Open Social Lettuce Celebrate

[Sol Kenuk]

She had tried to light Vahliri on fire? Oh, he had to hear that story. But it seemed that before anymore conversation could be had, the Kel'dor's dance partner broke away to engulf Clove within a rather delicate embrace, as if they were two close friends soothing one another as the chaos burned throughout the grand palace around them.

Sol is left standing there, entirely uncertain as to what to do. He doesn't know Clove, and he isn't interested in hugging up to Aadya either, or any woman, for that matter. So, he turns his eyes to the fight being waged between Altair and Draugr. The Tiefling was... doing surprisingly well. Was Draugr about to get knocked onto his ass in the middle of a party?

Well, it wasn't so unusual, this was a Sith party, after all, and if Draugr had to have picked anyone in the room to get his ass beat by, Altair was certainly the right choice. The Tiefling had saved Korriban, had won several battles already. He had a glorious reputation, after all. It was far less embarrassing to get thrashed by Altair than it would be if it were some Acolyte, or a random Champion nobody had ever heard of before.

And all the while, the flames that had licked their way up the curtain had spread to the next curtains, and then to the next. Smoke rose to cloud the towering ceilings above, and the smell of it was a lot more obvious now. Hell, the fire itself was bright enough to grab the eyes of most. Still, many seemed more interested in watching the two fights than putting out the flames.

At least he can hear Clove finally pulling away from Aadya. Sol hears his name, and he turns with a smile, still where they had left them.

@LilyNion @Scoobert @Sreeya @Logan

 

[John Q]

Grabbing a drink off a tray he walked up to Drane and threw it in his face as he passed and pivoted to slap the man hard in the face with the back of his hand before stepping back.

"You are possessed by powerful force ghosts."

@Die Shize

 

[Altair Din]

The Matukai punch would have been enough to crack Draugr’s sternum. However, as the Zabrak threw up his palm to block, the punch collided harshly against it. There was a sick and audible crunch not unlike when the rat was killed. The Zabrak’s hand bent back at an unnatural angle and his wrist cracked and broke at once, making the limb limp and useless. The forward momentum of the punch and his attempted grip on the fist meant Draugr’s own hand slammed back towards his chest.

The tiefling didn’t stop there, the forceful continuation of his punch ensuring that he whirled in close with his full body towards Draugr. Altair tucked his chin downwards and slammed the tough, joined space where his horns joined into the Zabrak’s face. The blow would knock out a tooth or two, possibly crack his nose, and likely topple him flat on his back on the ground.

Altair didn’t follow up with any moves after that, bouncing back to stand in his Matukai stance as he stared at the Sith Master. The tiefling slowly lowered his arms, looking down at Draugr.

“Now we don’t have a problem,” Altair declared. Unless the Sith Master wanted to continue the fight, the tiefling would reach a hand down and yank Draugr up to his feet by the hand that wasn't broken.

@Scoobert

 

[Bel]

So Varyn took the fall, but for some reason, Bel felt nothing as he watched the Champion go down. Vahliri's reaction was expected, but she would only receive Bel's jaded expression, eyes burning with malice. When she began squeezing his chest, Bel flowed the Force through his body to make himself more durable, which lessened the blow. The hair pin wasn't anything special either, and the Agent would attempted to grab her wrist, twist it in such a way that it would disarm her pointy weapon, while side stepping in one motion to deliver a blow with his elbow to her nose.

"I'm doing the same thing you did on Korriban, you bitch. Taking action." Bel spat with fury. "So what does that make you?" Maybe it was better to finish the fight and teach her a lesson. No… not with Anai watching him like a rabid dog. Bel would only go on the defensive and give counter attacks. So, Bel would release the other Champion, pushing her back a bit to give them space. If the hairpin did indeed fall out of her hand, Bel would use the Force to pull into his hand this time. "Consider this a mercy. I could've killed him- I could've killed you! But I didn't need Darth Raze to keep my animalistic urges under control." Yeah, it was petty... but, the Nightbrother couldn't care less. This was not the Empire he had been fighting for. Not anymore.

@Altaris @Versok

 

[Darth Draugr]

As Draugr had went to catch the punch.. he felt his metacarpals crack, his wrist bend back, skin ripping and slam into his chest. The pain sharp and excruciating. It had been enough to distract him entirely from the fight, and when the headbutt from Altair landed, he could feel a moler knock loose, and a bludgeoning pain shot through his frontal part of his face as he fell back onto the ground. It was so swift.. so strong. 'So this.. is what.. Matukai's.. potential is..'

The Zabrak lying back on the ground looked over to see his wrist and hand broken. The skin on the wrist ripped back and exposing the inside of his arm. Blood began spilling from the right arm. The white suit ruined. How could have he been bested so easily? How could he have lost in front of every Sith here. So many battles.. and yet here he had been beaten in two moves. The embarrassment consumed the Zabraki.. he felt so many eyes on him. He could feel them all judging him. A failure.. he was now shown as a failure among his peers and his subordinates.

