Jon adjusted the tight collar on his Envoy uniform. It was clean and well-pressed, a far cry from his rough-spun combat attire, but it sold the image of a refined and well-bred retainer to a noble Jedi House. Appearances were everything in a situation like this.
“We are arriving shortly, Master,” PZ said. “Would you like to listen to some classical Vataali music while we descend? The Old Republic Sephi Composer Vartu Nickta is considered a cultural icon in this region of the planet.”
Jon sighed. The shiny protocol droid was fresh off the assembly line and had the personality of a brick of wood and was about as interesting. But if he’d brought Artemis then the glitchy astromech would start zapping the first stuffy nobleman that tried to order her to hold his drink.
“That won’t be necessary PZ. Just land us, nice and slow.”
Viewed from the air, Kaal really was a beautiful city. Well, that of it that was completed, anyway. A bizarre and eclectic mix of styles from a dozen different cultures that were somehow finding a sort of harmony amidst the harsh volcanic landscape. It reminded Jon of some spaceports he’d seen over the years. A few outskirt settlements were huddled in the shadow of the great towering crystals that had erupted from the landscape.
Home. A new home for House Hoth.
But they weren’t here for sightseeing or a home-warming party.
An hour later, Jon was in the Sephora district, outside one of the fancier restaurants. His fine-tailored clothes and shiny accomplice did wonders to blend into the fabulous architecture of the Vataali there.
The bar had a backroom, private and paid for, and he entered to find a few familiar faces waiting for him there.
There came the all too familiar glow of a silver spotlight shining bright overhead, followed by the enamored cheer of a crowd– Though tonight, that particular cheer was quelled to that of a series of respectful claps. It was a particular gesture well befitting that of the Sephi and the other upperclass citizens that made up her audience for tonight.
As the quartet began to shuffle onstage and set up their instruments, it afforded Syrena a brief amount of time to prepare herself for her upcoming performance with a series of deep breaths. Once, there was a time where moments like these were all that she could’ve dreamed of… A time where she wanted nothing more than to preform music, and flit between the various afterparties held by socialites. And for many years after Syrena’s sudden departure from Coruscant, that was just what she did, up until recently.
And yet despite that, she slid back into her old role with ease. Syrena made her way into the spotlight with a few graceful steps, flashing the crowd a dazzling, well practiced smile as she had so many times before. Her pale pink hair was carefully arranged in soft waves that cascaded over her shoulders, a long evening dress of only the finest black silk draped around her feminine form, with series of embroidered crystals shimmering under the light. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Syrena began to address the crowd, her tone one that was well rehearsed to hold a certain sense of eloquence. “It is both an honor and a delight to stand alongside such distinguished company this evening. In a galaxy that moves so fast, it is a rare privilege to pause– To lose ourselves to the splendor of music. And without further ado, let us begin…”
A murmur of anticipation rippled through the bar, and then silence, as the lights began to dim. With a nod towards the pianist, the first notes unfurled into the night, a gentle melody of jazz befitting the refined tastes of the patrons there. Syrena’s voice was warm and honeyed, weaving effortlessly through the gentle sway of the upright bass, flowing smoothly to carry the melody.
She lingered on the last note of the song, letting it melt alongside the quartet, as their performance came to an end. A moment of silence– then, applause. It was a familiar sound, yet one she had not had the opportunity to hear for what felt like months given her indefinite pause from preforming. Syrena took the elegant form of a bow alongside the other musicians with one last smile towards the audience, before retreating from the spotlight.
And through it all, she hadn’t forgotten to carefully scan the faces of those present, observing them from afar, should such knowledge prove useful later on. Syrena made her way backstage– Or rather, to the backroom of the bar, with a glass of wine now held in one hand. “Greetings, everyone, what a pleasure it is to see you all again…”
A small droid rolled in behind her, its form shimmering with polished silver and another glass of wine carefully balanced on its head. Syrena picked up the glass and extended it towards Jon, offering it to him. “It’s a Pamarthe red, with the infusion of several grapes from the arboretum here, and what everyone here in the Sephora District seems to be drinking these days.”
Frenek shuffled along, clutching his temporary handbasket like a lifeline. He wasn’t going to actually use it, of course. He was in this cosmetic store within the Sephora district to buy one thing—and one thing only. The basket was, however, a handy prop to fidget with whenever he needed to avoid the dubious looks of the Sephi employees that patrolled the aisles. At one point, he’d nearly launched himself into a full-blown barrel-roll when he inadvertently wandered into the Hutt-branded lipstick section, and an employee tapped his shoulder to ask if he needed any assistance.
Pull yourself together, Frenek, he thought to himself, trudging into yet another aisle fraught with highly-stylized aurebesh lettering. You are a trained navigator. Yet you can’t even find your way through a civilian shop. Perhaps there was a sorting system. Manufacturer’s last name? Area of application?
