[IMPERIALS ONLY] A Celebration of Victory: The Imperial Ball

[Rector_Ras]

It seemed Raslekx was a bit late. Many people were already socializing from what he could hear walking towards were it was being held. Reaching the security check he handed over his lightsabers without a fuss it was useless to try and bring them in there was most likely a sith master or maybe even lord watching over security he could even try to argue with one. Walking into the ball itself he saw many people. Some he recognized from classes both teachers and fellow students alike. Others he had only seen walking around the hallways of the academy on Korriban. Some he had never seen before in his life.

He saw Tak but he didn't have much of a feeling to look at the acolyte never mind speak with him so he continued to look. He saw a few more acolytes but he had never taken the time to get to know any of them. 'Friends was not something he really made time to make. He saw Xanthus the master he had probably the best relationship with but he couldn't just walk up to a master in a formal occasion if they talked it would be him coming to Raslekx. Deciding that there was no one for him to approach he would sit down and if someone wanted to speak with him he would talk but otherwise he might keep to himself until something interesting happens.

 

[Darth Tak]

"Indeed, White Sith can be a pain. I wish to rank up, slay the slayers of my kinsmen, and maybe even become Emperor."
Tak looked around. He saw Xanthus, who was his mentor and instructor unofficially along with Raslekx (I guess that's right). And just as he was thinking of him, he saw Raslekx sitting alone like a loner. Tak actually wanted to be Raslekx's friend, but the Human just couldn't not hold a grudge. Oura stuttered a bit as she thought. "I wish to free all captive Twi'leks and then become Empress. I guess we [Tak and Oura] are in competition."

In reality, she would prefer to just be a Darth then an Empress, she would like Tak as Emperor, but she did not say that because it may make it appear she dedicated herself to him. In a way, she did... After all, she would still be under her fathers control if he didn't free her.

 

[Mistress]

Zabić smiled, "To honor you and your home planet I would more than love to comply." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "However, considering the many impressionable Acolytes at this gathering, I wouldn't want to give the wrong impression as a Warrior. And also, my Master is present, and my Vow is not taken lightly, but is due to a deeply moving event. I would not wish to tarnish it today, nor especially in public or cause him to doubt my resolve. Therefore I am sorry, Jaron, I must decline."

Zabić looked about the room. There are few Masters and Lords present who they each had taught under. "Shall we make our introductions, rank highest on down, or to those nearest us first? All after my Master of course! And erm...you will be so kind to introduce me to your's as well?"

 

[Elijah Brockway]

Jaron smiled. It made sense that she would decline to sample even the non-alcoholic variant he had seen; others might not take time to think of the specifics of the bottle, after all, and would thin that she was tasting something entirely different. So he waved off Zabić's short apologetic statement - it was of little import - before looking about, and shrugging.

"It appears to me that Crusader Vindict is not present, as of yet," the Keshiri said, with a short chuckle. "Oh, but I'm very nearly a Crusader now myself, as it stands; it seems that his purpose was moreso to oversee the end of this first stretch of my training, and perhaps to help guide me in the beginning of the next." Jaron turned, after a moment; surveying those nearest to him - quite the odd assembly of acolytes. At the comment of "white Sith" from one of them, Jaron almost laughed again; it seemed that Purple Sith weren't common enough to complain about. Still, it also helped him to decide where he would look to for companionship first.

"Yes, please, if you wish, I could use a proper introduction to the Warmaster," he said quietly, nodding up in the direction of where Zabić's master was. "After that, I would think it best that we look for those who we know well, rather than engaging with those we don't - at least, at first. It's better for those who have previous knowledge of each other in events such as this to come together at first...it lessens the possibility of a fight starting."

 

[Rogue Girl]

Azhure smiled at all the comments on Sin'ryks question. "It would seem we all our very ambitious. That will make for a very strong Order." She said happily. Azhure looked indifferent at the comment about White Sith. She was starting to get bored. She wish she was training now. That always put her in a good mood. Her thoughts drifted to a flashback of her training as a child.

She remembered how tough it was but she felt so determined to show she was worthy of being a Sith even at the tender age of eight. They were good memories ones that led the stepping stones to which she now walks. Her thoughts swayed back to the party looking around and seeing laughter and people having conversations.

She wondered how many at this party would be betrayed in the future. Surely quite a few if not all. It was funny to see them mingle as if nothing has taken place. But of course this was a celebration of victory. Still Azhure couldn't help but sense that the victory party has come too soon. She always feels uneasy when Sith talk about the war being over. Azhure didn't think that way for there still maybe some Jedi or some type of rebellion that is still in resistance. She will never rest until she knew she had wiped out as many dissidents as possible.

