Faction High Patriotic Standards | NIO

[IMPCOM]

​

HIGH PATRIOTIC STANDARDS
RAVELIN '65
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THE WAR AT HOME

The Galaxy is on fire. Since its onset as a political player on the Braxant, the New Imperial Order has been a nation at war. Existential war. The bloodied path had been carved through the decisively successful drive through the Braxant Run, resulting in the siege and capture of Bastion, the most fortified world in the Galaxy. Since, the fires hadn't dimmed in the slightest. New Imperial offensives with the sludging Pentastar Operation and the defense of Bastion had seen their hands bloodied once more. The first round of radicals and veterans who led the charge and hoisted the banner over Ravelin were fading in numbers with numbers drawn from New Imperial worlds removed from the oppression of the Sith were less instilled to continue the fight. While the New Imperial Order's military found sustained success in the war, it came at a cost.

While within the ranks of the military, the rule of Sovereign Imperator Irveric Tavlar was viewed favorably. Being that he was the Supreme Commander of the New Imperial armed forces, he did not take the title lightly, organizing the mass offensives of the New Imperial armed forces into Sith territory while leading his own 501st Legion from the front.

Domestically, a different story was drawn. While COMPNOR's propaganda efforts did well in keeping enthusiasm for the war high through its first four years of conflict, the increasing toll of the military soon cut corners and drew away from the quality of life and infrastructure of the citizenry living within New Imperial space. As a result, what began as anti-war protests of a loud minority falling on deaf ears and blunt batons soon turned into outright riots as important resources were drawn to the front from budding worlds in need or well within internal strife. Insurgents still riled within the outland provinces of the New Imperial Order as increasing numbers of refugees from the Third Imperial Civil War, Sith Schism and Galactic War Against The Bryn'adul continued to choke the New Imperial Order's ability to lawfully maintain its overextended borders.

Returning from the recent offensive on the Sith held world on Ziost, Irveric called the Imperial Assembly to Ravelin. With his return to the New Imperial capital being marred with disfigured images of his likeness captioned with abrasive statements. The most horrific and widespread image being a sign depicting Irveric Tavlar pointing a blaster to his head with his brains spewing from the other end featuring a caption stating 'Kill yourself alone, don't take us all with you.' , of which any use of it often led to a far more brutal treatment from patrol troopers and riot control personnel.

He stood before the rulers of the New Imperial realm, and opened the floor for immediate statements regarding healing over the deep, infected and congealed wounds of the homefront.

OBJECTIVE I
THE COURSE OF EMPIRE​

The prominent leadership figures of the New Imperial Order assemble in the Hall of Defiance to discuss steps that should be taken to put down the growing internal unrest as a result of anti-war protests and riots. Irveric Tavlar is displeased with the internal state of affairs and has now placed them at the forefront of New Imperial agenda and policy. Determine the best path forward.

OBJECTIVE II
KNOW YOUR ENEMY​

After the Imperator has returned to Bastion, he has been met with a fanfare of vitriol and fire. Riots shake the streets of Ravelin. These are all unlawful assemblies. Martial law and an active curfew has been established. Be sure to differentiate the treatment of New Imperial citizens and active disruptors and agitators in service of terror groups who wish to rile up the New Imperial people to escalate these growing demonstrations.

>SET PIECES:
>Ravelin, Heart of The Empire

 

[Enlil]

A Title heavier than King had fallen on his shoulders.

In the wake of the war for freedom and order, the people of the Imperium shuddered. Worlds bled for the New Imperial Order, both coin and kin, and wearily Enlil reviewed the images smeared across the capital. For all the work they had done across Sith space to finalize their separation, they earned the enmity of their own people. The Galaxy had grown emboldened in some fifty thousand years. Where a single world once found their absolute truth in the words of their King, now a thousand worlds could not find it in ten different superpowers.

They brought an end to the contemptible Zambrano hold on their worlds only to see the face of their Imperator, the man who started that very crusade to assume the position. Irveric Tavlar was a strong man, but even the strongest of men had their limits. "Shall we put a price on the heads of those who conjured this atrocity?" an advisor asked. "We could have the culprits in chains within a day-"

"We will not rob them of their voices," the Grand Vizier decreed. "We are not the Sith. They did not trade one master for another. We will give them no further cause to feel that way."

With a nervous bow, the advisor fell back into step with the cadre of aides positioned along the wall. Enlil crossed one leg over the other and tapped a finger to his chin. "Already they flood the streets of Ravellin with violence," he stated for those already gathered. "The people have spoken, and the tide has changed. Where once they fully supported our war effort, it has grown foul to their tongues. Such is the toll exacted by chaos. Men do not long favor it. Those who do are not men, but beasts."

In truth, he knew the time would come when equillibrium would afflict itself on them. No society existed that only thrived in time of conflict. Such a world was dystopic and harsh. It bred strong creatures, but never civility. Enlil closed his eyes. The sight of Tavlar's name slandered and dehumanized by the masses was sobering, even disheartening. It was their duty to move past such things. It was his duty to guide them through this.

Irveric Tavlar had made Enlil the shepherd of a great flock.

The harsh reality was that there were wolves. Like on Ketaris, those who held differential ideologies rooted deep within the Imperium. At times, they would infect others and sow dissent, and at times they would be conveniently silent. Direct action only inflamed their cause. To make a show of them worked when the chaos demonized their intent; but when the state itself became the enemy, lines began to blur. Grand displays of force were no longer the ideal. The pen was now mightier than the sword.

