Vestaad Township Kaerls Kiast System
A crisp autumn breeze blows through the township’s center as the Okami clan gathers for the opening ceremony of the annual Festivus celebration. The moderate temperature, thanks to the geothermal valley where the Vestaad township was constructed, is a welcome respite from the unrelenting cold of the Kaerls tundra outside the valley. Stepping through the wooden palisade that encircles the township is like stepping back in time. Homes and lodges constructed out of wood, stone and other natural materials circle the township center with minimal concessions to necessary technology such as the defense systems on the pallisade. A coterie of Okami elders are positioned near the Festivus pole and fighting arena to adjudicate feats of strength and any airing of grievances that end up in the arena.
The Grand Hall stands at the far end of the town center opposite the main palisade gate. Directly in front of the Grand Hall entrance is a decorated Festivus pole and a wood-constructed octagon-shaped fighting ring. The streets of Vestaad Township bustle with Okami mandalorians and honored guests of the clan from the Vatali empire and Odan-Urr. A great feast is prepared inside the Grand Hall with bounty from the latest harvest and hunts served with ample amounts of mead. Representatives from the Empress have set up a modest bar with a complimentary selection of drinks and food ostentatiously as a gift to the Okami but really intended for those with more off-world tastes in attendance. Warriors from the Okami, Vatali Empire and Odanite forces mingle inside the Grand Hall, drinking and swapping battle stories among long wooden tables and the grand fireplace at the center of the hall.
It is a time of fellowship and renewal as bad blood from the previous year is put aside and resolved and those in attendance celebrate new beginnings for the coming year.
The shuttle arrived at Vestaad carrying the small Proconsul from her home aboard The Storm’s Voice. The small valley was pleasantly warm despite the biting frost that covered the rest of Kaerls.
Festivus was something Mihoshi Keibatsu had very little knowledge of aside from a few mentions in historical files. From beneath the wide brim of her black hat, violet eyes took in the township.
In point of fact, Miho hadn’t even really known a place like this was on Kaerls.
“Always something new and interesting,” she said softly to the small droid on her back.
<<Not new.>>
The small Kyataran smiled softly and shrugged. “Perhaps not new, but definitely interesting. Do you think there’s a feast somewhere?”
<<I’m sure you’ll find it if they do.>>
She gave the small droid a soft laugh and nodded. “That’s true. Maybe we’ll find a dice game while were here too.”
The low, disappointed trill from over her shoulder spoke volumes about how Pips felt about that idea.
Vez lit a cigarra, hand cupped to protect the flame from the biting wind. “Duke,” she said, addressing looming murderdroid that was always at her side. “Who’s the short stack?”
The Duke turned its photoceptors to follow Miho and made a slight, tinny huff as it scanned Pip. It grumbled something back to Vez.
“That sounds familiar.”
The Duke croaked.
“Councillor of War? I didn’t vote for her.”
This got a series of short, angrier croaks.
Vez rolled her eyes. “You’re right, buddy, I shouldn’t complain until droids get the franchise. Whatever. Let’s go get shitty on mando beer.”
Yet more croaking.
“It was rhetorical, Duke, I know you can’t get drunk.”
The Primarch walked through the township, light glinting off the gilt armour the giantess always seemed to wear. She scanned the crowds with barely registered curiosity. In fact, she didn’t care that much for festivals or the like and airing grievances was a tedious process best solved with a knife in someone’s short ribs. Ah well. Maybe someone would actually be interesting this time around.
If not, there was always the option of having a quick meal and then heading back to get more work done.
She ducked through the doorway into the hall and stretched slightly, careful not to disturb any low-flying decorations.
Quite suddenly, the cigarra was ripped out of her fingers. It instead zipped through the spring-frosty air to hover above another hand, where it was promptly crushed into its component atoms by telekinetic forces.
“There are children here, ay,” an oh so familiar nagging voice scathed. Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir was a sharp relief of green, black, gold, and silver, the heavy locs of his hair seemingly more minty-white in number than malachite every time Vez had the (mis)fortune of seeing him again in person.
Vez let loose with a loud, exasperated sigh. “Wow, my ex is here, it really is a holiday.” She fished around in her coat for another cigarra. “You know, there’s also going to be drinking. Women wrestling in their skivvies. Maybe even some dancing or, goodness me, coarse language.”
“None of those poison the air everyone else breathin’,” the man deadpanned, though predictably, his right eye visibly twitched as did his jaw when referred to as her ex. “You really wanna waste your smokes keep tryna while I’m right here, ay, or you gonna save ‘em for when you hide in the fresher?”
