Diplomacy Revelry in Ravelin | NIO Capital Crowning of Bastion

[Bernard of Arca]

This post brought to you by NJO page claim group

Auteme , Dagon Kaze , Allyson Locke , Vaylin , The Dark Inquisitor , Sergeant Omen , and NJO GANG​

A big day for the Triumvirate called for an even bigger celebration. It seemed the entirety of Bastion had joined together in one massive revelry to commemorate the day the brutal war with the Sith Empire had finally drawn to a close. An appropriate cause for a gathering of this size, for certain. The brief reprieve from the brutality of war would do the galactic powers good, and grant them the much needed time to recover from nearly a decade's worth of fighting. The men and women of the Triumvirate deserved truly it.

However, Bernard had different plans for the evening. While the Triumvirate celebrated their victory, and the New Jedi Order certainly would follow suit, he had several items on the list of outstanding work to be done still. There was no rest for the wicked, and certainly not for a freshly reintegrated Sentinel. He'd spent the days since Krayiss nearly uninterruptedly in deep exercise to reconnect with the Force. Time spent well, it seemed, as his use of the immaterial field of energy had come to be second nature again, but it had left him very little time to truly recover, and his duties for today left even less so.

On the top of his list, was a logistical matter that needed tending to by the Jedi representative in the Senate, Auteme. He'd come as part of her entourage today, but they'd arrived separately, which meant the first step on his journey to get a few documents signing off on would be to find her. A lot of trouble for legal matters that were, in the grand scheme of things, trivialities, but the tedium of bureaucracy spared not even the Jedi, it seemed.

Pushing open the door of the cantina, Bernard was greeted by the immediate smell of alcohol burning his nostrils. The cantina mirrored the rest of the streets, lively and loud. His expression tightened, and he pushed inside.

Finding Auteme in the crowd of people turned out to be easier than expected. Part of him was actually surprised to find her, in her high-heels and rather expensive-looking dress, standing atop the bar exclaiming something about a generous soul with deep pockets. It seemed that soul was Dagon, who stood next to her, attempting to get her off the bar table, as any responsible Padawan of the Order would.

Bernard pushed through the crowd towards them, fishing out the datapad from one of his pouches. He stopped next to Dagon and gave the man a curt nod, then turned to Auteme. He opened his mouth, but was suddenly overcome with the absurdity of the situation, and instead elected to close it again, step to the side, and lean against the bar next to her, resolved to wait until she was done with whatever she was up to. Wouldn't want to interrupt, not like he was in much of a hurry. It'd be a brief breather, until he could get her proper attention, he thought, only feeling a little guilty about the delay in his plans.

 

[The Dark Inquisitor]

Sergeant Omen

Having been at the sidelines of the crowd for a minute or two, Kinhaes was about to give up when a man got two drinks. She stared, a sense of annoyance at the man's shoving in front of her, (so to speak), which then changed into mild surprise. He had a certain energy around him. It was hard to tell what was off about it. It wasn't like everyone else around her, but instead it felt slightly synthetic. Kinhaes was about to speak when she found the man drop something in her hands. Her arms were still belt from resting on the counter, so it was an easy catch. When the helmet landed in her hands, she looked at it for a moment as Sergeant Omen mentioned its noise dampeners and that she might need them.

Taking a second to process what he had said and done, for a second time, Kinhaes held onto the helmet but didn't put it on. The helmet was almost large enough to fit her, but she knew her horns might be a bit uncomfortable within the metal casing. "Thanks, however, I'm not bothered by the noise," Kinhaes started as the two drinks finally arrived, "But being outside might be good." And with that, she took her magenta-colored drink and waited for the soldier to lead. She found her breath almost being caught in her chest again. Kinhaes always loved to be around others. A way of coping with those rather dark days from her past. But, she couldn't linger on that now. Maybe later, when she could voice her thoughts to the vast expanse of the Force during meditation.

 

[Auteme]

Dagon Kaze | Allyson Locke Vaylin The Dark Inquisitor Bernard of Arca Sergeant Omen | tambor's cantina but not gat the other one his fat cousin​

A twinge of frustration twisted her face. She supposed she shouldn't have left so much room for people to answer.

"That's right," she said, calling over the roaring jubilation. Already she worried for her voice -- the Senate chambers had both better acoustics and better equipment, but here she could only use her lungs. Nonetheless she managed to keep the crowd's attention a little longer even as their glasses were filled once more.

"He's generous and kind -- which I'm amazed by every time I see him. Dagon is a Jedi, and much like many of you, he's seen the evils of the Sith first-hand many times before." There were a few nods of assent. Veterans were a majority here. "It's not a burden a young man should bear but he rose to the challenge nonetheless. On Ziost, on Ossus, and on a dozen other worlds against a dozen other threats, this padawan has weathered hardship and tragedy with strength, compassion, and skill -- enough, I should think, that he might be raised to a higher title."

She smiled to him, the sort of smile that was found very rarely in life; one of pure understanding, eternal support, and genuine joy. Her intentions revealed, she extended a hand to him, first to raise him onto the bar, and then...

"Dagon, your saber."

 

[Sergeant Omen]

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TAG: @ The Dark Inquisitor​

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The Clone chuckled softly so only his new acquaintance could hear as he realized his mistake and took the helmet out of her hands so she could carry her drink more securely. Best to hold a drink with two hands, after all, didn't want to spill it on the wrong person. "My mistake, I should have realized in my quest to give you some comfort in this sea of people that you had horns. My damaged mind can be short-sighted like that sometimes..." Seeing that the red-skinned Zabrak was waiting on him, he grabbed his drink and moved through the crowd like a bulldozer, leading her out of this moss pit of people yelling for their drinks to be paid like was promised. Most of them probably wouldn't get their drinks but hopefully, he would get at least a friend if this conversation went alright.​

