42 ABY Daleem Pernicar Manor
The Govenors Mansion is a rather impressive, if not fully constructed building. While the western most outer wall has not been fully finished, this is still the site of a great party hosted by the self styled Jedi Lord and official Governor Tisto Kingang. You have all been invited to this event celebrating the start of Hoths reign in the area. Members of the House, major political organizations, and visitors alike are all welcome to what the invitation makes out to be this spectacular event.
What you find instead is a dark and cold building standing visibly alone in the middle of a snowstorm. The party is being hosted in the manors great hall, with tarps covering the western wall to catch any snow that made it this far into the building. Wooden tables are laid out with food and drink, and the halls multiple fire places crackle with heat. At the moment it seems the power to the great hall is on the fritz, likely due to the storm, and your host is doing their best to keep this functional.
It is not a secret that the construction of Pernicar Manor and many other important buildings that will make up this future city have been stalled due to weather. Still, even with these failings the party seems lively as you arrive. The Druud Conclave, a group of local Ithorians, sent several representatives. They are matched by the Survivors of Gradrrbecca, a Wookie delegation that has been feuding with them. Alongside these two rising powers, a group of uniformed Sephi walk about, wearing what appears to be a poor imitation of the Hoth Sigil that hangs on banners along three of the four walls. Several other smaller political factions have made themselves at home near the drink tables, chatting amongst eachother.
Tisto can be seen on a balcony overlooking everying. “Greetings Guests, and welcome to the Housewarming of Pernicar Manor!”
The Kiffar can’t help but chuckle at his own joke. “Please eat, drink, talk and have a wonderful time! I shall be down to join you shortly. I have some paperwork to finish up.”
The sputtering sounds of an engine fade in, even over the din of conversation and the gathering storm. This crescendo peaks and then abruptly ceases as a clunky old freighter turns off its engine outside a back entrance of the manor.
Frenek Mausma, a human, exits the spacecraft and walks over to the back of the vehicle. He unloads a large arm-full of crates from the cargo bay of the ship, an old freighter owned by his workplace that he is keeping together with love, sweat, and duct tape. Carefully, as his sight is obstructed, he stumbles over to one of the back doors of the manor and knocks clumsily three times with one of his elbows.
Inside the Manor, amidst the many patrons, a female Zeltron stood near the bar, a shimmering wine glass held in one hand. She wore her smooth pink hair in an array of neat curls, and a flowing black halter-neck evening gown crafted of fine silk.
She paused, alerted by the obnoxious sputtering sound of an all too familiar spacecraft. “Maybe one day he’ll work up enough credits to finally have a ship of his own, instead carting around that piece of company trash…” She mumbled quietly to herself with an exasperated sigh.
With a few graceful strides, she made her way to the back door, throwing it open and looking at Frenek in disbelief. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be working, this is a party!” Syrena couldn’t help but exclaim. Quickly, she gestured for him to enter the manor. “Come in, come in…” She finally said as she stepped back inside, shifting her gaze curiously to the other partygoers.
Mihoshi entered the grand hall, clad in a thick fur mantle, her violet eyes scanning the room and its occupants almost harshly. The War Councillor had not had the intention of coming to this…well, soirée was not the right word, but gathering seemed a little too on the nose.
She looked in the direction the Governor - she snorted to herself softly - had departed. The Kiffar was excitable, undependable and more than a little reckless from what her reports had told her and so far they had not been wrong about him.
The small fur-clad woman carried with her a presence that was both inviting and colder than the weather outside the walls. With swift steps, her sensible-heeled boots carried her across the room to the bar. “Corellian whisky.”
The being behind the bar smiled apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry, madam. We do not have that on hand.”
Miho pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. “Then just give me a glass of whatever rotgut you have. Make it at least look nice.”
The being smiled and prepared a drink for the Proconsul, happy as a pig in mud to be of useful service. Within moments, the small Human had a glass of something dark, smelled like engine degreaser and had a small pink umbrella and a chunk of ice in it. “Well, I’m sure it tastes better than it smells. You’d think he didn’t have a budget for decent drinks around here.”
