Sleep, No More

[Paragon of Virtue]

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Geonosis: Golbah City [Vanguard of Polaris] ​

Conference Room: Desert Rose [6th Floor]​

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To the majority of the people on Geonosis it was just another day. The sun beat down unrelentingly while the extreme, dry heat, was mostly mitigated by an impressive habitation sphere. Similar technology that governed the weather on Coruscant had also been applied to the bustling Capital of the Confederacy. The fact that such a barren world had become a successful, lively metropolis, spoke volumes about the effort and dedication that had gone in to raising skyscrapers from the dirt.

Traffic was always heavy. Commerce never stopped. Golbah was a City that never, ever slept. With all of the excitement very few would notice the specific influx of Confederate allies. They had been invited from all over to attend a gathering that was for all intents and purposes supposed to be clandestine. There would have been heads of state, governing bodies, and entire contingents of personal staff flooding the Crown for days before the event. Some would arrive as a sign of solidarity and strength. Others, to naysay.

It was expected. There was always an invisible line between groups. It wasn’t a physical gap that could be measured, but, a philosophical one that widened every day. Soon the gap would broaden into a crevasse, one deep enough to reveal how salient the situation really was. Galactic politics had always held its parties, factions, and divisions. It always would. Not every ideological conflict led to a complete break down in relations…But it was possible. That was the reason for this summit. Transparency. An expression of agency. A declaration... A movement against what which could no longer be ignored.

Planets from the Core to the Outer Rim would be represented. Delegates from the Silver Jedi, the Outer Rim Coalition, and the Core Imperial Confederation would be welcomed with equal amounts hospitality and discretion. The Vanguard was a building made to host guests that required a certain level of anonymity and protection. Their well-being would be the first priority, and as such, each group would be allowed to bring their own security if they felt it necessary—In addition to Confederate forces.

Diplomatic immunity is also granted from the time these particular guests walk into the courtyard of the Vanguard until they decide to leave. Confederate allies would be welcomed to extend their stay beyond official business and the amenities of the Vanguard would of course remain entirely open to them.

Once the majority of the representatives arrived…The summit would begin.

Time of Meeting: 16:30 – Mid Afternoon

Weather: Sunny. Painfully, hot. No matter how an off-worlder may have thought on what the climate of Geonosis would be like…They would be wrong. It is always hotter. It is a small saving grace that the world lacks humidity so existing isn’t quite so miserable but it’s important to stay hydrated. The interior if the Vanguard is climate controlled. If leaving the habitation zone beware of giant walls of dust and sand that move swiftly across the terrain.

Location: The Vanguard of Polaris [Golbah City - The Crown/Royal Sector]

Quarters: Guests are assigned rooms according to their needs and station.

Conference Room: Desert Rose [6th Floor]

The Desert Rose is one of the largest halls available. It has endless rows of black leather seating and holo-table capabilities. The area is also entirely sealed off through counter-surveillance measures that range from electromagnetic shielding and jamming equipment. No signal enters or leaves this area once the meetings begin to keep all parties involved protected. The discussions can range from business matters to details of national security. Every need, every amenity, and or requirement is openly available.

Guests will be checked at the door, both for identification, and weaponry while helpful droids will ensure that everyone settles in. Perimeter protection includes walls, doors, windows, ceilings, and floors. The surrounding conference rooms are closed for the duration.

Only authorized personnel [representatives as designated by the faction leaders] may enter.

Spoiler: Info on Joining This Thread

To join this thread, please speak first to your respective faction leader/s.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: The Desert Rose
Wearing: Business Dress
Wielding: Four Czerka knives [concealed]
Tags: Feel free to join!

Geonosis had become her home. Or the first few months after she came to think that she was banned from Ryloth, it had simply been the default planet. Where else could a girl go when she thought her home was no longer open to her, and the other planet that was close to becoming one included the memories of being either murdered or nearly murdered on it? She had hated it at first; the unrelenting sun, the heat, the natives. But bit by bit, first during her drunk stupors, then while not existing, and at last upon her return, it had become the place she automatically went to, always immediately thought of, when she was not gone away on missions. It was a strange feeling. Never had she thought this would happen.

