RPlog:A Lady Displeases Her Lord

Lounge As your eyes adjust to the dimness of this room you notice the soft elegant music playing in the background. The sounds of music and the chatter of people enjoying themselves eases your mind and soul. Little lanterns of lights dot the room in shadows radiating the faces of the people. Large glass windows act as walls separating space from inside. Stars shine bright through the windows adding to the aura of the lounge. The tables are made of thick round glass that reflects the images of the patrons. Each table is complimented with a set of two to four black leather couches. A series of black sofa couches line the perimeter of the windows giving a birds eye view of the wonders of space. Along the back wall under a spotlight of flourescent lights is the bar. Made of elegant mahagony wood the bar runs down the length of the wall with sets of different sized glasses hanging upside down on the ceiling rafters. Decorative banners of the respected Imperial Fleet adorn the back wall of the bar. On the back wall beside the bar there is a little silver sign with the word "PRIVATE" engraved on it. A brass door knob is just noticeable under the dim light. As a reminder that one is still in the Empire two Black-clad naval troopers stand guard at the entrance to the area and the auto-blaster cannons still loom from above. A small series of steps by the window lead up to=impc viva forever :) a second level which contains only a few tables and chairs. It is very hard to actually see if there is someone up there. A sign by the rail reads: Commanders and above.

(+HELP PLACES for help.) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Morganna => Azya => Bronwyn => Drocal_Arconen => Krisma's Krazy Yet Kewl Kollection -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Up leads to Senior Officer's Tier. Aft leads to Off Duty Level. Azya frowns slightly, and looks sidelong at Morganna. Deciding against saying anything at that moment, she simply nods. "Of course, Lord Arconen."

Joir reenters the lower lounge from the senior officers quarters, speaking quietly to a semi-drunk army General, smiling politely to the general he helps him down the last stair before searching the room for a distraction which will allow him to escape. Seeing Minister Arconen in one corner speaking to Morganna and Azya he gives a final nod to the general before walking quickly and precisely across to the other remaining member of the Imperial High command.

Morganna's distaste in such measures is noted by Drocal with a slight quirk of his brow, but allows her to respond in her own way. He also turns to Azya upon her response, taking in the more appropriate words if not the gestures.

"I do not make any apologize for such formalities, and you need not feel so uncomfortable in my presence, afterall, we are having a pleasant social evening here in remembrance of former Admiral Adlerson's performance.", Drocal says, his arrogance clearly apparent as well as his confidence in knowing how right he is. Still, he doesn't actually push things as far as they could go, and smiles slight to himself in comfort of the facts. Aware of the approaching footsteps, Drocal turns to see Joir and his ever-serious expression returns.

"Good evening, Director. I am glad you could join us this evening.", Drocal says to Joir as the Director joins him and the two Ladies.

She has her drink, a dress, and an attitude. Morganna continues to scowl as Drocal speaks, but she doesn't challenge him or bait him. No, that would be bad.. not good to let loose homicidal tendencies in the presence of high command. Morganna raises the alcoholic beverage to her lips and speaks in a cool tone, "It's a shame I missed Adlerson, I was hoping to see him." When Joir arrivesd, Morganna inclines her head and speaks in a far more polite tone, although ther annoyed chill is still there. "Good evening. It seems I missed most of the party."

Joir meets Drocal's welcoming comments with an intense gaze from his cold grey eyes, eyes which at least one of the guests has learnt to respect or fear. Keeping his face in the correct and entrained emotionless mask he replies with a quiet voice, flavoured by a mix of natural authority and imprinted command "Of course Lord Minister, I would not miss such an illustrious event" He indicates the door with his head before continuing, "A pity that our guest of honor seems to have retired"

Morganna Looking terribly uncomfortable and out of place, Morganna Tazecks is wearing a dress. The long, green gown doesn't leave too much to the imagination.. not necessarily a good thing as some curious lines beneath the dress, probably more scars, are also vaguely apparent. Long, loose sleaves cover Morganna's arms and part of her scarred hands. The scarred woman's body is fit and muscular and the way in which she carries herself suggests that she could easily floor anyone that would dare even look at her too long. The expression of displeasure upon Morganna's face also suggests that she is displeased with something, as usual. The left side of Morganna's face is marked with a trio of deep scars from brow to chin that appear to have been caused by very sharp claws. A lifeless, blue and glowing robotic eye shines out from the left eye socket where, presumably, a real eye once made its home. Morganna's right cheek is almost completely unmarked, the exception being a tiny, hairline scar just below her eye. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest  => Vibro-Knife -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Nollin

