Faction Imperial Dreams [FO/NIO]

[Resurgent Narrative]

Avalonia, Dosuun​

Ambassador Hall​

​

Avalonia was as busy as ever on that beautiful autumn morning, the ball wasn't too far away. A four seasons city, the leaves had turned away from green into a beautiful array of oranges, yellows and reds. A cool crisp breeze rustled through the branches, and the skies overhead were as clear as ever. The smell of caff seemed to dominate the capital city and perhaps more so near Governance Row. Not too far away was Armitage Intergalactic Starport where security teams and a representative of the First Order's diplomatic team would meet with the New Imperial Order's delegation.​

​

Ambassador Hall would be prepared to recieve the delegation, from morning and brunch refreshments table in the conference room to the press room where chairs were being set out and various reporting agencies would be assigned seating. The Moff Council consisting of Renata Westaway, Ariel Yvarro, Vidia Vudrirn and perhaps Arador Terrix readied themselves for the meeting. Other attendees included Gotz Redwall and Matma Bernu from the First Order's side of things at the very least, while Caulder Dune had also given some inclination that they too would be joining the conference. ​

​

All the while the inherently Galidraani-styled city continued its morning routine. Children headed to school via bus transport provided typically by the schools, or they walked in groups. Older students stopping off at a morning diner to grab a bite to eat on the way. Business men and women headed for their corporate offices in their cars or by train, with stations becoming ever busier each day. Round abouts packed with traffic, was all just part of a typical Avalonian morning as was the sight of the armed forces. Military bases seemed to dot the outside of the city and seeing Stormtroopers or members of the Imperial Army, and even Naval Officers was not an all too uncommon sight to behold. ​

​

Avalonian Constabulary was also ever present in the city, and as security teams and the diplomatic team greeted the New Imperial Order delegation there would be at least one thing that would be very discernable. The skies were clear, scarcely an air speeder insight, rather they would most likely hear the comms of Armitage announcing transports to Prosperia, Victoria or intergalactic flights to nearby Sejong of Seoul, Perón of Needan, New Laveau or Sundiata in Mephout. When asked why it was the skies were clear, the diplomatic representative would answer simply for safety. They had all experienced it at some point in their life, when some poor sod five sky lanes above you wrecked and the amount of chaos it sent below. Nevermind the emissions from the air speeders that polluted the sky. Here at least, emergency vehicles could more effectively reach their charges and as the sound of TIE fighters screeched nearby. It allowed the Starfighter Corps to perform their routine patrols without fear of running into civilians. ​

​

The city itself was certainly a mix of architecture from the surviving buildings of the 840s and 850s, to the new nuanced buildings whose lines seemed to be a throwback to an older style of Galidraani architecture altogether. The New Imperial Order's delegation would be taken to a motorcade with their emblem embolded on the doors of the car. The motorcade would be flanked by a small First Imperial Army detail as an added safety measure. ​

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Jaeger Harrsk | Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Djorn Bline | Tyrell Paxxus | Natasi Fortan ​

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​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
H A V E _ A _ C I G A R

It was a far trek from any slice of the Galaxy Tavlar had known himself familiar, to be in the heart of the First Order. Dosuun. Much of the city harkened back to the proverbial 'old world', postured in a favor of a higher degree of sophistication in contrast to the boiling heart of the core of Coruscant and the steely monument to Imperial glory that was Ravelin. Something more humble here, in spite of the shadows of past dominance the First Order once reveled in.

Whatever customs the Dosuunian ettiquette demanded, there was nothing with holding Tavlar from forcing open the metallic cannister of cigarra in his coat pocket before sparking one of them alight between his teeth, grasping ahold of it with his crimson, metallic digits as he forced an smoky exhale from the smoky draw of the sweetened herb.

Across from him in the New Imperial marked vehicle, the rest of the delegation. An even split, two COMPNOR, two men more bent on reformist or conservative Imperial tendencies in contrast to the ideological crusaders within the New Order. All the while, the Imperator would be there to serve his role as head of state, the sole leader of the New Imperial Order.

While Prefsbelt might have been the first contact between these two wayward Imperial states, it would be here that the two governments actually met eye to eye on diplomatic grounds. He'd anticipated the First Order would be more keen to write away the stand-off over Prefsbelt IV, at the very least Tavlar was willing to. It was handled adequately on both sides and resulted in no direct hostile action taken either way (with even a brief yet notable bout of military cooperation between the two nations.)

Regardless, this was the true start.

The standard media array was set out here to absorb the meeting between New and First Imperials, the flash and flicker of holo cams mounted to floating drones and the hands of eager journalists ignited in Tavlar's senses as they approached Ambassador Hall proper. Dressed in their black, grey and silver, the contrasting flavor of Imperial stuck out just well enough from the surrounding First Order to mark them as the NIO's delegation, if the rugged and sharpened mettle nature of each of their appearances alone didn't distinguish them from the tranquil and proper nature of the reclaimed First Order as is.

Upon entering the conference room, he was eager to step toward each of the accompanying members of the First Imperial delegation, offering the cold and stiff grip of his metallic hand to any willing to accept the greeting, offering a nod with no audible distinguishing of his name or titles. He thought himself a recognizable enough face across the Galaxy by now and if the silver rank bars pressed to his fatigue below his ever recognizable features. His concealed eye, the protruding horn of jagged Beskar. Then nothing else could.

As much as he was able to posture himself a politician toward the waning days of the Third Imperial Civil War, the possession of his military nature, the need to forgo etiquette in favor of business needing to be done. Butting out his cigarra in a nearby ashtray, he seated himself across from the First Imperials, a brief glance looking over each of them to gauge the faintest tinge of their intent, their initial impression of their counterparts before he spoke up.

"I'm very appreciative of the chance to finally make due on an official contact between our two nations. The Galaxy is not kind to the Imperial and thus, it not be in our interests collectively to regard the other with any measure of disrespect. That I've no doubt is within both of our interests but I must ask firstly if there is any conclusion the First Order seeks to reach from this meeting beyond a simple means of 'first contact', regardless of which we are more than happy to oblige and familiarize our two governments with one another." Tavlar stated, addressing all of them indiscriminately until one of them made clear of their role as the head of the counterpart delegation.

"Regardless, the New Imperial Order is more than eager to discuss more nuanced and complicated matters as well...being as we're all here already." The Sovereign Imperator concludes, opening the air for another from either delegation to speak.