And still despite all that, and despite knowing that she could've (maybe) had a residence in the Vanguard, she still preferred to remain living aboard her ship. The blood on the walls was still there, though she had covered it in soft pink near-white sheets, and the rest of the ship had been cleaned. She even had her own abandoned playground behind the Citadel's docking yard, one that so far no one else had touched and she had semi-quarantined to make sure it stayed hers. There was still the matter of the missing elevator, but getting that fixed seemed too much like giving a part of herself up that she was not yet ready to give. It could wait.

So many things had changed. She was not as broken as she once was. Moving to another division, something that had been meant as a form of atonement or punishment after hacking the Confederate datasystems and altering any and all information that had to do with her, a probation that was to last 6 months, had instead become one of the greatest opportunities she could have ever asked for. She was liked in the Ministry of Secrets. She had friends as well as mission partners that trusted her, and that she could trust with her life. She was no longer the lone puppy, the wallflower mocked for not being like the rest. It was everything she had dreamed, and at the same time everything she had never thought could happen to her within the Confederacy. It made the memory of losing her place with the Pathfinders, a place she both had and never did, pale in comparison.

And here she was now. Two women had taken an interest in her. One, [member="Darth Elyria"], for reasons she had not quite yet figured out. She was also joined by [member="Kaden Farr"], who made repeated attempts to question the Sithling about it. Scherezade was not entirely sure why; certainly, her ability to perform the Transfer Essence while pulling a soul out from the space between dimension had cemented the fact that she was a Master among the Sith even without pump and ceremony, yet it often seemed like this was faded compared to the rest of the things the Blood Hound could do. Something within her suggested that Elyria's interest in her might have had to do with that, but she was not certain. Only time would tell.

The second woman was [member="Rhaina Tira"]. The woman, as far as Scherezade knew, was part of Vicelord [member="Darth Metus"] ' personal staff. The fact that she was one of the two Ministers of Secrets was entirely unknown to the Crow. And it was Rhaina that had given Scherezade the invitation to this summit, had told her what this would be about, and had emphasized how secretive it was. Considering the lengthy list of those invited, Scherezade was hardly certain about how secret it exactly was, but she played along.

Many of those on the Confederate side, if they noticed her, might not actually notice her; for once, she was not dressed in anything skimpy for a party, or looked like the walking armory she was at any other time. No. Scherezade had actually invested in a proper business suit, and she arrived at the summit ready. She knew what the topic at hand would be about, and she knew what she had to contribute.

Scherezade had always been death to those she met on the field of battle. There was nothing that could hold her back. Mission success after mission success, whether she was Mandragora, drunk, Pathfinder, or Crow, showed that. But what few people realized was that she had expended in terms of business and creation as well. During her off time, she often invested in Whimsy, her company – one that arranged birthday parties, and created uncommon means of mass destruction. Means that could help them capture their enemies unprepared.

This summit could have been a chance to show them. To show those who had mocked her that she was worthy, that the sum of all her parts were more than what they thought was random chaos and unintelligible patterns of thought. But no. Not at all. This summit was for her to show to herself that she was a part of the Confederacy that it would have a hard time losing; that she was more than a cheap meat shield or weapon. That she was part of the quilt that made the Confederacy. And that she would, through that, make them proud to have her as part of them. Not because she had no other choice – but because this was where she chose to be.

Scherezade entered the Desert Rose with a confident smile, glowing green eyes scanning the hall, hoping to find someone to mingle with before they got to business.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: The Desert Rose
Wearing: Tungsten + Argon
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] + [Open]

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The pale-skinned Exarch stepped from the gilded turbo-lift that led to the sixth floor of the Vanguard. There were droids bustling here and there, carrying items, bottles of water, and hurrying along to ensure that everything flowed smoothly. Typically, Srina arrived at the side of the Vicelord, [member="Darth Metus"], or with her fellow Exarch [member="Adron Malvern"]. She had not laid eyes to either one of them yet but the slender woman had no doubt that one or both would be along shortly.

Her heart-shaped face had healed a great deal since the Invasion of Kuat. At one point, she had worn a half mask to keep the damage safe while it healed, but, it had bothered those around her to see her suffer. From the perspective of the Offices of the Vicelord it expressed distinct weakness. The very long arm of the law, of Darth Metus, could not be seen as broken and or breakable. They could not have that. Not when so many eyes were upon them.

