Faction In Her Name

[Resurgent Narrative]

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Remembrance Week.

A somber week, a week where those who survived the Fall of Dosuun look back and remember the fallen. The men and women who gave their lives so that others could live. Not all of them did so because it was the right thing to do, some had no choice at all in the matter.​

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Flags around Dosuun and throughout the First Order were lowered to half-mast. Those who had survived the Fall told their stories, and the ones who had not - had their stories told for them. The names of the dead were read, and the bells tolled throughout the week to signify various events that had occurred during the fall.​

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Military ceremonies and drills held in the honor of the dead were shown as well. Wreaths were laid in the National Cemetery at Victoria, and perhaps the most poignant event had yet to come. It would be the very day in which the late Grand Moff Natasi Fortan had sacrificed the FIV Concordia, the flagship of the First Order, as well as her very own life. Knowing full well that her sacrifice would buy her people time - time to survive, time to run, and time to live.​

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This ceremony was to be held outside Remembrance Fields on the outskirts of Avalonia where the countryside just brushed against the city. A field of red poppies, it measured four hundred by six hundred meters. Markers along the footpath, iron posted lamps, and the central figure - a statue dedicated to Natasi Fortan. There she stands beside her cousin Pierce, and her friend Sioux Chambers. It is perhaps the most sacred part of the capital.​

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Here, on the clearest of nights, it’s almost as if you can hear the footsteps of those who were lost.​

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And on this morning, a cloudy grey mid-year morning where the temperatures were unusually cold, the wind gusted higher than normal. The mood across those in attendance was one of respect, and one of reverence. ​

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A small raised platform held the Moff Council and invited guests. The First Imperial Army’s Choral had only just sung I Vow To Thee My Country. A silence fell over them as they looked over at the crowd before filing off the platform, to stand in formation as the ceremonies continued.​

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Renata Westaway | Isobel Nakano | Masayu Kimura | Cyrus Tregessar | Ryker Atreides | Bellam Malhan | Kassandra Distorith | Kurayami Bloodborn | DG-4582 | FN-93263 "Ravage" | Odesia Ursa | Isobel Mattis | Grayson Mattis | Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex | Alessandra Creed | Madelyn Lowe | Otzdrava Velexia | Jaivant | Jihun Kim | Zole | Firenne Van-Derveld | Varick Lechner | Arador Terrix | Drexel Quinn | Fevris Derzelas | Matma Bernu | John Locke | Nylea Apollodor | Taeli Raaf

Spoiler: OOC Note

The Fall of Dosuun is recorded as 856 ABY - First Order is in 862 ABY. Any questions may be directed at First Order staff.

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[Renata Westaway]

Renata was of two minds when it came to the dead-worship that was so prevalent in the First Order these days. The constant memorializing, the deitfication, the annual rituals — though this was Renata's first, having been liberated from the underground prison only several months prior, they had brought her up to speed on Remembrance Week in short order. They could be such a psychic drain, and Renata was the first to admit that though she mourned for the friends and family lost in the sack of Dosuun, she found it difficult to engage with grief on a corporate level.

On the other hand, the First Order only worked when there was a unifying force behind it. In the old days that had been Sieger Ren and Natasi Fortan and the heroes of the Order: Graush and Amsel and Creed and Chambers and Rausgeber. They were all gone now, dead or missing, or moved on to the next thing. Renata knew her strengths and her weaknesses. She was no Fortan, no Ren. None of them were. They hadn't the history or the loyalty of the people. In the absence of heroes, only their shared history was there to unite them — shared history and grief.

So she looked the part, her Moff's uniform pristine, a matching Moff's coat draped over her shoulders, her features suitably arranged in a mask of somber reflection. She wasn't sure she was going to bring the coat, but was glad that she did. It was unusually cold, and the air felt pregnant with significance, significance beyond the stoic remembrance of the war dead. Something's coming, she thought to herself, over and over again like a drumbeat in her mind. Something's coming... but what?

Renata glanced sidelong at her fellow Moffs. Today must have been especially hard on Moff Yvarro, she thought. It was Yvarro's cousin celebrated and grieved for most today. Natasi Fortan's actions during the sack had been no less than legendary, even a skeptic like Renata had to admit. She understood that Yvarro had spent some amount of time with Fortan. If anyone had a personal stake in the grief, it was Ariel. On a lark, Renata placed a hand on Ariel's forearm and squeezed encouragingly.