Miho sniffed almost disdainfully before she turned her violet eyes towards the Zeltron who also eyed the gathered sapients.
Frenek hurried inside, shutting out the storm behind him. At Syrena’s comment, he went red in the face with embarrassment. “I know, I know, work-life balance and all that. But when you see what I have inside these crates,” he said with a smirk, “you may change your mind.”
At that, he made his way through the crowd to the bar and set the crates down behind it. The bartender thanked him, and both of them began to open the crates. Frenek lifted up a large bottle of Corellian whisky before the crowd of partygoers. “Sorry for the delay, folks! Engine was over-greased and cut out halfway here.” He sniffed the air twice, and then looked toward Miho on the other side of the bar. “Hey, is that engine degreaser I smell? Are you gonna use that?”
The Proconsul looked at the new human, an eyebrow rising as she was just sort of taken aback. Miho prided herself on being approachable and willing to speak with anyone. But this pilot - delivery person? - was just so….human.
With a smile playing her her lips and her violet eyes filled top full with mirth she held the glass up. “If you have a carton of cigarras in there, I’ll expense the whole bottle for you.”
She liked the man, his entire manner seemed infectious and Miho just couldn’t help but smile at him. “And tell the one that opened the door for you that drinking alone is for sods and to pull up a…well, to call them chairs or stools might be a bit ambitious, but pull one up anyway.”
The pink-haired female paused for a moment, quickly catching sight of his embarrassment, as fleeting as it was. In truth, she had always respected his devout work ethic, but also longed to see him let loose a bit more. Thankfully, this event of sorts would provide the perfect opportunity for such a thing.
She caught sight of another female patron with violet eyes, one who seemed to have quite the striking sense of style. Syrena simply couldn’t contain her enthusiasm at this, doing everything in her power to resist the temptation of petting the soft-looking fur coat. “Wow! I absolutely adore your outfit. Just where did you get it? That is so chic,” Syrena exclaimed with a bright smile lighting the features of her rose-hued face.
As Frenek began to unload the crates, she eyed the whiskey with an eager look shimmering in her pale lavender gaze. “Well, at least you brought something fun. Time to get drinkin’,” Syrena stated just as she caught the last few words of the other female. “If you say so, don’t mind if I do! Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
At Miho’s request to invite Syrena, Frenek smiled broadly, saying, “Oh, not to worry,” he continued with a hearty chuckle, “If I know Syrena, she’s already on her way to the bar!” He shuffled through the crowd to a nearby table and removed one of the cheap stools, taking it back to the bar and setting it down just as Syrena arrived. At the familiar sound of Syrena beginning to dote over yet another stranger’s outfit, as impressive as it was, Frenek smiled, gestured toward the crate behind the bar, and mouthed to Miho, “Cigarras…” He walked behind the bar once more, knelt down, and began digging through one of the crates.
A minute later, he stood up, reappearing to those on the other side of the bar with a carton of cigarras in hand. He attempted to nudge the bartender, who by this time was waist-deep in drink requests. When the bartender showed no sign of responding to him, he fished some credits out of his pocket and left them on the bar. Then he procured three cigarras from the carton. He handed one to Miho and one to Syrena and put one between his teeth.
Mihoshi accepted the proffered cigarra with a smile. Setting one end between her lips, she grabbed a small matchbox from the bar and lit the other end as she took a drag. Her youthful features relaxed a little more as she poured herself a few fingers of Corellian whisky.
“The finer things in life are some of the things my bodyguards have made sure I take the time to enjoy.”
Miho held the bottle up, offering some to the Zeltron. “I’m Mihoshi Keibatsu, the War Councillor of Odan-Urr.”
She smiled gently at Syrena and then at Frenek. “And you two are recently come, yes?”