"Those who are openly causing discontent should be silenced as necessary," he spoke without a glance to the Civil Officer to his left. "But for those who's crimes are menial and no more than propaganda or slanderous words, they should be left to their devices. Maiming those who are nonviolent only incites those who are."

"Of course, Grand Vizier," the woman bowed her head. "I will issue the decree at once."

He stroked his chin now as he reopened his eyes and glanced around the room. "We have entered a new era in this Imperium," he announced. "The war we fight can no longer be won with superior firepower. We established a place where these men, women, and children can live in peace. Now they demand to see what we fought for." Enlil placed his hands on the massive table in front of him. "There is a time for harshness and a time for gentility. We have moved beyond the former and now, we will be tested as leaders of men."

The King drew a deep breath and let out a ragged sigh. They were all tired. No longer did he walk the weary path alone.

"It is with anguish in my heart that I see our people reduced to this," he told the Assembly. Not "my" people. Ours. "But, they must be allowed to live. To think. To imagine, and to create. We have known only destruction since the inception of the New Imperial Order. It is my belief that the time has come for this Galaxy to truly understand the scope of what we have wrought from Iron."

His ruby gaze found Irveric, a somber smile across his lips. "Whether glorious or tragic. This Empire began with us, but now, it belongs to the people. So, even as we watch with tears as our children rebuke us and regard us with anger and hate, we must choose to lead by example. These heinous images, these hateful messages, these outbursts- all of these things are a recalibration period. Growing pains. We must tolerate the adolescence of our people if they are to become proper Imperials. They must know grace in equal measure to fury. And we have shown them no end of fury."

Another aide stepped forward to whisper in his ear, and the King slowly closed his eyes. With his head bowed, he bid the aid lean closer, and whispered another message. His gaze flicked to Tavlar once more as a message appeared on the Imperator's datapad.

I advise that we cede control of the civil unrest to COMPNOR. Withdraw the Stormtrooper Corps and give the people understanding that they will not be outright punished for protest. Give Bline authorization to deputize personnel to act judiciously to rout the dissidents causing violent insurgency.

He took a moment to compose himself before regarding them once more. This time, his face was stone. "I open the floor now to the Imperial Assembly, to discuss internal matters. These events are further reaching than just the heart of the Imperium, and we need to assess the damages and calculate a measured response. We have spent enough time on the War to the East. If we want to have a home to return to, then we must needs show the same devotion and commitment we have on foreign soil. I will make myself available personally to anyone who takes issue with this after the meeting adjourns."

 

[Rohak Vizsla]

you're angered, so am i
​

Black smoke billowed upwards darkening the sky, the reek of soot and tire flaring the nostrils. Rage seeped into the streets.

And the gutters would bleed.

In the miasma of obsidian fumes, a specter loomed atop one of the higher flats. One eye gleamed overlooking the streets that weaved and turned under the strain of a rising revolt.

Faces, both young and old, hidden behind bandannas and scarfs tearing their throats in defiance against those who were bid farewell as heroes only to return as villains.

Among these noisemakers lied those who truly held the sway, those who bent the current of people to their own will, those who were the heart of the fury. Today, he was here for them.

Today, Abaddon would rip that heart and leave the carcass bleeding.​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

「PAINT IT, BLACK」
KNOW YOUR ENEMY
BASTION / RAVELIN
INCOGNITO
Rohak Vizsla | Darth Daiara
CLOSED

---

---

​

There were very few things stopping him from taking to the streets himself. Self-preservation, for what little it was worth, was one of them. Subtlety was perhaps another. The rest of them, all had a pretense of being less important and he possessed no desire to dwell on them. Easier to stay in denial that way; easier to stay out of one's own way.

Chaos canters through the streets, leaving fires, broken glass, and festering unrest. Within a furtive dive on the lowest level of a Ravelin high-rise, a different kind of defiance lingered. Masked figures facilitated retaliation, incited uprising, and provided the means for both. A small, hidden engine for the fires of disorder that ignite across Ravelin with every passing hour.

Zaavik held a standard New Imperial grenade launcher in his hands, demonstrating the loading mechanisms in front of a handful of treacherous citizens. Metal rang out a crack as the mechanism popped into place as he pushed the barrel to the ready position. "These canisters-" he continued his explaination by holding up one of the grenades in a free hand. "Contain a subdual agent that can trick New-Imperial atmo-filters. It'll turn their buckets into head-sized gas chambers."

He swung the weapon up, pointing it toward them with no regard for safety. "All you gotta do is what I showed you, and pull the trigger," he added before letting it drop to a vertical position.

"Where do you get all this stuff?" one of them asked as they approached to take the launcher.

"You're not supposed to ask questions," he reminded.

"Right, sorry-"

"What if they fire on us!?"

Zaavik raised the suitcase full of launchers and allowed them to clunk loudly onto the table. "They were going to regardless. Inevitable. No more questions."

 

[Darth Daiara]

BASTION / RAVELIN
INCOGNITO
Rohak Vizsla | Zaavik Perl | CLOSED​

Aradia stepped forward, out of the corner and into the dim light of the ill-lit room. She said nothing, unmoving as bodies shoved and pressed forward for a chance at a weapon. It could be the difference between life and death out there on the streets. These were once her people. Their unbreakable resolve in light of the imperial's suppression left her feeling a pinch of ...something. Pride? Comradery.

It was so easy to feel alone when you lived your life in the shadows. She ran her fingers over the launcher, giving it a curious glance over.

