ever seeks to achieve any goal, that unity must be preserved by any means necessary without risk of destabilization. Even at a compromise." She said, her focus returning to the Mandalore himself.

"Accruing loyalty is key to stability. I have men who were serving the old Emperors that have been loyal to me since before the founding of the One Sith. With them I rebuilt Kinoss, Ool, Ord Mantell, and other places best whispered of. They've fought in over a dozen galactic conflicts because I was able to assure them of the stability that kept their loyalty in place. Well, that and faith, but I'm sure plundering the tomb of the man whose legions drove the Taung from Notron is something less important at the moment." She laughed, curious to hear his response to her words, to the answer to his question and another step further towards unraveling the Enigma.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Nolle Tron //: Lor'Vekka //:
//: Dress //:

Quinn sipped on the champagne, wanting to commend whoever had chosen the vintage. It was perfectly light on the palate and didn't leave a strong aftertaste. It was crisp and delicate, perhaps a perfect example of the budding Empire. The Empress' speech was enlightening, and Quinn found herself feeling almost empowered by her words. They had made a mark on the galaxy, and Quinn looked forward to seeing what more they had to offer.

In the back of her mind, she hoped that whatever hurdle the Imperial war had created, she could figure a way to bridge it. A thought that required more time than she had tonight, so she decided to enjoy the moment.

While she enjoyed the atmosphere, she could feel the eyes of another upon her. It wasn't hard to find them; they seemed to be the only two of their kind in the room. His ( Delsin Shaw ) face was familiar enough, and she offered him a knowing smile that curved gently at the corner of her lips and was just as inviting as it was dangerous. She held his gaze for a moment, and as he looked away, Quinn did as well.

A voice requested her attention, causing the Princess to turn. Looking over at the woman ( Nolle Tron ) who had introduced herself, Quinn realized that she had never met a Duros face to face before, so this was a new experience. Her smile widened as she nodded.

"Pleasure," she started as she offered her hand. "Princess Quinn Varanin." The princess paused for a moment, wondering if she should mention Eshan or the Sith Empire. "Of the Eleventh Sith Empire." She smiled with a gentle nod.

"I understand that many here aren't willing to associate with me, but I'm curious how much your regime differs. I'm here in the hope of some peace, at least." Her intentions were pure; she didn't want anything more than just a chance to mingle and get to know their northern neighbors. If anything, perhaps something could eventually come out of it.

"I've never met a Prefect before; what duties do you perform?" Quinn questioned, her voice showing her curiosity.

As she spoke with the Prefect, another made their way towards Quinn. The Princess hadn't expected anyone to approach her, and now there were two brave enough to step forward. Quinn turned her attention towards the new arrival ( Lor'Vekka ). Her sweet smile widened as she nodded towards the Twi'lek woman.

"I am. The event has been wonderful and quite welcoming." She looked towards the champagne flute and gave a playful smirk, "Please tell me you were the genius behind the champagne choice. If you are, you must let me know the varietal. It's superb."

Tilting her head slightly, a hand brushed back the silver strands of hair behind her ear as she prepared again to introduce herself. She felt a bit more confident with her status. A hand again extended delicately as she continued her gentle smile.

"Princess Quinn Varanin of the Eleventh Sith Empire."

 

[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>>

Nolle's red eyes blinked for a moment when Quinn announced herself a Princess. Her breath caught when the mention of the Sith Empire followed the title. She had never met a Princess. That was not a popular title in Imperial space. Those who claimed it most often lived very short lives and regretted it. Something told Nolle however that the Sith Princess would not be harassed too badly during the gala. While most of the Confederation had varying levels of distaste for the Sith, an attack at such an event as this would be dishonorable.

"I for one am very glad to meet you, Princess," Nolle responded with sincerity. She was not a warrior. Her goals at the moment were to broker as many relationships as possible to ensure that the Confederation was not isolated the way the Empire of the Lost had been. She and the Princess might end up on opposite sides of a war, but there would at some point need to be an exchange of diplomacy. "I will admit your attendance will be problematic to some though."

