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Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Corellian_Outrider , Jun 4, 2017.

  1. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~IC~ Kaylee and Rowan Halcyon, Captain Nayarue
    Location: Selonia

    This was to be the first time for Kaylee to see a Selonian Den. She had heard brief stories from Rowan from his days as a knight protecting the borders of the Corellian Kingdom and the impression she had was of a cave and a couple of families living together.

    At first she had thought the town was where they were going to be based. The residents of mixed species were getting things together for the dinner. Nayarue explained along the way that was the worker’s village for the non Selonian contractors and that they were to see the Elders directly.

    They were escorted through without a stop and into the jungle beyond. A worn track lead them up a slope through the jungle, the rocky peak of the mountain was a constant sight in the sky. The cave entrance and the passage to the den fell in line with her expectations as it felt untouched from nature except for tiny light sources along the path to illuminate the darkness of the ancient network of lava tubes. At any turn, she was expecting it to open up into a chamber for living but that didn’t happen. The further they travelled along, the more she was starting to feel like she had underestimated the Selonians.

    When the group finally arrived to an opening... she felt mesmerised. At first, she thought she was looking at a starfield, all the shimmering lights dotted about a dark canvas… it took a moment for her eyes to adjust and recognise the space to be a vast underground cavern. It housed a subterranean city that stretched out for over a few kilometres. She surmised that it once had been the magma chamber of the volcano that had created the island and now, was long extinct… at least she hoped it was extinct. Lights of glowing orbs, reminded her of sunstones.

    Armoured Selonians, pikes in hand stood guard, blocking their progress. They chittered to Nayarue for a few minutes before they took point to escort the Nayarue, Rowan and herself. The rest of the crew disbanded and went about their own separate ways.

    With solemnity and respect, though without delay, Rowan and Kaylee were brought before the Elders, who sat, clearly, in descending order of social importance in a semicircle at the edges of a large round chamber. Nayarue stood behind them, she chittered a few words to them and heard the group of Elders chittering back and forth.

    Kaylee looked to each of them, some of them were scarred, some had matted fur, some were elaborately decorated in jewels of jade and moonstone. She wondering what was said between each of them and then the Selonians fell silent, their eyes trained on them.

    The one in the middle,with the burnt umber coloured fur, spoke without introduction and demanded aggressively, “You both smell different from the other strangers. What are you?"

    Kaylee watched Rowan knelt on one knee to show respect, she followed his lead and saw him looked up. “Your grace, I am of the Corellian Order"

    “Hmmmm… There is a hint of Corellian in you, but,” and he stopped to sniff loudly and then continued, “different… not familiar… What is your name?"

    “Rowan Seiriol-Nye Halcyon" He answered.

    “Halcyon? Halcyon?” Rowan’s answer elicited a cackle from the middle Elder. “I think you are lost. Nejaa doesn’t have any siblings nor cousins."

    Kaylee frowned and looked to Rowan, he had tilted his head, frowning as well. “I beg your pardon?"

    They ignored his question and the attention turned to Kaylee, the middle one pointed a finger at her. “What are you?"

    Kaylee’s eyes widen, surprised. “Me?"

    “A Sephi? Arkanian offshoot?” The Elders questions were laced with some sarcasm.

    Kaylee frowned inwardly. “Well… no, not exactly.”

    “It matters not.” Another one scoffed. “You are an outsider nonetheless.”

    Kaylee’s eyes narrowed. That was rather rude, she thought. For such a beautiful place, these curmudgeons sour the atmosphere. She looked to Nayarue and noticed how her fur were bristled though her demeanour was more… submissive. What did they say to her? Were they in trouble?

    Her comlink chirped and answered it. Kaylee excused herself, and stepped to the side before answering. Burst of static garbled most of the voice but she could tell it was Ariek. She could only pick out a handful of her words. “Ariek… I’m sorry but you aren’t coming in clear. I’m only catching every other word.”

    She watched as Rowan stood back up, his hands animated as he spoke to the Selonians, trying to appeal to them while she strained to hear what Ariek was saying trying to say. All she got back was: hurry up, Resup, and talk.

    “Not now, Ariek. You don’t need us to resup. Can’t talk now, we’re trying to negotiate. I’ll call you back.”

    She kept where she was, allowing Rowan the stage, her mind wondering how things were going back at the Icarus. She looked up at the Selonians. It looks as though their minds were already made up and this was just a formality… that it made them feel powerful to lord over. This was hopeless. She looked back over her shoulder and saw behind the guards a figure observing the proceedings. Garbed in a cloak, the face looked human. Her lips pouted slightly, wondering who he was and almost gasped as his steel grey eyes matched her gaze. She wanted to call out to the figure to wait but whoever it was slipped from the lighting and out of sight.

    Rowan had somehow got them agitated, talking amongst themselves and Kaylee used the opportunity to move to Rowan’s side. He glanced to her and flashed a tight smile. She nodded, taking that to mean that it could go either way. Her hand found his and squeezed gently.

    Nayarue stood up straighter and hissed, then called out in her native tongue.

    The middle Selonian quelled the discussion and cleared its throat and addressed Nayarue.

    As a guard escorted them out, glowing eyes of the Elders watch them leave.

    “So… I suppose that could have gone better.” Kaylee asked of Nayarue and the Selonian nodded.

    “They have much to discuss.” Rowan answered. “I believe we caused a stir.”

    “What happens to us now?”

    “For now, you’ll join us for dinner. Follow me, I’ll take you back to the village and find somewhere for you to sleep.” Nayarue said as she lead them away.

    Kaylee looked to Rowan, to gauge his expression. He was lost in thought, though no sign of giving up. She then asked. “And after that?”

    “They should come to a decision in the morning.” Nayarue promised. “One way or another.”

    TAG: Ariek, Meril, Rowan,
    pashatemur and TheAdmiral like this.
  2. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OCC: Thank you, CO for contributing Ahsoka to this post and for advising and helping prepare it for posting.

    IC: Ahsoka Tano, Imperial Commissar, Mas Amedda, Speaker of the Imperial Senate, Marie-Celeste Isabeau, Reina Mavras of Ursa, Matriarch of the Kavalad, Princess of Gripsholm and Empress of the Galactic Free Systems, Emperor Sheev Dantius Palpatine I (posthumously)
    Location: Imperial Senate Atrium, Imperial Center, Coruscant

    Ahsoka returned to Celeste’s side and let her know that Cadet Solo was brought up to speed and that the Enfanta Sophia was safe with him on the dais. She pursed her lips as she looked out to take a peek at the gathering guests. “I suppose we best get the show on the road.” She sighed and then looked back to Celeste with an encouraging smile. “It’ll be alright. Just like... knocking the head off a battle droid.”

    Celeste bit her lip at Ahsoka’s words and nodded concurrence, though she did not mention she had some doubt as to whether she might know just how to ‘knock the head off a battle droid,’ but as she had only minutes before told the Speaker, “we must do our level best.” She turned toward the back of the dais receive from Maruuke an old pink silk wrap with a woven geometric pattern and a fringe of intricately knotted tassels along either end. The familiar stole allowed the Empress to indulge an old comforting habit of turning a couple of tassels nervously between two slender fingers as she quickly put together a speech in her head, muttering the outline under her breath. The Admirals Grand were otherwise occupied tending to an urgent matter, which she imagined had to do with the security issue that must be keeping Anakin, the Re and Emperor. Whatever was afoot beyond the Senate and within, she was told the situation was nearly in hand and to carry on as best she could. In Ursa, it was her position to take the lead and Anakin’s to leave that to her, but here on Coruscant, the bureaucracy was impossibly conflicted, redundant and fairly unknown to her. She did not know the particular brokers-those who wielded genuine influence and who did not. She expected that Anakin was even now learning this himself, as were all, who wanted to grasp a secure position in the fast changing political landscape of the Empire.

    This reception was intended, in part, to introduce the Empress, a new political player, though her role was being given a soft focus for now and who else was a political player who might benefit from sabotaging the Empress’ introduction? Celeste’s senses told her this had the stamp of Sabe to it, for the reception was nearly a full hour late in its proceedings and Sabe Amidala of Naboo had not yet arrived. She was always on time, just late enough to make the proper stir in any gathering. Like her half-sister, Padme, Sabe was a radiant human beauty of uncommon grace and who happened to look a near twin to her late sister. Sabe knew well how to wield her attractiveness with pinpoint accuracy.

    She began to outline and comment to herself under her breath, “Introduce myself...oh dea! What is my name again?” A short nervous laugh leaped from her mouth and she put a hand to her head. “....all wondering about the future...put past in the past...grief and loss...must rally and commit to building a better union after sacrifices of the war...remember all those who gave their lives...we’ve all learned to thicken our skin to the horror of war...need to learn to be sensitive to life again...what better way to begin than to enjoy good company... salute you...may your evening be wonderful!”

    “OHHH!” she groaned.

    A deep voice interrupted her nervous moment. Given the size of the shadow that overcasted her own and the dower presence and tone, she knew it was the Speaker. “Your Majesty, it’s nearly time.”

    “Just a few short moments, Speaker Amedda,” said the Empress brushing the wisps of hair from her face and pinched her cheeks. She took a deep breath and facing the Speaker, she looked up at the massive blue Chagrian and nodded her head, saying, “I suppose it’s ‘showtime’ as they say. Let us proceed?”

    Amedda cleared his throat, and tried a small smile. “Your Majesty,” he said, reminding himself that the Empress did not like him to fall to his knee, so he made an awkward sort of bow and curtsy and hid the resulting scowl with a now crooked small smile. He gestured for her to precede him and then spoke softly into a comm, signaling his contact that the Empress was approaching the front of the dais.

    Within two seconds of the end of Amedda’s comm’ed transmission, the Imperial March cut through the den of the throng, stilling the queries and comments of the onlookers. The harsh, brittle detached strikes of hair-strung bows on metal strings pulsed eight harsh ‘climbing’ chords to the blaring brassy fanfare of the four bar question and answer phrase with the blare of trumpets- it was a classic form and never failed to stir. The martial air filled the vast atrium, reverberating and sending many to their knee. The color guard and the Imperial Guards began to file into the hall and head toward the dais. As Celeste approached the apron of the ‘stage’ to a podium that had been clearly adjusted to suit her height or rather Anakin’s, she did so with trepidation, for the Imperial Guard in their carnelian robes glided in an other-worldly way, their spikes piercing the air and their faces hidden behind their blank-faced masks. Only two days before, they attended Palpatine, now, they attended Celeste. What if they proved traitorous to the new Emperor and turned on her?! What if they were ...recording or someone. As the Empress, was seized by these thoughts, she worked to keep a subtle smile. The last pair approached. It almost seemed they paused to study her before removing to either side of the podium by several meters. She’d not yet had reason to consider the Imperial Guards until now.

    Celeste stood taller as the interior voices of the orchestra leaped and swelled in full resonant tones, the aggressive music full of high swagger. She stood as tall as she could, imposing and regal, to match the expectation of the intimidating march as it was played to its end, not a moment too soon. She was certain she missed the height by a head or so! Remembering Anakin’s complaints of suffering through endless renditions of this music and his threat to whip out a kazoo on it’s next hearing, prompted something impish in Celeste, as under her skirts, her feet tapped out a little seguidilla to punctuate the timpani and snare drums and she finishing with a percussive flourish, “Clickety, clickety, clickety, click...clickety click!” First order, she told herself as she looked over the somewhat confused faces of those standing close to the dais, commission an alternate anthem!

    Mas Amedda stepped to the podium and his voice rolled like thunder through the rising tiers of the transparent conservatory-like structure. “Gentle beings, citizens,-” whatever shocked whispers issued forth at the unexpected absence of Vader and the Empress’ odd little dance, hushed. The very air stilled, the dust most suspended, the soft, distant thrum of the patrolling fighter heard, faintly, their lights twinkling above “-while we mourn the passing of our late Emperor, who gave his life in service to this Galaxy, tonight, as he would see fit, we greet our new Emperor, Anakin, Lord Vader and Re Mavrat Ursa and most fittingly, we greet our late Emperor’s ward, Empress Marie-Celeste Isabeau, Reina Mavras of Ursa, Matriarch of the Kavalad and Princess of Gripsholm whom I now have the honor to present to you, Her Serene and Gracious Majesty, Marie-Celeste...” Amedda bit his tongue, asked not to mention the Emperor’s absence and whatever reasons he had heard for it. Before stepping away, Mas Amedda bowed deeply to Celeste who wet her lips and, standing alone, gazed out upon the sea of beings before her, now sobered to lose the playfulness that had only moments before emboldened her.

    A small white noise crackled over the sound system and settled on the room like a blanket. A cough drew the young Empress’ notice to a sea of eyes looking back at her. Her ears grew warm as the unknown came seeping in via the familiar beat of her own heart.

    Then slowly cheers and applause erupted and curled over all like a sea rising up to welm the shore. Celeste, surprised at the sound and unsure of what she expected, looked upon this face and another, realizing the crushing weight of just what this all meant. How vast was the Empire? Too vast to envision in number of systems, worlds, cultures, disputes, workings, collective mass, wealth, variation, and most of all, in the need of it’s shear number of beings. Yet Palpatine had managed it...or had he?

    ‘Run, fly, go!’ her heart beat said without equivocating. She could almost feel the weight of ‘Uncle Sheev Dantius’ hand upon her head. ‘My little bird,’ he cooed, in tones warm yet chilling. ‘You are beyond price to have only to be patient. Your intentions are quaint...but naive. If Vader must yield to Anakin, so be it! Anakin yields to you, my sweet pet. That is all that matters. If the people will follow him, so be it. Ultimately, though, they will always be in need, always hungering and unable to act in their own best interest. They are purely grist, my child…’ Celeste winced. ‘You cannot save them from themselves, ’Mother of Sith’ though you be. And when the hoard comes, they will cry for a savior and dear child, they will be happy for your sacrifice-a waste I will NOT suffer!’

    “Breathe!” she told herself. “Breathe!” she said silently, exhaling the smoke in her mind and remembering the words of her tutor. ‘You rule by their will, because you bring them strength...but it is up to you to reflect all that is best in them. You must show them their best being! As you would have others act and believe of you, so shall you act and believe of them!’

    ‘Run, fly, go!’ her heart beat.

    However, before she could, Red robed monks and nuns of the Kavalad began to chant step in cordons to cut their way through the crowd and an ancient and wisened abbess of Gripsholm hobbled up the steps with an equally venerable Patriarch of the Ursean Kavalad assisting. Celeste knelt solemnly before all as the Abbess, with wrinkled, but nimble hands placed upon Celeste’s head a tall silk-lined felted mitre of red, worn at the edges and deeply embroidered in gold metal threads with a stylized bear and dragon facing outward and between them, a set of spheres or perhaps it was an opening flower. Upon her shoulders, a robe of similar decoration was lain, covering her silver blue court gown.

    Meanwhile, from the balconies and the main floor, antiphonal Kavalan choirs sang out in ancient words as old as the Sith species from which the Urseans arose. The percussion of cymbals, gongs, and large drums swelled and long, deep sounding, metal horns sounded over throaty low chanting and nasal sonorous hymns, greater than the blare of the Imperial march, drowning out all trace of the martial with the ethereal, yet grounded strains of the Kavalad chants and hymns, that penetrated flesh and dura-steele.

    The Imperial Guards were made to give way to the Kavalad. They were lost in a sea of red robes, the robes of thousands of praying and chanting Kavalad. Amidst the ethereal strains, Celeste cast her own voice in chant as she held out her hands in blessing, fervently praying for inspiration and change as she anointed symbolically the people. From her flowed the Force in a stream that widened to filter through the air, over the people, a deep well of receptivity spreading through the room, though who would feel it or grasp it, was a matter of the individual. Aware of the confused thoughts and resistance stubbornly holding in spots about the Atrium, there was, she could feel, a spark, a small stalwart glimmer that steadily grew. The ceremony took but 10 minutes, but it seemed an hour to Celeste and to the several other force users present, not including the Commissar, the moments hit like lightning. Wary of what this transfer of power would mean,it was patently clear, the Empress was an unexpected variable of unsettling consequence.

    Tag: Ahsoka, others at the reception
    Last edited: Nov 21, 2018
  3. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OOC: This is a joint post with TA. TA this romp is turning out to be a lot of fun and I want to thank you for a fantastic time thus far. Great writing with you!

    IC: Toothy, Adrias, and inquisitor

    Location: Same MagLev Terminal, lower level in the interior shopping mall

    Toothy placed his enormous hands on the tall,central water tank behind which they stood. The bright yellow of the large droid could not be missed. Wherever the inquisitor would look he was sure to notice anyone hopping off the unit even as it reached the wall.

    Toothy’s huge brow gleamed in the artificial yellow light of the station interior. It was hot in the clinical tiled environment of the MagLev terminal. Having descended from the platform, they were now at a “street” level, a pedestrian and land speeder level. Toothy tapped on Adrias’ shoulder and motioned to the back of them.

    Adrias looked around, they were at a wide thoroughfare. At this hour it was full of people coming back from work or going to, depending on their shifts. Some of them looked at the two of them quizzically as it was not appropriate for citizens of the upper levels to ride on the cleaning droid. Unless they were from maintenance or worse… garbagemen. Unfortunately the two escapees did not wear any type of uniform that might pass as one of those two roles. So they were vagrants somehow who had somehow ended up on their pristine level.