At last, he threw in the towel, cautiously approaching one of the employees—a female Sephi with heavily drawn makeup.
“Greetings, sir!” the Sephi chimed, “I saw you may have been having some trouble finding what you’re looking for.”
Frenek frowned, clutching his handbasket closer to him. “Um—erm, what told you that??” he sputtered.
“Oh! I meant no offense sir,” the Sephi replied, “it’s just, typically when a customer spends fourty-five minutes with their handbasket still empty, it’s our policy to offer assistance… that was twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been trying to get your attention ever since.”
“Right…” Frenek said, wishing he could just get this over with. After all, he had come to Kaal to close down a bar—not a cosmetic shop.
“I’mlookingforaperfume,” Frenek blurted out without thinking.
“A… what now?—ah! A perfume. Here is the most popular one. It’s made with roses plucked from Naboo,” the Sephi said, turning ninety degrees and grabbing a thin glass vial from a shelf below the sales register and handing it to Frenek. “Here you are, sir. Will that be all?”
Frenek stood for a moment, mouth ajar. That simple, huh? Then, snapping back to reality, he managed to plunk down the required credits onto the counter, turn away, and set out before the employee could even ask if he wanted to join the rewards program.
A few minutes later, Frenek had traversed the streets and arrived at the venue at which his beloved Syrena would be performing. As he walked through the doors, he pulled the vial back out of his pocket, smiling to himself. Yes, she would love this, or so he hoped.
The sweet sounds of smooth jazz wafted through the entryway of the bar. He found a table in time to hear the entirety of her last song.
As the final note faded, he started to clap frantically, as had become his habit—then stopped with two hands in midair when he realized that he was among more… refined clientele.
As the band disappeared behind the stage, Frenek downed the rest of his glass and rose to follow them.
“Hey y’all!” Frenek exclaimed, emerging into the room with the other House Hoth members. “This place is real fancy, ain’t it? Have you had a chance to meet any of the delegates from the union of shipwrights? Some real pieces of work, but they mean well.”
As more began to make their way in, Syrena sat down at the polished wooden table. With a glass of red wine held in one hand, she gazed at those present, before beginning to address the room in a smooth tone of voice.
“All may not be as it seems with the recent election…” Syrena stated, pausing to take a sip of wine.
“Or at least, that is what Tisto believes. After looking through the current statistics, his suspicions have proved correct.”
Syrena began to reflect on what she had learned so far… Or rather, what searching through hours of data files pertaining to the election results had been able to produce. Yet as the newly appointed Aedile to House Hoth, she was fully aware that sorting Tisto’s seemingly endless stacks of paperwork was part of the job.
“There are a few things I was able to uncover, after further research… There are several rumors that a cult may behind this. Rumors that are very likely to be true, given the current predicament…” She continued, swirling the wine in her glass carefully before taking another sip.
“Ah, Frenek… Pleased you could join us,” Syrena greeted. “And now that you mention the Union of Shipwrights, that brings me to the next piece of information… There are three factions that may be responsible for meddling in our election. And unfortunately, the Union of Shipwrights is one of the ones on the suspect list… Along with the Shipwrights Guild, and another faction known as the Firstlight.”
Syrena looked up at the House Hoth members, before offering one final statement. “And so, that brings us to this… Which of those factions is the cult a part of? Now is the time for us to begin interrogating them… Oops, I mean interviewing them, to unmask the cult.”
A figure dressed in dark clothes moves in and around the gathered guests. Stopping from time to time to scan the crowd and listen in on a conversation or two. As his old student Tisto was running the show, it was up to Edgar to do what he did best and blend into the crowd to see if any unwanted guests came to the meeting. Edgar has long disliked the Monarchy, and this recent election was cause for more concern. Pirates and now a potential cult are working against the crown and the clan. The grey Jedi has seen what happens to a world when a fanatic takes over, and as much as he thought the elites of the systems might deserve it, he really didn’t want the common people to suffer. On his walk, he passed a Human male and a female Selphie. Their whispers were just a little too low to be heard over the song that was playing, but Ed did get a glimpse of a small blaster in the man’s jacket. Not wanting to expose his presence just yet, he made his way backstage just as the band was coming of,f and just before he got Frenek’s attention Syreana called him back out to the stage.
“Well, I guess I’ll do this the old-fashioned way”, Edgar said with a sigh and opened a comlink. “Hey Jon, There is a couple standing over by the bar, keep an eye on them, the gentleman is armed and I don’t recognize them at all. I’ll be back out in a minute just in case they are here to cause trouble”.
<@230809550297497600>
Miho walked through the streets, the green coat she wore moving in the wind of her own momentum. The black hat was pulled down the cover violet eyes and the black scarf was pulled up over her mouth in an attempt to keep the cold weather at bay.
