Diplomacy Empire Day | GE Consecration of Imperial Center

[Aiden Porte]

OBJ-2
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aiden remained vigilant as his eyes kept a good watch of his surrounding. Ready for anything that might spring up and surprise them, he could only imagine what was going through the minds of the younglings. But no doubt they showed true spirit and resolve as they followed Cora's lead and didn't miss a beat. The Jedi Knight took a deep breath as he watched them board and he showed a small smile. It didn't seem like it, because of what was going on. But this was indeed a small victory for the Jedi, this meant that those young ones could live on and regroup as the rest of them would. Aiden would do his best to see too that and support Cora for as long as she needed.

She had returned to his side and the pressed back further into the Temple to look for any stragglers that they came upon a rather loud group of Imperials.

"They certainly are loud,"

"I'll draw their attention. Go around and approach them from behind."

"Understood...." Aiden spoke as he did exactly as she had instructed, moving around the pillars and all the debris providing him cover. Cora launched her attack as it drew their attention and once that was done he leaped from his location. His blade igniting as he cut those few down within reach, clearly distracted and surprised with the attack from behind. He moved with quick precision and his hand shot forward sending a wave of energy towards a trio of Imperials. They flew back hitting the debris behind them and they didn't get back up. He moved upwards, cutting through the rest of them to make his way back to Cora, just as the those that were in the front were advancing on her.

Their numbers were dwindling quickly.

 

[Sharad Dhavale]

TYTHON

Echo Squad
Gamma Platoon
Second Prefsbelt Exile Brigade​

Corazona von Ascania ​

PFC Clararck trundled over first with a grunt, followed by Sharad, Granger and Rickhard. The other two managed to stabilise their gravity on some pillars as the floor quaked. “Hostiles!” Marr snapped. Sharad was pinned underneath his pack and wheezed, “They’ve deployed telekinetic countermeasures.” The Corporal barked, gesturing in the general direction of Corazona, “That vector there.” Marr took cover behind the column, and opened fire, maser bolts spraying wildly in her general direction.

“Grenades!” Rickhard snapped, picking himself up. He began to approach Sharad, firing from his hip with his Volkswaffe rifle. With one arm, he lifted the pack, allowing Sharad to pick his scrawny ass up. Dhavale winced as he was hauled up. He had landed face first into the hard rubber of the mask and the stinging from his nose caused tears to well.“Pop ‘em now!” Three for the squad reached for their grenades and moved for cover.

The grenades landed all across the room, and after a good five seconds began to hiss like snakes. A deep, blood red Vapor began to pour from the canisters. Blood. Blood frozen and now searingly warm as the grenades went from -21 to 200+ degrees in 4.89 seconds flat. But it wasn’t just blood in those grenades. It had been infected with an ancient bacteria. The ones from Sharad’s ancient homeworld of Pa’Desh. This brood, bred within the confines of a comatose Padawan’s bloodstream had been developed to confuse and disorient Force Users. As well as those who huffed far too much of it. Sharad panicked a little. He was not certain if the copper taste on his tongue originated in the air or from his surely broken nose.

Training overtook his fear and the imperial sprinted toward the nearest pillar, ducking behind it. He was followed by Granger, armed with the MmG. “Plug me in, idiot.” Sharad nodded, and reached for the cord. Dhavale carried the battery pack for the squads Masermaschinengewehr, the squad automatic weapon. Using the tripod, Granger mounted the weapon using a field tripod, and began to let rip. The other members of Echo having fanned out into cover, firing at Corazona, and damaging the pillars. “Woo!” Granger whooped, “That’s right assholes! Eat Maser!”

“Granger, Dhavale!” Both soldiers turned to their sergeant, “Movement.” Rickhard snapped, “Ninety degrees west.” Sharad turned, “Movement.” Sharad spotted two padawans to their left. Ducking and weaving through the columns. Sharad exchanged a look with Granger. Despite the red lenses of the mask, Dhavale knew he was grinning. Clasping the barrel of the MMG, and with Granger physically shifting it with heavy grunts, they quickly reoriented the emplacement.

