Junction Mother Knows Best [ ME & TSC Junction of Hapes & Empty Hex ]

[Adelle Bastiel]

Fountain Palace, Ta'a Chume'Dan, Hapes
Tags: Aselia Verd | Quinn Varanin

The weight Adelle felt came from more than just the polished beskar’gam she wore. Somov Rit, she disliked but understood. The same with Uyter, and the information she uncovered there bothered her with how familiar it felt. And while she hadn’t been informed of anything other than a Mandalorian presence needed at the coronation of the new Queen Mother—and thus the new Mandalorian Warden of the Hapes system—she could feel the urgency from the beacon of Light on the planet.

She’d been distracted almost as soon as Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata had gone to prepare himself for the coronation ceremony. That was when she felt the shift happen, the urgency from the Light on this planet. The sudden voids in the Force started shortly after. Adelle barely registered the familiar faces among the delegation as they entered the Fountain Palace: Siv Kryze , Warmaster Mia Monroe , Aselia, even Quinn, among others. The armor and even buy’ce helped, surprisingly. Gold accents stood out from dark blue plates and the wolf-pelt cloak magnetically attached to her shoulders gave an air of intimidation. All she had to do was stand among the delegation, outwardly composed, and nod when acknowledged before the ceremony started.

But she was standing next to the two worst people for pretending everything was fine: Quinn and Aselia. Quinn was Echani and could read body language like a book-chip. The armor mitigated that somewhat, but Adelle doubted it would hide everything. And Aselia always knew. No matter how much Adelle buried her emotions, no matter how much she shielded herself, used Force techniques to be calm and composed—somehow, Aselia always knew.

Behind the visor, Adelle ground her teeth as she felt another Light snuffed out.

Why?

 

[Astraea Vega]

Queen Astraea​

TAG: Aether Verd

Coronation…

It was a level of ascendancy that felt surreal in all ways. Of all the people to be chosen, to be selected by her peers had been both awe inspiring and mind boggling. Add that to the literal purging of corruption by heroes in armor and robes, this was all something straight from the depths of the fairy tales she was not supposed to read as a child.

No, such things were not allowed. Fantastical ideals of such things would never serve anyone in life. The tales were radical, and no such things would ever serve a young woman once she was grown.

Yet here she was, right smack dab in the middle of her own chaotic fairy tale.

The grandeur of the Fountain Palace never did disappoint. From the elegant patterns of the marble floors, to each pillar that stood to hold the breathtaking, crushing weight of the pieces above them. Even everything from sconces and curtains were enough to make one pause and really take in the effort that had gone into place to first erect such a place, but then meticulously design every inch within. That alone should have been enough to intimidate Astraea, that such pride in appearance had come before her, but it did not. If anything, it only applied more steel to her backbone, though did nothing to keep her from pacing the length of floor within the room she had been instructed to remain in for now.

Instructed. Was she not to be Queen? How was it that some face she did not recognize yet was able to tell her to remain put, when all she wanted to do was march out of this room and go mingle.

A shift within the room caught her eye and brunette curls bounced as Astri turned her head to focus on the movement. Ah yes, the Mandalorian presence. That was what kept her right here, behaving herself. To not be intimidated by the armor would be foolish, and the young Queen knew this from the first moment she had laid eyes upon any of them. She did not find herself afraid, however. None of this, the armor, the Sith, the battling, the politicians, the nobility, the crowds? None of it made her afraid. She was braced to endure, to meet the evening head on with her chin held high and a smile on her face.

That did not mean she was foolish enough to test the fortitude of an armored giant.

“How much longer are they going to keep me here?” The words of impatience finally escaped her as she turned to make another pass across the room. “I should be out there, meeting the people who traversed all this way to bear witness.”

A dangerous notion, and she knew as such. And still she paced, one way and then the other as she waited for this ceremony to be done and over with.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Hapes, Inner Rim
| Objective | I - THE ASCENT OF THE QUEEN MOTHER

What did it mean to be a sacrifice?

When people spoke of sacrifice, they meant giving up something valuable for the sake of a greater purpose or for the benefit of others. It could involve physical offerings: the sacrifice of blood, sweat, and tears, so often associated with the necessity of effort and the steps taken towards goals both benevolent and nefarious. Though, just as easily it could be emotional and personal, such as giving up time, comfort, or even one's own desires for a loved one or a cause—Itzhal understood that one well: the sacrifices that his people required, ever desperate for more tinder to flames, and the suffering that dragged him forever forward, attempting to fulfil those needs.

Selfless, in a way that could be so commonplace it was possible to run into on a street corner, shared between children and adults, with the softest of smiles and utterly thoughtless, yet also as rare and extraordinary as the final moments of a sun dwindling into the final gasp of the void.

There was nothing selfless about tonight.

The chamber did not celebrate its people's independence; it did not celebrate its history; it did not celebrate its culture. It celebrated the illusion of these things sacrificed on a pillar of violence.

Vast pillars coated in gold climbed towards a fresco that sprawled across the ceiling like a second sky, marked with history so old it had wandered into the annals of myth and wonder. Bronze braziers burned with slow, smokeless flames, their amber glow washing across polished stone and grand banners untouched till this day. An assortment of colours spread from the picturesque glass windows, their rays leaking through in a near-blinding array of light and warmth. An assortment of voices spoke in hushed murmurs and loud cheers that somehow failed to drown out the sound of new arrivals, with footsteps clattering over the stonework.

Already arrived, a single figure stood against one of the pillars, his presence visible but at the same time easily ignored amid the grandeur of the room.

Itzhal Volkihar stood, his arms crossed over his chestplate, a solitary silhouette wrought from blackened iron and bleeding crimson. His beskar'gam had never been regal. It was too dark for celebration, too worn for the splendour of Hapes; its scarlet panels dulled by countless encounters with blaster fire, blades of light, and wind-blown grit that followed him regardless of what world he stepped upon. Silver edges caught the firelight where innumerable impacts had stripped away layers of paint, exposing the metal beneath like old scars beneath weathered skin. Every wound remembered, every sacrifice paid in toll.