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The Trooper quickly opened the door to the cantina for her so they both could get out of the confined space. As soon as the door, the ARC exhaled in relief before giving his new acquaintance a smile, hoping his false eye didn't freak her out too much. "Sorry I would offer you a handshake but they both are pretty full right now so lets just sit down." He pulled out her chair with his foot before getting his armored body situated in his own seat. With a smile that pronounced he wasn't here to shoot anyone, he could only ask "I'm guessing you're NJO with those lightsabers and outfit. I'm also guessing that you're probably a Padawan with your age. Since I already know a little bit about you already, I guess I'll introduce myself." With his drink safely stowed on the table, he gave the Zabrak a salute with a smile attached. "ARC Sergeant Omen, 800-year-old clone, and former 41st Elite Corps member. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss...?" Omen studied the person across the table from him as he said his name. It was always fun to see how people reacted to a weird oddity such as him in the far distant galaxy, at least timewise. He only could hope that she didn't take it in a bad way and flip the table onto his armored feet. The out-of-place clone had paid a lot extra just to get a drink for her and it would be a shame to waste them because of a misunderstanding.​

 

[The Dark Inquisitor]

Sergeant Omen Auteme Dagon Kaze

As Sergeant Omen took back his helmet, understanding what would happen if she wore his armour piece, Kinhaes over heard Auteme. She has traveled on one expedition with her, and it was hard to remember the details. She only knew it was some adventure. Moving through the crowd, Kinhaes paid attention to her newer acquaintance. She was speaking of a highly skilled Padawan. Given the name drop of Dagon, she knew it was to give credits where due. It was at the mention of having, "Seen the Evil's of the Sith first-hand many times before," that Kinhaes almost froze in the middle of the crowd. Her mind flashed multiple still shots of her memory. About, THAT day. Shaking her horned head a bit, she continued on, taking a moment to watch Auteme asking him for his saber. Kinhaes knew, this was about to happen. She gave the Clone a bit of a wait, watching from the doorway what Auteme was doing.

After everything inside the cantina was said and done, she joined the Clone outside. A small table and two chairs looked inviting enough. When Omen mentioned how he was unable to shake her hand, Kinhaes was almost tempted to just lift the helmet and drink out of his hand with the force. But, knowing what the mentors she had would scold her for using it so frivolously, she restrained herself to sitting down. The salute did startled her initially, but remembering that he was a soldier, it made sense. Hearing the rank, age and battalion he was in made so much more sense. He was a rather old clone, and with more visual inspection quickly, he did have some hint of age to his face and attitude.

At the question of her name, mixed into his greeting, Kinhaes snapped out of her thoughts. "Kinhaes. Kinhaes Maluibon, Jedi Padawan and member of the NJO, Galactic Alliance and Jedi Order," Kinhaes, giving a slightly more professional expression before smiling again. The clone had given a serious title, so she felt it might be good to cover multiple bases as well. But not her age. Her mother, over holograms always nagged her about still holding herself in the same was she did. That, no matter how much of a strong warrior she became, she should act womanly in certain moments. And age, was a big no no to ask a woman according to her. After her, rather over done introduction to the Clone, she took a sip from her drink. It was refreshing rather than the alcoholic ones the people inside were indulging in.

 

[Orika]

"A B S I N T H E"
Brirne'Orika'Lrizan
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
RAVELIN | BASTION
Kiara Ayres | Irveric Tavlar​

Orika smiled warmly to Kiara, extending her hand and shaking the woman's once firmly, maintaining her hold for a moment. "Orika. It's a pleasure to meet you." She then released her hand, extending it instead to beckoning over a server and taking a champagne flute from his platter before extending it to the woman. There was a very relaxed aura to the Chiss woman, none of the usual cold stiffness was to be found in her actions. Formalities were a tedium she would rather not indulge in, especially when meeting with those of status and rapport.

"Forgive me. I am unsure if your teachings forbid you from such indulgences." She commented softly before turning back to her own drink and setting the empty glass on the platter, giving a nod of thanks to the server before turning back to her. Orika maintained a beautifully placed smile, her tone both kind and inviting.

"Please. He hardly speaks to anyone freely. I am sure it is a welcome change from all the war room talks and diplomacy to speak informally." With a long side-glance to Tavlar, she let out a bit of a sigh, laughing under her breath. "Perhaps you need the champagne more than she does." At that she glanced back to Kiara, giving a small hum. "There is no need for such tension in front of such a beautiful presence, yes?"

Orika's hand idly moved to settle over her waist. There was an idle ease to each motion she made. She was hear to relax, unwind, and perhaps make a few new companions along the way. It had been long since she had been afforded such an opportunity. Due to this simple fact, she entirely omitted her position within the NIO itself. Many secrets had woven into her position and respective mission. Exposing such things before it was time would be entirely detrimental to her purposes. This much in mind, there was no need for her to be anything more than a somewhat lackadaisical civilian who happened to have found a place at Tavlar's side. Best it be left that way.

"On that topic, how does it feel to finally be finished with it? Does victory taste as sweet as you had hoped?" Given, there was more yet to be done, but this would be enough to perhaps speak on something a bit more...positive.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

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Tag: Kinhaes Maluibon​

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"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you Padawan, or may I just call you Kinhaes? I'm also sorry if I stopped you from seeing something special in there..." He had seen the female Zabrak linger at the door before sitting down and he had hoped he hadn't separated her away from her group. He also noted that she didn't talk unless asked something directly, making him always wonder even more about what was going on in that head of hers. "Omen is my first and only name if you want to go on a first-name basis." With a raised eyebrow he asked the all-important question. "I'm guessing you came here to get out of "Moving objects with your mind" class since you aren't here with a Master." He rubbed two of his fingers together towards her in the universal "Shame on you sign" as he shook his head, his voice making a joking tut-tut-tut sound school teachers make when a student is late or is worthy of getting detention. This was all in jest, of course, he didn't mind the Padawan exploring the real world instead of a textbook, it was better to learn that way in his opinion. He had done the same thing by being deployed and actively getting fired at during the Clone Wars. Learning on the job was what a soldier did, it was the only way to learn. Combat sims only got you so far, only through the real blasterfire and smoke of a battlefield could you learn the ropes of tactics and warfare. And if the soldier didn't learn? Well he wouldn't be a soldier, he would be a dead husk in a grave by nightfall of his first combat. "I don't blame you for skipping out, of course, seeing the real world for yourself is always more interesting than looking at a textbook's pictures." Time to get down to the "what should I know about you?" questions... "May I ask what world you are from?"​

 

[Vaylin]

Location: Tambor's Cantina
Interacting With: Allyson Locke
Nearby: Dagon Kaze | Auteme | Kolson Vrask | Sephi Karneh | Sergeant Omen | Eira Dwynwen | Bernard of Arca | The Dark Inquisitor
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The Zabrak let out an annoyed huff upon realizing she hadn’t managed to surprise Allyson. Albeit, it wasn’t the most shocking revelation. The Corellian’s trade did involve being sneaky, and finding other sneaky people.

