Session export: [CSP Monthly RP] Post Award Ceremony Desk Fire

The familiar hum of a sleek imperial shuttle cut through the forest canopy, descending effortlessly into the landing area. The landing gear hissed as it settled into the dirt and the ramp lowered with a thud.

Empress Rayne strolled down looking entirely unfazed by the grand formalities of her title for a change. Instead of regalia, she also wore more comfortable attire and boots built for forest of Kaynya though she still carried the undeniable aura of her station.

Rayne eyed the towering pile of wood and vandalized furniture with immediate approval as she approached the pit. There were plenty of rewards from the Strategic Transfer of Equipment to Alternate Location. Her gaze lingered on the nameplate of the ruined desk and she let out a laugh.

“Ah yes, the many desks of Kamjin. Outstanding. You really outdid yourself this time Vincent,” the Firrerreo woman said coming into view. She wandered over to a cooler. A nervous servant fumbled out of the way as Rayne reached down and grabbed a cold can of Xenergy. The night, in fact, had just begun.

She popped the tab. The crisp hiss echoing in the night and she raised the can in a friendly toast toward Vincent and Jaz.

Tonight she could relax, and something could be set on fire.

A ship lumbered overhead and disappeared into the treeline.

Normally, for any formal or military event, the shrieking of the Night Wraith would announce the arrival of House Acclivis Draco’s Quaestor. However, Sanguis approached the clearing in a far more humble manner normally reserved for private outings as he reached the edge upon his Guarlara stallion, Naktis. A birthday gift from his wife, the Nagai appreciated any chance he had for a ride upon the ebony equine.

*“Take the shuttle, take Naktis, and go camping for a night or two before the bonfire. It’ll be good for you to spend some time alone meditating away from work and the kids.”

“You don’t wish to come?”

“Not this time. I promised a few days of hiking in the mountains with the boys as part of their survival training. Go try and enjoy yourself.”

In short, no more spotlight for the assassin. Just him.

A soft sigh escaped him, followed by a soft and amused smile forming on his lips. After all, his wife’s suggestion did bear fruit. The few nights to himself had been beneficial, allowing him to clear his mind from the noise of life and duty before making tonight’s appearance.

Patting Naktis’ broad neck, Sanguis dismounted, and tied off the stallion to a low branch. He stroked the beast’s mane, gracing the equine’s ears with Nagaian compliments before finally stepping into the dimming rays of twilight. The orange light illuminated his tattooed, pale torso; the black sash the only shielding from the pesky luminance alongside his kilt, wrappings, and boots.

The Marauder offered a curt nod to Rayne and Vincent, his amber gaze meeting theirs as he recognized his superiors as expected before finding a spot against a tree to lean against. This wasn’t like the old days where he enjoyed glaring and frightening young acolytes and potential rivals, nor did he had his wife to keep him company. It was a night of cordiality and presence, and perhaps a drink or two of ale if any was provided.

The cordiality was soon broken by the gutteral roar of a repulsor drive and splintering trees as something big drove its way towards the clearing. A shape came into view, manifesting as an AAT. Its barrel broke the treeline and juddered.

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!”

The repulsor drive roared louder as the barrel withdrew slightly then pushed forward at an even wonkier angle.

“REALLY?!”

The pilot threw even more power into the repulsor drive and the tank crawled forward climbing the obstable millimeters at a time, tipping higher as it pushed onward.

“Yes…yeeeees…wait, nononononono!”

The tank slid sideways as its jets angled away from level, their drive unit sputtering from overload.

A defeated groan came from the turret.

Kole rotated the throttle assembly of his swoop bike and almost laughed to himself as he weaved back and forth between the trees. The speed and thrill of the travel was almost relaxing compared to the war he had just been apart of. From piloting a Defender to assaulting a shipyard, the war had taken its toll on him. It was nice to have a break.

As the clearing came into view, he slowed the swoop bike down and came to a stop across from what appeared to be a stuck tank. “What the hell is going on here?” He mumbled to himself as he dismounted. The pilot adjusted his leather flight jacket and his belt, his pair of sapphire blades sheathed on his left. Just under the jacket around his neck was a strange amulet type object. To the keen eye they would be able to see it as an astrolabe but one very few would have seen before.

He moved towards the group, opened a cooler to grab an ale then stopped in his tracks. The Empress was here. He looked around and took note of who all had arrived, all the Sith and leadership of the Clan. He had only ever met the Quaestor Sanguis before but even that had only been for a short mission.