Then he noticed the Tiefling's hand reaching to lift him up. Draugr was being shown mercy.. being told that it was now not a problem.. In the mind of the Zabrak he could help but think to himself that he had just lost in front of Imani. Something he wished would never have happened.. happened.

Instead of continuing his fight, because he knew he would lose in the physical condition he was in, he took the hand of the Tiefling accepting his loss. Standing up he had known to accept failure before this time was no different. The balance almost completely lost, as he had been hit in the hard as hell. Once he was on his feet the sting returned shooting through his arm, and disgruntled pained groan came from him hidden behind a closed mouth refusing to show weakness. A respectful nod came from the Zabrak to the victor. A within his head was a pulsing pain, throbbing over and over again. Medical staff ran over to grab the Sith Master and pull him off to the side, and he let out a couple words before he was no longer in front of Altair.. "Teach.. me.."

@Sreeya

 

[Luwalhati]

This was their third social and this time, Lu had no plans of dipping out like what they did on the first two.

Not when the dance floor devolved from having dancers gliding gracefully on marbled floors into Sith fighting one another. Amber gaze lingered for a few moments to where Champion Varyn Atrix (@Phoenix) lay on the floor before they flickered over to Champion Vahliri Kahtal (@Altaris) duking it out with Agent Bel (@Charles), then over to Sith Master Draugr (@Scoobert) going toe to toe with Commander Altair Din (@Sreeya) after the former killed an oversized rat and being slapped by Champion Imani Din (@lizziie) for it.

The pink-haired Acolyte rose from where they sat on the corner observing everything that was happening, small hands smoothing their flowing, black skirt. It went pretty well with their hand-painted silk barong, the outfit overall making them look less innocuous let alone not letting them really stand out amidst a sea of dashing suits and elegant dresses. Hidden beneath their floor-length skirt was a pair of black high-heeled ankle boots.

One pale hand lifted to fix their glasses, gaze behind lenses trying to pinpoint where their owner should go. Off to where Champion Atrix lay on the floor, or where a pretty knife-eared girl (@LilyNion) was being embraced by Champion Aadya Rasheer (@Logan)? Lu chewed on their bottom lip, brows furrowing. On one hand, the pretty elf-girl looked to be receiving the consolation she needed as the two women flitted over to where Champion Sol Kenuk (@Nevermourn) was. Varyn Atrix, on the other hand, remained on the floor where other Sith (@Wit) were looking him over.

Before their mind caught up to what their body was doing, Lu found themself marching towards Varyn, eyes scanning where the Champion had dropped his drink. Carefully, the Acolyte politely pushed away anyone who blocked their path, intent on finding what remained of the glass and whatever morsel of liquid that clung to it. Once they reached the downed and paralyzed Champion, Lu ultimately found the man's glass where it lay shattered on the floor.

A passing waiter carrying an empty tray was promptly stopped by the Acolyte. Lu took the tray from the man and carefully levitated the shattered glass, depositing the wet pieces on the tray. Blinking up at Champion Nakoa Singh (@Mr. Teatime), Lu shrugged, free hand helplessly gesturing at the fighters and the chaos the ballroom was spiralling into.

"I don't know anymore," commented the pink-haired Acolyte with a wince.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC [Optionally]

Drane is my man but I am not Drane.
Yet, I am able to enter my char’s brain.
Sometimes that makes things a bit fuzzy.
Posting again cuz a roleplayer did a funny.

For me, these posts have too much feeling.
I do understand the feeling and the flow though.
But all these heartbeats are in need—of a healing.
Extended hyphen—separate lines again—rhyme post.

Okay…if we’re going to play this isolated thread game.
We’re going to do it in a way that is okay…s’all I can say.
I was debating whether to post again in this thread anyway.
Only a mess in the sense I can’t keep up with all that’s at play.

I usually don’t post in social roleplays for this very reason.
But I had to experiment again and just go with the season.
A man isn’t running—nope—as he stands he is not fleeing.
More than one must understand: he’s in this for the writing.

Separate the IC from the OOC.
I don’t always do it, we can agree.
Mostly it is just that artistic license.
Whether believe—disagree—friends!

So comes down the fourth wall.
Up again—let’s go have a ball.
Be calm—me, you—yes—all.
No burning curtain, trip or fall.

A Sith…well he did not live for this.
Getting slapped in the face, that is.
Yet, I joined this thread to post in it.
Of an opponent, a Sith has business.

Drane was…well he’s kinda busy dancing.
Something this, something that happening.
Just too lazy to read all these great replies.
No rage—no rage—against the dying light.

Queue the rather rude move of one John Q.
Guy, bad mood, almost like throws his shoe.
Why the name, anyway, Denzel Washington?
Okay, Tay, a few rounds of playful PVP again.