"These would have been handy to have." She shot him a quick, dry glance. "Before they had the damn place." Her lips twitched into the faint tease, the tension dispersing. She cocked the loading mechanism and pulled it to her eye, giving a testing aim herself. "Huh." She wasn't usually one for guns, but she had to admit she liked the weight.

She bounced it once in her hands, then handed it off. Her eyes caught the young gaze of a woman... barely older than her. She froze. All at once it became hard to breathe, the girl's head sprouting a sudden bullet wound to the temple.

It was nothing but her mind's cruel tricks. The woman's back had already slid out of the room. Aradia willed herself to breathe again. If she did this right, that girl's sacrifice might be the last needed.

Freedom was worth one measly girl.

"We should get out there," Aradia croaked, the room quickly emptying to just them.

 

[Willan Tal]

LORD PROTECTOR
GALIDRAAN FREE STATE
Tags: Zaavik Perl Enlil Rohak Vizsla Darth Daiara

Politics is war without bloodshed, while war is politics with bloodshed as a famous Galidraani literate put so eloquently many a century ago, Wherever he was on the campaign directing the nascent Galidraani forces in war or in the gilded halls of Ravelin and Coruscant. There was no real difference as the two arts of politics and war was entwined, something the Galidraani general and leader had become so intimately familiar with these past few years. Many a sly politician treated the matters of intrigue with all the sharpness and delicate touch of a scalpel; Tal on the other hand, who was a general first most and foremost, fixed his problems with a hammer. Violence was, after all, the only language from wild space to the outer rim that every being, species and reactionary understood very well. He was no Fortan, and he sure wasn't one to get his way with passive-aggressive talk over a cup of tea, he preferred threats and his ever increasingly brutal armed wing of death squads to attain his goals.


Lord Barrabas of the Galidraani parliament had been among the many to denounce Tal's faction of Galidraani's as being nothing more than vicious revolutionary thugs hell-bent on destroying Galidraani culture. And for Barrabas own troubles and words of scorn, he earnt a visit from Tal's boys in black and was found dead in a gutter beaten to an unrecognisable pulp and a blaster burn hole to the back of the head. He had been, but the first of many Galidraani politicians deemed a target and threat to Willan Tal's political party, of which masked shooters and carefully placed bombs killed many. Others simply disappeared from the face of this existence, only to be found dead in a ditch or strung up with warnings of what would happen to Sith collaborators. Not even those living off-planet from Galidraan were safe to critique or speak out against the Tal family and their party. As many as forty-seven Galidraani's of various positions within parliament, the media sector and influence in society had been killed in the past few months, with at least a dozen more missing and presumed kidnapped.


Flanked by several of his bodyguards and with his ceremonial lord cape draped over his shoulders, he made his entrance at the assembly with little fuss and signalled with a gesture for his men to leave the hall as he moved to get seated. The Lord Protector gave each man and woman his due as each warlord and Moff had their say on the matter at hand, some he could sympathise with others he merely rolled his eyes at with all the regard for a fleck of dirt on his boot.

​

​

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
VANDAL SQUAD 4/4
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
RAVELIN | HEART OF THE EMPIRE
Armor | Baton | Sniper | Pistol | Stun / CS Gas / Flash Grenades
Rohak Vizsla | Zaavik Perl | Darth Daiara

LAW AND ORDER
​

A warm welcome. Grunge had been detached from the proper citizenry of the New Imperial Order since his point of enlistment. He was probably the second wave of soldiers brought into the fold. While he was born in Sith space, Lothal, he was not a Sith Legionnaire who defected into the 501st, the 7th, any of these progenitor units. He joined up following the Braxant campaign while the enthusiasm for war was still great. The horrors the Sith inflicted on the now New Imperials were fresh in the minds of the populace. The people wanted revenge, they still hungered for blood.

Since that last impression, he'd been from one operation, one mission to the next. It was his first trip 'home' in at least over a year. The defense of Bastion didn't quite count, a brief return but...a work trip, to say the least. This trip on Ravelin wouldn't be any different it seemed. Vandal Squad along with several other units were delegate to re-establish law and order on Ravelin. Following the Imperator's return, Ravelin was on fire.

The Imperator marched to war with them, led the charge into the fray. The people...they didn't know what they were fighting anymore, they didn't see the fields of glass at Ziost, the saturation bombing of Serenno. Only the numbers of cut clips on holofeeds. And they had the audacity to say this war wasn't just and that their Imperator wasn't doing his job.

He didn't wanna fire on any of his countrymen...but those who chose to take up arms against those who fought to make sure they could breath easy at night. He had little sympathy.

Laid down in the prone position on the low roof top of the building flanking one of the many barricades cordoning off parts of Ravelin, he peered down the sights of his rifle. Lying in wait for any provacateur to brandish a proper armament. For now, the orders were to let the riot line do its job against the unarmed civilians, funnel people and disperse them out, crack skulls as needed...as soon as any of them brandished a legitimate weapon, it'd be over for them. He peered down the scope of his rifle, Trade Federation make, a fine, accurate slugthrower.

He patched through to unit wide comms, both the Storm Commandos and COMPNOR attaches.

<"Got my eyes on nothing positive yet...but something tells me they didn't rile themselves up to this extent."> Grunge pontificated.

​

 

[Rohak Vizsla]

​

you're angered, so am i
the angry Zaavik Perl and Darth Daiara
​

The single pupil altered its nature, from frigid blue to artificial red, its wicked laser pierced through the smoke scanning, seeking. It melted into the crowd shuffling from streets, to alleys, to boulevards. Nothing remained hidden from its scrutinizing gaze. Lines were drawn, turned to directions, directions turned to paths, paths turned to patterns. A topology of human behavior.