The Near-Duros smiled at the interest shown in her duties. She would have thought such things below a Sith Princess. As Nolle was about to get into her duties they were joined by another. A striking Twi'lek who carried herself in a different manner than most of her kind that Nolle had encountered. Having little interest in affairs of the Force, Nolle had no knowledge of the position Lor'Vekka held within the Confederation. It was her mission to be social with everyone.

"The night seems to be a great success. I am enjoying it greatly," Nolle answered the Twi'lek with a smile and nod of her head.

The Princess's interest in the champagne made the Prefect wonder if she should indulge. It was what one does at parties right? She motioned for the waiter to bring her a glass. "To answer your question Princess, a Prefect acts as the representative of a loyal citizen within the Empire. Unlike a Senator in the Alliance however, our job is to make sure that the Empress's grave is successfully trickled down to the masses, not the masses representative to influence change. My specialty is economics, but I am hoping to branch out. Probably a boring life to consider for a Princess."

 

[Her]

---

---

"For the present, the more covert we remain, the more influence we can have."
-- Darth Tenebrous.

---

New Alderaan, Ash Worlds, Outer Rim Territories;
New Aldera, The Imperial Citadel, Grand Ballroom.
Tags: Onrai | Taregh Garon | Narantuyaa Asther | Aether Verd | Ze'bast Verd | Siv Kryze | Delsin Shaw

---

Among the throng of the galactic elite-- dignitaries of the Imperial Confederation, Mandalorians and Sith Lords-- a striking female of a mysterious nature stood among a group of Prefects and Liasons from the Commission for the Establishment of Civilian Interests (COMECI) in the midst of a conversation regarding the internal politics of the confederation. The conversation revolved around rumours regarding the recent fall of the Empire of the Lost and the alleged Sith involvement in the Imperial myth that was the Fifth Wing.

Some were ecstatic with recent events citing the resurgence of Imperialism along the Outer Rim Territories following two years of stagnancy under the Kilran Dynasty. Others were more cautious in voicing their opinions. What they all shared in common was the way they had gained some insight into recent developments in the upper echelons of the confederation. In the form of the Warden Primus-- the new face of the Imperial Corrections Directorate-- they had a powerful friend who had access to information that they did not. Information brokering in exchange for political clout would serve Her's interest in the upcoming year with sights on the Thandon Star Cluster and the anticipation of enacting her revenge against THE KAINITE.

Two years of conspiracy would culminate in the advent of the next Star War and as she listened to her associates (all of whom were directly linked to the Imperial Sector Authority- one of the three states to the confederation) her crimson eyes surveyed the ballroom. How many of them would be involved in the upcoming conflict she had been stoking towards since the turn of the ninth century? As she looked around Her settled her gaze upon the throng of Mandalorians and Imperials who had gathered in quiet conversation. In particular they eyed Onrai and although she had focused her powers in the dark side to conceal her powers from detection from the other Force-sensitives present Her could not help but gap a little at the sight of Vanessa Vantai.

The events above Bastion at the turn-of-the-year was not just an aberration. In the months since the Sartinaynian Crisis, Her had not pondered upon the confrontation with the entity that she had encountered on board The Quest. Imagination had now turned itself into reality-- the spectre of Darth Ayra 's master had attacked her while she had saved Lyssara Thrynn from the clutches of the Fifth Wing and now here they were again in this most odd of settings given their shared history.

It was said that Vantai-- formerly known as Pandeima-- had been betrayed by her apprentice through the culmination of their Rule of Two. Ayra would go on to train a new disciple in the DEEP CORE enamoured by the idea that through destruction she had bred creation. All this time later they were both here with just a few mere steps separating them fresh off the clash over Bastion. It had not been a trick of the dark side, or her imagination as she had been led to believe.

Darth Pandeima still lived.

"Excuse me," Her said to her associates as she walked across the ballroom towards MAND'ALOR THE IRON and the other guests which had surrounded him with their crimson eyes fixated on Onrai set to make a confrontation fifty years in the making.

AYRA... AYRA... AYRA!​

---

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

A number of Trade Federation Shuttles had touched down on the historic world of New Alderaan, which now serves as the center of the Imperial Confederation a loose alliance of warlords, admirals, and a few force users from the former Empire of the Lost and the Dark Empire prior to its downfall.