Grabbing a drink off a tray
John walked up to Drane
And he threw it in his face
As he passed and pivoted
To slap a man hard in face.

Drane…Drane is his name.
DRANE. I CAME TO SLAY.
And what do we say again?
To death? Oh. NOT TODAY.

-SLAP!-
“D’OH!”

I already forgot about the splash.
Let me bring that back in—add it.
Drane’s dressed in gold champagne.
Not his intention; a foe must be insane.

There goes my date.
She got soaked too.
Guess I’m too late.
I’ll miss her boo—

“See here, mate.”
Black gold gaze.
“You’ll be cake.”
A squishy fate.

Queue the slapping contest.
Drane swings and gives his best.
But misses his target—completely.
Drane’s date slaps him before leaving.

“D’OH!”
That’s both sides of a man’s face, folks.
Know I keep saying it but shorter next post.

Spoiler: Combat Summary

Dice Roll
Result: 2
Reason: Slap John Q in the face

Target: John Q
Actions: Defending | Attacking
Defending: Fails at splash and slap to face
Attacking: Fails at slap to face, gets slapped in face

@Taygood

 

[Celeste Stythani]

No fancy pinned up hair, just a simply, sleek ponytail. No stunning, unique, tailored dress as usual. No elegant high heels, just simple boots like every other waitress. As embarrassing as this all was, it seemed like so far she had done a pretty decent job in avoiding familiar faces. While they made her serve drinks and snacks in a black and white waitress uniform, she blend in well with the other servants and whenever she spotted someone she knew, she skillfully headed towards someone waving at her from a completely different corner.

The further the night progress, the faster things escalated. The first incident had been a paralyzed champion (@Phoenix) , apparently drugged by a Zabrak (@Charles) and 'unfortunately', the assassin had chosen the wrong date. Of course Vahliri (@Altaris) hadn't even wasted a single second before attacking the fool, but Celeste was still wondering what events had led to the incident in the first place. She watched this scene with mild amusement though, however always ensuring she was just inconspicuously catching a glimpse every now and then.

Celeste hadn't been able to pay too much attention to that drama though, as a very enraged Altair (@Sreeya) - who, btw, had entered the event with Master Tiamat (@GABA) at his side- shouted at a blonde Anfynn (@LilyNion) and totally lost his shit. She had stared at this particular scene wide-eyed, however hidden from Altair's sight by cleverly engaging a tall Pantoran in a flirtatious conversation and ensuring that his tall frame was always blocking most the Tiefling's sight in her direction.

The drama with Altair and the ladies was admittedly nothing new and she wasn't particularly surprised that there was angry yelling, yet she couldn't fully ignore that seeing him with not just one, but even more women was nagging on her. The things between them were still weird and she had no idea what to make out of it, but it had only been a question of time until something like this happened and perhaps it was even a miracle that neither Aadya (@Logan) nor Vahliri were involved, too. In this regard, it was maybe a good thing that no one had actually paid attention to her, but as Tiamat stormed off and the blonde left too, she felt the need to check on him sooner or later.

The rat madness was surely something interesting as well...however she hadn't even seen who had brought the rat in the first place until Altair- seriously, who else?!- stepped up after Draugr yelled across the room. 'Oh no....' she whispered to herself as Altair marched up towards Draugr (@Scoobert), who then also received a decent bitch slap from another Tiefling (@lizziie). It was about then when her mouth was open in shock, watching the scene while frozen on the spot, however right then there was another brawl starting (@Die Shize + @Taygood) that caught her attention for a brief second, right after Altair had skillfully planted a punch against the other master.

There was simply to much going on, and as she noticed that her tray was already empty, she knew that regardless of this pure chaos, she had to continue serving. While trying to ignore everything else that was going on in various corners, she even saw a fire spreading at the other side of the room and while all curious onlookers kept staring at the brawls that had broken loose, there was literally no one doing anything against the flames. "You've got to be kidding me" she desperately cursed under her breath while she sprinted over, simply putting the emptied tray down on the nearest table before she coiled the Force around her.

This was complete madness.

While the chaos erupted all around, she was desperately hoping that no one would spot her while she used the Force to attempt to suffocate the flames. The whole curtain was already brightly glowing and the first darkish clouds of smoke were spreading, but all spectators were seemingly focused on other areas right now. She applied the Force like a thick blanket, pushing back the smoke and not allowing the fire to consume any more oxygen to spread. It was a good thing that the fire wasn't too widespread yet, but she was almost losing it at the fact that still no one seemed to care. Admittedly, it wasn't the party guests' job, but it also seemed like most of the waiters were only mildly bothered by the flames. Shaking her head, she pushed and pushed further, sniffing out the remains of the fire while a joyful, graceful waltz underlined the madness. Sure...the usual Imperial party night indeed.