He was not here to coddle; he was here because their presence required security.

Beneath the sleek visor, blue light illuminated the transparisteel, transforming it into a virtual display of critical information. Intricate layers of data flickered before the eyes: meticulous patrol routes defined by shimmering lines, arrival identification codes pulsing rhythmically, and detailed suspect reports echoing the urgency of the moment—most already dealt with before he even had to lift a finger. All reasons for pride. The last, however, was not so kind. The relentless march of the Great Heathen Army splayed across the screen—each thundering step reverberating with death and destruction, their heavy boots grinding into the very foundation of Hapes. He could almost picture it as the light began to wane, a cold shadow, shivering beneath the tread of beskar'gam.

As always, Mandalore stepped forward.

And Itzhal was left to trail in the ashes that succeeded them—another sacrifice, in the cogs of a machine, only he got the choice.

It would be more noble to burn it all to the ground; but then the dream of his people was just as blinding as the glitz and the glamour.

For now, at least.

Tags: Mia Monroe Leontis Antalis Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Chernobog Avela Wren Siv Kryze Adelle Bastiel​

 

[Sylor]

The Enclave
Objective - Find and Eliminate
Tags: Open​

He was not a political man, nor did he ever want to be one. He left that sort of thing for better Mandalorians than he. He was a soldier and warrior through and through. Varek smirked as the vessel touched down. He stood up with a solid and swift movement as he descended down the ramp once it was lowered. The rest of the Mandalorians that arrived with him, they began to spread out.

"Keep your eyes open, and do not hesitate. Their survival is at stake, they will do whatever it takes."

Sylor motioned them forward, and in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder how his brethren were doing. Especially the ones dealing with the political side of things.

 

[Arris Windrun]

APPROACHING: Josiah Denko
Nilira Vornix Lily Rhodes Isobel Serraris | OPEN
Down & Out​

There was no hesitation. No regard for her own safety as the cyborg rushed headlong into danger, hellbent on pushing through everything the Jedi had to throw at her, until she reached the heart of the Enclave and expunged the source of Light once and for all.

A pair of Jedi, Knight and Apprentice, threw themselves forward to block her path. They worked in tandem. The Apprentice played it safe, relying on the Force to throw Arris off balance as his master, the Knight, entered the melee with disarming strikes. One telekinetic burst from the student caused Arris to stumble just in time for the Knight to crash down in a lunging strike.

She parried the strike with her songsteel weapon, buckling against the force of his downward attack. At the same time, her other hand adjusted the revolver's twin, twisting the holster until the barrel pointed at the Jedi's gut.

A loud, deafening bang filled the air as a solid metal slug ripped through robes and flesh and buried itself into a concrete wall nearly forty meters back.

The Knight gasped... surprise, more than pain... as his lightsaber recoiled, and he fell.

His Apprentice screamed and rushed in, recklessly so, but before Arris could react, she noticed Lily in the periphery, intercepting a flanking Jedi.

"Wait!" Arris called out.

Before she could spare Lily the kill, the Apprentice's lightsaber slashed across in a horizontal arc aimed for her head. Her backstep was too little too late as the plasmic blade burned through her eyes, nearly cutting deep enough to reach the skull.

Arris fell, supported by one hand, her gun shaking in the other, as the Jedi came in for another strike. She dropped her gun, catching the boy's arm just as his blade dug into her shoulder. With a quick jerk, she snapped his forearm, then swept her leg across to topple him. He shrieked in pain as the cyborg blindly punched, and punched, and punched until he went quiet.

She was left panting as she recollected her revolver.

A small little ping being sent to other members of the Covenant, as she uploaded the Enclave's map to their devices as a "gift".

Her co-processor aggregated the data immediately. Although blind, the technopath could use this layout to find her way, relying on the signals from the building's own automation as a sort of echolocation.

Nilira better stay safe, Arris thought.

"Lily?" Arris called out. A little too calmly given the transpiring events. "Are you there?"

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Loadout: XC-86 Assault Commando Armor | Modified TL-50 | Modified SE-44C pistols | Viridian bladed lightsaber

The second shot had not been a killing shot, rather it had been a warning to the learner, 'Stay down, play dead. You could still be useful.' It had grazed their arm, taking a chunk from the bicep when the unstable particle envelope exploded only to immediately shatter the bone with the concussive wave while leaving a nicely cauterized wound behind. The ionic portion of the disruptor blast put them down cold long enough for the two remaining to enter their opening stances. Yet neither had started the duel. Something in the Force felt strange to Kurayami, not quite wrong, but the moment before a shatterpoint, there were many paths before him but one was quickly coming into focus.

The learner had regained their footing and slowly, silently started to make their way to ambush the Corellian, as their saber raised and the snap hiss of activation was heard, Kurayami turned on his back foot, spinning to face the new threat and adjusting the angle of his blade as he did, no excess flourish, simply a quick motion to reposition it and drove it into his attacker's chest ripping it out horizontally. Before the Padawan's body had even fully hit the floor he was already facing the master again, no longer in an opening stance. The Corellian tilted his head as though there were a moment of recognition. Shaking his head he rushed the master with Force enhanced speed, delivering a brutal slash from left hip to right shoulder, one that was blocked. The saber lock was going in the Drunken Savant's favor, a smirk growing beneath his helmet as he felt the anger welling up inside his opponent. The rage exploded outward, sending Kurayami flying backwards. Even with his reflexes and jetpack to compensate, the Corellian still had a rough landing against a wall. The master opposite him seemed almost unaffected by the outburst. Flourish from his opponent as a taunt, oh how Kurayami wanted to rush again.

He didn't Instead he planted his feet and after a figure eight flourish went back to the Form V opening stance, waiting. "Choose if your padawan dies in vain. I came only because the Force led me here to excise the rot of the foundation this Temple was built upon. Unless of course the last name San'ire means anything to you?" The quickness with which the master's face drained of color told the Corellian all he needed to know. A deep centering breath. Silence settled once more, this time holding a more personal promise.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

​

A rocket screamed overhead, disappearing into the smoke before detonating somewhere beyond Adonis's field of view. The explosion sent stone and dust skyward, briefly swallowing half a squad of advancing Mandalorians before the haze cleared just enough to reveal them still pressing forward. Blue icons flickered across the battlefield, each one marking a friendly position as blaster fire cut crimson lines through the air.