What have I gotten myself into. he thought to himself

Kole shook his head and took a sip of his ale. He stepped up to the PCON and lowered his head slightly. “It’s Kole, Lord Brujah.” He bowed slightly again. “Empress. A pleasure to be able to make your acquaintance.”

He nervously sipped at his ale. Force users always made him feel awkward. Even though he had been the confidant and personal pilot to Sykes Jade, who tended to be more cruel than most, he still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had.

Emerging from the tree line from beside the dislodged AAT, Ellac dragged a set of metal claws along its hull, sending a shrill shriek through the clearing.

“Really, Titius?”

It had been quite some time since Ellac had seen his former apprentice- At least as long ago as the incident on Kalsunor- but not nearly long enough for the Merc to do something as brazen as plowing through the forest with a tank shortly after being reinstated to the Clan.

“Compensating?”

The sound of an approaching shuttle carried through the trees as it came down toward the clearing Vincent had set up for the evening. The landing gear touched down and the engines began to power off before the ramp lowered.

Morvyn stepped out wearing his usual dark robes. It was his first real appearance in front of the Clan since taking over as Quaestor of House Caliburnus, but he had no intention of making a big deal out of it.

As he made his way down the ramp, his eyes moved across the gathering and the familiar faces already there. That was when he noticed the AAT sitting awkwardly among the trees.

Morvyn stared at it for a few seconds before running his prosthetic hand down his face. He let out a quiet sigh, shook his head, and kept walking. Whatever had happened there was probably better left alone.

He gave Rayne a respectful nod as he passed, followed by Vincent and Sanguis, before his attention shifted toward the fire pit. Several desks had been thrown in with the logs, most of them damaged enough that it was hard to tell where they had come from. One of them looked familiar and drew his attention.

Morvyn slowed as he got closer, looking over the frame and the worn edges of the desk. He could not immediately place it, but there was something about it that bothered him enough to take another look.

He crouched beside it and reached underneath, running the metallic fingers of his prosthetic hand along the bottom of the desk. After a moment, his fingers caught on a few shallow grooves carved into the wood.

A small carving was still there, tucked away underneath where he had made it years ago as Kamjin’s apprentice. The lines were rough and uneven, something he had carved mostly because he thought it was funny at the time and assumed Kamjin would never notice it. Morvyn rubbed his thumb across the old marks and gave the faintest smirk as the memory came back to him.

There was no doubt anymore. The desk had belonged to Kamjin.

Morvyn stayed there for another moment before standing and looking it over again. Somehow the damn thing had survived his apprenticeship, everything that had happened since, and however many offices Kamjin had gone through before finally ending up in Vincent’s pile of firewood.

He could probably ask how Vincent had gotten his hands on it, but Morvyn was not entirely sure he wanted the answer.

Instead, he walked over to one of the coolers and grabbed an ale before returning to the fire. Morvyn took a seat on one of the nearby stumps, opened the bottle, and took a drink as he settled in with the others.

Every so often, his eyes wandered back toward the old desk sitting among the logs.

Inside the AAT Titius pushed on the top turret hatch to exit his failed attempt at a grand entrance.

The hatch swung up and stopped dead barely 10 cm up. Lowering and raising repeated rang out a thud as the normally upward hatch lid smacked sideways against a tree trunk.

The mercenary pursed his lip and slowly lowered the lid again, turning crimson. Contorting himself through the belly of the tank, he found the rear access and punched the release.

…nothing happened. Apparently the hydraulics for the access hatches were fed by the same drive as the repulsor jets.

“Which fried when I put the tank sideways.” Titius sighed heavily. “I guess I need to get creative.”

After Vincent’s attention had shifted elsewhere, Sanguis found himself tempted and left his spot to obtain ale for himself. The Nagai reached into a cooler, retrieved the beverage, popped it open, and took a swig. A satisfied grin crossed his lips, the tips of his fangs glinting in the fading light.

The crashing AAT did little to grab his attention, the Quaestor already used to unannounced chaos thanks to his oldest stepson’s antics. However, he did offer a nod to Kole before taking another swig of ale. The Nagai held the pilot in high regard since their last engagement, and he was more than ready to call upon the man once more should the chance arise.

Upon Morvyn’s arrival, he greeted the newly named Quaestor of Caliburnus in silence, a hint of respect within his golden gaze for Togruta’s promotion. Both he and Shadow had been slightly disappointed to see Rasilvenaira’s resignation come so soon, but neither had they been surprised when Rasilvenaira later expressed that she was ready to return to retirement.

Returning to his spot, Sanguis’ eyes drifted to the Empress as he finally spoke. “Ro-… er…Shadow sends her regards and apologizes for her absence. She promises to make it up to you in the near future.”