Why was she here? Because someone had asked her to be. Who had asked her to be here? A dead one if she could ever remember the name. The cold had enough strength to bite and the city was almost unimaginatively ugly. Drab, squat buildings interspersed with drab big buildings. Did they know colors other than gray existed in this part of the town?
The small droid that clung to the back of her coat whistled disapprovingly. Clearly it didn’t want to be here any longer than they had to either.
“One more place, Pips. If they aren’t there, we’ll see about finding a nice hot room somewhere to warm up.” She said, her tone not expecting to find anyone even remotely connected to whoever it had been that asked her to come.
Tisto relaxed in perhaps his least favorite spot in the town. The grays of this section were truly awful, but they allowed Tisto’s light yellow jacket to stand out clearly as he relaxed on the governors speeder. He drew some stares from citizens unused to his attire, as the open jacket and lack of shirt stood out in the cold of Kaal.
He held a data pad in one hand, seeming to flip across it randomly as different news reports flashed by. He didn’t even glance over at Miho as he offered up a wave, instead keeping his focus on skimming through the news.
Oddly enough, the governor seemed to be bored as he laid there.
“Ah Syrena you certainly aren’t tearing apart the city like you did the party. Kind of a shame,” he mumbled.
As Syrena finished up her mission briefing, Frenek nodded slowly. “Well,” he said slowly, “fellow union workers or not, I’ll be darned if I’m gonna let some dadgum cult interfere with a free election.” He finished a swig of wine and placed his glass down on a table with a clink. “Although I sure hope it isn’t the shipwrights.”
With that, Frenek exited the room and went back to the main floor of the club. He had spied a prominent union worker there only minutes before—a short, gruff man by the name of Rudge Moxil. “Rudge!” Frenek called out, catching him mid-sip and causing a minor coughing fit. “How ya doing? Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a gesture toward the general atmosphere of the upperscale club room.
When Rudge had recovered, he grinned back at Frenek, standing up and saying, “A far cry from the dumps we used to deliver to, eh?”
Frenek laughed. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Listen, I have some friends backstage who have been dying to hear some of our old hauling stories. Whaddaya say I introduce to to them?”
And with that, Frenek ushered Rudge out of the main floor of the club and into the meeting room where the other Brotherhood members had congregated. On the way, he said, “Oh and by the way, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about a cult, now wouldja?”
Having relayed the information to the rest of the Team, the newly appointed Aedile made her way out of the back room. She turned to Frenek for a brief moment, just before leaving, discreetly whispering to him. “Though I don’t think the Union of Shipwrights of the three possibilities is the responsible culprit, one can never be too sure…. See what you can find out from them, if anything… And when all this is done, let’s meet up sometime for a drink.”
And with that, Syrena made her way back to the city streets. She slipped on a white leather jacket over the shimmering silk of her dress, along with a matching pair of gloves, and traded her stiletto heels for a pair of boots. There would only be so many people within a bar, and there were many more possibilities elsewhere within the vast city. As she made her way into a more open area, she caught a glimpse of Tisto, as well as Miho, with a droid trailing behind her. She paused for a moment, offering them both a wave.
Listening to Tisto, Syrena nodded with a soft laugh, heeding his words. “I’m workin’ on it, Governor… Speaking of which, I have someone I’d like you to meet…”
Gazing towards the skies, in a few soft notes, Syrena began to melodically whistle. And in response, there came a loud and yet all too familiar screech. A large reptavian creature descended from the clouds, it’s wingbeats blowing gusts of wind as it lowered itself to the ground before where they both stood, fanning Syrena’s cascade of light pink hair back over her shoulders.
“Veryth, meet Tisto. Tisto, meet Veryth,” Syrena began to say as she patted the creature’s side. The onyx-colored Keeradak stretched out her large bat-like wings that were hued with shades of dark purple, fixing a pair of glowing eyes onto where Tisto stood. “Anyways, I hope you are having a wonderful evening, Tisto… Well, I suppose it would be wonderful, if it weren’t for all this messy business with the election… Speaking of which…”
Turning her attention to her Keeradak, Syrena removed glass vial that contained a scrap of cloth with an emblem on it belonging to the cult. It had been one of the main tools so far for aiding in her research. She carefully uncapped the vial and held the cloth up to Veryth. The large creature’s eyes narrowed predatorily, nostrils flaring as the Keeradak took a deep inhale to analyze the scents of the cloth.
“Veryth, lead us to this. We have a cult to hunt,” Syrena quietly spoke to the creature, as a gentle command. The Keeradak fanned out her wings in response and gave the lash of her tail, beginning the prowl.
“Would either of you care to hitch a ride?” Syrena called over her shoulder to both Tisto and Miho, already beginning to sprint after the Keeradak as it stalked through the city streets in pursuit of the scent.
<@224587844432166912> <@227653769842655233>