Through the chaos and disarray, Abaddon found order. Parallel lines converging at a single point - stairs leading to an outdoor basement of one of the highest flats in the area.

He reverted the eye back to its organic mold, his mind already mapping the routes to his destination, to his prey. The assassin lunged from his vantage position unto another rooftop, then descended unto another and another, each one bringing him closer to his target.

The hunt began.

 

[Halketh]

P O N D E R A N C E
H A L K E T H
The Seat of Defiance
_

​

The toll of the dead had rung high and loud for any who were keen to it, no longer was it restricted to those few who felt it all as it occurred. Families wanted answers. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, wives, husbands; all tired of the mountainous rise of death. There was naught the Imperial Assembly could do but watch and listen from their nest above the turmoil as the information and images flooded their feeds. It was surreal for the empath- that exposure to such high emotion swelled against him. Them. A sea of angry faces demanding the final note of this calamitous chorus when it felt as though only the interlude had crossed them in the night when they had predominantly been too blind to see it.

This was the eye in the storm.

Nothing more.

Barely stable enough to stand on his own after the sky crashed down over Serenno, he had been advised to take this meeting from his office on his world, where he could continue his recovery otherwise undisturbed. But there was a desire to be present, to feel what it was their citizens felt as they stormed the streets to protest. The Vulture sat in his chair, bare-faced for a change, with something of a perturbed expression painted across his bruised, naked features. Between empty sockets bound in crimson, a crease formed with the alignment of his thoughts. There was no enemy here, merely a sea of terrified people in need of answers.

This was not something for an iron fist to squash.

This was something for a bleeding heart to tend to.

"They're frightened..." The miraluka whispered, deepening the crease in his blindfold with consideration, "this rage is born from fear and exhaustion." Quivering, damaged hands rose from his sleeves to rest flat against the table, tremoring only more as fingers were rolled into palms to cease the shake. "Their homes have been razed. Their families splintered. I... agree." He struggled to speak for lengthy durations as his internal wounds continued their boil beyond his skin, "Now is not the time to dispatch clandestine teams and methodology. These are not our enemies. These are our people- the very same who trusted us to protect them. To fight for them."

His head slowly turned to the empty chair by his left side with his pause. The absence of her Force Presence made his heart stutter a choked cry, one which became apparent as he clenched his jaw in the face of the loss. He had been retrieved from the wreckage of Carannia alive- his apprentice had not been so fortunate. Halketh wet his lips, expelling a deep breath through his nose as the grief tore the wound in his chest open anew. It forced his voice to tremble slightly as he continued his impassioned words: "We should trust them, as they have trusted us. If we sit up here, away from them, we are no better than the faceless masters they grew accustomed to. What will speak now, more than ever, is action."

It was only his preemptive efforts to memorialize those fallen at Ziost and enact policy to aid the families left behind that had kept Carlac from falling into the very same disorder reported all across their territory. Ever, the action.

"They bear the burden just as we have, some more so. We should speak to them, properly. Allow them to voice their frustrations directly so they needn't cast stones from where they are. This... is where I believe we should start." A hand rose to gesture to the screens he could not see, "We forsook our duty to them when we failed to do so from the start, defend it how you wish, I speak what I have witnessed every time I have been called to a table filled with my equals. We've poured over bellicostic strategies and debated for the fate of new worlds and utterly neglected to nurture those taken into our fold. I am ashamed of the hand I had in it when I refrained from speaking up sooner." His scarred lips twitched vaguely and at last, his head turned back towards Tavlar and Enlil both, centering his pained expression between them. "We are not The Sith Empire. They know we have said it, but what good are our words if their world is ripped apart? What comfort can be found in the hollow utterances of men who cower behind walls when faced with consequence? I know you both for men of courage and strength, the foundation of which is built upon whatever you choose it to be."

His hand flexed towards the window, extending a digit towards the reinforced glass.
​

"Show them you've chosen compassion."​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

「PAINT IT, BLACK」
KNOW YOUR ENEMY
BASTION / RAVELIN
INCOGNITO
Rohak Vizsla | Darth Daiara
CLOSED

---

---

​

"We should get out there."​

"Yeah, we should," he replied tentatively, watching the backs of disgruntled soon-to-be rioters disappear from the hideout. Zaavik felt that itch as well, the urge to get out there and do something. As was his wont, if his past actions were any measure "But-" There was always a but. Even the reckless had to know when to find restraint. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

A hand came up to adjust the mask over his face. "I get that Bastion is your home and all, but this will have all been for nothing if we get caught up." Zaavik was in the New-Imperial system, processed as a prisoner of war during the Yinchorr conflicts, they knew who he was. Normally he'd find his way back to the Alliance somehow, but with the state of the Imperial homefront, there was no telling what they'd do. Aradia's fate in such a situation went without saying. This was already enough of a risk.

"Let's just stick to the plan, and wait for an opportunity. If we do something stupid or too quickly, we're done for." It was worth a try, even though his track record of convincing her of anything was far less than stellar. He turned to look at the holoscreen projecting a live news feed of a riot in a deeper sector of the city. It looked as bad as he'd expected, possibly worse.

"We should probably move," he suggested. Datapad came alive with a map of Ravelin as he raised it from his belt receptacle. "Staying here too long will get us caught. There's a contraband cache just outside the administrative district." He stabbed a finger to indicate a clandestine marker on the projection. "We'll look for some kind of in on the way there. The distributors will find us eventually."