And suffice to say, Vaylin wasn’t exactly a master of being stealthy.

She let out a mirthless chuckle at Allyson’s cynical comment. “I don’t think either of us remember how to not be cynical. Seen too much chit, been through hell.” Vaylin pulled her hood back a bit, giving herself an easier time to glance around. She immediately grabbed her glass when the bartender returned, not hesitating to take a sip seconds later.

“This helps though, it's been a long while since I’ve tasted something like this.”

Vaylin looked out at those that had gathered, a mix of the regular rabble and more animated individuals that had either paired off or grouped together. The Zabrak glanced back as Allyson spoke, purple eyes rolling in response.

“No, no, and you wish.” There was however, the smallest of smirks on her face.

She looked around again, this time returning to Auteme as the young woman grabbed the attention of those around her. Vaylin laughed quietly, shaking her head.

“This reminds me of when I was young-er. When times were simple and all I was concerned with at the time, was trying to not fall off the table I was dancing and drinking atop of.” Again, a faint smile formed as the Zabrak was reminded of those memories. Though she did glance at Allyson, knowing the Corellian would be looking.

“Yes, Allyson. There was indeed a time when I was normal, regular ol’ person just enjoying life.”

 

[Tyrell Lockhart]

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

Tags: Willan Tal , DECEASED Erskine Barran , FN-999

Earlier today...

The streets of Ravelin were alive with celebration as the DI took position within the parade. Tyrell would have never imagined that they would be here. Not only was the war over, but they had secured enough recognition to be included in the ceremony. It gave the DI a certain level of validation in their cause, for today was not only for the glorious leaders of the NIO... it was for all. The Devils of Dunwall had only been on the front proper for a few months, with their first real engagement being Csilla. And yet, here they were, marching in line with those that had proven themselves time and again, throwing themselves upon the lines of the Sith more times than one could count. To be present among such giants was enough to bring a renewed vigor to the DI. As for Tyrell, he took comfort in the fact that they were in good company.

As the Dunwall Irregulars prepped for the parade, Tyrell took a moment to walk among them, acknowledging each as he made his way to the front of the troop.

"Look lads! We may be a long way from Dunwall, and may be a bit off from returning home, but by Tal, we are still here!"

A growing cheer from the men was met with a smile from Tyrell.

"Look around! Do ya see our company? You lot are not regs. Yer just a band of the bravest souls I've ever 'ad the pleasure to serve beside. You lot represent everything a free Galidraan stands for. And make no mistake... so long as we are 'ere, Galidraan will be free! Now come with me and share this bliss! Let us walk the streets as those that 'ave fought before us. Let us share our joy with those that are no longer here to do so! For Galidraan!"

The cacophonous roar of the Devils rang across the ranks of the parade, and with those last words, they marched. They didn't march as the regs did, nor did they need to. Their presence was a representation of everything the NIO stood for. It was the regular man, the brave soul that dared to look into the eyes of the Sith and say 'no more'. They were the common man, those that the NIO had bled and died for. Despite all of the odds, they had persevered, survived, and even thrived. Today would be a celebration of not only themselves, but the countless fallen whose sacrifices had allowed for this day of merriment. It was because of them that they had lived, so for them, they would march.

Present...

Tyrell found his way to the great Library of Ravelin, a place known for its extensive lexicon of military history from the perspective of the NIO. Tyrell had taken some time to partake in the revelry with his men, but in the end, he sought the wonder and solace to be had within the library's halls. He would forever be connected to the brave members of the DI, but he would allow himself time to get acquainted with the movement that was so much larger than just them.

As Tyrell walked through the library, he ran his hands along the endless sea of tomes that covered the halls. Each book was a testament to those that had come before him. Each entry was another look into the lives of those that had given so much to the cause. It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. Tyrell had often gotten lost in the fight, focusing on the next plan... the next objective... and in that, he would sometimes lose himself. He almost found himself drifting deep into the crevices of his own mind... until he heard a familiar voice.

'Nines! I should've known you'd prefer bein' here, lad.'

Tyrell's heart filled with comfort hearing the wild leader of the Blue Hearts. And to top it off, the man that had coordinated the defense in the trenches was here as well. The two of them had become important figures in Tyrell's mind. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears shared between them on Csilla alone was enough to fill an entire book within the library. The honor of serving beside such titans was not lost on Tyrell. There were few that would understand the bonds that fellow soldiers shared; it was something that could not be broken, no matter the time nor space apart. To bleed on the battlefield was to become blood brothers, mutually giving all they had just to win the day.

Tyrell cracked a smile as he approached the pair, giving Erskine a resounding pat on the shoulder as he moved to his side.

"Ey there, ya Blue Hearted devil! Good to see ya made it 'ere in one piece."

He shot a look over to Nines, providing an incredibly casual salute to the man.

"And you... ya know, yer brains kept a lot o' my lads alive. Good to see ya 'ere as well, Nines. The DI owe a lot, to both of ya."

He produced his ever-present flask from his inner jacket pocket, cracking it open and offering it to them.

"That good Dunwall rye, reserved for only the best!"