They undoubtedly represented the latest form of Imperialism on the galactic stage, and wherever Imperials gathered, there were chances to profit, which naturally attracted the Trade Federation of Planets. From the interior of one of the shuttlecraft on the landing platform, the Trade Monarch of Neimoidia and its Purse-Worlds, Lodd Grimmin, emerged.

He wielded considerable power and influence within both the Galactic Alliance and the Trade Federation. Seated in a mechno-chair, a remarkable piece of Neimoidian engineering embellished with elaborate designs, he made his way down the ramp towards the Imperial ballroom, having just arrived after the Empress delivered her address.

His gaze drifted across the attendees, from Mand'alor the Iron Aether Verd to what appeared to be Valery Noble but he was completely uncertain. (Passing Reference)

The Alliance had successfully engaged in diplomacy on Mandalore to prevent a recurrence of the Neo-Crusader offensive, at least for the time being though he did not have all the facts related to what they agreed upon. This was concerning news for the war profiteers who had anticipated another conflict involving the Mandalorians.

He noticed Moff Selrik Lorcas in the corner of the room, seemingly lost in thought or perhaps overwhelmed by the diverse crowd of individuals from various backgrounds and social standings.

"Ah.... it appears you're not quite enjoying the gathering. I can guess the reason, but where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Trade Monarch Lodd Grimmin of the Neimoidian Purse-Worlds, though you probably already knew that." He gave a quick smile.

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

Delsin Shaw + Taregh Garon + Open

"Mmm, yes. All dependent on the situation you find yourself in."Narantuyaa replied in a flat tone in response to the man's comment about popularity being a boon or a curse. Narantuyaa grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing server for her to nurse on while conversed. Her eyes drifted to the crowd, seeing more and more faces enter the gala. So many..honored guests here at the Imperial gala. Far more than Narantuyaa would have liked. There were many faces Narantuyaa haven't seen before. Only makes her job of trying to read them and keep tabs on them much more difficult.
​

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

Narantuyaa sipped her champagne as she focused back on the man. Maybe his words are truthful. But there was always underlying tone to each thing someone would say. Does he want to know how our footing is so he can determine how hard he kick our legs to see us buckle? Or hard does he need to shake the foundation before we fall over? Is this him trying to guage if the Imperials can stand toe to toe with Mandalore either as enemies or allies? All these questions, flooding Narantuyaa's mind as the Inquistor answered the man's question. She gave a nod in aggreement

"Like in all things, people come together to work towards a united goal. The path to that goal can be hazardous, trials and tribulations that threaten the cohesion of the group. Some groups succeed. Some fail. Some reform to try again. A shared thing for both Imperials and Mandalorians. Both groups have gone through different phases, name changes and goals. For us, it was Dark Empire, Empire of the Lost and now Imperial Confederation. For you it was Enclaves, Neo-Crusaders and now Empire."

Narantuyaa swirled the champagne in her glass for a moment. "What do you seek to do underneath your new Mandalore? To simply carry on the goals of the past incarnations of your people or are you hoping to forge something anew? I ask this to learn where your line is, so we don't accidentally cross it." Answering a question with another question. Not entirely unreasonable but Narantuyaa wasn't going to divulge such ambitions to this man.

​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

I M P E R I A L_U N I T Y

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
NEW ALDERAAN, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

​

It was rare for Sularen to find himself attending public events. Socialization wasn't really a strong suit for Sularen, who preferred to invest a large amount of his time working towards the advancement of the Imperial cause in his capacity as Supreme Commander of the Imperial Confederation. Today was the exception however, given that he was now attending a Gala hosted by the Imperial Confederation, which at least made it a bit more comfortable given the event's Imperial nature. Furthermore in addition to the native high-profile Imperials, dignitaries from all over the galaxy were set to attend, which created the perfect opportunity for Sularen to expand his connections across the galaxy even more.

As the Empress finished her speech, Sularen proceeded to chug down his glass of Corellian Wine before handing over the empty glass to one of the servers as he decided to wonder around the ballroom to examine the individuals present and who to approach. At his side was his trusted subordinate and personal aide, ISS Regional Overseer Rackham who followed him as he went around the ballroom. Among the non-Imperial dignitaries there were members of the Mandalorian Empire and the Sith Order present, although it seemed that the Mandalorians were currently preoccupied for the time being.

