Acts of Providence (Imperial R&R)

[Professor Mors]

***Jaemus System, Obtrexta Sector, Grid Coordinates K-4***
***Hotel Providence, fifty kilometers South from the coast of the Northern Continent***

Commander Doren Vassyl poignantly stepped out the side of a small hovertaxi, and tugged out a small piece of luggage. Inhaling deeply, the crisp scent of the Jaeman countryside filled his lungs and bolstered his spirit. It had been several months since Vassyl had even been close to his home system much less set foot upon it. There would be time for reminiscing later however, and Doren frowned as he looked up at the slightly worn patio situated at the front of the aged Hotel Providence. The old lodge had been around since the early Palpatine years, and took its name from the neighboring freshwater lake.

In Doren's youth it had served as the primary destination for any Vassyl family gathering, but shortly after the passing of his father the ownership changed hands, and building had fallen into minor disrepair. That changed today. It had taken careful planning and prudent saving, but at last Doren had reserved enough of his wages to buy the deed to location himself. As of a week prior, he now held claim to the hotel proper, the sports facilities situated at its rear, Lake Providence in its entirety, the boat rental near its shore, the landing strip in the hill to the east, and all the other amenities forthwith.

It was quite the burden for an aspiring young officer, and though he had no experience as a businessmen, he was keen to acclimate to this new paradigm. As he made his way up the steps, Vassyl was met by an azure-skinned Rodian who appeared to be but a few years older than himself. "You must be Mr. Vassyl", the Rodian began, taking Doren's hand in a flash and giving it an exaggerated shake, perhaps too brusque for most, "I'm Dweir, head of staff, nice to meet you". Vassyl did his best to return the gesture, and grinned in light of his subordinate's enthusiasm, "A pleasure, and please, Doren will do just fine". The pair then stepped through the threshold and into the main entrance hall.

Nostalgia washed over Vassyl as he took in the sight of the crystalline chandelier suspended far above him. He floated his eyes up and down the tall twins flights of stairs that provided access to the all three floors, the red sheen of the carpeted steps shone as radiant as ever. As the two made their way down the winding right corridor, Doren ran his hand along the wood-plated walls, noting the occasional crack and chip as he went. Though the building had all the facilities of a modern installation, it had been purposely designed to mimic more ancient architectural techniques.

No room radiated this sentiment more than the ballroom at the end of the eastern hallway. Though it was coated in dust and much of the seating was blanketed for storage, Vassyl felt as if he had leapt back millennia in time. "It truly looks despondent doesn't it?", Doren mired casually, a tinge of regret in his voice "We will start here with the repairs". "Very good Sir- eh Doren", Dweir answered clumsily, not quite sure where to draw the colloquial line. Vassyl couldn't help but snicker at the intrinsic irony of the statement, "No need to correct yourself there friend, I suppose that's one title I can't outrun". Dweir chuckled nervously back at his odd new overseer, and heartily continued after him as they made their way up to the top floor.

Apart from the sixty regular lodgings of various sizes, the third floor was meant exclusively for the six penthouse-style apartments and the owner's private office and quarters. Doren was quick to slide open the dirtied drapes of his newest station and set about smearing the dust off a rustic wooden desk equipped with a series of metal implants. The light in the room was ideal for working, and could be adjusted if need be. Eyeing one particular holodoc, Vassyl set about activating a holographic display of the property, and zoomed in some to inspect the interworkings and back kitchen of restaurant that occupied a bulk of the western corridor on the ground floor. There would be time to mark up the blueprints for revision later however, as Doren set about his datapad and began to compile names. "Dweir", the Commander called out to grab his employee's attention "I will be sending you the list of patron clients I want given special care if and when they make reservations here". "I'll be sure to pass it on to the desk assistants Sir, making sure the parents are taken care of are we?", the Rodian answered and inquired back. "My mother yes", Vassyl started, pausing to think back to a time when the plural of parent still rang true for him.

Shaking that ill-fated line of thought from his mind, he continued on, "As well as any military personnel. Any enlisted soldiers will receive thirty percent discounts on their payments. Members of the Admiralty will receive a forty percent dock for all of their fees. Lastly, provided they can show proper identification, and member of my crew make stay here with a half-off discounted down payment, and will receive access to all extracurricular materials at no extra fee". "Oh my", Dweir commented, generally surprised, "that's a lot of income we lose on that last one Sir, I do hope your people don't vacation very often". Doren immediately broke into rambunctious and unfettered laughter, "I assure you my friend, they most certainly do not". The off-duty commander then eased comfortably back into his seat. There was plenty left to do, but while he was here, he ought to try and enjoy himself just a little. Perhaps he would go out to fish in the morning, if the weather allowed it.