The battle had already begun.

Beskar met the Jedi head-on. Ancient halls built for study now echoed with the crack of rifles, the thunder of detonations, and the unmistakable hiss of igniting lightsabers. Teams advanced from cover to cover with practiced precision while medics dragged the wounded behind shattered columns, refusing to leave a single vode behind. Somewhere deeper within the enclave, another explosion rattled the feed, the camera shaking violently before stabilizing once more.

The Great Heathen Army had marched from victory to victory. The Diarchy had fallen, Imperial warlords had been broken. Yet the enemy before them today was unlike the soldiers Adonis had fought across a dozen worlds. Jedi were disciplined, adaptable, and dangerous. Every meter of ground had to be earned.

Dark eyes followed the blue markers weaving across the battlefield. The cost was already mounting. These warriors- his warriors- were giving everything they had. They were laying their lives down against an enemy that never yielded.

And Adonis wasn't there.

Numbers in the top of his HUD were starting to tick higher. To some they would just be numbers, as long as the enemy had a higher number the battle was being won, but to Adonis, they were names. Those were his vode, and every new report felt like his failure.

"Warden?" A voice was light against the steady buzzing the drone he was watching through made.

"Master Angelis." The voice was firmer this time, like trying to get the attention of a child.

"Ahem, Adonis Angelis?" Again, firmer, more direct.

The battlefield vanished. Smoke and shattered stone gave way to polished marble, towering columns, and gilded balconies as the Fountain Palace returned to view.

"Apologies. Work." A gruff voice responded finally as the massive Mandalorian warrior straightened himself and cleared his throat.

"That is quite alright, Master Angelis." A much smaller man replied. He was an older Hapan, someone who was likely charged with being a sort of chaperon to the Mandalorian. Adonis noted the wrinkles that creased the old Hapan's face. Even here, where beauty was held in such high regard, age remained undefeated. "I just wanted to let you know that we will be starting soon. You should make your way to the main hall." He paused, looking up at the towering Mandalorian, "When you are able to that is, sir." He lowered his gaze from Adonis's buy'ce to the floor before scuttling off.

The Mandalorian blinked. He wanted to bring the feed back. He wanted to know what was happening. More than anything, he wanted to be there.

But his responsibility was to the people of Vaal, to the people of the Empire, and by extension, now, the people in this palace. The Warden resisted the urge. His vode would do their duty. It was time for him to do his.

Ivory and gold beskar caught the light as Adonis entered the main hall. He stood tall among the people in the crowd, even among many of his own. Adonis blended into the palace's aesthetic far better than he cared to admit. The thought lingered just long enough for him to wonder if his armor had always been this ostentatious.

While the nobles whispered under their crystal chandeliers, Mandalorians stood like beskar statues among the marble and silk. Somewhere ahead waited a Queen about to ascend, and a future neither Hapes nor the Empire could afford to squander.

TAG: Leontis Antalis Itzhal Volkihar Adelle Bastiel Siv Kryze Chernobog Mia Monroe Avela Wren Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata
​

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
.​

FOUNTAIN PALACE, HAPES

How much longer are they going to keep me here?

That was the question of the hour. Even the Sole Ruler had not puzzled together an answer to that one. His presence on Hapes this day was not that of a conqueror who was pressing a new cluster of worlds into his service. His presence was not there to serve as a symbol of tyranny to come. But rather, Mand'alor the Iron was present to witness and support. He was reminded of when his dear friend ascended the throne of Eshan months prior.

How he had taken part in the event that cemented her reign. How his presence made it clear that Mandalore did not hold a blade to the neck of the Echani - but rather an outstretched hand in fellowship. This was what Hapes would enjoy, all through the efforts of the new Queen.

Or rather, soon-to-be-Queen. In Aether's eyes, the woman was already in charge - but there were a laundry list of traditions that had to be honored first. And while he would have loved nothing more to "12skipafew, wearthecrown, I'm going home", duty demanded that he be here. Thus, upon polished floors did he stand in the shadow of the new monarch. Fully adorned with his beskar'gam of charcoal hue, his T-visor turned in her direction as she spoke.

"I couldn't agree more." he began, tone casual. Naboo had exhausted him of formalities. They were rulers - he would speak to her plain. "But, some traditions - while uncomfortable - are for the benefit of the people. What's a few minutes of being cooped up when they'll feel seen by you?" The Mand'alor finished his thoughts with a nod. Yet, from behind his visor, his lips parted to say more.

Only then was he interrupted by the chime of bells.

"Ah...Looks like you're up."

Astraea Vega

 

[Beskar]

THE ASCENT OF THE QUEEN MOTHER
"With the sounding of the bell, a new era begins."​

FOUNTAIN PALACE, HAPES
Inner Rim Territories

The Fountain Palace had become the heart of Hapes, and from that heart every breath of the Cluster seemed to draw itself inward.

Beneath the splendor of vaulted ceilings, cascading fountains, jeweled columns, and banners woven in the colors of noble houses, the gathered assembly waited. Hapans stood in dignified clusters, whispering behind gloved hands and painted smiles. Mandalorians lingered among them with armored stillness. Sith of the Covenant moved through the hall like dark omens, watched by those wise enough to understand that friendship with such powers was never a simple thing.

Yet for all the intrigue, all the murmured bargains, and all the careful glances...every eye returned to the vacant throne. The question moved through the hall without needing to be spoken: When would the procession begin?

Then the bells tolled.​

Their sound rolled across the Fountain Palace with solemn majesty, deep and resonant enough to still the laughter of the court and its officers. At their summons, the hymns of old Hapes rose from unseen voices, drawn from the annals of a people who had endured betrayal, corruption, and the ambition of lesser hands. The melody swept through the hall with grave beauty. It was remembrance. It was cleansing. It was the sound of a matriarchy calling itself back from the brink.