A ‘click’ served to inform them the battery was connected. Granger then let rip with a sadistic cackle. “Go home Je-dai!” The auxiliary cackled, “Yah Senators lied to you, Je-dai!” Sharad unslung his rifle from his shoulder, and let rip as well. Granger fired in wide arcs, trying to catch the flanking padawans. “Your masters have ordered you to die Je-dai!” Granger snarled, firing into the mist. Sharad opted to lob one of his own ravenous grenades into the mix. “Now go home Je-dai!”

“Go home or die!”

 

[Khronas]

THE IMPERIAL PALACE, CORUSCANT IMPERIAL CENTER

While the celebrations raged on the steps of the Imperial Palace, deep beneath the sacred site, a long figure worked.

Cloaked in the uniform of the Dark Side Elite, he sat alone and cross-legged on the floor of an abandoned classroom in what had been the New Jedi Order’s. The most powerful Jedi in living memory had once walked these halls, legends such as Auteme , Asmundr Varobalder , Ryv , Bernard and Henna Ashina , has once walked these halls. But now, their temple was corrupted, their order in ruins. Those that had taken their mantle had crumbled under the might of the Galactic Empire.

Khronas adjusted the small fusion furnace before him, carefully manipulating the control circuit as he followed the sage words of the Sith holocron opened on the floor beside him. His instructor, a long-dead Sith Lord, was taking the Darksider on an important journey, guiding him on a task journey that would shape his future.

Building his first lightsaber.

While many Sith corrupted kyber crystals stolen from Jedi, Khronas had no interest in the interfior ‘bled crystals’. The taint of the Jedi could never be removed. A synthetic crystal, grown into existence under his watchful vigil, was the only way to ensure purity. Through the Force, the Siniteen could influence every molecule of the crystal as it came into being, removing any chance of minor defects inherent to naturally grown crystals. The old ways were better.

Satisfied his eidetic memory had memorised the instructions, Khornas closed his eyes and fell into meditation. The dark currents of the corrupted Force nexus beneath the Imperial Palace washed over him, granting him unrivalled focus and power. Reaching out, he could feel the raw materials in the furnace begin to come to life, bonding together under the extreme heat and pressure.

Khronas took a deep breath and began the tedious task of crafting the perfect lightsaber crystal, one atom at a time.

 

[Seer'aa Barran]

Information

Daughter of the Mawite Khan, Heathen Priestess Novice, Dark Side Elie Apprentice​

"Galactic Common" | <"ur-Kittat"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Family History
Location: Gound, Tython
Equipment: Attire || OPBC-01m
Tags: Thomas Barran

To the young girl, the landscape was nothing more than a beautiful view; for now, it didn’t mean much. Of course, she knew important events had once taken place here, but she had no idea where; not exactly. What she did know was that this world had seen numerous key moments for the Clan, both in the recent past and even earlier. By “earlier,” she meant before she was even born.

She knew many had given their lives here so that the Dark Three might grow stronger. Many had gone to Paradise on this very soil, sacrificing themselves so the Emperor’s efforts might succeed, yet they had ultimately failed. Once she received an answer to her question, the girl turned her gaze towards her father. She only looked out the shuttle window when the man began explaining what they were seeing.

As always, Seer’aa listened with bright, fascinated eyes, hanging on every word. She adored her father, and the stories he told always captured her completely. In her mind, he told them far better than her mother ever could; especially since so much of that time was a blur to Spindly, her memory fragmented by the chaos in her mind before the Heathen Priests had shattered and rebuilt it.

Seer’aa had never needed to be broken. She had been raised within the tribe, trained from early on for that life, and prepared for the day she would one day complete her studies and take her place as a Heathen Priestess. Others had been converted into the faith of the Avatars, but she had been born into it. For her, there had never been any other gods but War, Death, and Rebirth.