As the tones of 'I Vow to Thee, My Country' faded into silence, even a skeptic like Renata had to swallow around a painful lump in her throat. That was her queue. She rose, approached the single microphone erected on the dais, its only adornment a poppy wreath. Renata's remarks were simple and brief; this wasn't a time for political pontifications and she felt that less was truly more. Besides, they were rapidly approaching the hour, so she kept her remarks to the point. "Good morning," she said, and her gruff voice was carried out over the field but also across the First Order, on holo and radio broadcasts, in homes and squares and pubs.

"Most of us knew someone who was lost in the Fall. My fiance was killed in the fighting here in Avalonia. Most of us have that story: parents or children, partners or friends, colleagues or neighbors. And if we don't have them, we all know someone who does. There is not one of us who is far separated from the tragedy of those terrible days." She cleared her throat and soldiered on: "It is a terrible burden, not just the grief of loss, but the guilt of survival. I'm the first to acknowledge that I survived quite by accident, by being in the right place at the right time. I have a difficult time reconciling that with the loss of so many others, people braver and smarter and better than me."

Renata leaned back, clearing her throat again, surprised with herself at her own emotional response to the words she had rehearsed so many times just to avoid such an embarrassing situation. But here, in front of all these people, among the poppies, she was very nearly overcome. "That is what Remembrance Week is for. To remember those we have lost, and to acknowledge those who laid themselves down so that we could live. Because most of us have that story, too. The story of the soldier who stood in front of an attack or a naval officer who took fire so that our ships could escape or a neighbor who fed and sheltered us in the darkest of times."

She inhaled shakily and went on. "But there was one more sacrifice that we must remember. Natasi Fortan was called the Mother of the Nation, but the vast majority of us never met her, never laid eyes on her outside a holoprojector or flyer. She didn't know us and never learned our names, but her actions which we will mark not long from now saved millions of us. Whether you were here on Dosuun or elsewhere in the empire, the Grand Moff's actions allowed civilian ships to evacuate, allowed allied ships to enter the system for defense, and decimated the enemy forces, sending them into disarray so that the people of Dosuun could reach defensible positions. Think of this in moments of difficulty and trial, that the actions of one may well save the lives of millions. If the greatest of us, the head of our government, can make such a sacrifice, surely it is not too much to ask of each of us. Honor the sacrifices of our friends, our neighbors, and our leaders by being prepared to make the same sacrifice for our family and friends but also for our neighbors and fellow citizens we may never meet. Now, please join me in a moment of silent reflection."

She stepped back from the microphone for a moment, then raised her gaze, nodded and returned to her seat.

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

Six years ago there wasn't an Avalonia or much of a Dosuun. The Ssi-Ruuvi were quick and many fell in the opening moments of the battle, thousands if not millions had been caught unaware. Elisea was just one of those who were able to escape due to the bravery possessed by the men and women in the armed forces. She sat in one of the many chairs around the poppies, Nylea Apollodor beside her as they observed and on occasion participated in the ceremony. It was hard to get through the lyrics of 'I Vow to Thee, My Country,' harder still as she sat and watched Moff Westaway speak.​

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Throughout it all, Elisea couldn't help but think back to the fire, the smoke, and the sheer chaos that consumed Dosuun. Likely, had consumed more than just Dosuun as system by system, and planet by planet the First Order fell. Brought down to her knees and the once empire of the Unknown Regions had collapsed. She squeezed Nylea's hand, she needed to know that she was here in the present and not rushing civilians into a ship hoping they would make it to orbit, hoping they would find some way out of hell's grasp.​

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The words that the Moff spoke were heartfelt, true, and sincere - they struck an accord with the crowd present. The whispers of the wind as it brushed through the flag poles, Elisea looked up at the half-mast flag and then over at Nylea and gave her a sad but reassuring smile. The day and the hour, the moment of the Grand Moff's sacrifice drew closer now. It was a moment that bought many, including Elisea, time to escape.​

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[Nylea Apollodor]

Nylea felt uncomfortable. Everywhere she looked, everything she saw, all of it told her she didn't belong here. From the military presence to the statue of the late Natasi Fortan, it all spoke of a level of reverence that was unsettling to the echani. She was a Jedi, not an imperial- though she knew better than to make that obvious- and that left more than a little nervous. Yet, still, she was here. She was by Elisea's side, she was there for her. Her own discomfort didn't hold a candle to the Avalonian's needs.

Despite the feeling she didn't belong here, Nylea still empathized with those who had gathered here. They had all lost friends, loved ones, and so much more. The nearly palpable grief that hung in the cold air reminded her of her own loss, of the Mandalorian genocide of Eshan. Her family was one of many that didn't survive. There wasn't even anything left of the small city she had grown up in. She missed them, and their absence would forever leave a hole in her heart.