Azya looks past Drocal, and nods slightly to Joir. She leans one elbow on the bar, and tips her head slightly to one side. Though she's obviously feeling obviously feeling uncomfortable, she does her best to hide it. She glances sidelong at Morganna, opening her mouth slightly to begin to speak. ALmost immediately, she thinks better about it, and closes her mouth again.

"Yes, it is a shame you missed Adlerson, but there will be other times, no doubt, Ambassador.", Drocal responds to Morganna. "As for Moff Adlerson...", Drocal begins, turning to Joir, "...yes, he is busy with his mistress, at the moment." Sensing Azya's discomfort, the Minister then turns his attention to her and studies her for a moment with his chilling gaze before asking, "A pilot, are you? Which squadron are you assigned to, Miss?"

The arrogance and hostility that Drocal emits brings a cold grin to Joir's otherwise lifeless face - Drocal is one of the old guard, the group which created the now infamous 'Imperial swagger'. Curious as to where that flippant comment has come from Joir presses deeper, although on the surface keeping his voice quiet and unobtrusive there remains a hard and cold undercurrent, the byproduct of a person who expects to get what they want "I take it Lord Minister you have little time for such things as Mistresses"

Gee, this room is completely chilly. Morganna shakes her head. Ah yes, his Mistress. She narrows her eye at some devilish thought, inf act at one of the events that drove her towards the edge. Morganna corrects Drocal, shouldn't he know everything, the arrogant bastard. "CIO, not Ambassador.." she pauses teasingly.. but with an almost malicious tone, "Lord Arconen." As Drocal's attention turns to the pilot, Morganna takes another sip of her dsrink. Of course he didn't come here looking for her, after all, who would want a scarred one like morgs?

Azya remains silent for a moment, returning Drocal's gaze. Straightening unconsciously, she eventually answers him. "I'm currently assigned as the XO of Talon Squadron...Lord Arconen." She lifts a hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, still watching the man in front of her.

Drocal_Arconen quirks a brow to Joir and his question. Bringing his hands around in front of him and clasping them there, Drocal seems to consider the Director's question for a moment before replying, "No, not as of yet, Director." His answer is short, as he eyes the Director somewhat suspiciously. You can see the question of 'Why'd you ask?' twisting Drocal's matured face but doesn't voluntarily persue the answer, dropping the discussion at that. Drocal then turns to Morganna, and his posture seems to straighten even moreso as he takes a breath at his error in her present title. He doesn't seem to allow it to bother him too much, however, as he replies, "I stand correct. With the recent Departmental shifts, it is not unusual for anyone to mistake another's position - those of the High Command being the exception, of course." He pauses to eye Morganna a moment more, reading in to her dislike of him and a little grin curls his rather sedate face. It would seem he appreciates something about her with this kind of significant change of expression. Knowing what, exactly, is another matter, one that dares all to in challenging the Minister to reveal, an unwise move. Finally, Drocal listens to Azya's reponse on her current assignment and nods, seemingly satisfied by the womans position, and says, "Very good. Keep up the good work, Miss Aguilira."

Joir watches the nervous reactions of the Lieutenant JG with cold, unfeeling eyes - she may feel tormented, but the sooner she learns the realities of Imperial the better, there is little use for a warrior who cannot hold her own. Turning back to Drocal he watches him as he speaks noticing that the Minister has quickly picked up on what makes Morganna such a deadly, but unpredictable weapon - her unquenchable spirit, a spirit which continues to defy far beyond when it is prudent to give in. Speaking with a cold voice he passes comment on Drocal's speech "Yes the high command is very stable" - although the complete lack of irony leaves those within earshot guessing whether he is sincere or sarcastic.