OOC: Reposting this from ages ago, similar to Utopia, this is to serve as an open-ended, laid-back vacation thread for all Empire staff. I thought it wasteful to buy a business interest with no secondary roleplaying function, and thus the idea came to set up a getaway for us fine Imperial folk, and maybe, upon invitation, others at our agreed leisure. Feel free to jot down dates and time markers if and when you visit this pastoral locale, and have no fear of overlapping, I'm sure we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

[Desade Pho]

The ebb and flow of the Force washed over her the moment she stepped off her shuttle. Private, but very Imperial. She didn't own the thing, nor did she control the pilot. Yet. He had been briefed to her nature, and had orders to stay cordoned in the cockpit. That suited her just fine. What didn't suit her just fine was the fact her department felt the need to shuttle her to a resort of sorts. A place for 'calming relaxation and influences'. It was talk of honing her skills in more public settings that drew her in. And in the end, she followed the orders given to her, not out of any sense of duty or loyalty, but out of wonder. She wondered what piece in this intergalactic game her handlers thought she was to them. And what their motives were, their desires. She was enamored by the idea of another's desires. So it was here she arrived. Her skin coated in a thin layer of material that made her skin seem porcelain white, in contrast with her raven black hair that cascaded past the small of her back, gave her an almost gothic look. The form fitting dress, made from a blood-red material, shimmering in the light and matched the color of her lips at that moment. A film had been placed over her eyes to make them look blue, though her natural eye color bled through, leaving specs of gold enhancing her looks, completely.

Beside her walked an obsidian protocol droid, golden eyes scanning the area, hands tucked behind his back revealing a greater realm of motion than most protocol droids. A quick glance at the droid, however, had the droid, BL-4 by designation, pick up her bag, she travelled light. And the pair walked into the hotel together to pick up their reservations. The receptionist tried to make conversation, but Desade's head tilted to one side as she took in the figure before her.

"I beg your pardon on my Mistress's behalf, Lady Pho has not been on such a long distance journey in some time," the droid, better known in the field by its phonetic name, Belfor, said. His extra arms currently concealed within his frame. She glanced at him, then blinked for a moment, she nodded, and pulled her identification papers. They were falsified, but done so by Imperial intelligence. That said, she was listed as an Imperial contractor and consultant, rather than what she actually was. An infiltration and retrieval expert who specialized in assassinations.

"I am terribly sorry, here you are, forgive my manners," she offered. And with that, they were shown to their amenities. Desade found herself pausing, to stare at the ballroom as they passed. She did like to dance. And the more people the better, it would hone her skills. She just needed Belfor to get her out before she started murdering everyone, which would happen with prolonged exposure. Fortunately, Belfor was good with that, especially when it came to Imperial personnel as he couldn't harm them, based upon his protocols. But for now, they'd settle in, and prepare for their first night on 'vacation'.

[Professor Mors]

Doren reclined in his desk chair some, and continued to comb over documents provided to him by the Governor's aide. Despite agreeing to take shore leave from the higher ups on the surface, Vassyl had not neglected his planetside advocacy work upon returning to his homeworld. And, from within the confines of the hotel, the Captain was not without a few creature comforts to ease his spirits after several weeks on the front. He had just finished mid-evening tea when a ping from the hotel's intranet lit up on his administrative console. "Is something the matter Dweir?", Doren began, his gaze alighting on the familiar holographic frame of his Rodian counterpart. [Maybe Sir], Vassyl's manager answered back, [Some sort of military contractor just checked in: gave the new hire a bit of a scare is all].

Vassyl raised a quizzical eyebrow. Normally, an individual in that line of work might have been announced beforehand, or at least have logged a reservation prior to. And, while blind bookings were not unheard of, the affair struck Doren as somewhat odd. "Dweir", Vassyl started once more, "Forward our guest's papers to my office, and have the front desk run the security feed to my console". [It strikes you as odd too Sir?], the Rodian probed, more curious than concerned. "Call it gut instinct my friend, though I'd wager it's just nerves", Vassyl concluded, and bade his employee farewell. Alone once more, Doren set about reading and cross-checking the military databases, but didn't find much apart from the occasional superficial memo.

