Populate What’s a God to a Nonbeliever (BSS Populate of Empty Hex)

[Mauve du Vain]

What's a God
To a Nonbeliever

Nar Shaddaa/Nal Hutta

Objective 1: Desecration​

OOC: Kazbog the Mystic has issued several public threats to the Black Sun Syndicate from his temple on Varl. His defiance of the Underlord will no longer tolerated. He and most of his guards are away on Nar Kreeta overseeing mining operations. Enter his temple on Nal Hutta and desecrate it, without bloodshed or burning. Mauve du Vain offers 50,000 underworld credits to the most creative act of desecration.

The Blessed Order of the Sacred Pulsar's temple on Nal Hutta sat some distance away from the nearest city, in a more mountainous region of the planet, with a winding path leading up from a large landing pad. The temple best resembled a series of huge domed telescopes all pointing in the same direction, because that was precisely what it was - all the better to glimpse the Godsheart Pulsar with, you see.

This time of day, the temple is filled with Hutt entourages paying homage to the pulsar by coming to squint at it through one of the great telescopes.

Jilruan religious fanatics guarded the temple jealously. Fortunately, most of them were elsewhere - accompanying the high oracle Kazbog the Mystic on a tour of the mines he owned on distant Nar Kreeta.

Kazbog's remarks against the Underlord had gone unanswered for too long. It was time for that to change.

***

Mauve stood on the landing pad leading up to the temple, eyeing the gang of thugs and miscreants and ne'er do wells.

"I don't care how you do it, just get in there and start desecrating."

"Dese-whatum?" asked a three-eyed Gran, confused.

"Break stuff. Not people."

An Aqualish grunted with disappointment. "What'll you be doing?"

"Oh I have a flight to catch, darling, and an economic crisis to begin. Anymore questions?"

Objective Two: Fashion​

OOC: Humiliating Kazbog's temple is not enough. He has apparently accumulated quite the investment in a series of ysalamiri breeding grounds on Myrkyr. A shame if ysalamiri became worth more dead than alive. Hunted to extinction in the name of fashion. Join the Syndicate for a fashion show where all the models sport rare and exotic animal attire: Ysalamiri boots! Ysalamiri belts! Ysalamiri bags! My my.

Mauve returned to Nar Shaddaa, a short flight from the planet's surface below, just in time to start mingling with the crowd in the venue. A massive runway split the room and soon the models would start to show off the latest haute couture. But for now, there were drinks to be had and appetizers to devour.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

OBJECTIVE TWO: FASHION

There was nothing quite so beautiful, in Jerec's estimation today, as an industrial protein cycler. The efficient salvage-ness of it, the transformation of bulk complications — ysalamiri, primarily sans skin — into spin-sealed pasteurized protein paste and calcium gravel, both with reasonable resale value. The actual value stemmed from the rapidly rising scarcity of ysalamiri and the political and cultural effects thereof. There were some things that should just plain be much rarer than they were these days.

All of this was elsewhere except the finest examples of skin (and certain elements of the hors d'oeuvres). For his own part, Jerec wore a dashing sash of miriskin. Ysalamiri leather had no impact on Jedi abilities but it just felt comforting.

He looked around for Hakar Scaleback who, he was fairly sure, had come up with the manufactured scarcity angle in the first place - not in the ysalamiri context, but the principle was sound. Having made pocket change and then some shorting ysalamir futures last night, Jerec owed the Trando a drink.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective Two: Fashion

​

Tag(s): Naamino Zuukamano | Open!

Smuggler's Moon had a seductive pull, one that drew him back time and time again lately. Fortunately, there weren't any disapproving whispers in his conscience either. And beyond the neon haze and corruption, there was something rarely found.. raw honesty. Power here didn't seem to be cloaked in ceremony or dressed in virtue. Things were just bought, sold, and at times, even paraded openly.. which suited him perfectly fine.