The elegant line of her eyebrow arched in an expression of mild curiosity as Frenek took it upon himself to head behind the bar. The moment that he re-emerged with a metal box of exceptional imported cigarras, a pleased smile came to her face. “Ah, much appreciated,” Syrena sighed happily as he passed her the cigarra.
After placing the roll between her lips, she extended one hand and gave a sudden snap. With just the right amount of concentration, the very movement triggered a flickering pattern of white sparks to emanate from her fingertips. Carefully, Syrena touched this hand to end of her cigarra, igniting the end of it. Seeing that the violet-eyed female had already taken care of her own cigarra with a matchbox, Syrena turned to Frenek with a smirk. “Allow me,” She said, extending a fingertip to light his as well as a courtesy. Just as quickly as they had emerged, once this was done, the sparks dancing along her fingertips instinctively simmered away like that of a extinguished flame.
“Bodyguards…?” Syrena began to wonder aloud, able to determine she was most likely speaking to someone of great importance if such a thing was required. She paused to take a steady inhale from her cigarra, exhaling the smoke neatly in a circular shape, away from her companions and towards the direction of the bar. “Ah, so you’re the War Councillor. I do not know what such things entail, but… Pleasure to meet you, War Councillor Mihoshi,” The Zeltron female said politely, momentarily rising from the bar, giving the graceful form of a curtsy as a formality. “I am Syrena Valkar… And yes, I have joined recently… Decided to give up months of partying to be of greater service… But alas, here I am at another party. Not that I’m complaining,” She couldn’t help but say with a light laugh as she sat back down, taking another long drag from her cigarra. At the offer of the drink from Miho, Syrena eagerly extended her glass. “Why thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
The party began to pick up, the delivery done by Frenek brining new life to the event. People began to leave the groups they had arrived with, mixing around. Its not long before the flowing of actual booze leads to singing, horrible attempts at showmanship, and the occasional brawl. Most of the brawls seem to be happening around the Wookies, with both the Ithorians and Sephi getting manhandled by the larger guests. Even then these are never prolonged or overly violent affairs, and the party seems to be going well.
The Govenor is someone you can occasionally glimpse moving through the crowd, never staying in one conversation long enough to be pinned down. Several aids work their way through the crowd, delivering datapads, checking on how things are going, and lastly bringing out menus. It seems that the party had a much better investment in food than in things like alcohol. When the datapad with the menue makes it way you, its made very clear there is an ecypted file stored inside it that will be revealed when you order.
After a few minutes the Governor stumbles into view on the upper balcony. He raises a glass to the crowd, drinking from it, before falling over the banister and into the crowd with a loud crash.
At the sight of the Governor raising his glass, Frenek had smiled and raised his glass of whisky in return, while simultaneously taking a deep drag from his cigarra. When the Governor fell over the balcony, Frenek coughed out a bit of smoke in a fit of suppressed laughter and shock. He recovered himself, finished exhaling, and stood up from his seat at the bar, gesturing with his head toward where the Governor landed. “If I had ten credits for every time I’ve been where that fella is right now, I’d be a rich man. Now, if you ladies will kindly excuse me a minute, I’ll just be checking up on our gracious host.” Frenek handed his drink to Syrena with a grin and sauntered off into the thick of the crowd toward Tisto.
As Frenek makes his way over he can hear murmuring coming from the crowd. An aide rushes over to check on the unmoving Tisto, only to look at the crowd with a grim look on their face.
“He is dead.”
As more patrons filled the room, the overall energy of the party seemed to be rising, bringing a pleased smile to Syrena’s rose-hued lips. “Oh, how I do love a good party….” She couldn’t help but say as she took another drag from her cigarra, exhaling a soft ring of purple-hazed smoke. The effects of it relaxed her senses, yet were not enough to cloud them entirely. Once finished, she let the cigarra fall to the marble floor, extinguishing it with the heel of her stiletto. Her pale lavender eyes shimmered with a look of curiosity as her gaze subconsciously drifted towards the other guests, amidst the points of contention involving the Wookies. Catching sight of the Governor, she focused on him instead as he seemed to be preparing a toast, something that looked to happily oblige the whiskey-drinking Frenek beside her.