Her gaze drifted from the landscape back to her father.

"Why did you decide to take command?" she asked him.

She listened on, completely immersed in the story as her father continued. Then she blinked in surprise when he mentioned that this was where he had first met her mother. Seer’aa wasn’t sure why that surprised her so much, perhaps because she had never asked before. Or maybe she had asked once, when she was younger, but it had been so long ago that she no longer remembered.

"I always thought you met on Mar’zambul or on Exegol," she said softly. "But this is where you lost... and not long after that, the Maw fell apart too, didn’t it?"

This little journey was already proving worthwhile, she was learning things she had never even imagined. Still, there was one more question she hadn’t yet dared to ask.

"Why did you choose Mother to be your wife? With your rank, you could have had anyone... even a harem." she asked him.

It was a question that had lingered in her thoughts for a while. And now, finally, she voiced it aloud.

 

[Vireth]

---

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Imperial Centre, Core Worlds;
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE!
Tag: Shannic Wulf | Ellayina L'lerim | Aggadeen Myi | Da'Razel |

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​

Vireth pranced along the outskirts of the bonfire as her golden, artificial eyes admired the sparks and eruptions of kyber caught in the flames as they burned upon the pyre in reverence to the dark-side itself- a consecration of this most holy day that would live long in the memory. It was a cold day on Coruscant and yet Vireth could not feel it. A resplendent warmth radiated from Da'Razel and she was caught in it's embrace as she made her way closer to participate in the ceremony itself while the city below was scorched, and forever transformed by the battle they had just won.

"The power of the dark side is an illness no true believer would wish to be cured of," Vireth said in greeting to the other members of the Church as she stopped near them. "This was a favourite quote of mine growing up. As I stand here I find myself reminiscent of the past and looking forward to the future. At last we are free of the Jedi."

Yellow and orange embers interlaced with colours of blue, green and the other forms of Jedi paraphernalia dispersed in the air behind Vireth as she spoke.

A new age had been ushered in.

---

 

[Cesare Demici]

Nathan Bloodscrawl

Theme

Cesare's blade ignited with a wicked snap-hiss, its crimson sting cutting down several unlucky defenders that had dared to block his path. He wasn't sure who any of the unfortunate souls were, but in the end it mattered little. Cesare felt little other than pure hatred for the Jedi and their ilk, for their blindness and mediocrity. Thus, anyone that tried to step in between him and wiping them out would suffer the same fate.

As he ran his blade through another would-be hero, his attention would shift toward an unfamiliar face. Some fool had decided that they would be the one worthy to challenge him, and just like the others... they would fall...

They would all fall.

His opponent's words were almost as sharp as a blade as the insult to Cesare's family name spilled from their lips. Some sort of attempt at Dun Moch, no doubt. The rage building in Cesare was hard to contain, but contain it he did. If the Dun Moch was working, he wasn't going to let his opponent know. Pulling the crimson plasma from his most recent victim, Cesare took a defensive stance, staring his opponent down.

"My family has more honor and strength than whatever pathetic backwater beginnings you may possess."

Cesare's father may have been a fool, but that fool had still managed to cut a swath through Old Sith Space, driving a dagger into the very heart of the ancient worlds of the Dark Side. That was not a thing one would be wise to discredit... even someone that despised Pietro as much as Cesare did. Family was family, and no one would get away with insulting his own blood.

He began to stalk his opponent, slowly strafing around him in a circle as he waited for the opportune moment to strike.

"If you wish to die today, though... I will happily make it so."

 

[Sarcev Pestage]

Shannic Wulf . Da'Razel , Vireth

Theme

Kyber cracked and burned, its bold light snuffed out, drowned within the glorious flames before them. Sarcev could feel the shift in the very fabric of the Force itself with each crystal's demise, the scales tipping in favor of the true faith. He turned toward the stranger, the flames reflecting in his cold, blue eyes.