    Adrias could see some looking for guards or CSF officers to report them. One of the best “features” of the Empire was the willingness of the people to report things they don’t like. They were approaching one of the few remaining intact trees. It was a shame that something natural and rare on Coruscant got neglected. It seems the business association that donated them did not care what happened with the plants as long as they had their publicity.

    Toothy ignored the stares and leaned to Adrias. “You know any programming?” he whispered and nodded to the space on the water tank where there was a small panel behind a locked flange of metal. One could see the lights of it’s digital panel shining at the edges of the flange.

    Adrias looked at what the Besalisk was talking about. He knew some, but could not do it on the fly. Thorn was the mechanic in his outfit, also a slicer. “What do you have in mind?”

    “We just need to direct this droid out of the station,” said Toothy,“I can get this flimsy door off. I can do some programming, but my fingers-see?” he asked, and wiggled his large fingers in front of Adrias’ face.

    “Maybe you can guide me and I will do it?” Adrias asked.

    “Yeah! That’d be good.”
    [/color] said Toothy quickly. “You hold on,” he warned, as he bent a corner of the flange and pulling it up from it’s casement, the large muscles of the Besalisk’s shoulders bulged and with a long heave, he ripped the flange off the computer’s panel and flung it far off into the street hoping it landed at enough distance as for the sound to be less pronounced. To hang on to the flange would have sent Toothy off balance and he could not risk being seen by the Inquisitor who had now jumped down with catlike stealth and was approaching the pedestrian way.

    Toothy directing and Adrias working the panel, a few miss-programmed codes and the sweeper began to turn around. If Toothy had hair he’d have pulled it out, “No, no not that one, that one-hurry!”

    The Besalisk’s nagging was getting on Adrias' nerves. The situation was hair-raising as it was. He nodded and did as instructed “That should do it...” Adrias murmured.

    However, the street sweeper continued to slowly rotate round as if the two riders were food items in a fast-dine counter. Toothy began a train of molten hot expletives, but when the escalators came back into view, the two finding themselves on the side where they anticipated seeing the young Inquisitor, he was gone, and suddenly, the programming lock in and the sweeper directed itself back into the station, moving slowly down a long white tiled corridor leading through to an interior shopping corridor. It took Adrias and Toothy about five more minutes of travel before they decided the crowd was thick enough to mix in.

    The mall had once been quite a swanky place to shop, but clearly had seen better days. There were beveled chandeliers and matching sconces, eateries, stand alone carts and tents, between the larger business to either side of the corridor, but it became increasingly dense as the two found the going more difficult.

    Adrias needed to use the Force to find out whether the Inquisitor was somewhere near them. But there was no time to remove the shackles so he had to use his other skills. For now it seemed they were clear for now. Though there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that they were not out of the proverbial woods. “We are not safe yet.” he murmured to the Besalisk.

    Toothy halted where they had been in a fast run, peering into the mayhem of the massive enclosed mall. Anxiously, he looked back over his shoulder to see if the Inquisitor was following and if so, how near.

    What did he know of the man with whom he'd made his escape? Only that he had been following Emi-to and had proved useful as a bludgeon.

    The mall was thick with shoppers trying to make the most of the mall-wide shopping spree, and in the middle of the floors of shops, the thoroughfares, lined with carts and tents, contained a group of shiny new speeds ready to raffle off to lucky ticket holders.

    "I know where we can go for sanctuary, but we have to lose this Inquisitor, first,"
    [/color] said the besalisk, leaning to Adrias.

    "If you would help me remove the cuffs I will be of better use." Adrias hissed.

    Toothy looked around to see if he could spy some utility locker or some bar in the decor that could be used as a lever.

    "Come on, then,"
    Toothy said in surly fashion, tugging Adrias by the shoulder.

    Adrias nodded and followed him. For now he trusted the Besalisk but decided to keep one eye on him, just in case.

    Suddenly Adrias was yanked into a dark alcove and tucked up next to the wall while Toothy latched onto a door, braced the bottom with his foot and pull with all his might, the metal plane groaning at the hinges. As he did so, distant screams and shouts could be heard from down the curve corridor in which Toothy and Adrias had made their escape. Toothy's eyes widened but he continued all the more, his shoulders flexing and chest heaving as he pulled harder. Finally the panel began to bend the more from the top and he could grasp the edge more securely.

    He raised both his arms, and that included Adrias' arm too, it being attached to the Force-dampening cuff they shared. Toothy hitched the cuff to the fine edged corner of the door and began to pull down against the point of the top corner, forcing the edge into the join of the hinge. The cries had subsided, but the air was somehow charged with the energy of the deal-seeking crowd who's noise had not and they hear the start of the first raffle being announced over an outmoded public address system that vied with the multiple monitors broadcasting the celebration at the Imperial Senate, a vast contrast, the sumptuousness of that celebration and the End of War sale in the mall: "A fine speeder, whether for a smart commute to your office or just to take out on town at night! Won't you look spiffy in your new......" The cuffs began to splinter at the join under Toothy's pressure. "...with luxurious detailing...tufted seats, that turn and recline....adjusting to suit you..."

    Toothy groaned as he tugged harder, the cuffs finally separating and Toothy's hand breaking free! He turned and began to run for the corridor, but carefully leaning out to search for the Inquisitor whom he knew must be nearer now. Meanwhile, Adrias hung from the top corner of the door, his part of the cuff still closed and stuck on the corner of the metal panel and he hissed under his breath in pain.

    If he didn't have to use his hands he would have simply broken his wrist as the Death Cult Assassins had taught him to free himself. "Hey, where do you think you are going!?" He shouted at the Besalisk.

    Toothy turned around and put a finger to his lips and hissed,"Quiet!"

    "I don't see 'em nowheres. Hang on tight,"
    he said, lumbering toward Adrias, his hulking body overshadowing the assassin, a crooked smile growing.

    "Yeah, yeah, very funny." [/color]Adrias said sarcastically as he saw his expression.

    Toothy grasped the cuff with both his hands crushed it in one wrenching twist. "You didn't think I'd abandon me new won buddy?!"

    Adrias could feel the rush of the returning connection to the Force. He could stand more comfortably now that he was not hanging "Just wanted to make sure... Thanks anyway."

    "He's near, that bad boy is! Can you get a read on 'em?"

    Adrias focused using the Force. He could sense the darkness of greed coming from the shoppers. It was muddying the background. There was another type of darkness, more focused, with an intent. That was the inquisitor! “I can sense him, so he can too. We must hurry!”

    Toothy drew up in shock. “You mean with you sensing the Force, he can sense you?! Well, why in the ‘Emperor’s Bones’ didn’t you say that!? Come on!” he said gesturing for Adrias to follow him out of the dark alcove.

    Adrias grumbled as the whole situation would have been a simple annoyance for him if it wasn’t dangerous. The crowd is getting agitated, we can use it to our advantage.”

    Toothy tugged at Adrias’ arm slamming him forward and into the growing crowd without another word, for out in the crowd stood the Inquisitor, weapon in hand. “Then, run little buddy." shouted the besalisk. There was too much noise echoing in the ceramic tiled interior for anyone but someone standing next to Toothy to distinguish the command, “whatever you're going to do, now would be good!” There was no way for Toothy to hide, he was heads of most of the people and sure enough, the inquisitor spied Toothy a moment later and shot one blast through the crowd, and then another...

    TAG: shoppers, Inquisitor, MagLev Terminal commuters
    Last edited: Dec 1, 2018
  4. Ominous

    Ominous Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 30, 2004
    OOC: With permission of the mods:

    Name: General Praetorian Darkeyes (known as General Torian by most)
    Gender: Male
    Age: 47
    Species: Human
    Home world: Cholganna
    Affiliation: Alliance
    ---Traits: Seasoned, Intelligent, Straightforward
    ---Likes: Drinking, smoking cigars, and killing bad guys
    ---Dislikes: Imperial stormtroopers, Imperial officers, stuffed shirts, armchair leaders, and BS
    ---Habits: Leading from the front, not the rear, telling it like he sees it
    ---Skin Color: tan, battle scars
    ---Hair Color: dark with grey around the sides
    ---Eye Color: dark brown
    ---Clothing: urban camo BDU (no rank insignia), black OPS boots, ---Other Attributes:
    ---Other Details: black duty belt, tactical thigh holster
    Weapons: DC15s
    ---Name: Reciprocity
    ---Class: Medium Strike Cruiser
    ---Hyper drive Class: 2.0
    ---Weapon(s): 20 Turbolasers (5 Forward, 5 Left, 5 Right, 5 Aft) Damage: 5D, 10 Turbolaser Batteries (4 Forward, 3 Left, 3 Right) Damage: 7D 10 Ion Cannons (4 Forward, 3 Left, 3 Right) Damage: 4D 10 Tractor Beam Projectors (2 Forward, 3 Left, 3 Right, 2 Aft)
    ---Shields: 1600 SBD
    ---Sub light Speed: 4 MLGT/s
    ---Crew: 1,972 but runs on less than that
    ---Passenger(s): 340 troops
    ---Max Cargo (kg): 6,000 metric tons
    ---Interior Description: special operations capable missions
    ---Other Details: Contains a cargo hold for alcohol
    The Force
    ---Sensitivity: No
    ---Religion: Kill or be killed
    ---Light saber
    -----Crystal(s): NA
    -----Blade(s): NA
    -----Color(s): NA
    -----Handle Description(s): NA
    ---Force Abilities: Can connect with his wife somewhat
    ---Force Weakness: NA
    ---Other Force Object(s): NA
    ---Personal History: Currently holds the rank of General and Commander of all Alliance Military Forces, both army and navy. All military strategy is performed by General Torian and Admiral Ackbar. Married to Jedi Emi-to. Bail Organa and MonMothma are the leaders of the Rebellion however they are not involved in direct, military operational planning.
    ---Military History: Joined Republican army in the early days, excelling in special operations. He was approached by Mace Windu during the Clone Wars to watch the Clone armies for any change in personality. Master Windu believed in his gut something was going to happen but didn?t know what and for fear of suspicion, regulated Torian to report back to third parties who would then report to Windu.
    ---Traumatic Experiences: His wife and daughters were "in the way" during order 66 and shot without compunction by the Republic's clones on the day the Empire was born. Grief stricken and swearing revenge, he disappeared and from that day began to roam the galaxy. He watched as his homeworld and others were ravaged by the CIS and Empire.

  5. TheAdmiral

    TheAdmiral Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Mar 28, 2004
    OOC: This is a joint post between me and @Corellian_Outrider , thank you! Also it is good to see @Ominous back in the game!

    IC: Lord Admiral James Xavier, duchess Jori Atreides, Dennii/Drakoniss Sunwalker, Rystáll Sant
    Location: on the red carpet the Senate entrance

    Tomaas Caine's coverage returned back to the red carpet. The crowds were cheering, smiles on their faces and enjoying a reason to finally celebrate. The music swelled and the colourful lights made a dazzling display across the skylines and buildings.

    The Theelin/Human hybrid, Rystáll Sant, was on standby. The prompter had given her the heads up that the next wave of guests were being ushered along. They were getting towards the end now and soon the doors of the Galactic Senate will close and the event will be underway.

    There was an eruption of cheer from the crowd as a famous figure showed up, Wynssa Starflare was fashionably late. Ms Sant caught Starflare's attention before any of her competitors could.


    "Rystáll!" They kissed cheeks as old friends. "Good to see you about."

    "How about you? You look fabulous, darling!" Ms Sant complimented the shimmering two toned gold and cream full body gown that Starflare was wearing. "It feels good to be about, especially at this star studded evening. Would you care for a few words for your adoring fans?"

    "I always make time for them, I would love to," Starflare said and flashed a wide smile as she waved to the crowd beyond the barricade and garnered a cheer and a few whistles. "Are you having fun this evening?"

    There was a resounding "yes!"


    The trio walked on the red carpet. There were flashes everywhere as photographers were taking the pictures of the arrivals. Jori stopped them at some intervals to strike a pose, a sweet expression here, a provocative one there. She was in her element, under the spotlight.

    Dennii tried to remain calm, but her heart was racing. Her mind was confused. She tried to act as if she was in her late teens when she and Jori appeared at public events. Her poses were less flashy and the smile was so fake she hoped nobody would notice. She had concealed the unnatural color of her eyes with lenses making them blue again. But there was no hiding the pain and sorrow.

    James walked stiffly in his usual crisp military manner. He did not smile, there was no emotion on his face. It was a stark contrast with the two ladies that he was accompanying him one was enjoying herself and the other tried not to fall apart. The Lord Admiral felt sorry “the Little Star”, wondering what had happened to her to have broken her so much. They were approaching what seemed like a reporter interviewing the arriving guests.


    Starflare finished up with a tease for her upcoming performance, stating "It is something you haven't seen me do before and I felt that I brought my best to the table. I cannot wait to share it with the rest of the galaxy!"

    "Oooh, you've got me anticipating to see your holo, the premiere shall be in two months time. Not long to go!" Ms Sant said. "I am looking forward to seeing it."

    "Thank you! I hope to see you at the premiere!"

    "Count on it!" Ms Sant winked. "Thank you for your time."

    "A pleasure," Starflare said, a twinkle in her eye and whispered. "I see you inside." She smiled and waved again to the crowd before continuing on to the awaiting throng of reporters.

    Ms Sant smiled to herself before turning to the next incoming guests, a closely guarded trio. There was familiarity with one of them due to recent headlines.

    "Ah, Duchess Atreides, I believe…." She greeted the leader with a smile. "Leader of the small independent system cluster called the Union. How exciting and a surprise to see you here tonight, who are your guests this evening?"

    Dennii almost smiled as she sensed Jori's reaction to the word "small" used in reference to the Union. Technically it was true, compared to the Empire they were minuscule, but to the mind of the its people they were the centre of the Universe. To the duchess' credit she did not reveal anything.

    "It is a pleasure being here." Jori turned with a broad smile "This is my sister, princess Dennii Atreides and the Union co-ruler Lord Admiral James Xavier."

    "A pleasure to meet you all." Ms Sant gave a greeting to the Princess and Lord of the Union, she kept her smile but there was something that confused her. She looked to Dennii and then back to Jori. "I wonder if you could explain to the viewers what that means and forgive me if it is too sensitive. Duke Leto was ruler before his passing several months ago and the mantle passed to his surviving daughter, Duchess… yet…"

    She then turned to Dennii, "Princess Atreides, your identity and title is new to us and outranks the Duchess, correct me if I am wrong but does your position make you the Co-Ruler of the Union with Lord Xavier?"

    Before Dennii could say anything Jori started speaking "I understand that our titles create confusion, my title of duchess is the equivalent of queen for the out... for the rest of the Galaxy. The princess is not a co-ruler, she is a member of my household and can inherit the throne. We are working on streamlining the titles so that they can be understandable for people from other worlds."

    "Well… thank you for setting the record straight." Ms Sant flashed a polite smile and caught a glimpse of the small drone prompter. "Your father had claimed the Union is a friend of the Empire during his sovereignty. However, recent headlines would suggest otherwise. You seem particularly relaxed given the Senate inquiry and hearings to come. Are you confident that the Union's recent conflict with the Empire will be amicably resolved?"

    Jori didn't bat an eye "Both parties are rational and I don't see why we can't resolve this incident. The whole situation had been a simple misunderstanding, which I hope will be laid to rest quickly and beneficially for both sides."

    "A very positive summation, your Grace." Ms Sant remarked before looking to Lord Xavier. "It is possible you might like to add some words, Lord Xavier?"

    Dennii could not decide whether that comment was sarcastic or not but she turned to uncle James to see his reaction. He clearly was not comfortable but was ever the stoic.

    "I stand behind Her Ultimacy's words and I too believe that this unfortunate incident will be resolved in a mutually beneficent way."

    "Ah… of course." Ms Sant flashed a small smile.

    "Ah…" That was not quite what Ms Sant had in mind but she flashed a smile. She noticed the last wave of guests were thinning and the escorts were signalling that it was time to move things along. "Well, I certainly hope you all will enjoy tonight. Thank you for your time…" She looked to each of them. "…and also for imparting a few words to the galaxy. Take care, bah-bye now!"


    The rest of the day was uneventful. Jori was able to acquaint herself with the floor of the embassy where she was accommodated. She decided first to speak with Lord Vader before exploring further as she needed to know her restrictions and her status as the brief debacle in Derra complicated things a lot. Also Dennii's situation was difficult as well.

    For sure they did not seem to be prisoners as they were invited to the reception. Jori wished that it was not held on the same day they had arrived, but there was nothing to be done, so they had to endure it all. At least she had her maid to pack her an evening dress. Jori was impressed by the girl’s choice, she had put in the case an elegant red one that made her blonde hair seem fiery. Her servants knew her so well, Jori despised ostentatiousness. That is why she preferred simpler attire, without many ornaments or elements. The same went with the makeup and jewellery, simple was best. A simple golden double-headed eagle pendant hung from neck, thin bracelets encircled her wrists. She certainly attracted the attention of the men and even some of the women.