Eventually, a pair of individuals caught the Supreme Commander's attention, that being a pair of individuals who appeared to be conversing with each other. Rackham eventually caught notice this and took a quick look at the pair before eventually identifying them via his datapad which contained all available information on the guests attending the gala. "Tai Corde, a rising star in the mining industry with connections to Bespin. The individual next to her is her wife, Sera Corde." Rackham stated. "Tai is also said to have a pathway through the Blackwall." he added. "The Blackwall?" Sularen inquired, unfamiliar with the Sith Order's policy. "An isolationist policy adopted by the Sith Order in which they cut themselves off from the greater galaxy with a few small exceptions given to certain individuals." Rackham replied.

"So basically a Sith version of the Confederacy First Doctrine." Sularen remarked, making a call back to the previous iteration of the CIS's protectionist policy that they adopted during their final days. "In a certain sense yes." Rackham said. "Hum. The Navy could use the Tibanna Gas." Sularen said as he stroked his beared pondering whether to approach the Cordes or not. "I should note that there is a risk with potentially working with the Cordes. The fact that they can bypass the Backwall indicates that they might have greater connections within the Blackwall itself." Rackham cautioned.

"Well that's where the ISS comes in." Sularen said. "Currently as it stands, the Imperial Confederation and the Sith Order haven't established official ties, so there is no risk in making deals with their people. The Navy can work with the Cordes to gain access to the Tibanna and the ISS can keep watch from the shadows ensuring the Sith don't try to use this to get a backdoor into the Confederation." the Supreme Commander added. "Very well then if you insist." Rackham said, conceding to Sularen's suggestions.

"Then it's decided then. We shall meet with the Cordes." Sularen said as both he and Rackham began to make their way towards the Cordes with the Supreme Commander grabbing another glass of Corellian Wine on the day. It would be business as usual, as Sularen would move forward to further advance the Imperial cause for the sake of securing a greater future for Imperialism in the galaxy.

Tags | Allyson Locke | Valery Noble ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Valery Noble //: Marlon Sularen //:
//: Attire //:

There had always been a magnetic pull between them - something electric that Allyson had long ago accepted she couldn't fully control. She tried her best to ignore it, knowing how deeply it complicated their tangled history.

She had betrayed Valery on Woostri, yet somehow, that moment had only strengthened the invisible thread that connected them. Allyson had tried to sever it, to erase the last lingering ties to her past as a Jedi. Still, the thought of truly losing Valery left a hollow ache she wasn't prepared to face.

Especially now, when their connection felt like their only safety net.

Damn the Force.

Allyson couldn't stop her smile from widening as Valery turned toward her. Just like old times, Valery indulged her impulsive schemes and reckless ideas. No matter how outlandish, they always managed to pull through together.

"Just like old times," she whispered softly with a small laugh. "Seems I'll never be able to escape you."

Pulling back slightly, Allyson tried not to let her eyes linger too openly on the dress Valery - no, Sera - had chosen. Her gaze softened as her hand instinctively slid down her wife's back, settling gently, warmly claiming with affection but without possession.

She leaned closer again, speaking quietly, her voice sincere. "I meant what I said earlier. You look beautiful tonight."

After a lingering pause, Allyson forced herself to refocus on the crowd. It was time to get to work. Her cybernetic eye scanned the faces, rapidly identifying individuals and pulling up their dossiers.

She mumbled quietly, summarizing her observations.

"Looks like some of the inquisitors and prefects are here," she noted softly, glancing toward another cluster of delegates. Her brow rose slightly. "Even Lodd Grimmin decided to show up." Allyson turned slightly toward Valery. "Didn't the Alliance have something going on with the Trade Federation for a while?"

It was a question Valery might or might not answer; Allyson wouldn't hold it against her if she chose silence. After all, tonight, Allyson was the Hand and apprentice of the Emperor, and Valery was the Grandmaster of the NJO. The politics would inevitably create distance.

Continuing her survey of the guests, Allyson quietly listed them out. "The Mandalore, the Sith Imperial Princess, and—" her smile grew almost mischievous, "—Marlon Sularen. Didn't expect to see him here." Her lips twitched into an amused grin; she'd hunted Sularen in the past, surprised he'd survived long enough to appear at such a gathering.