NIO // Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan / Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
TF / IGBC // Caulder Dune

 

[Lucien Dooku]

// Drippin'// Avalonia // Dosuun //
// THE_BOYS // FIRST_ORDER //
[S W A N G I N']​

---

---

There seemed to always be another assignment which involved him traveling the galaxy on behalf of the Order. The Warlord of Nirauan had begrudgingly agreed to accompany the Imperator across the galaxy for no other reason than to meander his way across the world of Dosuun once the formalities and meeting had come to an end. He'd traveled clear across the galaxy more times than he'd count, but truth be told he'd never once heard of the world that the First Order had adopted as their homeward. Despite his position within the Order, his knowledge of the First Imperials of the Outer Rim was far more limited than what say the Sith-Imperials or the worlds of the Alliance.

He'd heard the stories of what they once were, and could see their influence through the establishment of his fellow Warlord's dominion over Prefsbelt. Whatever they once were, he'd arrived a bit too late to the party to witness them during their zenith. "A shame." He commented to himself, grey eyes peering across the vehicle towards the Grand Vizier of the Order, Tyrell Paxxus , a man who he'd admittedly not been able to interact with as much since taking full reigns over Nirauan. Regardless, he waived the comment off with a dashing grin, glazing his eyes across to the window to get a better look at the city around him.

The growing city reminded him of the sprawling metropolis of New Carannia, a city which found itself under a similar amount of construction and growth. Truth be told, he could truly care little for what the First Order had been in its prime. Whatever they had been, he was certain that in could only pale in comparison to the potential that he'd seen upon arriving to the capitol city of Dosuun. He'd grown into an individual who looked forwards to the future whilst keeping a watchful eye to the present.

After all-- Sometimes you had to move backwards, if you wanted to go forwards.

And with elements such as Compnor beginning to dominate the ideology of the Empire, he could only hope that the First Imperials were far more capable of seeing things in a light similar to his. They were a beacon of Imperialism in this part of the galaxy, but it was up to them to decide if that beacon would shine a bright light towards the people, or cast a dim glow onto the galaxy instead. The latter would be a shame, but Luc wouldn't allow the thought to cast doubt onto his mind, or the mission that guided him to make Nirauan the true Bastion of the Unknown Regions. No matter the opposition he may faced, eventually the river must be crossed if the Empire he helped to establish were to survive the tides to come.

But all of that would come in due time.​

The time for self-reflection had come to an end when their motorcade was brought to a stop, and the doors to the vehicle swung open to reveal the publicized affair that they were to be subjected to. Despite his reservations, it was nigh impossible for Lucien to show up to an event of his nature without having the full intention to not just show up, but show out. Dressed down in the finest wear that he owned, Lucien proved a stark contrast from even the NIO Delegation that he too was apart of. The drab and formal black, grey and silvers were cast aside for the more vibrant fashion that was a hallmark of his native world of Serenno.

As was in his nature, Lucien intended to stand out from the solemnity that marked the rest of his peers around him. A million-credit smile flashed between each holocam and journalist who were present to see their delegation arrive. Blue-grey eyes glazed across the crowd to accompany that mischievous smile of his, and the occasional handshake was delivered to those who found his gregarious nature too infectious to let slide. For all of his faults, including that ingrained rebelliousness that hallmarked his reign over Nirauan, one fact remained more true than the others.

Lucien had always been marketable to the galaxy.​

And with the formalities of the glitz and glamour over and done with, he followed suit in last place behind the rest of the Imperial delegation. Eventually he'd enter the conference room behind his peers, sauntering towards the First Imperial delegation who they came to meet without missing a beat in his step. He greeted them just the same as with the display he'd put on outside, extending a fluid handshake to match the devilish grin that trademarked his visage. When it was all said and done, he casually strolled across to his seat-- ensuring he was on the opposite end of wherever the dogs of Compnor sat -- and seated himself first, not even bothering to wait for the Imperator or their hosts, for that matter.

He'd put on the airs of nobility on behalf of the Empire, and with that completed it was safe to assume that his job was now done.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi Fortan stood at the head of a line, waiting for the New Imperials. The galaxy seemed to be chock-a-block with Imperials these days. The First Imperials, the New Imperials, and the Sith Imperials. Differing ideologies. Similar stormtrooper armor. It was interesting that two of the three seemed at odds with each other; she could see that to a lay person, the idea of imperials feuding would be somewhat counter-intuitive, but Natasi was aware from experience that similar ideologies often had more friction between them than vastly different ones.

The Supreme Leader was excited for the meeting. She had always enjoyed diplomatic discussions in her previous life as Grand Moff. Things were different now; functionally, she was Supreme Leader and Grand Moff in one, not having settled on a Moff to ascend to the coveted position as her chief minister and head of government. From an outsider's perspective, Ariel Yvarro was the natural choice, but Natasi was sensitive to the appearance of nepotism, and she was not convinced that the young woman was ready for the responsibilities. She would be tested in the forge and crucible of galactic politics, and if she survived, then perhaps the time would be right. Another candidate, Renata Westaway, was currently serving as Foreign Minister. She knew less about Westaway; she seemed resilient and capable, but her ability to lead and her dedication was still not proved to Natasi's satisfaction. So while Westaway would take a large part in the negotiations, Natasi was here to ensure the smooth running of things.

And, she admitted to herself, to get out.

She was curious about the New Imperials and their Sovereign Imperator -- the only person, Natasi felt, whose title was on par with her own. What little she knew about him was drawn from sketchy Intelligence briefings and the media, but that was no guarantee that what one saw is what one got. So she was prepared to suss it out on her own, to flex the social muscles that had atrophied since her death some years ago.

When introductions were being made, Renata took the lead. Natasi took the Sovereign Imperator's metal hand when offered, giving it a firm shake as she smiled politely, maintaining eye contact for the few moments they remained in contact before moving on. Once the introductions concluded, the Supreme Leader took her seat opposite the Sovereign Imperator. She was about to welcome them to Avalonia when the Sovereign Imperator spoke. Natasi smiled pleasantly.

"I directed my government to organize this meeting so that we could get to know one another," Natasi began, resting her hands in her lap. She sat ramrod straight in her seat. "In the long run, my aim with the New Imperial Order is the same as with all the other galactic powers: friendly relations and cooperation in the aim of building a safe and secure environment for my people. Understanding the political realities and limitations, I realize any kind of formal agreement is likely out of reach for us today, but if nothing else I'd like to establish lines of communication and trade, to make friendly neighbors out of relative strangers."

"I hope you feel this is a worthwhile pursuit as well." She turned to the others in the First Order delegation and said: "I gather my ministers will have some policy priorities of their own. Moff Yvarro?"

Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Djorn Bline | Tyrell Paxxus
Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Vidia Vudrirn | Arador Terrix | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
Caulder Dune​

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

C O M P N O R
A V A L O N I A | D O S U U N

Jaeger Harrsk could not help but allow a smile creep across his face as he stared at the scenery of Avalonia through the window of the motorcade. He bore no special affiliation or alignment towards the First Imperials, neither now nor in the past; his whole life he'd given it to rise of Imperialism in the Core and specifically his home world of Empress Teta. No, the smile was the product of a reminiscence of a turbulent past - the roars of jubilation echoing through the halls of the pro-Imperial paramilitary "Imperial Banner" as the First Order crushed the Galactic Alliance on Kaeshana, the rallies against the yet-another failed democratic government and support for the First Imperials' fight against the Alliance. Of course, the "Imperial Banner" had occasional contact and indirect backing from the first imperials' intelligence agency acquainting him merely with a glimpse of the Order in the Outer Rim. Everything else was merely knowledge gathered second or third hand.

Today he would meet them personally. On Avalonia, once known as the beacon of prosperity across the uncivilized Outer Rim, which after being pillaged from the extragalactic invaders was now in full force to recovery. Certainly, there were ideological differences between the two Imperial states but one thing could never be different - the diligence to build order, prosperity and security.

Their arrival was welcomed with a touch of class, not pompousness which the prince of Serenno from their own entourage carried in abundance. The Imperator had the knack to bring the wayward ruler of Nirauan as part of critical envoy missions much to the disapproval of the commissioner. He could only assume it was Tavlar's idea to maintain the strength of his own rule in addition to Dooku's noble roots which brought an almost necessary balance in the general militaristic disposition and background the rest of the New Imperial leaders possessed.

He returned the formalities in his usual, composed and unimpressive demeanor. Where Dooku shone bright like a star, Jaeger succumbed into its deepest shadows. In the same spirit he took the seat next to the Imperator, thanked for the coffee served and leaned back casually into the comfort of his chair; his hand went instinctively for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket but stopped. The right hand replaced its cigarette hobby with that of resting idly on the armrest, his thumb caressing his fingers missing the roll of tobacco. This was not the briefing room back on Bastion.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline
FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
TF // Caulder Dune

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
N.S.U.

And so the soldier walked into the inevitable path of politics and foreign affairs.

Ask him twenty years ago where'd he see himself from now and he'd tell them he'd just be a soldier, carrying out a duty to serve his beliefs and nation that he was patriotic for. Just an honest man wanting to be a hero that inspired others to follow his footsteps. A hero he was, but one, during his years of service after graduation, that performed questionable and dirty acts that corrupted him. Nothing could ever reverse the pulling of the trigger behind the pistol, and so there was no going back to his summer days of innocence he shed off of his soul. All for the dream; the Imperial Dream.

Snake was told he'd be going to places in his youth, his character catching the eye of many officers in the SA-group of Bastion and later the planetary Stomtrooper Corps of Bastion before the reign of the Sith Empire. It looked like being entrusted by Irveric as one of the delegates of their growing nation was one of those places he'd end up in. An honor it was despite his abhorrence of politics. Another taint on his mark, but at least he wasn't a corrupt Republic senator with selfish desires.

Like everyone that arrived at Dosuun from the Braxant Run, save for Lucien in his royal robes, Djorn attired himself in his uniform that carried his rank, shades veiling his eyes and a beret adorning his blonde hair. He appreciated the scenery of the city of Avalonia; clean streets that gave the impression of a city little to none of unemployed citizens with everyone assuming their daily task they carried out throughout the week. Responsible Imperials creating their own future and destiny. Something he admired, along with the tight security as no speeders polluted the air as the New Imperials were reserved for a motorcade. Primitive technology for a modern galaxy, but one couldn't resist to appreciate the retro style of an object that was properly maintained. Everything his eyes gathered from the scenery and attitude of people was that these were a different caliber of Imperials, especially with their taste of architecture and clothing. Probably romanticized of a bygone age that was hard to come across through the Galaxy.

Throughout the ride a cigar stick was consumed by Bline, one that was sugar tipped that made the flavor much more delicious with every puff of smoke he took. It was still alive even upon entering the conference room with the other batch of First Order Imperials, Tavlar taking point with Djorn following in suit. Firm handshakes he offered to those on the opposite side of the table, a nod of respect with any short dialogue if it came up when greeting the First Order delegates and staff. Finally he sat down, away from Lucien and Tyrell, and joined with Harrsk on the other side of Irveric. Both heads of state spoke first before anyone else, the Imperator wondering for the intents of the First Order in this meeting with the Supreme Leader answering honestly. Typical that ideas of trade and a mutual relationship would be worked for as did the Supreme Leader said in her own words.

"What other Galactic Powers have you reached thus far, Miss Fortan? I'm sure we're not the first one's you've made contact with, yes?" before he made another draw of tobacco and puffed out essence from his his mouth, thin unique lines of smoke curtaining his face before evaporating in the same air. What may seem to be a simple question was just a move for Snake to gather data and information. He like to know what cards everyone were holding in their hands. Both him and Jaeger would be the most observants from their comrades, dissecting every action made both verbally and nonverbally.

"Old habit, can't resist," he gestured with the same fingers holding the cigar should any eyes made any looks at his way.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus |
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
TF / IGBC // Caulder Dune

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

M O O D
​

Ariel Yvarro was pleased to see the New Imperial Order had arrived and were apt to actually participate. The brilliance of the flashing lights from the press had been shut out of the room. Brigadier Gotz Redwall and Knight Matma Bernu entered the room. The press would have to wait out in their designated room until both delegations were done talking. She sat beside Natasi with Vidia Vudrirn beside her, she looked across the table and surveyed those who had arrived on the New Imperial Order's behalf. Of those that sat before her, she knew of Tavlar the most, having been privy to some information during the Third Imperial Civil War. ​

​

The young woman shook hands with those who offered it, her grip just as firm as ever. She gave them each a once over just before the Sovereign Imperator began to speak. Ariel's eyes had fallen over Lucien Dooku 's style and just how much he stood out from his peers when someone Djorn Bline specifically uttered a word, a phrase that had the woman internally s c r e a m i n g. Quietly, she cleared her throat and introduced herself. "I am Moff Ariel Yvarro and, I would ask that we address Her Majesty by her title Supreme Leader Fortan, as opposed to Miss." After all, Natasi was a grown arse kriffing woman and not to be talked down to in any such manner. ​