He gave a wink to them both as he offered them a drink. He may have said it in partial jest, but beneath all of his bravado was a strong respect that could not be put into words.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
RAVELIN | BASTION
Kiara Ayres | Orika | Ryv | Willan Tal | Mithrad

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Even after the approach of the Grandmaster Ayres, Orika's voice and presence demanded his attention for a brief moment, arching a brow to her remarks before taking another draw from his cigara in faint acknowledgement of her words. Orika was still mcuh of an enigma to the Imperator- but the lengths she'd already gone to in pursuit of the Empire's enemies had already proven her a trust worthy asset in spite of troubled origins. A confidant of sort- filling a void long left dormant through a very perilous period of Irveric's life and tenure as Imperator. Though even still- it was something he was content to keep private, not to take any eyes away from the general celebration around them. Even as much as he enjoyed the sight of her- his focus was still intent on the Grandmaster.

"I appreciate the flattery but hardly any of this is my labor but I can certainly pass your thanks to those who deserve it. It's all theirs to enjoy. My role was a singular, small part to play in their effort." Tavlar says, relinquishing the glory to the Empire as a whole rather than solely unto him. Perhaps that was what set his New Order aside from the Galactic Empires of ages past. The war was for them, not for him.

But as much as he might've cherished to prod the mind of the Grandmaster more- another individual caught his attention just as she introduced herself to the blue beauty at his side.

Karis.

He'd not seen the boy- nay, the man- in what felt like years. He was a welcome sight. He immediately motioned for the Nova Troopers nearby to let him through as he ashed his cigar out nearby.

"Karis." He uttered, reaching his cybernetic hand out to take Ryv's right hand and now- sole hand into his own, grasping the Jedi's forearm before pulling him close. In spite of their deep ideological differences, he held a deep respect for the Jedi- had since Mandalore, what felt like ages ago.

"You look like you've seen worse than I have, boy." A moniker which was hardly fit to describe the Jedi.

"Reports of your presence anywhere ran cold and yet here you reappear. I'm glad. The troopers who served alongside you- through the entirety of this war had nothing short of greatness to describe you. I'm not sure Bastion is as it is now without you. But the Galaxy has not been kind to you- what has seized the Sword of the Jedi's attention?" He asked.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

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TAG: @ Tyrell Lockhart , FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran​

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-A couple of hours after the events at the cantina-​

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Omen took his helmet off as he entered the library, on a mission for knowledge of the galaxy around him that he couldn't get on the holo news. Since he always had a slight interest in the wheels of politics and military history, he thought he might try his luck and see if he could scrounge up any information that might help him further his goals. Plus, he always needed new talking points to talk with strangers with and his breakout on Denon wasn't a good conversation starter. He decided to start by picking out a book on the Galatic Empire 800 years ago, relatively soon after his capture and freezing.​

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The ARC learned about how Palpatine had shut down the democracy he had once and created a total dictatorship in his own image. With a shrug, he couldn't find it that hard to believe that Palpatine had maneuvered himself into the galactic driving seat. He was egotistical and very much for the galaxy to know and either worship or more likey dread his name and being a Sith made it possible for him to get all of his personal goals out of the way. Either way, dictatorships are always more like to fall than Democracies are from the inside so it was no surprise when the Empire finally fell at Endor after 20 years at the helm by the Rebel Alliance compared to the Galatic Republics thousand-year rain. Probably something that he didn't want to talk about with NIO leadership if he got to meet them.​

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Just when he was getting into the Aftermath of the Battle of Endor and the events surrounding that time when he heard talking on the other side of the shelf. After a short period of time during which he strained to listen as two voices began three, he decided to pluck a book out on their side of the shelf and see what was going on. To his surprise, he spied two officers one he thought was a brigade general with the amount of ordination he had on his blue uniform and with the other officer's rank a mystery. He also saw what looked to be a stormtrooper (at the rank of Captain maybe based on his pauldron) from the pictures in the book he just read. The three were starting their hellos to one another after what must have been a very long deployment where they must have served with one another during. Maybe if I... Nerf it, if they don't like me I'll just leave but standing here isn't getting me anything in the way of contacts. I might as well introduce myself.​

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After taking a deep breath and preparing himself, the living history piece walked around the corner and waved hello to the three men "Hi, is this where the old soldier's book club is supposed to meet?" The ARC trooper unhooked his canteen and sloshed it around for them to hear the sample Tihaar he had come up with for the Great Hunt contest on Mandalore. "I have my membership fee ready." He had made the Tihaar with Bellfruit from Belsavis and Wasaka berries from Kashyyyk, the capital of the Silver Jedi itself. Both fruits were supposed to give the drink an initial sour punch before turning sweet in the victim's... the drinker's mouth. He made titled it "The Spirit of the Mandalorian Warrior" since Mandalorians are often abrasive and sour when you first meet them but very sweet after they got to know you some. Hopefully, they would accept a sip if they didn't think he had poisoned it and he would see if the drink was a go or if he would have to start over from scratch, something he was not looking forward to.​

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[The Dark Inquisitor]

Sergeant Omen

Sitting down and watching the world go by was a great feeling. More so with a new ally beside her. With the Clone apologizing for causing her to walk out when something was happening, Kinhaes shook her head slowly. "It's fine. I'll go through my own one of those one day," Kinhaes said, her voice almost as if she was talking about a wonderful dream she had that baffled her more reasonable mind. It was always her dream of becoming a true Jedi. However, she always had some worries. Her mentors kept telling her that she should keep to her role as a Jedi, and not go off the path in any way. She had questioned this many times before, but found herself only subconsciously doing so now.

When Oman told her his name, asking if first name basis was appropriate for her, she gave a nod. "Going by first names is best when out of battle," Kinhaes said, as she remembered watching wars and battles from years ago; focusing on the many ways of war and conflict that they surrounded themselves in. It was strange. She felt a pull to be in those battles. but knew as a Padawan she didn't have a hope. Omen's follow up comment on her being out here to skip a class almost made her chuckle, before he mentioned the word, 'Master'. Kinhaes' face slightly froze before she relaxed it again. That same image in her head again. Her left hand, unknown to her, began to shake slightly. Not furiously, but very slightly, as if holding your hand flat and open to see if you had a shaky hand.