He spoke with an unfettered certainty that bordered on professionalism. Almost as if he'd done this before.

 

[FN-999]

N I N E S

OBJ II
RIFLE - PISTOL
TAGS: Kolson Vrask
GARRISON: 1000/1000

For the first time in nearly half a decade, FN-999 stared down a riotous mob.
​

About an hour earlier, FN-999 had been ordered from the citadel of a barracks near the Imperial Headquarters to lead a large detachment of the finest troops from his regiment to quell unrest within Ravelin's Free District. Already aware of growing anti-war riots over the radio in the barracks in the hours past, the lieutenant legion commander collected troops with haste and equipped them with a variety of non-lethal weaponry.

For the task of riot control, FN-999 had first selected the assault companies of his regiment. Spearheaded by FN-999's own native 19th, the troopers of the assault companies were a strong-willed group who were used to keeping calm even when faced with numerical inferiority and unafraid to push a crowd aside to ensure their safety. Two repulsorlift companies were assigned to provide quick transport to the site and then depart to a secure area, returning either when the Free District was calmed or when FN-999's detachment was in danger and needed immediate withdrawal.

After being dropped off by the repulsorlift companies, FN-999 planned to have his detachment march into the city square in a single rectangular column twenty troops thick before splitting into ten groups of one hundred, five assigned to secure safe passage through the Free District's gates for reinforcements and civilians who had been calmed. The other five would roam the square, breaking up violent behavior through non-lethal means and responding to cries of help from landowners who were being threatened by unruly vandalism.

The first phase of the plan had worked relatively well, with all 1000 troopers being dropped off on schedule into streets crowded with almost ten times as many civilians. However, only four exits had been secured. The lieutenant of the fifth hundred trooper units, citing a risk of violent confrontation and uncertainty about the presence of insurgents in the protests occurring in their area, was inclined to take a longer route to the gate, which he would reach in about twenty minutes.

FN-999 presently stood in the center of one of the hundred trooper units near the center of the Free District, wrapped around a block of mixed businesses and apartments. They had set up plastic and concrete barricades, struggling against them for nearly half an hour at this point against a crowd that greatly outnumbered them. However, they held firm, prioritizing the block behind them just as they would a choke point in a battlefield.

[ATTENTION, CITIZENS. YOU ARE CURRENTLY PARTICIPATING IN AN UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY. FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY, PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR RESIDENCES IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO RETURN IN THE NEXT FIVE HOURS WILL RESULT IN LEGAL CONSEQUENCES. RESISTING MAY LEAD TO ARREST. THE MOFFS AND IMPERATOR ARE CURRENTLY DISCUSSING APPROPRIATE PLANS TO ADDRESS LEGITIMATE CONCERNS, SO THERE IS NO NEED TO ENDANGER THE LIVELIHOODS OF YOUR NEIGHBORS FOR ANY LONGER. AFFILIATES OF ANY ANARCHIST OR TERRORIST GROUPS ARE NOT GUARANTEED AMNESTY.]

The announcement went out for the fifth time, projecting over the cries of the protesters from a loudspeaker system built into one of the custom-built barricades. The lieutenant legion commander kept his rifle ready with stun rounds as the crowd resurged, letting their grievances be known. Truthfully, FN-999 knew of no easy way to quell such concerns. He was no internal affairs minister, and lacked any real authority outside of his temporary occupation of the Free District. The commander had seen enough injustice to understand the fire that burnt in the eyes of the protesters as they continued their immense tug of war. Ultimately, he would have to hope that his detachment held out long enough for Imperial leadership to make a statement.

But even more importantly, FN-999 hoped to not have to fire a single lethal projectile into the crowd of misguided but good Imperial citizens, citizens who merely misunderstood the necessity of the Army's patriotic struggle against tyranny.

​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

GALIDRAAN FREE-STATE
BASTION

OBJECTIVE II - KNOW YOUR ENEMY

Moffs and Warlords in Attendance: Enlil Willan Tal Halketh

Standing to Tal's left, in parade-ground attire, Pencin was keeping a respectful distance away from the Lord-Protector's new official cloak, though the spot to Lord Willan's right was left purposefully vacant for the presence of Lord Erskine himself. Sporting his memorial-attire, it wouldn't be long before people began to recognise the Brigadier-General for the number-covered blue coat over the face of the man wearing such military clothing, much like his leader's cloak was doing for his own image. Having healed up and rehabilitated his soldier and tricep properly, there was no longer any necessity to wearing his coat at his shoulders like Tal's cloak, so Barran would be wearing his coat with sleeves on for the foreseeable future, and certainly in time for the latest grand assembly on Bastion.

As he marched towards the Galidraan Free-State podium, the Lord-Commander of Blue-Heart Brigade would shake hands with the Northern-Galidraani staff who accompanied Lord Willan for the latest political outing, but when Lord Erskine had turned around and tried to read the room after all handshakes and greetings were exchanged, (including his greetings with the Lord-Protector himself) he could feel the tension in the room almost immediately. Whether the majority could accord on recent developments or not still clearly danced on the finest of knife's edges, and the Woad-born general couldn't help but feel curious about what twists and turns the following proceedings would reveal as the hours passed.

