Brotherhood Space Arx Minor Eos City The Flitz Hotel
The premier hotel hosted a variety of customers. Members of all the Brotherhood Societies, the Iron Forces, the Severian Principate and more could be found milling around the halls. Within the building was a VIP Lounge, an area that had been rented out for the next several days. The occasion? A convention. Warriors and Assassins, Bounty Hunters and Sellswords, any occupation that dealt in death was welcome. An opportunity for the members of the Brotherhood to pick up new tips and tricks, and boast of their own prowess in the art of elimination.
The VIP Lounge had been prepared for the event. A long dining table capable of seating dozens was covered in a spread of food from many cultures and climates. Several butler droids were on site willing to assist the guests with whatever they desired. Numerous smaller tables occupied various areas to allow for smaller meetings. Weapons and equipment were permitted, with the rule that absolutely no combat was to occur between hotel residents. But equipment demonstrations and sales? That would be allowed.
Hector Von Ricmore lounged at the massive table while he awaited the coming residents. His regular armor had been eschewed for a comfortable silk shirt and pants, with a gundark leather jacket. He idly sipped from a glass of white wine imported from Naboo and watched the door in curiosity. He could not wait to find out who had accepted his broad invitation.
Any invitation from Hector Von Ricmore was bound to be exotic and intriguing. After her recent visit to the Flitz it wouldn’t have made much sense to skip this event. That did not mean that Aphotis trusted the occasion—the gathering dealt with death after all, something the tall Sith was intimately familiar with. It meant that she would be on her guard, even if the rules on the advert said there were to be no combat.
She wore her familiar dome-visored mask and was further equipped with a lightsaber and bladed heels—a much more humble load-out than she ran with in the past. Her true weapon was her mind, something even the Force often had trouble keeping up with. The Mistress of Terrors possessed a creative capability that was specialised in fear and Sith Alchemy. Blessings and curses were something she could bestow upon others by means of deals or credits, but she often wished for more knowledge in return, or favors…
Aphotis let herself be guided by one of the butler droids, until she reached the long dining table. She placed her backpack—filled with trinkets and gemstones—and oxygen tanks next to her chair, before sitting down.
“Greetings once more, Ricmore.”
“Aphotis. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
There was no deceit or lie in the greeting. Hector had worked besides Aphotis a few times now and each one had been interesting. He had learned much of the esoteric lightsaber whip and witnessed a respectable combat ability during the defense of Arx. He did not know her well enough to say what she would want in return for attending this event, but he looked forward to seeing what knowledge she would be willing to impart.
“Please, make youself comfortable. There are plenty of seats and the butler droids are willing to see to whatever desires you may have.”
Having a creative mind meant that you always had something to offer, all it required was a problem that needed solving—the possibilities were endless. Meetings such as these were less about the gadgets and spells that were on offer and much more about the inspiration Aphotis could gather from them.
“I will skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point,” the Sith’s voice was cold and modulated by the mask, “what convinced you to organise an event such as this one, Ricmore?” She shooed away one of the butler droids and placed her fingers together with her palms apart into a high steeple over the table.
“Very well, I’ll get to the purpose of the meeting. I’m sure you have noticed the threats to the Brotherhood in recent times. It seems that our enemies are multiplying with each passing year.
I have sought answers in the Force, seeking visions of the future. What I have seen various wildly, with a common theme. Tumultuous times lay ahead for us all. I hoped for an opportunity for the clans to come together and share knowledge, to form a foundation for future cooperation against these mutual threats. We all have our own methods for eliminating our foes, trading this knowledge could be beneficial in working to prevent future catastrophe.”
The raising of Aphotis’s brow was barely noticeable behind the reflective visor, she had not noticed an increase in threats—potentially because she was a threat herself. An arms race was exactly what she intended there to be. Tumult meant chaos, chaos meant strife and with that strife came growth. All that fear was potential fuel—if faced head on and not cowered away from.
Clans coming together was not something the tall Sith had envisioned, however, they were already far too stagnant and political. They always used common enemies as an excuse to avoid conflict.
The Mistress’s tail almost whipped a butler droid as it flicked with increasing menace, unable to be held back by the chair’s backrest.
“Oh Hector, you and I both know that an occasional clash between Clans is healthy, some of them are becoming quite slothful,” her voice was melodic and mischievous, “however, I concur that an equal exchange in accoutrements would never be amiss.”
Aphotis had a point. Many of the clans were quite different, and some had decades of bad blood between them.