<@169597761379893249>

Rayne chuckled, the sound easily carrying over the ambient noise of the forest as she watched Vincent rap his knuckles against the stalled armor of the AAT. The hollow metallic clanking felt comically out of place in the middle of the Kaynya trees.

Before joining the heckling, she turned to Sanguis, offering a warm smile. “Tell Shadow not to worry. I’ll hold her to that promise though.”

As they spoke, she caught the eye of the pilot standing nearby. Kole still looked rigid, as if he were bracing for a lightsaber to ignite at any second. Rayne took a drink of Xenergy she had in her hand.

“Relax Kole,” she teased, flashing him a playful wink meant to shatter the awkward tension radiating from him. “We don’t bite unless you give us a reason to.”

Her gaze shifted toward Morvyn. She offered the Togruta a respectful nod, acknowledging the newly appointed Quaestor’s presence and rank without demanding he stand on formal ceremony.

The Empress finally sauntered her way over to the stranded assault tank where Vincent and Ellac were.

“Careful Brujah,” she called out, her voice dripping with dry humor. “If you cut a hole in it, we might actually have to deal with him. I say we leave him in there and use the tank as a giant rotisserie.”

The tank let out a dull thump as the turret hatch flapped. Black smoke rose lazily from the seams.

A tirade of foul language followed the smoke out.

The tank appeared unharmed otherwise.

The hatch cracked open again to allow a large disk to slide out. The object clanked down the sloped surface of the turret and divotted the dirt with a solid thud.

“That should work” came the tinny response from within the tank.

The smoke grew in volume, slowly changing to grey as a crackling hiss started up.

Morvyn sat quietly with his ale while the attention around the clearing drifted toward the stuck AAT. His eyes wandered back to the old desk among the logs before he finally stood and grabbed one of the wooden benches nearby. Without much warning, he carried it over and threw it onto the waiting pile.

“Enough reminiscing. Let’s burn some shit.”

Morvyn grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor and tossed it in after the bench. The alcohol caught quickly, sending the flames roaring higher across the wood and desks before settling into a bright, hot bonfire. Morvyn took a few steps back and watched the fire spread across the pile. If he had hair it might have been singed.

“Who’s next? We have a whole pile of shit waiting to get burned.” He said as he turned back toward the group.

Rayne’s aqua eyes widened at the unmistakable beep of the disk. Catching Vincent’s highly amused grin, she just shook her head.

“You’re a menace, Brujah,” she chuckled as she pushed off the tank’s hull from where she was leaning and began to walk toward the bonfire’s inviting warmth and glow.

She finished her energy can and literally crushed it as she approached Morvyn and the rest of them. “I like your style, Quaestor. Straight to the point.”

Morvyn glanced toward the bench as the flames started working their way across it. He took another drink from his ale and a small smirk crossed his face as he looked back toward Rayne.

“My master’s things aren’t going to burn themselves.”

Sanguis watched with slight amusement from his spot, satisfied to see the Justicar’s desks go up in flames. He took a sip of his ale before walking over to check on Naktis. The Guarlara swung his head from side to side, the usually steadfast stallion slightly alarmed by the flames.

“Easy, boy. Just a little fire,” he said in Nagaian, his hand stroking the equine’s neck. “Shhh. You are safe.”

The Quaestor’s soothing, hypnotic voice worked its magic, easing Naktis until the beast was still again. He nuzzled Sanguis’ shoulder seemingly in gratitude, and returned to nibbling the grass when he was sure there was no real threat. Still, his gaze flickered to the pyre, ensuring the fiery predator stayed bound to its nest of desks.

Assured that Naktis was at peace, Sanguis returned to his spot, his gaze landing on the growing inferno once more. Then, feeling a rare and random urge to join in the camaraderie, he threw his ale into the blaze. Sparks flew as the alcohol lit up, the flash reflecting in the Nagai’s eyes. He allowed himself a small smirk, the Marauder unable to deny his fascination with the dancing flames as they grew in both size and luminous power.

Shrieking metal screamed as the back hatch on the tank fell to the ground. From the cloud that spilled out from the hole stepped soot covered Titius with sparking wire in each hand.

“I had intended for that to be your firestarter but I see you have it handled.”

The tank gouted flame from every crevasse as the disk Brujah had returned to sender went off. The wave of heat blew the bonfire sideways for a moment. Tossing the wires aside, Titius strode into the ring. His helmet tilted as he observed the others gathered though it was hard to discern if it was a nod of respect or sizing up the assembly.

Rayne squinted as the muffled metallic THOOM shook the clearing from Titius’ exploding tank washed over the clearing. She let out a loud appreciative whistle.

