Faction [TSC] WELCOME TO 1313 | OPEN

[Tatiana Sah]

"Thank you," Tatiana smiled in the wake of Varin's admission. "In the beginning, I could not so easily blend in." Her brow rose a hair. "I meant no deception. None... malicious," she admitted as obviously it was a deception. "But it is necessary. My people would need time to be... approachable in social gatherings." Yes, she had trouble envisioning them at banquets, ballrooms, and board rooms. Rather, doing such with other species. They would adapt, she trusted, but circumstances were wildly different from their home galaxy.

As Varin briefly contemplated, his companion reached forward to pour a little more of the stout drink into her own glass. If they were talking, she doubted her new friend wanted to be the only one drinking. There was a social custom when it came to these sorts of things she'd learned.

When he began to speak, Tatiana set the bottle down turned her rapt attention toward Varin.

"You may feel that way, but my people have no concept of chopping wood being a rewarding experience, or the satisfaction in surviving against all odds. Such a way of life is actually more intriguing than a symposium on hyperspace engine design." Tatiana reached out to lift her glass off the bartop. "But I do agree." Her blue eyes turned back to the man beside her. "Not because technology is inherently detrimental, but from observation. It seems to stem from an oversaturation of people at the same time there are ample resources available. Normally, my people's solution would be to reduce the count; but I've come to understand that is not your way. Over corrections tend to happen." A quick smile and Tatiana tossed another glass of liquor back.

A soft cough followed.

Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Tamsin Starfall | Iandre Athlea

 

[Nej Tane]

1313.​

Nej's footfalls were measured, each one a step further towards something he wished he wasn't doing. The weight of his guilt, the time spent carrying it started to lift off of him. Coruscant was the first place he looked, the place he saw the light in her eyes. The way her hair moved, the way her face lit up a room. She was taken from him, a life robbed. He was going to live a long time. He'd remember her face and the way she said his name for every moment of it.

His pistols hung under his shoulders underneath his jacket, bouncing against his frame with each step. Two blocks. The lights were dimmer here, a measure of control for his piece of Coruscant. Low lights meant that you could highlight who was coming, and your troops could lie in the dark, hidden to the threat.

But there was no hiding from Nej Tane.

He'd give him one chance to not let his men go to waste.

He pulled his helmet over his face, folding pieces of machinery, expertly designed, covering his face. Only a tuft of hair sticking out let people know it was him. His HUD highlighted targets, and the cooling systems present in the helmet gave him a good respite from the warm, damp air. In the street where he found himself, there were about six buildings leading to a larger one at the end of it. A rarity in Coruscant, a street that ended, your own personal abode. It was mostly free from the noise, far enough away from the speeder lanes that you could only distantly hear them. It was a quiet street, dimly lit, with a few red-blue neon signs illuminating illicite businesses and food places.

And he saw them, even in the dark. Smelled them, in some cases.

Those that lie in the dark. Watching, waiting.

He stopped, hands by his hips, ready to draw. They knew that. What they didn't know, however, was how fast he was, and how he knew where they were, crouching, lurking in the dark. His HUD highlighted them, and he saw them, clutching weapons beneath jackets, holding onto vibroblades and blunt weapons. One chance.

"JARROUL ZANDAL!"

​

Silence. Absolute, silence. The hired guns lying in the dark turned their heads to the door, waiting for a response. One came, a touch of the ear. An exchange of guttural alien words, too far away to make out. But the forty-five degree turn of his elbow in the dark showed him that he was about to draw. So Nej pulled first-

And within two seconds, put four shots into four people. His use of disruptors meant that the first shot was the last. He turned behind him, ducking a blaster bolt that went just over where his head was. In return, he turned the Gran that shot at him into two pieces at the waist. He turned back to the door. He had his answer, he had his method. So be it.

He came for revenge. He was going to get it.​

​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The music pulsed around them in thick, rhythmic waves, bass rolling up through the floor and into bone, but Iandre remained steady in the center of it all, as though the chaos were something she observed rather than absorbed. Neon light caught briefly along the edge of her coat before sliding away again, unable to cling to her for long.

She listened. Not just to the words, but to the currents beneath them.

Varin's tone had shifted, less guarded, more open, and there was something almost fragile in the way he spoke of home. Tatiana's curiosity was bright and genuine, even when filtered through unfamiliar cultural logic. Ghruna carried loneliness like armor that didn't quite fit yet. And Tamsin…

Tamsin carried absence.

When Varin dismissed himself as uninteresting, Iandre turned her head slightly toward him, studying him for a long moment before responding.

