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]

---

---

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

---

​

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.

---

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

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Empress Teta

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

The quick kiss on his temple brought him out of a transfixed stare at the datapad. The half-Galan looked up and offered a small smile in spite if the situation. Hands came up to scrub his face, as if trying to sort out the situation. Makai didn't appreciate the unknowns. War and strife was one thing but having to deal with a government that was tight lipped was another.

"I don't know." He said after a very long moment, now adjusting his glasses back on their proper spot. Much like the Arceneau's, he and his father always prided themselves on neutrality. His obligation after his family was to business, not to government. Yet it was extremely difficult to convince elected officials this was the case.

"Remember last time your Ma couldn't even get through to them? Froze her ass off on Carlac only for the Dark Empire to block all business. I don't even know who is in charge...Thirty-Seven does this group even have an economic council?"

[ HoloNet sources state Darth Solipsis is now reigning Emperor. Alars Keto is now Senator of Empress Teta. Economic Council status unknown at this time. ]

"Never heard of him....The Solipsis guy yes.... Senator Keto, no." Iced blue eyes looked towards Ellie. "You know them? Or Danger?"

A small pause.

"Perhaps we should meet with this Senator. Not with Phoebe on planet though."

 

[Da'Razel]

IMPERIAL PALACE - CORUSCANT
Indirect: Shannic Wulf | Ellayina L'lerim
Direct: Vireth | Sarcev Pestage​

Da'Razel's golden helm inclined toward the hooded appearance as the man took the blade.

"Sarcev Pestage," he let the name roll over his tongue as if to know how it would taste. When he spoke again, he seemed pleased. "I am Da'Razel. They call me Saint Peterious."

The Devaronians obsidian claws loosened their grip only when Sarcev's own fingers clutched fully around the hilt, grasping it with an intensity he did not fail to notice.

The two stood in silent witness as the weapon of his vanquished foe was carried into the blaze.
Kyber shrieked as it fractured, the molten glow slowly drowning the hilt and remembrance of its past master in it depths. Both ceased to exist.

His golden visage turned to that of the equally masked figure before him. "You have fed the pyre, and in return, it will remember you when the time comes."

He watched the last fragments of the saber collapse inward, the furnace roaring as if the fire itself approved of the offering.

It was then that another presence stepped forward. The girl, those resplendent, golden orbs in her sockets reflecting the firelight like captured suns, synthetic yet raw. The heat seemed to draw her forward, step by step, into its embrace.

Her words drew the faintest incline of his head, a gesture almost reverent.
The Saint than turned fully toward her as she spoke, an old creed rolling off her tongue.

"Ahh yes, the prophet Plagueis," he answered, his vox-voice like a hymn, "From the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair." He recited the age-old quote, almost singing it, wielding it like poetry.

He let his gaze shift between the two, flames dancing across his mask's molten sheen. Around them, the faithful gathered, drawn close by the shared heat, the shared purpose.

"Today, Coruscant. Tomorrow, another. And another still, until the galaxy itself is this altar, a spectacle of our faith, a testament to our Lord."

Da'Razel stepped closer to the pyre, its light haloing the three of them in gold and crimson.

"Stand close, brothers and sisters. The fire remembers all who tend it."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

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

Myra's fingers slid slowly through the unruly strands of his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp in that gentle cafuné she knew always coaxed the tension from him. She felt the faint give in his posture, the way his eyes threatened to close despite the weight of the moment.

"Well, mama always said that unless someone came blazing to hurt those she protected unprovoked, the door is always open," she murmured, letting the words be more than just an answer but also a reminder.

"She left on neutral terms last time with the Dark Empire. Chose to hand over locations, train them to keep production going, and they let her relocate the workers who wanted to go. Safeguarded the ones who stayed."

She took a slow breath, holding his gaze so it would linger.

"It's always better to seek conversation than block any motion. Odds are that's exactly what mama will do again. But with the Convergence shaking the Core the way it has, the ripples are going to hit every subsidy we hold."

Her hand stilled in his hair, but she didn't move away. "But I agree, if meeting with the Senator is beneficial, we plan ahead and do it when Phoebe can be with mama or your pa."

It was best to have some contingencies in place just in case.

 

[Khronas]

THE IMPERIAL PALACE, CORUSCANT IMPERIAL CENTER

Inside the super-heated furnace, the synthetic crystal began to grow.

Deep in meditation, Khronas studied the threads of time as he shaped and moulded what would become the core of his new lightsaber. He studied the branching futures of the crystal as he manipulated its molecular structure, studying how each minor variance would shape the future of the precious gemstone. More than once he stopped himself at the last moment from making a decision that would reverberate through the precious stone’s history and doom it to failure.

Sweat ran down his enlarged, ridged canium as the intense heat from the furnace warmed the room. Time had lost all meaning in his deep meditation; that minutes, hours or days had passed was irrelevant. He would remain here as long as he needed to complete his task, sustaining himself through the Force and the dark currents of the corrupted Nexus nearby.