However, at the sound of a loud crash, the Governor falling from where he once stood on the upper balcony, Syrena instinctively rose from her seat. At Frenek’s next comment, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes in a subtly amused manner. “Yes, I’m fully aware of your whole, ‘Work hard, play harder’ philosophy,” She laughed, though nodded in agreement when Frenek offered to check on the man, her demeanor shifting back to one that was focused. “I’ll go with you,” Syrena quickly added, hastily moving to where the Governor lay.
She locked eyes on the aide, the elegant lines of her brows lowering as an expression of outrage lit across the feminine features of her face. “Step aside. Now,” was all that Syrena spoke in an icy tone as she immediately leapt into action, kneeling down beside the Governor’s body. Drawing upon this sense of outrage that flooded through her mind, her hands once again flared with white tendrils of lightning. “You can’t be dead… Your people need you…” She spoke quietly, before directing both palms of her hands towards the Governor’s chest, as though to send focused volts of electricity to his heart in an attempt to resuscitate him.
Mihoshi accepted the offered data pad with a smile at the waitstaff. She looked over the menu options, her eyebrows knitting thoughtfully with each item. The commotion had only earned a cursory glance from her before she was no longer interested. Tisto was an odd on and all sorts of nonsense was listed in his personnel file in her office. “I think I’ll have this one.”
She touched the listing on the pad for some kind of domestic bird. The vegetable options sounded delicious as well. Pairing it with one of the listed white wines, she set the pad down on the bar and continued to sip her whisky. “I bet it was just a body double. That scoundrel is probably watching and laughing somewhere.”
She thought for a moment. “Or I’ll need to find the Empress a new Governor. Either way, not hard to manage.”
Anyone nearby to hear would probably be shocked - shocked - by the Kyatarans callous words as she sat smoking her cigarra and sipping her drink.
As Miho put in her order, the datapad the menu was on let out a low ding. The order confirmation was on screen long enough to be checked before a new page opened on the datapad.
Greetings Miho! At least I hope this menu got to you, otherwise things would be awkward. If you are reading this I am dead for now. That is absolutely me on the ground. Someone at this banquet poisoned my drink when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. I know exactly who it was, I figured this would be far more fun.
The screen holds on that for half a minute before changing again.
Greetings guest! I have been murdered! Unfortunately until the murderer is discovered you might find our electronics are having connection issues and the doors are locked. Truly a shame. But congratulations! You are **Innocent* of this murder. I reccomend gathering people you trust. The murderer had something to gain from my death, and truly this would look terrible for them if they were discovered. This message will wipe itself from the datapad in about three minutes so no one can cheat. Good luck!*
Frenek stepped aside and watched as Syrena attempted to resuscitate Tisto’s body, marveling at her quick thinking and action, as well as the intricately coordinated electricity that she emitted from her fingers. When, however, after a minute, nothing seemed to be working, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s time to let this one go,” he said, his words tinged with caution proportionate to her apparent investment in this delicate situation.
Besides, some of the aides were continuing to distribute menus, and as more guests entered their orders, the air began to fill with dinging noises. His stomach rumbled. With each ding, he perceived his next meal being prolonged by entire minutes. He looked across the crowd back to Miho, who was engrossed in her menu, content, it semed, simply to be placing her order. He wondered what she might be having.
As an aide passed by, he half-raised an arm to get their attention. “Hi, yes, could I trouble you for two menus, please? One for me, and one for my…” he faltered for a moment, turned, and waved an arm toward Syrena, who seemed to have her hands full at the moment. “Actually, I’ll just take both for now, if you don’t mind.”