The squeezing of her hand broke through the bad memories of walking through the rubble, of realizing her family was gone. Nylea gave a gentle squeeze back, turning her head towards Elisea as she continued watching at the moff giving her speech. Eventually the Avalonian looked at her and gave her a solemn smile, which Nylea returned with a slight nod. Elisea had been in the middle of everything and it clearly left a big impact, so the least Nylea could do was be there for her today.

Elisea Korrado ​

 

[Matma Bernu]

I'm surprised I was able to attend the memorial for the Grand Moff- I'd been called upon to act as a security presence for many of the Remembrance Week events. I can only assume Remembrance Field was easy enough to secure without any Knight personnel.

Nonetheless, I was able to attend the memorial with the family. The girls, Theresa (17), Cecilia (16), and Ava (13)- just about the age where they didn't want to be around me and Wylla- had picked up on the solemnity of the event as we walked toward the Remembrance Field. It was important to both of us that they understood that this was their new home, and how fortuitous in how we came here.

Csilla was swept up in the consequences of the Fall by proxy. When the First Order fell, a power vacuum opened in the Unknown Regions. The Ssi-Ruuvi, the Jenaa'ri, and the Sith trampled through the Ascendency. The Defense Fleet was routed, and we barely escaped Csilla. However, while I came to Dosuun as a slave, Wylla chose the First Order. As we listened to Moff Renata's speech, I squeezed Wylla's hand. Listening with rapt attention, she glanced at me quizzically before returning her attention to the speech. My thoughts drifted as I reminisced.

When we reunited as a family, I asked her why she chose to start a new life for our family on Dosuun of all places. "Because I wanted the best life for our family", she said shortly. Looking at my incredulous expression, she sighed and elaborated.

"When we ran...I thought I'd lost everything. You. Your parents. My parents. The Ascendency had fallen. All we had was what we had to carry on our backs when the Sith came...", She trailed off. "We didn't have too many options. I knew under no circumstances we would live under the Sith, or Jedi, or anything to do with any Force Users. The New Imperial Order hadn't outlawed slavery, and only the Gods knew what would happen to a unaccompanied Chiss woman, with vulnerable Chiss girls. We didn't have money for passage all the way to Coruscant, so the Alliance was out of the question."

"But what made me choose for us to go to Dosuun was a story I heard- the story of Natasi Fortan. How a woman not only became a Grand Moff, but sacrificed it all for her people to live another day. I wanted to live somewhere where the girls could grow up with the opportunity to be like her- somebody brave, and strong, and selfless. I think a lot of us on felt that way, honestly. Somedays, it's the only thing that kept us going."

As Moff Renata concluded, I turned and kissed my wife above her brow in a distinctly un-Chiss like fashion. The kids made mock-gagging noises. Wylla rolled her eyes and leaned into me. I looked at the statue of Grand Moff Fortan and thought of the last five years. There had been so much upheaval- we had lost our home, our families, had our lives pulled out from under us. Yet, we were together. Thriving. My wife had found purpose as a community activist, advocating for the refugee community. The girls found their footing, and were flourishing in school.

Natasi Fortan's sacrifice didn't just give the First Order a chance to survive- for many of us who lost our worlds during the Fall, it gave us a second chance.

 

[Fevris Derzelas]

Fevris was not one prone to much emotion. Feelings were not her area of expertise, but then maybe they were. It was days like these in which she remembered that just like for everybody else, there were forces that moved her well beyond the realm of her thoughts and calculations. Grief, out of all of them, was one of the most powerful.

She had been young during the Fall of Dosuun, barely young enough to not be able to be alongside those whose souls now rested, represented on every petal of every flower in the Remembrance Field. That had not stopped her from doing what she could, using her knowledge - far lesser than the one she now held - to mend the broken bodies of those who managed to make it back from every battle. But if there was one truth in war, was that not everyone would make it back.

Such had been the fate of her own father, one of the many men and women of the navy who had died buying time for the people of the First Order. At first, even though the pain of any daughter had pierced her heart, she had not felt true sorrow. Her father had died in the only way he would have found it acceptable, protecting others right down to his last breath. Then a second blow would come, when her mother returned injured beyond anyone's ability to heal.

The doctors had managed to keep her alive, but still to this day her eyes remained closed. Laying in a hospital bed, a medal of valor she never got to see with her own eyes awaiting on the nightstand. It had been so long since Fevris had last heard her voice that even during her visits it sometimes felt as though she was as far away as her father. But if she knew one thing, is that neither of them would have wanted her to shed tears. The task was easier said than done, when there were so many petals, in so many red flowers surrounding her.