"They say he's in charge now," she elaborated, only to pause abruptly when she saw Sularen and his assistant glance their way. They seemed to have drawn attention.

"Oh," Allyson whispered, amusement flickering across her features. "It looks like he's finally decided to join us. It's time to act like a hopelessly in-love married couple - not that you'll have any trouble with that."

A playful and affectionate smile lit Tai's face as she lifted her hand, fingertips gently brushing the line of her wife's jaw. She allowed the touch to linger, sharing the intimate moment before leaning in, taking in their closeness, enjoying it before the facade resumed. It made her mind think of another that she missed achingly at this moment.

When Marlon and his assistant approached, Tai gracefully pulled back, expression shifting seamlessly into polite composure. Her Imperial accent returned flawlessly, smooth, and polished as she spoke.

"Hello," she greeted warmly, turning from Sera just enough to acknowledge the newcomers but keeping her hand protectively at the small of her wife's back. "Tai Corde and this is my lovely wife, Sera Corde."

Extending her hand confidently, she waited for the Supreme Commander's response, quietly amused by the ironic twist of fate that had brought them here tonight.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

A small smile and a light chuckle escaped my lips when both of the individuals spoke. The man, clearly someone who was not quite used to these gatherings but was doing well considering the circumstances, spoke first. Making mention of how many Imperial factions have differences in ideals and the application of such. Therefore, many splinters came from the same tree in a sense. I nodded my head at his explanation when the officer spoke up. Voicing a very similar sentiment, but worded differently in the contexts of deliberate names of political factions that had formed and fallen. The swirl of her glass and a tone that showed she was also playing the game I had set foot upon.

"I fear you have me wrong officer. I am no Mandalorian. I hold nothing of their Resol'nare nor to their Manda'lor. They are not my creed, or blood. I am an advisor to to the current Mandalore of Iron. My will is my own, not to that of him. However, I respect him, and follow him because it aligns with my personal values and agenda."

My hands folded on themselves. Holding together in a relaxed stance and looking between the two. Head tilted lightly with a soft smile in the conversation.

"I am Delsin Shaw. An Echani Interloper and aid of the Mandalorian Empire. My job is to find the lines the Empire won't cross, cages that hold them, and break them for the sake of their people. So do not fret. You will never cross a line I have not already done so."

I deep breath and a slow exhale before I continued. Eying between the both of them as this conversation was quite interesting to me. Enjoyable even. Which was a rare taste these days.

"May I inquire as to who you are? Would be nice to put a name to a face O'Imperials of the Confederation."

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

 

[Lor'Vekka]

​

Ahh, so the one was a Prefect. At least she was an Imperial, then. It meant that Vekka wasn't alone in dealing with the other woman. The other woman that was quite striking in appearance. Her eyes couldn't help but rove, though she had multiple reasons for doing so. First of which was to see if the woman was carrying a lightsaber somehow hidden on her person. She hoped that the people at the entry had done their job, but given that she was a Princess of the Sith Empire-

Wait, Sith Empire?

Vekka narrowed her gaze a bit and her fingers itched to reach for the circle of metal that she wore at the small of her back. An Inquisitor never went anywhere without their blade. They couldn't. Rogues or unaffiliateds could choose an event like this to attack to cause maximum collateral. She couldn't allow that to happen. It was why she was allowed to keep her blade. That an utter fealty to the Empress. She had no history of even being tempted to turn against the woman. And since the Gala had allowed outsiders in, Knights and Inquisitors HAD to be present.

"Sith..." she practically hissed.

Sith were an abomination to the Empire. They were outsiders. Usurpers. Incompatible with the Confederation. Why was she here? What did she want? She clearly seemed to be enjoying herself with her drink and that appeared to be her focus. Maybe she just wanted to get away and do some wining and dining? Maybe she needed a break from it all? Or maybe she was there to spy on them? Or kill the Empress? No, doubtful. She didn't seem like that sort. She seemed... different.

Vekka felt conflicted.

"I did not choose the Champagne, no. I'm an Inquisitor, not a caterer, though I'll take your word for it on it being a good one and be sure to let them know."