There is a flash of blue that illuminates Joir, Drocal and Azya as Morganna's left eye flashes. Those who know Morganna know that those flashes are from strong emotions, something's miswired somewhere up there. She offers an arrogant smile of victory to Drocal, "OF course HC doesn't move around much. But when it does, I'm sure you want people up there that are capable of holding their own." Not only does Morganna hwve spirit, but she ahs ambition. She wants power and control.. she has a taste of blood and wants to move in for the kill. Yes... sooner or later she will have wnat she wants. A flicker of something very close to bloodlust momentarily sparks through Morganna's organic eye, then disappears. "So, Director Joir, How are you?" Morganna runs a scarred hand through her hair and leans against the bar. She seems to forget that she is wearing a dress now.

Once again Joir can see that flash of confidence within Morganna, and greets it with a cold hard stare, ambition is good, it is what drives the Empire to greatness, but too much ambition is dangerous it suggests too much individuality, someone who has rejected the conformity and discipline of the Empire is no longer a team player - he must watch that. Keeping his voice chilled he answers his new Chief Intelligence Officer curtly "I am fine Officer Tazecks" - no room for frivilous pleasantries at this moment, and in this company.

Azya leans back onto her elbows, against the bar. She takes several deep breaths, quietly watching the other three around her, any outward sign of her nervousness now hidden.

Assessing the conversation, Drocal finds the opportunity now to ask a question. Shifting from an apparent reverie of sorts, Drocal's attention turns back to Morganna and with a challenging gaze, asks, "Chief Intelligence Officer, is it? Tell me, what are your responsibilities, Ms. Tazecks? Oh, and never mind that I was once the Director of the very department you work under.. Things may have changed since my time there." It is clear Drocal means to test Morganna's "waters" so to speak, pressing her with his authority ever so slightly.

Joir's chilling gaze doesn't appear to have much of an effect on Morganna. She has been challenged, nmow, and Morganna is comptitive. She knows better than to take things to far and is well known for taking things to the line and no further, "My duties are to ensure the safety of the imperial people with preventative measures.. being isnstrumental in crushing problems before they begin with the use of operatives, contacts annd the like." Morganna leans forewards.. thankfully the neckline of her dress is high! "If you're trying to gague my loyalties, I can tell you where they lie. They lie with the empire." her voice is cool, clear and feminine.. different to the rough, abraisive voice she used to have.. this is far more chilling.

Azya eyes Morganna silently, managing to keep a straight face as she replys to the subtle taunts thrown her way. She lifts her own drink, so far untouched, and takes a small sip from it, holding it in both her hands in front of her.

Joir hears Morganna's comments but remains looking closely at Drocal, trying to gauge his reaction to the conversation, and to his subordinate, once again hiding behind an impassive mask he decides to stir the waters - before he can trust his co-IHC member he must first know how he reacts, his comment is quiet and chilled - addressed at no one in particular, but definately meant for one man "The Empire is simply a confederation of people isnt it Lord Minister, I believe our true loyalties should be to the 'New Order', Palpantines dream - and whatever form that takes"

Drocal_Arconen appears somewhat amused as Morganna finishes as his aged face grins coldly, his chest heaving a few times in a silent chuckle. "I have placed many lives on trial when I was the Director of COMPNOR, Ms. Tazecks, and I can assure you now, in this social, happy setting...", he says with some sarcasm, "...you are by no means on trial. Though I am pleased to see wher your loyalties lie, I have not been given reason to believe they were in question.", he says, adding finally, "...not as of yet, at least.", before turning to listen to Joir's words.

Bronwyn listens quietly to the conversation, assessing. Discreet looks to the faces of all assembled, and she takes it all in behind a mask of polite interest, and nothing more.

Morganna narrows her organic eye. The temperature in this room seems to have dropped. between Morganna,Drocal and Joir we have a regular group of people that need a good case of the warm and fuzzies. Or they all need to find mistresses.. with the exception of Morganna. "Cheerful and social." she snorts and takes a long sip of her drink, "Perhaps if we all lose this power gaming crap we can all relax and enjoy ourselves. I know you are a superior and I know you do this for fun, if I was in your pposition, I'd be doing the same thing. I know the rush you must be feeling.. but for now, why don't we all just have a drink.. relaxation promotes a longer life." So does keeping your thoughts to yourself, but Morganna is just not in the mood for this crap.