​

"As far as other galactic powers, that information shall not be discussed here. Our purposes here is to meet with your government, Mister...?" She inquired on a name, after all if he was so bold as to address a woman higher than his station as if she were a secondary school girl. Then he ought to feel as if he can give his own name, or was this the part he continued to play the ol' game of press your luck. "Now, I do want to thank all of you for coming so far. We certainly appreciate it," Ariel continued her tone having thawed from the earlier correction. She found that the one who stood out, the one who at least put on the airs of nobility. Yes, that one drew her eyes but she kept herself focused on the task at hand.​

​

She turned to address the Sovereign Imperator directly as to answer his questions. "I echo the sentiments expressed by Supreme Leader Fortan, when I say that my goal is to establish friendly relations and cooperation. Establishing the lines of communication, and trade between our governments for starters."​

​

NIO: Jaeger Harrsk | Irveric Tavlar
FO: Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway ​

TF: Caulder Dune ​

 

[Caulder Dune]

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline
FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu

​

Caulder Dune, the Deputy Director of the InterGalactic Banking Clan (and alleged associate of the Trade Federation), was also present - insofar as the material fact that his withered body was in the room could be considered a presence. There was not much to notice of him. The Deputy Director was an Umbaran of advanced age, dressed in all the finery of a banker, and dependent on an ornate wooden cane for support. He looked as good as one could at that age. Which was to say: not especially.​

​

He was accompanied by a protocol droid which could be described, if one were being polite, as having a sinister appearance to it. Caulder Dune arrived alongside the New Imperial delegation and took his seat at the very end of their line. The droid loomed behind his seat, quiet and still as a statue.​

​

It could be said that Caulder Dune had shown up to further the interests of either the InterGalactic Banking Clan. Or the Trade Federation. It was more likely that he had shown up to see what, if anything, would happen here. And perhaps offer commercial advice were it requested. Though why anyone would want something so bleak and technocratic at an event as upbeat as this was beyond him.​

​

This was ultimately an excuse to visit Dosuun. He had never been. His understanding was that the planet had been sacked at least several times, which meant that the First Order really knew how to clean a place up. As opposed to the New Imperial Order, which had shown itself to be excruciatingly adept at burning a place down.​

​

Truly this was as ideal a political match as one could hope.​

​

Caulder's expression remained inscrutable for the duration of the opening remarks, though this broke to offer a disdainful glare at the ill-mannered baboon with the lit cigar. No matter how important the affair, there was always that one person...​

 

[Matma Bernu]

First Imperial Knight Matma Bernu stood at attention, standing alongside Gotz Redwall , surveying the assembled delegation of New Imperials. The Chiss absentmindedly scratched his cybernetic arm- a souvenir from a mission on Needan gone awry. The sensation was...strange. Bernu would have to make an appointment with FIMS to take another look at it. At least the leg wasn't giving too many issues.

All in all, the Knight had served with distinction, and even overcome a societal-ingrained loathing of the Force, albeit at some personal cost. Consequently, the Knight-Commander had finally decided to allow for Bernu to commence his trials to become a Sentinel. Being able to represent the Knights in these settings, she rationalized, are nearly as important as how one comported themselves on the battlefield. This would be the first of several assignments he would undertake, before a decision could be rendered.

'And what an assignment', he thought wryly, as the Irveric Tavlar began his opening statements. Personally, Matma thought opening the doors of communications between the two Imperial states was a marvelous idea. There wasn't too much bad blood between them- according to his briefing, there had been that stand-off on Prefsbelt IV. Additionally, when it came down to it, they believed in similiar ideals- meritocracy, order, justice.

Plus, they weren't politicians.

Matma winced as Ariel Yvarro pointedly upbraided Djorn Bline 's momentary lapse in decorum. He gave Redwall a loaded look, as if to say, 'Did you hear that?', before standing at attention, making sure he followed the proceedings in case he had to answer any question on behalf of the Knights.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus |
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall
TF / IGBC // Caulder Dune

 

[Gotz Redwall]

By the Ashla and all that was holy did he need a smoke.

Gotz scratched at the patch of skin beneath his wristwatch for the sixteenth time since entering the room, and ardently hoped no one was noticing the recurring habit. He'd been allowed to do whatever he pleased during his mercenary days, and holding to the formalities of his sponsors was proving to be a particularly taxing affair.

How could one properly discuss affairs of state sober? The ancients would scoff at their lack of due diligence.

The moment he noticed himself scratching, he pinned his arms to his sides, and did his best to look focused. Given his past circumstances, his presence here was noteworthy, though if not for those around him than for himself. Gotz had stood at the side of emperors before and found himself lacking: to do so again was a second chance. A noticeable flicker in his otherwise fading flame.

He was here partly to better represent the military and, in particular, his free corps: that and to provide security, not that such was necessary here in the heart of the First Order's seat of power. The NIO's upper echelons were not stupid; they wouldn't try for something blatant with their own people present. If anything, Gotz expected an attempt at friendship. The NIO had few friends, and the First Order was a bit of a galactic pariah as far as the other great powers were concerned.

It was that pariah status that had brought Gotz to their doorstep. A man like him could thrive in the chaos of a nation state's rebirth, perhaps even ascend.

The smell of tabac stirred him from his thoughts. A brow was lofted as he stared at Djorn Bline from behind his red lenses. To not light his own now would be an expression of submission, and Gotz could not have that. This was to be a meeting of equals: it was his duty to partake. That doing so might also fulfill his urge took absolutely no toll on his judgement whatsoever.

With the practiced motion of an hourly habit, Gotz retrieved his pipe from his coat, sprinkled shredded tabac down the bowl, lit the old herb, and drew in a lungful of hazy smoke. He had the courtesy, at the least, to blow the smoke away from his people.

His head tilted toward Matma Bernu , and a brief smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing as quickly as it had come. However things shook out, Redwall would do his best to come out on top. As far as he was concerned, everything that would take place between now and then was just mid-flight entertainment.


FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn
NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

G R A N D _ V I Z I E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
H A V E _ A _ C I G A R
Post isn't great, working through some writers block. Thanks for your patience.

So familiar, yet so foreign. Dosuun wasn't a planet Tyrell had ever heard of before the resurgence of the First Order. And this side of the Galaxy certainly wasn't one he'd ever been to. Hyperspace technology made any world one could think of within their reach, yet the deep Galactic South was always so far away.

As if mirroring the Imperator, Tyrell lit the thin white paper shaft between his lips. The acrid fragrance of the fumes filled the New Imperial transport vehicle in a matter of moments. The cigarra itself may have been a pleasant partakement for the Grand Vizier, but for those within who abstained from such things, the smell was the opposite.