Treatments and application of the Dark Side had smoothed her skin. The only proof that anything had gone awry were faint marks on the lower right side of her jaw, scars, that would fade in time. Pressed powder minimized the appearance so she wouldn’t negatively affect their esteemed guests. The Sith Apprentice was the same, distant perfection, that she had always been. The silver-eyed warrior had donned a simple black shift that held to her every curve as if she had been poured into it. As modest as it was in the front the back dipped low, with a metallic applique that ran up her spine, creating the illusion of something…Not quite right.

She was a deadened moon, cold, and taciturn—Silent. Where once she preferred to wear lighter colors, recent events left her in the shades of mourning. Her hands remained clasped before her while she traversed the hall and artfully avoided the staff that were moving here and there. The Exarch could hardly blame them for their haphazard motions. Time was running short.

When she approached the appropriate Conference Hall, the Desert Rose, she was allowed through with the appropriate protocols being met. Even though she was a high-ranking member of the Confederacy, she carried no weapons, and submitted herself to the same safe-guards that their guests would go through. Srina did not hold herself above them. Not in any way. In the end—they were all still mostly made of carbon. They could all bleed.

They could all die. Nothing, not even the will of her Master, made it any different.

The room was filled with light. Compared to the dire nature of the discussion that would soon befall them all…It almost felt wrong. Misleading. Row after row of empty black chairs stared back at her. Srina moved at a leisurely pace, no more than a whisper along the marble, while the black fabric of her outfit trailed just behind her. Her eyes were drawn to the orange glow of the horizon. This was it.

Srina had learned quite a lot from her betters in the last few years. She had learned of politics, leadership, and war on a galactic scale, versus only concerning herself with the woes of Eshan. More than anything…She had learned that there was no price too great to pay for an ideal. Every time they rang the bells of war, every time they went off to court a new member world, they knew the risks. They were all willing to die to see their nation live. Srina would always feel her heart torn, pulling, and drawing her back home…But this was home too. She had a responsibility. A duty.
The general consensus was that the Confederacy could wait on the sidelines no longer. Compromise, half-measures, and choosing to follow better angels only stymied an obvious disease. These things were made for better men, pure hearts, but they were never a cure.

She inhaled slowly when a familiar presence washed over her. The placement took but moments. Srina would know the signature of [member="Scherezade deWinter"] anywhere. “You are still early.”, the Echani commented, thinking on how the former-Knight must feel, to see only her in the room. What a disappointment she must be. “Others will be here soon.”

As if on queue the ivory-haired Echani noted that [member="Darth Metus"] had also arrived. Her gaze tore from the window when he entered the Conference Hall and mercurial eyes swept over him. From head to toe. Asking questions, searching for answers, as only she could. “Master…Have you decided?”

In the end—The Vicelord would decide the outcome. Through all the debate over the minutiae there was one thing, he would never forget, and that was the bigger picture. The price for inaction was too high and it would be smaller, poorer worlds, that would pay most dearly. The CIS was vast but the galaxy was larger still. They could not be everywhere at all times.

In a moment of clarity her mind settled. Yes, [member="Darth Metus"] had decided.

 

[Kyyrk]

LOCATION: The Desert Rose
WEARING: Armored Robes + Cloak
TAGS: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Darth Metus"]
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Voph arrived to Geonosis aboard his personal vessel, the Arcane Scion. It was still morning on the oppressively hot world, and yet Voph didn't seem to notice the heat. The Force truly was a wonderful ally, it seemed. He was here on business. Perhaps the most important business he'd been on in years. A meeting had been called. Summons had been sent. He was not entirely surprised to have received one himself. If only because he knew he would have a hand in the outcome of this meeting, whether he was present for it or not. Voph spent the morning planning and preparing. He knew how well meetings like this attracted unwanted attention. Prying eyes of idealists who seemed to think they and they alone held dominion over the will of the Force. Not today.