So she stood slightly away from the thick of the crowds, clad in dark clothing and with an expression that would have sent a message of composure and resilience, if it weren't for the deep sorrow and reverence that clouded her blue eyes. It did nothing but increase as Moff Westaway reached the end of her speech and her gaze fell on the statue of Natasi Fortan. The Mother of the Nation had made the ultimate sacrifice, the only sacrifice that had ensured that all other lives had not been lost in vain.

One lived in hopes of being remembered, for to be remembered was not to die. Grand Moff Fortan, her father, and all those who had laid their lives down would live on in the memory and the heart, in each new breath taken and each new laugh, in every work and every effort of the reborn First Order and all who had the pride of being its citizens. And this, was the greatest honor they could offer them.

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

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Ariel sat with her hands on her lap, the thoughts on this day of all days were quite heavy. Her Moff's uniform felt tighter than they actually were, she mirrored Moff Westaway's somber look. The tones of 'I Vow to Thee, My Country' had faded and as they did the young woman couldn't help but feel the swell of emotion. She shut her eyes momentarily and recalled the horrific images that she saw - the images as they streamed on the holonet. The deaths of thousands as thousands more stood up to fight. Fight for the First Order, fight for the lives of their brothers and sisters, their mothers and fathers - family, friends all of them. ​

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She didn't catch Westaway's sidelong glance, instead, her eyes looked distant, distracted by memories of that awful day. That awful week and the terrible days that came after it. Ariel's world had been turned upside down, and while she hadn't caught the Moff's look - Ariel did feel the woman's reassurance with a gesture. The younger of the two women looked up and seemed somewhat lost. Renata had moved away by that point she stood at the podium and began her speech. Ariel's mind was clouded - she should know something, she knew something was going to happen but what it was she didn't know and for her part.​

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Her mind had been blocked, manipulated by another in the crowd. It was a subtle flicker, but one meant to aid the young woman on this day. She listened to Moff Westaway's words. She listened as the woman spoke from her own personal experience, the grief of loss, the guilt of survival a burden that perhaps many within attendance, and indeed those who watched and listened on the holo and radio, might share. Many had perished on that awful day and many more perished in the days that came. This Remembrance Week was only the first, but even so all around them, the poppies were a staunch reminder of the blood that was paid.​

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The lives that were lost.​

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She took in a deep breath and exhaled, doing her best to not cry when Natasi was mentioned. Yet, Ariel could not help it - she shed the tears anyway, her lips quivered and quickly she put her hand over her mouth. The wave of emotion was almost too much, she had to get it together - it's what Natasi would have wanted. So she steeled herself and collected her tears this time she would breathe through the emotion rather than give in to the instinct to cry. Grand Moff Natasi Fortan , the Mother of the Nation - By Her Command, it was often said and all she could think of were the hours before her cousin's death.​

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Ariel's hand had fallen away from her mouth and laid flat on her lap as she did her best to once more not to give in to the emotions that threatened tears once more. She was grateful for the moment of silence, a moment of reflection - respite, a chance for her to gather herself once more. Quietly she rose to her feet, she took out scrap paper where she had jotted down her notes. Shakily she held them and approached the podium and gave a quiet thank you to Renata. She looked the woman in the eyes and thanked her - perhaps the most genuine of words she had yet to speak that day.​

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"Six years ago, Grand Moff Natasi Fortan and the crew of the F.I.V. Concordia stood with the might of the First Imperial Navy against the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium. She stood her ground, she fought pound per pound, shot per shot against numerous enemies, against those who wished the citizens of Dosuun and that of the First Order harm. Our Grand Moff, knew the risks of taking to the void - but it was better than remaining on the ground. She was always a pragmatic woman, a woman who would do what was necessary."​

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Ariel took a moment and drew a deep breath and exhaled, she looked out over the crowd once more felt the swell of emotion. Her words faltered as she continued to read from her notes. "The Grand Moff made a decision, a decision that would save countless lives - and buy many within the realm time to escape, time for our allies to come to our aid." Ariel put her hands on the podium and it was clear, this was perhaps, one of the hardest speeches she had to give. "As we draw near to the very hour, and the very moment of her sacrifice. Let us all remember the Grand Moff as she was, a woman who always had a clear vision of what she wanted not just for herself but for her nation. A woman who served our nation to the fullest. Natasi Fortan may have started as a governor but it was her intellect, wit, and grace that carried her to the title of Grand Moff."​

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The clouds seemed to darken above, and the wind crew slightly colder.​

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"In her death there was life, and in her sacrifice there was hope, and with her, there was the First Order. Join me now, as we remember her, Grand Moff Natasi Josephine Fortan. Mother of the First Order. To whom we all owe a great debt, to whom we hope that by our resurgence, our renewal, and our lives are able to carry her legacy. For it is in her name that we vow to our country, a love that never falters, a love that pays the price, that makes undaunted the final sacrifice."​