"There is nothing uninteresting about choosing hardship on purpose," she said calmly. "Ritual labor. Scarcity by design. Reverence for strength earned instead of inherited. That tells me more about a culture than any technology level ever could."

Her gaze lingered a fraction longer, not pressing, just acknowledging.

"You may not find it remarkable because you survived it. That does not make it ordinary."

Then her attention shifted as Tamsin spoke.

Escaped slave.

The smirk was deliberate, but the Force did not lie.

Iandre did not react with pity. She did not react with shock. She simply regarded her with the same measured attention she had given the others.

"Freedom is rarely clean," she said quietly. "It often feels more disorienting than captivity, especially if captivity came with structure."

Her eyes flicked briefly to the amulet Tamsin had grasped earlier, then back to her face.

"And no. I do not work on Coruscant."

There was no elaboration.

"I am visiting."

The answer was simple, but it held layers she chose not to unfold here.

When Tamsin offered her a "new job," Iandre's lips curved slightly. Not amusement at her, but at the earnest awkwardness of the attempt.

"You do not know enough about me to recruit me," she replied evenly. "But I appreciate the instinct."

She tilted her head slightly, studying the younger woman more directly now. "Before you offer someone freedom, you might first ask whether they feel constrained." It was not a reprimand. It was guidance wrapped gently.

Then she answered the last question, and this time there was no deflection. "I like clarity," she said. "I like building things that endure. I like knowing the people beside me understand the cost of standing where they stand."

Her gaze drifted briefly across the bar, across the dancers, the guards, the quiet transactions happening in shadow.

"And occasionally," she added, returning her attention to the small circle at the bar, "I like observing what people choose to reveal about themselves when they believe no one is measuring them."

Her tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of awareness.

She was not drunk. She was not here by accident. And she had memorized every exit in the room.

Varin Mortifer Tamsin Starfall Ghruna Tatiana Sah

 

[Naniti]

"No ancient Sith temples yet," Naniti replied honestly. "But I have a few leads on some Imperial caches." While such caches wouldn't measure up to Korriban, they'd have some useful equipment or riches. Something worth trading. Sure, she could steal a ship amidst the chaos, but that wasn't a life-long manner in which to fund her galactic exploits. Something more meaningful would be needed. More long-term. A good initial nest egg would help get that rolling.

Then all Naniti would need was someone actually good with finance.

Lysander then replied concerning peoples' expectations or disposition toward their new Sith rulers. "Most of them just want to know how to take advantage of the situation," his Togruta partner agreed. Her blue eyes turned to him after she'd kept an eye on those nearest the pair. A slight roll of her head followed suit. It was interesting the way Lysander spoke of choices that led to present circumstances though. Not something most people cared for. Why. How. Long as people ended up on top they usually carried on doing what they'd always done with no regard for that stuff. Then again, Lysander was more of a scholarly type than maybe he'd care to admit aloud.

"Forgive you?" Naniti echoed as she feigned a moment in thought. "I could do that. Question is whether I'll forgive the cook." Which she would for his sake... unless it tasted absolutely vile. But it wouldn't. A Jedi would speak of abusing the Force; Naniti didn't care for that, it was an ability she'd been born with and she'd use it to avoid eating something vile if she felt like it. Not that she knew how it would actually taste, just the reaction to it.

Naniti silently gestured for two beef bowls while she listened to Lysander talk about instruction. It was about what she expected too. Man had a great deal of pride in his technique and wasn't about to let other people besmirch his name by half-assing it. And, of course, he said any failure on their part reflected on him personally regardless, which was a whole other level of responsibility Naniti didn't expect from anyone approaching Lord-level. it was almost like if more people were like that then the Sith really would dominate the galaxy.

Well, exceptions to the rule were few and far between. But, perhaps, if the exception were in the right place at the right time...

Suddenly credits found their way into her palm and the Togruta looked up at Lysander. "I thought the final step would be us sharing Kryat Dragon cooked over an open flame in the desert." Final sounded so... final. Naniti wasn't sure what to make of it. "Agreements can be extended, you know." Or something. Where did it go from there anyway? Well, maybe not food related. They'd already kind of toyed with other lines. Naniti could think of one or two more food-related they could cross. Sharing food. Cooking food. Maybe she'd save those ideas for when they were in private.

"If you need any help managing Acolytes, I promise not to kill any of them. Or knowingly lead them to their deaths or dismemberment." Maybe an Apprentice wasn't teacher-level material yet, but she'd offer anyway.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Reina Daival //: Anet Raine //: Adelle Bastiel //:

As people shuffled into the booth, Quinn peered at Reina. The earlier frustrations were only amplified by the new piece of information that the Ronin decided the Princess needed to hear.

