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To new beginnings (LotF, TGE)

Sargon Vynea

Spencer's guard unicorn
Writer
The question of further war with the Republic was still up in the air, but O'reen's defense was past them as the Galactic Empire joined the Fringe Confederacy's relations were strengthened in the fires of war. With these new ties the Fringe Confederacy was stronger then ever before, and would continue to grow in all manners, and with the possibility of peace on the horizon, it was time for the two groups to get to know each other without the interference of a battalion or two of Republic troops.

The world of Annaj, capital of the Fringe Confederacy and one of the rotating seats of the Fringe High Council, at this moment was serving as the location for a rather luxurious ball. All of the Empire's people had been welcomed to join as several announcements were to be made as to their positions in the Fringe, and it's military. Formal black military uniform of the Legate of the 121st Legion was Sargon's choice of garb as he nodded to @[member="Ashin Varanin"] as the guests were welcomed into the enormous ballroom.

Moving besides @Jared Omvar the Zabrak slapped the man on the back, "Do you remember when we started here, Jared? A joke on the edge of the galaxy, now look at us, defying the Republic war machine."
 

teaking

Thus Saith the Lord
Writer
Lucien had arrived on the capital a few hours before. He arrived at the ballroom, beneath his best suit he still wore the scars of war His entire chest was bandaged and his left shoulder was in a cast. He lent heavily on the cane he had requisitioned, the broken hip he was suffering aged him. He walked over to the server snatching up a glass and moving over to Sargon and Jared "Good evening my friends" He said with a smile. The sun was rising on the fringe and the galaxy was theirs for the taking.
 

Stardust Solus Skirae

The Emerald Dragon/The Judge
Writer
stardust arrived at the capital and was making herway to the ball room wearing a rose red dress, it felt cormfortable to being wearing a dress for once, soon entering the ballroom stardust looked around and smiled going over to a server grabbing a drink
 
Writer
@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]
Darth Proeliator arrived, clad in black Sith robes and with his lightsaber at his side. He was willing to accept this Galactic Empire, for they had no part in the death of his parents, almost a millennia ago. And they would prove valuable allies against the Republic, which was now entering into a state of tense Cold War with the Fringe. Darth Proeliator opposed this, but he was new to this faction, and he would obey his leaders. Still, he would have preferred attacking the Republic and the Jedi, and destroying them at the home. This had been a dream of his before, and it was still a dream of his. He hated the Republic, hated what they stood for, and hated above all their hypocrisy. And so, any ally of the Fringe against them was welcome.

He stood nearby his rival and his ally, Alen Na'Varro. Leader of the Eclipse, and a prestigious warrior. Proeliator bore him a grudging respect, and despite their many clashes would stand with him against any real foe. He had yet to meet any of the Empire, and was ready to do so. He wanted to gauge the strength of their newest members, to see how valuable to the Fringe they would really be.
 

Kitt Solo

Alen Na'Varro's Ex
Character
Burnt-chestnut strands of hair were pulled back into a simple up-do, stubborn wisps breaking free as if in a reflexion of the young, high council member's spirit. Light armor was replaced with something the Southern Corellian was highly uncomfortable in: a dress. That's not to say there weren't plenty of concealed weapons in said dress.

Showing up anywhere unarmed would just be ridiculous.

Fingers slipped into the folds of her dress as she covertly brought out a small bottle of Southern Corellian bourbon; just enough to spike the punch. Innocently lounging around by the punch bowl and determined to complete her clandestine mission, she slipped her hand behind her back and poured the contents into the sweet liquid.

She really needed a drink for baking the dragon-sized pie for her war partner and surviving the Pub's combat junkie and the tripped-out drug chick that craved dragon scales instead of nerf burgers.
 

Aran Finn

Redeemed
Writer
"Excuse me for a second, my friend." Alen addressed @[member="Darth Proeliator"] as an equal, though saying they were friends would be stretching the truth. Na'Varro held a lot of respect for the man, Sith as he may be. As Daniel Aldan, he had almost killed the bearded Dark Jedi once. And truth be told, Na'Varro was itching to return the favour some day. However, Proeliator was a useful ally and a truly inventive warrior, and Na'Varro enjoyed having him by his side. As Arbiter of the Eclipse, he took great care to heed the Sith Knight's counsel. He too was unhappy about the state of peace, and felt the Republic had got off too lightly. It was now his to teach them a lesson and exact retribution for their losses.

Na'Varro was in black military dress as Broadband of Army Tactical Command, and as such he made sure that @[member="Sargon Vynea"] and @[member="Ashin Varanin"] received salutes at some point in the evening. However, the Arbiter had noticed @[member="Kitt Solo"] by the punch bowl ... he had a fair inkling of what she was up to, heck, she had even told him of her secret plans. That was just like Solo ... she was somewhat of a mischief maker. But Na'Varro could get up to mischief too. Approaching from behind the Force-using merc, Alen took a moment to "watch her six" before stopping beside her at the table. He cleared his throat.