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Matma Bernu | Fevris Derzelas | Nylea Apollodor | Taeli Raaf | Ryker Atreides | Grayson Mattis | Isobel Mattis | Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex | Alessandra Creed | Valessia Brentioch | Madelyn Lowe | Otzdrava Velexia | Zole | Varick Lechner | Firenne Van-Derveld | Arador Terrix | Jaivant | Jihun Kim | Drexel Quinn | Cyrus Tregessar | Masayu Kimura | DG-4582 | Bellam Malhan | Renata Westaway | Kassandra Distorith ​

 

[Kassandra Distorith]

...beneath gathering clouds and clashes of thunder...​

She remembered the reports of Dosuun falling. Tucked away in seclusion at her estate on Dantooine, the news had been slow to reach her, but eventually the floodgates had opened. It had been a staggering assault that culminated in the ultimate sacrifice that saved millions. It was a clear memory of how she had stumbled back against a chair, needing the physical assistance to stand as she opened her senses to the Force. The backlash was intense - multiple, numerous ripples of energy seething with death and life alike.

It had made her thankful that her abilities did not trend far to the esoteric side, because the migraine it did level at her had been vicious enough.

Blinking briefly, Kassandra snapped back to the present moment, tucked off at the edge of the field in a small copse of trees, out of sight of both those seated for the ceremony and those deemed important enough to be on the platform. Canting her head to the left, she met the gaze of the tall gentleman draped in somber black, an altered version of the standard uniform of the Imperial Knights.

"That is our cue...let us begin.” she said softly, her voice shifting from its usual warmth to something -other- even in that brief span, while her eyes shifted to fathomless black.

He nodded, a touch glassy-eyed, and placed a hand on her shoulder, covered as it was in a tailored vinesilk coat. It was but a moment before he extended a metaphorical hand through the Force which she grasped firmly with one of her own. The warmth and steadiness of his connection to the Force served to mask the depths of darkness she would need to plumb in order to do this with the proper level of finesse that such an august moment deserved.

The weather manipulation had been nearly effortless, as the clouds had begun to gather on their own earlier in the morning. The wind was cold and the skies were grey, adding to the already somber atmosphere of the Day of Remembrance. She simply nudged the gathering storm into motion, diverting the energy from rain into a pure thunderstorm of epic proportions.

The clouds turned black overhead, leaving Remembrance Field shrouded in shadows, earning gasps from some of those in the crowd. Her hands outstretched, she raised them as the thunder intensified, the sound clashing violently as if the very earth itself was about to split open. The wind whipped and for a split second, it seemed as if time might have tried to stand still.

Kassandra closed her hands into fists and swiftly moved her hands downward, pulling a gargantuan lightning bolt of pure white light out of the pitch black epicenter of the clouds. It crashed to the ground at the foot of Natasi’s statue in a sheer flood of energy and sparks that would leave the spot charred for a very long time. She pulled the energy back, narrowly avoiding starting a fire, and hissed quietly as her fingers began to burn with the effort, skin charring and peeling just as the ground itself did.

Amidst the burst of energy and light, a figure appeared, floating in the midst of the still arcing lightning. Even as it began to lessen in brightness and intensity, the arcs still supported and wound around the figure like a comforting cocoon. With a delicate, unpronouncably ancient word from the lips of the Lordess, the figure finally resolved into that of one Natasi Josephine Fortan.

Not an apparition, not a hologram, but the very woman herself, restored.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

As the Dark Councilor for Galactic Influence within the Sith Empire, Taeli had made it a point to be on hand for diplomatic functions and this one was certainly more... personal than others. Ariel had been striving to rebuild the First Order, and as her stepmother, it had only been prudent to help the young woman along however she needed it. Natasi had been family, well married family, and they hadn't interacted much before her untimely demise except for when she had been undercover with the Jedi and Alliance.

She kept to the diplomatic sidelines along with the small retinue of Sith and bureaucrats she had brought along from the Diplomatic Services as speeches were made, watching Ariel deliver her address, glancing up at the darkening sky. It had been drilled into her by her stepdaughter over and over again. Act surprised.

The Force hung heavy with the preparations of the ritual, for the big flashy entrance. Spectical for the masses, but it would be very effective all the same. She approved as the energy was unleashed, all light and sound, all at the perfect time to reveal the form of Natasi Fortan herself. Transcended death and all to return to her beloved nation.

She could hear the propaganda films already being planned. On cue, she plastered a look of utmost shock upon her face to match those of her retinue.