Her body language was a mix of unease and a desire to be relaxed. It was difficult and her fingers kept fidgeting with her dress as a result.

"What brings you to Confederation space, Princess Varanin? I'm sure our Prefect here would love to know as well."

OUTFIT: LINK | GEAR: Lightsaber
TAGS: Nolle Tron | Quinn Varanin ​

 

[Taregh Garon]

---

Narantuyaa Asther and he gave similar responses answering Delsin Shaw though the Field Commander was more in depth.

Nodding his head once his eyes set upon Delsin after he'd introduced himself, there was a silence from him thereafter as he considered before he replied...

"My name is Taregh Garon."

...or Inquisitor Garon in a more official setting however this was a Ball meant for mingling, potentially to make contacts. It interested him to learn that the Echani was not a Mandalorian but rather an advisor to the current Mandalore, likely because that was a rarity. Often, according to his experience Mandalorian's preferred to keep counsel with members of their own creed and culture; it had the potential to serve them well by using the expertise of outsiders to their advantage.

Turning his head once again, his height ensuring his gaze stretched far as he looked over the various groups that were beginning to form. Officers of the Confederation had assembled to network in the majority of cases but the Mandalorians had appeared to have fanned out, inserting themselves amongst the Imperials. There was one conversation occurring at a distance that appeared to have his interest more than the rest.

A Cater came near, offering him champagne but a cant of the head conveyed his refusal prompting them to move on.

As his eyes rose again he'd look between the Field Commander and the Echani to state...

"Field Commander, excuse me but there's a matter I must attend to."

...and then...

"I imagine your role to be highly dependent on the individual in command. There are guidelines that often blur under the right circumstances."

Once he'd left the previous conversation he would have stalked across the Ballroom, Officers and Dignitaries instinctively making a path for the enormous figure as he moved. He'd have closer to a trio that included Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen and two others, Allyson Locke and Valery Noble whom he'd heard referred to by the name Corde. Nolle Tron , Imperial Prefect was also present. As he moved into the conversation via the sidelines he'd make his apologies...

"Supreme Commander. Prefect. Apologies."

...before his eyes turned to set on the woman known as Sera Corde...

"A moment of your time? There's a minor issue with security. If you could accompany me it won't take long."

...it was in the interest of the Inquisitor, or the Inquisitorious to go into detail. The Unity Gala's purpose was to promote the intermingling of the different Imperial branches as well the dignitaries from different Governments, Corporations, etc but security was still of the utmost importance.

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

​

Selrik shifted his gaze ever so slightly to the side to fall upon the person who had spoken to him. A Neimoidian. Probably Trade Federation. As he continued speaking, that was confirmed. Selrik took another sip from his glass of champagne before looking back to the gathered crowd.

"On the contrary," he said, "I do rather enjoy events such as these, but sometimes one needs a moment to breath and collect oneself. Plus, I arrived late due to having to take care of some matters."

After a few more moments of scanning the crowd and deciding he really didn't want to deal with people like Vanessa, or the various Inquisitors he saw milling about, he turned his full attention to the Trade Federation representative and extended his hand to them.

"I can't say I knew who you were before you introduced yourself. I have trouble with visual distinction amongst Neimoidians."

That was completely true. He found the majority of them looked so much alike that he couldn't tell one from another unless they were wearing something that gave them away. It wasn't a speciest thing. Selrik didn't ascribe to that side of ancient Imperial philosophy. Didn't matter what they looked like as long as their loyalty was to the Empire. Which, frankly, the Neimoidians wasn't, but the Trade Federation was still a galactic power when it came to the corporate sector, and trade was important even for the Confederation.

Not that he knew what the Trade Federation was at the Gala for just yet.

"What brings you to our gala, Monarch Grimmin?"

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Lodd Grimmin ​

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

Delsin Shaw +Open

Narantuyaa sipped her glass as she listened to Delsin respond to both her and the Inquisitor. The fact the man before them was not a Mandalorian but rather in fact just an advisor to the Mandalore himself did perk her interest. It is not every day you hear that a non Mandalorian rises so high in station. She simply nodded at Taregh when he informed her that he had an important matter to attend to. A small part of her didn't want him to leave so soon so they could continue their other conversation. Nevertheless, he probably sees something she has not yet.