"I brought reinforcements." His right hand opened his blazer, showing the Southern Corellian secreted on the inside of his jacket. That was followed by a lopsided grin and a mischievous wink. Na'Varro hated political crap like this, so he'd sure as frell make sure he had some fun.
 

Stardust Solus Skirae

The Emerald Dragon/The Judge
Writer
stardust went over to the punch and poured a drink unrealizing that ut had some alchahoal which she wpuldnt mind at all, besides a party is a party gotta have some fun, walking ove to @[member="Lucien Cordel"] smiling as she took a drink"looks like you had fun"stardust said with a giggle
 

Rusken Shaxx

High-Knight
Character
Zius arrived in all his darkly clad self. Casually strolling into the ballroom with unkempt features such as his battle-worn trench coat and wild hair that almost gave the impression that he was struck by lightning. His lightsaber bounced lightly inside his coat, the light illuminating the metallic surface like a hidden creature occasionally peering out from the shadows to embrace what's in the light of the outside world. He may give an unfitting vibe to the ballroom's grandeur, but he didn't necessarily give a damn.
The broad-shouldered Dark Jedi approached @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] with a cold grin over his pale and unnatural-fleshed face. A pleasant surprise to find a faithful ally of the Fringe.

"Fancy seeing you here, Na'Varro. Not really here for the political squawking of parties, even less any of the announcements; come to think of it, I have absolutely no recollection of why I came other than to keep an eye on the people. Can't have any rude interruptions now can we?"

His cybernetic eye glared a bit with a distorted red static as he gave a graceful nod, grinning his untrustworthy smirk. He turned away, holding both hands in front of his mid-section in a crossed fashion as he observed the people of the ballroom.

@[member="Darth Proeliator"] @[member="Ashin Varanin"] @[member="Kitt Solo"] @[member="Sargon Vynea"]
 

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
Writer
Jak quietly entered by a side door, not really looking to draw attention to himself.

What with his being a plant in wake of Bob Bobinson's untimely death, and his mild insubordination at O'reen, the imaginary target on the back of his head had grown, he surmised, ever a little paranoid.

But he shunted those feelings to the back of his mind, putting on a normal skin colouring in lieu of his incriminating green skin. Slipping on an easy grin, he mingled with the growing crowd, feeling a nagging guilt that he should tell someone in charge what he had done... he really hoped he didn't have to.
 

Akio Kahoshi

Peace through Order
Writer
This was the Galactic Emperor's first time on Annaj, though he had met with Fringe representatives on numerous occasions (not all of them pleasant). The decision to bring the Galactic Empire into the Confederacy had been a tough one, but O'reen was proof enough that he had made the right decision to protect his people. And it was not like this was the first time his Empire had joined in such an alliance, it had done so once under the great Pellaeon's leadership and again during the time of the true Fel dynasty.

For the ball he was dressed in his formal white robes, holding his feathered fan-the symbol of the Atrisian Emperor. The five Imperial Guards that were an ever present part of his daily life were present, but were hanging back. Akio was here as the leader of a Fringe member state after all, he could not appear afraid and a circle of guards would give just that impression real or not.

As he mingled, he sipped at a cup of Atrisian tea, his contribution to the ball. Everything about the ball was subtlety different from what was typical on Atrisia, but enough of the Imperial military's standards were similar to not seem completely alien.
 

Kitt Solo

Alen Na'Varro's Ex
Character
@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

“Holy kriff, Na’Varro,” terse-whisper left her lips as he appeared by her side as she bit back a smile. Chestnut brows lofted as she gave him a once over, gaze lingering on the inside of his jacket. “For a second I thought you were Sargon bustin’ my chops.” She paused briefly. “You clean up nice.”

Keeping her poker face, she whispered quickly to Alen, “Incoming, might wanna hide the goods.” She tilted her chin in greeting to @[member="Zius Aurus"]. The kid had some of the palest skin she had ever seen – not to mention his tenacity on the battlefield.

Voice returned to an acceptable volume.

“Good to see you in an environment sans head chopping and lightsaber stabbing. And uh, yeah, wouldn’t want any of those rude interruptions. Good thing we have your watchful, uh, eyes.” She cast Alen a sideways glance before turning around and filling up a nice big glass of punch, extending it toward Zius.

“Punch?”
 

Matreya

Well-Known Member
Writer
For once, in quite some time, Zaiden showed himself from the gate. Clad in a black dress suit, with a matching jet black tie, black crocs and sunglasses, he appeared the ever elegant leader of an entire planet. Sitting silently in the rear of the room, he contemplated his actions in the passing invasion.