Drocal's chest seems to rise with some pride at Joir's words. Even the Minister's icy blue eyes take on firy glow, but as he speaks, you find most of the energy in Drocal's body language remains internal. Only in his few short words does he lend some of this energy to those present when he says, "Precisely, Director! To the New Order, to Palpatine and his vision!"

Azya sighs softly, apparently loosing interest in the conversation, and power- play, as it were. Turning back to the bar, she takes another sip of her drink. Looking around, she spots Bronwyn. A slight flicker of recognition passes through her eyes, and she smiles slightly. With the three on her other side, not able to see her face, she rolls her eyes at Bronwyn.

Bronwyn supresses her laugh, but not the curl of her lips at Azya's expression. She looks over at Joir, Morganna and Drocal, and raises her eyebrow slightly, careful not to let anyone see, other then Azya, of course.

Joir nods in agreement to Drocal's statement, something both of them share with a degree of passion, a passion which dictates that discipline and efficiency is the way to remove chaos from the Galaxy, however at times relaxation is allowed - but now he must serve as an example to his subordinates, a symbol of unyielding power - Imperial might. Turning to Morganna he speaks with a chilled, and slightly berating voice "Very adept Officer Tazecks, you have an uncanny ability to pick the tone of a conversation - however such a short tone may not be entirely appropriate in such company" - obviously 'such company' is Drocal, the unkown variable.

Upon hearing Morganna's words, Drocal's manner does a 180. Where once he had been bubbling with inner pride at Joir's words, the energy inside him turns- over. His head slowly turns from Joir back to Morganna, and his expression shows a mixture of disbelief and anger at what the CIO has said. The social 'faux-pas' all too clear, you can see Drocal preparing to go on the attack, but just as he is ready to launch in to things, Joir's timed words allow Drocal to cool down somewhat. _SOME_what. His cold steel gaze upon the woman bites like a serpent inflicting it's poison. In a low voice, with words carefully placed and pronounced, the Minister unleashes his feelings, as polite as possible given the event. "I do not know who you _think_ you are, young lady. At one time I may have appreciated such honestly, but your lack of tact is diplorable! It is no wonder why you are no longer an Ambassador. You will *learn* your place, my dear. Given the circumstances, I do not think it appropriate to make a _full_ example out of your insolance, so I will be lenient..."

Jolan steps into the lounge, no longer in his dress uniform, but more civilian attire, but that of a wealthy civilian. His tight black shirt barely conceals his masculine body, and he is wearing black, attractive pants, which look to be made out of a very light linen. He wears his Lt's bars on the shirt, in case some new security officer tries to interrogate him. He walks up to the bar, and takes a small cigar, and lights it. His usual Corellian Ale is almost in front of him immediately.

And the defiance falters. Morganna has pushed the line, and she knows it. But now she knows exactly where the line is.. The scarred woman tenses herself, as though expecting a physical attack of some sort given Drocal's obvious race. Her eye narrows and she thinks of a million things she can say and do but all she does is stand up from the bar and hiss, "I will watch my tongue from now on. Good evening, Direcotr Joir, Lord Arconen.." It is quite clear, at least it should be to Joir who knows Morganna at least a little, that she needs to go blow off some serious steam before exploding. Her retreat indicates that she has learned something, but her tone suggests she isn't too happy with it. Arrogant bastards, both of them.. she thinks to herself.

Bronwyn looks over at her CO, and raises a graceful eyebrow. She looks over to the indignant Drocal, Morganna who's hackles are raised, and Joir who's as icy as Hoth. She thinks Jolan might be better company. Might.

Jolan looks puzzled at all the comotion going on before him, and smiles at Bronwyn, "Good...." he looks at his chrono, "...morning Ensign...." He takes a look over at the retreating Ambassador, and smiles at her, hoping to cheer her up in the tiniest bit. He takes up his courage, and steps nearly in front of Morganna, and whispers as close as he can, still weary in case he gets hit....