    Dennii looked great as well. The azure flowing into the green. Small diamonds were incrusted in it making a dazzling display. The lights reflected on it making her sparkle. Dennii had to put more makeup to cover the bruises from the attempt on her life. She too didn't wear a lot of jewelry to be in tone with her sister. Jori peeked at her, she was worried for Dennii. She seemed to be in emotional pain. Her eyes seemed dead and hopeless.

    Next to her walked Lord Admiral Xavier, who technically was the co-ruler of the Union. Wearing his olive colored parade uniform and the myriad of medals hanging from his chest. His discomfort was visible to the naked eye, as a military man he did not like such gatherings even in the Union. Her attitude was a bit more ambivalent as these events could be tedious and boring but if you find the proper company could turn out to be interesting at least. The rest of her retinue was in their rooms as the duchess did not want to bring the whole menagerie to embarrass themselves and the Union.

    It was a nice change for her, as this time she was not at the center of the attention, she was just another of the dignitaries invited. Though something at the back of her mind nagged her, she was so used to be under the spotlight, well when she was not disguised as someone else, that now it was a bit strange. She guessed that she had to get used to that if the Union was to be integrated in the wider Galaxy. The duchess saw some familiar faces like the Hapan ambassador, who greeted her as Hapes is one of the “friends” of the Union. Jori had to exchange some pleasantries with the stately woman and she once again reminded her that the Queen Mother had a son who is at an age for marriage. Ever since her father was killed the Hapan ruler was trying to “sell” her her offspring. In the history of the Union and Hapes there were some instances of such marriages, despite the former being isolationist. The duchess had to be noncommittal again, but promised to visit the Queen Mother soon.

    Luckily the Hutts did not seem to have been invited, at least she couldn’t see their representative as she would like to avoid going to either Hutta or Nar Shaddaa. The slugs were one of her least favorite “friends” of the Union. But dealing with them was unavoidable if one was to deal with Outer Rim worlds.

    Jori exchanged greetings with the senators of Kuat, Fondor, the Tion Hegemony, Duro, Balmorra, and the Senex and Juvex sectors. There were some representatives of big corporations like Rothana and Sienar who had business dealings with the Union. The Arkanian senator had a look of contempt as the Great Houses were a competitor to their ancient AdasCorp. There were other rivals too, some of them were not so gracious as to greet her, nor she cared that much.

    Jori saw the Empress addressing the audience, but where was Lord Vader. There seemed to be some sort of an Ursean ritual, which was very engaging. Dennii seemed affected as she saw moisture in her eyes. A beautiful female Togruta was standing there. Jori could hear Dennii gasp “Ahsoka!?” so she was probably another Jedi or someone from her past. The duchess looked at the Lord Admiral who seemed distracted observing a group of officers, there was a familiar face, the redheaded captain. She smiled thinly, the situation was looking better.

    TAG: Anyone
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2018
  6. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OOC: There are several more posts to follow. Hold onto your seats!
    Previously on GAW IV

    Last edited: Dec 15, 2018
  7. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~OOC~ Special thanks to @pashatemur for this joint post. Also want to wish everyone a wonderful and safe time for this festive season!!

    ~IC~ Ahsoka Tano
    Location: Imperial Senate Atrium, Imperial Center, Coruscant

    As Celeste moved to position to address the guests, Ahsoka stood close by. A sentinel, watchful, protective but unobtrusive to Celeste’s spotlight. Not that she wanted the spotlight at all but she had a job to do ever since the disturbance earlier, poised to act at a moment’s notice, looking out amongst the guests, searching. There was a swirl of emotions she could sense, happiness, anger, disappointment, boredom, all settling down to anticipation, expectations. Her azure eyes scanning across the floor, one side to the other and up to the balconies and across and back down again.

    Could not help but feel some eyes were directed her way too. ’Am I too far from Celeste? Am I too close? Am I standing up straight? Should I have my arms folded in front or behind or leave them at my sides?’ She resisted the urge to fidget. A tiny shiver went down her back, aware of the coolness of the air against her skin, the subtle touch of the fabric, tiny flick of her lekku tips. She pushed the distractions from her thoughts and took a deep breath. ‘Of course I am being watched, we both are.’

    ~IC~ Colonel Wullf Yularen, Emperor Anakin Skywalker, Lord Darth Vader, Re Mavrat of Ursa, Grand Admiral Thrawn

    Location: Emperor’s former offices, Senate Building, Coruscant

    Yularen excused himself to follow the progress of Agent’s Koul’s team in the Naboo Embassy. Relay feed from the agents via ISB Central Office to his datapad on secured network. His frown and the wrinkles of his furrowed brow deepened. There had been hostile actions taken against his people…

    "I've a question for you, Grand Admiral," said the young Emperor folding his arms across his chest and looking sideways to Thrawn. "Why have you departed Naboo, if you anticipated a threat there? You'd only leave for some critical purpose!"

    "At the risk of endangering my flagship... I bring material and assets relating to the incident at Naboo." Thrawn answered.

    Anakin lifted his chin the more and then nodded, "I see. Your expected arrival?” Whatever Thrawn had to impart, he was not willing to divulge even over secured channel. This was worrying.

    "If our journey is uninterrupted,” Thrawn glanced to beside the feed then back. "Given current status, I shall be arriving in approximately twelve hours time. I regret to say I will not be able to attend the reception. I will be able to meet you in the morning, schedule permitted, of course.”

    “Forgive me, your majesty.” Yularen Interrupted. “The situation has escalated at the Nabooian Embassy. The staff there have turned on our agents… though they’ve been neutralised and the team is currently in the process of apprehending… ” He paused, something was not right. “Update from the patrol ship, there appears to be a disturbance with the building itself...”

    “Explain!” said Anakin standing abruptly.

    “Three Blind Inquisitors”

    There had been no imposition of prohibitions against their attendance at the event, but only three of their cotery had opted in on the event. To say they were pushing the envelope was putting it mildly, but amongst their rank, the inquisitors had noted and riled at the seeming ongoing change toward their very existence. Lord Vader had said nothing explicit; he simply had withdrawn increasingly from direct contact, to the degree that they received most orders from the Black Guard, with only reprimands in direct command. These three took it upon themselves to “monitor” their situation, or rather, the new Emperor, in action. Only earlier in the day had they made any collective determination to investigate for themselves what their superior truly had in mind-a direct investigation, having been determined as too obvious and decidedly too risky. Of significant interest, for the moment, was the newly appointed Togrutan Commissar.

    Each of the three had agreed to dress for the occasion, one of their brethren having pointed out that the general aspect of their “uniform” did, by dent of their employ, lend them a rather conspicuous air. Thus, dressed for an off-duty evening amongst the politicos, two “brothers,” one “sister” took up positions about the huge space, the “sister” overlooking the event from a third-story balcony. None of the crew possessed a relaxed posture, their bodies still “wearing” the “uniform,” as it were. However, they maintained positions where each could make eye contact, a commlink worn in the collar, and in the “sister’s” case, in a choker at her throat, to relay communications, whenever possible, in a low whisper. Just now, they were all holding glasses and saluting one another. One brother stood near the exterior garden terraces that overlooked the plaza, and the other stood near the communications center and entrance to the Atrium from the Grand Hall. At the moment, the Empress was the primary “person of interest,” or POI, the Commissar, secondary.

    TAG: Reception Guests and open
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  8. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    Previously on GAW IV and occuring as the reception begins on Coruscant

    Last edited: Dec 15, 2018
  9. Ominous

    Ominous Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 30, 2004
    OOC: From Apr 2013, this was the last post I made.
    General Praetorian Darkeyes
    - Supreme Commander of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, Captain Galen of the Dreadnaught-Class Heavy Cruiser Storm’s Eye, the Dreadnaught’s escort of four CR90 Corvettes and two MC30c frigates, Titan’s Fist and Destroyer’s Nightmare

    LOCATION: a set of coordinates off the confluence of the Hydian Way and Perlemian Trade Route on the way to Muunilist
    “This is Captain Malcovich of His Imperial Majesty’s ship, Zandra. So, you have found yourselves at these secured coordinates by accident. The Galaxy is not such a large place, I’ll concede. It would be nice to know who I am addressing and what you might know regarding these organic ships.”

    Torian was standing next to Galen who had the extreme pleasure of communicating with the Imperials. If it were him instead, he might have found himself threatening to ram his fist into this Malcovich’s stomach and breaking his spine. However, being a female, Galen was much cooler than he was at the moment. She recognized the condescending tone in the Imperial captain but decided to play it out and more importantly with humility.

    “Hi Captain!” She stated with enthusiasm. “Gosh, where are my manners? Sorry. We’ve been on a ship for far too long in the remote part of the Galaxy. My name is Professor Skolnik. The Galaxy is our lab and we have been researching other worldly creatures and species. I am so sorry we stopped in your secure area.”

    Galen mocked pushing up a pair of spectacles on her nose and continued. “As you can see for yourself, the organic is highly dangerous. We tried to analyze the last one we saw a few weeks ago and it seems to contain a variety of elements, some unknown to us and more than likely unknown to your Imperial majesty. However, we were unsuccessful at a full analysis. The ship became active and tried to attack our research vessel. Luckily our escorts that are with us were able to fend off the attack. It is more than likely eating its way through the rest of that ship out there! Oh goodness, I do hope there is still time to save whatever survivors there are left on your ship!”

    She looked up at Torian who was chuckling under his breath at her acting. He gave her thumbs up. She flipped the communicator back on and spoke again. “Oh dear! Wormser hurry up and contain that algae. We don’t want it to eat through the floor!”

    Torian stepped away from the comm. station before he burst out laughing and gave up the ruse.

    “I’m so sorry Captain Malcawick but I must contain a Cylindrospermopsis raciborskii before it eats the Gracilaria.”

    She sounded out of breath over the communicator. “If you need our assistance, we would be glad to help. It would be the icing on our research if we could get a sample!” She sounded like a giddy school girl over the comm. “Oh Heavens! Now the Crepidoodinium austral is beginning to spawn eggs!!!”

    The communicator went silent on the Storm’s Eye. Galen made sure it was completely off before speaking to Torian.

    Cylindrospermopsis raciborskii? Gracilaria? Crepidoodinium austral?” Torian was in awe with her. She shrugged, “I was a biology major at first General.”

    TAG: Captain Malcovich, Captain M’rissa Braun, Captain Babbit and crews of the Zandra - EF76 Nebulon B escort, Fortunata - Star Galleon freighter, and Soubise - EF76 Nebulon B escort, Jerrod-Lennox: Commander Xi Lian of the Roi’k chuun m’arh frigate, Flames of Death and Commander Cha’Gara of the Yorik stronha, Sacrificial Honour; Corellian_Outrider: Survivors of the Hidden Dagger
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  10. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~OOC~ I hope everyone is welcome and had a wonderful time this holiday season. A bit of house keeping to get out of the way…

    It has come to my attention that some open and general tags have not received response due to being non-specific. The tags have been made purposefully open or general due to the group dynamic of such an inclusive setting as the reception. Sorry about any confusion that this may have generated. Will try to name all individuals who are present and can interact or react.

    However, having said that, it can be hard to be specific when unsure of the locations of those in the venue and the open tags are designed to invite interaction where possible.

    ~IC~ Dash Rendar

    The whine of repulsorlift engines developed into a roar as the troop transport lifted off the opposing platform and took off to join the chase between the shuttle and fighter. Dash’s gaze flickered past Rouser’s shoulder to witness the event, then back to the man’s face.

    “Well, well Mr Rendar, how nice to meet you once again.” Pascale Rouser had that irritatingly smug smile. “What brings you to Coruscant? And if I am not mistaken, it seems you may be chasing after someone.”

    “I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.” Dash remarked cooly as he stepped towards the man. “Nothing seems to get by you, Mr Rouser. Strictly business of course. What brings you here?”

    TAG: Pascale Rouser
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  11. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    IC: Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, Lady Thalassa Tarkin, Ms. Arhinda Pryce, Governor of Lothal
    Location: Senate Atrium, Coruscant, garden terrace

    “Grand Moff”

    Not everyone had been included in Tarkin’s personal invite, but the word had circulated and no one wanted to be considered on the outside of that particular man’s list of supporters, even if they did not indeed support the Grand Moff. It was too early to tell just which way the winds were blowing now that the war was over. Thus, the mezzanine looked like it had been reserved by the Admiralty, so awash with Khaki was it. Tarkin had to smile to himself. It would be ludicrous to think these were all his supporters, but he was relatively certain, the presence of so many, meant he had made the desired “cut” in the “pie” that was power in the Empire; anyone who was amongst his well defined group, even if not in agreement with Tarkin’s means and methods, certainly held the proper deference, nonetheless, and understood what being outside of his influence could mean. He spied the pixie headed Arhinda Pryce amongst the retinue, not even a member of the select set -yet, but within weeks, she would be. Tarkin turned his glass by it’s stem and sipped appreciatively of the very fine wine he’d seen cellar-ed by catering from his private collection. He, ignored his wife’s inquiries and distractedly nodded to whatever it was she said at a mile a minute -seldom wrong and NEVER in doubt!

    The floor of the Atrium was a crowded mess of the hoipoloi. The mezzanine, a sort of dais of it’s own. Now the infernal thrum of those ceremonial drums and the horns! Add to it all, the antiphonal choirs! Tarken winced. “Pray for yourself, my fair Empress!” he muttered under his breath, as he imagined what he might do to pay her back for the insult of her guards having drawn their rifles on him. He looked over to the Admiralty brass as they stood khaki and white at the edge of the raised floor, gesturing with drinks in their hands, watching the quaint Kavalad and smirking. Ah, but he had to admit, the hymnody was rather good, if one went in for such things.

    “Grand Moff Tarkin,” said a sultry voice with a cultivated accent, a touch outer-rim twang venting through.

    Wilhuf did not have to see the person addressing him from behind, he knew that voice. She’d gone out of her way to see that he did. He had to rate her a big Navy “E” for her persistence.

    “Miss...or should I say, Governor Pryce, how very good to see you.” said Tarkin, offering his hand to the objection of his Lady, who rose with him and regarding the slender dark-haired younger woman with her piercing blue-eyed gaze.

    “Ah...this is Lady Tarkin, my dear, Miss Arihnda Pryce is an up and coming Governor. She’s shown remarkable political acumen in one so young and is to be congratulated on her new appointment in Lothal.”

    He knew the information would settle his rankled life-mate. Lothal was a yokel’s heaven and far enough away to allay any concern she might have that this young women would be of any interest to him.

    “Charming...and congratulations, my dear, on your appointment.” said the statuesque Lady in the most “limp-wristed” salutation Arihnda had ever been offered.

    “Why, thank you, Milady,” returned Arihnda with a stiff curtsy. She wasn’t sure whether a salut or curtsy would do, only that her research told her that Lady Thalassa Tarkin was a Motti of Phalareon and as such, very highly placed and well healed. Tarkin had done well in his marriage and increased not only his family’s standing, which was already quite high, but also his wealth.

    “Eh...yes,” Lady Tarkin returned with a small smirk and glance over Arihnda’s bobbed and bowed head to her friends around the table. It was a dismissive closure, but she’d already given Miss Pryce enough of her precious company. Turning away, Lady Tarkin rejoined her conversation with friends as Tarkin excused himself to walk and talk with Miss Pryce for a moment, although hearing was difficult. He was singularly disinterested with the new governor’s laundry list, but it gave him the air of being invested in some new project and made those who waited upon him all the more eager to attract his attention.

    As they stepped down from the mezzanine, passing a table full of Senators all standing to view the festivities, the noise swelled to a fevered pitch and Arihnda had to shout her question, “Do you foresee a delay in my appointment due to the succession?”

    “Miss Pryce,” said Tarkin, holding up a hand, “please, don’t shout, it’s extremely banal.” Arihnda pursed her lips, but she fell silent until they’d exited the Atrium to an exterior garden terrace.

    “Lovely, isn’t it,” the Grand Moff commented, in the relatively calm ambiance of the garden. “The late Emperor Palpatine had quite an architect’s eye, an artist, even!” He gestured for them continue along a garden path, replete with secluded seating, large planters with trees, and while the ever present traffic flow ceasly, it’s whirl heard faintly in as a drone in the background to the few night birds that occupied the terrace. “He had these gardens installed the first year of his reign as Emperor, along with a restoration of that massive plaza out there.” He flung a hand in the direction of the open thoroughfare surrounding the Senate complex.

    “Yes....lovely, “ Arihnda, turning her head to hide her boredom. “Grand Moff, do you foresee any lengthening or obstacles to my appoint...”

    “NO! Unequivocally...” he shot back.

    Arihnda pressed on. “But earlier today after the Senate address, I heard commentary that stated there were likely to be reviews of new appointments-”

    “Not yours, my dear. I’m in control of that and my appointees will be installed as planned and when planned.” Seeing she was going to interject, he gave her a look. “Is this all you required?”

    “Well, no, not exactly. I’ve been studying reports on contraband activity in the region and with the relatively new hydraulic flow discovery, piracy is on the rise-” said Arhinda with concern.

    “I thought it has yet to be determine if that load is sufficiently enriched,” he queried.

    “That’s correct, but just the idea has seen a distinct uptick in piracy and I’d like to ensure my office for the long run. It would be ashamed if I was set up simply to fail in my inaugural year...”