@alltherest

 

[Varyn Atrix]

Perhaps Sith social events weren't for him. Varyn was still laying on the ground when everyone began to swarm around, but he was too panicked to hear what most people were saying to him. He thought her heard Altair (@Sreeya) shouting orders at someone and a girl (@Versok) he didn't know who had been talking to Vahliri was reassuring him before vanishing off again. It seemed the only person who had stuck around was a woman he didn't know (@Wit) and a guy who looked a whole lot like the acolyte he had trained in saber combat (@Mr. Teatime).

He heard Vahliri (@Altaris) yelling for him before she seemed to move off to start fighting someone. He pushed himself to stand- oh wait, no he didn't because he couldn't move. Try as he might to get to his feet, his body simply wasn't having any of it. His breathing was quick and panicked and it took another thirty seconds for him to actually begin to calm himself down, remembering he was a Sith.

He let the Force flow through him, speeding his body's enzymes and pushing them through their metabolism process with much greater efficiency. He needed to get over this so that he could get up and kill the person responsible. Simple as that.

His responses to everyone around him were, as one might expect, pretty much nonexistent because he couldn't actually move. This was horrible.

 

[Aadya Rasheer]

In a particularly rare instance for her, Aadya was actually taller than someone else. With Clove's face buried in her chest, Aadya's gaze initially was pulled downward as she absentmindedly stroked the girl's hair in an attempt to further comfort her.

Against her better judgement, Aadya returned her attention back to the fight between Altair and Draugr, curiosity getting the better of her. She fully expected Altair to put the Sith Master into the dirt and as she watched Draugr attempt to catch a punch, Aadya couldn't help but wince in phantom pain. Pretty sure she just watch a man's wrist explode. Yikers.

When Clove pulled away and began to speak, Aadya returned peered down at the girl and gave her small knowing smile.

You're welcome, Clove. Aadya said softly, her once dark brown eyes now permanently flecked with gold staring directly into Clove's. And I'm.. Aadya paused for a moment, biting her lip in anxiousness before continuing. I'm sorry.

Aadya wasn't sure what made her say that or what she was actually apologizing for. Maybe it was combination of things. A half cup of "oops about your spine", a teaspoon of "I'm sure those Jedi kids I stole are doing fine", and a couple sprinkles of "don't fret over Altair, he's just being a douche."

A strange mixture, all things considered. Although the strangest part of it all was that Aadya never really said sorry to anyone for anything. But it seemed.. appropriate now. Just this once to a person she had harmed and seen done harm. Hmm.

As the two returned to Sol, Aadya would flash the Keldor an apologetic smile for leaving him so abruptly.

I promise, you can have the next one. Aadya said, patting Sol on the shoulder as she pulled Clove past him and back out to the dance floor.

For whatever reason, Aadya didn't want time together to end just yet.

@LilyNion @Nevermourn

 

[Altair Din]

Altair glanced over at Draugr’s arm. The tiefling felt a pang of regret, but he was still in a mood. He didn’t comprehend yet the gravity of what had just happened. He dropped the Sith Master Draugr in combat, a man renowned for his intimidating demeanor second only to Raze himself. There were whispers here and there around the dance hall, but Altair was oblivious to it all.

The tiefling threw Draugr’s good arm over his own shoulder to support the other man and keep him standing. The fight was done - Altair would treat the Sith Master with nothing but respect. While waiting for the medics to arrive, the tiefling kept his gaze ahead but muttered quietly so Draugr could hear, “You and my sister eh?” He asked barely above a whisper, still holding the other man up, “I’ll put in a good word,” He said as he handed Draugr off to the medics. Altair patted the Zabrak on the back as he did so.

The tiefling first made his way back towards his sister (@lizziie ), already catching the look on her face, “I’m fine, Nani,” He said with a tired smile, “Can I have a night off from good behavior today?” Altair asked with a sigh. He always acted proper around his older sisters, but he simply didn’t have the energy tonight, “He ain’t a bad guy,” Altair jutted his chin towards Draugr, “Think he really digs you. You should go talk to him. We ain’t got no beef. Fight’s done,” Altair leaned to give her a hug before making his way towards the bar.

Altair downed several shots in quick succession before he finally noticed that his hand was still bleeding. His entire wrist and sleeve was coated in black. He glanced over at one of the bartenders, snapping his fingers to call them over to ask for a rag.

“Y-Yes Master Din,” The bartender replied with a hint of fear in his voice. The title and the demeanor made Altair wince. Master Din? He wasn’t sure how he liked the sound of that. Altair took the proffered questionable rag and wrapped it haphazardly around his dominant hand and called it a day. The gash on his hand probably needed stitches, but he’d had worse injuries before. The tiefling took his drink and walked off to the side, bumming a cigarra off someone as he walked out into a balcony.

