[Shadow Conclave] Rest and Reprieve

[Shalken]

Open to Shadow Conclave members only. Death-disabled.​

The ornate halls of the Iron Temple rang and echoed as two Initiates tested their blades against one another, their instructor periodically shouting out corrections and praises. Overlooking the ring where the training took place was a balcony, the railing on which the Reclusiarch leaned. In truth, he was only partially paying attention to what was happening below; in his hand sat a datapad which detailed information on the general day-to-day running of the Conclave. Normally, he would engross himself in such things, but endless lists of numbers greatly bored him.

Running his hand along the wood of the railing, Shiro was glad to see the Temple in its newly-refurbished state, comfortable yet strong and secure. Behind him lay a wide lounge, complete with a bar and several couches reserved for the rest of the Conclave's agents.

Spoiler: member tags

@Vosrik
@Aystil Baham
@ArkhamKnight
@Swaglord
@The Prophet
@Nor'baal
@Narsi
@Ecclessey
@Darasuum
@StratusGold
@Cainhurst Crow

 

[Vosrik]

In one of said couches in the lounge lay Lucius. It was unsurprising really, if someone stuck a comfy sofa anywhere in the Iron Temple, then Vasch could be found sprawled across it. In one hand, he lazily grasped a glass of rich red wine while in the other he expertly toyed with a set of ElectroMag Bolas. It almost looked like he was having fun.

"Oh, come now Shiro, leave the numbers and come join me! You could do with some relaxation from time to time."

Lucius peered over the back of the couch to where the revered Reclusiarch stood so elegantly. Sometimes the Disciple himself even envied the man, but Shiro's options were just so....limited. Lucius smiled as he noted how part of his superior's attention was drawn to those down below in the training pit of the Temple.

"I'd join them, but I think you know what'd happen if I did..." He gave Shiro a knowing wink, clearly confident in his abilities as he twirled the bolas around some more. Unless, of course, there was someone who could match him. Then it'd be a challenge actually worth getting up for.

 

[Stratus]

In the shadows of a tall, ornate pillar stood Letiak. He gazed into the distance, towards the two initiates sparring before him and listening to every grunt, breath and shuffle he could hear in the temple. He was tired and weary but was up for a fight if one was offered one.

Off in the distance, he could hear Lucius having a one way conversation with the Reclusiarch and was sure that whatever was going on over there was surely a lot more entertaining than watching others train. So, he slowly made his way up the stairs at the back of the hall to where they were.

 

[Darasuum]

"Come on, this way." the woman beconed to the matte grey colored N-10 astromech droid. It trailed behind her leaving her Axion assault craft in the hangar. In each of her hand she had a reinforced carrying case for holding weapons or equipment. They each held some of her own personal armory but now she had to clean and stow them now that she was back.

She heard the hustle and the bustle going about. The Iron Temple was coming along nicely and every time she returned it was better than when she had last left it. Smiling as she walked she made her way to the lounge. She heard Lucius long before she saw him but she gave an unimpressed expression as her eyes fell upon him. She shook her head and sighed and her mouth turned into a smile, amused at his antics as ever. Leveana sat down on a seperate couch near the man after setting down the cases and opening only one of them. Pulling forth a bow and quiver she set them on the seat next to her. She took off the arrow heads and examined them each before placing them back in their secured location. "Leave the Reclusiarch alone." the woman said like a parent only half halfheartedly trying to keep a child from bugging another. The N-10 just bleeped nearby waiting patiently like a dog for its master's next command.

 

[Narsi]

Kip groaned as he stumbled out of his room, leaning against the wall as he tried to navigate the corridors with his eyes closed. Finally fully dressed in his usual ensemble after nearly a half hour of dry retching and repeatedly missing the arm holes. Even through his mask the light was agonizing, like a million knives pricking his eyes, and his footsteps, usually nearly inaudible, rang in his ears. Why oh why had he decided to be so reckless last night? Unfortunately the last thing he remembered was tipping back a bottle of accarrgm, a large bottle. He'd been with someone, that he was sure of but that was pretty much it. He had a vague idea he'd been pumping someone for information, probably related to the one known as Xanthier. Kip groaned again and halfheartedly punched the wall as he entered the common area, wincing as the vibration agitated his headache. Without any further ado he went straight for the bar.

So tangled in his own misery, Kip didn't even notice the others in the lounge, simply grabbing several bottles of cold water and hobbling to an open seat without so much as a batting an eye. Truly, a sad and disgraceful show for any warrior, much less a disciple of the conclave. Completely unabashed, Kip set about draining the first of his water bottles, sighing as the cold water spread throughout him like medicine. Already he could feel his head clearing, his stomach settling, good thing too. He actually had a schedule to get done today, oh and he'd heard the Reclusiarch was about, it wouldn't do to appear like this in front of him.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

"Wouldn't happen to have a real womans drink in that collection of bottles, would ya?" The chuckling voice asked in kips direction as Nassana sat with her legs crossed and her arms resting on the spine of the couch, sitting in the middle of her own as she stopped looking towards the ceiling in boredom and chose to focus it instead on some off the others.