    Tarkin crossed his chest with an arm to brace his elbow, as he leaned his chin to his fist. “You’ll keep me abreast of the situation, Governor, and I promise you, I will be attentive, but you’ll need to prove to me you’ve got staying power. Believe me, there are myriad means for executing your fall. No, no,” he said, wagging a finger between them as he turned and gave her a carnivorous smile, “I want you to succeed. Show me, Arhinda, then you can ask for more. Right now, you need to demonstrate just how hungry you are.” He offered his arm and patted her hand in a fatherly way, “Now, let’s look a little interested in the evening’s proceedings. We don’t want to disappoint...”

    The floor was thick with beings and Pryce smiled to herself as she watched Tarkin take the lead, trying to divide the proverbial “sea” with his withering look. They cut off from the Mezzanine and now had no choice but to weather the ceremony amongst the “little people.” As far as she could tell, the Grand Moff was leading them toward a pocket of Admiralty officers near the dais.

    TAG: open
    Last edited: Jan 13, 2019
  12. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OOC: GM approved.

    Name: Captain Viggo Magnusson in the USF navy aka, Count Viggo Leijonhufvud och Magnusson af Gripsholm

    Gender: Male
    Age: 37
    Species: Ursean (close human variant)
    Home world: Gripsholm
    Affiliation: Ursa
    ---Traits: Intelligent, frank and direct-almost blunt to the point of giving offense. He has a strong sense of duty and honour. Can make polite conversation but typically is quiet and sometimes taciturn
    ---Likes: He likes being out of doors. While highly educated and appreciative of culture, he prefers hunting, fishing, and exploring. Likes to explore new worlds and traditions, but also likes to go to the local taverns near his family estate, lift a pint and listen to the locals, stories of mundane concern or import. He will occasionally rely on his horse to get him home at the end of such an evening
    ---Dislikes: Liars and intriguers, people who manipulate, inflated egos, and morosity
    ---Habits: Seeks solitude whenever possible. Applies his hunting and tracking skills in his position as Captain
    ---Skin Color: slightly tanned from being out of doors.
    ---Hair Color: dark blond and already showing grey
    ---Eye Color: hazel/green
    ---Clothing: utility/riding boots, rough cord breeches, old great coat of brown wool, patched with leather when at home, otherwise the dark blue dress or pale blue grey coat, cream breeches, and dark grey waistcoat of the Ursean Security forces. He will dress appropriate to the occasion. He’s not picky about his clothing.
    ---Other Attributes: His father, a career military man, Viggo follows family tradition and admiring his larger than life hero of a father, was keen to follow in his footsteps, though he is very much his own man.
    ---Other Details: has a scar on his forehead and other places from a near fatal fall while shear-face climbing. He has a dragon in deep carnelian red painted on the silver “scales” of his ship, the Ormurinn Stjärna, its wings extending on to the retractable and articulating “wings” either side of his ship.
    Weapons: USF regulation blaster, a metal saber
    ---Name: Ormurinn Stjärna
    ---Class: Witt Utarde class Ursean Security Forces SD
    ---Other Details:
    The Force
    ---Sensitivity: Yes
    ---Religion: Kavalad
    ---Light saber
    -----Crystal(s): NA
    -----Blade(s): NA
    -----Color(s): NA
    -----Handle Description(s): NA
    ---Force Abilities: Viggo is force sensitive like many Urseans, but he also is an adherent of the Kavalad which dissuades the casual use of the Force.
    ---Force Weakness: NA
    ---Other Force Object(s): NA
    ---Personal History: Count Viggo Magnusson was raised the son of landed nobles on the pastoral and preserve planet of Gripsholm. He has a comfortable life, a good family, and a fine education. Like his father, high up in the military command of the Ursean Security Forces, Viggo chose to serve early in life.
    ---Military History: Exemplary. He would say it was a matter of duty. Viggo is career military, though he is still a comparatively young man. He earned his commission and did not "purchase" it.
  13. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    lC: Senator Viceroy and Prince of Alderaan, Bail Organa, Princess Leia Organa, Regina Weiss-Hexa, Senator Riyo Chuchi and Bail’s sisters-Tia, Celly, and Rouge, Senator Riyo Chuchi, and Regina Weiss-Hexa

    Location: Senate Atrium, Coruscant

    “Rebel Ear””

    Bail had invited Ms. Weiss-Hexa to his table as she seemed to be seated amongst a party that were completely engaged in the festivities and had not made their acquaintance with her before hand. He introduced the tall lady to Senator Chuchi, explaining, “She’s an old friend from before the Empire. We don’t get to see much of her, these days.” He was curious as to whether Riyo would recognize Regina.

    As the two women introduced themselves further, he heard a question forwarded in a shout and looking over his left shoulder and watched as Grand Moff Tarkin conducted a young and comely women towards the garden area on one of the many exterior terraces. Turning his attention back to the ceremony, he caught Regina Weiss-Hexa’s gaze.

    “Yes, Bail and I go way back,” she said, her voice low and hoarse as she responded to Riyo Chuchi, in answer to a question the Senator had clearly posed, but she was looking to Bail. “We have some catching up to do about old friends, one of whom I think I am seeing and I’m not sure I can trust my eyes-but tell me about your work, Senator.”

    Just then, gongs and cymbals grew louder and the celebrants were joined by whirling red and multi-colored monks and nuns. They gestured and balanced in seemingly impossible position on the ball of one foot or the other, they leaped and did fantastic turns in the air or moved slowly toward the dais in fluid movements, their arms and legs extending as if through water, so graceful were their movements.

    “This is quite a shindig!” said Ms. Weiss-Hexa, gesturing to the spectacle around them and smiling down at Bail’s lovely little daughter as Chuchi did the same.

    Leia’s little hand clasped her father’s as he swung her up to stand atop the deeply upholstered bench seating that curved around their table, but with everyone standing, the Princess could not see the parade of brilliantly colored bhikkhunis and bhikkhus of the Kavalad, some of whom chanted while whirling tiny silver bell-embellished wheels held in their hands by a central handle. Leia began to jump up repeatedly to look over the heads of the onlookers standing in front of their table and Bail was obliged to lift her up to his shoulder where she sat and watched excitedly.

    While red predominated, there were also blues, golds, oranges, purples, and greens - the Kavalad was a moving sea of colors, so unlike the regimented color groupings of the Imperial hierarchy, all tending to dress according to their bureau or roles in monochromatic colors. She turned her gaze about the vast space to see the Imperial cliches congregating; the Moffs and officers of the Navy in khaki, a very few in white, the Imperial guard in red, and so forth. This was unlike any event she’d ever attended, even on Alderaan.

    Just after the stirring Imperial march, the Kavalad religious had begun to chant in low throaty tones that seemed to come deep down from their toes, and some chanted a short phrase over and over, while others spun in the center of the aisles they had formed when they entered. Large and small drums rolled like thunder as they were beaten rhymically.The cymbals and percussion, the bright trill of thousands and thousands of tiny silver bells, the chanting, somehow all harmonious, transported the little Alderaanian Princess so that she beamed without inhibition, mouth agape and clapping. She wanted to join the whirling mendicants and dance in the aisles with them. In fact, she could see that many appeared to be her age, around 8 to 10 years in human terms. Just as it seemed the mix could be no more thrilling, antiphonal choirs began to sing over all, the percussion and chanting falling into a coordinated rhythm and supporting bass underneath the soaring tones of the choirs.

    In spite of herself, Leia cried out ecstatically to her imaginary friend, “Ohhhh, oh! Do you hear it?” and the answer rang in her soul, “Yessss!” Just then, she spied the dark haired girl in blue. She was upon the dais, standing with a young man in the uniform of a Royal Imperial Academy Cadet. The two of them stood still, but Leia discerned their subtle movements and she smiled knowing both held the same excitement as she did and it was then, the little girl in blue smiled back at Leia, their eyes locked on one another!

    Bail, looked up to Leia and he hugged her to his cheek. “Yes, it’s sure beautiful!” He looked to his sisters, Tia, Celly, enjoying the festivities and to Rouge, Rouge who did not approve of his holding Leia on his shoulder. “Relax Rouge. Leia can’t see.” His eldest sister, who had taken it upon herself to manage the Princess’ education, was particularly dismayed at the lack of decorum Leia often displayed; Bail knew she found this little breech just another erosion of etiquette that would later show as an enormous fault in Leia as an adult. Bail chuckled. Poor Rouge, she was outdone with the flurry of activity and putting Chatham House to rights for guests of which he’d informed Rouge at the last minute.

    Yet, he looked about, a worry on his face and he lingered on Ms. Weiss-Hexa’s next to him, as if to ask her, “What does this all mean?” He thought back on Grand Admiral Carthaginian’s words about loyalty and deceit and he looked out toward the way in which he’d seen Tarkin and the young woman walk, and then back to Riyo. This was a peculiar moment and with the wall of sound surrounding him, he found Vader’s Senate address running through his mind. Vader had said, “Change is coming.” How could anything good come of Vader! Were they about to go from bad to worse? But if Vader’s words were to be could it be? On the their face, the words were just what Bail hoped to attain, though not in total. Again, Bail recalled Vader’s Senate speech:

    Self-rule for planets and systems, Bail mused worriedly. Even if Lord-Emperor Vader’s words were true, thought Bail spying Tarkin and the Lady official approaching the officers to the left of his own party. Did Vader imagine he could hold the Empire together when his intentions would most certainly be opposed? Or did Vader think he could strong arm these changes into being? How long could he keep it all together? And even so, Vader’s tactics, if they followed his usual mode, would negate the good of those intentions. The Senator from Alderaan glanced again to Tarkin and the Imperial officers. He directed Weiss-Hexa's attention to the Imperials and felt an urgency in needing to communicate with her as soon as possible.

    TAG: Scyther Vectis and All Stars, anyone near Bail Organa
  14. TheAdmiral

    TheAdmiral Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Mar 28, 2004
    IC: Lord Admiral James Xavier, duchess Jori Atreides, Dennii/Drakoniss Sunwalker
    Location: Senate Atrium, Coruscant

    Dennii managed to recuperate from the initial shock of seeing Ahsoka there. What was she doing here? Did she join the dark side as well? She could not sense anything indicating that, but who knows. The two of them never actually met each other and Dennii knew her from the reports and the HoloNet.

    She looked at Jori, she seemed engrossed by what was going on around them. Uncle James was focused on a group of officers and she could sense that he knew them. Good, no one was paying attention to her. A server droid passed by her offering her a drink. She took a tall glass of champagne and with a swift swig she drank it all. She could feel the dizziness of the alcohol entering her exhausted body. Her stomach rebelled and she gasped as she had barely eaten back in the embassy. It tasted good and she put down the glass on the tray, the droid was about to leave when she took a second one and drank it all.

    ‘Dennii, what the blazes are you doing?’

    ‘What do you care?’

    ‘As a matter of fact I do...’

    ‘You care because you have no choice. No one really cares for me, no one.’

    ‘You know that it is not true...’

    ‘No, I don’t know that. But that is alright, I can be on the sidelines, I got used to that. As the Union Codex states Question not your lot in this life. Be content to serve the Greater Good - however humble your station.’

    ‘Don’t start quoting the Union’s religious texts.’

    ‘But they are true, look around… these outsiders, gathered here to celebrate the ascension of a murderer and a traitor...’

    ‘Dennii, STOP!’

    ‘No, I won’t, I have been holding back for so long, everyone telling me what to do, how to feel, what to say. No one cares what I want, how am I doing and so on. NO ONE!’


    ‘Don’t Dennii me! I am sick of it all. And now I am going to bring another life in this miserable existence. If I had my lightsaber I would stab myself...’

    ‘Please calm down… I beg of you… I know your pain, you can move on, you will be happy again!’

    ‘You are not in pain, because if you were in pain you will know that there is no moving on… there is no happiness. What's next you might ask… NOTHING IS NEXT! NOTHING!’

    Her eyes welled. She blinked fast and looked around. Dennii was disgusted at the people attending. All the fake smiles, all the hypocrisy… She wanted to scream and cry.

    Jori turned to her and grinned mischievously “By the way, I forgot to tell you that before we went from the embassy I got a report that the CSS had started rounding up the suspects who were involved in the plot.”

    Dennii nodded stiffly. That meant that a lot of people will be tortured and then executed. All that in her name. What made things worse was that most likely they were innocent, they just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Uncle James nodded as well but said nothing.

    Hate! Hate! Hate!
    An emotion as pure as it is deep!
    Hate! Hate! Hate!
    Let it flow, let it run free!

    TAG: Anyone
  15. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004

    IC: Captain in the USF navy, Count Viggo Leijonhufvud och Magnusson af Gripsholm
    LOCATION: Gripsholm, Ursa system, Tavern, forest, and home


    Ship’s logs compended, reports and manifest being readied for the Captain’s review, and crew well on their way to finishing all the various tasks associated with returning to port from assignment, Captain Magnusson took a shuttle home, changed out of uniform, urged his horse out across a well-trod path to the village just down the surface road to the village. He sat up in his saddle and breathed in the crisp, pure scent of the evergreens and cold damp air-a first clean and clear breath in a very long time. Within an hour of arrival, suppressing a grin, he stepped down the three steps out of the street and under low slung eaves, hand on the weathered green door of the tavern. He wore a moth-eaten toque low over his eyes and puffed lightly on the pipe he pulled out of the deep pocket of his heavy brown coat. It had been a few years since last he’d made his way to the tavern. Had he been away that long?!

    With satisfaction, he managed to enter quietly and close the door against the cold, and in the low ambient light, he avoided recognition for long enough to make his way to a dark corner by the fireplace and puff contentedly on his pipe, while watching the local denizens with a sly small smile. The icy blast that slipped past him upon entering had only disturbed the contained comradery of a few families taking a late meal, a small party toasting some friends off to university, some small groups of business associates and land’s people ending a long workday. Viggo knew though, that recognition would come once the familiar form of the rotund owner ambled close enough to ask the ‘stranger’ what he’d like. It took only one shocked exclamation and the whole of the place was up to greet him, “VIGGO!”

    “Tell us about the battle!” “Is the war truly over?” “Are you planet bound now?” “When you gonna get hitched?” “Give us a kiss, dear!” “How’re your parents?”

    It wasn’t long before word got around the small cluster of homes and shops that Viggo was back. The tavern soon burgeoned with a full house spilling out into the street, the tavern’s lanterns and braziers lit and the quiet evening turned into a celebration. He must have kissed and hugged over half of the village inhabitants, he reckoned. Even after the families left for their evening’s sleep, the tavern remained full. Stories exchanged, songs, dances-it was a real homecoming, but reluctantly, with promises of visits later in the week, he stumbled to the public stable and climbed with difficulty into his saddle. It seemed to him his horse looked with irritation toward the snowy exterior. “I know, girl. I surely do! Let’s go!” he said giving her an encouraging pat and a scratch on her neck. Turning out into the blizzard, horse and rider tucked their heads and headed home for sleep.

    “Huuu!” he called, swinging widely in his saddle. The wind was stiff. Viggo grabbed the horn of his saddle to keep from sliding to the ground and just managed to grab his battered old fur toque before it toppled away with the wind and horizontal snow. Yet, the frigid blast abated as the dense forest closed in over the road and provided protection from the wind and snow.

    Upright again the Count sang out so his voice reverberated in the deep forest to either side of the rutted, icy road that lead home. He not so much reined the horse as the horse was eager to get from the immoderate weather and home to a fresh bin of grain and sweet dried autumn grass.

    “Helan går
    Sjung hopp faderallan lallan lej
    Helan går
    Sjung hopp faderallan lej
    Och den som inte helan tråran går
    Han heller inte halvan får
    Helan går!”

    Fishing a flask out of a deep pocket in his great coat, he sang out again as he beat an arm over his chest to excite some warmth. .

    “Sjung hopp faderallan lej-ah, drink it down...boy” he sang out and then spoke in quieter tones to the forest, “frosty witch, now is your moment! I feel your embrace....faderallan lallan lej...oh, I don’t blame you, my lady. ‘S terribly disrespectful. Forgive me...uh!

    “Wooo!” he exclaimed as he squeezed his mount with heel and thigh to keep from falling. Grabbing the reins and spooking her, the horse shot forward after rearing and Viggo held on, but nearly lay back along the mare’s croup ad then flailing about till he was roused from his sloppy stupor. He came to his senses, sat up and pulled the mare to hand into a gentle canter home. Tomorrow, I’ll ride out to the lake country after the reports are finished, spend the week with my comm off and find sanity, he vowed silently, with a huge yawn and fell into bed and deep sleep.

    That was Day One of Peace!
    Gripsholm, Ursa

    “Rouse yourself, my boy!”

    How it had happened, no one he’d had the time to speak with yet knew. Lord Neuwald, the Prime Minister, a man of consummate sobriety and discernment, had attached his signature to the summons. The Re Mavrat and Reina Mavras were now Their Imperial Majesties, Emperor Anakin Skywalker, Re Mavrat Ursa, Lord Darth Vader and Empress Marie-Celeste Eugenie Isabeau, Reina Mavras and Matriarch of the Kavalad.