His Sith sword lay on the ground beside him. The ancient weapon, engraved with Sith runes, had been presented to him during his tenure at the New Sith Order academy. While his peers had hurried to craft their own lightsabers, his own studies of the future had shown that the time was not sure. The sword had served him well at the first and second invasions of Coruscant. Only recently had the portents shifted, telling the Dark Side Elite warrior that the time to craft a new weapon had finally arrived.

If he were to achieve the perfect timeline, he would need the perfect weapon, forged at the perfect moment.

In his mind’s eye, he could see the crystal beginning to take shape, a deep blood-red jewel with smooth symmetrical lines. The threads of time began to wrap themselves around the object, imbuing it with their divine knowledge. In his hands, the lightsaber this crystal powered would enhance his skills of precognition, unlocking glimpses into the future.

A rare hint of a smile appeared on Khronas’ face. Soon, very soon, the age of the Jedi would come to an end.

 

[Meliant]

Jedi Temple - Tython
Service Tunnels​

Objective: Steal

​

Meliant waited in the darkness. They were fighting for their lives up there, Empire and Jedi. Waves of Imperial forces were smashing into the temple defenses, determined to kill everyone they could, defile everything they could. It was all very impressive. So impressive that Meliant elected to find a quieter route inside. No reason to hog all the glory.​

​

The tunnel walls occasionally reverberated with the sound of distant explosions. More than that, Meliant the emotional vortex of fear, misery, and rage that always came with these battles. Not as potent as Coruscant. Nothing was. Meliant had glutted himself on the rise of the Imperial Center and now even pivotal massacres like this barely registered.​

​

Footsteps rang out from down the corridors and eventually the people he was waiting to see came scurrying into view. Three miserable padawans, drenched in sweat, scorched and bleeding, enwreathed in fear, panting like animals being hunted. Probably because they were. One of them shone a flashlight on the Dark Side Elite.​

​

"Welcome back. Where is it?"​

​

They instinctively arranged themselves, two behind one with the nominal ringleader in front: a sad-looking young lady. Couldn't have been much older than Meliant had been when he'd been inducted into his first order, about a galaxy away. Oh. Such fond memories.​

​

"Just give it to him, Mavis," one of them whispered to her.​

​

Meliant held out a hand. The lead padawan came forward slowly and presented, very delicately, a beautiful blue box, etched with brass, and radiant with the power of the Force. A very special Jedi Holocron. It was special to Meliant, anyway. Not so much to these panicked teens. Meliant's grip tightened around it and he held it up to examine.​

​

To her credit, she didn't back away. She rather folded her hands in front of her, if only to keep them from shaking. "Can we... Go now?"​

​

"A deal's a deal," Meliant said without looking at any of them. "Run along."​

​

Mavis beckoned to her friends and they took off at a brisk pace through the tunnels. Meliant remained, fiddling with his new Holocron.​

​

Perhaps they were going to Ilum. Or, more likely, they were looking to desert the Order. So much fear and desperation in those little hearts. Sometimes, letting people make the wrong choice was more satisfying than hacking them to death. Having a little Jedi treasure to call his own was nice, too.​

​

Meliant would spend a little more time ambling lazily through the service corridors, pretending to do his job, before proceeding up to the Temple. But by then, the worst of the fighting had concluded.​

​

CLOSED​

 

[Makai Dashiell]

EMPRESS TETA

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"I think you're trying to put me to sleep."

The half-Galan gave a wry smile as she spoke of meeting the challenges ahead. Neither would shirk from their duties to their respective companies and subsidiaries. However, Makai predicted long days ahead trying to negotiate with a new government. Or at least find their demands and wants. The Galactic Alliance had all but ignored business so long as they paid taxes and pulled the proper permits. He felt the Empire might be a little hands on, given their re-education efforts on Teta alone.

He reached out a took her free hand, drawing her closer. Just past Ellie, he could see Phoebe on the ground making a ruckus with her toys, oblivious to them for the moment.

"I agree. We just don't know - which makes everything difficult." A small pause. "No sudden movements though. No pulling out of industry, no mass exodus of workers. Perhaps we slowly increase our private security to protect employees and our assets.... try to arrange a meeting with Senator Alars Keto and go from there. Meanwhile, we ramp up our production in known friendly sectors just in case."

Makai inclined his head towards their young daughter.

"Same on the personal front. We move as normal...I had half a mind to send her back home with Lia and Thirty-Seven but I don't want to give the impression we're running scared. This was a family trip, we operate as such, all of us leave together and then return for business alone."