Her mind forced her to stay in the present, the memories wanting the exact opposite. she knew she'd have to meditate later to try and remedy this again. As Omen talked about seeing the world in person, rather than through a book, Kinhaes listened. Her face was still, as she took another sip from her drink. The Clone's question about her home planet brought her back to reality. "I'm from Iridonia, from a smaller tribe with my parents. Till I was sent to a Jedi temple elsewhere," Kinhaes said, remembering the very early start she was given to become a Jedi, starting her training around 4, maybe 5 even. It was hard to remember. "I don't really remember what age I was when I left. It's hard to keep that in your head during everything," she said, looking at her drink before moving her gaze to the Clone. "What about you? Were you a Kamino Clone?" Kinhaes asked, her mind giving a small flash to the very fateful record about the ancient Clone Wars, and its bloody end.

 

[Ryv]

It was still strange to think Ryv had become a man worth knowing to someone like the Sovereign-Imperator. Compared to Wyatt or Cedric, Ryv lacked the political savvy necessary to maintain a distinguished persona. He most certainly failed to meet the standards of the traditional Jedi, which only further set him apart from his kin. Maybe that had something to do with why he managed to get along so well with so many people. The kiffar was an honest man. He wore his heart on his sleeve and stuck to his guns no matter the situation. He was unapologetically himself through it all, even if it became a burden to make these appearances.

Ryv met the Imperator's gaze with a knowing look. He reached out and grasped the old general's forearm with a sense of familiarity only found in those who knew the horrors of what they'd done. What they'd seen.

"I've been following a lead on the Maw," Ryv admitted, his gaze momentarily shifting from the Sovereign to his company. The blue-skinned woman did not outright surprise the Jedi. Someone of her caliber was bound to make their way to Tavlar's side at some point. It only made sense for a Chiss to be that person.

The other Jedi was certainly a surprise. Few could stomach the New Empire's Sovereign-Imperator. Even fewer earned the old man's respect.

Ryv's attention fell back onto Tavlar as he took his hand back. "Considering what happened to Csilla, I've theorized the Maw's agents have infiltrated other galactic superpowers. They're tactically inferior to the forces of the New Empire and the Alliance, and their forces, while many, are poorly trained and rarely armed to handle the might of the Triumvirate."

His hand fell beneath his poncho where he withdrew a small holodevice no larger than his palm. With a flick of his thumb, the device whirred to life. A Sith Lord sprung into view. A hood obscured his features, but he appeared much the part of a Dark Lord more in line with the ways of Sidious than Krayyt.

"I've crossed paths with this one once but," Ryv watched the rotating image with an intensity not uncommon for the Sword of the Jedi. "He is their Voice. He speaks for whatever dark god the Cult of the Maw serves, which makes him, arguably, the most dangerous man in the galaxy," he returned the device to its place somewhere beneath the folds of his cloak. "He's not a slavering idiot like his followers, either. When we crossed blades, well, I recognized his strength. His pain was unlike anything I'd felt before."

He looked off momentarily, eyes locked on some distant point that only the kiffar could make out.

"I believe their reach extends beyond their borders into all known sectors of space. New Imperial, Alliance, Concords, etc."

Irveric Tavlar | Kiara Ayres | Orika | Willan Tal | Mithrad ​

 

[Enedina Tal]

Roselina Tal | open to interaction| location: Ravelin

"No, it's not torture, but i-"

Any little objection swiftly silenced as the taller Tal girl was whisked away Roselina toward the drinks tables; for someone shorter than Enedina, she certainly possessed the sass and bravery. She followed Roselina through the crowds of Imperials and other foreign dignitaries, occasionally stopping to acknowledge familiar faces, both Galidraani and non Galidraani Imperial, before being dragged off by her younger sister. All the military training and combat experience in the world couldn't save Enedina from Roselina's extroverted personality. In some way, she greatly admired the change she saw in her younger sister; Willan and Enedina had left Roselina a scared fragile girl, and for all her challenges and problems, Rose had come out of it a strong woman who knew how to talk and get what she wanted. She mused on what father thought of the younger sister, but like most opinions father had it was a mystery to her.


Enedina leant against the drinks table and glossed over what was available to have; Rose seemed to have no qualms or patience even and downed a cup before Enedina could even barely set her eyes on the drink trays. She suppressed a laugh and raised her eyebrow in bemusement at her, picking up her own cup and looking around to make sure no Galidraani's were watching before downing it herself.

"I guess that make's the two of us then."​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

NJO GANG GANG |

'S CANTINA​

Dagon caught Bernard's emergence from the booze-thirsty crowd and returned his nod; his glance lingered longer over his white-haired friend recalling their last encounter. Krayiss II. Much could be said about what transpired then and it still wouldn't be enough. They had come out of it alive but not unscathed. What burdens both had left behind back on the cursed soil of the Sith world were merely replaced by new ones. Ones rising from the Unknown Regions in symbiosis with the growing darkness within their home in the Core. Maybe both really had to just indulge in the celebrations today, forget about everything just for a minute; even if it meant conceding to Auteme's foolery.

Which, despite him trying to pull her down from the bar, was a breath of fresh air; something they had forgotten to draw for a long time now. It brought back memories before the war, when they all only carried themselves with the lightness of innocence, unburdened. Blissfully lost in that brief lapse of time, an honest and joyful smile shone on his face as he looked up at Auteme.

"Dagon, your saber." ​

The padawan's eyes grew wide assimilating what was bound to occur, then he took her hand and climbed up on the bar almost hitting his head on the ceiling. He unclipped the silver cylinder from his belt and handed it to the Shield of the Jedi.

On the New Imperials' capital, in a seedy cantina.. you couldn't make it more New Jedi than this.

The leather jackets were only the start.

Auteme | Allyson Locke | Vaylin | Kolson Vrask | Sephi Karneh | Vaylin | The Dark Inquisitor | Bernard of Arca | Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

TAG: The Dark Inquisitor

Omen’s mind chuckled as he watched the Padawan move through her dream state. He guessed she was more of a thinker than a talker then, pity that they hadn’t made devices that translated thoughts into words this far in the future. He would really like to put one up to this girl’s head. “I’m sure you will, you probably are a better fighter with those sabers than I could ever be. Even though those days seem a long way away, they might hit you in the face faster than you expect.” Maybe she was questioning her role as a Jedi with that rather cute scrunched-up forehead of hers. Not like he wouldn’t, being a Jedi was one with many distractions and off-ramps, it was easy to be distracted from the main goal but it was her life to choose what to do, whether that be a Jedi or something else. He could only say “I know being a Jedi is a hard road and others may peer pressure you into walking it but you only have one life. Everyone is different and some Jedi are better in their own way. The path to being a Knight shouldn’t stop you from your other goals” A hand movement gestures for her to explain her goals for changing this galaxy but maybe she was a little bit too distracted to see them.