It made zero sense to Quinn.

She watched Reina and tried to focus on the words spoken after the revelation. But Quinn's mind focused hard on the fact that Reina had proudly slept with someone else, in hopes that it would make her better for Quinn… Again, the thought didn't fully calculate in her mind. If Reina wanted practice, why not practice with Quinn?

Her brow furrowed slightly as her eyes drifted past Reina and towards the dance floor. She remained silent as the conversation continued, then she looked to Anet, trying to see what was amicable about her. She found nothing extraordinary, but that's probably why Reina sought someone like her out.

Was she intimidated by Quinn?

Quinn let her face soften for a moment, despite none of it making sense. Quinn wasn't going to make a scene here. She and Reina could discuss matters later.

Still, she wouldn't let Reina have the last word. Leaning close, feigning the motion for a kiss on the cheek. Her lips would brush gently on Reina's ear as she whispered.

"If you want to keep me happy, please don't give yourself away to someone who doesn't deserve you…"

Quinn leaned back, giving the Ronin a gentle kiss on the cheek as she looked at Anet and her companion. She could feel it, even if not through the Force. Anet's eyes said enough as she glanced towards the stray she had picked up. Quinn mused, wondering how things would play out if she decided to give this Senth any attention.

The only thing that stopped her was the hold Reina had on her hips, keeping her gently in place on her lap. She couldn't do that to Reina; the girl was special to the Princess, and she didn't want to hurt her.

Instead, Reina would fall victim to Quinn's teasing as she intentionally adjusted herself on the woman's lap, rolling her hips into her till she found a comfortable position. Once more, Anet glanced between Anet and Senth.

"No problem with me," another tight smile as she looked at Senth.

"Tell us about yourself, Senth."

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Quinn Varanin Adelle Bastiel Anet Raine
Location: Coruscant Level 1313 Club Cadaver
The Fit

Reina tensed ever so slightly at Quinn's whispering. Not so much out of fear or the like. More...she knew she had said something wrong. But couldn't quite figure out. She had thought she was saying the right things, but the more she dwelled on it, the more the Siren felt as if she was putting her foot in her mouth. For someone who had a beautiful voice, she was awful when it came to using her words, as she lowered her voice, and her gaze, whispering.

"I'm...sorry."

Yet with that, her attention went back to Anet, and her "question" that clearly wasn't an actual question. Whilst Reina wasn't one to always mind rhetorical questions, there was something about the way Anet had asked it that had rubbed her the wrong way

"...I don't think my answer would matter either way."

The warmth in Reina's voice that had been there for both Quinn and even originally Anet had faded from her tone. Reina hated nothing more than someone asking a question like that where the answer ultimately didn't matter. It reminded her too much of Serina. Those who pretend to care about what you think and feel when in reality it means nothing.

It was different to just regular teasing in her eyes. Though perhaps Reina was just being far too on edge. Far too worried about Quinn being upset with her, but the whisper that the Echani had given...She clearly didn't think Anet deserved Reina's company that much. Perhaps that was the truth. But at the same time, Reina couldn't quite tell Quinn in this moment that she was using the Half-Pantoran...Perhaps that could come later, when the pair were somewhere far more private.

Either way, she was someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve, as she just held onto Quinn ever so slightly tighter. There was only one person in this club that she truly trusted. Perhaps more than herself. Yet that was neither here nor there as she turned her head over towards Senth, giving her a half hearted smile.

"Though my answer is I don't mind either. Feel free to sit."​

 

[Uros Wren]

WELCOME TO 1313
The Gilded Hearth - Chapter 1

OUTFIT: semi-formal inside, brown leather jacket outside
OBJECTIVE: look for information, business opportunities, and good times
TAG: Adelle Bastiel | Anet Raine | Ghruna | Iandre Athlea | Nunterc Trundiav | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival | Tamsin Starfall | Tatiana Sah | Varin Mortifer | Open

GATTI​

CORUSCANT

The hiss of the heavy blast door sealed the private room behind him, cutting off the spice-laden air of the meeting room. Uros Wren stepped back into the strobe-lit glimmer of Club Cadaver, the transition from high-stakes negotiation to the rhythmic thrum of Level 1313's nightlife barely eliciting a blink.

He adjusted the collar of his signature brown leather jacket, the worn hide a sharp contrast to the crisp, semi-formal tunic beneath it. The meeting with the Coruscant Hutts had been long but predictable: greed wrapped in thin layers of courtesy. But it was the air outside those rooms that concerned him.