Despite this, the Warlord-King of Ketaris was in attendance, giving at least some hope for a voice of reason besides that of the Free-State's revolutionary father; if there were more voices of people willing to hear their counterparts across the aisle, then there was hope for a mutual arrangement that would suit everyone attending, or (at the very least) for a substantial majority. Nudging the arm of his Lord-Protector politely, Erskine started,'Over to your.... Flat Two O'Clock.', pausing to lean back and allow his directions to point Enlil out to Tal as intended, then leaning over to whisper in his ear. As Lord Willan leaned over to listen intently, especially in an effort to hear his wardog over the commotion's crescendo, the Lord-Protector had turned and tilted his head to hear more closely as Barran concluded,'That's at least one voice of reason I've been able to find so far, I gave King Enlil advice during a tense situation on Ketaris. More speakers like him today, and we may just see some order by the time we all adjourn here.'

Both breaking off from the conversation and the identifying glance itself, both lords returned to scanning the room for faces they recognised, straightening their postures once more as the tension continued to increase around them. This was no ordinary debate between moffs and warlords, when rebellion from within is rife, the ones who would shine brightest would be stepping in to take the spoils that remained behind the ash-clouds, and none understood this process more than former mercenaries who saw each and every client on the outer-rim take ownership of the planetary husks they left behind. From the moment Tal's Tigers landed to play their part in the Second Battle of Bastion, the exiled Galidraani contingent would know Ravelin to be cursed to it's very core, and that those who would step up to rule it would be cursed worst of all for attempting to do so; especially after the Sith Empire's ICBM, their undead assault on the New Order-held Fort Imperator and the Sith-Spawn blight on the entire city, only immense failure awaited the most-naive of those who laid claim to the pockmarked planet of Bastion.

'Wait, is that- Lord Halketh?'
Last time I saw the man, we were drunk and joking about women together.... Blurry faces from nights out are just the worst.
​

​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THE COURSE OF EMPIRE
RAVELIN | BASTION
Enlil | Halketh | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran
IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY

TAKE A BOW
​

To be feared or loved. This was the ultimate dilemma of all those who took the reins as 'head of state' no matter the scale be it Galactic power or planetary authority, such was the precarious game men of power had to play. Irveric had more than endeared himself to his military, leading most every campaign in this war against the Sith which has turned from an existential crisis to a geopolitical conflict. One where the beginning seemed so long ago, nearly half a decade prior and the end still so far away. People were tired, starving, angry.

Irveric's return to the Hall of Defiance was enveloped by little of the fanfare that the arrival of the Sovereign Imperator might've normally warranted. By his own request. There was no time for revelry. Just the work that had to be done.

And so the power brokers of Irveric's New Order assembled. He eyed them all with his frigid indifference, regardless of his personal feelings toward any of them, he was discontent. While he suspected clandestine parties were responsible for a great deal of provoking Ravelin's populace, they weren't alone.

Ziost's wounds were still visible in his mortal flesh as he listened to the newly appointed Grand Vizier Enlil speak. He was a firebrand, contrary to the man who held the position at the New Order's onset. Irveric's father, Tyrell Paxxus. Very much so a man who was content to work in the shadows, a true head of government. As proficient as Enlil was, his personality, his character, too big, too vibrant to be ignored. Though when he spoke, it carried meaning.

He advised restraint. Restraint for those who spat at his very own image. But, the angle was clear and visible, he understood the thought process. As too, did Halketh voice his just concerns and levy much of the same. Compassion. At that, Irveric spoke up once again.

"I will show compassion when order is restored. There is no doubt in my mind, that as vast as these rabbles are that march in the streets we all liberated with our blood and toil, they work to disrupt the lives of those who work tirelessly to make a living and make up the foundation of what we have built. Those of our people who continue to work, to provide and sacrifice for our Empire, those are the ones who deserve our compassion. Not these people ripping apart our cities and streets like thugs. If there is to be compassion, there must first be order." Irveric states outright.

"But even so, clearing the streets will only offset a miniscule segment of the issue. Our recent projections show a struggling economy, faulty infrastructure and descending quality of living. This all needs to be addressed and soon. This will be the primary aim of our government. The Sith have been unable to initiate and sustain offensives into New Imperial space, I doubt they will try it again. The only question is where to start."

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Enlil | Irveric Tavlar | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Halketh
​

Carlyle had sat silently watching over the proceedings, watching as the warlords postured and pontificated. He wasn't exactly against what was proposed. The prospect of alienating an entire segment of ones population was disastarous as a political strategy. But yet Carlyle felt the posturing about citizenry from Halketh was.... Inept to say the least. Were these not whisperings of poisonous democracy? Representation? It filled him with a deep suspicion of the man. Not that he would tell the Lord of Carlac now of his thoughts. Like any diligent officer, he would bide his time until he could snipe at his own agenda. His own objectives, and find an angle to penetrate. And he found it with the Sovereign Imperator. He was correct that worlds on the broader scale had stagnated. Prefsbelt IV excluded of course, but the issues which plagued the Order could tear it apart, making the fiefdom an island in hostile space. And so, he would make his proposal.

"I don't believe our war against the Sith is the issue per se." Carlyle opined, eyeing the Imperator and the others present, "If I may opine, gentlemen," The Admiral Regent added, "I believe that the war against the Sith is still a positive, unifying force. It is the unfortunate stalemate we've found us in which burns us." Rausgeber mused to the assembled crowd, "People haven't forgotten the atrocities of the Sith. And we should continue to use that through propaganda to steer the crowd. Fear, let us not forget, is a powerful motivator. The anger in Ravelin's streets, should be curbed against our enemies. Tempered and driven to the factories and recruiting stations." He offered with a wry smile, before pausing, "But that is not an entire solution. The Sovereign Imperator is correct. Infrastructure is stretched thinly. Industry continues to falter and as a result living conditions stagnate."