"Narantuyaa." she replied to Delsin. "That is my name." Narantuyaa sat down her half drunk champagne glass on table next to her "Your job description is less of an advisor and more of a wrecking ball. I find it quite intriguing that the Mandalore would rather have you break cages for his people rather than do it himself. You must have a set of skills that greatly impress him, Advisor Shaw."

It does beg the question on why Mandalore is seeking outside assistance. There could be a variety of reasons to explain this. Not enough time in this moment to run through all of them. Something to ponder after this gala.

​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

The man who introduced himself as Taregh Garon presented himself easily. No titles, no extras. Just the name. Very informal but understood. As the individual who came up to him, in a public setting and just started asking questions that could be potentially harmful to answer. As was any kind of formal setting in which politics played a role. A light bow of my head to the man as he excused himself from the conversation with Field Commander Narantuyaa. While the rank was provided my Mr. Garon, the name provided by the lass. Once more bowing my head to her with the more formal introduction to each other.

"I admit yes, the description is less advisor."

A more than small chuckle at the explanation. Surely it would have been understood that the title of advisor was inherent to what the job was, and the extra was what I also provided to the table. However, I added with my continuation and waxing of what I did with Aether Verd and his crew.

"I am an advisor first and foremost in all its capacity. Be it whatever he requests me to give credence to. However, as an independent of his Knights, Sages and Commandos, there are some things that are held back by the red tape of politics, state sanctions, Morality, or otherwise. He surely can break chains and cages around his own people. That is of no consequence. More so, when it pertains to others outside of his, shall we say influence, is where I operate."

There was not much more room to expand on what my job was. An independent contractor by his Writ of Iron. I am an advisor on certain things. Aid to his people. I do not replace what he already has. More so I act as another tool for him to use. Should I be of willing participation in such use.

"My skills, while not unique to many other societies or cultures, are still valuable even among his people. This Mandalore of Iron is not afraid to be have aid when necessary. More so, he picks when he wants to see it be used. Just as like an Officer such as yourself. Field Commander, a rank not given lightly. You have your own obligations to fulfil. Its a contract all the same. Just written differently in how closely tied one is to the signer, and the forger."

Now was the time to expand.

"Speaking of, an inquiry as to what you do for the Confederacy? You seem well adjusted to dining and drinking in this atmosphere. No mere pen pusher and approval of parchment. Your mind is sharp, and wit is quick. Not something they would teach at any Academy or Imperial Officer Course, yes?"

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

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

Selrik Lorcas

"Please forgive me for crafting such a misleading narrative regarding your view of today's gathering, then." Lodd quickly amended his previous remark to avoid creating a false impression on the Imperial Confederation, especially as Moff Selrik Lorcas recognized him in the room.

He displayed as much grace as a watering can left in the Tatooine sun, unaware of who the Trade Monarch was, despite the Trade Federation having supplied the New Imperial Order and the Dark Empire, and subsequently imposing an embargo on the Empire of the Lost due to its anti-trade practices.

Such personal reflections needed to be put on hold for the moment as the Moff asked an important to the Neimoidian. What was the Trade Federation doing at the Imperial Gala, surrounded by Mand'alors, Imperials, and the occasional Sith Lord?

There seemed to be little advantage in attending in person when matters could be more effectively managed in the backrooms of cantinas or the conference rooms of starships. Perhaps trade was the answer, although that felt somewhat vague and not enticing enough to grab the Moff's interest.

"As you are aware, the galaxy is currently enduring significant turmoil due to the Planeshift event, which some have dubbed the Galactic Sundering, particularly following certain incidents near the borders of the Sith Empire. The Imperial Confederation has emerged as a new stable government, and such stability is vital for investors like the Trade Federation, who would eagerly invest credits to develop your planets with industry and guarantee worker compliance far more effectively than the boot of a stormtrooper ever could." Lodd elaborated with a grand gesture.

Looking to emphasize his point, that the Trade Federation could provide the Confederation with a wide array of resources, including blasters, starships, and vehicles, while also managing their factories to prevent any worker uprisings.