He grinned as he gave a nod at her acceptance of the first name basis. Made him feel a little easier like he wasn’t running into a minefield like he did when he was talking to other Jedi back on Kashyyyk. “Well hopefully, we don’t have to go to battle together and definitely not against each other soon. And if we do go to battle, hopefully it is for something that counts for something.” He had reached for his glass to take his first sip when he sensed something wrong. The glass was vibrating and when he looked across at the Padawan, he could see her hand shaking just so slightly. No normal person would pick it up but he wasn’t exactly normal now was he. She clearly was troubled by something and all the clone could do was put his hand onto hers, to reassure her that everything in the world was okay just for a split second. “Its okay, burc'ya, you got a friend here”

He quietly took his hand back when she seemed to be a little better, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable, and listened as she told the Clone where she was from. “Sounds like fun being from a small community where everyone knows everyone. Do you still have contact with them?” He knew the Jedi back in his day usually didn’t even know their birth parents let alone their whole families as they were handed over or “stolen” in many cases but he was curious about what the new policies of the Jedi were. It was nice to have more information about something like the NJO’s practices and compare them to the SJO later on. It helped everything make sense on a galactic scale. “And yes, tank bred and live-fire raised by the kaminii. It was a very fun childhood having to disable bombs at the clone age of 7.” He glanced away from her, hoping that she didn’t feel pity for him. His life back then was not what he wanted to remember but he had wanted to build a new life and he was paving over those old memories one by one. The good memories would outnumber the bad ones soon he hoped, he just had to give it a little more time. Meeting Kinhaes was definitely one of the good ones and he looked forward to making more with her.​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

3
THE_WOAD

Tyrell Lockhart FN-999 Sergeant Omen

Military-History Wing
The Great Imperial Library, Ravelin City
Bastion, 867 ABY​

'Ey there, ya Blue Hearted devil! Good to see ya made it 'ere in one piece.'

'Ahaaa! Well, if it isn't the legendary Devil One in the flesh!', Erskine started, half-startled to the point of half-jumping out his seat to facilitate the more-formal introductions between his war-buddies. To see Northern-Galidraan's wildest scion show up at a place like the Great Imperial Library was something the Stormchaser never anticipated, but as Lockhart offered his casual fist-over-heart salute to Nines in particular, the Lord-Commander began to understand what sort of factors drove the DIs' commander to fight with such ferocity; Barran began to understand something profound to the Devil of Dunwall in that moment, realizing that it wasn't just the unhinged rage in the face of certain death, there was something quite beautiful burning in the man's heart also, a burning will to live the best stories to tell, let alone read them. The Woad had deep respect for both the man and his exploits, and quite evidently so in the way Barran introduced him, drawling,'Nines, meet Tyrell Lockhart, commander of the Dunwall Irregulars.... An' quite the juggernaut in his own right, you'd do well to find this one in the field for sure.', as Lockhart shook hands with the Lieutenant-Legion Commander.

'And you... ya know, yer brains kept a lot o' my lads alive. Good to see ya 'ere as well, Nines. The DI owe a lot, to both of ya.'

Both Nines and Lord Erskine understood the reference to Csilla straight away, with eyes widening in recognition before the solemn nods of recognition and humbled affirmation. For some, the struggle for the trenchline mountain would be easier than the rest, and both FN-999 and Barran knew they'd had an easier time of it than those who'd chosen to hold the alliance's first and second defensive lines, silently bidding their mutual war-buddy take a seat at the reading table as the exalted ones patiently returned to their own. The efforts to rescue the Chiss from the planet needed all three of their efforts, among a whole host of others in order to succeed, but even the Stormchaser and FN-999 understood Lockhart's rotten luck of the draw on that day; but they also respected his steely resolve to fight it out to the bitter end, helping the Brigadier-General remember exactly why he ordered Alais Kaun to pull Lockhart into the Saga in the first place.
The progeny of Ulrand, helping a Dunwaller.... The wonders seem persistent as far as Galidraan is concerned.

'You did well on Csilla, especially at the overran fallback trench. Now that's a scrap I won't soon forget. You, me, Julian Qar and Alais Kaun - against a wall-to-wall mob o' marauders an' moon-children.... And I wouldn't have it any other way, mate.'

Reaching for the whiskey bottle at his feet, Lord Erskine cared not for decorum in his quiet place of serenity, as he was in good company, and with men who cared little for anything close to polite pageantry. The act of grabbing the bottle from his feet and setting it on the table then prompted Lockhart to reach into his coat-pocket for his toasting drink of choice, kindly bringing it out and offering it to one or the other as he boasted,'That good Dunwall rye, reserved for only the best!', in kindly jest, though Erskine and Tyrell both knew it tasted (and kicked) much better than Corellian whiskey, and by a country mile. They would laugh together knowing their quiet trips to the library had become an exclusive gathering of sorts, all three would toast to each other's good health as the little drinking session finally got underway, with bottle and hipflask being passed often to the Lieutenant-Legion Commander in the process.

'Better than most of the swill that passes for whiskey these days, an' then some. Give it a try, Nines. Trust when I say that you'll consider seeking it out for yourself after trying it. Even I've gotten a couple bottles of it since, still keep some at home on- well, Archais won't be home for much longer anyways.... Soon, Lockhart.'