The doors opened...and through them came the procession.

At its head walked the High Caller, robed in immaculate white and adorned with ceremonial gold. In their hands swung a thurible of polished metal, its chains glinting in the light as fragrant incense poured from within in slow and sacred clouds. The scent filled the hall with warmth and richness, a holy aroma meant to cleanse the memory of the puppet crown and drive from these halls the corruption that had once dared sully the Hapan name. Each measured step marked the death of that sordid reign. Each breath of incense paved the way for the rule that would follow.

Behind the High Caller came the Crownbearer.

She was veiled in silks of pale silver, her face hidden from the assembly as she carried the crown jewels upon a pillow of the richest purple. The jewels did not glitter as mere ornaments. They shone as inheritance, as burden, and as proof that the line of Queen Motherhood had not been broken beyond repair. Every noble eye understood what she bore. Every Hapan heart knew what those sacred pieces meant. Upon that pillow rested the legitimacy of the throne, the memory of Queens past, and the right of Hapes to name its own future.

Behind her walked the Mother Tongue.

She wore no crown, for she did not claim the throne. She bore no blade, for she did not speak as conqueror. Yet her presence commanded the hall all the same, for until the Queen-Mother sat her rightful seat, the Mother Tongue was the voice of Hapes made flesh. She was the will of the Cluster given breath. She was the witness of noble houses, vassal worlds, and ancient customs gathered into one living office.

Together, the three figures proceeded down the long path before the throne.

The hymns followed them until they reached the foot of the dais, where the High Caller brought the thurible to stillness and allowed the final note to linger through the Fountain Palace. The silence that followed did not feel empty. It felt expectant, as though the palace itself had drawn breath.

The Mother Tongue raised her hands.

“Hear now, daughters of Hapes. Hear now, honored witnesses from every power gathered beneath the eye of our crown. The old stain has been cast from these halls. The puppet has been stripped from the throne. The hand of bleak ambition has been severed from the future of our Cluster.”

Her voice carried cleanly across the hall, proud and unflinching.

“On this day, the long line of Queen Motherhood is restored. Today, Hapes looks not to foreign masters, nor to syndicates, nor to those who would spend our inheritance for their own gain. Today, Hapes looks to Hapes. It looks to its blood, its houses, its daughters, its people, and the will that no corruption has managed to extinguish.”

The Mother Tongue turned toward the vacant throne, and every soul in the Fountain Palace seemed to follow her gaze.

“Let all present hear. Let all present witness. Let the Cluster remember...The throne awaits the woman chosen to preserve our customs, to secure our future, and to lead our people into the age now dawning before us!”

Her hands lifted higher, and the bells began to toll once more.

“Let Astraea Vega grace these halls. Let her take her vows before crown, court, and people. Let her ascend the throne of Hapes, and let the Cluster know that its Queen-Mother has come!”

The final words rang through the Fountain Palace with solemn force.

Then the doors opened anew.

All eyes turned toward them, and the gathered assembly waited for the arrival of next Queen-Mother.​

TAG: Astraea Vega , Mia Monroe , Mercy , Leontis Antalis , Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata , Chernobog , Avela Wren , Siv Kryze , Adonis Angelis IV , Itzhal Volkihar , Adelle Bastiel , Aselia Verd , Quinn Varanin​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Adelle Bastiel //: Aselia Verd //:
//: Attire //:
Quinn conceals her force presence to a negligible feeling at all times.

A coronation, another one. It seemed Aether had a knack for making women into Queens and worlds loyal to his empire. Quinn was quiet, as she had been requested to represent Eshan during the crowning of the Hapen Queen.

This would be the third that she knew of. She had helped overthrow whatever creatures slithered into the throne before the previous Queen's body had cooled. The Black Sun had made bargains, promises — she still remembered sitting on the ship watching Mercy and Mauve weave the web that gave Aurelia a throne.

A pirate on the throne of a Queen. It was interesting, but at the time Quinn didn't mind. She was experiencing the galaxy beyond the Blackwall. Still, the woman had done very little of worth for Hapes, and now the Mandalorians were playing Queenmaker.

The thought made her bite her lip slightly; she was made a Queen by the graces of her cousin. She was a tool to prevent uprising and strife, but her blood gave her the right to sit upon the Eshan throne. Her eyes would follow, cataloging every face in the room, reading them and their reactions. Some seemed to want this, to be rid of the Queen before.

This was peace.

It reminded her of her own coronation on Eshan.

If Aether could make her a Queen, he could also pave the road to destruction if he chose.

She tasted blood, as her teeth clipped the inside of her cheek. Her jaw was tight as she continued to watch.

From the corner of her eye, she looked at the Mandalorian she had grown to trust. Adelle had been a rock for her on Naboo, and to see the woman again out of Republic space was interesting. A part of her felt the woman preferred to be surrounded by the Republic; they seemed more her kind… in a sense.

Each small muscle twitch beneath the armor sang to her the chorus of a woman suffering. Quinn remained quiet, listening, understanding. She could feel it too, but not in the way that Adelle did. Quinn quite often felt like a harbinger of death and despair. She could easily pick out the anguish and helplessness one felt before death.

Even the most valiant whined for their mother or lover before their vision turned black.

While she felt the torment, her dark core swallowed it like the sweetest treat.

Quinn looked away, but allowed the gentlest and lightest brush of her fingertips against the Mandalorian's armored hand.

It was almost to say, I understand. I feel it too.

As the moment passed, it was time. Quinn, like the others, turned to see the new Queen-Mother.

May her fate be unlike the others...