Seeing that her efforts were to no avail, Syrena began to allow the electric charge to dissipate, taking deep breaths to steady her senses. Had Frenek placed his hand on her shoulder a mere seconds ago, he most likely would’ve been met with a shockwave of white-hot electric energy, but now– Nothing, all except for the faintest of traces. Syrena’s silvery gaze shimmered to hold a fleeting look of calculation. How does one unmask the source of such a crime? The female couldn’t help but ponder to herself. She willed her features to shift back to a light-hearted appearance, one where a warm smile danced across her rosy lips, an effective mask to where Syrena’s mind truly was.
“Oh, not to worry, I’ve let it go already! Let’s get back to the party, shall we?” She said intentionally loudly, with believable paced artificial laughter following her statement. Syrena certainly had no intention of letting this go, but knew that perhaps if the murderer thought no one was watching, there was a chance they would reveal their true intentions— Whoever they were. Taking the menu datapad from Frenek with a brief look of gratitude towards him, she made quick work of observing the message stating the Governor had been murdered. “Intriguing,” was all that Syrena commented, though her gaze now drifted to where Miho stood.
She made her way across the room in a few strides, black silk fabric of her dress flowing behind her with each movement. “I presume you have received this as well?” Syrena asked, holding up the datapad menu that showcased the message beginning with: Greetings guest! Syrena glanced back at Frenek, gesturing for him to join them. “I suppose now… We mingle with the guests to figure this whole little problem out. I don’t mind starting on the dance floor,” She began to say quietly, instinctively glancing that direction. In truth, a part of Syrena was always looking for any excuse to dance when it came to social events– But this time, perhaps it could actually serve a purpose.
Mihoshi looked at the datapad with wide eyes and shook her head slightly as she took another drink. “I received nothing of the sort.”
She holds up her datapad which has gone back to the menu listing before snubbing out her finished cigarra. “Perhaps it’s special just to you two since you’re members of his Noble House?”
The small Kyataran Proconsul sat there, the picture of innocence on her youthful features. It was a skill she’d picked up during her long years in the Unknown. How to lie with her entire body. She finshed her drink and set the glass down again, tapping the rim as the bartender came closer. “And another cigarra, please.”
The man nodded and pulled a pack of cigarras out then he set a piece of perfectly spherical ice in the cup before filling it with more amber-colored whisky. “There you go, madam Councillor.”
Miho smiled at him brightly again, the liquor doing more to keep the cold off her than the thick fur mantle. “Thank you.” She took a sip from her glass and turned back to Frenek and Syrena. “What do you think it all means, hm?”
Despite the shock of touching Syrena’s electrically-charged shoulder, Frenek resisted the reaction to pull away, sensing that she was winding down now and that she might appreciate the gesture. Down at this level he glimpsed shards of Tisto’s now broken martini glass twinkling as they swam under strobing lights. He furrowed his thick brows. It had seemed so sudden: one moment, Tisto was toasting to everyone’s health; the next, he was lying dead—sans health. Could this drink have been poisoned?
Uncharacteristically deep in thought, Frenek had hardly noticed that Syrena had stood and started away. The shock of suddenly seeing her striding off proved more a reason to react than had his electrically contracting bicep moments before. He had seen her move that deliberately enough times to know better than to be caught unawares. Besides, he had a feeling—a mere hope, perhaps—that every step closer to Miho was one step closer to a warm meal. Earlier that day, he had been out in the cold repairing the engine of his company’s freighter for quite some time, and he had not yet managed to quell the lingering feeling of hunger.
Sure enough, Syrena was pulling out her menu and showing it to Miho when he rejoined them at bar. Promising, he thought to himself. As it turned out, however, she was only planning to investigate the crime further. Womp rats. He disassociated briefly, until hearing that she’d be doing what she did best on the dance floor. Well, at least that’s a plus. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you dance this evening,” Frenek said. “I’m afraid I’ll only be watching from a distance this time; I have a feeling I should head to the kitchen. I don’t know for certain, but I have a feeling Tisto’s been poisoned. Maybe one of the kitchen staff there saw something fishy.”