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique smiled as Aurelian commented on those she might favor least. Well, he wasn't wrong. Extremists were useful tools, but not lasting business partners. Her efforts to keep Darkwire from being trampled under foot hadn't been because she agreed with them, but to maintain a certain, workable status quo. They had some interests in common, but that hardly made them allies. They would have agreed if they'd known of Dominique's interest in their activities. Might have even thought to kill her along with the Director they had and their attempt on Valery's life.

Then matters were brought around to the very moment they now shared. Enough with the lofty ideals and grand visions, what about them? Hardly a novel turn. Not that she thought less of him, as a matter of fact, for making it, but it wasn't the first time someone started suggesting a private meeting be... more.

A smile spread across her lips as she peered at the man from behind her glareshades. Her shoulders were relaxed and her back straight as he thought to step closer. Slightly. Her chin turned away from him slightly, out toward the city, as if unaware of his personal interest in her; of course, with how her gaze remain with him it was obviously the city failed to captivate.

They watched one another as Aurelian passed along side her to slip just out of view for a moment. Dominique didn't try to pivot to deny him the opportunity to whisper intimately from behind, however. Sometimes you had to let the playful ones indulge themselves. It kept things interesting.

As interesting as Aurelian asking what it was that Dominique desired most. The undertones were palpable, but she'd been observing the man for a while now. How could she not? He made it his life's purpose to be front-and-center. Declaring himself Naboo's first Future King had done nothing to diminish that attention either. And it was when someone was so bombastic you had to pay extra attention to the things all the pomp and circumstances were designed to distract you from.

"Aurelian, you're a handsome and intelligent man that any woman would love," Dominique replied softly without straining her neck to look back at him, but she could spy him out of the corner of her eye. "But we're far more similar than the ruling bodies of our worlds realize."

"There was a time," she turned to look out at the skyline that had caught his eye briefly once more, "I was like them. Content to take things as they were. Work within the boundaries of the system. But there's nothing worse you can do to a person than to take everything from them once they're comfortable. Suddenly, the possibilities reveal themselves to such a person; and if they're going to be forced to toil anyway, why stop at just regaining what you'd lost?"

"As Senator, all I want is for Denon to be given everything it needs to thrive." Dominique paused for a moment. The corner of her lips lifted as her gaze turned back toward Aurelian. "As an Executive Director I want that and everything necessary for it to flourish, and I'll take every necessary step to ensure that happens. Wouldn't you agree? Honeyed words. Transactions. And if necessary... housecleaning."

She turned slightly in order for her hand to lift and place her palm against Aurelian's chest. "And you know, I'm always available for negotiations."

Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

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


Myra's lips curved, a hint of mischief cutting through the tension as her fingers lingered in his hair.

"If I wanted to put you to sleep," she murmured, leaning just close enough for her voice to stay between them, "I've got far better, and far more entertaining, ways to wear you out than this."

Her grin softened into something more thoughtful as she straightened, letting the quip fade so they could return to the matter at hand. She gave a slow nod, weighing his words. What he said regarding the plan with their business as much as their family trip made perfect sense.

"What do we know about the Senator so far?" she asked, tone turning practical. Mama's advice echoed in her mind -- always best to know exactly who you were dealing with before you sat across the table from them.

 

[Redak Boyd]

He had never much believed in destiny, at least not until the day he entered the Grand Vizier’s service. From that moment, the ordinary weight of his duties seemed to carry a new gravity, as if every piece of paper he signed and every report he compiled formed part of something far greater.

Coruscant breathed differently, its capture the culmination of years of strategy. The Core’s subsequent submission had been inevitable, once Imperial Center was claimed, and with it came the resources to build a government capable of commanding the entire galaxy. To the Redak, it felt as if the heart of civilization itself had been lifted from decay and set beating once more.

This part of the planet was transformed beyond recognition. No longer a sanctuary for Jedi philosophies, it had been reworked from its foundations to serve as the hub of Imperial governance. He watched from the side of the dais as the Vizier sat, ranks of officers and clerks arrayed in symmetry around her. Soon, the formalities would give way to the day’s defining act: the execution of captured Jedi loyalists. To him, their end was not a cruelty, but a correction; a severing of the last threads of a creed that had preached restraint while the galaxy rotted.

In his eyes, the Vizier’s purpose was a clarity of the purest form. She had shown him that peace without discipline was weakness, and mercy without structure was chaos. The Alliance had been blind to this truth, disguising corruption as democracy while the Jedi stood as its willing protectors. That time had passed.

His first sight of Coruscant from orbit still lingered in his memory: towers darkened by battle, whole districts reduced to rubble. The damage was not ruin but proof; the necessary price of renewal. The old order would be buried, and in its place a disciplined, unified Empire would rise.

By evening, the Emperor’s words would carry across the capital and into the farthest reaches of the holonet. It would not be a speech of reconciliation or compromise, but the proclamation of a new era. Solipsis had not taken the throne to repair a failing galaxy, but to reforge it entirely, and his administration would ensure that work was done.