Uros navigated the VIP mezzanine, his boots barely audible against the floor. He reached the primary bar, where the neon glow reflected off the amber liquid in the rows of glassware. He caught the bartender's eye; a weary-looking droid-hybrid who had seen too many accidents in 1313.

"A successful venture deserves a celebration," Uros said, his voice cutting through the bass with the calm authority of a man used to being heard. He leaned against the counter, sliding a high-denomination credit chip across the surface. "A round of Coruscant Coolers for everyone at the rail. My tab. The Gilded Hearth sends its regards."

As the bartender began the frantic work of pouring, Uros turned his back to the bar, hooking a thumb in his belt, and let his gaze sweep across the room.

His combat zen took over, mapping the room with precision. He noted the tension in the shoulders of the mercenaries near the exits, the way the air seemed to chill around certain corners of the club. The Sith presence in the Core is a lingering scent that cannot be shrugged off. He looked for the telltale signs: the unnatural stillness of a figure in the corner, the way the crowd subconsciously gave certain individuals a wider berth.

The Core was volatile. The transition of power was leaving gaps in the shadows, gaps that his people needed to either fill or avoid. Uros watched a group of figures in dark robes near the lower levels, his mind already cataloging their movements against the tactical data he'd gathered on Nar Shaddaa.

He took a slow breath, the scent of ozone and recycled air filling his lungs. The Hearth is far away, he thought, but the fire is starting to spread. He remained a pillar of stillness amidst the revelry, a warden watching the storm clouds gather over the center of the galaxy. He had his credits on the table and his hand near his hip; just the way a Wren liked it.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

The mention of Imperial caches captured his focus. Not out of greed, even as a Sith Knight, for that word felt too crude to describe his feelings. He envisioned these troves as more than some forgotten piles of gear. It was possible that within them lay encrypted comms, vital data cores, and other equipment that could serve the Covenant’s cause. It might seem odd to many that he felt any loyalty toward a band of marauders that were now infamous across the galaxy, but his bond ran deeper. He had bled beside them, trained some of their ranks, and witnessed their evolution from the Outer Rim. If Naniti’s leads held true.. it was something he could not ignore.

Of course, anything she gave was often a breath of fresh air amid the sameness. Many mirrored his opinions, but her words were always molded by a more unique perspective.

After placing their order without a word, there was a nuance, delicate enough, that might've escaped him had he not been fully present. It was different from the familiar cadence he knew, having shared enough moments with the Togruta. It was just.. different. Something in her delivery coaxed his emerald focus downward as if summoned.

Clearly not the first time a gesture had gone astray, or his tongue choosing poorly. He wasn’t always good with phrasing, not the way she was. Not when she was involved, at least.

The bowls glided across the counter, steam curling upward. Lysander took his and stepped closer, pivoting around to slip past and free the line behind them.

“Naniti..” The next breath softened the line of his jaw. "That wasn't what I meant to put between us.”

For the longest while, naivety whispered that the perfect moment would come knocking, but standing there, that myth fell away. Those few seconds gave the truth time to take its shape. “I don’t need any agreement from you. All I want? For you to stick around.”

Still, he'd take a Krayt Dragon hunt any day; their best moments always lived outside Desevro before. Coruscant could be joining that list soon.

Somewhere behind him, voices rose; a small rise in his cheeks surfaced. “No matter how much the Covenant pulls me this way and that, it’s only you I see.”

He glanced toward the crowd, then back. “I could use your eyes on the Acolytes. If you see a direction for yourself in the Covenant.. whatever it is, just tell me. I’ll make room for it. And if you want guidance.. I can offer it. We’re a team, remember?”

 

[Riffraff Ranat]

Gillem​

Raspy chuckling continued off and on at Gillem’s commentary. The ranat‘s eyes gleamed with mischief as the man visibly dusted himself off and cracked things back into place. She wasn’t quite sure how either of them ended up where they were but Riffraff was clearly faring better than the bounty hunter. At mention of the gun in her pocket, the ranat looked noticeably surprised and pulled the thing.

”Oh chit, that wasn’t some dream— fethin wild. Arris’ll be worse off than even you,” she snickered out between sharp teeth.

The ranat jumped down from where she was perched with a grunt and tucked the gun away again, reaching instead to fish out a spliff.

“Bah quit yer whining— I don’t owe ya none and I’m not in a competing mood either,” she handed the smokeable off to him after closing the distance.

Gazing around at their unfamiliar surroundings, the ranat started patting her other pockets, looking for her datapad. When it wasn’t forthcoming, Riff swore under her breath. They’d have to figure out their location the hard way.