    The scrape of curtains drawn briskly aside and the harsh early morning light flooding the room in brilliance made all the more bright as it reflected off the heavy blanket of snow outside made it a bit more difficult to ignore the command. A second later his head fell to the bed, his pillow yanked from beneath it only to come down hard atop him with a decisive “swat.” “We’re off to Coruscant...” came his father’s deep voice. This did nothing to improve the throbbing that seemed to have begun before Viggo had opened a full eye. He groaned, at which his father laughed. “Come on ‘war hero,’ we must go and represent. We’ve a scant day to journey and our presence is required. Vanya Federov is waiting us. Get up! You’re packed. Rinse off and get dressed!”

    Day Two of Peace
    Coruscant, the Senate Atrium, reception of the new Imperial family

    He slept the entire trip and now he stood in the Senate Atrium amidst more beings than he could name, not wishing to engage in small talk. The last battle was still in his muscles. He’d hoped he’d danced and drank it all out of his system the night previous, but all he’d succeeded in doing was giving himself a colossal headache. The sound of his ship’s cannons still rang in his head and Vectors, headings, alarms, tacks still presented like a holo schematic in his mind’s eye, it all still held his thoughts and lay in his thinking like a net and the constant chatter of the court arranged on the dais seemed ludicrous to him. He responded to questions and nodded, but he had the feeling he existed only nominally in the present, the rest of him was still standing on deck of the command bridge of his USF star destroyer Ormurinn Stjärna at Muunilinst. Thus, courteously he dismissed himself to wander among the crowds on the floor of the atrium, occasionally listening at conversations he passed, his face undisturbed in humor or surprise, though there were a number of interesting conversations that stuck in his memory like gum to the bottom of the proverbial shoe.

    He cast a glance over the heads of the 8 rows of beings ahead of him, fronting the platform on which the old Emperor’s ruling council and the Ursean Court were arranged. Her Majesty the Reina Mavras had begun without the Re. He knew both Re and Reina, personally, though he was more familiar with the Reina, his own y system’s woman. Viggo watched as the Reina’s ceremonial vestments and mitre were taken, as she seemed to be gathering her thoughts while the Kavalad continued the ceremony with prayers, dancing, and chants. Where was the Re, now Emperor? He looked about, brow furrowed, looking for the tall monarch.

    The cymbals, gongs, and drums, were holding their own with the long metal horns sounding antiphonally from various positions around the Atrium. Yet, he had caught a bit of conversation from a family arranged around a large table of what must be mostly politicos and government administrators. He thought he recognized the Senator and Prince Viceroy of Alderaan putting a little girl on his shoulder. He smiled at her child’s delight. She must be the Princess.

    Off to his right, he saw two blond women and a vaguely familiar seeming older man in some sort of uniform, very imposing and highly metaled. One of the ladies seemed to be getting her own party started,downing 2 glasses of bubbly one after another and the other lady was clearly sizing up the assembly. Both were very comely.

    The Ursean Count was about to move on, but Viggo found himself hemmed in amongst a gaggle of Imperial navy officers, with several more converging from two directions. Oddly, he thought he caught a few Ursean words exchanged among some of the uniformed men and women to his right, making him aware that he was the only Ursean officer in the immediate vicinity, and he felt his hand reach to confirm his insignia, bars and coat were in order.

    TAG: All Stars, Krennick, Tarkin, and Pryce, Jori, Duchess Atreides, Dennii Sunwalker, and the Lord Admiral James Xavier
  16. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    IC: Jedi Master Obi wan Kenobi and his Padawan, Luke Skywalker
    LOCATION: the homestead and Mos Eisley, the bizarre, a humble soup shop with a holo

    “A Patch of Yellow”

    The Day One of Peace!
    The homestead,Tattooine

    The boy nagged constantly. He was irrepressible and he knew no exhaustion and the whining had reached a fevered pitch. “Ben,” as the locals called him, decided it was time to relent. They needed supplies, he’d nearly completed what repairs he could to his old ship. With the boy perched on the wing, sparks spilling to the sand of the humble homestead’s sunken courtyard the young couple have deserted some years before, Obi wan, welding torch in his hand, was attempting to fortify an older repair. Early on, “Ben,” as he told Luke to call him, had strung netting over the small craft to hide it from view, keep it cool, and obscure any reflection it would give off under the glare of the twin suns overhead.

    In uncharacteristic quiet, the boy sat, cross-legged, his mop of golden hair hanging wet on his brow, and looking heart-breakingly, the image of his father. ‘Ben’ shot him a glance and stopped welding for a moment. He could ‘feel’ Luke thinking.

    “Alright...alright, we’ll go into Mos Eisley, but mind me closely, Luke. You must be observant and quiet of mind and body, that place is a wretched hive of......”

    Luke leaped up, his head, a tent pole, pressing the camouflage netting skyward, “I know, I know, “scum and villainy, scum and villainy!” he parroted, turning the words into nonsense syllables and making Kenobi chuckle in spite of himself.

    “Go and put together two rations, it’ll take a few hours to get there and we’ll need to start first thing in the morning, before daybreak. We’ll make better time and ‘Gertie’ will perform far more reliably in the cool of dark than during the day. ...Last thing we want is to be....”

    Luke had already leaped down and was heading into the galley, Obi wan’s voice calling after him to complete his interrupted sentence, “...stuck out on the bloody strand! A simple ‘thank you, Ben, will do,” he said a bit sullenly to himself as he turned back to welding.

    Day Two of Peace!
    Mos Eisley

    They could see the light halo in the sky where the space port lay in the dark distance. “There it is!” said Luke sitting up from a sleep he’d fallen into the moment they’d hopped into the jalopy of a land speeder, Obi wan barely kept in working order. Securing the homestead, they had to climb over the hard packed “plate” and rock strewn crust of the headlands to a small cave, where Obi kept the speeder. There wasn’t enough room in the courtyard for the speeder and the cave provided an out the way hiding place for it. Tucked back behind a large boulder, few troubled the place. It had been dark and still, the morning winds not to stir for another 5 hours when Luke scrambled gratefully into the speeder. “Yes...there it is,” said the Master, shaking his head at how Luke shared a familial capacity to rouse straight up from sleep without bleariness or a hint of slumber lagging.

    He’d acquiesced to Luke’s requests to head into the port not only for the boy’s life day, but because they needed to resupply and gather what news they could of the goings on off-world. Obi wan kept little in the way of communications devices, and those he had, he silenced and turn off to conserve energy and avoid detection. “I must be getting soft.” he said self-deprecatingly to himself. In spite of his own sense of safety and duty, in spite of tenets, he had come to love Luke in a way he imagined fathers love sons.

    Luke sat, legs tucked under and holding onto the transparasteel shield, like a happy critter, his near white hair batting in the breeze in the darkness before dawn. It was bitter cold. “Sit back and keep strapped in, young one...” Obi wan reminded. Luke beamed with excitement and nodded, buckling in, a far cry from his demeanor a few hours later when they parked the speeder in a canyon, and went trudging over rocks to hide their steps, crossing diagonally and doubling back along the rock edge to descend once again down into the sands.

    Obi wan kept his eyes scanning for sinkholes, a lead wrapped about his waist and tethering to his Padawan's, should the winds come early and the sand too forceful and thick to see. Fortunately, it was still cool, a fact that failed to cheer Luke. Obi wan, or Ben, as Luke was instructed to call his Master, insisted they wear head covering until they met with a crowd, when they could blend in.

    By midday, they’d purchased a small swoop and a trailer to carry their goods along with some bungees to tie the swoop across the back of the speeder. Teaching Luke to drive it was going to have to come immediately. There was no keeping Luke from taking the swoop out and teaching himself at the first chance. At least that would keep the Padawan busy and his mind off of piloting Obi wan’s fighter, which the sands had thankfully scoured clean of its red tattoo.

    The negotiations for the swoop, intense and not yet finalized, Luke wondered around the old junk shop and out into the yard, there had to be good stuff out there! The noon suns were intense and glaring, and Luke swathed his head and tying the cloth down. Yet, as hot as it was, exploring the piles of rusted parts, metal, plastascene, and ceramic scraps and shards, Luke felt a chill and rubbing his arms, noted, mumbling, “So quiet!” Yet, they were in the center of the bustling port.

    Someone called his name, he thought, and turning around, Luke found he had wandered far into the yard where the sorted stacks of metal scrap and old engine parts were taller than his 8 year old’s height. No one was there! It must have been the wind-NO! There it was again, like a little fluted voice, tickling his ear. “Hey, who’s there?” he called, puffing himself up to look bigger.

    It was high noon and the air was stifling, hot, and somehow quiet, though they were in a bustling trade center. The sound of metal toppling from a stack to the ground had the boy turning about to see where that something had fallen. The heavy ball from a ball joint could be seen rolling just out of sight about 4 meters ahead of him. Curious! He wrinkled his nose, cautiously following and then advancing to pick up the metal joint, and as he did so, his eyes caught a glint of bright red. He reached out to touch the painted and curved fin. As he did so, he could see there were two sets of three such fins and these he could see were attached to two cylindrical engines. Luke blinked at the engines and wiped at the fuselage. He felt surprised, even shocked, so much so, it took his breath away, but not as much as when he felt Obi wan lifted him away from falling metal parts as the engines dislodged and the metal pile spilled in all directions.

    Obi wan knelt and put his hands on Luke’s shoulders. “Are you alright?” Luke couldn’t hear 'Ben’s' voice just then, but understanding what his Master asked, he nodded as Obi wan gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

    Looking over Luke’s shoulder, Kenobi’s eyes slimmed and he cocked his head to his shoulder and looked to one red and rusted fin of aRadon-Ulzer 620c turbine. Reaching out he touched the fin and gently rubbed a red flake of paint away, revealing a patch of yellow undercoat. He stood up and took Luke’s hand, “I’ll wager you’re hungry.”

    “Yeah, I am kinda!” said Luke, looking up to Obi wan, squinting his eyes against the glare of the twin suns.

    As the two returned in the direction of the shop, Luke looked back over his shoulder wistfully at the rusted turbine engines.

    Finally seated at a cable spool turned table, the two tucked into their arguably meager repast of thin soup and course dry expanding bread. It was filling, the best cheapest meal they could afford. Elbow to elbow with the other clientele, everyone was a “friend.” Flies buzzed about and occasionally had to be shooed from the surface of the soup or rim of the bowl. However, the establishment was decent, reasonably clean, cool and it had a large holo. Not that Kenobi had paid it much attention until, mid-slurp, he sputtered and coughed, “AHSOKA?”

    With concern, Luke jumped up and began to pat his master on the back. Now it was his turn to ask,” Mast-Ben, are you alright?”

    The diners at the tables nearby turned back to the holo where they could see the new Empress officiating some sort of prayer and now relieved of her large red mitre and floor length cape. Music blared, and many bells range, a voice explained the ceremony as a holo zoomed-in on a beautiful Togruta who stood beside the Empress.

    Kenobi looked around as he patted himself dry and reassured Luke, he was fine, but he could not take his eyes from the holo. It was most certainly Ahsoka Tano Obi wan saw. He encouraged Luke to eat up and now sat enrapt and taking in all he could. “Palpatine...dead?!” All manner of questions fluttered around in the the Jedi’s head as his eyes were locked on the holo. Was it time to reconnect with Bail?

    Luke, as well, could not take his eyes from the holo and answered the question and half-exclamation in his head, //“Ohhhh, oh! Do you hear it?”// and, in an astonished whisper, he answered, //“Yessss!”//

    TAG: open for denizens in the eatery
  17. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~IC~ Captain Dorja
    Location: ISD Relentless - orbital flight path around Naboo

    Why would he fire upon a world loyal to the Empire? Captain Dorja pondered. It struck a nerve that one would think that of him, it was absurd! Yet, this would attracts trouble and with recent actions of the former Admiral Grant and Admiral John Thaw…. he wondered if they thought the same for him. Ridiculous. He is not them. Nor did he completely understand what drove those Officers to turn on loyal subjects. As Captain, the reasoning of Admirals is sometimes considered above his pay grade.

    It was the radical element. This was a transitional phase of his career and rogue elements seeking a way to undermine his authority, discredit him in from of the galactic stage to achieve…. what exactly? To force a situation, goad him into an abyss? For what? A minor victory that be something more than a drop in the ocean? Of course, it wasn’t about him, a result of circumstances. Whomever filling in for the Chimaera’s presence would be facing the same challenges.

    He kept his voice calm, as calm as he could muster. Deliberating pausing to think before responding back to Admiral Nacluv, the Naboo Defence Minister. What happens now is critical to containing the situation and he would not want to rush into things hastily. He exchanged looks with Commander Gerard, thankful that his friend was here too.

    Dorja’s hand cupped his chin, staring at the com station as the call ended then looked to Gerard. “If this is to be believed, it sounds as though there is an internal power play between the Ruling Council for the throne of Naboo and we’re being used as the scapegoat. No use in allowing them to rile us up and make mistakes.” Dorja looked to the Comms officer and gave the signal.

    He had promised to work a solution… however, there was no guarantee that he wasn’t being played. Either way, the Chimaera would have to be inform, it was the least he could do.

    * * * *

    ~IC~ Commander Karyn Faro
    Location: ISD Chimaera - En route to Coruscant

    “We need to find a new vector.” Commander Faro informed the navigation station. Special instructions had filtered through from Grand Admiral Thrawn that speed is a necessity for their voyage to Coruscant. Engineering were already coaxing what they can from the engines, if navigation can find a faster route to shave some time from their original intended arrival, that would be perfect. They have until their first waypoint to work it out. The timer is ticking.

    Something was definitely developing for Thrawn to not relay the instructions via voice or in person. Nor was he tending to the assets passed along from the Naboo and the Union incident. However, she had caught word that the noghri, Rukh, has taken it upon himself to secure what had been brought over from the Relentless.

    Having given the instructions, Faro made her way up from the crewpit to the command deck. Soft murmurs from the other officers at their stations as she passed them by. She intended to inform Captain Pellaeon of the developments however, she spied the Comms Officer angling towards the Captain too, arriving just as she did.

    “Communications from the Relentless,” Lieutenant Lomar said. “There’s been a delicate situation developing on Naboo. Captain Dorja wishes a word.”

    Faro refrained from cursing in front of the Captain though she certainly felt like it. The Naboo has a way of been a yo-yo in between wanting independence and automancy yet requiring their hand to be held. Just when they stepped away, something ‘urgent’ requires their intervention.

    TAG: To be continued.
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  18. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    “The Morsels”

    IC: Sly Moore, Sate Pestage, Speaker Mas Amedda, and Elias Blud
    LOCATION: Coruscant, Senate Atrium

    Sly Moore thought she might survive the evening’s tedium wallowing in her grief. The ceremony and pomp would not allow her to sink into a silent sulk. Peeved at her current tethering to the throne, she was obliged to comply by law and by the cuff she wore around her ankle. The “boy,” Vader, had allowed her to veil her semi-incarcerated state by concealing the detaining device where it was least likely to be noticed, beneath her flowing robes and the Umbara gave her begrudged gratitude by offering no resistance. She was not entirely certain, not even in viewing Palpatine’s remains, that her Sith Lord was actually gone from her plane of existence and until she was convinced, she would comply with the boy’s insistence that she remain available and partially involved in the office of chief aid to the Emperor.

    So she sat with the ruling Council on the dais and ignored whatever “politeness” was handed her way, still, remote, motionless, trying to puzzle out what had happened and why. It occupied her every waking moment and even her dreams. She would not accept that Sheev Dantius Palpatine was truly gone, so she sat silent, seeming lost in grief, and observed, ready for Sidious’ return, in spite of the fact that she had not been given even the context of her Master’s self-deployment to the last battle of the Clone War. As much as she’d been given in the privilege of confidante to many plans and projects Sidious considered critical, this sudden turn of events left her out in the cold, as it were, and fuming that he left her without provisional actions or means. To her knowledge, and she had probed via many avenues, to see who knew what, no one knew this was coming-not the Imperial guards, the members of the Council, and certainly not Vader’s purview, the Inquisitors. Thinking on that rabble, Moore looked about the Atrium, scanning the floor, the tiers of rising balconies and the far corners to spy at least three of the inquisitors lurking in and out of the shadows, watching and in turn being watched by the Imperial Security Bureau. It seems that the “pretty” Executor had learned a few things from his Master, after all.

    Sly smirked.

    Where was that “boy,” however? She craned her neck and watched the comings and goings from the dais, the various characters pushing through the crowds and hurried little meetings in and amongst the “people.” Something had happened. Vader was not on the podium and things were running far past the scheduled commencement of the festivities to welcome the Empress and celebrate the official end of the nearly decade and a half long war. To have claimed his time, that matter must be quite something, Moore surmised, causing her to wonder for the first time since Vader returned to claim the throne, just how long it would take for his reign to collapse. Not that she wished it. In spite of his avoidance of her, she still held a special place for him. Whenever possible, she’d long found every opportunity to dote and make herself of value to Vader, but this transition of power was far too easy seeming to her mind and consolidating power, securing command of all of Sidious’ minions would be a huge task. As talented as Vader was, Sly was not certain he possessed the acumen to accomplish the tasks immediately before him, much less, execute the changes he’d outlined in his speech to the senate earlier in the day. Sly clucked to herself, brows knit with the impossibility of it all. “Poor pretty boy!” she said to no one.

    “A credit for your thoughts, Ms. Moore!” said a voice, at her ear. Sly leaned away to regard the offender with a white eyed glare. “Pestage!” she seethed, “angling, as always...”