She was dressed as she usually was, the coat and uniform she used to wear during her days as a pirate, her tri-shaped hat, a white feather in her cap, and her cape draped behind her on the couch. To some it was formal attire, to Nassana, it was pretty much the kind of dressing style she felt most comfortable in, like a second skin rather then something like a dress or a single layer of clothing would. She never was one for dressing as her fellow woman liked to do, finding the formal attire of the men more rewarding.

She watched him greedily drink the first of his bottles of waters, smirking as she simply commented, "Careful not to choke now. It'd be embarrassing for one of us to die via bottled water." She said as she looked towards her fellow conclave members, there were a lot of guys, and a girl she'd rate as pretty attractive. Dark, medium height, and with a beautiful voice, she made the blond brush a strand of hair from her eyes to get a better glance. Still, it would be an work romance, and those tended to bring unnecessary complications.

"I could really use a smoke. Any of you guys have one I can borrow?" She asked to the others, feeling the craving for one come on with the thoughts of her fellow conclave members and with not a lot to do on her own hands.

 

[The Prophet]

Coaxed from his quarters by the enticing ring of clashing blades, Aizahk donned his robes and drifted through the lavish corridors of the Iron Temple and out into the imposing main hall. Though fieldwork had certainly provided him with the rush he'd been craving, he was more than happy to fully embrace a decent bout of respite. He hoped that the leisure time would prove relaxing, and perhaps it would also present an opportunity to grow further acquainted with more of his new comrades.

Standing high atop one of the upper balconies, Aizahk cast his golden gaze over the rail and down upon his fellow initiates that sparred below. As usual, the nearby heat of combat threatened to ignite the fires of his own fighting spirit and set them ablaze. Though he was eager to get involved, he remained patient. After all, there was plenty of time and, for now, his focus was mainly on observing his peers.

On account of the highly clandestine nature of the Conclave, Aizahk found it somewhat jarring to witness so many members, of all ranks, mingling and socializing so candidly. It was most definitely a stark contrast to what one might expect from such an organization. Heading further into the lounge, his eyes were immediately drawn to the feathered hat of an icy-eyed woman that was dressed in rather flamboyant attire. Taking her striking appearance as a sign to introduce himself, Aizahk set his drink down and slouched into one of the plush armchairs nearby. He offered an introductory hand and smiled in her direction. "Aizahk." He gestured to himself with his free hand, "I don't believe we've met."

 

[Shalken]

Chuckling softly at Lucius' comment and Leveana's remark in return, Shiro laid aside the datapad with little hesitation. "It's okay, Leveana, he's not entirely wrong. Maybe I should take a little break every once in a while." He continued to look down at the Neophytes as they trained, oblivious to the other Disciple's languishing gaze. "Come now, Lucius, we're supposed to train them, not humiliate them. Someday they'll become Disciples and head out into the Galaxy on their own, and we have to prepare them for when that time comes."

Looking down to the training area below, the Duke's eye caught the form of Letiak as he made his up the stairway into the lounge. He was glad the ex-bounty hunter had assimilated so smoothly into their ranks, like many of their other newer recruits. He was equally glad to see Kip stumble in and begin chugging water, strangely enough. It showed the Reclusiarch that these people knew how to take care of themselves when necessary.

At Nassana's mention of smokes, Shiro finally removed himself from his post at the banister. "Though I don't have any smokes with me right now, perhaps I can entice you with an old favourite treat of mine." Leaving the lounge for just a moment, he returned shortly afterward with a smallish ornate wooden box. Placing it on the low table in the center of the room, he cracked it open to reveal a large stack of high-quality, expensive looking cigars. "I picked these up from Serenno on my most recent trip to Imperial space. Go ahead, take one; and I'm sure you won't find our bar lacking for much in liquor, either."

Taking one for himself, Shiro slid into an empty chair, lighting the cigar with a snap of his fingers before taking a long drag on the delicacy.

 

[Vosrik]

"Leave the Reclusiarch alone," reproved a newcomer sitting opposite Lucius. His only reply was to smile meekly back, looking utterly innocent of all charges. Then approached two more, a Twilek (@StratusGold) and another strangely hooded figure who punched the wall. Lucius could feel discomfort and pain emanating from him, though only something one would feel from a very bad hangover. Well, that's his fault, Lucius thought smugly as he stopped twirling his bolas and then began spinning it the other direction. "Rough night, I assume?" he inquired of the fellow. (@Narsi)

Taking a sip of his delicious red wine, he ignored the White Lion's request for a smoke as he'd never want to do something so awful to his lungs. The Reclusiarch seemed to have a remedy as it were, offering Nassana a cigar. Lucius made a comically gross face to himself just thinking about it.

"Oh Shiro, sometimes people need to be humiliated just to remind them they're not as good as they think they are." Lucius listened again partially to hear the clashing of weapons by the Neophytes. Ah, well. They'd learn regardless, or die trying. "The red wine from Naboo is just delicious," he commented, seeing as people were discussing drinks. Funny how that worked for a Shi'ildo, seeing as Marcus' drink of choice was Corellian Ale and Silas' was Ardees.