"But what are we to do with this?" Carlyle inquired, eyeing the room with a cautious gaze, "I suggest, if I may, using modelling from Prefsbelt," Just to toot his own horn, "The establishment of new settlements. Industrial centres through our domain to manufacture goods. If the Sith cannot and will not fall, we can arm their enemies." He paused, "We have, as a collective within the military, an unprecedented strategic advantage. A reserve of scientists and engineers at the forefront of military development. I propose, we use them. Manufacture weapons. Guns. Arm those who may strike against our enemies." Carlyle added, "Make the Order the chief arms merchant of the Galaxy. Employ billions in the fires of industry and arm the Jedi, the Alliance, among others and have them bleed our enemies for us with their sons and daughters. All the while we profit. Use their purchases to invest in the niceties which make a middle class."

 

[Rohak Vizsla]

you're angered, so am i
the angry Zaavik Perl & Darth Daiara
​

Abaddon landed with an almost inaudible thud, like a cat, on the street leading up to his target. He carried forward in an undisturbed amble. Rioters, anarchists, troublemakers - all moved out of his way. The assassin scanned the area around the outdoor basement, searching for the lookouts. One twi'lek and one human trying hard to look inconspicuous at the opposing sides of the street. They weren't doing a bad job at it, they just pulled the shortest straw - Abaddon.

The alien noticed him first and hurried towards the stairs leading to the hideout. She never reached it, a stun dart planted on her back as she lied limp on the stairs, slightly convulsing from the static shocks. The human lookout rushed to her aid, completely oblivious to the threat behind him. He flailed like a fish out of water as Abaddon's crane of a hand lifted him off the ground. The man was a youth, maybe sixteen of age at most. Emmet Hayes' jaw clenched, a fledgling reminder flashing through his mind.

"Go home, kid." he flung the youth unto the streets and irritated carried down the stairs to the door leading into the outdoor basement. His sole eye turned electrifying red once more, its gaze passing through walls and counting bodies. He slowly, even reluctantly, drew the blade from the sheath on his back. The boy from before in every inch drawn blade.

The assassin raised his free hand, pointed it at the door, and fired.

An explosion blasted the door, along with its frame, forward, and through the smoke emerged death's herald. Color of steel and orange whirled leaving behind a crimson trail. The red-eye examining threats, risks and faces, and inhuman reflexes followed. Those too young were left behind with nonlethal wounds or knocked out, those that had come of age were given no mercy. A pattern was to be found if one was looking for it; yet, hard to look for something when the abyss stares down at you.

The ever-watching laser orb fell upon the masked man and the fiery-haired girl beside him. Surveying, assessing, and passing a verdict - all in a heartbeat.

Abaddon lunged with an abnormally long leap at the perceived head honcho, seeking to lob his head off his shoulders.

 

[Darth Daiara]

*missed some stuff, rewriting

 

[Darth Daiara]

BASTION / RAVELIN
INCOGNITO
Rohak Vizsla | Kolson Vrask | Zaavik Perl | CLOSED​

Annoyance flashed through her, her attention leaving the door frame and leveling on Zaavik. "I wasn't suggesting that we stray from the plan, only that we get out there and do it."

He always expected her to jump the gun. One of these days she was gonna jump his nose. With her fist. She made a noise of frustration and fixed her mask over her face, choosing to not reinforce his perception of her any further. Jedi always thought they were better. Need she remind him that they were here with her intel? Her ship?

Working together still had its kinks. Clearly.

She turned for the door-

An explosion rocked the room. Aradia's muscles jerked, moving ahead of her thoughts as she called the hidden saber from her pant line. Zaavrik had encouraged her to leave it in their ship, but she had waited until his back was turned to call it to her. He could chew her out later for it. For the now the deception served to save his life. The blade hiss on, the red light illuminating his purple hair as it caught the strike for his neck.

Her shock twisted into fury.

"Zaavrik, the door!"

The smoke masked it, sparks flying off the electric hinges. If there was more, they couldn't see it.

"Son of a-" She kicked at the assailants legs, trying to knock him down before he could catch his footing.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

「PAINT IT, BLACK」
KNOW YOUR ENEMY
BASTION / RAVELIN
INCOGNITO
Rohak Vizsla | Darth Daiara | Kolson Vrask
CLOSED

---

---

​

"I wasn't suggesting that we stray from the plan, only that we get out there and do it."​

Red fabrics obscured the look that came across his face. "Yeah? Well, you weren't exactly specific," he replied in a voice that sounded half-rebuke and half-tease. Could anyone really blame him for jumping to the conclusion that she was being rash? Come to think of it, jumping to conclusions was the best exercise he'd gotten since Ziost.

"Alright," he began with a breathy concession. "Let's delta, then. Don't wanna get tracked- I have a bad feeling COMPNOR is gonna be looking for chit like this." This, as in, exactly what the two of them were doing. He clicked a button on the datapad and killed the projection before slipping it back into its spot on his belt pouch.

At Aradia's call out, Zaavik snapped his eyes toward the door like a deer in headlights, only without the involuntary freezing. The Force sounded the silent alarm of danger in his psyche. A precognitive twinge guided his movements as the door effectively exploded. His left hand came up to snatch at the oncoming blade, regardless of Aradia's success or otherwise at kicking toward the assailants legs.