“That took longer than I expected,” came the gentle baritone of Starosta Erinos, vocal cadence knitting the words together like notes of a song. Although his command of Basic was such that he could speak without an accent, he thought of his decision to preserve his Iridonian one as a subtle rebellion against millennia of Republic hegemony.
Crystal blue eyes scanned the room to match faces to the Force signatures that pulsed like heartbeats in the vastness of the Force. Or perhaps like drums, each with their own rhythm. Some he recognized, others he did not, but he made note of them nonetheless with an expression nested somewhere between the mask of politeness that he’d grown accustomed to wearing in his myriad political meetings back home in the Dajorra System, and flashes of suspicion.
On his arm was his beloved Minnow, dressed in the rose gold armor of Clan Erinos, her helmet tucked under her arm.
“You caught me smoking outside, on a windy day, next to the starships, and you’re worried about the air quality?” She tucked another cig in her mouth, though she didn’t bother lighting it just yet. “Tell me you didn’t grow up on Mirial without saying you didn’t grow up on Mirial.”
“I grew up breathing tibanana and smog,” Ruka persisted, a furl of annoyance creeping into his richly accented tone, milky lavender eyes focused on the unlit stick with promise. “Pretty sure Kiast has a worse atmo than Mirial. Just keep it away from anybody.”
- Meanwhile, Minnie sort of grimaced through her wide, welcoming smile, waving here and there and giving Mando'a greetings. She spoke softly just for her partner, “What, your teacher finding something to be bothered about?”
Even now, she didn’t use the word Master, despite its validity and respect Bril had for it in his jediit context.
<@1056685516441006091> <@371402534973341696>
“Vod, I will not tell you again.” Gülvyr stared down Rhurk, a burly Zabrak with graying hair and a scarred expression, as their argument escalated from familial concern to disrespectful disobedience. “These people are Cabour'yad — under my protection as is my right and duty. We will abide by tradition and extend every hospitality per our laws.”
“Ne shab'rud'ni, vod—” Rhurk hissed the warning with bitterness as the two supercommandos flanking the doors to Gülvyr’s command room grasped their blades.
The alor simply raised a hand to calm them. “Careful what you say next, Rhurk.” The implied threat lingered like a thick fog between them.
Rhurk backed down first. “You’re getting old. One day soon Arasuum will take you and we shall return to our old ways.”
“Until that day comes, you will follow my orders.” The aging commander’s head flicked to the side, strongly implying the discussion was over. Rhurk turned on his heel and left the room, the doors behind him hissing to a close.
“That went well.” Hedda, his Sephi Mandalorian hunting partner, bit into her green apple as she commented, matter-of-factly. She was relaxed, leaning against one of the elaborately decorated wooden support pillars holding the building upright. “One day soon, he’ll challenge you for alor. It is certain.” The last comment she added in Sephi. A proverb in their culture, one that had a deathly finality to it.
“So will you.” Gülvyr scowled at her as if to a child learning for the first time what Okami tradition demanded. Her smile didn’t fade, she simply diverted his dour energy into something more positive. “Maybe, but not today. Today we feast and indulge in our good fortune.” She bit into the apple again as she quoted his own words from the invitation.
“You should stop teasing and meet our guests.” He tried to divert back but it rarely ever worked.
“That is your job. I’m just here for the food and drinks.” She shrugged as she picked up her helmet and started for the door. “Come, alor, your guests are waiting.”
Esen Dulle strolled through the town, staying towards the outskirts of the crowds. Being in the center was absolutely killer. Foot traffic was always slow. From the outside she was able to see many things… but at a distance.
She wasn’t entirely sure what to wear today, but opted for her casual military attire. Slicked back, gelled blue hair into a tight donut bun. She wore a white long sleeve shirt tucked into her dark green tactical pants, of which were bloused at the ankles over her dark, well loved, combat boots.
She brought her medical bag and Vox, her BD-Backpack droid, which circular censor peaked over her shoulder. She heard there was a fighting ring so she decided to bring them just in case. Plus Vox wouldn’t let her go to a festival without him anyway.
The two of them peered over the crowd, not too familiar with the environment and customs, but did spot a familiar substantial figure, the Primarch, who of which is currently her boss, at Haevan Research Facility.
“What do you say Vox, we go say thanks to Ma’am Suoh?”
His sensor clicked and whirred focusing on the direction of Esen’s gaze, as he produced a series of small beeps.
She nodded shortly after, as the two made their careful approach.