 

[Apollyon]

The scent of power lingered in the air as Sith of various ranks gathered to celebrate the mark of their grandest victory which occurred over a decade ago. While The Crusader Audroti was without a doubt late he wouldn't be counted out, Niita wouldn't allow it. Audroti stepped off the landspeeder that brought him to the Palace where the Sith gathered. The horridly scarred Sith warrior ran his right hand over the chest of his Tuxedo smoothing out what few wrinkles that were found on the surface. The Crusader felt almost naked without his armor but Niita had forced him to go without it, along with leaving his lightsabers on their ship, for the first time he was utterly unarmed in the presence of possible rivals.

As the Crusader approached the Grand Hall a small squad of stormtroopers approached both he and Niita. "Apologies sir, we have to scan you for weaponry, Empress's orders." One of the troopers announced before tapping his inner thigh and under his arms to inspect him throughly. Audroti submitted albeit begrudgingly, ensuring the troopers knew his dissatisfaction with a deep guttural growl. "He's clean." A trooper called out before stepping back and allowing Audi to enter the ball.

As Audroti entered the ballroom, Niita at his side he turned to his beloved, harsh yellow eyes that had scanned the room filled to the brim with beings of power instantly softening. "Whom will we speak with this evening Niita?" The Sith Crusader asked the smaller dainty female that shared the same physical traits he did, the traits of a Pureblood.

 

[Galisdoren]

Of course the young acolyte had made sure to attend the ball. He walked into the grand room with a charming smile spread across his features, black hair combed back in a pleasant display, piercing blue eyes searching the crowd. The dark lord himself was there, the human observed. He was not dressed in his typical garments, but a simple black robe, somewhat appealing as it was wrapped around his muscled, well molded form. The young male had moved, to glide across the floor with such grace, toward a darkened corner as if to stalk the residents, and perhaps that was his intention, to learn about the other Sith, to study their personalities, perhaps even pick out defining traits of which he could always remember them by. Nearby, he spotted Nox, and, whether the other assassin had spotted him or not, Thamis offered a brief gesture, a simple nod of his head, in polite acknowledgement. Their spar had been quite an enjoyable one, with Nox proving, quiet easily, to be capable of matching his own prowess and abilities in combat. No doubt that the other acolyte was a favored and valued ally of his, perhaps one of the first, that Thamis truly respected. He also spotted Damion, another skilled acolyte and one he had dueled in the arena once. It had been quite the interesting fight, the human had to admit. Here was a group of folks that were equal to him, some even better than him, and that was somewhat heartwarming, to know that there was still so much to learn, so much he could do, and that so much power awaited him. All he had to do was reach for it.

Tonight would be one of pleasantries, he was sure. There was no harsh training to be had here, no fights to pick in order to prove himself, no enemy tracking his movements, seeking to deliver a killing blow, to end his life just as it was truly starting to blossom, much like a flower, albeit one of ghastly black, blood stained petals and a core of molten, enraged flames. Thamis smirked at the thought, amused. Still, though, despite the rare relaxation that the night offered him, beckoning him to enjoy himself with the enticing scent of fresh food and the alluring, soothing music, to let go of all his problems and stresses, Thamis still persisted on perfecting his cloaking abilities, smothering his ties to the force in a clearly ambitious display, for he wished to master the art, and was already quite adept at it, or as adept as an acolyte could be, he supposed. Leaning back against the wall, Thamis observed the grand hall's inhabitants, his eyes alight with slight relief for the situation that was offered to him. He vaguely wished that someone would approach him. Everyone else seemed to be so intent on conversing, it was hardly as if any of them would notice the dark headed acolyte brooding in the corner, however handsome he might be. Thamis dismissed the thought with a twitch of his fingers, mentally chuckling to himself. It was interesting enough simply to listen. Many of the people that were attending the ball were unrecognizable to him, asides from the higher ranking Sith of course, he could hardly forget their faces so easily. Ah, there was Xanthus. Thamis watched the master with an appraising light. There was a man he respected.