Syrena gazed over at Mihoshi, dark black lashes fluttering as she blinked quickly, intaking this new information. “Why yes, of course… Perhaps so,” Was all she said to petite female before her for the time being, momentarily distracted by her thoughts as she tried to decipher all the possibilities. “I cannot say what it means, at least for now… But it seems that there is a killer in our midst, unless this is just some elaborate prank… Though I seriously doubt that,” Syrena drawled, gaze briefly shifting to the direction of the aide, as she remembered the grim expression on their face when they made the announcement.
She next turned to Frenek, having half expected him to ask her to dance given their… History. Her lips pursed into a faint yet fleeting frown, though Syrena’s shimmering silvery gaze quickly hardened into a look of concentration, effectively masking her mild disappointment at this. Besides, she was fully aware that there were much more important issues currently at hand anyways. “Very well,” Syrena finally stated to Frenek, though nodded in agreement at his inference. “Report back if you find anything, in the meantime I’ll take to the dance floor to observe some of the guests more… directly… And perhaps keep an eye on the drink staff while I’m at it…” She whispered before turning on her heel, already heading in that direction.
A jazz trio of three Biths, each clad in black tuxedos soon took to the stage, tuning their instruments in unison. The music soon began to play, amplified by the steady thump of an ommni box. Syrena glided across the stone floor, each elegant step purposeful and smooth. Her body began to sway to the rhythm of the music, the black silk of her dress flowing around her form with each fluid movement. Able to maintain a sense of focus, she made a quick visual scan of those on the dance floor, eventually locking eyes with a uniformed Sephi male.
Syrena glided over to him, an inviting smile dancing across her lips. “What brings someone like yourself to an event like this?” She asked in a smooth tone of voice, putting her Zeltron charms to work. “It’s a shame, what happened to the Governor… But between you and me, I never liked him much anyways,” Syrena stated with a wink, attempting to draw out information from the Sephi.
The Sephi examined the Zeltron, looking puzzled. “Well if I am going to be honest, he was kind of an ass. But this won’t look good for the petition. Whoever Hoth appoints next is going to be looking into any petitioners failings this evening.”
He will shake his head. “No despite the former govenors faults my crew and I still have a job to do.”
It’s not lost on Syrena that even by his not quite a uniform this is not the individual in charge of the Sephi. The ranks are about the only thing that seems accurate on these uniforms, and his would leave him in somewhat of a middle management position of… something to do with Hoth?
Frenek was drawing himself closer to the portal of warm light promised by the small circular window on the door to the kitchen, neglecting his peripheral vision to the extent that he bumped into something large and covered with fur. “Oh, excuse me…” he mumbled, looking up—practically craning his neck—at the Wookie who now stood in his path.
The kitchen door swung open. A waiter passed through, holding a tray of mixed drinks, which availed to turn the Wookie’s head. Frenek looked between the Wookie and the drinks. Somehow he couldn’t quite picture someone with such large features carrying out the delicate task of slipping poison into a drink. And yet, you couldn’t be too careful.
Frenek ventured a conversation starter. “Hello, my friend!” he shouted above the loud bass of the Bith coming from the ommni box. “I was just wondering, do you reckon the food around these parts will hold a candle to the stuff back home?” He paused briefly, scanning the Wookie’s face for signs of listening. He decided to press on, saying, “If I was trying to decide if I wanted to work as a bodyguard for House Hoth, I’d at least want to know that it was a worthy cause, if you understand me,” he said, rubbing his stomach.
Listening to the Sephi’s reply, Syrena made a quick mental note to the new information. “Hmm, failing petitioners, interesting thought,” She remarked with a quick nod to the Sephi’s words. Her demeanor seemed to shift from the illusion of lightheartedness, to one that was much more calculated. “Very well then…” Syrena said, observing the rank on his uniform. It became quickly apparent to her that this individual was one of a middle-tier ranking in relation to Hoth.