Spoke too soon. Metal crashed on metal as aluminiferous palm collided with the murderous instrument. A subsequent click echoed as fingers wrapped around the width of the blade defensively. "Why?" he asked with wry mock-lamentation through teeth grit with exertion. "Why do I have to say things?" he posed the inquiry to no one in particular aside from himself.

「MEATHOOK」​

Adrenaline hit all at once like a hover-freighter. Prosthetic fingers gripped to their limit over the blade. Not quite a crushgaunt worth of pressure, but enough that the edges could have begun to give. He stepped in, the free hand raising toward the underarm of the assailant.

His best effort at limb and weapon control would preceeded an indivisible use of the force. Zaavik heaved, leading with shoulders and adding a torque of his hips. The force surged, giving a momentary boost to his own strength and momentum as he attempted to throw the assailant over his hip and toward the cold, solid wall behind him.

 

[Onansi of Thyrsus]

BASTION / RAVELIN
IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Enlil | Irveric Tavlar | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Halketh | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Willan Tal

The addition of Thyrsus to the Banners of Iron saw his priorities shift. No longer did he carve through the battlefield alongside his golden gilded brothers. Slaughtering Sith and Confederate alike. Instead, he governed and plotted. For at the forefront of his mind since he had been made leader of the Sun Guards, and ruler of his people, had been the dream that had pushed him to fight for the New Imperials from the start; the Desolation of Eshan.

But the war continued, and Thyrsus' conflict with their long distant pale skinned cousins had been forgotten by the leaders within the Assembly. But now him. Onansi could not. Would not. Forget.

Merely... Take a break from.

The source of Ire for the people of Ravelin had been made clear. Ziost, Serenno... Deaths, too many to count. Slain in moments. Twice.

Led to deaths... For an Alliance that would not cast aside their allies that followed the tenets of the Crimson Blade. He had seen the images. Both leaked and official recordings. The events in Carannia were hardly better.

Onansi's features twisted into annoyance. It was... Difficult to determine a means to end a conflict he himself had not started.

"I am inclined to agree with the Admiral Regent on this matter," Onansi started. Naturally, he still bore a rational dislike for the man after his... Obvious thoughts to benefitting from the pain that plagued Thyrsus. Still, he waved a hand lazily before letting it collapse onto the table. "Disrupt the enemy, give our own people work. Show them that they have not been forgotten in the midst of this war of survival. The Sith may not strike now, but should they not collapse to their own infighting soon, it is without a doubt they will target us... They will have to, to once again prove to the Galaxy that they are to be feared."

"But first, we must sate the beast at home... Finish the reconstruction of Ravelin. Turn their anger towards the rightful target; the ones that took what they had. The Sith. Weapons... Recruitment... The promise of revenge will see the work done."

 

[Enlil]

Imperial Assembly

Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Halketh | Onansi of Thyrsus | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal

"We have sat on the matter of internal affairs for too long," he told them flatly. "Since the Imperium broke free from Sith rule and began to spread its influence, our focus has been amassing new worlds. We have taken nearly no time focusing on what we have already amassed. No thought at all has been given to upkeep and maintenence, yet you would have us throw bandages over these gaping wounds and send the armies back to war."

The Grand Vizier looked first to Onansi and then to the Admiral Regent. His expression did not change, his voice did not fluctuate. "The people of Thyrsus are warriors. I accept that you hunger for glory and rise high on accolades gained through conquest. I cede that to your own, the war effort may be the highest possible calling to which they can answer. But the people of this Imperium are not solely Thyrsian," Enlil continued as he regarded Rausgeber, "nor are they all so fully inundated with patriotism as those who find their way to Prefsbelt IV." Several members of the delegation would not be lost as to the underlying meaning in those words. "Glory does not build the roofs that shelter our people from storms. Vengeance does not fill the stomachs of the starving. If we want these people to keep faith with the Imperium, we must seek to understand and fulfill their basest needs."

He tapped a string of commands into his datapad and a projection of New Imperial space appeared in the center of the table, revolving slowly for all to see. "If you believe Ravelin is the sole ache in our Imperium, you are deluding yourselves. Thyrsus, Prefsbelt, these systems are the exception, not the rule. Even Ketaris struggles with unrest. It took severe measures to soothe the beast on my own world to a point where I could conceive of calling it "normal," and I have fought tooth and nail to spare them as much of the Imperial Tithe as possible. Our Empire boasts the strongest, most effective military in all of the Galaxy. Our strength is unquestioned, and those who have questioned us have fallen silent. What more have we to prove?"

He gestured to Lord Halketh now, one of the few others in the room who seemed to agree with him. "I will tell you. We have proven our might, and strengthened our influence. All that is left is to enrich our people. Give them lives worth living, purpose beyond mere fodder for cannons. Since birth, children born under the first few years of New Imperial rule have known only the threat of impending conflict. They have earned their respite in blood, and in the lives of their loved ones. They have earned no end of my own respect, and it is my genuine hope that they have earned even a small fraction of yours as well."

He then returned a contemplative expression toward Onansi. "The Sith may strike at us," he agreed, "and when that time comes, we will be ready. I am not asking to fold the military and pack it away entirely. I am suggesting that our focus shift inward. That implies shoring up defenses. Training replacements for the lost soldiers, strengthening our borders. We need not be aggressors. But we will need Imperial Citizens who are willing to fight with us, not against us. Our funding is best served on infrastructure, humanitarian relief, economic stimulus- things that enrich the public.

Or would you have us lord over an Empire of ashes?"