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| - => Sabacc Deck=> Kizuka=> Prashk=> Scene object (Type: LOOK SCENE OBJECT)(#5087V)=> Pallandotaircase leads to Balcony - Half Moon Hotel and Casino.ut leads to Commercial District - Bonadan SouthEast III. AthenaA young female human wearing a long red dress. Not just a dress but a very expensive red cocktail dress made of silk. It's nearly totally covered with tiny pearls and shimmers and gleams in the light like a diamond. The dress is tight cutted and goes from the neck down to the ground. Only cuz a long cut at the right leg (from the ground until over your hip bone) the legs have even place to let the person walk but reveal the right leg at every step. Three tiny small laces at the upper end of the cut stops the dress there from open to much and revealing her inner thigh but showing enough flesh at the side to be able to see any (or any missing) panties of the woman wearing it. At the front of the dress a cut, starting at the collar moves over the cleavage down to the navel. The cut at the front isn't very wide and the inner parts of the woman are visible and only another three tiny golden laces stops the dress from revealing them totally. The final and larges opening is at the back. A large heart-shaped whole reveals the back of the wearer, doing down nearly to the buttom. Only the part around the neck is totally closed and three little buttons on the backside are everything needed to close it.Carried Virtual Objects=> Galactic Standard Bank Card=> Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol => EKX-10 Blaster Rifle Kizuka Before you stands the tall form of an Imperial Army officer. Clad in his full dress uniform, he truly is a fine sight to behold. A uniform of jet black, together with a cap of similar colour clads his body, tied at the waist with a belt for a single blaster pistol; the showey IR-5. His face is marred by a rather horrific set of scars, some seeming to be surgical in their precision, others the result of near misses by blaster bolts. Two ice blue eyes, as hard as flint, glare out at the world, and a short cropped head of blond hair surmounts the image. As he moves, there is a faint (very faint) whining noise from his right leg; the effect of the bionic limb replacing one he lost in combat. Yet, he does not seem to care about the distracting noise, seeing it as another mark of honour. On his left breast, his rank bars betray him to be a Lieutenant Colonel in the Imperial Ground Forces, and directly below him his medals. He carries the Star Of Canis and the DSM, while on his right breast are his ribbons for FleetOps, CombatOps and SpecialOps, and the campaigns at Coruscant, Tatooine, Kashyyyk and a few other, less publicly known operations. On the sleeve of his uniform are silver cuff rings, showing him to have served in the Imperial services for five years. Around his waist he wears a red sash, representing him as a high-ranking officer. He also bears a chord with two knots around his right shoulder, and lapel pins showing him to be of the IV Imperial Ground Forces battlegroup. On his shoulder pads, he carries four silver stripes, denoting him to be the group's commander, together with the emblem of the force. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => IR-5 Blaster Pistol => Protective Vest => MX Heavy Blaster Pistol Mojo Standing at an average height (5'11") and displaying an athletic frame (165lbs), this creature would generally fit into the crowd. Except for the fact that it appears to be a mixture of both man and wolf. Standing erect, yet covered in a mixed coat of rust red and midnight black wolf-like fur, this creature is reminiscent of the werewolves of legend. It's body is powerful yet compact, with strong arms that end in black-clawed fingers, and springy legs that end in padded feet. The creature's face is predominately wolf-like, with a long snout (containing a set of razor-sharp fangs), pointed ears (the better to hear you with), a keen black nose (the better to smell you with), and dimly glowing red eyes. A suit of camouflaged light armor covers most of his body with projectile and blaster-resistant plates, without hampering mobility. A sturdy nylon gear belt is strapped around his waist, supporting a dozen small pouches, and creating an anchor-point for two tactical leg drop-holsters that are strapped around either thigh, cradling a Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol on the right thigh, and a IR-5 Blaster Pistol on the left thigh. A slim camouflaged backpack, with an attached medpack, is strapped to his back. No boots or shoes cover his feet, allowing his wolf-like paws a firm grip on the ground underfoot. Around his lupine neck, a black leather cord necklace is hung, strung with a collection of teeth; canines, molars, incisors, and some rare species-specific teeth. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Advanced Comlink [active] => Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol => IR-5 Blaster Pistol => Light Armor => Medpack Sargent This person's human frame is skinny and compact. The body has a vertical extent of no more than 1.5 meters and can't weigh more than 90 pounds. At first glance, the pubescent build might suggest a boy in his mid teens. But beneath strong, almost stern, eyebrows are expressive deep brown eyes that betray this person as a female in her very early 20's. The eyes redeem a not immediately attractive face with ears that stick out conspicuously. An orderly constellation of thin black barrettes holds the waves of her shoulder length brown hair. The hair has gold highlights wherever it can catch the light. She is clad in a black suit. The bold styling is slick without calling too much attention to itself. The shirt has a banded collar, and the mechanism of front closure is kept hidden behind a narrow flap of fabric. Long pants, with two simple pleats up near the waistline, drop efficiently to the top of matte finish obsidian colored shoes. An inch-wide belt sits effortlessly around the waist. Cascading over the whole body is a long jacket. Like any other suit jacket, except lacking lapels and made in a lighter fabric so it drapes elegantly to ankle level. The whole outfit is sophisticated, conservative, and makes its wearer seem almost genderless. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Advanced Comlink [active] Pallando A human looking figure is before you. He seems in his early twenties of average build and roughly 1.9 meters tall. His sar spots, the mark of a Sarian near human, march upon his olive skin from his scalp, down his temples, under his chin and beyond. Upon his throat is the tattoo of a golden point of light with halo around it as if it is a golden shinning star His conservatively cut light brown hair sets off his hazel eyes that sparkle when not intently focused on some task. He is wearing a military uniform, which is neatly pressed and starched. It consists of a dark indigo beret, gray tunic with shoulder boards, and gray slacks. On the left breast of the tunic, medals appear, as well as a plate showing him to be a Prex of the CSA, though his particular command is not readily apparent. Around his waist is a wide black belt that holds his tunic down, and sports a jet-black scabbard containing a beautifully fashioned, decorative sword pommel. Behind the blade is a military-issued sidearm holster, with the flap closed. On each leg of the slacks, an indigo stripe runs vertically on the outside crease and the bottoms tuck neatly into mirror polished knee high black boots. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Advanced Comlink => Medpack => Vibro-Blade => Vibro-Knife => Protective Vest => Vibro-Knife => Q2 Hold-Out Blaster -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Data Pad Paro Holding himself upright with an air of self-confident grace, this human combines the stout passion of a strong-headed warrior with a relaxed charm of a back-water social ease. Sculpted in the chest and gifted with physique gained in years of training, he is still dominated by his height, elongating the otherwise muscled frame into one more lean, rooted in agility. There is a striking characteristic to this being - proud and attractive - set in his olive, tanned skin and dark hair cut in fashions that spell a more high-class upbringing. And while his limbs and torso move fluidly with a touch of air in his manners, his eyes are dark and intense, piercing the space in front of him with an unmistakable vigilance of an inquisitive mind. His body is clad in an Imperial Army uniform, but black to to denote him as a Stormtrooper officer... a member of the elite shock-troops of the Galactic Empire. A black, double-breasted tunic is matched by a pair of black pants fastened by a black belt with a silver buckle, a holster, a comlink and two utility boxes, and descending impecably into leather, military issue boots. Rank insignia of Captain figure prominently on the left breast of the uniform, providing the only asymmetry to this otherwise impeccable ensemble. A pair of black gloves covers his hands. A black military cap with a silver officer's disk adorns his head. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Advanced Comlink [active] => MX Heavy Blaster Pistol -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Lecture Terminal(#4073V) Dyne Commodore Daynos Haederfeld, or Dyne as he is primarily known by, is of mid-size (6'2", 175#). He still has all of his brown hair, and he is thankful none of it has gone grey yet. He is still in his twenties, and is a young and eager Naval Officer, wanting to prove himself as much as he can to his Emperor and the entire Empire. His brown eyes, yet soft and welcoming to some, grow eager when an opportunity to prove himself comes his way. The Standard Officer's Uniform that the Commodore wears consists of an olive-grey jacket with matching jodphurs. Pleats on either side run from the shoulder down, and at chest level on the left there is a badge signifying his rank, as well as rank cylinders in small pockets on either side. The jacket is fastened by a thick black belt. There are polished black boots, and a cap with a silver pip in the centre. __ __ __ __ I |__|__|__|__| I |__|__|__|__| -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Light Armor => AA-8 Shotgun => Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol => Advanced Comlink [active] -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => D2-P67 => Datapad As competitors start to arrive and NovaCom DoC droids pass out horderves and drinks an alien band plays in corner of the casino. Athena arrives in the lobby coming from her hotel room looking around for familiar faces she can speak with. [Pallando:] Pallando mingles about the crowd making small talk with smiles and nods. "Yes I think in 60 days or so we will ahve another on Bespin. HE speaks of the next competition with a pair of kabuz. [Kizuka:] Striding in from the street, clad from head to toe in his dress uniform, and looking quite the cutting sight, Kizuka glances around. Hmm. Too many aliens for his taste- and having seen the final rankings, to know he was bested by a puppy of all things, he's not in the best taste. However, pausing to get a glass of ale from a side table, he takes a swig. "Ah.. now THAT'S better.." He comments, before glancing around for any Attractive Nubile Available Females (ANAFs for short) to engage in.. er.. conversation.=========================== TinyPlots ============================