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

THE ASCENT OF THE QUEEN MOTHER​

Fountain Palace, Ta'a Chume'Dan, Hapes
Tags: Open
Attire: Warden Beskar'gam

For many in the Empire, it was their first time setting foot on the planet Hapes, let alone within the storied halls of the Castle of Per'Agthra that lay at the heart of the Hapes Consortium. It would be the first time many would experience the beauty not only of Hapes but also of the Hapan Culture and People, despite their own cultural views. For the Warden of Ferrix, that was not the case. A lifetime ago, she had stood within these halls at the side of then-Jedi Grandmaster Valery Noble , delivering an impassioned speech to the now-deceased Kha'la Daaray in their bid to bring the Hapes Cluster into the Galactic Alliance. In truth, the very Light that the Mandalorians sought to extinguish from the Hapes Cluster was one that the Warden of Ferrix herself had ignited and brought into the darkness.

It was a secret that few in the Empire knew, and one she saw no issue with keeping hidden from those who need not pry into the affairs of their betters. Old memories were not important; the lives she had lived had their time in the light, and now they had gone, long since passed like the embers of a dying flame waiting to ignite the next cord of wood. Much like those lives, the Hapan Throne had passed beneath a half-dozen or so posteriors before the newest Queen Mother was brought forth to claim it.

The Warden of Ferrix remained silent, ever present yet distant. Part of her still lingered on the thought that perhaps it would have been better to have just turned the Cluster into a Parking Lot, to remove Hapes from the Galaxy, for much like glitter, once Hapes spread, it wasn't easily removed or cured. Still, it was the memories of Kha'la Daaray that kept the Warden of Ferrix from pushing the issue forward, knowing that the planet her friend had so loved and cared for was now back in the proper hands and not held in the clutches of pirates was consolation enough. She shifted, ever so slightly, not to get a better view so much as to ensure her own comfort, moving with the cresting sun as it slipped through the stained-glass windows and bathed the hall in a cascade of brilliant light as the Crownbearer brought forth the crown.

A procession of pomp and circumstance, as all crownings had become. She could suffer through it silently for a few more moments until her duty as Warden was finished and she could find some quiet corner to slip off to, some forgotten wing of the Palace that only remained in the memories of the lost. The doors opening to the masses were the signal; it showed that her time enduring was coming to a close. Soon enough, she would slip back into the shadows and be forgotten, left alone with her thoughts and the spirits of the long-since-dead past.
​

 

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: HAPES | Objective: 1 - Witness the Coronation | Tags: Anet Raine Mia Monroe​

.

They arrived on the Tyranny after calling ahead. The last thing Arris Windrun wanted was to cause a diplomatic incident with Aether Verd by dropping a 50 kilometer monstrosity unannounced in the middle of an expansion campaign by the Mandalorian Empire. After they arrived, the Admiral of the Tyranny went on to assist the Mandalorian and Sith forces with pacifying any remaining Jedi elements or rebellious Hapan groups.

Mercy had been in a good mood with Anet earlier, having found an ideological... if not partner, at least someone whose mind went in roughly similar directions. But the closer they got to Hapes, the more somber the Empress of the Core became. She had forged a special connection with Aurellia in the early days. It had been her hand that had cracked open the skull of the previous Queen Mother. Her secret creatures that assisted Aurellia with silently removing any remaining loyalists of the previous Queen Mother and to keep monitoring the situation.

But it had all soured in the end. Even before Coruscant, but especially afterwards and Mercy had turned her back on the Hapes Cluster. This time Arris didn't even need to counsel her about it. While every fiber in her being had wanted to bring fire and thunder to repair the situation, instinctively she knew that some things were beyond the matters of armies and fleets to restore.

It would have been detrimental to their efforts to balance the High Republic and Imperial elements too. Extending themselves into territory while they were still sorting out the Core. Maybe later, Mercy kept telling herself. Soon, just this one thing, she told herself. And even as Mercy went to the Outer Rim to fight along with her sestra, Srina Talon and otherwise had a merry good time, the Hapes Cluster had apparently devolved in ways she could not have imagined.

Jedi... here of all places.

There were many things Mercy could abide by. Even a craven gra who spit on everything she valued, Mercy could accept, since they were fueled by the excesses of the Dark Side and had their own place in the pattern. But the Light rising in a place where Mercy had placed the ruler? No, never. So she watched as the nobles maneuvered and once the signal came from Aether that the Mandalorians were ready to protect this place that Mercy held dear as long as the Empress of the Core did not interfere with... the coming ugliness?

Mercy accepted with bile in her mouth.

One of the Mandalorians had already been waiting for the Covenant. Mia Monroe did not seem happy to have them here. This was just as well because Mercy wasn't truly happy to be here either, not in these circumstances. But their recriminations would have to wait, because the coronation was already at hand to put Astraea Vega on the throne.

From her own seat the Empress watched impassively as it all happened.

One fist squeezing tight, nails biting into flesh, skin regrowing. Then nails biting in again. The pain was steadying her in this moment. Just about.

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Mia Monroe]

Direct tag: Mercy Itzhal Volkihar
Others: Adonis Angelis IV Amelia von Sorenn Aether Verd Astraea Vega Adelle Bastiel Quinn Varanin Chernobog Siv Kryze Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Leontis Antalis (i think thats everyone?)​

Mercy's silent presence was deafening. The Warmaster's gold trimmed visor angled slightly, the barest inclination of reluctant greeting before the Empress of the Core took her seat.

No one understood better than Mia how the cycle needed to be broken, how a century of fighting the Sith had ended in decimation. It did not however, make it an easy pill to swallow when she had to share the same room with them.

Her attention shifted, imperceptibly to the familiar dull grey and deep red armoured form of Itzhal, arms folded, back set against a pillar radiating the same distaste for their circumstance as she. His presence was at least offered a modicum of comfort.

Maybe they’d make it through this without a diplomatic incident.

Maybe.

The bells tolled and the atmosphere shifted. Nobles oblivious to the tension quivered with excitement. “Eyes open. Anyone moves to disrupt, remove them quietly.”

The command did not make it past the confines of her helmet, filtering quietly through comms of the security positioned throughout. Where eyes moved to watch the procession, Mia shifted to the mountain of a woman, feet shifting to angle her body a hairs breadth towards Mercy, fingers curling and uncurling once at her side. She did not trust Mercy, and Mercy would know.