Shifting her sights elsewhere, Syrena began to search for a new lead. She moved away from the dance floor, catching a glance of where the various servants were refilling their drink trays. Now in a quieter area of the room, she let her eyes flutter closed, focusing on those around her. Syrena could sense the presence of each living being, could feel the tendrils of life that connected one to the other, like that of a stream of music notes. Trying to drown out the noise, she instead used this ability to hone in on that of the servers, until Syrena was able to pinpoint the location of one in particular amidst the crowd.
Syrena approached the server with a gracious smile, intercepting them just as they prepared to step towards a beverage refill station. “These drinks are quite literally to die for, you’ve done an excellent job tonight,” She began to compliment. “But I simply have to ask… Who ordered that drink that you brought to Tisto?” Syrena began to curiously ask this particular individual, her voice gentle as she spoke, in hopes of revealing the truth. “Look, I know it’s been a very long evening for you and the other servers, and that all you probably want is just to end your shifts and go home… ” She began to state, drawing from her own personal experiences. “However, the unfortunate truth is that the longer it takes for us to figure this out, the longer the party will go on… Which will, of course, inevitably delay you all from heading home…” Syrena drawled on. “In other words, if you help me with answers, I’ll help get to the bottom of this so you can all just call it a night,” She added smoothly.
Mihoshi finished her drink and smiled at the bartender. A hand pulled a credit chip from a pocket and walked it across the backs of her knuckles. “Interesting happenings around here tonight, hm?”
She made sure the credits had the full attention of the man. “Anything you might be wanting to talk about in regards to them? Who might have a grudge against the Governor, someone who might want to disrupt things? Servants and staff always talk more with each other than with the ones who pay salaries.”
The Kyataran looked at the credits she toyed with and smiled brightly. “You help me and there’s more where this came from if the information’s good.”
It wasn’t something that people viewed with high esteem, but Miho had learned over the years in Unknown Space that being willing to bribe people got you places faster than just talking and hoping for a favor instead of spittle.
“What do you say? You hear anything from the fine folks here?”
The bartender does his best to pretend to think about it. And with this intention he spends several seconds staring directly at the credit chip and doing some math on a bar napkin. Once he seems to have come to a decision, the bartender nods. “Well, I know the different folks petitioning to be the new bodyguards are all trying to one up eachother. The Sephi brought their uniforms, the Wookies brought the governor some records from New Tython, and there were plenty of weapons brought in by gifts from others trying to do that same thing. But they seem to be going for impressing the weird guy.”
He thinks for a second and continues. “I know the Shipwrights Guild tried to get in on the ground floor of building this place up but were denied by the Governor. They have some representatives here. Jal-Taleer United sent representatives to secure mining contracts and last I saw they were being laughed at. The Ithorians seemed happy as clams that the current talks around the greenhouse seems to be splitting it between them and the Wookies, though some of the Wookies who aren’t part of their petition are very angry at that. I think they were talking about making a Zeltron miserable though.”
Finally, the bartender does something to try and make what he is doing less obvious. He picks up a glass and starts to clean it. “Some gang called the Azure Akuls have made their way in. The Governor punched one of them earlier this evening. I have seen some of them around. We also got a representative from a Baron Uvam who was sent to congratulate the Baron. They seem very unhappy about being here. Oh and I am pretty sure there used to be five Bith. Not sure where the other two are. Maybe they are trying a hiest?”
The server shrugged at first, before a concerned look spread across their face. “Is this not one of the Governors games? Someone tried to poison him? Oh this is bad, I was the one to serve him that glass. The shipwrights guild wanted to get him buzzzed so they could try to renegotiate a contract or something.”
They look around. “Am I facing jail for this? I didn’t know anything was up with the drink.”
The Wookie nodded along with that comment, proudly showing off a clearly home made badge of office. It looks sort of like the Hoth Symbol but as if it were growing from a tree. The Wookie eventually gets pulled away as some of its fellows come and collect it, but they hand you a datapad with the following on it.
We are conducting an investigation into the death of Governor Tisto. Did he talk to you before this? Are you Innocent? Do you know what happens if you lie to a Wookie?