He had battled the Grand Master, showing some skill but not enough to warrant any form of honor. There were many more deserving...
 

Matreya

Well-Known Member
Writer
Having won the battle he entered, against a powerful Jedi Master, Asher arrived to the group proudly. It wasn't as if he had slain the warrior, but he had battled a Master till the point her only course of action was to flee. This was a stepping stone among others, and one he would never forget.

With the face of a dark skinned male, bald and mid thirties, dressed in a casual pair of jeans with a nice blue button up shirt, none would truly know whom he was - save the best of force users among them.
 

Cyrus Tregessar

Grand Admiral, First Order Central Command
Writer
It seemed like yesterday that Cyrus had been staring down at a Fringe 'wall of battle' from the bridge of the Iron Duke, directing the Imperial Fleet into action over Atrisia. But war makes for strange bedfellows indeed. To withstand the threats arrayed against them the Galactic Empire had been driven into the hands of former enemies. An ignoble end for them? Or perhaps a new beginning. Time alone would give the final answer to that question.

So here they were on Annaj, capital of the Fringe Confederacy. To make the former Emperor, Akio Kahoshi, bend his knees and scrape on the floor like a dog. Or possibly not, though that seemed the most likely situation to Cyrus' mind. But he was no student of politics and in some ways was still confused about the whole situation in general. In Cyrus' mind, the a defeated enemy was one who had seen his armies scattered, his holdings razed, his followers killed, and at last cornered like a beast and begging for his life, had an end put to his miserable existence. Clearly that wasn't the case here, which meant obviously that they weren't defeated or weren't an enemy. Had Akio then masterminded this, was it a plot within a plot?

Bah, point him at a battle and tell him who need to die. That was the way to resolve things, not another damned party. Cyrus gave a last pinch-and-tug check of his silver-and-black dress uniform, did a last brush on his Grand Admirals' Epaulettes, and entered the hall with a bitter scowl on his face.

Hopefully the Fringers made their drinks strong.
 

Moira Skaldi

Paperclip Maximiser
Character
Organics loved their galas, their get-togethers and their celebrations. Always they found an occasion for one. The lavish outfits, the finest champagne that kept flowing, the fake smiles and pleasantries. Where some saw joviality and amicability, Moira saw threats, opportunities. The game of thrones was just another battlefield, another arena to be conquered. The better to get someone to let their guard down by playing the trusted friend, only to then stab them in the back with a dagger. Thus she was here as well, dressed in a professional looking black women's business suit, blonde hair tied back into a bun. Doubtless there was at least one hold-out blaster concealed inside the outfit, but then Moira could be quite lethal even without weapons, for she was designed that way.

Lifeless blue eyes travelled across the hall as she scanned the crowd. Kahoshi had been forced to bow his head and submit to the Fringe, after not so long ago having dramatically declared himself Galactic Emperor. Now part of a nation that more than any others preached freedom from constraints, an El Dorado for force-users of any force religion and code - or lack of code. Considering the Atrisian distrust of the magi, the irony of the situation was not lost on Moira. Doubtless the Imperials hoped to rise again one day.

Moira was, you might have guessed it, impassive. Her allegiance was and had always been solely to herself. Herself and Maelion to be precise but then the latter was like her. Eyes fell next on Sargon Vynea, one of the Confederacy's governors, high councillor. They had a, how shall we put it, history, back on Endor during the Rebel raid. Of course, not so long ago Moira had visited that laboratory again...this time not for terrorism and violence, as appetisiing as that was, but to forge a beneficial business relationship with the head alchemist Rave Merrill. Organics were by definition inferior, but they could be useful. There was a time for arrogant dismissal of them and one for cooperation.

This unnatural peace in the Galaxy would not last long. Moira could not wait to see worlds burn.
 

Greyhide

Yun-Harla in Translation
Character
It had been quite some time since he had attended such a formal event as this.

That was not to say he avoided them, but the fact of the matter was that the predator had not had cause to attend any such event since before the brunt of conflict that had seen him in this time and place. Not since the gala betwixt the Sith Empire and Sovereign Galactic Empire of old, whereby the end he had considered for the first time possibility of making a life-mate of Dangereuse Von Balis. By all that made sense in the many realms of this galaxy, she was long dead, as was his mistress, and many of his allies. However, despite that, there were those from those very same years that had by some equally bizarre circumstance or another found their way here as well. And he? He was rebuilding a life here, amongst them, allies new and old.