 

[Chernobog]

THE ASCENT OF THE QUEEN MOTHER

Cherno didn't wait for the Mandalorian to fully disappear before she discarded the glowing end of the death stick. Rather than hitting the hard marble, she aimed for the edge of a soft, cream-colored Hapan rug, pressing the bud into the costly fibers with a deliberate twist of her heel. A tiny, black scorch mark appeared in the wool. It was time for the palace staff to do some real work tonight instead of just standing around looking pretty.

She moved away from the pillar, her silks brushing against her legs as she returned to the main hall. The crowd's growing size caused her processors to strain as she downloaded all the available information on the layout of the room and who was currently attending the coronation event. Some figures were more important than others but they were bound to be equally boring when it came to conversation.

If she had the ability to hurl she might have done so as the air was a humid mix of costly perfume, sweat and the unique smell of armor polish as her eyes followed a group of Mandalorian commandos standing shoulder to shoulder with Hapan ministers. Intelligence had suggested that the Jedi had set up an enclave in the cluster, surely these experienced warriors should focus on this potential threat than standing idle at a royal coronation.

What was next on the agenda she wondered, a slumber party with the Hapan royal court. Maybe a braiding circle. She clicked her mechanical tongue behind her teeth, as she spotted none other than Mercy the Empress of the Core and the Triumvir of the Covenant. Cherno paused, her unblinking stare tracking the woman's movements across the throne.

Mercy looked absurdly solid, practically bursting out of her frame with sheer physical presence. Cherno tilted her head slightly, her internal processors running a quick, detached evaluation of the Empress's current muscle mass. It was ridiculous, really. With a hint of dry amusement, she wondered if she could pay someone to obtain Mercy's drug dealer's HoloNet contact number.

Sure, Cherno didn't have a normal anatomy, but she wouldn't mind adding a few extra layers of heavy-duty muscle to this chassis. If she was going to be forced to spend her evenings surrounded by irritating biological entities, she might as well have the leverage to throw them out of the nearest window.
​

 

[Mig Gred]

Objective 2
Tags: Arris Windrun Nilira Vornix Perseus Muad Dib Tessa Monroe Lily Rhodes Josiah Denko Kurayami Bloodborn Open
Ship: Valiant-class Arms Freighter Bunker/Whiplash

Mig hurried up. No one yet to see him. Good. Maybe this would go off without a hitch. He kept his pace as he made it to the temple site. He knew he at least some of his vode there wouldn’t be crazy, but closer now he was worried. Dar’jetii. Of karking course.

“I was really hoping I had sensed that wrong.” He admitted over a secure channel, and quickly moved for the back entrance. He wanted to jump in, but he couldn’t risk this.

Mig looked at the door, using a small spark of Force Lightning to short the door. Ok. So far so good. He just had to…. He heard a blaster charge behind him and turned, see a kid ready for a fight. Well…. Made sense there’d be more than Jedi right now. He lifted his hands, rolling the blades to a not so useful position.

“Echuta…. Kid I’m not with the party out there. I’m here to….”

“But you’re a Mandalorian.” Ok…. Fair enough. Mig quickly held his weapons by the blades, ready to hand them to the kid.

“Fair enough, but would I be giving you these if I wanted to hurt anyone here?” Admittedly he wouldn’t mind hurting a Sith, but he just hoped this would work. The kid looked, nodding before looking around.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m a Gred with a ship out of here. Fully smuggler job. Let’s leave it at that.” The kid had taken the blades by this point, handing th back before motioning. Mig just sighed in relief. Sheathing his blades he ran behind the kid, then heard the fighting. He saw some of the people in there, quickly holding his hands up before speaking in a loud whisper.

“Someone order a ship?” He then gabbed a holo disc, showing the Whiplash as opposed to the Bunker. Not that the average person would know the difference. Just the Whiplash only existed as a sold vessel on paper. “Not luxury but The Fleet’s spread a little thin right now, and ‘don’t want to shoot that’ seemed like a higher priority. I get you have no reason to trust me, but it’s a way out.”

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: 2 & 4
Tags: Arris Windrun Nilira Vornix Perseus Tessa Monroe Lily Rhodes Kurayami Bloodborn Mig Gred Open

Battle was joined.

Blaster bolts flew through the air. The smell of ionized atmosphere, ozone stench, and the copper of blood tickled his nostrils, even through the air filters in his buy'ce. Figures pressed against one another all around. Many held green outlines with designations of “friendly”. Those who were his own people had a blue outline. The enemy held no color distinction. And there were many.

Muad waited as his group moved to one of the outer walls and began to set explosives. The troopers held a loose corridor back to the ships, taking up defensive positions for the return of the offensive teams. Muad turned to look toward the temple's main entrance and observed the arrival of the Jedi master, Josiah Denko , a warrior of the light. Several attacked the man but fell before crossing blades with him.

“Finally, a worthy opponent …”

His right hand pulled the beskar sword from its sheath on his back. Desire to go to the other man and enter into the deadly dance of death flushed through his veins. He almost took a step forward through the rubble already littering the ground to challenge him. But that wasn't his objective. Not now. He raised his beskar blade in a salute. Or maybe a promise, should they both be standing once he finished his work.

The explosion rocked his body and created a small shockwave. Debris flashed out with the smoke and peppered his armor ineffectually. Muad grit his teeth and turned away to join his team as they entered the newly created entrance. Jedi, Mandalorians, and Sith fell outside the temple. But his goal was inside. He jogged forward, taking point into the temple halls.

“Left, then the second right.”

Putting action to words, he moved down the hall. Behind him came his Dozen and six of the nine Knights of Aegis. Three stayed inside the entrance to the temple, guarding their exit. Ahead, several Jedi ran through the hall, taking turns that moved them from his sight. The Dozen and the Knights hugged the walls with their weapons at the ready as their leader strolled down the center. Tan walls and grey marble floors would have otherwise been beautiful attributes of the building. But in war, such things were far from the mind.

Muad came to the first junction of the long hall and paused to peer down the corridor. It was empty save for smoke hugging the ceiling. One hand waved his people forward while he waited and watched in case they were spotted and engaged. Neither happened. When the last of his people passed, he jogged forward once more in the lead.