“Now that is an entrance!” she called out to the soot-covered newcomer.

She stepped closer to the simmering pit of shattered desks and logs, raising her hands toward the growing inferno. She began to swirl the flames steadily and gently. The untamed nature of the fire immediately yielded to her command, catching the circular rhythm of her movements as she effortlessly brought the orange blaze under her control.

With a sharp upward flick of her wrists, the fire surged upward into the night sky and twisted into a small fire cyclone. The warmth of the heat remained, but the colors rapidly shifted. It began bleeding from natural crimson and gold into an ethereal emerald green. The vibrant eerie light cast wild dancing shadows across the tree line.

“What else do we have to throw in?” Rayne flashed a wicked smirk, completely in her element and ready for the next round of chaos.

Titius silently pointed a soot encrusted finger at Ellac. “He volunteers”

Amongst the den of the lingering fireball and bonfire frivolities and figure emerged from the tree line with his R2 unit. The fire danced over the white body while the green accents looked almost like blooded shadows.

The droid let loose a series of beeps and toots.

“Yes, Brutus, you were right. It does appear to be a celebration. No need to rub it in.”

Kamjin pushed a bough out of the way as they stepped into the circle. He breathed in the fragrant air of the burning wood and smiled. He immediately felt at ease and knew what was going on. A quick look around him told him it was another Scholae Palatinae celebration. He hadn’t expected one so close to his new resort home and was still grateful that it wasn’t something sinister, like the ordeal he’d just been through.

“Who’s handing out drinks?

Morvyn watched as Rayne pulled the flames upward, twisting them through the air as the fire shifted to an eerie green. His brow raised slightly and a small smirk crossed his face before his attention turned toward the voice coming from the treeline.

When Kamjin stepped into the clearing asking about drinks, Morvyn reached out with the Force. A bottle of ale lifted from one of the nearby coolers and shot into his hand. He caught it and then immediately tossed it toward the man.

“About time you showed up.”

Sanguis immediately took note of Kamjin’s arrival, only offering a glare when their eyes perchance met briefly. His mouth watered a bit, the thirst rising to the surface encouraged by silent, murderous intent. However, this was neither the time nor place, and the Elder quickly and coolly grabbed his flask of bloodwine to sate his craving.

After a few sips, the Nagai replaced his flask with another ale and returned to silently enjoying the now-green pyre. Sanguis had a hate-love relationship with sorcery considering his unnatural bloodlust was a product of both it and alchemy. It had twisted his very being, altering him into a beast whenever he surrendered to the thirst. Yet here before him was sorcery in a more beautiful and alluring, albeit still powerful, form.

Nightsister magic was alien to the Marauder, having only witnessed Sith sorcery in his past. His wife had spent time teaching him about the witches of Dathomir, even recounting a time she had ran into a remnant of them during her trials for knighthood. They had tried to kill her, yet despite the hostile encounter, she had come to have respect and admiration for them and their ways.

Sanguis took a sip of his ale, caught between the present celebration and reflection of the past and the concept of sorcery before allowing himself to withdraw from his thoughts. That was the danger of fire, the hypnotic, brilliant flames. Not only destructive, but also capable of drawing the mind like moths into a deep and pensive trap.

A chuckle broke the Quaestor’s stoic composure as he remembered Shadow’s observation: “Nature is the deadliest force with numerous ways to destroy a man emotionally, mentally, and physically. With it comes both life and destruction that is both beautiful and terrifying. Like the Nightsisters, we Sith would be wise to reflect on this. There is no better teacher.”

Finding himself tempted to thoughtfulness again, Sanguis took another swig and turned his attention to those around him. It was still a struggle to loosen up for social occasions like this, years of experience having taught him to keep his guard up. However, here, everyone was having a good time, and perhaps it was time he allowed himself chance to do so as well.

Kamjin went to twist off the top and fumbled for a moment. Glancing at the top he realized it was actually a quality ale with a pop top.

“Hold still Brutus.”

Kamjin angled the ale under one of Brutus’s panels and popped the top off. The droid squealed in protest.

“Knock it off. Its not like I wasn’t doing this when we were younger.”

Kamjin gulped the ale and savored the cool crispness against the heat of the bonfire. It felt good to be away from the Taurus and distractions of the legal web that was constantly vibrating.

“I didn’t get an invite.” Kamjin said as he clasped Morvyn on the shoulder. “You seem to be doing well for yourself.”