"Indeed. One is nothing without faith. It is what brings us ever-closer to our final goal."

What a future that would bring. Today, this planet. Soon, others would join this world in the sacred, unholy fires of purification. Then... eventually... the entire galaxy would know the truth of their blasphemous scriptures.

He took the blade in hand, offering a bow of gratitude.

"Many thanks to you. My name is Sarcev. Sarcev Pestage. And you, brother?"

His hand gripped the hilt of the blade with an almost obsessive intensity. Who was the fool that once held the blade, he wondered. Who's life had to be snuffed out in order to claim it for this dark rite? The possibilities made his mind run wild, though he would keep his composure. Turning toward the flame, his hand released the weapon, sending it to its doom with the others that had already been consumed by fire.

His ears caught another voice, causing his gaze to shift to another stranger. Her words were familiar to him, an old adage that he himself had taken to heart.

"It is the illness of truth. Of freedom."

An illness indeed... one that would soon grow into a contagion that would shatter the very foundation of the galaxy itself.

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

"Not enough to preserve them from the Sith you so happily fight for." Nathan replied in a subtle sneer. Cesare Demici tried to hide it, but his response gave it away...

He had taken the bait.

"And not enough to save your fool of a father from his justified end, as pathetic and hopeless as the rest of your civilization...your blood..." Nathan added, driving the knife as he went into the Shii-Cho ready stance...

Keep in mind--Nathan was from Ession also. And he had not been shy at the fact he had greatly enjoyed hearing of his own people's downfall.

Bro didn't give a feth.

"I have killed your filthy Demici blood before..." Nathan replied in a bored tone deliberately, subtly designed to belittle his opponent's response and get under his skin.

"And I shall again..."

Nathan moved as a blur with Force Speed, his slice the slice of a Master lightsaber fighter, which lent credence to the idea that what he had just said to Cesare was the truth. His slice came down like a meteor close to the upper half of Cesare's blade with high speed and crushing strength, the white blade screaming for his red as it threatened to knock Cesare's weapon from his hand.

"Die."

 

[Thomas Barran]

Seer'aa Barran

2

​

Mt. Strife, Eastern Arros Range,
Northern Temple Valley, Tython (903 ABY)

'At the time, nobody else could. The Trilunars who protected me were already committed. Left flank and vanguard alike.'
​

The Khan trailed off for a moment, but when he realised his recall was kicking in at the time, the one-eyed Woad transmitted that same memory telepathically to his daughter, earnestly catching the recollection before the moment slipped away. Showing a point in time when Barran was bedridden, likely just hours after learning his real name, the vision revealed the faces of the men who would become his Darkhans; changing from despair to amazement when prompted to recount events on the other flank on Tython, the renewed fire in their belief that the Avatar of Rebirth had walked on corporeal ground that day, and the Blood Moon they saw when the opened Rift began to break reality itself.

~=As you can tell, your uncles were quite preoccupied at the time.=~
​

'So I stepped up to fight, but others followed. Others who, somehow, already looked up to me, just as they would when I stepped up to lead the Scar Hounds, jus' weeks later. An' bein' honest, it took quite a fair amount of acclimation jus' to accept this role, an' even more to adjust to the loss of my only friend in this Galaxy at the time.'

After the mention of the Tribal Khatan, the topic of Seer'aa's mother would shift to the defeat that day, and to those that led to the Brotherhood's downfall on Exegol, rightly sceptical of glories and their ilk during re-tellings of historical failure. Yet the true story was always more nuanced than the main Galactic narrative, especially with the wicked Ebruchi considered, but in simplification the Bloodhound kindly drawled,'Fair point, though I think - or perhaps, believe - that not even the war's victors were all the better off for winning. Too much was lost in every faction to name a definitive winner.', in a tone that still enticed an interative, bantering level of interactive punditry.