However, with all those who'd known each other beforehand having arrived and joined in on the festivities, it would only be a matter of time before a fresh face arrived on the scene, and one the trio would consider polite and prepared for the occasion before long. Interrupting a momentary silence, the new addition would make good use of the lull in conversation to say,'Hi, is this where the old soldier's book club is supposed to meet?', with a polite tone, and a decent jesting attitude to boot. Receiving warmth and laughter in reply, it looked as if the young Arc-Trooper Sergeant's place at the reading table was all but set by the time he closed his introduction, proffering,'I have my membership fee ready.', whilst bringing out his own choice of beverage, presenting it in plain sight of the others. Though there was another trooper archetype in the room, none would recognise the bottle or the inebriating nectar within, yet their curiosity would take hold, only serving to add to their reasons for letting the man stay.

'Then grab yersel a seat o'er here, lad! An' rest assured you're in good company, especially now we know you've brought your own bottle for the occasion!.... So anyways, Sergeant. What's your name, an' what's your story?'

 

[Sergeant Omen]

​

​

TAG: @ Tyrell Lockhart , FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran​

"Then grab yersel a seat o'er here, lad! An' rest assured you're in good company, especially now we know you've brought your own bottle for the occasion!.... So anyways, Sergeant. What's your name, an' what's your story?'"​

​

Were those words even basic? The Clone had a hard time trying to decipher the blue-uniformed officer's accent that sounded like how a drunk Weequay pirate would talk when he left an underworld bar after a drink or ten. Well, at least he wasn't being stabbed with a ceremonial vibrosword, that was always a plus. He sat the bottle of Tihaar on the table and turned the chair so he could rest his hands on the chair's sturdy back. With a gesture to the bottle, he explained the contents. "Just Mando moonshine that I made a sample of for a contest coming up. I hope you find it agreeable so I don't have to make another batch." A small chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the other three men. With his old armor, he sure was the odd man out but they were all soldiers so hopefully, they understood him better than the Jedi back on Kashyyyk did. "And don't worry, I know better than to poison three members of one of the most powerful military in this galaxy just after they won a war and have my ancestral planet as part of their territory." ​

​

He did wonder if they knew what the NIO would do to Mandalore, whether they would keep a presence on the planet just to probably be forced out again when the Mandos ganged up on them or just leave the planet to its own devices. Hopefully, it was the latter, this galaxy needed less war and more understanding but of course, the decision was out of their simple soldier hands and it probably wasn't good to ask NIO officers for what was probably confidential information on their first meeting. He closed his eyes for a few moments, selecting which parts of his story he wanted to talk about and what he wanted to leave in his vault his memories before starting up again with his story.​

​

"Names Omen, I'm a former ARC Trooper attached to the 41st Elite Corps GAR. I specialize in sniper ops, demolitions, and communications. As for my story, it tends to be a little long so stick with me, When I was first deployed during the Clone Wars, I was an EOD trooper until a building blew up and fell on me, my limbs and right eye having to be removed after being crushed and pierced through respectively. Thanks to some Mando trainers, instead of dumping me into a trash can the Kamino cloners gave me new limbs and put me to work as an ARC trooper. From here, I battled with the 41st, battling the CIS of that time and training the locals to fight for themselves. That all ended when Trandshoan slavers captured me on Kashyyyk and decided to make me into a carbonite trophy. Apparently, the slavers abandoned the ship between Kashyyyk and their home planet for whatever reason, leaving it adrift in space. 800 years later, two SJC padawans found the ship with me frozen in it and freed me. I've been bumping around the galaxy as a shipper in that same slaver ship for the SJC since." ​

​

'As for my more recent activities..." The clone pondered a moment, his brain censoring info in his head again. He probably couldn't tell them about the op with Omega and definitely not the Denon episode but the action in the ruins of Csilla was fair game. "Probably the most I've done for the cause of the Anti-Sith agreement is blowing a few holes in the Maw Dreadnaught "Fatalis" in the aftermath of Csilla. It was pretty much just trying to do as much damage as I could with my ship before the dreadnaught got away, dodging point defense laser fire as I faced down an entire Maw fleet alone while the SJC and FO ships stayed back and let me have all the fun. That is pretty much is it for the action report. I've mostly been focusing on meeting interesting people like yourselves to try to get myself back into the swing of things. I guess it your alls turn to go through the "Who am I and what have I been shooting lately" questionnaire." As he waited for the three men to answer, he unscrewed the bottle of Mando mash in case anyone wanted to try it though the trooper himself planned on staying sober for now. He bet the three men would have a lot to say and he wanted to say coherent for all of it.[/JUSTIFY]​

 

[Roselina Tal]

Tags: Enedina Tal | Open
Location: Ravelin

​

Spoiler: The Story

Roselina Tal | open to interaction| location: Ravelin





Another celebration. They all seemed to come at once like a deluge in the days and weeks following the near-total collapse of the western Sith empires forces, and as much as she loathed parties and pretending to possess social skills, secretly, she was glad that it was mostly all over. Three years of total war and endless days spent on the campaign took it out of her, and she had lost too many comrades, friends and fellow Galidraani's to get to this point. Flanked by her sister as the pair made their way into the main celebration hall, a tight grip of anxiety coiled in her stomach as she looked around the room and back at her sister. At least she had the privilege of not losing someone of her own blood; many in the common Galidraani soldiery and even the nobility had embraced such brutal losses over the past years. Parents, siblings and children of many an esteemed noble house perished on half a dozen battlefields so far away from home, even her fathers larger than life colleague General Barran had suffered losses of his own at Ziost. She sometimes questioned if the human cost of Galidraans struggle would be realised in this lifetime, or be merely shuttled away and glorified for another party propaganda poster celebrating 'patriotic martyrs'.


The two sisters could not be more starkly different in attire and attitudes, Enedina opted to dress in the formal attire of the Galidraani officer core, and her sister opted for a look perhaps more fitting to a social setting. Looking like a peacock with too many medals and gold seemed to be the national pastime of the male nobility in the Galidraani army, and never had she felt out of place than she did among this obscenely decorated gang of her father's generals. Enedina wondered how Erskine Barran could walkabout with the dozens of medals stamped on his coat, and the elderly Galidraani general had so many awards and accolades that she was surprised the Barran Patriarch still found space on his jacket for more.