Laughter and the indistinct chatter of conversation filled the grand hall. Turel approached the bar at the corner of the hall set aside for Vatali and those with offworld tastes. He wore a skillful mask of a smile and warm greetings but the Jedi Master’s mind was elsewhere. He wanted to fade into the background. This would be his last function in the Kiast system for a while for soon Turel would be heading to Arx to assume office as the new Headmaster. How Alethia had maneuvered to secure Turel as her replacement, he had no idea. It was, however, an idea he was still getting used to.
“Corellian whiskey,” the Jedi ordered with a warm smile toward the ethereally beautiful Sephi bartender. Even though the bar was complimentary, Turel slid a generous slid across the counter when he got his drink.
The Headmaster-to-be slipped into a corner of the hall as best he could.
Syrena made her arrival to the grand celebration at hand, or rather, she collided into it.
Her Keeradak— wings shimmering with a light dusting of silver glitter— swooped low over the lit clearing. She leaned closer to admire the crowds and the festive decor, her balance hindered by the copious amounts of Shesharilian vodka she’d consumed prior to Festivus, in order to better prepare. Syrena was fairly certain the Keeradak had managed to consume some as well.
Suddenly, they both fell forwards in a downwards spiral, their fall softened by a tent. A sturdy one. Mostly sturdy.
Syrena gazed up at the sky, a smile on her face as she stumbled to her feet and tossed her cascade of pale pink hair back over one shoulder.
“Looks like we made it! Oopsies… we’ll pay for this… somethin like that,” She mumbled to herself as she gazed at the tent’s wreckage. “Festivus is a good place to fall.”
Syrena stepped back over to the Keeradak, reaching for where her bag was, only to pull out a new, unopened bottle. “There it is! Knew I had another one of these somewhere…”
Gülvyr and Hedda moved through the main square, greeting arrivals as they went. Their trek to the Great Hall was slow but fruitful with many new arrivals and some old and familiar faces.
A young woman’s fall drew their attention, her mishap with the tent a curiosity and disruption they did not expect. Gülvyr walked up to her as she almost bumped into him. His expression usually stern and unforgiving, now flashed with well concealed concern.
He was a full head and shoulders taller than her, in full armor, flanked by three Mandalorians in enough firepower to bring down a platoon of soldiers, and yet at that moment he looked like an aging grandfather.
“Are you alright, Governor?” he asked calmly, recognizing the young woman from various briefings.
<@607619766752116771>
Edgar was finishing up his rounds. He spent a good portion of the day going to each venue for the festival to make sure things were as they should be. The Kitchens, outdoor barbecue, with the best view of the Festivus Pole, and not to mention the bars, had to be fully stocked with vendors on standby in case there was a shortage of something (probably booze).
He was doing a quick inspection of the fighting arena and was always amazed at how the Okami tribe made sure this structure was built to last. The grey Jedi was very familiar with the Okami, dealing with and relying on them back on Solyiat. He was honored and grateful that they allowed the clan to come back to celebrate with them this year.
As he walked back to the Grand Hall, he heard the party already in full swing, waving to some old friend as he entered the building, he found his old friend and co-host sitting alone by the bar, “Turel, I see everything is in full swing here. Everything else is also ready to go, and we should be set up for a fine Festivus.”
“Good, the Mandos will do most of the heavy lifting, but since we are their guest, it’s good for us to play a more active role in running the event.” He commented.
“ I agree, so when do you ship out again? It only seems like you just got back.” Edgar said as he was handed a drink. Turel looked at him, “shortly after the festival ends. I have to report in and get settled in before classes start next term, but don’t worry, I’ll be back i aways am.”
Edgar turned slightly away from The Headmaster smiled widely and said in a low, mocking tone, “And then you leave as soon as you get back, like you always do.”
“ Hey, wait a … “ Turel’s objection was cut off as Edgar stood up, waved to the musicians to stop playing, and addressed the crowd.
“Good evening, everyone. The Okami Clan, Turel, and I welcome all of you to the great Festival of Festivus. Please continue to enjoy yourself here, but please don’t forget to take part in the other fun activities, games, and even the fighting arena to work out any disagreements you may have with someone, or just go and enjoy the fights. Again, thank you all for coming and please have fun, everyone”! The crowd gave a cheer, and with another wave of his hand, the music started up again, and some of the Mandalorians stood up and started to sing, It was then that the crowd was treated to an Okaimi traditional Festivus song. Edgar turned back to his friend, smiled, and simply said, “That goes for you too, go enjoy yourself too, my friend.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Edgar spotted Gulvyr Okami and Syrena. He grabbed his drink and walked over to the pair of them to see how the head of the Mandalorians was doing and, if need be, rescue his young Quaestor.