Marksmanship Prizes As the The Inaugural Merr-Sonn/NovaCom Open Marksmanship Competition draws to a close at midnight tonight, GMT wanted to thank all of the competitors and our generous sponsors: Imperial Navy NovaCom Cybertronics - "Intelligent Electronics" The Coporate Sector Authority - "Building a better tomorrow" The Galactic Swoop League Fineline Spacways - "We're not just a shipper we're family." GMT (Galactic Marksmanship Tournaments) would like to invite all of the sponsors and competitors to our closing ceremonies and awards presentation tomorrow, Sunday at 12:30 Game Time (that's noon thirty) at Bonadan's Commercial District's Half Moon Hotel and Casino. The Competition is still on for some hours so announcing the winners is premature but here is what you've really been waiting for the prize lists. For each of the three event categories the prize pool is: 1st 30K + Merr-Sonn Weapon, Field Armor & NovaCom Droid 2nd 20K + Merr-Sonn Weapon & Field Armor 2nd 15K (each for tie) + Merr-Sonn Weapon & Field Armor 3rd 10K + Merr-Sonn Weapon 3rd 7.5 K (Each for tie) + Merr-Sonn Weapon 4th 5K 5th+ 2k See you at Half Moon Casino.=========================== TinyPlots ============================
Marksmanship Standings The Inaugural Merr-Sonn/NovaCom Open Marksmanship Competition, is proud to name the following sponsers: Imperial Navy NovaCom Cybertronics - "Intelligent Electronics" The Coporate Sector Authority - "Building a better tomorrow" The Galactic Swoop League Fineline Spacways - "We're not just a shipper we're family." Name: Weapon: Points: Pistol Mojo IR-5 (1) 192 Scaven IR-5 (2) 186 Kizuka IR-5 (3) 166 Collier IR-5 (3) 166 Jayce IR-5 (4) 150 Markius IR-5 (5) 148 Ang'Ang M44 (6) 137 Dyne Kylan-3 (7) 136 Boba_Fett DY-255 (8) 131 Athena Kylan-3 (9) 125 Devron MX Heavy (10) 75 Rifle Dyne AA-8 (1) 156 Boba_Fett EKX-10 (2) 152 Mojo G8 (3) 151 Collier AA-8 (3) 151 Kizuka ST-II (3) 151 Jayce Bi-Polar (4) 141 Scaven EKX-10 (5) 139 Markius AA-8 (6) 129 Athena EKX-10 (7) 118 Tarrin Bi-Polar (8) 91 Tracer E-11 (9) 89 Practical Mojo IR-5 (1) 145 Collier IR-5 (2) 131 Tarrin Bi-Polar (3) 110 Dyne Kylan-3 (4) 86 Athena EKX-10 (5) 54 The Galactic Marksmanship Tournaments: "We set the standard in Marksmanship" ============================================================================== [Pallando:] Pallando passes behind Athena and drags a caressing hand acorss her back as he passes his eyes well aware of what the slit dress does and does not reveal, "Audio amplifaction dorids ready?" He asks as if ready to get under way. [Mojo:] The casino, alive with activity... laser lights... swarming with people of all types... you'd hardly notice the entrance of the lupine-like creature known as Mojo, dressed in the same battle-ready gear as always, as he comes in through one of the back doors. Dim red eyes survey the area, narrowing angrily as they catch a laser light reflecting off a mirror. The 'werewolf' of sorts quietly lingers beside the door for a moment... watching and patiently observing. Athena eeeks and turns around on her heels to hit the man who just dared to touch her but as she sees Pall standing behind her she stopps in her motions and just smiles at the man, "Oh You ... next time better speak first and then touch or you might taste me fist." she chuckles in good mood and grins offering her right hand to the man as she answers his question, "Of course, everything ready as you want it." [Prashk:] Prashk desends the staircase from his room, looking entirely differnt then the last time he entered the lobby. He's dressed in a rather expensive looking suit. He tugs at his gloves and looks around, hoping to spot Mr. Pallando from the slots last night. Prashk Before you is your typical male Bothan, easy to lose in a crowd. His age is tough to pin down, looking to be somewhere in his 30's. Around 5'7" at the tip of his ears, never slouching, always carrying himself in a military way. By no degree extremely muscular, Prashk prefers stealth and agility to brute force. His fur is a sandy brown, going more cream at the extremities. His facial features combine the terran looks of a camel and feline. Deep-set eyes are mismatched, one green and piercing, the other silver and electronic. His right ear has multiple piercings, decorated with seven assorted colored hoops. The tip of his chin features a short grey-black beard, neatly trimmed. His hair is also grey-black, sectioned into two tails, one hanging over each shoulder. Prashk, deciding to be the life of the party has changed to somthing more stylish then his usual drab attire. Dressed in fine suit of metallic midnight blue, with streaks of multicolor thread weaved throught. The suit's tunic is belted at the waist with a black belt with a silver buckle. Upon his hands are a pair of plain black leather gloves, contrasting the extravagence of the outfit. The suits metallic pantlegs are tucked into his boots, knee-high well shined boots of black leather. Hanging about his neck, secured with a small golden clasp is a fine black cape, the inside lined with red mettalic material, stitched with swirls in black thread. No holsters or weapons are visible, Prashk having checked them with the hotel for the party. [Kizuka:] Sipping at his drink, Kizuka glances around the room, savouring it's delicious flavour and alcoholic zing. His eyes flicker over the gathering.. Hmm.. There's Ernie.. he must talk with him later. And.. he can't help but raise an eyebrow at the woman next to him. Definately a fine specimen.. Intriguing. [Pallando:] Pallando just smiles confidently, taking her hand and gracing it with his lips as if some core coutier, "Excellent Countess. Only you oculd turn Bonadan into anything resembling Coruscant or Dreven, nice work." He lingeringly lets go her hand as he moves to the raised platforms and the hovering mic droids collate to amplify his voice through out the room, "Well we did it didnt we? The first Galatci Marksmanship Competition." THe band dies down playing under now. "I'd like to specficly thank you our shooters for making this dream possible. A large thanks also goes to our hosts NovaCom and Merr-sonn and our generous sponsors, The Imperial navy, The Corporate Sector Authoroty & FineLine Spaceways." He appaulds lightly. Athena fills in the applause , clapping softly her hands together as she curiously looks around wondering who else comes to the after-contest party. Her good mood about the fifth rank in the practical contest drives her even to put two fingers in her mouth and loudly whistles to underline Palls' speech. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and spots Pallando thru the crowd as he moves up onto the platform. He starts slipping thru the crowd, hoping to beable to meet him when he comes off the stage. He stops long enough to grab one of those awful fruit drinks off a passing tray and pay, before continuing to slip thru the crowd. He stops next to Athena, listening to Pallando speak, and sips his drink, ugh...what they consider drinks in this place. [Mojo:] The all but unnoticed form of Mojo quietly observes the words of Pallando, the speaker, with attentive reverence. Listens, mind you, to the words.... his attentive #-1 FUNCTION (ANDI) NOT FOUND continue to observe the area... black nosed snout twitching and scanning the overwhelming scents in the place. A thought passes through his mind as as furry creature passes infront of him without an 'excuse me'... o O (Wookies don't shower nearly enough) [Kizuka:] Speeches. Aren't they fun? Sipping on his ale, before downing it in a single smooth motion, feeling it burn it's way down into his stomach. "Hmm.. get on with it, Pallando.." He comments, as he reaches out for another drink. All along, he keeps his eyes upon Athena. Really, she seems to be quite something. As the speech continues, he begins to move a little closer to the couple. In fact, one could almost call it a saunter. [Pallando:] Pallando pauses for the light applause to die out, "Dont worry I realsie this is not the GC senate floor and I am not going to spend long yapping here." He winks at the collection of shis in the crowd Mojo in particular at his yapping crack. "I'd like to start by honoring our Praicital shooters. We are honoring 1st through 5th places tonight. I'd like to call thier names and let them stand or wave in recognition. After I have finihsed with all the honors announcements prizes wil lbe able to be registered for at the pize table." He indicates it near the bith quartet. "For practrical lasting event 5th went to Athena Thistleborn, 4th Dyne Haederfeld, 3rd Tarrin Stardiver, 2nd Collier Venine and first Fenris "Mojo" Wolfenstein." He appaulds them all. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and listens to Pallando, being sure to give the name of Athena an extra loud ammount of applause. He just met her today at the Arena, but she seems nice and definatly deserves it. He also applauds the name of Mojo, Impressed by his standings in the match. [Mojo:] At the mentioning of his name, "Mojo" remains in the middle of the crowd, beside an exit door, against the wall. To those who turn their gaze to him, the Shistavanen returns his attentive dim red eyes. To those who don't know who to look for at the mentioning of his name, the "wolf man" gives no sign. He is apparently not a fan of attention... in truth, he didn't come here for money or awards... just sport. He's mostly wolf... he lives for the Hunt. Athena blushes as her name is mentioned and she raises her right hand to wave to the crowd like a queen to her people. Even a few quiet "thank you, thank you." are audible from Athena as she enjoys the attraction she creates in the room, but relaxes again as she other names are mention and manages to show a respectful bow of her head to Mojo. [Kizuka:] Kizuka applauds a little as the names are read out, sounding a little louder as Dyne is mentioned. For while he may have a friendly rivalship with the naval officer, an Imperial award is always good. His deep blue eyes pass across the crowd, before returning to Athena's form. Ah, so that was her name. Jolly good. [Pallando:] Pallando lets the applause carry on as long as it likes before moving on, "In the Rifle event we are awarding through 10th palce but I will only name those ranked in the frist 3 positions. In 3rd place three way tie between Collier Venine, Fenris Wolfenstein & Camrath Kizuka. Second to Team Merr-Sonn captain, Boba Fett. First place went to Dyne Haederfeld with some impressive marksmanship." He motions for those present to rise in acknowledgement and then appaulds them. "And a healthy round of applausse to all our Rile winners!" [Prashk:] Prashk smiles as he hears Athena's voice right next to him, when she's announced and turns, bowing slightly to her. "Why hello again." He looks her over and his smile widens. "My my, you look just ravishing in that dress my dear." He quiets again as Pallando continues, not wishing to interupt. [Mojo:] Mojo, the wolfman in near one of the side doors, does a decent job of keeping the nearby folk away from him. Knowing who he is would be one reason... simply seeing the feral look he gives to those who get too close is another. Horrendously obvious, this is not his most comfortable scene. He gives no applause to the names... some would see it as a sign of disrespect... other, more pure sportspeople, might understand it as a silent acknowledgement. For most people in the room, shooting is just a hobby... for others it's their daily bread. No one claps for daily bread. Athena whistles and calls loudly "Yuhuuu" as the applause sounds the room, "Was a nice show!" Athena calls, not carin does she acts - like always - not very lady-like, spilling even some of her drinks at the persons in her near as she claps her hands to heavy. Athena turns astonished as she is directly addressed and smiles at the compliment "Well thank you, I may not be the best to shoot, but I do know whats in to wear!" she grins widely. [Kizuka:] A faint smirk appears on Kizuka's lips, as he adjusts his uniform proudly as his own position is read out. Chuckling, he turns and moves over to get another drink, having already finished his second. That done, he moves over towards the woman he noticed. "Why, I'd certainly agree there." The man comments, dipping his head in a quiet greeting to the woman, before smiling. "And I thought the most beautiful sight in this competition was a well shot target." A faint wink. Sargent arrives from the Business District. Sargent has arrived. [Pallando:] Once the applause crests Pallando continues, "For Pistol again we are awarding the top ten places but I shall in intersts of time name only the top three seats. In thrid a tie again Collier Venine and & Camrath Kizuka, Second another Team Merr-Sonn Competitor Auditor Genernal Scaven Marks. And first place and highest score event wide goes to dead eyed Mojo, Fenris Wolfenstien." He smiles broadly holding his hands wide in grand gesture to the competitors and then joins in the appaluse. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and chuckles at her mannerisms, impressed how she acts how she wants, no matter if it's ladylike or not. He strokes his furry beard and and nods, speaking softly to her as Pallando continues. "That you do, sadly myself I don't know fashion that well, so I expect I look rather garish." He fiddles with the clasp to his cape. Upon hearing the human move up behind them he turns and bows deeply to him, smiling. "Hello Sir, having a pleasent time I trust?" [Mojo:] Looking to the speaker as the 'dead eye' comment is made, Fenris "Mojo" Wolfenstein dips his head in brief gesture of acknowledgement and appreciation towards Pallando. This will be the only offering he makes to anyone in appreciation or congratulations during the entire evening... lending the small action considerable weight for it's size. The werewolf-like creature remains in it's relatively tactical position by the side door. Athena 's face just beams at all the compliments she recieves nodding at the two man, as she claps a last time for the winners of the pistol shooting lettng the two men their discussion while she sips on her clear drink , watching over the edge of her glass the strange apperance of the pistol winner. [Pallando:] Pallando smiles as he sees Sargent in the crowd and indaictes her, "Before closing the Competion and dancing the afternoon away to this wonderfuly catered Dragon of Coruscant event I thinkwe all owe a warm thank you to head competition offical Miss Eva Sargent." He beams for her leading an applause, "Nice tournament people I'll look forward to seeing you all at Bespin in two months. Keep sharp." He grins and motions for the band to strike up again as he moves off the platform and near the prize registration table. [Kizuka:] An alien. Ah. Kizuka's eyes narrow just a little, before he tilts his head at the bothan. "As pleasant as could be, without taking the first place." He replies with a slighty smirk, before addressing the both of those in this little group. "Congratulations on your practical score, ma'am." He comments with a smile. "I missed my chance to enter that, unfortunately." Paro arrives from the Business District. Paro has arrived. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and spots Pallando moving of the stage, and bows to Athena and Kizuka. "I need to speak with Pallando, if you would excuse me a moment." He bows again and then turns, slipping thru the crowd to intercept Mr. Pallando as he heads to the prize registration table. He smiles and strokes his beard, fiddles with his capes clasp, and makes himself presentable. "Ahh, Mr. Pallandro!." He bows deeply to him as he finally reaches him. "Pleasent evening I trust, I told you I would be here." [Pallando:] Pallando smiles in recognition of Prashk, "Aye and it is good to see you. I dont see our esteemed Merr-Sonn CEO about but I am sure he's just being fashionably late not wanting to draw attention to his important part in all this. You bothans get so embarrsed at public funcitons." He teases. [Sargent:] Singled out in the back of the crowd, having just arrived, Sargent stands with all the poise of a stemmed rose, smiling graciously to those who look her way. The floral effect, which includes the light coolness she radiates, as if she's been stuck in an icebox to preserve the petals, is only contrasted with the datapad she carries. Behind her, a couple of NovaCom guys manhandle a durasteel crate. Cernious arrives from the Business District. Cernious has arrived. Cernious Before you is a male Bothan, possibly by his race's standards at the age of forty five standard years. His fur is well kept as he stands at the height of 5'8". His fur varies in color from an almond color at the head to tampering to a blonde at his hands. His eyes are a deep green color. His nose is elongated and elegant, A long beard runs down is would-be chin and is neatly braided as it flows down to his stomach. His right ear is pierced atleast a dozen times, a stream of golden rings line it in a fine order. His gaze is that of power, and his face carries an arrogance only seen in the higher ranges of the work of politics. His clothing is brisk, powerful, and business like. A pair of beautifully hand-crafted nerf-hide leather dress shoes rest neatly upon his feet. Shined to a perfection. A pair of fine pressed black trousers run up his legs held firmly by a black nerf-hide leather belt. A black silk dress shirt is neatly tucked into the trousers and a red tie is tied neatly around his neck. Upon his body is a black blazer with the MerrSonn seal upon it , donned proudly. When the weather is cold he typically has a dress-styled trench coat. He typically is seen wearing a black top hat and white gloves. A key-note to his dress is a cane. The handle is in the shape of a predator known to Bothawaui. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => M44 Blaster Pistol => DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and nods, chuckling. "Yes, just a downfall of our race. It's fine when compared to our strengths though." He looks down at his suit and hmms, stroking his furry beard. "Which fashion sense doesn't appear to be one of mine. I must look just garish, don't I." He chuckles and plays with the capes clasp. "I don't see Mr. Fett, I assume he's not the party type...ehh?" [Paro:] With a rhythmical clicing of bootheels on the tarmac outside the hotel, Paro enters the establishment with a rigid composure of someone belonging to a completely different world. His pristinely kept black uniform of stormtrooper command is usually flanked by the infamous shock-troops in white, but if such soldiers of the Emperor have made it with him onto this corporate world, they are perhaps waiting elswhere. This is a man of strong self-confidence, unbending in his stance and rather unhealthy in the degree of self-control. Yet a certain fluid grace can be spotted in his behavior... nurtured by the upper echelons of good Coruscanti upbringing and offset with a strong sense of manners. [Paro:] Upon entry, the officer scans the crowd with the vigilant, icy gaze that accompanies his unsmiling face, and notices Kizuka present among the guests. Without much ado, he sets in the direction of the man, weaving through the people in a path that is more or less straight. [Pallando:] Pallando maintains an appologetci smile for Parshk, "He's very reclusive. I've not actualy even met him. I was tihnking though. He's a name and even though he didnt sweep it for Merr-Sonn his name alone liekly drew a crowd and will for Bespin." Jax arrives from the Business District. Jax has arrived. Jax Jax is a little taller than average humans, but he wouldn't be much to look at. By simple looks of it, you would guess he weighs about 200 lbs., but he isn't that fat. You could tell that he's a spacer, totally. The rough looks he gives everyone, tells you that he isn't that friendly. He has a short stubbly beard, and ice cold eyes. He wears a black leather bomber jacket, on the back of there is a red circle and a red line going diagonally through it, with the Imperial logo in the middle of it, as if saying no to the Impire. He has dark green cargo pants and a waist holster that is currently empty and worn out. He wears a white undershirt that needs to be washed and by the smell and his looks, he needs to be washed too. And finally he wears black army boots, with an ankle holster for a vibroknife. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest Athena's lips pouts as Pall is leaded into a different direction, she smirks and takes another sip from her drink as she lets the men talk about the bussines, but as the conversation goes about Fett, she can'T stop herself from bursting out, "He had only 8 points more than me..." she states with proud. [Mojo:] Beside one of the less trafficked doorways, the lupine form of Mojo continues to observe the ongoing events... scouting... as if not precisely a part of the scene, but just outside of it, waiting and watching. Raising a wrist-strapped comlink to just below his mouth, the Shistavanen quietly speaks some words in a foreign tongue. After a moment or two, three other "wolfmen" emerge from other 'out of the way' doors, all wearing light armor and equipped with 'light' weaponry... similar to Mojo. Like a pack, the four wolves move from different points in the room... towards the prize registration table. Apparently, they are here on a mission... most likely to collect Mojo's winnings. [Prashk:] Prashk perks a brow at Paro as he enters, eyeing the smug Imperial officer. He turns his attentions back to Pallando smiling. "So, when do I get to meet this fine CEO you spoke of. You know I just love to hobknob with the upper crust. People like you are so facinating." He smiles and looks to the prize table. "Door prizes?" He smirks a bit, inquiring on what the deal is. He turns and applauds Athena. "And a good job you did there, I think ole Mr. Fett has lost his edge." [Cernious:] The doors open to bring forth Cernious and his aids as they walked in parading if you will. A few dozen aids following the bothans and an equal number of armed bodyguards. Each men almost dressed exactly alike in their trademakr blacksuits and red ties, that the bothan had demanded them begin to wear. His eyes turned toward the crowd as he moved forward in the general direction of Pallando. His walk was swift and his aggrogance could be tasted in the air, "Mr. Pallando!" he said his voice audibly loud, "How good is it to seee you!" he smiled softly, "How did you like Merr-Sonn's champion during these events?" Jax leaves for the Business District. Jax has left. [Kizuka:] Rather surprised as the woman stalks off in the midst of talking to him, he shrugs. "Bah, Boba Fett is nothing to be so terrified of. Any man can be a legend when wearing Mandalorian armour." He shrugs a little, before casting his head about at the arrival of the multiple shistavanens. Remembering an incident at another party he attended, his hand lightly rests upon his pistol butt, before he notices Paro, and his face spreads in a smile. Good- his protege made it along. [Sargent:] With her deep brown eyes, Sargent quietly surveys the crowd. There's Pallando, the social wizard, working his magic. She would join him and say hello, but now is not the best time. Eva has a job to do, and she doesn't mind being on the periphery of the crowd at all. There is a function for every person in this universe, and she is acutely aware of what her is at this moment. She heads over to the prize table and exchanges a few words with the staff. Then she turns to face the crowd again, businesslike as ever. The awards table is open for business. [Mojo:] Number one on the list at the table, Fenris "Mojo" Wolfenstein arrives before the prize registration table... dim red eyes scanning Sargent's form over for a moment. Snout opens and dry words slip past sharply fanged teeth... "Familar... yes... from NovaCom. Hello again." The words are calm and slow... but slightly clumsy. The creature is better suited for other tasks... less suited for civility. The trio of Shistavanen 'packmates' arrive at the prize table as well... apparently to help carry the load and ensure it's security. They form a small perimeter around Mojo, watching his flanks and rear. [Pallando:] Pallando motions to the table beside him with clerks taking down winners acount numbers and where they'd like thier droids weapons and armor shiped too or picked up from. "Door prizes now there is a thought but no its too arrange how the winners will receive thier prises." He waves to Cernious, "And here is the LATE and estemeed CEO. Cernious This is Prashk Rev'lya, a home world political supporter of yours. Prashk, Mr Vry'lya of Merr-Sonn." He smiles to Athena and to Sargent that hte armor has arrived. [Paro:] To someone in his field, people and their movements are seldom ignored... his piercing, cold gaze seemingly never too tired to use its peripheral vision on a mission to attest the vicinity. It is perhaps no surprise that when Mojo's men flood the corners of the room, Paro lifts his head in a cautious manner, one of a military commander attesting to any potential danger and the swiftest way to neutralize it. Yet nothing comes of this cautious interlude, and even the look that Mojo himself receives is devoid of any specific meanings. This one is perhaps confident enough in the local security to do the job of protecting everyone inside the casino, although given the branch of his work and the rather famous disposition that goes with it, that is highly doubtful. [Paro:] Upon reaching Kizuka and quickly realizing that the man has a companion whom he is speaking to, the officer nods his head in a curt, military but respectful fashion, forgoing a salute due to the very formal gala but gracing his superior with a quick, "Sir." He then stands in place, turns and observes, as if more intrigued with who is here and how they behave than actual interraction with anyone present. [Cernious:] Cernious smiles toward Pallando, as his aides wheeled in the late gifts that will be awarded to the winners of this fine tournamnet, "Thank you Mr. Pallando.." the bothan smiled. As he ordered his men to move the items to the tables and such. Turnning toward Prashk with much interest, "Gettings botha cousin.. It is an honor to meet any supporter from the homeworld.. " he smiled softly, "I have been pondering for all to long about running for a senate.." he smiled softly, "What brings you to bonadan?" Athena smiles and nods back to Kizuka, "Well thats true, but not _any man_ just as a Mandalorian armour. Please excuse me for a moment, I think they just opened the prize table and don't want somebody else get my money." she grins and rubs her hands, nodding to the other men to excuse her leave. [Prashk:] Prashk ohs and smiles, looking over the prize table. "Perhaps an idea for Bespin's tournament, ehh Mr. Pallando." He chuckles and turns twords Cernious when Pallando mentions him. A wide friendly smile crosses Prashk's face and he bows deeply to Cernious. "Greetings and well met, Mr. Vry'lya. Pallando speaks very highly of you, and it is a great honor of mine to finally meet you." He extends a hand to Cernious as he straightens up. "Oh, I came in for the tournament, but the damn charter shuttle service got me in last evening." He snorts softly. "See if I fly with them again." [Sargent:] Sargent's heart might begin to beat faster at the sight of a pack of toothy Shistavanens, if it could, but years of discipline and training keep her biological responses, and her composure, under control. The rose gives Mojo a face that is pleasantly calm, and sculpted out of deep foundations. Good day, Mr. Wolfenstein." She consults her datapad. "For you is 67.5 credits, three blasters, 2 sets of field armor, and 2 droids. Instructions will be sent to you regarding the blasters and droids, and I can give you the money and armor now, if you wish." [Kizuka:] "Oh, only on the condition that you return to chat a little more when you've claimed it, ma'am. And.. I should really do the same." Kizuka repies to Athena, with a smile and a slightly flirtatious wink. Then, as Paro approaches and addresses him, he is offered a warm greeting. For here, at least, the men are off duty, and Kizuka, at least, can treat his captain as the equal he considers him. "Vorn- It's good to see you here. Though I must admit, I'm surprised that you didn't enter the competition yourself. Between you, me and the Commodore, we could have swept the board." A cheerful chuckle at the thought. [Pallando:] All those around him now in converstaion amonst themslves Pallando takes the opportunity to slip away. He passes behind Sargent and kisses top of her head whispering some things to her before moving on disappearing among the crowd before he embarresses her too much in front of the wolf pack. [Pallando:] Pallando has