Altair stared over the railing as he lit the cigarra, feeling the cool breeze against his hair. This evening was to celebrate Korriban and his accomplishments and it had all turned to disaster. In one fell swoop, he had lost multiple people. In the end, he was alone and that’s how he always knew it would go. Altair pulled from the cigarra, blowing out a cloud of smoke into the sky as he stared up at the stars. Before he could stop himself, he felt hot tears well up in his eyes. He had the titles and honors, and yet he was left feeling hollow. He was changing and he knew it. He was becoming more distant and cold. Just like that the boy that made pies to enter into the Harvest Festival every year was gone.

He exhaled softly as the first tears slid down his face, but he wiped them away quickly. He was alone out here, but even then it felt unthinkable for him to cry or show weakness. He was a Commander. The weight of losing his men on Korriban and everything else that happened tonight came crashing down on him at once. Altair leaned over the railing and stared down at the void as he smoked. He was making steps towards his dreams and he was left feeling empty. Left feeling alone.

It was exactly what he deserved.

@Scoobert

 

[Darth Tempest]

There were no words spoken as Vahliri closed the distance between herself and Bel - aggressively moving in to dispatch the Agent without hesitation. Molten fury burned within her eyes - manifesting in the yellow tint that appeared to eclipse her natural ambers. Her encounter with Altair had already put the half-Annfyn in a sour mood, and Bel’s cowardly and unwarranted attack only served to turn her gloom to anger.

Her jaw set into a firm line, feeling as Bel latched onto her wrist and attempted to twist the hairpin free. Perhaps to the Agent’s surprise, Vahliri made no attempt to keep hold of the accessory-turned-weapon - instead allowing the hairpin to fall from her grip. Her fingers unfurled from a fist and into an open hand, tips of her fingers pointed towards the Zabrak stupid enough to put his hands on her.

While the Agent whirled his elbow forth to strike her in the nose, Vahliri merely lifted her free, unrestricted arm in response - tucking her head and proceeding to raise her forearm into a vertical guard in front of her face. As a result, Bel’s elbow would land against the top of Valhiri’s forearm - and though she felt the dull pain of taking the blocking the strike, it wasn’t nearly enough to shatter bone or cartilage like a strike to her nose would have.

Instead of freeing herself from Bel’s grasp, Vahliri deliberately lingered against the contact. She had no patience for the Zabrak, their fight or any of the venomous words he attempted to spit. The Force billowed forth from the half-Annfyn - flowing down and manifesting as sparks of violet and blue that danced between her fingers. Bel would only have the opportunity to get off the word ‘bitch’ before a streak of violent, powerful electricity poured out from the half-Annfyn’s fingertips - pointed directly into the Zabrak’s chest without remorse.

Her attack was timed mid-way through Bel’s monologue and just as he released her hand - capitalizing on the fact he was mere inches away. The blast of lightning carried enough energy to send the Zabrak sailing backwards through the air, interrupting his attempted grab of the hairpin alongside all of the excruciating pain that came with being struck by Sith lightning.

 

[Wodan]

His dance with Jasnah was slowly coming to its natural conclusion when Caerllion made his appearance at his side. The Firrerrian gave his friend a confused look as he scanned his dilated pupils, what the hell was the Annfyn on. It didn’t surprise him that Caerllion would ask him to dance, but it was the slight drooling from the right corner of his mouth which worried him. “In a second, I just need to have a quick piss. Why don’t you grab us some drinks.”

With that Wodan would excuse himself from Jasnah and Caerllion with a light bow and head towards the side of the room. Once away from the pair he would make a quick detour towards one of the servers (@LadyRen) and lent in to whisper into her ear. “Can you make sure whatever he asks for is non-alcoholic.” Once that was dealt with he would make for the bathrooms.

Like most public bathrooms at such events, it began clean, with everyone acting decently, but overtime it slowly descended into a piss covered cesspool filled with drugs and fucking. It was probably around twenty five percent there, most cubicles had run out of toilet paper, a small pool of yellow liquid was beginning in the corner by the urinals and there was a small group of Sith doing lines of spice next to the hand dryer. Making sure to lift his clothes off the ground so as to not be soaked in ‘whatever’ that was, he headed to one of the urinals. Far Left, that was the safe bet as the pool of ‘whatever’ was flowing to the right. A few moments later he was fully relieved with a little more spring in his step as he no longer had the pressure of a canister in his stomach.

Returning to the main hall he was able to view the aftermath of the carnage which had taken place since he went to the bathroom. Apparently his piss was up there for a Galactic Record in length considering the chaos which has unfolded since he left. Glancing across the room he spotted Altair as usual in the middle of the chaos, Wodan rolled his eyes, but stopped as he saw the look on the young man’s face. He had seen a similar look before, back on the yacht. What the hell had gone down whilst he was gone? Wodan felt bad that he had not been around when whatever it was went down, the Tiefling had become like a brother to him and seeing that look on his face again created a small pang of sorrow in the Firrerrian’s chest.