    Before she could respond further with her ready acerbic ‘tongue,’ the Imperial March began; Sly rose with the rest of the Council and watched Sidious’ exotic little Ursean Queen gracefully glide to the front of the dais to be introduced as “Empress of the Empire of Galactic Free Systems” by Speaker Amedda. That union was one such secret to which Sly had been an active promulgator. She smiled a small smile to herself in satisfaction at how well that project had gone. Sly was practically the proud “mama” and what a fairytale Empress the charming “Little bird” made!

    “We know where the skeletons lie, Ms. Moore. We are indispensable so long as they need our information. But don’t let’s become too comfortable, my dear. Have you had time to consider my offer?” said Sate, smiling in his purple robes and fez, his eyes following Marie-Celeste as she took her last few steps toward the front of the dais and seemed to scintillate under the glare of the lights to the final strains of the march.

    Moore hissed at the Grand Vizier as the quiet began to settle and the Kavalad chanted, Celeste along with them. “No, I have not considered” she whispered hotly, without turning to face him. “I’ll let you know my mind when I have and until then, trouble me no more, Grand Vizier. Leave me to my grief lest I lose my composure; you know well how I deplore scenes.” said Sly, effecting her most grief stricken demeanor and letting Pestage imagine what losing her composure might mean. The two had known one another a very long time, and Pestage was indeed acquainted with how Sly could dissipate the pain of her bruises by meting out as good as she got from Sidious in their private encounters to anyone with whom she became irritated.

    Steps away, Elias Blud, though he looked out upon the ceremonies, with Nyll at his side, leaned his ear to catch as much of the conversation he could hear between the Vizier and Moore, the late Emperor’s “secret fancy,” though Sly Moore was only formally “secret.” He watched as the pale Ms Moore’s gaze followed the young Empress and he saw what he did not expect to see, an enigmatic little smile curving along the alabaster Umbaran’s lips. “Now isn’t that curious?!” he said under his breath and lightly biting his bottom lip. “Curious, indeed!” Blud turned to Nyll and took her arm in his and gave her a tight little smile of his own as he traced a little pattern of a caged bird on Nyll’s hand. “Hum...I do wonder what that could mean...yes, I do,” he said aloud to himself, for he’d expected some sign, no matter how small, of resentment from Ms. Moore, given the demotion this ascension meant.

    Blud turned to Nyll again and shouted over the gongs and horns, “Lovely, isn’t she?” and he nodded to the Empress as she was stretching out her hands in a benediction of the masses. “And quite charming, too!” he added chuckling at the Empress’ little dance at the end of the Imperial March. It was doubtful as to whether those nearby were meant to see it. “Won’t that be something! Someone to meet!”

    TAG: Nyll, open
  19. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~OCC Message~

    I hope everyone has had a great time during the festive season. Just a few things to touch base with. This update and post took longer due to cross checking facts and weaving in new threads while setting about resolving older ones.

    With the Reception still going on, I assure you that there is more to the game than the event on Coruscant. This is just Act 1, a chance for characters to set their foundations, interact, start up threads, and the emergence of new factions as veiled threats. The campaign against the Separatists is over, the war for the fate of the galaxy will soon begin.

    When the Reception ends, Act 2 will start. A summary will be given with the aim to bring everyone up to speed and in sync.

    To ensure everyone is all on the same page, all updates and communications will be done in game or via the OOC thread. That allows everyone to be on equal footing rather than details lost in a myriad of private messages, players being excluded and misunderstandings. Any private issues are to be discussed privately. With all due respect, you do need to think a moment about what does and what does not constitute "private/personal."

    Jerjerrod-Lennox has officially withdrawn and her assets are now game controlled by the GM at the moment.

    I'll present a copy of this in the OOC thread just in case the message is missed.

    If there are any queries, please don't hesitate to ask or drop me a line.

    This post is a joint post between @pashatemur and myself, thank you so much for the time and energy.
    Asterisk denotes reference to events from GAW III between @Sith-I-5 and @TheMaidofOrleans from October - December 2008.

    Now, without further adieu…

    ~IC~ Colonel Wullf Yularen, Emperor Anakin Skywalker, Lord Darth Vader, Re Mavrat of Ursa, Grand Admiral Thrawn
    Location: Office of the Executor in the Senate building

    Anakin stood, his back to the Grand Admiral, his eyes glowing brightly, his gaze intense and brows tightly drawn together. Slowly he bowed his head and tucked it to the side. Uncrossing his arms he walked away from his old combat group leader, once Admiral, now Colonel Yularen of the ISB, speaking as he did so. ”The Naboo Embassy’s newly added central tower required a lot of building materials...the ventilation baffles were false fronts to a hidden hangar... Sabe!” The queen’s name he bit out under his breath, fists balling as he sought something in the darkened office upon which to mete his ire. He’d always kept it spare and all that lay in his present view was a solitary chair. “They’d had to have taken the Flarestar apart and somehow smuggled the constituent parts into the Naboo consular building...” he continued, his right, now flesh, hand instinctively seeking to rest upon the hilt of his saber and when it met with empty air, he reached to his collar and pulled at the cravat about his neck. ...Reassembling the ship in the tower during construction! So, she’d been busy this past year.” The chair in front of him seemed destined for a scrap heap, yet, though he stepped to it, he stopped. Growling instead, he closed his eyes and lifted his head, his shoulders rising with a long inhalation. How could he love her and save her from her own childish inclinations! “Willful...” he hissed in frustration, standing for a moment, hands on hips, a odd little smile slowly spreading and he wiped his face of irony.

    “It is remarkable…” Thrawn’s calm voice came through the holo. “ resourceful they were to do so without raising any attention. No doubt they had people on the inside or of influence…”

    The rise of his anger broken by the Grand Admiral’s smooth voice, Anakin, raised a brow and half-smirked. He didn’t bother to say that it was likely the idea of getting away with the deception, rather than any practical use that was Sabe’s incentive for building the hidden hangar. Then, a thought occurred to him, “Or was this construction of a hidden hangar a trial endeavor for some other more involved but similar deception? To go to such lengths-she feared something dire...a trial run, but the risk?” He shook his head. It made no sense.

    “Quite, I trust the site or the shuttle should give us an inkling as to whether this is a one off. It would be a costly venture, not just the resources and construction in secrecy but ultimately, the silence of those involved. The dangers of doing so... and sourcing a ship of that class…”

    ”I expected you’d inferred, as did I. What you say is true and I’m guessing you are already there, aren’t you, Grand Admiral?” Anakin held back a smile.

    ”I am,” said Thrawn in that quiet manner that some found smug, but which Anakin had come to learn was simply his manner of speech.

    The young Emperor sighed, “So... no point trying to play down the implications.” He had only to look at the unflappable Chiss to know that Thrawn was already well beyond whether this was meant as a single use and how the Naboo had gotten away with the construction and, thus, well on his way to discovering the purpose of the feat. Anakin tucked his head and narrowed his eyes. In fact, the Grand Admiral had probably worked out several possible reasons already.

    “It was her "mad money!" said Anakin with a snort. Thrawn’s image peered from the halo neutrally, but Anakin thought he saw a question about to be expressed, so he answered the one he anticipated. “‘Mad money.’ It's an antiquated term, I'm told, for an emergency fund, a means of making a quick and final exit from an untenable situation-typically, from the improper advances of a suitor.”

    Anakin’s small ironies seemed lost on Thrawn for a brief moment, till the Grand Admiral said, ”I see. In this’s a matter of perspective as to whom the role of suitor belongs.”

    Anakin was not liking the implications and he eyed the Grand Admiral darkly, sticking his thumbs in his belt. Too many questions! Was this Sabe’s doing? Whatever the case, the matter had come too far for him to suppress and as much as it irritated him to admit it, Thrawn was right-again!

    A deep breath later, Anakin continued, “There would have had to have been certain superstructural items to reinforce the tower and support both the dome and the ship-”

    “Of course,” Thrawn added, “otherwise there would be structural failure to the hosting tower and landing pad when the craft takes off. There is only a finite amount of space to fit things without dramatically altering the original facade of the structure-”

    ” -and the necessary components for a sound superstructure alone would have required particular materials that are rather expensive,” added the Emperor. They could try to bury the expense in other renovation projects within the Embassy....but they’d have to be substantial to warrant the support beams, the labor, and power supply, not to mention hydraulics...and the transportation and delivery would stand out in a ship’s manifest, those pieces would have been made to order in a foundry of note or possibly they could have been made at another construction site on Corusc...

    Thrawn stood, arm across his chest, and one finger thoughtfully pressed to his lower lip. “Agreed, that’s before considering the vessel itself. Components for a hyperdrive would be flagged unless they stripped it barebones and the ship requires a mothership, a secondary attachment with which to dock. Hiding as space debris in orbit or hosted at a separate facility… hidden in a warehouse or construction zone? A place that is less...conspicuous.”

    “Such as a swath of land and derelict buildings currently standing in unuse?” said Anakin looking to Thrawn, as the connective strands of this puzzle suggested possibilities the young Emperor in his mind’s eye.

    Nodding, Thrawn continued the thought, “The lower strata of Coruscant are vast; who knows what can be discovered the deeper one goes-”

    ”There is the ‘Dead zone.’” Yularen interrupted, aware of both sets of eyes turning to him. He risked a small smile, knowing he had caught them off guard. He double checked something on his datapad. He related to how the Queen had been prevented from escaping that way, however the ship still took off with one of their own agents inside. “It appears Ledaren Vos has come to the same conclusion since he is the one trailing the Flarestar. We’ve been tracking his course and his whereabouts place him within the vicinity of that collapse.”

    Thrawn inclined his head, a small nod to the Colonel, “Of course, no doubt there exists a place in which to hide a ship such as this small shuttle. With the broken geometry of the dilapidated grid, scanners would, with difficulty, differentiating the silhouette of a ship from amongst everything else.” Thrawn ended almost abruptly, eyes narrowing as he cocked his head to one side in thought.

    “That’s not all. It has also recently been a place of interest. Tycoon Elwis Bontraar had purchased land there for a large development project… Ah, this is interesting…there’s more...” Yularen read ahead before paraphrasing from a recent summary from ISB surveillance*. “ anchor Hgubmill was there barely a day ago doing coverage of the project…” He frowned. “... I need to track the appropriate files but it looks like there had been an incident recorded… a building had collapsed. A Health and Safety warning had been issued to the general public in the southwest precincts and zones surrounding the DZ, to keep away due prevailing winds carrying that might carry the dust, toxins and heavy metals that had been kicked up by the incident. Enforced a no fly zone to civilian craft… No doubt due to risk of clogging up the engine intakes… and for those in affect areas to stay indoors or wear rebreathers and filters until special emergency services can get a handle on it. Apparently there were casualties from the collapse, according to Hsur’s coverage…. described as Imperial assets… however... “ He checked a few things. “.... there had been no losses officially documented. Apart from the surveillance group ...none of our forces, across departments, had units in the area or scheduled exercises in the vicinity. Awfully convenient isn’t it for Hsur to be there when something critical happens and to record as the incident unfolds… I’ll have to dig some further on the matter.”

    “Yes, awfully,” said Anakin, nodding knowingly, employing the Colonel’s words and wishing he could follow Vos and aid in getting to the bottom of this. Vos was capable, he reminded himself and he needed to be at the reception. ”I was made aware of the incident by Hgubmil, himself. In fact, yesterday.” This he said tiredly. So there was a connection. He furrowed his brow and rubbed his eyes.

    “Ah, I see.” Yularen responded just as his communications unit chimed. A hand to his earpiece and glancing at the information displaying on his data pad, he was evidently listening closely to a transmission from the field agents.

    Anakin stepped to the ISB department head and looked at the data pad upon which the Colonel wrote a quick message, tilting the pad so that the Emperor could read. Anakin he did quickly and then began to communicate the information to Thrawn along with his own comments and concerns:
    "The ship departed in haste without their key passenger...why reveal the deception" the Emperor asked, more of himself than Yularen or Thrawn. “They wish to avoid confrontation - to spare any implications to their Queen...the Naboo are loyal to a fault, it is not for lack of courage they would leave. Why send them away? Why risk the discovery if she decided not to depart? Did she plan to depart in the first place? Did she give that order? Or was it someone else who did? An outside concern? And what if they aren’t Naboo? Rebels? Sabe would not have taken that particular chance...not on Coruscant!” Anakin asserted, as he looked to Yularen and then to Thrawn.

    A small sound of Yularen’s throat clearing as he looked from his datapad. “Or could be pertaining to one of her associates…”

    Anakin growled inwardly, tucked his head for a moment, then stretched his chin upward and exhaled.

    Yularen gazed at him for a few seconds before glancing back to the datapad as a new message pinged on the display. “There has been an update. The patrol craft carrying the Nabooian Queen, her handmaidens, Senator Owney and a Doctor Senob has requested clearance to land at the Senate Rotunda.” He looked back up expectantly. “Shall we receive them here, my lord?”

    TAG: To be continued
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  20. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OOC: A joint post with Corellian_Outrider, without whom this post could not have been written. Thank you.

    “Sometimes a Great Moment Goes...”

    IC: Director Orson Krennic, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, Governor Arhinda Pryce

    Location: Imperial Reception, Senate Atrium, Coruscant

    This was some swank party... people from different industries and social status were here in attendance. Politicians, military, industrial pioneers, entertainers. Walking with a glass flute in his hand, cape tucked back from one shoulder, Director Orson Krennic made his way into the heart of the attendees to this Royal Reception. A tight smile to himself. If not for his efforts and position, a man like himself would barely be allowed to attend an event like this. He was a working man, no fancy upbringing. However, his brilliant mind had lead him on this path and his work showed for it, for the most part. Of course, there were issues and delays though hopefully in time, they would be corrected, perfected. The impurities… eliminated.

    Flashing what he considered to be his debonair smile, he raised a glass as a small salute to capture the attention of one of the senators from an industrial world. It would be good to bend their ear a little to help with developments. However, before he could approach, ceremonious music started up and performers filed out, weaving between the guests with a flash of colour and costumes. A sea of red had cut off his path. His gaze followed their flow, and directed his attention to the dais where stood the new Empress-an image of shimmering silver glass, flowing dark hair, and eyes of pale cherry-amber-unusual and yet intriguing. Glancing about with difficulty, for it was hard to take his eyes from her, he noted the crowd has quieted and most seemed as curious as he was. He wondered what sort of woman she was who was Reina to Lord Vader’s Re and he found himself surprised. When he thought he might move closer, however, Krennic found himself hemmed in, a group of naval officers behind him, and Kavalad religious in front and off to either side by 10 beings or so were now chanting and playing musical instruments. The sound was mesmerizing and overwhelming.

    Arhinda Pryce was happy to be in Tarkin's company, particularly at such a high profile event as this reception to welcome the new Imperial family and celebrate the decade long Clone War's end. Just now, however, and for the Grand Moff's benefit, she sighed in frustration. They'd tried several avenues to access the mezzanine from which they strayed to speak privately about her pending official installation of governor of Lothal.

    "It seems we’re stuck!" she exhaled.

    As it happened, they found themselves in the company of a group of navy officers, a fact for which Arhinda was glad as it would give Tarkin more upon which to angle his piercing grey gaze. Best not to be the sole subject under that too scrutinizing a lens!

    "Hummmmm, divide and conquer, I should say. Perhaps I've underestimated the Urseans..." Grand Moff Tarkin mused, in jest, aloud.

    Arhinda leaned her ear closer, “I can hardly hear myself think. What was that?” she asked loudly, cupping a hand to direct her voice to Tarkin.

    Oh Thelassa would be noting how close to his side Ms. Pryce stood, how she leaned in, thought the Grand Moff to himself and finding this amusing, imaging his Lady’s vexation. "I said, they've divided the room up." He gestured to the columns of brightly embroidered red clothed Kavalad He chuckled-a rare occurrence, to Arhinda's experience of him. She stretched her slender neck up to look about for Grand Admiral Thrawn. She had a plan brewing in her mind and she was in her R&D mode at the moment. She nodded at Tarkin's comment, but had not put much by it at the moment.

    Tarkin knowingly eyed the new young governor of Lothal and sniffed wryly.

    Arhinda’s brows knit. She did not see the Chiss, who stood out like a jay among sparrows no matter where he was. She smirked to herself. Her thoughts interrupted, having been recognized by former Senator Renking who screwed up his over-full face into a tight smile and saluted her with a glass of spirit over the head of a lovely red-headed Captain. "Oh, that fatuous old..." she muttered under her breath and then realized the lady Captain, she’d nearly run into, might have mistaken Pryce’s muttered words as directed at herself, though the Captain, by her tiles, was hardly old, and anything but fatuous. "Oh, sorry, Do excuse me ...Captain..."

    From over Pryce’s shoulder, Tarkin’s voice interrupted her near self-introduction. "That would be Captain Scyther Vectis and her estimable group officers, “The Allstars,” if I am correct, which of course, I am-Captain Vectis, this is Governor Pryce of Lothal, well, newly made, not yet official. You may have heard of the rather recently discovered dunium deposits found on the planet in the Imperial mines..." (Arhinda made herself smile as he callously omitted her family mining company having made that discovery and the Imperial forcing out of her family’s claim.)