 

[Rom]

The hum of conversation surged and receded with every new entrance, the more politically minded guests silently calculating the usefulness of the new guest and weighing whether to approach them or not. Others simply gossiped about the identity of the newest arrival, marveling at their victories and whispering of their defeats. The entire affair stank of arrogance or sycophancy and it was all Vereor could do not to shudder in revulsion at it all. Steeling himself to face the agony of social interaction, the Dark Lord of the Sith turned away from his silent observance of the rooftop mural and swept his disinterested gaze across the ballroom. Sanguine eyes quickly located and separated the guests in order of potential; potential corpses, potential enemies, potential allies, and the smallest group those he privately considered to be friends.

Geist Weiss, the Sith Illusionist and his shadowy right hand seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, the immaterial feel of his form in the Force revealing to one who knew him well the presence of a doppleganger. To his left, Drakus -- the Sith Master he fought alongside with in a holding action outside of Coruscant's crumbling senate hall, the new Warmaster was a worthy successor to his title and had acquitted himself well. Much of the camaraderie present in the hall was due to his work in joining Sith and Imperium forces into joint strike teams, and the success was obvious both on the battlefield and in a relaxed setting like the ball. His Empress had yet to arrive, the dark storm that was her aura distant but closing.... and a soft brush of presence against his mind, like the silk of a spiders web dancing across flesh in the wind announced the presence of the last member of his inner circle. He turned, with a deliberate slowness to hide his reaction, and immediately felt as if he had been punched in the gut, the breath rushing out of him as his eyes locked onto the quicksilver curves of one of his most trusted Darths and allies.

Raide Vakri has been a somewhat constant fixture in the Dark Lord's life since the Fall of Coruscant. Highly intelligent, unerringly loyal, and showing as much if not more cunning in the fields of politics and propaganda than he himself exhibited on the battlefield, the mysterious Darth Umbra was his sword and shield in the Game that dominated his waking hours, and a stone in his boot at all times; close, occasionally painful, and always attracting your attention when it moved. The small woman that directly oversaw the massive intelligence and propaganda machine of the Imperium somehow managed to look more alluringly dangerous than usual, the shimmering mirror that hugged to her flesh keeping her contained yet only serving to enhance her presence in the room was one of the many tactics he had slowly picked up from the woman in their many late night strolls through the tunnels and passageways of the private Palace wing. When she wasn't doing her best to turn him into a stuttering bantha with her increasingly revealing choice of night clothes.

The Barabel stalked slowly down the steps of the dais, the metal and armorweave armor swishing silently around him as he moved through the crowd of well-wishers and ladder climbers, sparing a moment to nod his head in acknowledgement towards a Noghri he recognized as the Deaths Figment that had worked under his command on Corellia before moving closer to his quarry, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he struggled to keep himself cool and composed. And of course, there was the voice.

'Alright Vereor, you're in public this time. This is not the private wing. Cold, imposing. You're the Dark Lord! Don't stare don't stare don'..... Shavit!'


Growling lowly in the back of his throat, the Barabel slammed his mental shields down tightly to block out the distraction that had become his inner thoughts, trying to focus on the here and now. Stepping smoothly in between a poshly dressed Acolyte and Raide, the Dark Lord of the Sith looked down at his companion for the evening and stared, his words catching like a gizka in a hutt's throat. Every shift of weight, every breath send a ripple of movement down the quicksilver dress, his own struck features staring back at him from the mirrored cloth covering her entire body but for a blood red symbol of the Imperium and the pale flesh of her leg strikingly teased against the shimmering silver cloth. Bowing in a shallow motion, the Barabel swallowed his hesitance and spoke in the cold hiss that the Galaxy had come to fear.

"G-..good evening Director Vakri. Thiz one iz pleased that you were able to attend."

 

[Kiro]

Director Vakri was smiling softly to herself as she sank in the atmosphere of the ballroom, sipping softly from a flute of Hapan gold wine. While she obscured her presence in the Force, she could sense the emotions churning underneath the warm smiles and the polite conversations. It was easy for the mentalist Darth to pick out those whom were less than pleased to be at the ball. As she made her way through the crowd, idly siping her beverage, her trip was arrested by an Acolyte approaching her.

"Hmm?" She queried at the Acolyte's initial question, before smiling and nodding politely to the apparently noble young Sith and his mother. "A pleasure to meet you both, my dears. And it's the duty of the Imperial Diplomatic Corps to talk. I would be remiss as it's Director not to chat with the nobility of our beloved Imperium, would I not?" She replies as she sips softly from her drink, before a certain presence entering the Ballroom draws her attention. "Ah, excuse me for a moment, please." She replies before reaching out with the Force to give the gentlest of subtle tugs to Colonel Scryer's attention.