Grabbing a pair of drinks he passed Draugr who was receiving medical attention, the Firrerrian giving him the Zabrak a confused look as he passed. He followed Altair at a distance, he kept his pace slow, his eyes watching the man. Altair needed a few moments to collect whatever thoughts and emotions he was experiencing before the Firrerrian turned up.

Moving up next to Altair, Wodan spotted the telltale sign of tears on the man’s face. He really had missed out on something, again that pang struck through his stomach. He placed the glass down on the railing next to him, the glass and metal making a light clunk. It was strong, Firrerrian whiskey, it would hit the spot even with both his and the Tiefling’s advanced systems. He hoped it was what he needed right now. Just like the yacht Wodan stood leaning up against the same balcony Altair peered over, not saying a word.

@Sreeya @LouJoVi

 

[Anai Skhess]

Anai had finalized circling around Bel and had now positioned herself behind him, a few meters of distance in order to let them play nice at first. She was going to jump at him after he tried to strike back at Vahl, but she stopped herself as she felt how Vahl called to the force and suddenly the Zabrak would be sent flying.

Anai could've done many things: She could've ducked or jumped out of the way of the attack, she could've used force speed to get away from the flying asshole coming towads him. But instead, she decided to use the force to enhance her already pretty big strength, why? Well, because the Kaleesh wanted to seal the deal as quick and swiftly as possible, make 100% sure that Bel would be unconscious by the end of it.

So she planted her feet and caught the flying man, quickly leaning backwards as she did. Anai would be using the momentum Bel had received from the lightning alongside her now heightened strength and power to give Bel the mother of all suplexes, driving him to the ground with great strength, if he had not been knocked out by Vahl's lightning attack, the suplex would certainly do it, good thing there was medical staff around.

Should he not end up flying for any reason, the result would be the same: Anai jumping Bel from behind and slamming him against the floor with a suplex regardless, just without the style points that grabbing someone launched at her added to it.

@Altaris @Charles

 

[Caerllion of Cyfnos]

”He won’t come back.” Caerllion muttered to himself, before pouting again. Even with his head still being clouded because of the spice, it was obvious that Wodan had ditched his offer to dance under the excuse to use the bathroom. “Silly, what did you expect? Right now he is into girls!” the Annfyn laughed as if he had said some type of funny joke.

“It’s his loss, though. I’m a good dancer.” he shrugged, before starting to move to the rhythm of the music alone. Or at least what his drugged mind thought that was being played at the moment. Caerllion had attended dance lessons since he was only eight years old, but his professor would have a heart attack if they saw him right now. He looked like a drunk fathier with four left feet.

Thankfully, no one was watching him being stupid. The eyes of the crowd were turned to the chaos that was happening around the ballroom. The fight between Draugr and Altair, Vahliri murdering Bel and the fire that was spreading in the curtains while some servers tried to put it down.

Moving in a drugged dance, Caerllion would arrive near Sol in the time that he was left alone by Aadya and Clove. Seeing the Kel’Dor, the Annfyn smiled at him before waving his hand. “Hello, Sol! Can you help me? I wanted to dance, but I’m now feeling sooo dizzy.” the Acolyte said, putting his left hand on his head. The effect of the spice was starting to end and all the spins that he did while “dancing” alone only made it worse.

“Although, I would not mind dancing some more. Would you like to do it with me?” Caerllion smiled stupidly at the Kel’Dor. “Or do you prefer to make another rat with me? I never said, but I really liked to work with you. You are soooo cool!” he said, while giving the Champion a thumb up with both hands.

@Braden @Nevermourn

 

[Sol Kenuk]

That certainly looked painful. Just as expected, Altair sends Draugr to the floor. No doubt, the Sith Master would need to get that hand looked at, the limb had might as well imploded on impact from that Tiefling's punch. And all the while, the smell of smoke grew thicker in the air. Sol had hoped that he'd regain his dance partner, but Aadya merely strides past him with an apologetic pat and an empty promise that the Kel'dor knew he couldn't count on. Clove and that woman would be dancing all night, it seemed.

Well, that left him alone on the dance floor, didn't it? His eyes roamed toward John Q getting into a slap fight with another Sith, and then of course, Varyn was still on the ground looking not so dissimilar from when Vahliri had gotten bodied by the Orcolan on Nar Shaddaa. Naturally, Bel was on the defensive as both Vahliri and some Kaleesh that the Kel'dor didn't recognize went after the poor Zabrak with all the brutality one might expect from a Sith. Bel was fighting for his life, it seemed, and not doing a very good job of it. As for Altair, he had disappeared from the crowd entirely.

Sol wonders just how attached he had been to Skeever, who's body now rested limp upon the dance-floor, discarded like trash. Well, it wasn't a good look, the Kel'dor thinks. The Tiefling had been so blatantly excited about the gift, that even in the short time he had owned the mutated rat, it was clear enough that Altair had already grown attached. If that hadn't been the case, the other Sith wouldn't have knocked the infamous Master Draugr onto his ass like a raging bull.