In a tailored, well-fitted, high-collared tuxedo, black with deep red, tasteful and intricate embroidery and buttoned right up to mid-neck, Lucianus Adair arrived alone to the sizeable ballroom. On instinct, he scanned this way and that with discerning, calculating blue eyes, seeing faces that were now familiar, faces new and thus marked in his mind with a note to caution, and the precise location of the nearest server possessing red wine, making it his first order of business to acquire for himself a glass. Upon this retrieval, he went about watching the room again, noting the presence of both @[member="Darth Proeliator"], and @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] in particular. These were the two men with whom he worked the closest, and were of the same mind as he on the matter of the Treaty of Telos, and it was this - he did not like it. The Galactic Republic was diseased, and it would only be a matter of time before this treaty, too, was broken.

He made his way over to his ally and fellow Sith, Proeliator, saying nothing, but watching plenty as the tattooed man was doing. Alliances in their lifetime had not constituted merging like this. O'reen had been one thing, a world of their realm. What more would the subjects of the former emperor do to forward their collective cause, if at all? This remained to be seen. Outside of this, to less... stern thoughts, he wondered who else would show their face, here. His wonderings on that matter were... particular, and he sipped slowly at the wine as he wondered them.
 

Rusken Shaxx

High-Knight
Character
Zius eyed the newcomers closely before being offered punch by Kitt, alcoholic hopefully.

"Anything in this? Something of fair strength?" He questioned her with a straight, blank expression. If the answer were to be no, he'd reject the drink quite abruptly and without so much as a palm from his hand as a means of rejection. If it rang true, he'd calmly grab for the drink. Slamming it down in one go without even attempting to savor the taste.

Looking on, he'd spot quite a few faces from the O'reen invasion. All battle-hardy and deserving of a celebration for their enduring efforts to swat away at the fly that was the Republic, not to mention the Jedi themselves.

@[member="Kitt Solo"] @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] @[member="Lucianus Adair"] @[member="Darth Proeliator"]
 

Aran Finn

Redeemed
Writer
@[member="Kitt Solo"]

“You clean up nice.” Alen smiled wryly in reply, giving Solo a once over.

"That makes one of us." He chuckled. "Just kidding, Kitt. You look great, even without combat boots." That she did. She didn't exactly look comfortable wearing a dress, but some women suited dresses better than others ... Kitt suited them well enough. The one she was wearing now definitely showed her off to the rest of the room, which Na'Varro noted approvingly. The ability to choose a dress to complement oneself was an underappreciated part of womanhood. Just like choosing a well-fitting suit was for a man. And Na'Varro's pitch black uniform fit damn well, especially at the shoulders. At Kitt's warning, Alen closed his jacket at @[member="Zius Aurus"]' approach, looking up and smiling genially at the younger man.

"Aurus, good to see you. Keep an eye out for trouble, will you? I plan to get very drunk ... might make this thing bearable." Taking the small bottle out of his blazer pocket, he drained half and handed the rest to Solo ... for her to use at her discretion. The punch bowl beckoned. He moved away from Kitt and clapped Zius on the shoulder as he moved past, appreciative that the Apprentice had made the time to come. He was a tenacious warrior. "Alright, time for me to go make nice for the brass. Zius, keep an eye out. Solo, I'll be back for a dance later."

A lopsided smile aimed at the other Force User, Alen turned and headed back to @[member="Darth Proeliator"], who had picked up @[member="Lucianus Adair"] somewhere in the middle of Alen's contact with Kitt and Zius. Nodding to Adair, he stepped forward and shook the slightly larger man's hand firmly. He was a Sith, but they had the same goals for now. Strange bedfellows indeed.

"Adair, good of you to join us. Let's go make some introductions." Na'Varro approached a Zabrak Legate in similar uniform who stood near Varanin and another important Fringer who he had not yet made the acquaintance of. He hated political events like this, but he would be damned if he didn't make a good impression.

"@[member="Sargon Vynea"]?" He held out his hand to shake, firmly once again. "Alen Na'Varro. These two gentlemen are Darth Proeliator and Lucianus Adair, my colleagues and allies. Pleased to meet you at last."
 

Break

System Reboot
Writer
Break stood to the back making light conversation with the people around him, He was a bit more relaxed today and opted for his normal clothing over his armor, formal wear he had chosen specifically for the occasion. Break scanned the room in hopes of finding someone he knew already. at first he saw @[member="stardust"] looking particularly beautiful in her formal dress and considered walking to her to make small talk.

The second person he saw was @[member="Alen Na'Varro"] one of the few people he had met with. However he looked busy at the moment perhaps later he would approach the man. Perhaps meet him and actually get his name and meet with him on good terms
@[member="Akio Kahoshi"] was the person however Break really wanted to meet. That would probably not happen however as Breaks social skills were not...perfect, and were likely to grant negative attention. Break finished his glass of whatever the organics were drinking and headed into the crowd to speak to one of the people of intrest.
 
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