"Ah, Colonel. I'm so pleased the Hero of the Bastion could join us." Raide almost chirps as she greets the Stormtrooper veteran, gesturing for a waitress to bring a tray of assorted drinks for the Colonel. "Colonel, may I introduce you to Azur and Cobalia Zaff," the short blonde replies, gesturing to the two Wroonians. "Young Azur is an Acolyte in the order, and Lady Cobalia is a noblewoman from Dentaal."

But throughout the introductions of the Wroonians and the Colonel, Raide could feel a presence growing in the back of her mind. A presence that resembled a solid, dark, inferno blazing within the Force. The Dark Lord of the Sith. Darth Vereor, the conqueror of Coruscant, the butcher of Corellia. She turns and smiles brightly as the reptilian Sith Lord makes his presence known. She turns with a bright smile on her lips and curtsies deeply, as one should to the second highest authority within the Imperium.

"Thank you, my liege. I wouldn't miss wonderful event for the entire world. What true patriot would?" She replies, her grey eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief as she takes a little sip of her Hapan gold.

 

[Cortan]

"I thank you, Miss Vakri. And I would think it the duty of us nobles to better understand the Empire we now serve. Certainly, I'll keep my husband informed of things he cannot seem to focus on." Azur stifled a small laughter at his mother's remark, amused by the slight against his father. The two Zaffs gestured lightly that the Director was excused for the moment to do whatever it was she required, both taking a moment to look around...
And they spotted the famous face approaching just as the Director called out to it.
"Colonel Scryer. Your deeds are legendary. It is... an honour." In truth, Azur was one of those who likely hadn't delved deep enough to peer back the veil of Imperial propaganda from reality, and whilst aware of it, still figured there had to be some reality to the accolades, any amount of which would demand respect. Azur briefly extended his hand as his mother curtsied, though the wroonian would understand to retract his hand should there be no shake.

"Certainly a party to meet the who's who of Imperial society though..." Azur briefly remarked, to which his mother nodded. As her eyes wandered though, Azur went into consideration of whether or not he should depart from his mother's side as he had intended with meeting the Lady Vakri, or stick around in the hopes of meeting other distinguished guests as these. The Director had been obvious - honestly, how could anyone not catch sight of her? - but the Colonel was an unexpected surprise. Who else might turn up if he were to wait just a few more moments...?
Well, as there was that distinctive hissing behind him, Azur's eyes widened in a combination of fear and awe.
"My, if it isn't the Dark Lord of the Sith himself. My son told me that you were among us this night." And then, it was absolute fear.

"Ah, m-my Lord." The first thing to do was to turn and bow down to one knee, the heir of Tel briefly catching sight of his mother rising from a curtsey. The blue skinned man maintained his pose for several seconds, unsure of how to continue, only for his mother to forcefully drag him back to his feet.
"A little dignity before your master might go a long way, my boy." Azur would have objected that was a little difficult when one had a far better understanding of the man's power than non-sensitives could ever grasp, but he instead remained silent on the matter, realising it better to save what face he could before the Dark Lord. Straightening himself out a bit, he began to regulate his breathing, attempting to calm and ease his nerves.
"He is... master to me only in that he is the master of all Sith." Azur first clarified for his mother, and then bowed again to the Dark Lord, but this time was more controlled, shorter, and did not involve the man looking like he stared at death in the face.

"I-I am welcome to be in your presence, my Lord. May I... ask what brings you to the floor?" Dignity, dignity. Dignity in the way of such a presence was the willingness to approach it. Perhaps not as equal members of the Sith Order, but fellow citizens of the Empire itself...
"Isn't it obvious? Its not what, but who. And I would say, a very fine choice. Wouldn't you agree boys?" Cobalia shot a small glance over Director Vakri with a nod, and lightly gestured to the others around her to comment. Azur... kindly refrained, though the brief observation and cough he let out made his unspoken answer rather obvious.

 

[Silverface]

A odd feeling at the back of his mind had caused Rufus to turn, spotting a face that, while lovely and welcoming, was not one he'd have wished to see. Director Vakri, master weaver of propaganda. And probably the sole reason for his catapulted fame and the headaches it brought with it. Interviews, printed books, holobooks, holodramas based on events he frankly didn't know happened. All of it played by the master puppeteer in the shimmering dress. He didn't bother to disguise that flicker of negative emotion which could be surmised as 'Oh shit'. But, he smiled and strolled over, extricating himself from a conversation with an overweight Rodian merchant who had, until now, been boring the Stormtrooper to tears with the minutiae knowledge of how much a Stormtrooper platoon eats on the march.