disconnected. Athena moves over to the prize table, getting herself in the line of the waiting persons there, not wanting to push herself to far to the top of the row, while she patiently sips on her drink. [Cernious:] Cernious nods softly, "It is also a pleasure Mr. Rev'lya.. so do you plan to compete or watch these fine games? [Mojo:] Dim Red Eyes, from Mojo, look down to Sargent where she sits at the prize table.... and three other sets of dim red eyes, from the trio of Shistavanen 'werewolves' keep a keen awareness on the ongoing event. The pack is controlled and dutiful... having the objective of retrieving the winnings and departing. No malice glares forth from their eyes, or their fangs... besides, the hairless aliens in this room taste foul... their meat is spoiled from their overeating and overdrinking. They are not worthy prey. Mojo nods slowly to the words of Sargent... the rose. Dry words speak forth, "The credits and the armor, we will take now." He pauses and adds, "The rest we will pickup at Caspar when they are prepared." [Cernious:] Cernious nods softly, "It is also a pleasure Mr. Rev'lya.. so do you plan to compete or watch these fine games?" the bothan raised a brow toward his bothan companion as he spoke of his poor trip here. Cernios rubbed his beard softly and nodded, "Public transportation is not what it use to be.. " he said curtly, "But I will get one of my men to look into a better company if you'd like." The Merr-Sonn bodyguards examined the grounds with keen sense as most of their attention was directed toward the shist, their hands resting on their rifles with a cold sense of what they must do should they get out of hand. Cernious grabbed a drink of a floating tray, he need something with a punch, "Ah.. nothing like a good class of choholl to make you smile is there Mr. Rev'lya?" [Paro:] Paro is a man who is seemingly never off-duty, as his full uniform, stern behavior and a rather forbodding appearance would attest to. Yet Kizuka may be correct, this is hardly a place for any official posturing, and even if the man does not fully relax, he does grace his superior with a smile. "Perhaps," his voice is surprisingly smooth and melodic, bearing in its tone some sing-song quality of the upper Coruscanti echelons, "But I like to save my skills for the field. Given how I am often in it in person, I prefer the enemy not knowing their degree." [Paro:] The slight humor that accompanies the statement is perhaps a bit forced... Paro may actually fully subscribe to what he just said. Yet as his eyes land on the Bothan couple near the Prex, the officer clasps his hands behind his back and titls his head to the right, casting a perplexed gaze upon the nature of the gathering, "Say, isn't that the new Merr-Sonn CEO there with the Prex? This may be a good time to ask him why so many Merr-Sonn weapons end up in the hands of criminals, lately..." [Prashk:] Prashk smiles to Cernious, withdrawing the offered hand. He strokes his furry beard, listening to Cernious closely. "Oh no, well...Pallando suggests that maybe I should compete in the Bespin tourney. But, I don't have a sponser, or decent blasters at the moment, so I rather doubt that It would be worth my expense." He smiles a bit at the offer to find a better company. "That would be wonderful, nothing to expensive now, not everyone is a CEO after all. He smirks and looks to the glass. "I don't know, it's been sometime since I've had it." [Kizuka:] "You and I both, Paro. But surely, fear of sharpshooting Imperials can't do us any harm in future engagements." A faint chuckle, before looking back towards the group of dignitaries. "Captain, on my recommendation, this would definately NOT be the best occasion.. a scene of any sort at this point could be very harmful in many ways." He pauses, and shakes his head. "Today is a day for people to let their hair down without fear of being strangled with it, after all. And.. well, we are but two Imperials here that I can see. Really, making trouble would not be good." [Sargent:] "Very well then. Mr. Wolfenstein's awards, please," Sargent orders over her shoulder at the staff behind her. The durasteel crate has been gradually trasnported to the tableside, and two of the staff open it, revealing the rach of Field Armors inside. Also, another man opens up a secured safe, drawing out one of the pre-prepared credit chits and handing it to Sargent. This in turn she hands directly to Mojo while two sets of the armor are wrestled out of the crate and handed to Mojo's companionns. "With a smile, she says "Again, congratulations." Efficient. [Cernious:] Cernious nods softly placing his free hand upon Prashk's shoulder, the bothan smiled softly, "Compete you say.." the bothan nodded softly, "Merr-Sonn has sponsered a few competitors..we can sponser a bothan that is for certain!" he raised his voice smiling. He directed one of the servers to hand Prashk a class of what he was drinking, "You just tell me what you need cousin.. and we will see to it.." the bothan's clan system required Cernious look at all bothans as relatives and it was the best political face to put on in his taste. Sargent gives Mojo some Standard Galactic Credits. Cernious gives Sargent a M44 Blaster Pistol. Cernious gives Sargent a DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol. Being finally on the end of the row Athena smiles down at Sargent and nods, "Greetings Miss, well I was told that there would be even a little bit for me." she grins, "Wont be enough to pay even the costs for this dress here, but anyhow it was fun. I will be there the next time as well!" [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and bows his head lightly to Cernious. "I might do just that then, of course I have to make sure I am able to make the Bespin tourney. Would be a shame to sign up and then get pulled away with other matters." He smiles and strokes his beard. "Though, how can one pass up being on the same team as Mr. Fett, that would truely be quite an honor indeed." He chuckles ands accepts the glass, taking a sip. "Oh, now that's a taste I've not had in some time, thank you, Sir." He sips the drink again, enjoying the fine smooth taste. [Paro:] "I hardly had a scene in mind, sir," Paro replies with the touch of the previous humor, even if his straight body does not lend itself to anything satirical, "Just a polite conversation that may have some of my questions answered. But you are correct. Another time. Perhaps a private visit would be much more effective." As if forgetting the subject immediately, the black-clad Imperial lifts his head and scans the exquisite chandeliers, the vaulted ceiling, running his eyes on the quality of the edifice and the rather unique and ceremonial splendor that surrounds the participants of the gala. [Paro:] "This is quite a hotel," the officer muses quietly to his companion, "I only hope that once the Selene casino opens we'll be treated to similar grandeur. Say... what is the prize that you are collecting here?" Slipping past the Imperial pair, a waitress tempts the men with a selection of local drinks. Perhaps out of the respect for the uniform, or perhaps due to some other personal conviction, the refreshment that Paro partakes in has no alcoholic content, but is - the the nature of its refreshing quality - colorful and decorated enough to blend well with others in use. [Mojo:] The furred Shistavanen, dressed completely in paradoxical outfit for this formal occasion, stands before the prize registration. Unhindered paws adjust their grip on the floor underfoot... footclaws gently scraping at the material underfoot. With wolfish attentiveness, Mojo observes the motions of the NovaCom staff... the revelation of the armor... and the appearance of the credit chits. Extending an empty, furry, clawed hand to Sargent and taking the credit chit from her... Fenris "Mojo" Wolfenstein inspects it for only a moment before concealing it within his suit of armor. The Shistavanen nods to two of his packmates, who reach forth and take the bundles of field armor from the NovaCom employees... the armor they place into prepared carry bags that they sling over their shoulders. Mojo looks to Sargent once more and intones, "You will hear from me shortly regarding the rest. Thank you for your time." Simple, perhaps lacking some of the finer points of etiquette that will be displayed tonight... but it gets the job done. [Cernious:] Cernious smiled softly toward Prashk, "Consider it done.. prehaps you can spend some time on Etti IV and we will arrange such things ..for your competition.." the bothan leaned back softly stretching and taking a drink of his Coholl, "Lets find a table.." he said gesturing to one nearby. The bothan tapped an earpiece on his ear seeking any information his aids might have to him through the crowd they were dispersed in, none came back. The bothan was satisfied and took a seat at the table beconning Prashk to join him. [Sargent:] Something flashes on Sargent's datapad moments before another durasteel crate can be sen rolling in, this one guided by people who are obviously in Merr-Sonn garb. "Just a moment..." Eva's eyes flit down to the pad, and her fingers fly as she reads the file that was zapped to her. Looking up like lightning again, Sargent tries to catch Mojo's eyes with her own. "I just received word that the blasters have arrived. If you can wait a moment, I'll be right with you again." In the meantime, she turns to Athena. "Yes, ma'am. 6000 credits I believe." In the background, another credit chit is pulled out of the safe and handed to Eva. She passes it to Athena. Banking Functions Object gives Sargent some Standard Galactic Credits. Sargent gives you 6000 Standard Galactic Credits. [Kizuka:] "Well, I'm here to collect third in both rifle and pistol categories. By my reckoning, it's worth at least ten thousand credits and a fistful of weapons." He laughs a little, before tossing his head. "I was sure I'd won the rifle category, but the Commodore scored four points over me. I'll have to have a private shoot-out with him another time, to make sure I've not lost my touch." Taking