All in all, the night was as enjoyable as it was disappointing. I'll make him a new rat, Sol thinks, and that was the end of that. He wasn't going to seek the Tiefling out, Sol wasn't his babysitter. He does use the force to push the large rat corpse under some tables, though. At least then he didn't have to worry about tripping over the damn thing. A second later, and the vocals of Caerllion fill his ears, as the other Sith stumbles in a drugged haze toward the Kel'dor, muttering some nonsense.

Nope.

A one word thought, and Sol was gone. He slips away from Caerllion and back into the crowd, because he did not want to deal with whatever that was. Altair's spice had really melted the poor guy's brain, and Sol's not about to deal with the fallout of that, either. Not to mention, he was admittedly a bit peeved that Aadya had ditched him for Clove. So, instead of dealing with all of those problems and unwanted feelings of annoyance, he instead heads toward the growing fire as a woman in a waitress-like outfit desperately tries to snuff out the blaze.

"Need a hand?" Sol inquires in a rather dry tone.

Stood up on the dance floor and with no pretty men to flirt with, the Kel'dor had little else to do but assist in managing the fire before it could cook them all alive. Really though, would that be a bad thing? Some things could only really be purged with fire, after all. Still, he can't be all mad. The party had been entertainment central, and while a few things seemed to be winding down, and of course, a few hearts and minds had been shattered, the Kel'dor could still call it a pretty fun night, even if he was annoyed about losing his dance.

Of course, it was a bitter shame that Sol couldn't partake in all of the fun. He couldn't drink like the rest could, given his anti-ox mask. All the more reason to have a more custom form fit to his face, something that would allow him to enjoy a bit of alcohol without the danger of suffocation. That was a thought for the future, though, so for now, the Kel'dor joins Celeste in using the force to tame the flames, practically smothering them out of the torched curtains. Celeste had done most of the work, really, but at least it had given Sol an excuse to bolt from the baked form of Caerllion before there were anymore awkward admissions.

@LouJoVi @Sreeya @LilyNion @Logan @LadyRen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC [Optionally]

-SLAP!-
-SLAP!-
-SLAP!-
-SLAP!-

Two Sith are slapped out
And tapped out after this.

“I concede.”
Says he.
“You win.”
A napkin.

His opponent proved ferocious.
And though a warrior is this Sith.
Fighting tonight—wasn’t feeling it.
“I’m here to dance. Not swing fists.”

A server passes this way.
Plucks glass from a tray.
“A penny…for the mess.”
Not server: John’s chest.

A Sith can toss a credit chit.
Low value—does Q catch it?
Drane doesn’t wait to find out.
Down champagne, turn around.

A man stands in the middle of ballroom.
Bells, trumpets, instruments—call a tune.
His jacket lapels—are now a golden hue.
Not a night for violence. Could use food.

From a tray, hors d'oeuvre.
Prosciutto-Wrapped Figs.
A Sith’s teeth do devour.
Splendid! It is delicious!

A new glass—one to sip from.
After all this, some fresh air.
Balcony at left—over there.
A door—a breeze comes.

Drane doesn’t smoke but smells smoke.
Scent of cigarra is from somewhere close.
He navigates to the railing over that one way.
Music is now faint—he spots that familiar face.

Altair—is his name.
Or it was, anyway.
Are those tears?
A gaze—lingers.

Yet, Drane doesn’t pass judgment.
The Commander might just be drunk.
Inebriated Sith can lose control of emotions.
Whatever his problem is, might just need a beer.

“You look rather glum for someone who has won.”
Drane isn’t one to care much but offers him a shrug.
Champion Drane had on a plain white suit in comparison.
“Imperial Commander. Your own regiment. Stellar promotion.”

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair finished the cigarra and was staring off into the darkness. He began to run whatever was happening that evening through his head to distract from thoughts of his Imperials on Korriban. He had passed by Varyn being surrounded by people and still lying on the floor for some reason. Vahliri was doing…who knows what, he blocked her out of his mind because he couldn’t even process that right now. Clove was being consoled by Aadya, because of course, why wouldn’t she be coddled as usual? He was the only one in her life that never treated her like some poor defenseless porg. His thoughts turned bitter at that for no good reason.

When he was truly at his lowest, the women in his life fucked off and showed their true colors. The same ones that promised to stick with him through thick and thin. It felt cathartic in a way to let go. He knew he should have done it a long time ago. He refused to admit to himself that he pushed people away because it was easier to tell himself people simply used him. Clove could never truly be there when he was broken, because she could never stomach his shattered sides. She could put the entire galaxy above herself, but could never do that for Altair. It was what he would remind himself to tear himself out of the funk he had been in for far too long. Drunk thoughts were toxic thoughts.