The door closest to the Grand Vizier opened. Wallace Paxxus had been assigned to the delegation, excluded from the diplomatic proceedings in favor of security. Tyrell stepped out of the transport with a light groan. He straightened himself, knees and spine aching in protest. A free hand patted down the front of his shirt and coat, thwarting any folds or wrinkles. A final draw from the cigarra flooded his lungs before hissing an exit through his teeth.

"You really gotta quit those, Dad," Wallace said. He was still holding the door open, standing a significant few inches over his father.

Tyrell's neck craned over to produce a glance. A small smirk crawled across his face. "I know," he responded. Lingering wisps of smoke in his chest escaping in small puffs with each syllable.

His cane struck the ground as his stride began alongside the rest of the delegation. Tap, click, pain. Tap, click, pain. Tap, click, pain. An old memory forever niggling his leg. A wound of war, longing to remain relevant. With the doors before him, Tyrell leaned on his cane and lifted his leg. The cigarra was snuff on the bottom of his shoe before being discreetly discarded into an inner coat pocket. Littering a half-smoked cylinder, regardless of how insignificant, wouldn't make a good impression.

The delegation spread out into the conference room. Firm handshakes, obliging eye-contact, and exchanging of names and titles. Tedious formalities performed on instinct, ignoring the fatigue of the uptightness of the office of the Grand Vizier.

"Supreme Leader Fortan," he greeted. A faint, polite smile offered a welcoming expression without sacrificing the stoic firmness of a New Imperial. "Grand Vizier Paxxus, a pleasure."

"I'm very appreciative of the chance to finally make due on an official contact between our two nations. The Galaxy is not kind to the Imperial and thus, it not be in our interests collectively to regard the other with any measure of disrespect.​

"Those of like mind are sparse in the galaxy as of recent years. Especially of those in distinguished positions," Tyrell added.

"-cooperation in the aim of building a safe and secure environment for my people." "-I'd like to establish lines of communication and trade, to make friendly neighbors out of relative strangers."​

"Your willingness to put your people first is an admirable contrast to iron-fisted ideations that the title so powerfully named 'Supreme Leader' often invokes." As if 'Imperator' was any less encompassing. "We are far from neighbors in galactic orientation, despite our loose kinship through ideology. What avenues of trade would the First Order find beneficial despite the challenges of such a distant line? We're both somewhat disconnected from mainline trade traffic in our nooks of wild and unknown space respectively." If it wasn't for the conquest of the Braxant run, New Imperial economics wouldn't be anywhere near as prosperous as they'd become.

"At a glance, you don't appear to be wanting for much. Although if I'm merely being deceived unintentionally by your aesthetics, I'm sure our partners in the Trade Federation, or less officially the IGBC, would be more than willing to oblige." Tyrell looked around. "There is much more to be gained from a trade agreement than friendly influence, but I'm sure that's obvious," Tyrell grinned. The dry implications of his words likely a mere bumbling enigma to most.

"Let me tell you something, Paxxus, one Imperial to another-" "Once, I considered my own Order the pinnacle of progress, a force for change that would remake the Galaxy in its new, efficient image. I knew, more than I had ever known anything, that the First Order could make it real, that we could reforge the Galaxy. For a time, we did."​

Tyrell fell silent from his mostly meaningless political kindlings when he remembered those words. It was no secret to anyone that the First Order he saw before them was a shadow of what it had once been. Tyrell had seen them crush the Alliance of old with his own eyes. And now here they were, tucked away in some obscure reach of wild space.

"But then began the rot. It all slowly fell apart, the dream of prosperity slipping between our fingers as the Galaxy spiralled into darkness and war."

"Do you understand? You are not new."

"All of this has happened before."​

He'd initially disregarded her words as a belligerent resistance to the fall of Bastion. It wasn't. Moff Lowe wasn't as brainlessly dogmatic as so many other Sith-Imperial officials. She was no fool, though some could have argued her unwillingness to defect as evidence to contrary. These words had stuck with him since Bastionfall, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

'One Imperial to another.' Tyrell look around. Every face an Imperial. Many of them had seen this rot firsthand. Some of them had probably seen it more than once. No ideology was perfect, and Imperials seemed to always succumb that same fate. Were they wrong? Tyrell didn't believe so. He hoped the First Order's willingness to work with the New Imperials could ensure their mutual survival.

This didn't staunch the doubt. But nothing ever would.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Jaeger Harrsk | Lucien Dooku | Djorn Bline | Caulder Dune
FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN

His gaze focused singularly on Fortan as soon as she began to speak, his counter part as head of state. Just as he was an enigma to him, the same right came his way of her. Fitting. Luckily, it made any preconceived notion, any expected response fall to the wayside in favor of a more fluid interaction between these two states. An Imperial state resurgent from the ashes that fell from the great blaze it lit in the Galaxy years prior and an Imperial state which had carved itself into being by blood and iron.

Whatever they were, there was little in the means of cultural or ideological divergence in the broad stroke. There were several hills which they would die on with one another but Tavlar anticipated that over time, the chance of a true friendship and alliance was more than possible.

After-all, this Galaxy was one for the wolves. With power belonging to those unafraid to delve into the bloodied fray. Those who took the right of the conqueror into their own hands. It was something the New Imperial Order had become accustomed to in its furious emergence into the Galaxy at large and it was certainly something the First Order had known when they put the Galactic Alliance to its knees in the Great Galactic War.

For better or worse, Tavlar would be confident the First Order would re awaken itself in a similar manner in the future, even if now they looked to the rest of the Galaxy with a bright face and an oath of non belligerence.

He yielded the floor a moment to his New Imperial subordinates. Jaeger and Lucien were more content to watch and listen than speak up themselves and in contrast, Paxxus for his hands dirty in the political arena. Something he was pointedly adept at and it was a recovery in stride from Djorn’s mid placement of words and etiquette.

As Tyrell spoke, in the wake of Ariel’s sharp correction of Djorn, the Imperator looked across his half of the table the way of Snake. His gaze matched with his in a frigid exchange of looks. It was a look that said nothing and everything all at once, as if the next Djorn would try and speak up again out of turn, he’d see it within his pineal and contain himself.

In the same right, the request by Ariel was ignored in kind by Tavlar, offering only the slightest glance in her direction as if purely to acknowledge she existed at all before he looked the way of Tyrell and Fortan again.

Tyrell’s oration and sentiment on behalf of the New Order, certainly as Tavlar saw it, was pitch perfect. Cordial as they had no reason not to be, not to them, not here.