Imperial's throughout the room turn at the raises voice of the Minister, looking to the source of his frustrations: Morganna. Whispered words float around, gossiping about the scene between the woman and the dignitary. All in all, Drocal was lenient, even with the public aware of the circumstances. Status immediately tells one who is in the right, and with Drocal and Morganna, it is clear, whether there is justice behind the use of the status or not. Such is the social ladder. Such is life. Such is the Empire.

This is the problem Morganna will always face until she either accepts the harsh discipline of the Empire, or rejects it entirely. Her attempt to grasp some of the discipline while trying to maintain her own individuality has caused her many troubles, and it appears she still struggles internally - a battle that discipline seems to continue to loose. Glancing at both Morganna and Drocal Joir remains silent for a moment - unwilling to argue with Drocal in front of subordinates, addressing Morganna he speaks even more quietly than usual, but his voice is flavoured by a tone of mild warning "Good evening Officer, I suggest that you do so" - the tone mixes with the cold look in his eyes to communicate to Morganna the simple fact - /You brought this upon yourself, I warned you - learn control/

Bronwyn chuckles slightly, "Good morning, sir." She watches him walk to Morganna and casts a look at Drocal. Interesting what may come of this, she thinks, as she settles onto a seat and watches the scene, whispers of other Imperial officers wafting past her like so much insignificant hot air.

Control.. discipline.. it's all just a form of enslavement. The reason Morganna grasps onto her individuality is for the simple reason that she doesn't want to become just another cog in the machine. This might be her downfall, or it might just be her saving grace. Only time will tell. The woman with the burning mind long vowed to never become a slave again.. yes, her loyalties lie in this vision, but the attempts to quash who she is disturbs her.. angers her and frustrates her. When she passes by Jolan, with the whisper aimed at her, she snarls, seeming almost like a wild beast for a moment before slipping away through the doors.

Jolan shrugs, "Women...." He takes a sip of his Ale, and a small puff of his cigar, and brushes her off, with that snarl...."Can't live with 'em....cause they outrank you...."

Bronwyn stifles a laugh, and sets her face into a mask of calmness, while sipping her wine.

Jolan glances over at Bronwyn, and talks in a voice that's loud enough for everyone to hear, but not shouting, "Ensign, how's your training going? I would do it personally, but things don't look good for my so-called career at the moment. Apparently, 4 kills in a battle isn't good enough anymore..." He seems to mutter that last part to himself in anger.

Bronwyn looks over at Jolan, a polite smile on her face, "Fine, thank you, sir. I'm just waiting to meet with my instructor to finish my training again, though." She sips her wine again, and slowly becomes the icy woman that she was before.

Drocal_Arconen follows Morganna out of the Lounge with his cold gaze, which lands upon Jolan for a moment as he "exchanges some words" with her. Drocal takes note of the Lieutenant for but a moment, before turning to Joir and continuing their "conversation".

Jolan says almost bitterly, "I wish I'd be in the Empire long enough to see you get your wings Ensign. The way it looks so far, my career is almost over...." He looks saddened, and glances over at the two dignitaries for a moment, hoping they don't know what he means.

Bronwyn raises an eyebrow, "How so, sir?" Her voice is smooth and calm, almost reassuring.

Joir has more to worry about than the career of a junior naval officer, with the weight of the security of the entire Empire sitting heavily on his shoulders he doesnt even glance at Jolan, instead keeping his eyes firmly transfixed on the Lord Minister. Speaking abstractly he says quietly "Discipline is a hard lesson" pausing a moment he continues "Will you be taking a wider role within the High command with the retirement of Moff Adlerson?"

Jolan smiles at Bronwyn, "I'm not sure....since I've come back from taking Commander Melnick, and Commander Javert to his Excellency, my career has been going downhill. Maybe this is some payback from whoever is in this so-called faction." He seems to meld into his own mind, and think for a moment, "If it is....I'd kill them all personally, I don't need them destroying my career for following orders from his Royal Highness himself....."

Drocal_Arconen steadies his breathing which, up until now, was quite full with the anger and adrenaline within him. The tight grip of his clasped hands in front of him also losen, relaxing as he does. With his own "affairs" back under control, he regards Joir and his question on the High Command, replying, "The state of the High Command is for Emperor Valak to decide alone.", his words speak the truth, if not allow for a level of security. Drocal tilts his head slightly and asks, in turn, "And yourself? You have just been appointed to the Directorship of the Bureau - that gives you a voice in the High Command. Do you have any plans?", he asks, turning the tables a bit.