Strange indeed. Standing up, the Captain walked over to the larger wall-mounted terminal, and produced the alleged confrontation, now several minutes past. Yes, there was something off in her appearance at least in terms of body language. The real hitch was the face. Vassyl was certain he had seen the woman somewhere before, yet for all his mental exercises, he could not place where. There was no sense of danger in her complexion, but assuredly a mystery was afoot. Nonetheless, a direct investigation would be rude in the event it was nothing. Calling down to the kitchen, Doren arranged for a bottle of local vintage to be sent up on the compliments of the staff, along with a small invoice: specifically, an invitation to join the owner for breakfast the following morning.

[Desade Pho]

The room was not what she was used to. But she could easily get used to this amount of luxury, she was already afforded a lot through her position as an Imperial agent. She gave the messenger quite the scare when she answered the door and just stared at him as he delivered the invitation. Through his stammering she gave him a wicked grin, thanking him. She would have tipped him, as she read it customary, but he bolted. There was something unsettling about her stare. Belfor offered to assess the situation, but Desade was more then interested.

"You'll be accompanying me of course," she said.

"Of course, Mistress Desade," he added. And with that, she straightened her dress out, with the slit down one side to reveal one leg all the way to her hip. She turned her attention to the door and made her way, she'd be joining the owner for breakfast this day. She seemed to have a lot of dresses done up in blood red, or in this case, black. Again, it accentuated her figure, giving her an alluring appearance, her makeup back in place, with her contacts to make her look normal, her raven tresses loose and flowing as always. Tucked into the folds of her dress were two knives, hidden to look like baubles on the back of her belt. The ebon protocol droid announced her arrival as Desade Pho, as she awaited admittance.

[Professor Mors]

Doren had risen early, for the sake of appearances both personal and professional. After a somewhat longer-than-usual exercise in the refresher, the Captain set about pressing his military uniform, as well as a deep navy sash traditional worn by veterans on Jaemus. Having methodically donned his dressier attire, Vassyl saw to the meticulously combing of his hair, and the individual pinning of his small collection of service medals. Looking himself up and down in the mirror, Doren's eye floated over to his officer's cap, still hanging on the rack across from the bed. As this was a private gathering, its inclusion was not necessary for the sake of decorum. Instead, the Captain gave his more frequent accessory a courteous nod, and departed for the main access lift down to the ground floor.

Stepping out onto the carpet thoroughfare, the Captain observed the uncontested light of Jaemus' primary sun peeking in through the windows. From what Vassyl could surmise, it would be a clear day today, at least as far as the morning was concerned. Checking first to ensure his table was properly reserved and done up, Doren walked past the seating area with an approving air, and entered into the main kitchen via the server's door. Vassyl found the chef and her team hard at work, deeply engrossed in realizing a menu of Doren's own choosing. Despite the sporadic cloud cover, this week promised to be a warmer one, which in turn demanded a hardy, yet lighter array of dishes. Substance was paramount, but an excess of nutrients would result in lethargy due to the mounting heat.

First, a vegetable scramble, comprised of sweetroot harvest locally on the continent, and fresh eggs from fowl coups situated in a nearby town. Next came the largest component of the meal, finely charred Hoarg roast with butter sauce, supplemented on the side by salted red Jaeman spuds. The meats of the North were seen as a somewhat colloquial delicacy, and were rich in both flavor and texture. Last came the candied fruit, several choice morsels of varying tartness embellished with sugar imported from the Southern Capital. Throughout the dining, artisan caf and tea would be offered to the utmost, along with the dried shala blossoms, a somewhat uncommon bloom used for cleaning one's pallet. Yes, it was a fine ensemble, and one that gave an intimate, homemade feel for Doren's homeworld.

Retreating back out the way he had arrived, Doren stationed himself at the far corner of his chosen table, in-between the chair at head, which he would occupy, and its adjacent twin, which he would offer his enigmatic guest. Finding he had ample time to kill, Vassyl submerged into the deeper recesses of his mind, in a passionate, but ultimately futile attempt to recall why the woman seemed so familiar. Surely they had not worked together directly, or if they he had, Doren was otherwise unaware at the time. Perhaps she had been mentioned during a call for bounty hunters? Or a mercenary consultation? No, nothing so specific, or recent. Glancing down, Vassyl noticed he had begun to nervously rap his thumb on the tablecloth. Withdrawing his hand, the Captain straightened up, and brought his focus back to the present. There would be time for ruminating after breakfast.

[Desade Pho]

She took in the room in its entirety, plucking up a red berry of some sort, and bringing it to her lips, which curled around it, keeping her teeth hidden as she bit into it, one thumb moving over her lips to keep the red fluid from dripping onto her chin to avoid marring her porcelain makeup. She closed her bright eyes, and let out a seductive, pleased, sound, before she glanced toward the chair that was being offered. She sized up the man before her, and afforded the man a bright smile.