“I confess that I may be optimistic at the chances of the Clans building any long term alliance. Either way, our home systems have had their own challenges to overcome; something which often translates into different ways to solve problems, often violently given the membership of the Brotherhood. You yourself have shown to be quite capable in that regard and I am always eager to learn. I am sure that I can find a way to pay whatever it is that you are looking for in return.”
A convention of those who most would prefer to avoid. A gathering centered around topics that many wished to never personally deal with. A meeting of minds that the majority would see as a bane on society.
When one was hunting more controversial information, what better place to look? And having been invited by an ally and clan-mate, no good reason to say no to that.
Azler entered into the lounge, holding the door open as he stepped forth an extra second as if debating something before releasing it and allowing it to close behind him until someone else entered. His black and white normal garb were donned underneath the cloak that draped over him, no weapons were to be seen on his person. The Krath symbol brazen displayed upon it in clear view he hoped would act as a lure, though only time would tell.
As silver-blue eyes glanced over the near-empty room around him, they fairly quickly settled onto the hybrid Kiffar and his current guest. For the moment, as to not interrupt nor be rude, the hybrid Echani merely raises a hand in silent greeting before moving towards the food being offered and perusing the selection idly.
“I am most curious what you and the others will bring to the table, Hector, and once I see them displayed it will be much easier to compliment them with my own methods,” the tall Sith sounded cordial, keeping any hint of treachery out.
Electric blue eyes followed the movement of a new arrival from behind the dome-shaped visor. The symbol this argent figure carried told her little—Krath were splinters of the same order as far as she knew, so she considered them Sith and that was all she really cared about.
Her mask made a drawn out hiss as the hybrid raised their hand.
“My offering is simple but quite valuable in the times we find ourselves in. We live in a galaxy where Beskar, a once rare and valuable material, appears to become more common with each year. Factions of Mandalorians and pretenders keep crawling out from who knows where.”
“You see Aphotis, I am offering to teach how to kill Mandalorians. I have no doubt that someone of your skill would manage the feat, but I believe that I am something of an expert on the subject. I’ve lived amongst them and spent the past few months killing rivals who wear the armor. A killer can overcome Beskar if they know how to.”
Just how many Mandalorians had she fought by now? Almost too many to count. Yet they were formidable enemies and almost always in the way. Having a more efficient method of disposing them would not be amiss. She tilted her head to the side and flicked her tail as a slow smile formed in her eyes.
Aphotis leaned down with her claw and rummage through her backpack. When she rose up she was holding a black globe.
“This is a harvester of sorrow. It will siphon despair like a sponge wherever you place it. Save up enough of it and…” the Sith mimicked an explosion with her free hand, “…you can twist and it will function like a thought bomb.”
“Of course you could just as well use it as a dream catcher, just be sure to let the energy out every now and again,” her modulated voice was laced with a mischievous tone.
A thought bomb. The term was familiar, tickling the edge of memory. Something destructive for sure. But Hector could not recall the details. He would have to ask to know more.
It wasn’t rude to overhear a private conversation one was invited to, right? The Priest keeps his gaze on the food, mentally trying to remember what anything was called.
The hiss aimed his way didn’t get much out of him aside from an instinctive tilt of his head, its mechanical nature causing a brief inquiry to if it was intentional or merely entertaining timing. His eyes do dart for a moment as Hector’s words echo within the man’s ear, metallic blue questioning the reddened view they receive, but as the flow continues, he pulls the look back as understanding hits him.
However its at the mention of the ‘harvester’ that his attention is drawn fully, head turning in their direction.
“How did you manage to synchronize the object with a specific emotion?” Azler inquires before he can help himself. “Pardon the interjection,” he amends, catching himself. He did not know this individual at all, so better to be safe than sorry on button pushing.
“That is a good question,” the Sith woman twirled her index finger around the corrugated hose of her mask, “inside there is a shard of a soul, one that is quite empathic in fact, it hungers for all emotions, but only has a receptor for one, sorrow.”
“I will not go into the specifics of the binding or inhibition process, that is mine to keep, unless there is a substantial offer in return for the knowledge. Just mind you, this device is impotent around mundanes.”
Hector tapped the table 3 times, signaling a butler droid to march over.
“Droid, please bring the case I checked in at reception.”
“Affirmative.”
The droid exited the room as Hector turned back to his companions.
“I brought a few examples of items that can be used against Beskar. While we wait for the droid, I too would be interested in hearing more about this device. It sounds quite fascinating.”