    Tarkin gestured to Scyther and her coterie of officers, as he stepped forward, an arm behind his back, nearly shouting the introductions. "Arhinda Pryce, Captain Scyther Vectis-Oh and my, this is quite the assemblage here," Tarkin said, gesturing everyone's gaze in the opposite direction, "Director Krennic!" Now Tarkin was obliged to introduce the man. "Governor Pryce, Captain Vectis, this is Director Orson Callan Krennic, Imperial Weapons Development and Engineering."

    The Grand Moff noticed the Captain seemed unable to respond. He smiled a crooked wry smile and said not particularly under his breath, “So much for a wasted effort!”

    He then turned to Krennic and continued, “I'm surprised you released yourself from the field testing, Director, with your deadline swiftly approaching."

    Krennic inwardly cringed as he was singled out, his name uttered by the voice of someone he utterly despised. He turned sharply, his cape flicked with the movement. "Thank you, Governor Wilhuff Tarkin. Sharp as always." Krennic ignored the ‘bait’ Tarkin tossed him for the moment, turning his attention to the two women, saying, "Charmed to finally meet you, Governor Pryce. Captain Vectis... Oh... you know what they say about all work and no play." Krennic showed a thin smile. No doubt Tarkin was already scheming a myriad of ways to undermine him.

    Neither one would speak further, but the dig would definitely be received in its fullest meaning. Tarkin was sure of that. His thin lips straightened into a fine line and he nodded to Krennic, murmuring, "Yes...."

    "Very good to meet you, Director Krennic, Captain Vectis," said Arhinda, extending her hand to shake, first Krennic's, after all, being director of Weapons development made him a potential benefit for Lothal, and thus herself; his projects would, no doubt, require much dunium.

    "The pleasure is all mine." Krennic insisted and he inclined his head, his gaze on her piercing blue eyes.

    The sound of the Kavalad religious, with their bells, gongs, and drums, the throat singing and now the antiphonal choirs made it necessary to nearly shout. Krennic held Pryce's gaze a moment longer than was comfortable, but she smiled amiably and noted the connection to be exploited.

    Interrupting, Tarkin said to Krennic and Pryce, "Captain Vectis and her group are part of the Emperor's own fleet, “Onslaught” and I understand distinguished themselves in our three theatre operation at Mygeeto." Tarkin smiled ingratiatingly to Scyther, finding the Captain’s inability to get a grip, tiresome. The deuce! He’d given her every opportunity and she had not capacity or creativity enough to grasp it when it presented itself. Initiative was the first hallmark of a leader and creativity, that of a successful tactician! For one about to receive a commendation, she seemed to show a distinct lack of either trait! Not worth courting!

    "Aren't we in splendid company?" Krennic taking another look at Captain Vectis

    Arhinda bit the inside of her lower lip. The Lady Captain not only a “looker,” she was a member of the Emperor's own fleet, though Tarkin seemed to have some disdain for her! Still, the company would certainly put her in a better position to make acquaintance with the highest authority in the Empire! Things were looking up in a very big way. However, Arhinda had to wonder if like herself, the Captain had had to make difficult choices, for with Arhinda’s successful climb to the top, there were friendships destroyed, left behind. Finding another woman of power in this rarefied circle was heartening, but then, the Captain seemed unable to talk and stood like a deer in the proverbial headlights. Stars! Was the Captain waiting for Tarkin to hand her a feast! There was something behind the scenes that was at play here.

    The moment proved excruciatingly awkward and Arhinda took a sip of her bubbly and turned toward the dais, Krennic doing the same. Tarkin, however gave Vectis a long hard stare before giving his attention to the Empress.

    TAG: Open
    Last edited: Feb 11, 2019
  21. pashatemur

    pashatemur Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jun 21, 2004
    OOC: Once again, a joint post with C_O. Thank you.

    IC: Marie-Celeste, Empress, Commissar Ahsoka Tano

    LOCATION: Coruscant, the Senate Atrium

    Before the choirs and percussion ended, Celeste had divested of the mitre and robes and now stood at the podium, crowds now thoroughly confused, feeling as if some change had been effected in them and they could not say what. Though the cultural introduction was both beautiful and engaging, it was clear it seemed alien and somehow intrusive, evoking in the attendees a heightened awareness that made them feel out of their element, vulnerable and yet excited and roused. Yet, the Kavalad, in the shape of Helera Weg Abbey, the Embassy, which now was the new Imperial Palace, had stood since long before the Old Republic upon the highest promontory on Coruscant!

    Celeste began to speak, telling herself to do so quietly, naturally. “You look upon me and I gaze upon you,” she paused and swallowed, “...forgetting my birth, my personal desires... even my names...and titles, of which Speaker Amadda has just reminded us, there are ...far too many.” She smiled and looked out over the crowded floor and then up to the balconies lined with spectators, and then to the security globes watching the watchers, her voice ringing as it was amplified and broadcast. Even on the monitor outside, she could see herself seeing herself, like an endless reflection.

    “This evening, we greet our future and see the past in one another’s eyes, even as we revel in the pomp and glitter of the moment. Here are gathered so many who have labored so long to bring this extended and bitter conflict to a close, though clad in military dress or splendid livery, ready to toast to a new day and glad to bid the past farewell, there is a bittersweetness to this moment. It is a lovely night, a splendid moment and yet the sdim just a bit, the elation of being free from the mad pace of war, dampened as I look upon you all, knowing you are someone’s mother, someone’s father, brother, sister, friend. How many of you can say, you not only lost an Emperor, you lost someone significant and dear to your household, your family? So many!”

    “Born in conflict, the times unsteady, our hands and feet so quick to the call and our house raised against a darkening sky, the Empire rose to meet the dissolution of the last days of the Republic. There was no time to draw the beam or strutt secure and level. With industry was bent for war, many sacrificed, did without, were uprooted, and worse. Yet, night fell upon the enemy, now in the light of war’s end we see more clearly. Time to bury the past and with it, so many names that are silent on our lips, but not in our hearts.”

    “Now you have new names, unpracticed, some known to you, some not. Yet, they come with import, they, like all names must carry meaning, a pledge. I give my name to you this night, as does the Emperor that they who sacrificed are not forgotten, not lost, not given in vain. Release your loss, and send the departed out to the universe in thankful grace, give them to the peace they deserve, and let us resolve that we create better worlds for their passing. Let us open our hearts that we lately stoned against the conflict and loss. Violence and death have come too easily to us. Let us be attentive, not unguarded, but tender. Let us invite the innovative, the magnificent and the precise, let us weigh our stores and clean house, set the beams level, the supports true, the furnishings to rights, and cherish what is honored by time and welcome the cry of the newborn!”

    “We will celebrate them all, even the enemy, and we will resolve to build a more solid house, a union, and home not only in our hearts, but with our hands, with our ingenuity and industry to sing in our very bones and sinews, as a monument and a reminder of the cost of our hubris! Let us be better for our children, if not for ourselves, and for our future. Thus, my name and that of the Emperor, they are our promise, the first of many to serve toward our mutual futures, whither I go, so shall you all- we serve this honor, that no more will they who have gone before, go without our grace and gratitude! Let hearts, hands, and minds be given to it! Everyone has their place in this future, therefore, let all envision it, let all speak to it, let all build it, and let all share in it.”

    “As a shield and beacon, we will take up the banner and lead you out of this sinking war, to peace and to strength. It is not with magic or empty words, but with your will, your participation, and your dreams that we will stand up and rebuild. I am ready to roll up my sleeves. We will take our staves and mallets, and apply ourselves, we will rise up and create, build, clean, and make new. I cannot wait! I am ready to be stronger, ready to be prosperous, ready to meet the challenges of our future.

    Yet, with challenge, there will be change and few are born who desire change. However, change is the hand maid of time and time yields to none, it’s pace, prescribed. When compared to the uncertainty of time to come, our former riches seem always to surpass the promises of the future. Who has not held fast to the ephemeral past as investment in a phantom bounteous future. Let us not be craven, for the present is already the past. They say you can not take it with you. Let us not be like the miser at sea, grasping the weighted, painted and bass bouillon to our chests, never facing the reality of it’s fatal cost!

    These are not empty words. This is a promise. Is there an actionable mandate here? Yes! Be as eager as a lover, beings! Be like a child! Let your hardened hearts melt and grasp the wisdom in your neighbor’s eye, for a rigid or a craven crew will see the ship sink, but together we will sail free of hidden shoals. Let us run to the future and embrace it. Starting with tonight, the war is over. What better way to renew than to celebrate in the fellowship of new friends and good company!”
    she declared raising her arms to surprisingly, uproarious applause and cries of elation, for there certainly were some who did not find her words uplifting or welcome. Yet, the orchestra welled with some popular melody and the crowds began to amble about, coalescing into convivial smaller groups or making their way onto various dance floors or back to tables and seating areas scattered about the main floor and the balconies that looked over the dais and dancers on the main floor of the Atrium below.

    Celeste left the podium without further ceremony and with some shaking steps, yet exquisite comportment, made her way back to the simple upholstered benches that served as “thrones,” neither of any difference from similar such benches about the public space. As she sank gracefully but with effort, she wanted to laugh and cry, but did neither. Certainly she’d made gaffs and mistakes, poor choices of wording, and repetitions, but she’d committed to those words, and the extemporaneous speech was already a bird on the wing. No regrets!

    “I’d like a of water,” she said to no one in particular, such that within seconds she was offered at least 7 glasses full. She could not see for a moment, or distinguish one face from another until she spied the warm tone and blue and white stripes of the Commissar and she called to her, “Ahsoka!”

    “Ahsoka...I ca...can’t remember what I said. I was ... anxious not to put a word wrong!” she shivered and smiled, placed a hand over the top of the glass to keep from continuing to splash water from it as she shook. ” me it was h...alright!

    Ahsoka had a delighted expression on her face as though trying to hold back a cheer. “You were amazing!” She hissed, trying not to shout or squeal. She crinkled her nose and grinned. “You addressed them, asked them to move forward as one and embrace peace and to celebrate. A positive message annnnd... You had them cheering.”

    Celeste listened and nodded almost in disbelief, “Oh they are! Let’s hope that feeling can be made to last.”

    She reached to Ahsoka and drew her into an enthusiastic hug.

    Hugging, careful not to crumple Celeste’s gown, Ahsoka whispered in her ear. “You certainly knocked the head off that battle droid.” She chuckled. “What should we do now? Take on a Super?”

    “I...m...m..must, fir..fir...first of all!” said Celeste, trying to keep from spilling her water, she was trembling so. She could not fathom why this was different than making public addreses in Ursa.

    “Hmmm… okay… you did it.” Ahsoka said. “You can breathe and I am here with you,”

    Celeste smiled brokenly to Ahsoka as she leaned her forehead to the Commissar’s. “Handlers and the speech writers are probably having fits, but I did do it. Låt oss dansa..., I mean, let us dance, for soon I will be glued to this spot to receive guests.” she looked off to the side and saw a line already forming.”Oh!” she said under her breath in consternation.

    She looked up to Ahsoka and steepled her fingers to her lips - still no sign of Anakin!

    “Gruss Seele!” she exclaimed clapping her hands together and rising. “Convention has flown for the evening, thus, we shall proceed. In custom, a royal pair must take the first dance, opening the floor to all. These beings need an occupation to give them a better pursuit than confusion and intrigue and they need it now before they get up to mischief.” Celeste looked about quickly and smiled wistfully, seeing Han standing with Sophia. The comparisons would be too unkind that a boy could do the Emperor’s job. Celeste shook her head. Anyone else would be seen as a political choice. “ So,” said Celeste looking to Ahsoka and lifting her chin, “Ahsoka Tano...Commissar...I most graciously request that you accompany me to the dance floor and for the sake of the Empire, deign to give me this dance!” The Empress made a slow small courtly bow.

    Ahsoka’s mouth opened before widening to smile and then closed. Her cheeks warmed, the request had been unexpected. However, it made sense since Anakin was not here and he had empowered her to be his proxy in his absence. She responded to the bow. “It would be an honour, my...your Majesty.”

    Celeste gave a silent little laugh and smiled gratefully to Ahsoka. “Lady Thalia,” said Celeste, “have the orchestra play a Seguidilla of Ursa and send the ladies of the Court to dance with us so we may show how it is done.”

    Thus, when Elwis Bontraar and his retinue arrived after the Duchess Atreides, all eyes were upon the Empress and his passage to his tables relatively swift, though, not exactly to plan. Still, His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Vader or whatever he chose to call himself, was most distinctly not in attendance! Bontraar smiled knowingly.

    TAG: Please do not wait to be tagged directly. The tag is open for obvious reasons.
    Last edited: Feb 13, 2019
  22. TheAdmiral

    TheAdmiral Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Mar 28, 2004
    IC: Lord Admiral James Xavier, duchess Jori Atreides, Dennii/Drakoniss Sunwalker
    Location: Senate Atrium, Coruscant

    Jori looked around. She felt right in her element. In the mix of political intrigue. For now she was in the sidelines, which was good enough for now. She needed to get her bearings first. For all its posturing the Union worked best in the shadows. That has always been the case. The display of military muscles was a façade, just for show. The Union was slow and methodical adding poison to the Outsiders’ society. There was nothing the Great Houses wouldn’t do to achieve their goals lie, cheat, murder, bribe all those things the squeamish Republic officially shunned but unofficially liked.

    She noted some figures that were sympathetic or at least neutral towards the Union. She needed to talk to them. Of course they will be reluctant until Lord Vader’s position was clearer. Jori didn’t hold that against them, it was the natural thing to do. The CSS had briefed her about some potential conflict within the Empire, something that could be useful, though she needed to thread carefully as not to get too entangled in the Imperial’s internal power-struggle. She saw Tarkin of Eriadu, that man was an enigma, even to her intelligence service. All they knew was that he was loyal to Palpatine, so Jori surmised that he would probably resent Vader. She took note not to pick sides. It was far too early and would easily backfire if she tried any of the usual Union stunts. For now she would just be a spectator, nothing more.

    Jori was looking for the Corellian Senator. Corellia was one of the few close “friends” of the Union. There was a list of Senators and heads of megacorps to meet during her visit. She saw the Alderaanian Senator, Organa, with a little girl, the Princess, she took note to try to speak with him too. The Alderaanians were far too peaceful for her taste, but her other side of the family, the Corrinos, had been dealing with them providing relief for Outer Rim worlds. ‘Should have talked with uncle Macarius.’ she thought, maybe would need to call him afterwards to see if some common points can be established. She looked around to see Admiral Veroti. She was hoping that she would meet him at the reception. Maybe have a dance or two. Hopefully there would be some chance for that.

    Jori gave a silent sigh, if only her people didn't act as children. She wished that she had already consolidated her power so that she would have spoken with the full authority of the Union as opposed to now where she spoke only on behalf of the half who supported her. That was a fact she did not want to announce. For the Outsiders she was the ruler of the Union.

    She thought about what was going on back home. A small purge was ongoing. Some Bene Gesserits, Inquisitors and other helpers were being rounded up by the CSS. She had given the order before she went to the limo. Hopefully it will be done quickly and efficiently, not allowing her enemies to counteract. There will be retaliation for sure so she will have to sacrifice some of her people. The duchess was sure that the media had a field day the duchess on Coruscant, the blockade, the new Atreides princess, the assassination attempt, the arrests. For now the public opinion was on her side. At least the Grand Cleric was her ally so he was going to declare the conspirators to be heretics, which she had to admit was a way for her enemies to wash their hands and distance themselves.

    Jori was hoping that her grandmother was keeping things under control. The irony was that she was one of the few people whom she trusted to some degree. The duchess was not the trusting sort, it was a survival trait as the backstabbing was Union tradition. Something she suspected was true for the rest of the Galaxy. That was just how politics worked. That was also the reason she did not trust idealists. They were external actors who obeyed different set of rules, ones that she was not familiar with. Jori hoped that Vader and the Empress were not idealists as it would have made things harder. That was one of the reasons she did not support the ARR. Besides they wouldn’t want to have anything with the Union.

    At least the Jedi were no more. They were a hindrance. The Order always kept an eye on them. There were always Jedi Watchmen as they called themselves. Always snooping around, influencing politics. Her own father was mesmerised by these conjurers of cheap tricks. The Bene Gesserits were too, she could see the Mother Superior and the other witches drooling at the sight of a Jedi. Jori however was not swayed by their aura, she did not trust them, nor their intentions. Dennii was an exception but she was as far of being a true Jedi as possible. She was her eyes and ears within the Order. Not that she could provide them with a lot of data, but even the small portions were very useful. The CSS recorded everything and had it analysed.

    Speaking of Dennii, Jori turned to see her sister. She frowned as she could see that she could not stand properly on her legs. Was she drinking!? A cold fury started to rise in her mind. If she saw her drinking alcohol again she took a mental note to slap her. She was not afraid to make a scene, not when Dennii’s health was at stake. Jori felt sorry for her, she must have been through a lot and somewhere along the way she must have broken down. The duchess wished she could help her heal but the times were dangerous as they were. The Galaxy was undergoing change and it brought uncertainty, and that in turn brought potential problems.