As preparations drew to a close, Voph stepped within the halls of the Vanguard. His robes were cleaned, and armor polished until it gleamed in the light. There was no blade hanging at his hip. Not today. They were to be among friends. And besides, he did not need a lightsaber to cause some damage. After passing the security screenings at the door, Voph stepped within the lift and rode it to the sixth floor. He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He could not deny that his anticipation was running high. He'd held a seat on a number of councils in his day. He was prepared to be the linchpin in their efforts, if need be. He'd spent the past week preparing his thoughts, deciding what might be said if he were called upon. What happened in this room had the chance to change the very face of the galaxy.

As Voph stepped inside the conference room, his gaze turned to the Vicelord. Exarch Talon and deWinter were also present. But there would be more. "Vicelord. Exarch. deWinter." Voph offered a single bow of greeting to the lot. As he straightened up, his gaze focused on the Vicelord, his brow furrowing. In that moment, Voph realized something. This meeting was nought but a formality. It had been decided. Regardless of what happened here, he knew what was coming. He could feel the resolve in Metus' very being. And it brought him no end of joy to know he felt the same. But Voph did not allow the emotions to register. There would be a time for that. But as Voph selected a seat near the middle of the Confederate delegation, his only goal was to use his knowledge of the matter at hand, as well as his experience, to win the other delegates over. Metus had selected his course of action. And it was one Voph believed in with every fiber of his being. But now, it was his duty to assist the Vicelord in winning over others that might join their cause...

 

[Derek Dib]

Location: en route to the Desert Rose/ at the Desert Rose
Wearing: black suit, red tie
Tags: whomever wishes

His shuttle landed gently upon the duracrete pad, the hissing of hydraulics heralding the lowering ramp that thumped lightly on the ground. A single man walked down the ramp, his obsidian suit marred only by the crimson tie that swayed with the man's even gait. With boots firmly planted on the ground he raised his head to look into the sky. Black hair and pale complexion contrasted harshly, vying for a piercing demeanor or a cold visage. Neither truly won. Instead an air of reservation was punctuated by the sharp expression. Dark eyes rimmed with a tint of red looked to the horizon where Golbah City stood stoically.

"Viceroy Dib, your speeder awaits to take you to the train", a captain spoke quietly while waiting at attention. The Viceroy nodded and motioned with his left hand to lead the way. The two men crossed the landing area to where a speeder hovered on a cushion of air. With another wave the Viceroy motioned the captain away from his door, opening it himself to climb in.

As the captain closed the door the speeder kicked up a cloud of dust as the fans engaged propelling them forward on their trek. Glancing out the window Derek's eyes watched the massive coliseum of the Petranaki Arena, an echo from the Nexus within throbbing as a heartbeat. One of his first appearances with the Confederacy had been in the box seats overlooking the sands. Time never slows, and seems to accelerate as one grows older. His eyes caught sight of his sarcastic expression as the speeder pulled up to the loading docks where one of the trains waited.

Easing from the speeder he followed the captain on board and watched as the doors closed before the train was off, headed for the capital. He took a seat on one of the benches as the captain leaned against the window watching as sand surrendered to the metropolis. Derek closed his eyes and calemed himself for the final minutes before the train slowed and stopped.

Easing from the bench he smoothed his jacket before following the captain off the train and onwards to a meeting on the sixth floor of the Desert Rose.

He arrived to neither pomp nor announcement, choosing to remain anonymous. Just a minor cog within the grand scheme of the Confederacy. Making his way to stand next to the windows he looked out upon the city with an undecipherable sigh. They had grown so much. Become so much. All their hopes and dreams of creating a place of acceptance for all walks of life had been realized. Slavery had been eradicated in their cloud of influence. Famine and war had been carefully evaluated in each circumstance, and then the justifiable response given as plans of action unfolded.

Once the Confederacy was looked at disdainfully in it's infancy, many bodies of government counting down the days for the inevitable implosion or preordained silent end as the cause fell apart in the emptiness of unimpressive demise that had claimed so many fledgling nations before. But to the surprise and dismay of many, the Confederacy not only survived but thrived. And now they had become one of the greatest powers in the galaxy.

He smiled grimly as his eyes caught sight of one of the Exarchs of the Vicelord speaking to a woman he knew by two names. His right hand flexed slightly as his eyes diverted from the sight. There was a price for the Confederacy making it this far, and the cost was paid by those willing to make the sacrifice.