Kole stood back a bit. The tank, green flames of the Empresses power, the sheer abilities of the people around him seemed to cow his ego. Kole knew he was a pilot of exceptional skill, he was at the top of his game and knew it. The normally cocky man was truly flabbergasted by the sheer displays of power around him. The man was out of his element and he knew it.

”screw it” he thought to himself. He reached into a cooler and grabbed another beer. He twisted the top and tossed it into the flames. His hand touched the astrolabe around his neck. He could feel it was something that mattered, and his Lord had given it to him for a reason but he still had no clue what the item meant. It gave him comfort, something that he knew was important. The pilot didn’t quite know what or where his place was yet in the new area of the Clan, but he knew it was important

Kamjin breathed in the musky air. “Smells like Dathomirian Oak.”

Titius looked sidelong at Ellac. “It smells like unwanted filth, I should have brought some descaler.” he muttered.

Ellac ignored Titius’ taunts as he perused each drink cooler until he had found what he was looking for; Snatching the whole cooler of Xenergy drinks up, the young Sith hauled it over to a seat near the fire, plopping down with his prize as he propped his metal feet up on the chair in front of him.

“Watch your mouth, Titius; You’re talking to the reigning Slap Champion,” he said, parting his cloak to flash the engraved metal plating of his champion belt.

Titius brought his crimson visor to bear down on his master. “If I wanted to take you down a peg, I would use saltwater, tin can. I was refering to the cocksure sentient justice scales who decided they were welcome here.” Venom seemed to leech out of the respirator as it filtered smoke from the fire.

“He has a habit of showing up where he’s not wanted.” The can in Ellac’s hand hissed as he popped the tab. “You two have that in common.”

Kamjin heard the familiar voice. “Ah, my old friend Ellac. Come, take a seat.” He sat on a log and patted an adjacent one.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other on that platform.”

Tipping the can up, Ellac chugged the entire Xengery before looking over at Kamjin. A moment passed… Then another… He raised a metal finger in anticipation until all of the pressure had built up… And let out a belch directly at the Justicar.

Ellac nodded at Kamjin as he crushed the empty can, tossing it to the ground before reaching into the cooler for another one.

Kamjin sneered at the blech and made a note that Ellac would need another lessons in manners…soon.

“You should pick that up.”

Morvyn glanced toward Kamjin as the older Sith clasped a hand on his shoulder. A small smirk crossed his face as he looked back toward the fire.

“I’d say I’ve done pretty well.”

His attention shifted toward Ellac just as Kamjin told him to pick up the crushed can. Morvyn took another drink from his ale before looking over at him.

“You heard him. Pick it up.”

<@679032520699805708> <@503352868363960336>

Kole looked between the cyborg and the Justice and smirked. He drained his can of ale and tossed it into the growing flames before moving towards the cyborg. “You’re sitting on the booze cooler.”

For a while, Sanguis watched the exchanges among his clanmates and found himself amused and impressed by Ellac’s foolish boldness towards the Justicar. The Quaestor chuckled softly and shook his head. Normally, he’d immediately make an example of anyone with such audacity towards a superior, but this was an exception he could silently applaud despite how uncouth it was. Plus, Ellac was Morvyn’s problem as a member of Caliburnus, so the Nagai had no need to intervene. Yet.

Choosing to temporarily forgo socializing for the brewing storm of entertainment before him, he took a sip of his ale and watched to see how this exchange would turn out now that Kole had joined the group.

Raising a hairless brow up at the newcomer, Ellac slowly shifted off the cooler to a nearby seat. “Knock yourself out.”

Turning back to the Justicar and his Apprentice, Ellac reached out, drawing the crumpled can into his hand with the Force. “Evening, Morvyn; Looks like your mouth healed up nicely.” Leaning back in his seat, Ellac lightly tossed the can into the air before catching it again. “I’ve never eaten glass before, so I’m curious: What’s it taste like?”

“Probably a touch of metal and very smooth mouthfeel. Togruta are iron based blood if I remember correctly.” Titius’ eyes glazed over slightly as he spouted his macabre knowledge to noone in particular.

“That’s how I choose which blaster to buy. By mouthfeel.” Kole muttered as he opened up his next ale.

“Morvyn, I think a good test for you will be taking over for a while with dear Ellac’s training. He seems to have grown quite bold in my absence.”

Kamjin sipped his ale as Brutus let a series of whistles fly.

“Brutus, such language. Ellac will surely have a better time with Morvyn than with me.”

Sanguis huffed as he watched the exchange a bit longer. However, the rather nervous-looking Mandalorian caught his eye, and he approached the fidgeting man. “Something troubling you, good sir?” he asked, offering a soft smile. “You look like a restless varactyl hen.”