    The Union too was undergoing changes. Ones that she had initiated several years ago with the help of the CSS and her other allies. She wished she could provide safety for her sister, but the truth was that her life was more in danger. At any moment a civil war could erupt in the Union. That would not be the usual directed conflict, but all out chaos. She was fighting forces that had been digging in for centuries. They were influential people who wanted to direct the Union and more specifically to control her. Jori was aware that her so called allies were not in any way better, but she could not stomach being influenced by the Bene Gesserits. There can be no bystanders in the battle for survival. Anyone who will not fight by your side is an enemy you must crush. That was the maxim she was following in this coming struggle.

    Jori chuckled as she remembered a quote from Petreus Corrino, who had been facing similar circumstances ‘Victory? What use is victory? Let me have a battle of annihilation.’ Those words rang true to her. She was going to annihilate her enemies or die trying.

    She remembered one of the last conversations with her father. One evening, he came to see her, to offer reconciliation after their fight. She remembered that he looked resigned and tired… not tired… exhausted. He sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her for a few moments. There they were staring into each other’s eyes, then he spoke “Beautiful on the surface, but rotten underneath. Danger does not always come in the shape of outsiders with blasters, Jori. This world is where the elite of the Union have gathered. We are talking now of the most ruthless, ambitious, unscrupulous collection of rogues ever culled from a million planets. This is the place they have come to realise their ambitions, and on Kaitain they can, and will not let anything stand in their way. Not me, not you, not their own kin if need be.” then she remembered that she felt tears trickling down her cheeks so he added, a bit sternly ”Do not waste your tears. I was not born to watch the world grow dim. Life is not measured in years, but by the deeds of men. Only in your deepest self is the truth of what you can be. And, without a doubt, that truth is terrible to bear.” then he sighed when she asked him what to do ”There is no right or wrong in our profession. The present changes the past from moment to moment. Only pray for the future to vindicate your action.”

    ”The warrior who acts out of honour cannot fail. His duty is honour itself. Even his death - if it is honourable - is a reward and can be no failure, for it has come through duty. Seek honour as you act, therefore, and you will know no fear.” was the guiding principle that he followed. It was out of the Royal Guards’ Codex Astartes. The problem was that it made him inflexible and that lead to his untimely demise. He also liked to quote the Codex Uniatis:

    ”What is the terror of death?
    That we die our work incomplete
    What is the joy of life?
    To die knowing our task is done.”

    Something caught her attention. It was the Empress’ speech. She could tell that it was not prepared by professional speechwriters. It was a tad naive which brought a thin smile on her. Jori was a cynic, for the Union everything was struggle. Peace was a beautiful fantasy, but progress always comes during strife. Peace brought stagnation and complacency. The Empire wouldn’t survive without an enemy, without struggle.

    Someone touched her elbow, it was Dennii.

    “Some guy is watching us.” she hissed.

    Jori frowned and looked around, then saw an Ursean in military uniform watching them. She nodded to him then turned back to Dennii.

    “Well I don’t blame him.” she grinned “Also you would like to cut on the drinking. I can smell the alcohol in your breath.” Jori hissed seriously but maintaining the smile for anyone who could be watching them.

    She could see Dennii’s eyes welling “Bbbut...”

    “No buts, you won’t do it anymore. You will behave yourself.” Jori said sternly “I am the head of this House and you will obey me.”

    TAG: Viggo, Anyone else
    Last edited: Feb 13, 2019
  23. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~IC~Rowan Halcyon
    Location: Selonia

    Being a knight of the Corellian Order, it was trained as a prerequisite to understand those native of the Corellian System. The Corellian Humans, Selonians and Drall all make up the different facets of Corellian Society and what makes them stand out from the rest of the galaxy. From what I knew of the Selonians, they were a close knit society, all for the betterment of the den. The Elders were acting peculiar, very skittish.

    Something had them spooked, the lot of them. Something to do with… coincidences? It was hard to tell as I am a bit rusty with Mandaba or maybe their dialect has spun off from what I had been taught. The Elders were talking amongst themselves their concerns about safety in these turbulent times?

    I had thought my name would have given some ease, some credence to our case. What with being hailed as the "Hero of Corellia" for the liberation of our kingdom from the Sith Empire in recent history and yet… it felt as though that had done us no favours and created more questions.

    Whatever is going on, they seemed protective, evasive, indecisive. And what was with Nejaa? Nejaa Seiriol-Nye? No, Solkrest? Had Feye publicly announced our relationship? But they would have said Feye, not Nejaa… Nejaa Halcyon? Who was this Nejaa?

    There was no point in giving voice to these questions yet. Maybe some answers will present themselves back at the village. I mused as Nayarue lead us back along the way we came.

    Kaylee asked her about her home, keeping things in a positive light. Nayarue perked up and regaled us with stories of her childhood, the mischief she had gotten into, about her father and how he had taught her the ways of the weather and currents.

    I kept half an ear to the discussion as I remained watchful of our surroundings. The mood of the population seemed relaxed, cheerful… festive. A massive contrast to the council of the Elders. Maybe they know something the people do not… and what then? More questions. I caught a few words from some of the people. Something about an event ending, that loved ones returning home…. I tried to recall back to the classroom, the social studies as a youngling and padawan, was there a rite of passage? The harvest?

    We found ourselves outside, going along the winding path down on the slopes and into the jungle below. By the time we arrived at the village, the sky had darkened. Percussive drumming greeted our ears and the streets were illuminated by flame torches.

    “This way,” Nayarue eagerly took Kaylee’s and my hands and half-dragged us, half-lead us in the direction of the shore. “They are almost starting.”

    There was a gathering on the beach. A fire pit, several dancers around, a few percussionists creating the rhythm for the dance while the rest formed a circle around.

    Nayarue whispered they are celebrating the end of the war, their children will be returned to them and a bright future.

    I didn't want to show ignorance, yet needed to know the details. "I've missed the announcement, which side won?"

    She laughed "We wouldn't be celebrating if it were the Separatists. Hopefully with the war over, they will take the pressure off our resources and industry and no need for mass production of warships. A chance to recover and focus on prosperity."

    There was something cynical in her voice. "You have your doubts?"

    "Republic, Empire…" Her voice low. "They haven't really changed their stripes much… however, with the end of the war, the clean up can happen and hopefully we can go about our ways of life."

    Nodding in understanding. "Nothing really goes back to the way it was." Relating to first hand experiences. Some worlds worlds are ignored or took so long before anything is done to stabilise war torn areas. However, with Corellia's importance, no doubt the priority of the system would guarantee faster action. What concerned me was the factions of the war.

    Again, this mentioning of 'Separatists', a war against the Empire, war against Republic… were there three factions? Maybe the so called Duchess Atreides had some glimmer of truth… and that was of immense concerned. Gone was the Galactic Republic? The Sith Empire taken over or had the two factions merged into a Galactic Empire… The nagging doubts that things are not right, out of sync with the reality I knew… and there is still more that needs to be learnt.

    Nayarue introduced us to a few notable figures of the workers village who welcomed us with open arms. Before I knew it, I found myself in a conversation about hunting and fishing techniques. Kaylee politely excused herself, catching my eye, a subtle nod as we silently communicated with each other. Always thoughtful, she was seeking to find more pieces to the puzzle.

    ~IC~ Kaylee Halcyon

    Kaylee allows herself be lead from point to point, taking in everything, it was a way to absorb as much as possible and to fit in. It was certainly a celebration. Music, dancing, singing, food and drinks… they really went all out. Bless their souls. The food was divine, a variety of seafood and meats, fresh fruit. Sweet and sour combinations, some mixed with herbs and spices. A culinary delight and great to have real food for a change. The people were welcoming, very inclusive. It was hard not to get caught up in the spirit of things except for the fact that their fate, Rowan and hers, was undecided.

    When there was a lull in the proceedings, Kaylee slipped away to walk along the shoreline. With being so close to home, it ever felt so far away. Corellia, that twinkling jewel in the night sky, outshining the other celestial bodies in the heavens. Just one more day… she told herself as she moved away from the light of the fires. The lovely cool breeze coming off the water, the lapping waves washing over her feet.

    There were questions, she asked plenty of them… yet, the answers she seem to get from the locals just did not quite match what she knew. She noticed a similar frustration from Rowan too. Had they been so far out of touch since they had left all those months ago? Her foot brush over a shell and she nudged it to the water came up and kissed her ankles.

    Had they messed up so badly? She glanced back over her shoulder to see the dark shapes of people backlit by the firepits, a cheerful melody carried in the air. She smiled lightly. Leave luck to heaven, she mused, or everything is by the will of the Force, as Kal would say… she bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow as she thought of the former Jedi Master. The man was like a brother to her, his household had taken her when she was little, after she had been found on a desert world and no clue as to where her parents had ended up. She frowned, then she sighed. It had been some time since she had heard from him.

    Kaylee gazed out over the moonlight glassy surface of the sea, comlink in hand as she pondered what would be the best thing to do. She eventually noticed the tug and pull of the water, each wave undermined the sand from under her feet and felt herself sinking slowly. She moved out of the surf, the last thing she wanted was to fall face first in. As she made her way to the tree line, the sands making squishing sounds with each step.

    Ariek would know... being the one coordinating everyone’s efforts, no doubt Kal’s wife would be in the know. More importantly, she would be able to get an update on Se’s condition. She hoped beyond hope that her condition had improved. Glancing about, before sidling up next to a palm, she contacted the Icarus.

    TAG: Ariek, Meril Blanik
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  24. Corellian_Outrider

    Corellian_Outrider Admin FF | Curator: Art&RPF | Oceania RSA | CR NSW star 6 Staff Member Administrator

    Mar 9, 2002
    ~OOC~ Special thanks to @pashatemur for your feedback and assistance on this post.

    IC: Survivors of the Hidden Dagger
    Location: On board the ISD Hidden Dagger’s bow section - Coordinates just off the confluence of the Hydian Way and Perlemian Trade Route - Core Worlds

    The small group of survivors sweated time. Each passing minute, to which they clung, inexorably lost. Everyone of them knew death in space was a risk, but the massive ship’s systems and thick hull made them feel safe...until now. Heat was building as the ship’s systems struggle to maintain the environmental presets and slowly, they were joined by others who had made their way up from engineering and the administrative sections of the Star Destroyer. Now they were 43-officers, troopers, noncom, and staff.

    The light dimmed and flickered and in the fluctuating low light, Lieutenant Cornelius Dei noted fear in the eyes of some of the new arrivals. Some of them had been obviously wounded with dark stains on uniforms, makeshift bandages from torn sleeves and various cuts. There was one amongst them coordinating the group and so Dei sought out their 'leader'. A man he had seen before but could not remember his name.

    "Are you the last of them?" He asked.

    "I wouldn't expect anymore." The man pointed to two of his group and pointed to the access way they came from. "Seal those doors."

    “Seal those doors?” Dei frowned, why would they cut off access to that section? "We might need to go out that way."

    "No, not that way. If you want to live, I suggest we go deeper into the ship, make our way to the bridge." He moved onto another group carrying crates and gave instructions: "This is a junction point, they'll have to pass through here so we set up a turret to slow the bastards down."

    "Excuse me?” Dei interrupted. “What do you mean? If we head to the bridge, we could lose some along the way. There’d be no escape there if the escape pods have been jettisoned. We’d be trapped."

    "We cannot stay here…At least we might live longer."

    "Keep your voices down, we don't want to cause a panic." Dei reprimanded him.

    “Look…” He pointed his finger at Dei.

    “Lieutenant Cornelius Dei, and you are?”

    “Starfighter Commander Floyd Cynus“ The man answered. “I suspect you have no idea what is going on.”

    That made Dei hesitate. “We were struck by an asteroid. Our bow section is mangled from the tractor beam housing along to… as far as I know, the secondary hangar. There are issues with the auxiliary power reactor which has caused fluctuating power distribution to key systems. There has been trouble with some of the blast doors, life support and gravity. Some holds we might not be able to access, some could be depressurised-”

    “That’s the least of your troubles.” His voice was a harsh whisper, cutting Dei off. “It was no accident, we are under attack.”

    Under attack. He had not wanted to let that be known to the others about them. Most of them had minimum combat experience, their stations are relegated to administrative duties keeping the ship running efficiently and the stores full of supplies and materials.

    There was a skittering sound, as though something was scurrying within the bulkheads. It was unnatural and sent a shiver down Dei’s back.

    "We don't have much time, get your group ready to move."

    A loud bang erupted from the blast door, pieces ricocheted about the hall. Inwardly, the two troopers cringed at the noise. Once it all subsided, the smoke fading, they could not hear any follow up sounds.

    Entering through the gap they had made, they proceeded further. Some doors were sealed, some were left open. It was quiet, the eeriness of empty halls, the lighting flashing and going dark, before starting up again in emergency red, then switching to white before going out again. It was unnerving though several minutes had passed before they finally found a section with a viewport to indicate they were at the outer sections of the destroyer.

    "I think we can get a signal from here."

    A skittering sound reverberated through the bulkheads, the troopers both looked to one another in silent query. They were both unsure whence is was coming, but both were trained warriors and pushed down the anxiety the sound stirred in each. Yet, as they caught sight of movement from the corner of their eyes, turning their heads, only a glimpse of a silhouette outside the viewport was all they caught. It could have been debris hitting the hull, they agreed. But it could have been an echo from either above or below.

    The troopers waited a moment, looking down the corridors for any other signs of movement. Waiting to hear if that sound would return. Counting from a minute, it all seemed clear.

    "Now or never..."

    "CQ CQ, This is Stormtrooper Lance Corporal Jol Owens, of the Hidden Dagger, seeking anyone out there, repeat, Lance Corporal Jol Owens of the Hidden Dagger seeking anyone out there. I don't know if you are reading this, but we have suffered severe casualties, the survivors are in mortal danger. We need you to send rescue immediately… location are at the..."

    TAG: Imperial convoy, anyone else who might be listening in on the transmission
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  25. Ominous

    Ominous Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 30, 2004
    General Praetorian Darkeyes - Supreme Commander of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, Captain Galen of the Dreadnaught-Class Heavy Cruiser Storm’s Eye, the Dreadnaught’s escort of four CR90 Corvettes and two MC30c frigates, Titan’s Fist and Destroyer’s Nightmare

    The other comm officer aboard the Storm’s Eye was scanning other frequencies in the immediate area when he heard the following come through on his headset:

    "CQ CQ, This is Stormtrooper Lance Corporal Jol Owens, of the Hidden Dagger, seeking anyone out there, repeat, Lance Corporal Jol Owens of the Hidden Dagger seeking anyone out there. I don't know if you are reading this, but we have suffered severe casualties, the survivors are in mortal danger. We need you to send rescue immediately… location are at the..."

    He leaned into his console subconsciously and played back the message.

    "CQ CQ, This is Stormtrooper Lance Corporal Jol Owens, of the Hidden Dagger, seeking anyone out there, repeat, Lance Corporal Jol Owens of the Hidden Dagger seeking anyone out there. I don't know if you are reading this, but we have suffered severe casualties, the survivors are in mortal danger. We need you to send rescue immediately… location are at the..."

    “Chief?” He glanced over at the chief of the watch. “I have something here you may want to listen to.”

    The Chief took the headset from the comm officer and listened. His eyebrow raised at the message. He handed back the headset and swiveled his head to find his captain. She was standing at another comm station further down the line with General Torian.

    “Captain? You’ll want to hear this.”

    “Put it on the overhead Chief.” She ordered.

    One flick of the switch and the stormtrooper’s frantic message was heard throughout CIC.

    Torian stood up from his chair and looked at Captain Galen. She must have read his mind.

    “I don’t think it’s a trap General. Then again, Ackbar is not here and he can usually sniff these out.”

    He glanced at the Imperial ship from the view port which had the organic “rock” attached to its hull. What the hell is that thing?”

    “Captain, do you have any idea what that thing is attached to the ship? At this point I’ll take anybody’s thoughts.” He looked around the CIC.

    Galen furrowed her brow. “It is definitely organic that is for sure.” She turned to her chief. “Zoom in on the hull of the Star Destroyer. I want a clearer visual.”

    “Aye, Captain.” He turned to bark the order. “Give me a clean visual on the SD.”

    With a few buttons pushed and turned, a clear visual of the Destroyer’s hull was projected on the screen. “Pan across the hull.”

    “Aye, panning across the hull.” The asteroid-looking organic came into view. She pointed her finger at it. “THERE! See that, it looks like sea coral. And seems to be moving.”

    “Whatever it is, it ain’t friendly.” Torian interjected. Geez, this was supposed to be a simple grab and bag operation. He thought to himself.

    “Captain Galen, reach out to that stormtrooper. Keep up the ruse too. I don’t want those Imperials to get itchy trigger fingers. I’d hate to lose that cargo ship.”

    “Yes General.”

    Flipping a switch on the comm console, she spoke. “Lance Corporal Owens, this is Professor Skolnik of the research vessel Genesis. We have a visual on your ship. What sort of mortal danger are you in? We’re just a research team. Can you describe what is going on?”

    She flipped off the comm.

    TAG: TAG: Captain Malcovich, Captain M’rissa Braun, Captain Babbit and crews of the Zandra - EF76 Nebulon B escort, Fortunata - Star Galleon freighter, and Soubise - EF76 Nebulon B escort, Jerrod-Lennox: Commander Xi Lian of the Roi’k chuun m’arh frigate, Flames of Death and Commander Cha’Gara of the Yorik stronha, Sacrificial Honour; Corellian_Outrider: Survivors of the Hidden Dagger