“Indeed. While the Galactic proximity of our two nations makes direct and lucrative trade a difficult prospect, there is no doubt the First Order will be slotted as a higher priority partner among the other Galactic governments. Our current standing has large scale commerce with any of our neighbors as a difficult prospect be it trade lane access or growing tensions. While the New Order officially pursues an autarkic economic policy, there is no doubt our two nations can help one another along that path, so that the next ‘violet curtain’ to come along doesn’t hemmorage either of our economies and force us into a place of weakness with the nations between us holding all the cards.” Tavlar proposes, seemingly his private meetings with the Director of the Trade Federation and head of the board of Imperial Economic Directors had done the Imperator well in appraising the NIO’s place within the Galactic economy. And as it was placed strategically on the Galactic map, it was enveloped in nothing but unfriendly or hostile entities. The Sith Empire of course, the Silver Jedi, the Galactic Alliance and now a fledgling united Mandalore Sector.

“Otherwise, I do empathize the aim of the First Order, to maintain friendliness with its neighbors and the Galaxy at large. To undo what led to the fall from grace that the First Order in its last iteration underwent. But in truth...this is only viable for so long. The First Order is positioned as precariously as the New Imperial Order, surrounded by neighbors of nebulous intent or even...inevitable enemies. But still, the time is young for the First Order. Just know that the New Imperial Order looks favorably upon those who share a similar way of life, a similar struggle, a similar belief of how things should very well operate. We wish for nothing but a long lasting friendship between our two nations though I am well and understanding of...reservations that could be had on behalf of the First Order toward us. It should be known in the end, regardless. We have more common interests than might otherwise be initially perceived." Tavlar and by extension, the New Imperial Order was a deeply polarizing entity but as far as the rest of the pack of Galactic cronies, they were looked down upon harshly.

No matter, as this is what happens when the Imperial decides they must control their own fate and not let the Jedi or Sith dictate it for them.

"Regardless, the First Order will eventually have to hold to itself the dilemma of who will have more patience for it through the inevitable trials and tribulations. I assure you, as similarly as we posture ourselves, our two states. Any discourse with the others...you will find yourselves feeling far more alien to them. And then it will be clear how alone we truly are in this Galaxy." The Sovereign Imperator states in blunt candidness. It was not a difference that came down to species, not in the slightest. But the Jedi, the Sith, the fraternization of all of it that combines into the Confederacy were far less endearing to them.

NIO // Tyrell Paxxus | Jaeger Harrsk | Lucien Dooku | Djorn Bline
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Vidia Vudrirn | Matma Bernu | Arador Terrix | Gotz Redwall
$$ // Caulder Dune

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's melted-chocolate gaze fell upon Tyrell Paxxus and Irveric Tavlar in turn, her lips upturned at the edges in polite silence as she listened to the two men. She regretted that her cousin had come at the New Imperial delegation with a baseball bat; perhaps she needed a reminder as to what the point of a diplomatic summit was. But that would be a discussion for another time; it would not do to upbraid a supposedly senior member of the First Order government in front of foreigners. Instead, she simply smiled and lifted a hand. At once, a uniformed footman approached and leaned in to hear Natasi's murmured command.

He left the room at a clip.

"I appreciate your blunt analysis of the situation," began the Supreme Leader, clasping her hands before her. "And your advice is well taken. I know all too well of the necessity at one point to take a side. And while, as a rule, the First Order seeks to make peace first, it is not peace at any cost. If they were still alive, the old Galactic Alliance could attest to that. I am increasingly aware of the agendas at play, particularly with your closer neighbors in the core. My hope is that the citizens of these nations will understand how little their leaders value their lives, being so willing -- eager, you might say -- to sacrifice them in a crusade against semantics."

The doors swung open once more and the footman returned holding a tray with both hands, accompanied by a young man in an identical livery. Like clockwork, they rounded the table with the first footman holding the tray and the second picking up one of several bronze ashtrays, each emblazoned with tiny First Order symbols around the rim. He placed one between the people at the table -- tacit invitation for the guests and First Imperials alike to partake, or continue partaking, if they wished. "And if they don't, and their leaders force a conflict where there ought not be one, then I believe a certain quote applies: the goal is not to die for your country, but to make the other son of a queen die for his. Is that right?"

"As far as trade," she went on after a brief pause, "The galaxy is a very large place, but hyperlanes have also made it somewhat small. New technologies are making the transport of goods and people less and less expensive. The Unknown Regions is a source of a great deal of exotic materials, flora and fauna the likes of which are not found anywhere else in the galaxy, and the First Imperial Medical Service will be leading the charge on developing these items into new and exciting medical applications, and other applications I'm sure will also be possible. The First Order's government will be making substantial investments on scientific development, commercial applications for which we would be willing to license or otherwise trade. Meanwhile, the First Order will be looking to supplement its industrial capacity."

The Supreme Leader paused and spread her hands. "I don't have all the answers, naturally, but it is not difficult to conceive of a situation where one of us has an excess of a resource and the other is willing to pay a fair price for it. But I suppose that's part of what we're here to discuss. If New Imperial policy is autarky, I can certainly respect that."

She leaned back a moment, then inclined her head graciously. "Now, as we get settled in, anyone for drinks? Coffee, tea, something stronger? These gentlemen will take orders." Natasi gestured to the two footmen who had finished setting out the ashtrays and now stood at either side of the table.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall
TF / IGBC // Caulder Dune

 

[Lucien Dooku]

// Drippin'// Avalonia // Dosuun //
// THE_BOYS // FIRST_ORDER //
[S W A N G I N']​

---

---

Diplomacy was admittedly not Lucien's forte. He'd accompanied Tavlar on many an occasion since the founding of the New Imperial Order, but the young Warlord of Nirauan had preferred to delegate his time towards the governance of his world when he was not traversing the frontlines to do battle with the Order's enemies. It was a common sight for Lucien and his companions to enter a theater, and if he so chose to do so, deliver the vengeance of the Order against its enemies with merciless intent. He excelled in that area more often than not, but his hyperfocus on what typically was infront of him did not necessarily mean that he lacked any interest in the fine points of politics.

He was a Son of Serenno through and through, the blood of royalty flowed through his veins, and perhaps that was part of the reason for his appointment to Warlord in the first place. He'd seen the Imperator and the Grand Vizier engage in diplomatic talks plenty of times by then, and he too had done his fair share of politicking within the confines of the Imperial Assembly.

Negotiating with foreign entities, while admittedly not his strong suit, was still an important facet for him to pick up on in the future. In spite of his rebellious nature, Lucien was one of the few who would see the Order into its waning years once the current big-wigs had reached the age of retirement and natural death. As much as he loved being able to sit back and observe, the cold truth was that eventually it'd be his turn to lead from the front in this kind of proceedings.

But luckily for him, that time was not now.