Lysander arrived at the venue cloaked in his usual attire. A dark tunic of fine weave hugged his lithe frame while leggings were tucked into polished boots. Just as he stepped into the hall, as though perfectly timed, a server drifted by with a tray of glasses. With a graceful motion, he plucked one and swirled the amber liquid within, savoring the burn like a venom sliding down his throat.

The pulse of the music hit him first, a heartbeat that grew louder with each and every step. Core accents, along with a few dialects he didn't even recognize, and the occasional bark of laughter, filled the air. It was also thick with spice smoke and the enticing perfume of credits being spent too freely.

A place that almost felt like home.

Almost..

The Sith's focus slowly drifted to the far end of the runway, where models donned cloaks and boots crafted from the skins of rare creatures. Somewhere in the mix, he caught the glint of the ysalamiri leather, causing a faint smile to grace his lips.

Not since the Battle of Brosi had two brothers seen each other. Now Lysander found himself delving deeper into the underworld, chasing new pursuits and opportunities. After a few months of separation, their paths were finally set to cross again. Nar Shaddaa was certainly not a welcoming place for most reunions, but in some strange way, it seemed fitting.

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Location: Objective 2
Wearing: Dress
Tag: Mauve du Vain

Kaila Starfall could be described as a complicated woman with simple tastes.

She sat reclined with a champaign glass in hand, chatting up one of the models who'd be on the runway later.

Actually she offered the girl a job, turned out the twi'lek had a lovely voice and it just so happened the young Darth had an empty stage just waiting. Why bother with a cutthroat music industry when offered a head start? It was enough to exchange holo-codes and a drink before the show, and Kaila waved her off with a smile.

That was her real reason for being here after all; connections.

She kept those golden eyes peeled for anyone who looked worth knowing, be they potential hires or business opportunities. The rogue Sith had plans, big plans, and it was high time she secured her powerbase outside the Blackwall.

And then opportunity walked in the door, wearing a dress.

They'd only met once before, but Kaila would recognize those pink hues anywhere. Mauve. She'd done her research since last time, turned out she and Mercy had a vigo in their laps and Kaila was none the wiser.

She smirked, and stood.

Black silks swayed gently with each step, and heels clicked. She'd forgone the usual spikes, but the claws and broad shoulders remained. She hoped the zeltron still recognized her after all this time.

"Mauve du Vain~" she purred, emerging from the crowd.

"I was hoping to find you here."

"Anathemous, we met on Kwenn Station, got proper smashed with Mercy." she chuckled.

"Can I buy you a drink, Vigo?"

​

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective II // Get a new Belt, maybe some heels //
// Focus // // Mauve du Vain // Lysander von Ascania // Jerec Asyr // Darth Anathemous //
// Attire //

---

---

Nar Shadaa was a filthy and decrepit planet, filled to the brim with the scum of the galaxy. Its putrescence dove deep into the skin of those that walked its surface, dragging them down into the grime of the world. Yet, there was an allure to the planet that only the depraved could enjoy. Jorryn Fordyce had only recently been reborn into the galaxy, her new abilities still untested and raw. Perhaps it was for that reason she made her way to the smuggler's moon, where a missing individual or ten would hardly be of note.

The Echani had spent only a short time here, her experiments pushing forth knowledge of flesh and its delicateness. Her room was as luxurious as one could get on the planet, save for the room where her practice would take place, and hidden as well as she thought it might be. The anonymity clearly wasn't enough, and those more experienced in the underground had made their knowledge known.

A black invitation with the name of the Silver-haired Sith lay on the entrance room of her apartment, an invitation to a show. It had been an amusing thought, to go out an experience the night life of such a place. So the Echani decided to accept, strutting into the private event with confidence.

There was little she could do to hide her Sith features, and so the woman would wear them proudly. Gold trinkets fell delicately away from her dark horns, the skin her dress didn't cover exposed to display the runic tattoos that now decorate it. She work a black dress with gold accessories decorating it and a pair of black heels.

For now, Lithe fingers embraced a glass of red wine as a male zabrak passed by with a tray, bringing it up to her dark lips as she observed the floor. While the fashion was the main point of the event, there would be no harm in making a few new friends.