Drocal's comments bring a cold smile to Joir’s lips, by turning the question towards him he is attempting to direct and control the conversation - a skill which is greatly in use amoung all echelons of the Empire where the mantra 'Talk is cheap' does not always suffice. His reply is equally guarded, low voice - emotionless tone and chilled eyes revealing very little beyond what is directly said "Immeadiately? - I am still concerned with the fate of Moff Rhys, we must all remain 'Vigilant'" - the word emphasised, Joir obviously seeking a reaction.

Jolan takes a sip of his Ale, and does not turn around, but it's almost sensed that he hates the very mention of that word. Keeping complete control of his emotions, he finishes the sip, and takes a puff of his cigar. He turns his head, and looks one of the walls, obviously thinking, or maybe just concentrating...

Bronwyn studies the man who sits beside her. In a slow, calculated move, she sets her empty wineglass down and gently touches her hair in a certain way that it falls down immediately. She looks around at the crowd in an almost bored gesture, smiling to a certain person or so, sometimes exchanging words with another who comes to the bar.

With years spent as an Ambassador, and even more as an interrogator in COMPNOR, Drocal's ability to pick up the little idiosyncrasies in conversations and testimonies only goes to aid him now with Joir's words and the emphasis on those thereof. Drocal's eyes narrow somewhat, searching the Director's body language for any further evidence, but only notes the air of self-discipline withwhich Joir uses as a security blanket. Still, Drocal is aware of a bigger picture from the few words mentioned and says in a low, fairly quiet voice, "Perhaps we might speak somewhere a little more private, Director? The party continues here and is still rather loud I would rather hold such interesting conversation where I don't have to yell above the noise."

Joir meets Drocal's eyes as he speaks, sure now that the Minister knows something of what he was speaking about. Moving to one of the NavSec troopers guarding the Senior Officers tier he speaks a few quiet words to him and then waits as the NavSec squad firmly removes the few remaining, and now quite drunk senior officers from the upper tier. When the job is complete the senior trooper turns back to Joir and nods. Speaking calmly he indicates the stairs to the minister and says, "After you"

Jolan scratches his chin, and takes a puff of his cigar, his eyes slightly narrowed, but still staring at the wall. Anyone who would look at him can tell he's no longer just thinking, but concentrating on something as well. Through the tiny slits in his eyelids, he gazes around the room, carefully, and casually, not enticing anyone to take notice of it. Almost as if he's searching for something, or perhaps.....someone.

Bronwyn catches the last sentence of Joir's, and watches silently. Noise falls away as she concentrates on listening to something, perhaps another conversation in the corner, perhaps that one in the middle of the room. Whatever she's looking for, she hasn't found it.

Drocal_Arconen nods solemnly to Joir as he proceeds up the stairs.

You head up. Senior Officer's Tier A small rectangular room nestled in the corner of the lounge beside the window. Brass rails encompasses around this area allowing anyone to just lean over and look out upon the lounge below. Along the rails are wooden counters that run parallel with the edge. Large elevated plush stools are neatly placed under the counter ready for use. There are two large circular sofa tables in the middle of this room for eating and drinking pleasures. The window offers a spectacular view of space and its bright stars.

(@HELP and +HELP PLACES for help) -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Down leads to Lounge.

Drocal_Arconen comes up from below. Drocal_Arconen has arrived.

You hear from the lounge that Bronwyn sighs and slides off her seat. A small wave to Jolan before she walks off into the crowd and out the door, leaving her wineglass to be picked up by someone else at a later time.

You hear from the lounge that Bronwyn heads into the main hallway.

Drocal_Arconen walks up the stairs and on to the tier. Giving the room a quick survey, he heads over to a Private Table. Fixing his robe, he slowly sits down true to form in a regal manner.

Drocal_Arconen sits down at Private Table.

Joir follows the Minister to the table, sitting opposite him, scanning the area before he does so, checking just one more time for eavesdroppers