A group of Jedi skidded into the hall and turned in their direction, lightsabers held at the ready. It was too soon. And the opposition looked older, well into adulthood. There would be no talking them down as the quartet sprinted at the invading force. Muad sighed.

“Rippers, fire.”

Eight of his Dozen pulled the modified sidearms and opened up with a spray into the Jedi. They were good as they contorted their bodies and used their lightsabers as they were trained to. To deflect blaster fire back into the enemy. It was a fine strategy had his force been firing energy blasters. The slugs fired were partially vaporized by their blades, but the remainder of the bullets tore into their flesh, shredding their bodies without mercy. The group passed the four corpses as Muad led them onward.

His boots were tacky from the blood he walked through. The visceral reminder that death came to all. Sometimes unexpectedly. Did he have to order their deaths? Perhaps not. But it would have slowed their arrival to their objective. And that made it a necessary evil.

At the next intersection, he paused before kneeling next to the wall and peeking out. A bolt creased his armor, burning a path along his shoulder pauldron, before he ducked back to the safety of the wall. He paused for a moment. Nearly a dozen security personnel were hunkered behind random barricades. Doors, equipment, what even looked like tables from a mess hall. Quickly created but efficient. Behind the barricade, he saw multiple lightsabers—a decently erected defensive position.

“Knights, vibroshields up in a phalanx formation. Keep your heads down. Dozen, use the shields and pop up to take your shots—squad one on the left, squad two on the right. Four of you lay down suppression fire; the other four get target locks and launch rockets on my command. Champ, when that happens, you and I leap the shield wall and close on target. The rest of you continue covering fire as you advance. Once you reach the barricade, take it.”

The giant figure of the Knights nodded his head, changing his grip on his shield while he took hold of a giant golden cylinder at his belt. It was similar to a lightsaber but monstrous in size. A great saber, also known as a light club. The towering figure moved to the end of the formation rather than the middle. Muad took the other end.

“Now.”

The phalanx moved into the hall and was immediately engaged by the security team. They marched forward each step in unison, shields locked, and the blaster rifles of his Dozen lancing out, careful to duck down before they were hit by return fire. Halfway down the hall, Muad grinned inside his helmet.

“Fire!”

Rockets erupted from the vambraces and raced across the short distance to blow holes in the hastily erected barricade. Doors, chairs, and bodies flew and shattered from the explosions. Before the echoes faded, Muad and Champ rushed forward, each leaping over the enemy line. Two of the Jedi were too close to the exploding rockets, and their broken bodies lay against the far wall. Champ swept his greatsaber through a Jedi whose block was not enough to stop the force of the blow and used his other arm holding the shield to crush two enemy soldiers against the side of the hall.

When Muad leaped over the enemy, he swung the beskad, neatly decapitating one security officer before folding forward into a roll and springing to his feet between two Jedi. His blade carried the thrust of the right Jedi away from his body while hopping forward into the body of the other with a wild haymaker that sent teeth, blood, and the unconscious body of his enemy to the floor. He continued forward and blocked a skilled strike at his midsection by a third Jedi.

Behind him, his force drove over the fortifications and engaged the surviving defenders. However, Muad's attention was focused on the bladesman, who launched quick strikes at him, his beskad flicking out to push the lightsaber away. Each strike was just enough to bring danger, but the Jedi was wily, refusing to overextend. Muad continued advancing and forcing the Jedi to retreat. The Jedi remained calm until his back hit the wall, which surprised him. Muad capitalized on the moment of shock and slipped his beskad past his enemy's guard and into his heart.

He pulled his blade free and turned back to see the conflict had ended. All opponents were down. One of the Knights was slapping a bacta patch on a graze along his outer thigh while one of his Dozen added another armor plate over a crack on his chest plate. All were still operational. Muad pointed at three of the Knights.

“Repair the barricade and hold the position. You Dozen, breaching charges here.”

He pointed at the wall opposite the barricade while he joined the others who moved a short distance away. Three of his people placed the charges, and they gathered with the rest. Another explosion destroyed the wall, and Muad, the Dozen, and three Knights moved through the cloud of plaster and duracrete which permeated the air.

He hopped through the hole and looked at the prize, his crew joining him. Dozens of people rose from the meditation on papyrus rolls and watched the intruders. Normally, the number of Jedi in the room would have been a near-insurmountable force. He sheathed his blade and removed his buy'ce, slipping it into the webbing at his waist. Looking about the room, Muad smiled, his glowing eyes blazing blue.

“One, lock those doors. The rest of you, time to bag and tag.” Muad toggled his comlink and changed frequency. “Send the first repulsor sleds in. Operation Steal the booty is a go.”

Stun bolts flew from the Mandalorians and dropped the dozens of younglings where they stood, sat, and lay. Then the warriors took packs off their backs and began unrolling silver stasis bags.

 

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: HAPES | Objective: 1 - Witness the Coronation | Direct Tags: Anet Raine | Mia Monroe | Itzhal Volkihar
Other Tags: Adonis Angelis IV | Amelia von Sorenn | Aether Verd | Astraea Vega | Adelle Bastiel | Quinn Varanin | Chernobog | Siv Kryze | Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata | Leontis Antalis​

.

It did not take long for Mercy's attention to be drawn by the Mandalorian that had greeted them and led them towards the coronation hall. She had a hostile demeanor from the start, this Mercy had noticed simply by reading her body language and also its express intent. She did not know Mia Monroe intimately or personally, but the Mandalorian seemed to only telegraph what she wished to have telegraphed. That is why Mia's moves when she sat down near Mercy got noticed.

Where eyes moved to watch the procession, Mia shifted to the mountain of a woman, feet shifting to angle her body a hairs breadth towards Mercy, fingers curling and uncurling once at her side. She did not trust Mercy, and Mercy would know.

The shift in her knees, the slight incline of her body posture.

If Mia was an Echani it could have been read as a warning to the Empress. I do not trust you and if you make one move, I will kill you where you sit, damn the diplomatic pleasantries.