another ale of his own, Kizuka takes a deep draught, before nodding towards the wolves. "Really, I think it's a bit of a liberty letting those canines compete. They're almost feral.. think of the risk to everyone else.." He comments beneath his breath. "But whatever. At least between us, Imperial pride has been maintained." Looking towards the female collecting her prize, he muses a little, changing the subject. "I wonder who that lady is. I was watching her shoot- seemed rather good for an aristocrat. And she seems familiar, somehow." [Prashk:] Prashk tugs at the clasp to his cape, looking around at all the fancy suits and unifroms. "Seeing most everyone in uniforms and fine clothing, makes me feel quite self conscious. I dare say that I wasn't born with your fine taste in clothing, Mr. Vry'lya." He smiles and nods, following Cernious over to a table and sitting, to discuss this more. And also to relax. He holds the cape at both sides as he sits, making sure to sit on it and not leave it hanging off on the ground. "So tell me, Sir. What do you know about that impressive shooter Mojo, I dare say that he's quite the up and coming talent after this tournament." [Cernious:] Cernious nods softly toward Prashk, "Your dress is fine Mr. Rev'lya.. " he smiled softly as the bothan picked up a menu and skimmed through it before placing it back on the table, "This Mojo you speak off..I am not sure .. I didn't have the honor of watching him shoot.. but my sources speak highly of him, to the point to being a potiential person to hire in the future.. " the bothan shrugged softly, "Tournaments like this allow me to keep my eye on talent one might need in the future.." Athena returns a polite smile to Sargent, "Thanx a lot Miss." she simply says and leaves the prize table finding an unbelievable place to slip her credit chip into her dress and moves back into the crowd, heading mostly to the music band, her head rocking to the beat. [Mojo:] The wolves turn their attention to Kizuka as the hairless creature makes mention of their breed. Ears twitching to absorb his words, black noses wrinkling to imprint his very scent in their memories for all time, and dim red eyes constricting to memorize his features... the wolves have picked up a new scent. A potential new prey. Their appearances remain neutral... no growling... no fangs barred. Comments that were made are now understood. Comments now unspoken bear a much greater weight... and their echo is much longer. The kind that wakes you up in the middle of the night. A silent understanding. Mojo looks down to Sargent, paying no heed to weightless words behind him... remaining transfixed on the objective. Only his packmates monitor Kizuka... Mojo remains focused on the prizes. "We will acquire the weaponry at Caspar... unless it is prepared at this moment. We have pressing... engagements... elsewhere." Sargent gives Mojo a DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol. [Prashk:] Prashk peeks thru a menu himself, stroking his beard as he listens closely to Cernious. "Thanks, I'll prefer after this party is over, and I can slipback into my normal attire." He nods, absorbing what Cernious knows about this Mojo charecter. "He's facinating, I dare say not to be rude. But you should dump Fett and go with Mojo, but Pallando tells me that you have him booked for the season, oh well...hopefully he won't disapoint at Bespin." He smiles and hmmms. "Pallando also says your intrested in gaining a seat in the senate, I do hope so. We need more fine beings like you, get rid of those bloody corrupt ones." [Sargent:] Sargent follows the second durasteel crate to the table with her eyes. "I understand. Of course, sir. They are right here." Wasting no time, Sargent holsters har datapad under one armpit, freeing both hands to lift two of the blasters out of her crate herself the momeht it is opened. One of the Merr-Sonn fellows helps by getting out a third blaster. Sargent passes hers to Mojo himself and the MS guy passes the third blaster to the third packmate. "Congratulations," she says again to Mojo. "And congratulations to you as well, ma'am," she calls to Athena's departing form. [Paro:] Momentarily subdued in his own bubble of melancholy, as if withdrawing himself from the proceedings to contemplate something very private, Paro weaves his glassine stare between certain people in the area, squinting faintly for a sharper view as his eyes pass over the Shistavanen. "I suppose there is only one way to find out, sir," the officer suddenly wakes up, lifting his head and straightening his stance, as his eyes enliven and land on Athena of whom Kizuka just spoke. "I don't suppose it could hurt in any fashion." [Paro:] Clearly, the plight of those gathered here is determined for the next few hours... most patrons staying to enjoy the glamorous enclosure of Bonadan's most famous hotel, and any social interraction seems rather in place. Himself, Paro adjusts the grip of his hands behind his back, still engaging half his mind in the same thoughts that appear to be insistent in their presence. "And congratulations on your prizes," the officer adds almost immediately, "I must say that the opportunities in the Corporate Sector have always been very high in terms of monetary gains." [Kizuka:] "It should be helpful, to say the least. Though it'll take a lot for the weapons they give me to take the place of my IR-5." Kizuka replies, locking his eyes on the shistavanens for a moment or two, judging them as foes now, as opposed to simple competitors. Pausing for a moment, he smiles to Paro. "Excuse me a moment, Captain.. I'd best pick my goodies up." He laughs a little, his gaze flicking between Athena and the puppies. Fighting the temptation to yell out 'SIT' across the room, he wanders down into the dancefloor. [Mojo:] The Alpha, Mojo, accepts the offered heavy blaster from Sargent and passes it on to one of his packmates. The lupine looks back to Sargent... monitoring her for a long moment. He gives her a simple nod, nothing more. Turning, Mojo makes eye contact with each of his companions... one by one in turn. No words are spoken. Silently, with padded paws pushing them onward, the four wolves makes their way from the prize table to the nearest 'out of the way' exit... caring nothing for the regalness of the event. They did not come here to hobnob with the rich and famous... only for the sport... the Hunt. That having been completed, the wolves depart... one by one... each watching out for each other. More in tune with each other than any Imperial Relay Interface could ever make a group of Stormtroopers. Sometimes, Mother Nature is the best manufacturer... after all. Mojo leaves for the Business District. Mojo has left. Dyne arrives from the Business District. Dyne has arrived. Athena adjusts the fits of her dress which moves at every of her steps, feeling a little bit lost in the room, although its filled with persons in various outfits and even with familiar imperial ones. Athy steps from one foot to the other, while she continues sipping on her clear drink. [Paro:] Paro nods to his superior as the man moves towards the prize booth. Himself, he seems only aware of the Shistavanen, but more in a capacity of duty, and little interested in them beyond this point. Or so it may appear. Instead, the officer takes this moment of solitude to continue his private contemplation, suddenly drawing in a lot of air as if waking up in the middle of an open field and saluting the morning with a fresh breath. He is alert, no doubt about that, dashing in his nonetheless military grace and perhaps more approachable now than he was when he first arrived. [Paro:] Drink in hand, the Imperial once again takes in the fine architecture of the casino, as if indulging in some private hobby of architecture, feeling fairly comfortable here among all the guests, even if his solitary stance does not lend itself to any social interraction at the moment. Yashar arrives from the Business District. Yashar has arrived. Yashar A tall handsome man stands before you, standing at 6'3 and over 220 lbs of pure muscle; this man stands out in a crowd. His black hair is cut short and unkempt. Expressive deep hazel eyes have an almost shy look to them as they watch the world around him. Today he has dressed himself in clothing that seems to only enhance his muscular build. He is wearing a brown leather flight jacket, under which he wears a white tunic that is tucked into a pair of brown leather pants, which fit well enough to show the tone of his hips and legs. On his feet he wears a pair of black boots. [Prashk:] Prashk hmms as he watches Mojo leave. "Facinating species, though nowhere near as evolved as us Bothans, ehh?" He chuckles softly and turns back to Cernious. "I bet that really cheesed Mr. Fett off, loosing to him ehh?" He smirks a bit, eyeing Cernious and lowers his voice. "Bout time that the galaxy saw that the human race isn't best at everything." He strokes his beard and smiles, holding up his glass to Cernious. "To Merr-Sonn corporation, may it grow in influence as well as profit." [Sargent:] After the Shistavanens leave, Sargent has one of the few true moments to herself that she's had since arriving here. But a moment is all the professional woman can really afford, or really needs. Today, she is more of a machine than anything else, mind clicking at a kiloparsec per hour with a thousand details about running two businesses, as well as a sporting event.Looking up now to survey the room, her eys drift across a couple of oficers. Imperial, obviously. Reminders of the past. Reminders of the present. ANd her mind slows, as if she has hit a gravity well. Stretched, almost frozen in time as if at h the event horizon of a black hole. She can't think, not knowing how to react to the sight. Not knowing at all. [Kizuka:] Drawing up to the prize table, and the head of the queue, Kizuka passes the time by watching Athena as she moves back and forth. Hmm.. More and more impressive. He'll have to go approach her after he's got his goodie-bag from the organisers. Finally reaching the front of the