Ariel Yvarro Kassandra Distorith Renata Westaway

 

[Natasi Fortan]

A flash of blinding white light illuminated the field, washing everyone and everything in in a hundred meters in bright light.

Natasi was there, clothed in a simple white dress, quite unlike anything she had ever worn in public before. Her hair was down, flowing in gentle waves and curls around her shoulders, again quite unlike the people had ever seen her. Her arms outstretched, palms up, looking perhaps like the angels or goddesses in some ancient religions, but very much in the flesh. This was Natasi reborn. Kassandra Distorith had played her part flawlessly, as Natasi knew that she would. Whatever the woman was being paid, I should double it. This brought a faint smile to a face that was otherwise serene and blank. She basked in the sensation of shock and fear and even realization and pleasure that she could feel through her newfound abilities in the Force and their audible cues.

She opened her eyes; a drone floated a meter away, inquisitive. Her eyes looked past it, to the sea of people that went as far as her vision would allow. The presence of so many and their emotions pouring into the Force was equally abrasive and energizing. She let it wash over her as, with the Sith Lordess' help, she slowly descended until her feet touched upon the dais. The drone hovered just over the heads of the people, the blinking red light reminding her that her reappearance was being broadcast across multiple worlds, perhaps even across the galaxy. The screens across Avalonia and the rest of the First Order went live to the feed from the drone, which was staring at her as expectantly as the people in the crowd who looked up from the ground, some in stunned silence and others in excited, disbelieving murmurs, waiting for some kind of explanation.

Natasi would oblige them.

She spoke easily, with sincerity, never once acknowledging the presence of the microphone or podium before her. She didn't need it for support or for emphasis or theatrics. The crowd was already rapt. "Citizens of the First Order," she began, and a hush fell over those who had been chattering anxiously. "There is no cause for alarm. Your eyes do not deceive you. I stand before you, Natasi Fortan, reborn from death itself. In the Netherworld, I felt the need of my people. Before my death I was called the Mother of the Nation, and like any good mother, I could not ignore the needs of my people."

She looked left, then right, as if doing so for the first time. The performer in Natasi drank in the attention and energy of the crowd. "You who have kept faith with the First Order, with my memory, have nothing to fear for me. I have returned to bring peace and justice to our people. Only those who oppose such worthy goals need fear."

A paused as she looked out over the crowd, as if looking to the very last row, further than her human eyes could see. "For now, I must confer with the leaders of the First Order, but I want to say it now so that it is clear, clear to you, to our friends, as well as to our enemies. There is nothing that will keep me from serving and protecting you, my people. Not the Ssi-Ruuk. Not death itself. Nothing will stop me. For those loyal to the Order, take this as a comfort. I have conquered death itself; there is nothing in this galaxy that will stop me now. Let us remember those lost, but also take today to remember that through strength and service, faith and fellowship, even death and defeat are not permanent. Together, we will rise."

The crowd was silent at first, then applause started in isolated pockets before spreading through the crowd. Natasi raised her arms, a metaphorical embrace of the crowd, before turning and taking the few steps to where her cousin sat, her face a reasonable approximation of the shock she should have been feeling. Natasi, aware of the drone camera swooping low, embraced Ariel, whispering comforting greetings to the younger half-Galidraani woman. She was vaguely aware of the fervent mutterings of the woman to Ariel's left, who upon being approached by the drone, took a swing at it with her handbag before marching off the dais, still barking orders into her comlink.

The crowd didn't seem to know what to make of it. Some surged forward, calling her name, reaching as if to verify by touch that she was real. Natasi stepped towards the edge of the dais and ran her hand over the sea of raised hands. "Bless you," she murmured to them. "Don't be afraid. I'm here." After a few moments of this, she straightened and turned to Ariel. Now that the drone had toddled off somewhere, she leaned close and said, "Very well done, Ariel. Now the work begins."

Ariel Yvarro | Kassandra Distorith | Matma Bernu | Fevris Derzelas | Nylea Apollodor | Masayu Kimura | Taeli Raaf | Ryker Atreides | Madelyn Lowe | Otzdrava Velexia​

 

[Gunnar Madine]

Military Command Staff Seating | Section 1 A, Seat 13
Lt. Colonel Madine | FOSCG
-​

Too soft. the voice in his back of his mind whispered, a commentary on the plush upholstery of the chairs relegated to the upper ranks of the First Order's military, Moff's, Governors, and the like. He felt like a man out of place, the luxuries of the well to-do foreign indulgences for the career soldier. He looked the part however, trim fitting and polished uniform accoutrements practically painted on. His posture set him apart from the rest, like a toy soldier set neat in a row - a row of the comfortable. The man was a skeptic by nature, religion was just another way to control the masses and fanaticism well... That depended on a good number of things. Religious he was not, though if asked Gunnar might just settle for spiritual. Combat was just that wasn't it? A spiritual undertaking, a war of the body, mind, and soul?