With the two most powerful men in the Empire at the helm, Lucien was afforded the opportunity to remain quiet and observant, one ear open to the meeting whilst the other remained entranced in the music that a tiny bud delivered into his ear. Some found it difficult to balance out two conflicting sounds, but Luc was more or less able to keep up with the general tone of things to the point that his distracted nature was mostly unobtrusive to the conversation around him. He allowed his eyes to follow the voices in the room in spite of the faint nodding of his head which went along with the melodious beat dividing his attention span.

Eventually his eyes had settled away from the two old men seated near him, shifting away from the Grand Moff of the First Order until they curiously settled upon the woman who berated Djorn Bline near the beginning of their meeting. She introduced herself as a Moff, and this woman known as Ariel Yvarro had piqued his interest with her brazen display of authority that aimed to put the Compnor hound in his place. A devilish grin came to rest on his face as he peered in her direction, just as brazenly open as her previous display of authority from earlier. There was something about a beautiful woman with a fierce attitude that proved to be an appealing prospect for a Warlord who commonly refused to hold his tongue to others.

He'd battled the propagandists of Compnor on more than enough occasions within the Assembly. Even as the leaders of their respective entities began to fill the air with their dialogue, his eyes remained set upon peering out her features, all the while waiting for the moment where their eyes could finally meet out in the open. Soon enough the conversation between Natasi Fortan and Irveric Tavlar had drowned itself into the background, his attention fully shifting between the melody in his right, and the woman now settled into his sights.

A fine scenario indeed, until Natasi addressed the others in the room, prompting the Exiled Prince to rouse forwards in his chair with two fingers directed at one of the footman. His equal within the First Order would still find herself the target of his eyes, devilish grin and all aimed at catching her attention sooner than later. "Brandy- Vasarian, if you have it. A favored spirit of Serenno's nobility~" Luc called out. "..And a second glass for my esteemed equal, Lady Yvarro."

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN

Being in a scenario like this for the first, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he didn’t have the proper etiquette to demonstrate to the First Order Imperials. He was more used to the atmosphere of the Imperial Assembly, able to “be himself” without having to put a filter on. Probably the main reason why he despised foreign affairs; everyone had to act a certain way that wasn’t themselves. Was it bad intent of him to address Natasi incorrectly before everyone else? He didn’t believe so, he just didn’t give much a damn about regal titles.

And so he coiled when address by Moff Yvarro by his choice of words. His head turned towards her, observing her from his shades. She was the first from her peers to speak up after his dialogue, and without any hesitation. It told him she cared zealous loyalty towards the Supreme Leader, maybe a close friend too? The former was certain, he had no idea about the latter assumption he made. He would’ve made another comment that wasn’t minced and dived before he saw the Boss’ subtle gaze meant at his direction. No emotion in it, but the gaze was long enough to understand what it meant.

Instead of giving a name, his eyes fell off from Ariel and gave his attention to the conversation carried by Irveric, Tyrell, and Natasi. Certainly Tyrell was more refined in this talent more than anyone from the New Imperials, truth be told.

“A glass of cognac,” he briefly said to the footmen, a suitable drink to match the cigar in his fingers. His ears did perk up on Lucien’s words as the noble made the move on not just having a glass of brandy for himself, but also to the same woman from earlier. Interesting. Making new friends? The Warlord was already on his and Jaeger’s watch, his liberal values against the agendas of COMPNOR.

For now he’d observe, while still maintaining focus on the discourse between Imperials.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus |
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
TF / IGBC // Caulder Dune

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

​

Ariel's attention was drawn toward the man who hailed from Serenno. She not only caught his devilish grin but listened as he requested a drink be sent her way. Kriff. She thought, day drinking at a diplomatic summit? Ariel was only grateful that her pedigree lent itself to being able to handle herself with alcohol. A nod of gratitude and acknowledgment, and as the waiter leaned in, Ariel decided to repay Sir Dooku's gesture and she whispered that he be sent a glass of Galidraani Scotch. "As a thank you to Sir Dooku, Scotch Thames. A testament to Galidraan's aristocracy, and one for myself, thank you."​

​

The diplomatic exchange between the Supreme Leader and the more esteemed members of the New Imperial Order's delegation. Then again not all of them had spoken and she suspected that they may just remain quiet for the duration of the meeting. A small, sly smirk escaped Ariel as she appeared to have had a stolen glance from Dooku. That grin of his coupled with those blue-grey eyes and Ariel at the very least found a distraction for herself. She could be content with simply looking at the man for the duration of the summit.​

​

Then again, she was supposed to be an active member of the so-called senior First Imperial officials. She listened to how Supreme Leader Fortan replied to both the Sovereign Imperator and to Paxxus. Ariel's smile only widened as she turned her head ever so slightly. There was something of adoration in her gaze for the Supreme Leader, and certainly a familial one at that. In the back of her mind the woman wondered just how far the discussions between the two Imperialist nations would go. On the one hand, the Sovereign Imperator made a very valid point - on the other, the First Order could scarcely afford to take any actions. Good or bad in such haste, thought must be given and applied to everything they do.​

​

The presence of a member of the Trade Federation/InterGalacticBankingClan did leave Ariel to wonder if they could press for more private discussions with them once the summit had concluded.​

​

FO: Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Matma Bernu | Gotz Redwall | Vidia Vudrirn | Natasi Fortan
NIO: Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus
TF/IGBC: Caulder Dune ​

​

​

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

G R A N D _ V I Z I E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN

"Cognac. Arkanian, if you have it. On the rocks, please." Cognac on the rocks would probably sound like sacrilege to some. It wasn't exactly an aperitif, but Tyrell knew what he liked. It around this time that he noticed Bline and Tavlar's cigarra. Suppose his perceived gesture of politeness; putting his own out at the door was unnecessary. Reaching into his jacket, Tyrell retrieved the white cylinder from an inner pocket. Lips seized the vice, free hand retrieved an igniter before relighting the blackened tip.

Wisps of carcinogenic vapors escaped between sightly parted lips. With a small nod of thanks, Tyrell took the drink as it was brought to him. It wasn't an Arkanian, he could tell by the color. This was no surprise, given the relative infancy of the Resurgent First Order. Through no fault of their own, the proper trade avenues had yet come to fruition to facilitate such a procurement. However- Tyrell took a sip. -it was far from a shabby spirit.

"The First Order is positioned as precariously as the New Imperial Order, surrounded by neighbors of nebulous intent or even...inevitable enemies. ​

"As you've said, Supreme Leader Fortan, technology as effectively shrunk the galaxy. The Confederacy is practically on your doorstep despite the objective proximity. Their, ah-" The Grand Vizier paused, thinking of the right words. "Ironic disdain for Imperial philosophy is bound to create friction. Given the speed of their expansion, there'll be abrading at your respective galactic edges before you know it."