”Any of this familiar t’ ya? I seem t’ have lost the time and ended up here,” she eyed him with some lingering mirth, “You look like you got here through a garbage chute.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin watched as Ghruna tipped her drink back once more before separating from the group, the tipsy slight uneven pep in her step suggesting she may be feeling like dancing as she headed to the dance floor. Varin only watched a bit longer to make sure she didn't fall over then his attention came back to Tatiana.

“I know the feeling. Blending in, especially into a culture that's so vastly different can be daunting. It can take time before settling in.”

He sipped his drink once more as she spoke, his gaze shifting back to her in a hint of curiosity.

“There is a certain sense of pride in the type of people who use their own hands for survival or even projects. One may buy a ship to live in and travel and they may be happy about that, but then you have the person who built their own ship to their specifications, they know every crack, every button and every wire within that ship. And it brings them much more comfort."

He took another small sip.

“Tell me. How do your people thrive? Is everything automated for them or is there more work involved than that?”

He looked at Iandre as she spoke and he gave a soft sigh.

“Its not that I don't see it as special. I hold some form of respect to those who just make it and not only survive but thrive on their own. The ones who know their land and use it to its full potential. There's beauty in that. To know someone took the time to just learn and put it all to use.”

He finished his drink, after setting it down his body had a very slight lean to it, like it was trying to accommodate for something that was not even a hint of an issue.

Tatiana Sah | Ghruna | Iandre Athlea | Tamsin Starfall​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre had been listening to Varin with quiet attentiveness, her posture relaxed against the bar's edge, and one elbow resting lightly as she cradled her glass. The noise of Club Cadaver washed around them in waves of music, laughter, and shouted orders, but she had long since learned how to let the chaos fade into a mere background texture.

Still, when Uros made his entrance and announced his sudden generosity, her attention shifted almost instinctively toward the source of the disturbance.

Her focus did not shift openly or obviously, but it was just enough to register the change in the room's atmosphere. Her eyes followed the movement of the crowd for a brief moment, noting how people reacted to him and how the physical space subtly adjusted around his presence as the room recalibrated itself without even realizing it had done so. A man who possessed the means to buy goodwill in a single gesture and command attention without once raising his voice was never going to be simply another patron.

The observation was an interesting one to make in such a place. She filed it away quietly in the back of her mind and returned her focus to Varin as though nothing had happened to interrupt their conversation.

When he spoke about the nature of craftsmanship and the value of self-made comfort, a faint, genuine smile touched her lips.

"That is a very good way of putting it," she said softly, her voice steady against the thrum of the club. "There is a profound kind of intimacy in knowing something that deeply, whether it is a starship, a home, or even a community; you are not just using it, you are in a constant relationship with it."

She turned her glass slowly in her hand, watching the amber liquid catch the flickering neon light of the bar.

"As for Tatiana's people," she continued thoughtfully, choosing her words with care, "from what she has shared with me, they rely heavily on systems and collective efficiency, favoring automation, optimization, and layered redundancies where everything is designed to minimize waste and unpredictability."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward Tatiana and then back to her companion.

"There is certainly work involved in that lifestyle," she added after a moment of reflection. "But the nature of it is different. It is more abstract and significantly more distant from the actual physical result."

When Varin spoke again about his respect for those who learned their land and used it fully, she looked at him more directly, her expression softening.

"You are not giving yourself enough credit for the perspective you hold," Iandre said gently. There was no teasing found in her tone, only a grounded sense of honesty. "You speak about these things the way someone does when they understand them on a fundamental level, not through an academic lens, but a deeply personal one."

She gestured lightly with her glass to emphasize her point.

"People who have never lived that life tend to either romanticize the struggle or dismiss it entirely, yet you do neither because you see the cost and the beauty existing together." Her eyes softened slightly as she reached the heart of her observation. "That tells me it mattered to you quite a bit."

She noticed the subtle, tell-tale lean in his posture and the slightly delayed balance correction that followed, hiding a small, knowing smile behind a measured sip of her drink.

"Also," she added calmly, her wit surfacing through her composed exterior, "you are rapidly approaching the point where the pull of gravity is about to become far more persuasive than your pride."

A brief, meaningful pause hung between them.

"If you would like, I can intercept that particular argument before it becomes a public and embarrassing display." It was said lightly, but with the quiet competence of someone who absolutely meant what she said.

Then, as the music swelled and the crowd shifted again, she cast one more brief, subtle glance toward where Uros stood, still and watchful amid the chaos, before returning her attention fully to her companions. Whatever storm he was watching, she could already feel the sharp edge of it approaching.

And in her experience, she did not trust coincidences.

Uros Wren Varin Mortifer Tatiana Sah Tamsin Starfall