'After all, we can look to the victors now an' actually see how close we came to toppling the Deep Core back then. As now, we know the Galactic Alliance were wounded in the wake of the war, struggling more desperately to recover than they would ever allow us to believe.'

~=An' the Jedi made another mistake, persisting in the same mistake to this very day - leniency, for a beast that actually BARES it's scars.=~
​

The last of her latest curiosities would be voiced soon after, though the Bloodhound would find himself all the more surprised, but only only on the inward presumption that the young Heathen Priestess likely already knew, so hearing the question outright naturally threw the Khan off his tracked train-of-thought for a second or so. After all, a daughter's curiosity of her mother's life was still one of the most-natural occurrences in Galactic life, forming the Khan's rationale on the grounds of it likely happening much sooner with other daughters of the sort, and most-likely from the matrilineal side of the family structure.

Prompting a clear and present need for tact, and a gifted line of inquiry for Seer'aa when next she would see Ardana.

'Heh! Put simply, it started with one explosive spark between us. Catalysed as suddenly as it did organically. Then it became romance, then it became love, real love.... An attachment between two souls, though these links are often slowly sewn.'

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Empress Teta
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra crossed the room with that quiet, deliberate ease she'd learned from years of watching boardrooms turn on a breath. The city beyond the glass looked gilded in the last streaks of sunset, but she knew better than to mistake beauty for safety. In the Core, everything could shift overnight and lately, it had.

She paused beside Makai's chair, her gaze flicking to the datapad before drifting out over the skyline. It was surreal, seeing the Empire slide in again, not with blaster fire and rubble this time, but with a slow, careful sweep to scrub away what the Alliance had left behind. No less dangerous, only different. She could already feel the weight of it on the companies that tried to stay neutral throughout the chaos, and Mara TibX, Fuels, among others, were all walking a finer line than ever.

Precautions had been taken for her father's resting place. That was one comfort. But comfort didn't mean complacency. Time had taught her that much. There would be contingency plans, there always were.

She bent, brushing a kiss across Makai's temple, the warmth of the gesture tempered by the racing thoughts still ticking away behind her grey eyes. Phoebe's laughter from the corner softened the edge, if only for a heartbeat.

"How is everything going?" she asked, voice low, carrying the quiet weight of someone who already suspected the answer.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

TYTHON | HALL OF THE SUN
LIGHTSWORN OF CLAN ASHINA | LEADER OF THE COMPANIONS | BEARER OF THE RING OF JUDGEMENT

A predictable, even expected, move would have been to keep shaping the Force into a barrier, to weave it into a shimmering wall against the onrush of debris.

Not Ishida.

Halfway through the blink of an eye her sabre bit through the first slab of stone, then the next, then another — each cleave exploding into a spray of dirt and jagged fragments as she surged forward. She cut herself a tunnel through chaos, intent on bursting out the far side.

Mid-stride, she twisted the current of the Force. The forward momentum that had been breaking the rubble ahead of her abruptly reversed, snapping into a tailwind at her back.

Shards and dust rode the reversal, bursting past her in a sudden concussive wave in tandem with her true attack — her sabre sweeping in a rising arc. The reversal's force rode with the strike, twin impacts of steel and unseen pressure, meant to hammer into the Sith's flank and shift his guard toward her blade and unsettle his balance and find him at a loss where to put his feet.

Simultaneously, the building's tremble did not abate. It grew. Roots snapped, and final vestiges that kept it anchored to its resting place wilted away. Slowly, it began to ascend. Inches at a time at first, barely perceivable beyond the ground quake, and then quicker — turned into meters at a time to become truly airborne.

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ALLIES: Castian Vero | Inosuke Ashina | GONNA MAKE IT TO Corazona von Ascania + Alexandra Feanor
ENEMIES: DARK SIDE EMPIRE | Damien Zannen