His mental meandering had been interrupted by an abrupt flash, a crack of thunder as a figure materialized in an instant. The apparition of the past - except this was more than mere ghost. the Lt. Colonel had never met the woman but her face was easily recognizable to even the most junior citizens of the First Order. That is Natasi Fortan. The shock was audible, the crowd clearly struck at first by disbelief. The hanging silence did not last long before the woman's voice filled the air, her miraculous appearance from beyond the veil explained in dramatic fashion - as elegant as ever. It was difficult for Gunnar Madine to process what in only a few moments had transpired, one minute they were participating in a memorial to the fallen, to their predecessors. The next, the so called Mother of the Nation, Natasi Josephine Fortan was before them. In. The. Flesh. Instinctualy he suppressed a frown, the veteran skeptic immediately questioning the hows and whys of the miracle.

If there had been any semblance of reverence or order before the brilliant flash of lightning all decorum had now been lost as the crowd undulated with an energy unfelt for nearly a decade. A whisper turned into a buzz, a buzz turned into a roar. Applause and cries of adoration rang and echoed in the air. A momentous occasion indeed. mused the Lt. Colonel. As people began rising to their feet he too would join though markedly silent as he focused his gaze up to where the woman now embraced her cousin. "Intriguing." he uttered, drowned out by the crowd.

Natasi Fortan | Ariel Yvarro | Resurgent Narrative
@ The First Order​

 

[Jaivant]

Low Lays the Devil

Somber mood allayed by the return of a leader.

Though the crowd was moved to raucous applause, amazed and perhaps hopeful at the arrival of a living, breathing, Natasi Fortan , the younger Graush merely watched on with his hands clasped together at his front, face set in an expression that showed his struggle to process the events he was giving witness to. A parallel era, an epoch in the past, was what this had turned out to be - he'd listened to his mother's last words for the second time just the day before, and now he was seeing the return of the First Order's most effective leader. Twice in a week he was lost for words, though this time at least the surprise was a little less painful.

"Marvelous." He said, his voice under his breath, as he watched the scene play out.

His red, pureblood, eyes roamed over the heads of the crowd - he was fortunately blessed with the height of his father, perhaps slightly more - as he tried to pick out any faces that might strike him as familiar. None seemed quite so familiar as those that seemed to be center-stage, but he was sure that there was much he had to learn that could have deviated from what he already knew. He'd already changed some of it, by reaching out to his mother in her final hour, but the extent of which seemed to be far more subtle than he had feared. Those currently in power, or at least with roles of authority, seemed to have remained as such, though already things were beginning to shift - not just here, but abroad.

He attempted a smile, though he seemed a little worse for wear underneath, and raised his brow as he sucked air in through his nose. It was quite the tiresome week indeed, and no crisp suit could help him with that, certainly not the one he'd worn for the occasion. He turned, his back to where the rest of the crowd struggled to reach, and slowly started to walk off as the thought to retire early for the night crept into the back of his mind.

 

[Fevris Derzelas]

Grief is the price of love.

As the clouds gathered like weighty blankets above, the growls of thunder rolling from their darkened domes and cold winds picking up around the crowd, the Doctor looked up at the sky to see the solemnity of her eyes mirrored by it. After Moff Yvarro's speech silence hung heavy in the air, filled with a deep seated sorrow that even her, a woman of practicality and stoicism, could feel without difficulty. Everyone standing here today was the prize in blood and life for those who had fallen, and the Mother of the Nation had stood first among them.

Today was meant to be closure. The balm over a wound that would not heal or know oblivion but which they had to outgrow, to strengthen themselves until its pain was no longer a hindrance, until the grief became purpose and motivation. The very weather itself seemed to want to push them into this path as its gusts of wind sharpened and the thunder became louder and more insistent. Expressions of sorrow were replaced with those of caution and attentiveness, for even to someone as detached from the Force as the Doctor the air now felt unnatural.

And lightning fell.

Fevris' eyes were blinded for a few seconds, the brightness and the energy from the impact rendering all disoriented and lost for a few seconds, a peak of fear rising in the people. Nothing could prepare her, or anyone, for what would transpire in the following moments. As everyone looked for answers around them, to regain the suddenly lost direction, they would find it in the shape of the one they had gathered to honor above all else, living and rising before them not unlike a vision from another, better life. The Mother of the Nation had returned.