The smile eased from his face. He knew that in battle or aggressive negotiations on planets being brought into the fold, he had a place. Yet in environments such as this, his opinion and voice were oft looked at as divisive, oppositional, and frustratingly resistant. He usually didn't mean to be objectionable but wished to follow the laws that had been laid before while ensuring they didn't rashly rush into decisions that could prove to be detrimental to the cause.

He shook his head with a second sigh as he cast off the internal monologue to find out what propositions would arise from the gathering this day

 

[Luna Terrik]

Location: Goblah City; Conference room
Time: 1630 hours
Post: #1
Equipment: Personal Dauntless Armor, SC4 Blaster, Tactical Recon Handguns
Tags: [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Darth Metus"], [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Voph"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

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It wasn’t exactly normal to be pulled away from the Rebellious Hawk for an assignment such as this one. The commander of the Dauntless had been focused for much of the past few months on rebuilding the group from practically scratch, rebuilding them after the casualties they had sustained throughout the previous few campaigns. Still, when the Exarch’s called, saying that they would like the Dauntless as guards at a delegation, then there was no refusing such a thing. In fact, Luna had brought some of her best in to do the job.

Having to leave behind Tein on the ship was a tough choice, but she needed at least one master sergeant left behind to continue the training as well as keep the rest of the dauntless up and ready if needed. That left Q’iara, the 1.4 meter tall Zabrak in light pink colored Dauntless commando armor, to join up with her and 4 others to head down to the surface. Each of the other four had been handpicked by Luna herself, as to make sure they were no loose ends whatsoever for the security of this meeting.

The security was simple. Two of the commandos would be posted outside the door, and the rest, including Luna and Q’iara, would guard the interior, staying close to the exarch’s side, and, once the meeting started, be stationed in each of the corners of the room, letting them gain 360 degrees of vision throughout. It was a simple security detail, but effective enough. Though the commander was still confused as to why the Exarch’s needed guarding in the first place if they were so powerful. As much as she hated to admit it, if the Exarch couldn’t stop a threat, there wouldn’t be much she or any of her comrades could do.

Still, as she and the other four commandos entered the room, she was greeted by the sight of 3 other representatives already there and waiting. While the Dauntless were early, it seemed as though they had not been early enough to beat the rest here. An interesting turn from what typically happened at these sort of events, in which everyone seemingly was late. These were not the thoughts to be filling her mind at this moment, however, and she motioned to the group to spread out and head to prepared corners.

The commander herself strode toward the Exarch, bowing her head in respect once she got close enough to draw the attention of the white haired woman. “Exarch Talon, a pleasure to be seeing you again. My men are stationed outside and the security is set. We are ready to begin once the other representatives arrive.” Staying still, she awaited the women to either dismiss or continue the conversation, not wanting to cut her off in any way before moving to her assigned post.

 

[WolfMortum]

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Location: The Vanguard of Polaris [Golbah City - The Crown/Royal Sector].​

Conference Room: Desert Rose [6th Floor].​

[member="John Locke"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Tom Taff"]​

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The delegation of Silver Jedi from Kashyyyk would arrive via the CR90 Ambassador Class Corvette, docking at the nearest spaceport under invitation of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The flight in had proven Golbah City to be considerably vast and technologically impressive, a much more shallow version of Coruscant in terms of height, though just how wide-spread the City ran, Veiere could not tell.

Bearing the attire of an Ambassador of the Order, Veiere Arenais had been invited alongside his superiors within the Silver Assembly. Members of the senior personnel within the Order, those whom were responsible for leadership over the ever growing representation of Jedi across the Galaxy (Or at the very least, in the eastern territories of the Galactic Map). Attached to his belt where his two Lightsabers, though he had no intention of using them. A Jedi simply did not leave the Temple without them; Naturally, the consequences for drawing a weapon here would also cause an international incident, the last thing Veiere wished between the Silver Jedi and the Confederacy.