"Shall we make ourselves acquainted then sis?" she asked pensively to Roselina, Enedina had been in many firefights and conflicts but the social battleground still terrified her the most. ​

Tags: Enedina Tal | Open
Location: Ravelin





Roselina looked up to find Enedina pursing her lips like she had tasted a lemon. She frowned and threaded their arms together. "Honestly, the way you're acting you'd think this was torture." Her elder sister had always been serious , but dour? Roselina was beginning to wonder if she recognized the sibling at all.

She shoved this away and masked tension with a delicate laugh. "Let us start with a drink, then." Something told her they were going to need it.

She led Enedina through the crowd, her heels giving her several inches to her already small frame. She could see eye to eye with many of those around her now. She moved with grace that hinted to the hours she had put into events just like this. While her sister and father bled on the battlefield, she had done her best to ensure that support and sympathy remained on the cause.

Whatever it was.

Honestly, she hardly cared. She was more concern with how these wars affected those around her than distant wars. But here they were, safe and alive. Things were moving to be over; she hoped they would see what she done for them behind the scenes. A girl could dream. She'd settle for greeting from her father tonight.

"Ah, here we are." She plucked up two glasses and silently handed one over. Manners were left behind as she tipped hers back in one go. She grimaced past the burn and gasped for breath.

"Better, yes?" She put her empty flute down and grabbed another.

For sipping this time.



​

​

​

Roselina Tal | open to interaction| location: Ravelin

"No, it's not torture, but i-"

Any little objection swiftly silenced as the taller Tal girl was whisked away Roselina toward the drinks tables; for someone shorter than Enedina, she certainly possessed the sass and bravery. She followed Roselina through the crowds of Imperials and other foreign dignitaries, occasionally stopping to acknowledge familiar faces, both Galidraani and non Galidraani Imperial, before being dragged off by her younger sister. All the military training and combat experience in the world couldn't save Enedina from Roselina's extroverted personality. In some way, she greatly admired the change she saw in her younger sister; Willan and Enedina had left Roselina a scared fragile girl, and for all her challenges and problems, Rose had come out of it a strong woman who knew how to talk and get what she wanted. She mused on what father thought of the younger sister, but like most opinions father had it was a mystery to her.


Enedina leant against the drinks table and glossed over what was available to have; Rose seemed to have no qualms or patience even and downed a cup before Enedina could even barely set her eyes on the drink trays. She suppressed a laugh and raised her eyebrow in bemusement at her, picking up her own cup and looking around to make sure no Galidraani's were watching before downing it herself.

"I guess that make's the two of us then."​

​

​

"That's my girl," Roselina encouraged, as if she was the one in charge of their affairs. She turned from the table and took the chance to finally skim the room. There were many familiar faces, married by scars or new frown lines not unlike Enedina's own. She understood why her people participated in this war. She understood the value of the freedom they now had.

She just didn't like the cost.

For every face she recognized, two others couldn't be found.

The sounds of the celebration blended into white noise. She usually enjoyed moments like this, but it was hard to shake the odd energy in the room. Maybe Enedina was rubbing off on her after all. She took a ginger sip of the glass.

"What do you think it will be like? Home. ... I know its silly, but sometimes I wonder... would I recognize our front door if it stood right there," she gestured before them, painting an image in the air. She considered the space, her head tilting as she tried to fill an image of it up from memory. She sighed, releasing the effort with a delicate shrug.

"We were so young when we left."

It was hard to tell if she was bitter or burdened. Perhaps they were one in the same.

"We should find you someone to dance," she chirped abruptly, trying to shatter the moment before Enedina could truly respond.

 

[The Dark Inquisitor]

Sergeant Omen

As she sat on the chair, Kinhaes' mind wandered. Omen was a great person and she knew that. When he said that he hoped she ascended to Knight sooner than she thought her mind rang with joy and pride. He believed in her skills and chances of becoming a knight. But, his comments on how being a Jedi or even a Knight of the Jedi Order shouldn't come before other goals go the her. In a way, he was right. She always wanted to be a Jedi, even a Knight one day; however, she did have some goals that were against the code she was being taught by her mentors. It wasn't like any of them had to follow it, but rather it was to help train her discipline. But, that didn't stop those before her original master from drilling that in with conviction. She wanted to be happy. To hopefully, one day, find someone. Settle down, and who know what else. But she knew her role as a Jedi was a part in this grand galaxy of turmoil and war. "Yeah, I've got plans, but being a Jedi for know comes first," Kinhaes said, her head nodding slightly as she tried to reaffirm this in her mind.

The hope had had that they would fight together for a great cause was a comfort. Even as a soldier, he was driven to make allies of his allies. The kind gesture of his hand on hers was a definite comfort, but it only pushed the slight distraction into her mind. She could see it happen again. It wasn't anything like, trauma, or anything like that. It was more akin to deep grief and fear. It was a part of her mind and thoughts. She couldn't un-see it. Her master always taught her to never kill, simply disarm or knock down and out. What happened that day, was the first time she saw death.

Kinhaes moved her hand to her drink when she talked of her home. Of joining the Jedi Order and starting her life as a Jedi Youngling. She remembered the first lesson. Emotional control. She still remembered how she unknowingly lifted a small pile of rocks when she was at her first lesson in the field. She was so surprised. Even the mentors were. Hearing that Omen asked if she had contact with her parents, Kinhaes paused. She hadn't contacted them recently. It had been, what, a year or two since she last contacted them. Due to her training, she was unable to visit, but it was an emotional conversation never the less. "No, I haven't talked with them in a while," Kinhaes said, taking a sip from her drink.

Her follow up question about the Clone's place to call home was a standard thing she did when meeting a new person. But the response that he was a Clone from Kamino, got her mind thinking. Suddenly, the image of her most fearful day shot into her mind. The force around her grew scared, unstable and full of anxiousness. Even those inside would feel it. "You said you from Kanimo. Does that mean you have the..." She gave Omen a slight side eye before tapping the right side of her forehead. It was fairly clear what she was asking. Any Clone or person who knew their history would guys she was talking about the very thing that caused the older wars to end horribly for the Order. Her face looked like it was a general question, but her mind and energy, conveyed anxiousness. The reports of the many killed and even the longs of what happened due to events being discovered decades later on had wormed their way into her mind. She just had to know.