"And to whom do I owe the honor?" she drawled, her voice was breezy, light. Held promises and secrets on the wind. She glided more than she walked, right into the seat, with a demure, ladylike presence. "I was rather curious about the invitation, but nevertheless-- intrigued," she purred out, leaning forward just a bit, affording him a brief view of skin. Her initial examination of the man before her had been cursory, and overt. This time, she was much more candid in her appraisal. She offered him a slender hand, covered in a black glove that stopped above her elbow, a ring with a vibrant red stone in it, stuck out, as she awaited his name. She'd keep her own until she had his. It was how she had been training on proper etiquette.

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl found himself staring with great intensity at his newest guest upon her entry into the dining chamber. Indeed, she had spared no expense on her attire, and it did not fail to exact its desired effect. Much of Doren's mental stamina was sapped in trying not to gawk outright. Nonetheless, one thing was perfectly clear: this consultant had class. As the woman spoke, the Captain's focus wandered some from detail to detail. The flash and flicker of her eyes, the intonation of her voice, perfume, the frequency of her breath. Though Vassyl lacked the finer senses of his non-human companions, he was never one to overlook small trifles, and every facet of his visitor's disposition might prove a valuable insight later on.

"You must forgive my forwardness Madame", Doren began, a light air of cordiality mixed into his normally dry tone, "But the honor is indeed mine: I simply could not pass up the opportunity to break bread with a loyal collaborator of our esteemed military". The young Jaeman's eyes floated down to Desade's extended hand, eliciting a small grin from the naval officer. Her manners left little to be desired, and her friendliness, let alone her acceptance of Vassyl's proposal cooled his nerves some in light of the present anonymity. Gingerly, Doren took his guest's gloved hand in one of his own, and addressed her once more, "Captain Doren Vassyl of Imperial Third Fleet, humbly at your service". The now-name officer softly shook hands once, twice, before retracting his arm, and swept his fingers out towards the vacant chair, and continued on, "Wont you sit down Miss-?".

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden stepped out of the cab he'd hired--private call, a fine service indeed. Jorvan, Haly, and Darik followed him out of the cab. Darik wore his usual attire, Jorvan and Haly their uniforms. Rhoden wore fine civilian clothing that was both ludicrously expensive for something so simple and highly functional should he be required to engage a hostile, a most unfortunate drunkard if that were to happen. Out of two more cabs the rest of the Inferno's filed out, most wearing their uniforms as well. Pyrs and Raya alone wore civilian clothing--less expensive than Rhoden's, considerably less functional for any conceivable combat functions, but fine none the less. Rhoden made a mental note to have a dress made for Haly--acquiring her measurements would be difficult, but not impossible.

"Mr. Vassyl has done well for himself." Sevrich said in his deep voice, Rhoden started and looked at him, "I didn't know you tagged along!" he said, "I've come to make a deal." Sevrich said, "You remember that new root I was experimenting with in my recipes?" he asked, Rhoden shuddered, "Vividly." he said. "Well I got it to work--sort of." Sevrich said, smiling broadly, "Concentrate it right--filter out toxins, of course--" Rhoden's eye twitched, "Toxins?!" Sevrich waved the comment away, "Throw in some syrup and coloring, carbonated water. And you get root beer!" Sevrich said, "Root... beer?" Rhoden asked, "Not alcoholic--well, maybe a little--but it tastes damn good." the big man said, pulling a container off of his belt, and a bottle out of that. He handed it to Rhoden, "I brought a sample for Mr. Vassyl to test--though maybe he'd let me sell it here, but you go ahead and try it--I've got a few more in the trunk."

Rhoden sipped from the bottle hesitantly, gagging, "That's... brilliant." he said, a gleam in his eye, "Tell you what, Sevrich. Forget Vassyl." he wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders, "I'm willing to give you the money and facilities to produce this stuff and sell it en masse." he said, "Uh.. I thought we'd start small, maybe..." Rhoden raised a finger, "Take a few risks, if the ground falls out from under us it's my money gone, not yours." Rhoden said, "But the Hotel Providence will make a fine place to get the drink out there--at least among our fellow servicemen, eh?" Rhoden dragged a beamed Sevrich into the hotel as they continued to discuss details, checking in quickly they went up to Rhoden's large room and continued talking, Haly--who had been looking to spending some time alone with Rhoden--followed them in, rolling her eyes at Jorvan who shrugged and smirked.