Two Wookies, not the one you initially approached, stand awaiting your answer.
Frenek gazed at the datapad, reading it over twice and trying not to think about what might happen if one were to lie to a Wookie. He looked up at the pair who were awaiting his answer and grinned weakly. Then he looked back down at the datapad and began to enter his reply with measured words:
The Governor? I’ve been wondering about what happened to him, myself. Unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure of making his acquaintance before his accident. I assure you, I am innocent. I came here on a delivery job—basic provisions and party favors, which I have been testing firsthand all night, if you understand me. And you’ll be happy to know that I have never suffered the misfortune of finding out what happens if you lie to a Wookie.
Frenek returned the datapad the Wookie on the left and gave them a firm pat on the arm.
While standing beside the server, Syrena made sure to grab two glasses of imported Burmessian wine. “Ah, the Shiprights Guild, I understand…” She said slowly, her silvery gaze instinctively shifting in the direction of where a few representatives were standing amidst the party. “Jail time? Hmm, hard to say… But you see that woman in the lovely fur coat sitting at the bar? That’s the War Councillor, and I would be more than happy to give her your name should you not comply with our requests…” Syrena continued in an almost nonchalant tone, as a slight smirk curved across her lips. “Should you find out any more news, do report back. And in exchange, I’ll keep your little secret,” She added in a whisper, her words followed by a playful wink.
Syrena turned her attention back to the crowd, discreetly weaving her way through as her gaze locked onto a new target. Judging by a first glance at the more refined attire, she could only guess that this gentleman she was approaching was a representative of the Shipwrights Guild. Syrena settled beside him with ease, gazing up at him through fluttering lashes. “What a lovely event this has turned out to be…” She remarked to the gentleman in a smooth tone of voice. “I presume you are a representative of the Shipwrights Guild? I’ve always wanted to know more about your operations. And while I understand some of the beverage choices at this event have been terrible, I’ve managed to secure you a glass of the finest Burmessian wine,” Syrena began to say, extending an elegantly gloved hand to offer him the beverage.
The Wookie nods to Frenek as he leaves, going about their own investigation.
Meanwhile over by Syrena the Shipwrights Guild associate raised an eyebrow at the Zeltron. “I don’t know if I would call this lovely. No one has even bothered to move the body.”
They took a moment to examine the bottle. “Oh but its the 12 BBY vintage. One of their worst years. But I suppose one can’t be too picky. What did you want to know about our opperations?”
Glancing at the wine, a soft sigh escaped her lips. Despite spending as much time as she could at socialite events, attempting to blend in amongst those of vast wealth, Syrena had always known deep down she would never truly belong, as much as she wanted to. Instead, she had opted to live by the phrase, fake it till you make it, which had so far at least gotten her this far. A single glass of wine was luxury enough to Syrena, given that she had spent the majority of her life without such fine provisions, as a slave.
“One of their worst years, you say….” She began to slowly repeat, a knowing smirk dancing across her lips. “That’s an interesting comment, coming from someone who wanted to get the Governor buzzed. You could have at the very least chosen to give him a better quality drink,” Syrena finally stated as she gestured towards the body, her words holding an edge of ice to them. “So tell me…. Was it worth it? What is it you so badly wanted to gain..?”
The Shipwrights Guild associate sighed. “If you had only dealt with him you would understand. If anything I did you all a favor.”
There was a rush of activity as aids began to crowd around Syrena and the associate, placing the man in stun cuffs. They are gone as quick as they arrived, blending back into the party. Yet the commotion does not stop. With the attempted murderer found, Tisto picked himself up off the floor with an exaggerated yawn. He first found himself approaching Frenek, giving the man a business card.
“If you find yourself in need of work… good job getting through the storm.”
The governor brought a drink over to Syrena, leaving it for her on the table.
“Good job. Maybe next time don’t go for the lighting. You almost gave away the game.”
Finally Tisto approached Miho, a smile on his face.
“What do you think of the latest batch of Hoth?”