"With inevitabilities like that, it's always good to have some support, no?"

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Caulder Dune
FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Arador Terrix | Matma Bernu | Gotz Redwall | Vidia Vudrirn | Renata Westaway

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN

With the waiting staff shuffled into the conference room to act on the behest of these statesmen and women Tavlar obliged only by striking another cigar to life, bringing it to his lips with a deep draw of the scented and sweetened herbs. Motioning one of the service staff over to him with a faint wave of the hand, he spoke in a hushed tone to make his request.

"Coffee should do just fine." Tavlar requested. Such was the after wind of a journey across the Galaxy in anticipation of this summit all the while the New Imperial High Command tangled with rising tensions in the Galactic Alliance, several proxy groups outside its borders and a waning war with the Sith Empire. Rest was at a premium.

Before the man had a chance to walk off, Tavlar stopped him for another request.

"My delegation brought with it a bottle of Merenzane Gold, label should be in Muun. A glass for the Supreme Leader if you would. Give my thanks to the rest of the staff as well for the hospitality of Avalonia." Tavlar requested. One of the more expensive liquors that could be come across in the Galaxy, not that it was either of the two governments that had to foot the bill, being that it was a trophy claimed from one of the Sith Imperial Banking Clan vaults on Harnaidan. A collateral investment.

And now, a gift.

To the talks of peace, the old Galactic Alliance, Irveric nodded once more as he sucked more of the sweet smoke into his lungs, offering a brief exhale as his metallic digits drew the cigar from his lips.

"Of that you're right. Peace should be the final aim in any circumstance. The First Order knows too well that the fallen are the only ones to truly see war's end. Just as my people have had their mettle tested in our existential fight. But so long as this sickening duality between 'Light' and 'Darkness' preaches its great lie to the Galaxy, there will be no lasting peace, unfortunately. The First Order has been through the fire time and time again, there is nothing I could possibly impart on you of the matters of governance that a woman such as yourself does not know already." He states to his counterpart across from him, only for his attention to shift to Paxxus as he spoke, utilizing the spare moment to pull in another draw from his cigar, letting the smoke ease from his lips before speaking up once more.

"The Grand Vizier speaks the truth and while I shall iterate that the self sufficiency of the New Imperial Order is the ideal scenario, given the precarious relationship we have with all our closest neighbors, it is a nigh impossible aim. We occupy only a slice of this Galaxy. And a perilous one at that. Establishing a foundation of trade between our two states should no doubt prove fruitful. The Unknown Regions is largely undeveloped to the Galactic north of where the extent of the First Order's historic bounds of control ends. But- in a showing of Imperial collaboration, no doubt we could lay the infrastructure for trade from Bastion to Dosuun and pave a golden path between. The Outer Planets Alliance and the Galactic Alliance were able to carve the Starbird Trade Spine in order to evade the Confederacy, no doubt we could construct similar, reap the untapped wealth of the Unknown Regions as we siphon capital to our respective states. So long as it is beneficial at both ends of this trade line, it carries a boundless potential." Tavlar proposes broadly.

NIO // Tyrell Paxxus | Jaeger Harrsk | Lucien Dooku | Djorn Bline
FO // Ariel Yvarro | Natasi Fortan | Vidia Vudrirn | Matma Bernu | Arador Terrix | Gotz Redwall
$$ // Caulder Dune

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's dark gaze didn't miss a beat, nor did her newfound Force connection leave her blind to Ariel's inconsistent attentions. She said nothing in the moment, though she did feel her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. This could also have been in sheer envy at watching her counterpart indulge himself in a cigar. The Supreme Leader had once enjoyed a cigarette; the sensation of the sweet smoke filling her lungs, touching all the pleasure receptors it could, was one of the most comforting sensations there was. But they were a vice, and she must not be seen to have vices. She was the Supreme Leader, the personification of the virtues of the First Order, as much of a drag as that could be some days.

Too bad, she mused, smirking at the tendrils of smoke rising from Tavlar's cigar.

"You are very kind," Natasi said, bowing her head slightly in response to his offer of a drink and compliments of Avalonia's hospitality. "I will surely pass along your kind words to our staff." The Supreme Leader crossed her ankles, shifting in her seat placidly. A few moments later, the footmen returned with a salver upon which sat a small tumbler of rich amber liquid on her side, and freshly brewed coffee on Tavlar's side. Natasi took the drink from the tray and took an experimental quaff from the glass, swirling the liquid in the glass. "It's been awhile," she confessed wryly before lifting the glass in salute. "Your good health, Sovereign Imperator."

She lifted the glass to her lips. The expensive liquor burned down the Supreme Leader's throat, excruciating and exquisite in equal measure. She set the glass down again before her, enjoying the woody aroma of the liquor. "Dosuun was once the capital of the largest superpower in the galaxy and, in that time, one achievement that eluded me was to create a hyperlane that befitted its status. A backwater it may once have been, Dosuun really ought to have a direct connection to the economies in the rest of the galaxy. So, I would be inclined to support such an effort. I will defer to my Moff Council on the logistical matters. Moff Yvarro, your thoughts?"

​

FO: Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Matma Bernu | Gotz Redwall | Vidia Vudrirn | Natasi Fortan ​

NIO: Irveric Tavlar | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus ​

TF/IGBC: Caulder Dune ​

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

C O M P N O R
A V A L O N I A | D O S U U N

"Coffee. Black." Jaeger addressed the server taking the orders. From the wealth of choices, some he probably could never experience except this side of the galaxy, the commissioner remained true to his austerity. That, and the jet lag. It was night back on Bastion. His reserved nature caved in when the whole New Imperial troupe lit rolls of nicotine. He welcomed the pungent fumes and felt just a tad bit more at home.

While the rest of the New Imperials committed to their own points of discussions, Jaeger's attention fell on none other than Moff Westaway. The First Order's foreign minister. That was as much as he knew about the enigmatic, one eyed lady from the short debrief beforehand and the actual exchange of introductions a moment earlier. He accepted the coffee with a curt nod, took a sip and gestured at the Foreign Minister.

"Moff Westaway." he called out, then "this side of the Outer Rim looks like it might be headed to a war of partitioning after the Coalition's collapse..."

A quick drag of his cigarette.

"A lot of claims, old and new; you've had any first contact with the Big Purple?" he clearly referred to the ever-spreading Confederates.

NIO // Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline
FO // Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Renata Westaway | Arador Terrix | Vidia Vudrirn | Gotz Redwall | Matma Bernu
TF // Caulder Dune