That is what Mercy read out of it and that is why she responded the way she did.

Her jaw angled away and inched up, exposing a touch of her neck... where her juggular resided. To anyone not steeped and cultured in the ways of Echani communication, it would be read as a simple stretch. A stiff neck from watching the procession from the same direction for several minutes. But to a Quinn Varanin or anyone else who rubbed shoulders with the Echani would know it for what it was.

A message in return reading as followed: You are not even worth guarding my most vital region for.

The stretch ended and Mercy returned her attention to the show as if nothing had happened.

After all, if Mia didn't know any Echani and she hadn't meant to provoke Mercy to begin with, she wouldn't be able to read anything into the stretch.

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 1 - Observe and Enjoy
Outfit: Dress
Tag: OPEN

Eira had heard about the standards in which Hapan held their views. Beauty above all else. A twisted matriarchal society. Plagued by criminals in the past. Riddled with assassination and Jedi in the present. Though that seemed to be all changing, in her mind, for the better. Now there was the start of a new queen's era and the influence of the Manda'lor and his people. While Eira still held onto suspicion on the Mandalorians, something taken from her Master, Eira was intrigued with how willing this Mandalorian Empire was willing to cooperate with the Sith. She was curious on how the Sith Covenant would find the Mandalorians.

Entering the palace, Eira had chosen a dark burgundy dress that hugged her figure tightly with golden accents that expressed a wealth that she did not hold herself but desired to hold one day. Her hair was styled in the natural curls and freely cascading down her back. The sharp pointed heels clicked against the surface as she walked in a confident stride. Her crimson eyes taking in the scene around her, spotting those in the beskar'gam armour that made her chuckle internally. They wore their armour so much it felt like it was a weakness and a boon, trapping them in a cocoon that made them feel invulnerable but any trained warrior knew exactly how to dismantle.

The Sith apprentice spotted her Master, crowded by Mandalorians, a distasteful sneer formed on her lips. It felt like she was a watching a prisoner trapped between two guards. Eira missed seeing the presence of CT-312 whose presence felt more akin to a shadow ready to strike when needed up allowing Quinn to demonstrate and exercise the beauty she was capturing in the moment. Though Eira also knew that she held her views for more reason than simply distaste for the Mandalorians, Eira had long desired to nurture the connection between steadfast bodyguard and the queen. Perhaps desiring to play out a classic Lady Velvet trope perhaps, but seeing them on their Zinder dates before now planted the seeds deep in her mind.

Eira chose to stay afar from Quinn and the Mandalorians, surrounding herself with some of the members of the Sith Covenant, she was curious to know more about them. They were not a force in the galaxy that seemed to be fading away and she had fought alongside them, so it was only fair that Eira gave these Sith a chance to demonstrate they were as worthy as those within the Sith Covenant for her to embrace as her peers. Before she caught anyone of note to approach and talk with, the bells tolled and the approach of the new queen of Hapes arrived. Eira was curious to see how this queen would be and what to be expected in this new era.

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Tags: Arris Windrun Nilira Vornix Perseus Kurayami Bloodborn Mig Gred Muad Dib​

"Wait!"

Arris’s shout sounded distant as the Jedi’s blue saber crashed against her own, the mirialan’s face set with grim determination as Lily released the restraints on the carefully contained anger that sat in the pit of her stomach. Their blades flashed, Lily barely keeping up with the aggressive strikes pushing her back a glint of something flashed in the Jedi’s eyes, lips turning in a moment of arrogant preemptive triumph.

A heavy overhead strike brought her close, sabers screaming with prolonged contact as they locked.

“I’m sorry.” Lily said softly.

The jedi blinked in surprise and in that split second reaction her saber was no longer pressing against Lily's, the sudden absence of a force to lean against tipping her off balance as Lily appeared behind her, saber sweeping upwards scoring a deep line up the mirialans back. She screamed, saber dropping to the floor tumbling to her knees. Lily could hear the panicked thoughts, the realisation that she had underestimated her opponent, a thousand memories flicking through her mind.

The orange saber flashed again, searing through flesh and bone and removing her head, silencing the noise. Lily watched the body slump one way and the head the other, nausea burning her chest.

"Lily?" Arris called out. A little too calmly given the transpiring events. "Are you there?"

She tore her gaze away and looked at Arris, swearing softly under her breath. Her eyes were gone, a deep scorch mark left in the wake of the apprentices attack. The apprentice lay unmoving, his face unrecognisable.

At least she hadn’t heard him die.

A soft chime from the device on her wrist made her glance down as Nilira Vornix pinged the enclave schematics to them. Lily swallowed, forcing her mind back to the job at hand.

“Yeah.” she answered finally, moving to Arris’s side, saber hissing as it retracted. Lily reached for the cyborg, fingers gently catching her arm.

“I’m right here.”

 

[Arris Windrun]

Lily Rhodes Nilira Vornix Perseus Kurayami Bloodborn Mig Gred Muad Dib
Down & Out
​

Bringing Lily was a mistake.

Arris felt the young woman's fingers on her arm. It wasn't like organic touch. It was more like poking something with a stick. Feeling the resistance, the texture that way.

The cyborg's head turned the apprentice's way, speaking softly. "You can't just block it. That'll only fuck you up later... And besides, don't make the same mistake we all do. Don't lie to yourself. Remember what I said on Sacorria?" She asked.

"No one will ever actually know the complete picture of Lily Rhodes... Or Marr... Except you."

"What you feel - is you."

It didn't take a genius to figure that Lily killed that Jedi. The evidence, or lack thereof, said it all.

The cyborg dropped the revolver in its holster, then rolled her damaged shoulder. Weakened. Badly. But still functional.

Her left would have to do all the work, however. Though if anyone thought that'd stop Arris Windrun, then they didn't see her match against Mercy on Ruusan.

Arris continued to look Lily's way. She still spoke softly. Her hand pointed at the main building. "I am going to head in... and I am going to kill Jedi."

She slipped her arm from Lily's grasp and marched forward.