He heard a noise and turned to see Wodan (@Braden). The tiefling quickly raised his hand to wipe his face, the dirty rag coming in handy. Altair cracked a smile at the sight of him, “Sick outfit,” He said, “I’m surprised Caer didn’t try to cop a feel of your titty,” He coughed a few times, rubbing his eyes again as more tears came with his laugh. Altair saw the drink and hailed over a server to grab an entire bottle of Firrerrian whiskey.

Altair grabbed the glass and tossed it back before taking a swig from the bottle directly. He handed it to Wodan to do the same, passing it back and forth a few times till they began to get pretty sloshed. This was when a new face joined the balcony, congratulating him. Altair blinked a few times before squinting, “Dude are we related?” He asked Drane (@Die Shize ), “You look like a prettier version of me, my man,” Altair cracked a grin before grabbing a third glass to pour the Firrerrian whiskey to get him drunk as well.

After a moment, Altair threw an arm around Wodan’s shoulder, hiccuping as he began to sing. It was a patriotic song from Firrerre. It was often sung in protest of oppression by brave men rallying to push back against a greater power. It was soldiers' anthem. The tiefling sang it at the top of his lungs, slurring through it but still on key with his melodic voice. Before long, he threw his other arm around Drane’s shoulder. Within moments, all three men would be drunkenly swaying side to side with hopefully at least two of them actually singing. As the song picked up pace, Altair hooked his arm through Wodan's and began to hop in a circle while waving around the dog tags of his beloved soldiers that fell in combat. All while singing loudly into the night.

 

[Jasnah Atreides]

As Varyn continued being unresponsive, Jasnah tried to prop the man up and brought his torso up to an upright position, only for his head to just plop onto her and possibly whack his nose against her shoulder.

"I'm an idiot," she replied to the new arrival's question about Varyn's state without really thinking about what he had actually asked, "that's why." She was a little tired of this shit now, specially given how much seemed to be going on. Grabbing his head by his hair, she pulled him away from her, and got another look at his face, inspecting if anything was broken, and if she had to worry about him getting blood on her clothes. And all because this fool got himself poisoned, and his fool of a date was more focused on getting herself off by beating on someone instead of looking after him.

"Alright," she said with a hint of irritation in her voice, "time to wake up." With the medics seemingly busy cleaning up Draugr, of course the Masters get preferential treatment, and no Jedi at hand to deal with this, Jasnah just had to handle the situation on her own. So she did the best she could.

She slapped him, the loud smack ringing through the chamber over the din of the classical music playing in the background. That seemed to catch the attention of some of the medics, and one finally came running over. "We can take it from here ma'am." About to administer another slap, Jasnah stopped and nodded at the medic and let go of Vayn's hair, letting the medic take over. After a quick scan, the medic would attempt to stab him in the arm with something that would hopefully counteract the paralyzing agent enough to allow him to regain some motor control.

Jasnah got to her feet, taking note of Vahliri and Anai fighting the idiot server, Draugr getting patched up, Caerllion still acting the fool, and the little elf girl from earlier getting comfortable with who she was sure was the Rasheer woman. How hopeful she had been at the begining of the night, and how convinced she was by this point that half the people at the celebration were complete fools. Made her wonder, how in all this mess did the crazy, possibly psychotic, Kel-dor come out looking like the sane one?

She needed a drink.

@Mr. Teatime @Phoenix @Nevermourn

 

[Celeste Stythani]

As her full concentration was still on raging the fire, she didn't even realize that Altair had left the room with Wodan in tow and the fight between Vahliri and the Zabrak was still ongoing in the background. Still, all partygoers were uncannily unbothered by the most peculiar, unwanted curtain-fire that shed parts of the room in a brighter light.

Her face was involuntarily illuminated and the flames danced in front of her, however even if they were slowly growing smaller, she was still hoping no one familiar would notice her presence, especially not in this attire. Then, however, she slightly jumped as a deep, monotonous voice adressed her.

She turned her head and glanced up an unfamiliar, tall Kel'Dor (@Nevermourn). Good. No one she recognized, and apparently he was also not recognizing her, which was definitely good for now. If it were for her, she would have just continued serving drinks in the far back of the room, but for now, the flames still required her attention and so a bit of help to fasten the process wasn't bad at all. "Yeah...sure" she replied, still a bit caught off guard but flashing him a quick smile before she directed her attention back onto the fiery curtain.

She had already pushed the flames back quite a bit, but with the stranger's help they had soon completed snuffed out the flames. "I found it slightly amusing, that with everything that was going on, no one paid attention to the fire...but well, it's gone now. So thanks" she smiled again, quickly inclining her head because she knew she had to return to her...well degrading duties and hush away before anyone else was reacting, so the Champion would notice that sshewas about to leave if he wouldn't continue the conversation.