line, he nods to the person behind the desk. "Camrath Kizuka, here to pick up prizes from the Rifle and Pistol sections." [Cernious:] Cernious shrugs softly, "perhaps Mr. Fett lossed on purpose my dear friend.." he rose up, "Excuse me a moment.." the bothan smiled moving up to a microphone and attempting to get everyone's attention the bothan smiled softly, "If I could have everyone's attention for a toast.." Cernious placed his hand over the device for a moment exchanging some words with one of his assistants before leaning back up raising his glass waiting for everyone to turn his direction. The bothan lusted in attention. [Yashar:] Yashar steps into the casino, hands in his pockets as he meanders through the room. He checks his cronometer and sighs. Weaving his way through the crowd, he eventually ends up near the prize table, and seeing Sargent he smiles and gives a brief wave, but falls back some as not to bother her. [Prashk:] Prashk sips his drink and turns in his chair twords the platform as Cernious rises and moves twords it to speak. He coughs and fiddles with his cape clasp, god, how he can't wait to get out of his damn suit. He listens closely, watching Cernious in anticipation of what he will say. [Dyne:] The Imperial Commodore enters the room and quietly looks around at the surroundings. Not exactly dressed for a party, considering his dress, he'll just keep to himself, perhaps run into some fellow officers that participated in the competition. . . that would be nice. Right now, he would focus on getting his winnings. [Sargent:] Until one of them is walking her way. The movement yanks Sargent out of her mental time dilation, back into the realm of subrelativistic speeds and gravitational effects. The pupils of her deep brown eyes dilated, as if her moment in space is still reflected in her pitch black pupils, autopilot instincts kick in. Professional courtesy, always. "Of course. Lieutenant Colonel Kizuka." She reads the rank off the uniform, then refers to her datapad. "15000 credits and two blasters." In the background, the staff gets the stuff out and approaches Kizuka with it. Banking Functions Object gives Sargent some Standard Galactic Credits. Sargent gives Kizuka some Standard Galactic Credits. Sargent gives Kizuka a M44 Blaster Pistol. [Paro:] As the words flood the chamber of the speaker, Paro turns his attention to the Bothan who just stood up in front of everyone. This particular development catches him as he was just about to move somewhere else, but given the unexpected announcement, the Imperial remains frozen in spot... his face filled with the expectant waiting of someone who is curious about what is to follow. His left hand, wrapped around a drink, is resting somewhere near his belt level... floating in the mid air with the same mechanical abandon that a droid would display. [Paro:] It is then that the entrance of Dyne attract's the man attention, and despite the upcoming speech, the officer motions to the newcomer from the distance, covering the length of the floor that separates the two with a gesture meant to attract attention. Many beings pause their conversations in the chamber, turning their attentions to the being at the microphone, listening intently with anticpation and turning in their chairs when necessary, contorting their bodies in the same humorous fashion that one can see on holo-phototraphs which capture moments frozen in time. [Kizuka:] Kizuka dips his head a little in thanks as he receives his prizes. In fact, not really impressed by the archaic blasters he's provided. But hey, you can't look a gift-horse in the mouth, right? And anyway.. 15000 credits makes for a good profit. Dipping his head once more in appreciation, he then turns, and moves off towards the woman that caught his eye earlier. There is much better game afoot, for now. [Cernious:] Cernious takes a moment to breath before turning back to the microphone, "Gentlebeings..." he smiles raising his glass higher, "This indeed has been an amazing week,the competitors here showed true sportsmanship and the skill that our galaxy truely pocesses in talent..these warriors of mind and spirit deserve a toast.." the CEO took a moment, "Here are to the compeptitors! For if it were not for their efforts we would not be here today." the bothan smiled, taking a drink of his own drink. Athena turns her head from the band and looks at the low stage as Cernious helds his speech, raising her drink at the end of it in a toast and greeting before she sips on it. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and sits the glass between his legs to clap softly to the CEO's words. He then retrieves it and sips deeply, in respect and admiration to the competitors. Yes, damn shame he missed the tourney though. [Sargent:] Even though Sargent is busy at the prize table, and really not a part of the celebration save for her presence at the booth, she at least has the manners and the disposition to react to her surroundings when they affect her. She gives a "Congratulations" to Kizuka as he departs, and then spots Yashar. A small smile springs to her face and she returns his wave. Then, ever the busy lady, she looks up to pay attention to Cernious' announcement. Not having a drink in her hands, she offers sensible applause to the competitors instead. [Yashar:] Yashar moves closer to the table once Sargent is through handing out the prizes to the man and nods to her. He keeps an eye on the one speaking, waiting respectfully to speak to Sargent. [Dyne:] The Commodore spots Paro motioning to him, and immediately heads over his way . . . somewhat comforted by the fact that there are some other Imperials nearby. Upon reaching the man, he can only quietly speak, "How are you doing, Captain?" A soft nod is given to Kizuka at well, "Colonel." [Kizuka:] Collecting another drink, Kizuka raises his glass to the proposed toast, before moving to Athena. Dyne is offered a smile and a nod, before he turns his attention back to his new target. "Ma'am, you look like you could use another drink." He comments, nodding to her now drained glass. "Perhaps you might honour me by sharing a few minutes with me over one?" His voice carries an accent that is hard to place, but at the same time generically Imperial (IE upper class English). "I am Camrath Kizuka, of the IGF.. I believe we shot against one another in the pistol category?" [Cernious:] Silently the bothan steps off the dias and moves toward the door he raises a wave to Prashk and a smile. One of his aids moving over and handing him a card with directions to his office on Etti IV. Cernious' body guards move around him in a defense posture and his group marches out of the hotel in a brisk fashion. Apparently some important business has come up and has forced him to leave. Cernious leaves for the Business District. Cernious has left. [Sargent:] Sargent gives Yashar a gracious smile. "Mr. Trieal, hello. It's a pleasant surprise to see you on Bonadan." Though she is pleasant, and nice enough, she seems otherwise uneffected by the sheer bulk of the man she's meeting in person for the first time. When you have always been the smallest adult in any room, smaller even that some of the older children, you get used to it. "How is the ship working out?" [Prashk:] Prashk takes the card, slipping it into the suit. He sighs and stands, finishing his drink and leaves the table, deciding to mingle some with the other guest. He spots Athena in the crowd and crosses back acoss the floor to her, bowing to her and smiling. "Well that was an intresting meeting." [Yashar:] Yashar returns the smile, looking her over briefly, "It's nice to finally meet you in person Ma'am... The ship? It's fine, just waiting around for my cargo to be loaded, thought I'd check out the sights." he looks around the room again. Athena oohs first astonished but then quickly gets a polite smile on her face at the invitation and returns, "Well yes, sure if you could bring my a Coruscantian Table water. Officer." and extands her right hand in a greeting to the imp, "Countess Athena Thistleborn." revelaing finally her last name inpublic since years of hiding. As Prashk arrives she offers him a smile as well and softly says "oh yes, and it was worth even half of this dress, which means I have to make a better rank next time to wear another dress at the next party." she chuckles. [Dyne:] The Commodore stands in the line, actually, behind the man currently chit chating with the prize person, but takes this opportunity to look at the Captain and begin some petty conversation, "It's quite nice to be off of the ship and in such an open environment, and enjoying the competition of some of the best shots in the galaxy, is it not Captain?" [Paro:] "Greeings, sir," Paro nods his head curtly to the approaching Dyne... his black Imperial uniform sticking out in the crowd prominently but doing little to conceal his wherabouts, "I thought your duties took you back to the fleet, till I arrived on the planet and got the report from the stormtrooper sargeant about your presence here. Has your security been to your sattisfaction, Commodore?" [Paro:] Despite the formal speech of the officer, the man is fairly relaxed in this social attmosphere... enough to appear in that strange space where duty and off duty merge into a zone of comfort for someone who is seemingly never devoid of his work. Yet despite the pretense, there is still much about Paro that is official, and the presence of Dyne here, as well as that of Kizuka, is certainly a cause for being alert and vigilant. Even if one is standing in the middle of a multi-national gathering on Bonadan's finest casino. Or perhaps precisely because of it. [Sargent:] Even though, for all Sargent knows, Yashar's look is innocent, it still gives her a little twinge in her stomach. There were too many eyes, so long ago. Too many eyes. But she doesn't let it show. "Is FLS how you remember it?" she asks conversationally. "I know that we've had some personnel changes since you worked for us last. But I'm curious if you've noticed anything else. The culture, how the ship flies, things like that." [Kizuka:] "But of course, m'lady." Kizuka replies with a faint smile. One advantage of being the son of an Imperial captain- one gets used to dealing with aristocratic types. Signalling to one of the circulating waiters, the drink is rapidly delivered, while Kizuka smoothly takes her hand in his, and raises it to his lips. The scarred young officer places a chaste, and gentle kiss upon the lady's hand, dipping his head in formal greeting. "But surely, you need not spend all your winnings on such fine apparel? For why hide a diamond behind such.. earthly trappings?" If nothing else, Kizuka is a smooth talker. [Yashar:] Yashar smiles warmly and shrugs, "Seems about the same actually.. Though you are the only one I have spoken to since coming back..." he notices the man behind him and blinks.. "Oh.. Sorry.." he looks back to Sargent, "I can wait around till you are finished if you wanna talk?" he says stepping out of the way again. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and stands, his hands clasped behind his back as he listens to the coversation. He eyes the Officer and bows to him as well, smiling softly. He glances across the room to Paro, perking a ear hoping to catch what he's saying. He keeps the ear perked, but focuses his attention on Athena. "Do you intend to enter the Bespin tourney as well, sounds fun. Mr. Cernious has extended an offer for me to complete as well, for Merr-Sonn, which I am highly considering." He smirks as Kizua sweet talks the Countess, impressed by his smoothness. [Yashar:] Yashar smiles warmly and shrugs, "Seems about the same actually.. Though you are the only one I have spoken to since coming back..." he notices the man behind him and blinks.. "Oh.. Sorry.." he looks back to Sargent, "I can wait around till you are finished if you wanna talk?" he says stepping out of the way again. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and stands, his hands clasped behind his back as he listens to the coversation. He eyes the Officer and bows to him as well, smiling softly. He glances across the room to Paro, perking a ear hoping to catch what he's saying. He keeps the ear perked, but focuses his attention on Athena. "Do you intend to enter the Bespin tourney as well, sounds fun. Mr. Cernious has extended an offer for me to complete as well, for Merr-Sonn, which I am highly considering." He smirks as Kizua sweet talks the Countess, impressed by his smoothness. [Kizuka:] "But of course, m'lady." Kizuka replies with a faint smile. One advantage of being the son of an Imperial captain- one gets used to dealing with aristocratic types. Signalling to one of the circulating waiters, the drink is rapidly delivered, while Kizuka smoothly takes her hand in his, and raises it to his lips. The scarred young officer places a chaste, and gentle kiss upon the lady's hand, dipping his head in formal greeting. "But surely, you need not spend all your winnings on such fine apparel? For why hide a diamond behind such.. earthly trappings?" If nothing else, Kizuka is a smooth talker. (re) Athena softly chuckles, her pleasant laughter moving through the room, "Oh my, this was cute..." she grins and only slowly withdraws her hand, having it always enjoyed to be in the middle of men's attention. Athena says to Prashk, "An offer like what?" she curiously asks, as she sips at her new drink. [Prashk:] Prashk smiles to Athena, her pleasing laugh music to his ears. "Yes, cute..indeed." He eyes Kizuka and then smiles again to Athena. "Oh, he just said that if I wished to compete, he could surely find it in his heart to sponser a fellow Bothan." He shrugs a bit, "I may accept, I haven't decided...though, your prescence in the tourney might sway my decision where to compete or not." He smiles, unclasping his right hand to stroke his furry beard. He's not to shabby in the smooth talker department himself. [Kizuka:] "Ah yes.. another competition. I must enter myself." Kizuka comments, before smiling at the countess. "Though the danger of being distracted from my shots by a pretty face is a constant peril with opponents of your calibre, m'lady." Turning to face Prashk now, he smiles. "Ah, the joys of sponshorship. Getting paid to do that which is one of the most enjoyable pursuits in the galaxy. And.. in such fine company, as well.." He adds, with a slight bow towards the Countess. [Sargent:] Sargent also saw the Imperial officers approaching behind Yashar. But she couldn't acknowledge them right away. Though every sensibility in her mind would be looking to serve those who are coming to collenct their prizes, there was some other effect in her head as well. Numbing her, slowing her thoughts down. Confusing things. More Imperials. But why should she be surprised? This is CSA space after all. Recognizing the start of her mind's confusion this time, she works harder this time to fight it off. She can't afford this! She's got work to do! She nods at Yashar, then directs her attention to Dyne, chippering up. "Can I help you, Commodore?" Banking Functions Object gives Sargent some Standard Galactic Credits. [Dyne:] The Imperial Officer continues to wait patiently in line for his own opportunity to claim the prizes that he has earned - earned not won. In any competition, one earns their award, not wins it. After the man departs, the Commodore approaches the table with a soft smile upon his lips. Not exactly one to show emotion, but one to be polite, especially in CSA space. "Commodore Dyne Haederfeld, Imperial Navy. I'm here to claim my prizes, please." [Prashk:] Prashk smiles and nods, chuckling at Kizuka's words. "Indeed, I'm quite sure that the lovely countess blinded Mr. Fett with her beauty. For as we know, humans are supposed to be far superior to aliens in regards to all things." His condescending tone and smart-assed smirk shows this to be a subtle slam twords the Imperial idea of aliens. He changes the subject, his smile returning. "Yes, getting paid to compete, I'll accept it if I find intrest in it. But some of the company does help, yes indeed." [Sargent:] From his seat behind the prize table, the NovaCom guy with the safe hears the name and gets out another preset credit chit. "Of course, sir." Reaching up with one hand to tuck a some hair behind her ear with one hand, Sargent consults her datapad with the other. Odd. Her hair wasn't out of place to begin with. Looking over at the crates, she continues to the men there, "That's the credits, a set of armor, and a DY." Two of the uniformed employees get the stuff for Dyne while Sargent returns her gaze him and offers a polite "Congratulations." She passes him the credits. Sargent gives Dyne some Standard Galactic Credits. Sargent gives Dyne a DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol. [Paro:] Allowing Dyne space to collect his earned award, Paro once again falls into silence, glazing over the crowd with those eyes that currently appear rather unfocussed. He appears well rested, as if recently having partaken in some shore leave, or perhaps keeping the insanely strict regimen of the stormtrooper life to the letter... proper rest being part of required medicine. [Paro:] When Dyne is done with his personal awards ceremony, the officer once again directs his attention to the Imperial, looking at him with that formalized military fashion of someone who is deeply set and rooted in the army ways of going about things. "Impressive, sir," he comments with a nod of his head, having previously commented in a similar manner on the prize of the Colonel, "I suppose this will add nicely to the retirement fund. Is Selene's Moff going to acquire a neighbor now? Or are you intent on setting your roots elswhere?" The melodic speech of Paro's words carries with it a hint of a forced quality of someone used to field command, but softened properly to account for the man he is speaking to. [Dyne:] Dyne has disconnected. Yashar gives Sargent some Standard Galactic Credits. Yashar leaves for the Business District. Yashar has left. [Paro:] Having left the company of Dyne, Paro merges with the crowd again, holding his colorful drink in the left hand as he mills about. His eyes, cold and glassine, seem interested in studying behaviors, details and conversations, but overall the man does not appear anything more than socially oriented. A short conversation with one of the CSA exectutives ends when the other leaves to refresh his glass, and a brief encounter with one of Pallando's top aides appears to have an air of two people previously acquainted. [Paro:] The idle curiosity takes the officer near the booth behind Sargent operates... his eyes resting on the crates from the Merr-Sonn factories, the trophies and various gadgets that this highly-sponsored competition managed to attract. Nodding to the woman, the officer takes another sip of his brew, narrowing the eyes slightly at the potent taste and calmly eyes the holo-projections of the duelists and tournament highlights. [Sargent:] When the other Imperial officer drifts her way, Sargent gives him a polite nod. Though her dress may imply petals on the outside, this flower is perched on a mighty stiff stalk. Her posture, as always is impeccable. In turn, she lightly watches Paro as he surveys the table and all its perephrenalia. But though the numbness is coming back, she doesn't feel nervous about his roving eyes. Instead, she reviews her notes in the datapad. THereb is no need to feel nervous, yet. There are employees here to help handle any trouble, and besides, those crates are difficult to move. Zeak arrives from the Business District. Zeak has arrived. [Prashk:] Prashk shrugs and doesn't give Kizuka time to reply, he turns and walks off, wandering over twords the prize tables to admire the fine items again that are being given away. He smiles and bows to Sargent. "So, how goes...everything in tip top shape here?" He asks, sipping his drink, smiling softly. "You wouldnt know where I could possibly veiw a complete holovid log of the tournament do you, I fear my bloody shuttle was late arriving in time to see it."
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