"Corps Commander now, Director" he politely corrected as she addressed him by his old rank with a smile, turning his attention to the two he was being introduced to "A pleasure to meet you both and please, don't let my reputation get in the way. The reality is far humbler than the stories say" and taking Azur's hand in a strong, confident handshake, the Stormtrooper officer holding a glass of something wine-like in his other hand. Scryer's green eyes flicking from son to mother to Director quickly, an easy smile plastered on his face. The tight, starched dress uniform in it's bright crimson and white, was starting to irritate him, but decorum demanded he didn't loosen it until the host arrived and gave permission for the gathering to become more relaxed. And some dull, painful ache in the back of his head gave him an inkling as to whom the host of this gathering would be.

And then, a chill settled on him. As probably one of a handful of non-Force sensitive sentients in the hall outside of the serving staff, the presence of the Dark Lord of the Sith was very unsettling to him as he turned and threw a crisp salute even as that tiny, suppressed fear response in the back of his head rang like a bell. Stormtrooper training went out of it's way to erase the fear response, but it never could truly be removed. So to say Scryer was afraid of Vereor would be both a half-lie and a half-truth. "My Lord"

 

[Bantha]

Tsukihana immediately went rigid as she felt a frightening presence approach her. She felt contempt, and the feeling poured into her Force aura. Buried beneath the hate there was a small twinge of love, too, but she would never admit it. 'Its been a long time... what mishap is she going to cause tonight?' Her hands curled into fists at the thought.

----------
Ivaris strode into the ballroom with a confident swagger, ignoring with some effort the eyes she knew were upon her scars. 'Hey, they should have seen the other guy,' she told herself, 'and at least the booze is free.' But she would never be here if it weren't for the insistence of her sparring partner on Ziost. "Go for me, please? I'm staying to train so I don't fall behind," she had said. Of course Ivaris said yes without hesitation. 'But for the love of fracking Chaos, I shouldn't have said yes to the kriffin' dress.' Her corseted black dress was borrowed from her sparring partner, she recalled with a gasp. Gods, it seemed tight, especially when getting used to her new cybernetic lungs. The garmet highlighted her ample hourglass curves scandalously, however did little to hide her scars. Her left arm and leg had been lost in the acolyte tournament, and the dress left exposed both grotesque junction points of metal melding into flesh. Her whip scars and slave brand were exposed too, along with the rings around her right wrist, ankle, and neck from the shackles and shock collar. The crowning glory of it all was her face; the right half was painted with half of the Imperial insignia, but the left half had a milky eye and badly burned, melted-looking skin. It was all very gruesome to see. 'More to scare people with,' she rationalized, 'After all, a little Chaos never hurt anyone.'

She too could feel Tsukihana's agitation and migrated toward her Other, only guided by the familiar feeling in the Force radiating from her.

"Hello Anne, you've certainly changed. In appearance; I'm sure you're still the prude as always," Ivaris said, noticing her Other's shapeless outfit.

----------
Even though the words spoken were simple small talk, each of them spat out daggers and venom. There was a great tension in the air around them that was almost palatable. Tsukihana hissed "I am Tsukihana the Moonflower. Anne-Victoria is dead." She was not suprised her Other did not recognize her. "And of course I have changed. For the better, might I add, unlike you. You look like you agitated a nexu a bit too much."

"Yeah, I got messed up good. Tournaments will do that to ya'. But how have your skills fared?" Tsukihana barely had time to react as Ivaris' arm shot forward at her breastbone, hand shaped like a blade. Three metal claws ejected themselves from underneath Ivaris' organic ones and locked into place. But Tsukihana did react in time, sending out her own arm in the same manner. To the naked eye, it seemed to happen at the same time.

"You're--"

"Slow? I know."

"No, really you're too kind," Ivaris said wryly, "How about--"

"A drinking contest? Might as well, the alcohol is free."

"You know me well. Guess you're not as much of a prude as I thought you were." Ivaris smirked as she talked.

----------
Both girls headed over to the drink table. Ivaris approached a dark haired female and a purple Keshiri ((?)) male talking.

"Would you be so kind as to judge a drinking contest between us?" she asked. 'Oh,' she thought, 'This is going to be fun.'

 

[OhNoesBunnies]

| ✲ |

Rayex at some point found a little platter of delicious, edible entrees. Thus, she munches on them quietly.​