The Jedi Master had not been briefed upon the nature of their meeting with the CIS, though something of this magnitude hinted very obviously towards political affairs between the two significant powers within the Galactic stage that was politics. There'd been a number of incidents lately that could have warranted such a need to meet with their arguably strongest of alliances, a relationship brokered upon a past threat of war with the Mandalorian Empire and the Sith Empire, long before Veiere's joining the Jedi of Kashyyyk.

Veiere's thoughts ran to Commenor and events that had transpired there, his wife [member="Kay Arenais"] of whom was now presiding in the western territories. Against his present knowledge, she'd become known to the Confederacy due to her position there, her new Empire. Thus far, Veiere had avoided being questioned about their present circumstance and how their marriage reflected upon their political ties. These, questions that Veiere did not wish to encourage for the difficulty in answering them and the possibility that he might need to stand against her people should war ever break out between the two.

Never the less, Veiere was a Jedi Master within the Silver Order and that's where his duty and dedication lay. For service to the greater galaxy was a life lived selflessly, and the Force required a certain level of sacrifice from all whom served the Light, whether they knew this or not. Today, he would be doing just that, serving the Galaxy alongside his peers as their purpose on Geonosis would eventually be disclosed to them through the diplomatic rendezvous with the leaders of the Confederacy.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Derek Dib"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​

 

[Aida Aquila]

Location: The Vanguard of Polaris [Golbah City - The Crown/Royal Sector].
Conference Room: Desert Rose [6th Floor].
SJO: [member="Veiere Arenais"]| [member="John Locke"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Tom Taff"]

Aida had remained quiet during transit, sitting in a meditative state that one might mistake for sleep, save for the faintest inkling of a smile. The Jedi woman was silently preparing for a day spent in discussions. True, she was unsure as to exactly what the topic would be – but she felt that it was important nonetheless. The feeling within told her, and she would not ignore its voice.

As their party made for the meeting room, she had remained a few steps behind Master Arenais. Her inquisitive blue eyes wandering their surroundings, taking it all in. The heat was oppressive, but the traveling Jedi seemed unperturbed. Today she wore a long robe of white, trimmed with the shimmering fabric of her gray cloak. She carried no weapons, she never did. And though her expression was light and aloof, she was quite interested as she mused about what might be discussed.

There were always threats, but she supposed that recent events may have been taken into account.

Her tranquil presence breezed into the meeting room, where she would offer the other delegates a gentle incline of her head and a smile.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Location: Goblah City; Conference room



Ah Geonosis! The very place she was the moment she became enslaved by the CIS, [member="Adron Malvern"] specifically. Well, still it has been fun, educational even, an era in her multiple lifetimes she could not pass up. Still she had been sentenced to serve or be gruesomely put to death inside the mouth of some giant ferocious beast. So how can she complain?!

Since joining the CIS, Pom Stych Tivé learned to be less conspicuous when attending these more high profile gatherings. She used to stroll right in, but after her first open deal with a proprietor, even her own faction security started frisking her for contraband and those discrete items that make a sorceress a Nightsister. Today she did not wear her typical garb to catch attention. Today she did not bring along an arsenal of her potions stored in small vials. She brought six, and those were because everyone expects her to bring them; and she pretends this time to sigh as they are expectedly confiscated by security. The Potions she refused to enter without were concealed in a fashion that none would suspect. The crystals she wore as jewelry...and the buttons sewn into her attire, held her precious tinctures in their hollowed out core. They would provide protection if necessary. It is not that she feels mistrust towards her allies, but that her job is to protect her Vicelord [member="Darth Metus"], even if her own people don’t comprehend her methods.

Today, the Nightsister looked like everyone else, no patent leather trench coat, but please, she still arrived clad in all black attire. Black most certainly matches her ways, but she is realizing, not so concerning her heart; although her flesh actually singes in places where no shadow looms, go figure. Her black locks braided and pinned. Her lips rose red and she wore rose colored shades which matched her long pointed nails.

She stood off from the others until directed where she should sit. A service droid lead the way. She glanced at the seating place-cards, ‘Boy, girl, boy, girl... Quaint.’ Her seat is next to a [member="Derek Dib"], someone unknown to her.

“So when is the food?” she asked the droid. Really, what else is there to look forward to at these things? She is afterall just a tag along, an observant and guardian for her Vicelord.