Her dark blue eyes widened at the sight, words stuck within her throat as Fevris' mind rushed like it never had before, trying to understand what she was seeing. A miracle, something that escaped the fields she was devout to, the logics she understood. Natasi Josephine Fortan stood among them once more, and it was as if the sorrow itself had been reaped from the people and shaped into devotion and hope as the cheering and the tears, no longer born of grief, began running down their faces.

Fevris knew there had to be an explanation for this, but she could not pretend to not be moved by the display, either out her own deep respect and admiration for the woman that had made the ultimate sacrifice or the sheer shock. Natasi Fortan was back, and because of this the First Order, in this instant, felt more united than ever.

Now grief was purpose.

 

[Matma Bernu]

Watershed moments, in my opinion, are objective events. Events where, decades later, one could recall with perfect accuracy where they were, and what they were doing.

I recall remembering Moff Yvarro concluding her statements, and how the sky blackened. And then I sensed...something gathering. Something almost eldritch. Somebody powerful was here. Somebody powerful enough to twist the Force, to make it bow down and submit.

"Go to the speeder", I said shortly to Wylla. She looked over to me, a witty statement on her lips, before she saw my face. Nodding grimly, she began shepherding the confused girls to the speeder.

I reached out to the Force, trying to feel who was doing this. It didn't take long- two individuals on the outskirts. Palming my lightsaber, I began to move slowly, surreptitiously through the crowd.

The sky darkened and the storm got worst. The wind howled. The thunder intensified, causing a stir as people began jostling each other. I saw the individual raise their hands, and the thunder reached a crescendo. I broke into a dead sprint, attempting to push through the now panicked crowd.

I don't know who it was, and I didn't care. Whoever they were, they were obviously up to no good. This was an attack on the First Order leadership- maybe some Hegemony holdout?

Irrelevant, I thought as I could finally make out a woman next to a man in a knock-off Imperial Knight garb. I was about to ignite my lightsaber, and the woman brought down her arms. A massive lightning bolt struck. The panicked crowd screamed, and I was knocked down in the hubbub. Quickly gathering myself, I looked for the woman and her accomplice, but in the panic I had lost sight of them. I could not sense them.

And eerie silence had fallen over the crowd. Looking in the direction of the lightning strike, I saw a figure had appeared, floating in the midst of the still arcing lightning. It began to lessen in brightness and intensity, the arcs still supported and wound around the figure like a comforting cocoon, before the figure of Natasi Josephine Fortan came into focus.

I looked on-shocked, numb, elated, and on some level, horrified- as the Mother of the Nation began speaking. I dimly remember taking out my Knight-issued com-link, attempting to verify what the hell was going on.

"Novice Bernu. At Remembrance Field. By the Gods, What have they done?"

Ariel Yvarro | Kassandra Distorith | Fevris Derzelas | Nylea Apollodor | Masayu Kimura | Taeli Raaf | Ryker Atreides | Madelyn Lowe | Otzdrava Velexia | Natasi Fortan

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

Moff Yvarro had gone up to speak, and Elisea followed along with the speech, she felt each beat. Her hand tightened around Nylea's as the speech continued - but soon after something else. The clouds darkened, and the winds grew colder and whatever was happening had caught most of the people in attendance off guard. Her hand shifted out of Nylea's as she saw the lightning strike and then as if something out of a holofilm, there she was living and breathing. Natasi Josephine Fortan herself, Elisea's mouth was agape.​

The late-not-so-late Grand Moff Natasi Fortan spoke, and she spoke with such reverence and determination. Elisea looked over at Nylea and just could not speak, what sort of sorcery was this? "This... this isn't real, no- what?" She was just at a complete loss for words. She rose to her feet and took Nylea by the hand. "I think I need to leave."​

​

"Whatever's happened, is not natural."​

​

Nylea Apollodor ​

 

[Nylea Apollodor]

The moment she took in the woman's face, Nylea knew why Elisea reacted the way she did. Where she was confused at the way her girlfriend acted at first, she then felt that way for the same reason why Elisea acted that way. Natasi Fortan, someone who was supposed to be dead, now stood there in the flesh. Rumors had been shared with the echani long ago, stories of people brought back from the dead told by a man she would've erased from her memory if she could've. Until now, though, she'd always believed those stories to be mere myths. Sheer, utter confusion made it so she didn't know how to feel about all this, but it certainly didn't feel right.

Elisea standing up from her seat snapped Nylea out of her thought-induced trance. She looked at the Avalonian before rising to her feet herself and nodding at the woman's words. "We should go home, then," the echani responded. "I wish I could tell you what is going on."

"Shall I cook for us tonight?"

It was a basic attempt at shifting the topic to something more mundane for now, but hopefully it worked long enough for Elisea to recollect herself.

Elisea Korrado ​