[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Voph"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Veiere Arenais"] [member="Aida Aquila"]

 

[John Locke]

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Location: The Vanguard of Polaris​

Objective: Have a good time?​

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Tagging: [member="Gianna Aegis"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Tom Taff"]​

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There was something you missed when you spent your life flitting around from planet to planet, facility to facility. Sure, you got to see a lot of the galaxy, you got to experience all the wonders of...well 4 walls and steaming mugs of caf really. Sometimes he didn't even get to set his feet on solid ground, just pausing in a system long enough for a call, a conference before it was on to the next destination. It wasn't that he didn't have a house, it was just that he rarely found time to actually spend the night, or any serious amount of time there. In a way this trip, the summit called by the confederacy had been a little bit of a blessing. At the very least it would act as a stop gap, a forced vacation, with that in mind he'd arrived a few days early, spending a little time in the apartment the Confederacy had seen fit to provide him for services rendered...it did make doing business in the confederacy that much easier.

Despite the trust afforded by having an apartment in the building, John honestly had no idea what the meeting today was going to be about but a helpful message had informed him that the rest of the Silver Jedi were arriving, the notification causing him to nod his head at this friends before he turned back to the glass he held in his hands, watching the droplets of condensation beading on the side of the glass, running down as the large cube of ice tinkled as it struck the side of the glass. No matter where you were in the galaxy, no matter if you were in the lowest seed bar or the most high-class party, they always had a bottle of Corellian whiskey somewhere. It was the taste of home.

The room was starting to fill up, various people he both recognised and didn't arriving, the security higher than he'd ever seen before. The great and mighty of the galaxy, it really was enough to make the engineer from Corellia want to find a place to hide, find hte deepest corner to curl up in, but he was supposed to share a table with them as the discussed, well what he could only assume was the fate of the galaxy...or the flavour of the birthday cake. This was...well every time he was brought face to face with his situation the man couldn't help but be a little overwhelmed by the direction his life had taken.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

For the first time in years, Jessica returned to Geonosis for official business. She was part of the Silvers' delegation for strategic reasons: the Silvers have had some bad blood with the Mandalorians that she wished to be addressed in this summit: along with [member="John Locke"], it was the main reason why she even was there. Nevertheless, she'd tread lightly regarding other topics, such as trade, even with the CIC, whom she knew was the hardest to get along with for the Silvers. But what would the others be there for? Like [member="Veiere Arenais"]? Or any of the Confederates she would face? Once again, she'd rather go over the strategic considerations: the northeastern border is the most vulnerable region since the Sith and especially the Mandos were active in that region. But she knew, from Celiana and a few others, that the Mandos weren't above scorched-earth strategies so they need to tread lightly around Mandos if it came to going on the offense. And [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] is well-placed to say that the Silvers are divided over the issue of attacking the Mandos, much less head-on.

 

[Gir Quee]

"It's your favorite thing in the galaxy," remarked Ariela with a coy smile.

The admiral ruefully shook his head as he brushed off a speck of lint from his duty uniform, "This one actually looks to be interesting."

Politics. Internal politics within the service tired the man to no end. But international politics were an altogether animal, particularly because the stakes were higher and there was usually more unknown than known. He knew that a number of Silver Jedi and their affiliated personnel would already be present in the hall, and frankly he felt that the [member="John Locke"] and [member="Veiere Arenais"] would be better suited to take the spotlight for the Silver Jedi delegation than him. He never had been much of a public speaker, much to his chagrin. Thankfully they made teleprompters for him and he had a decent speechwriter on payroll, but the man would likely never give that impromptu speech that stirred the hearts of millions. The two presented their day passes to one of the Vanguard's security elements before the two started up to the sixth floor. The replica droid broke the silence.

"Are you feeling interested in this meeting? Or terrified?"

Gir briefly pressed his lips together, "Both. War brings ruin and damage to everyone nearby. The winner is the one who loses the least, whether its lives, materials, or territory or whatever it is that you seek. And not everyone prioritizes those the same."

Ariela let a coy smile cross her lips, "Why do you hide it from me?"

"What's that?"

"What you're truly thinking. You like your philosophical deflections, after all..."

"We are about to be among Jedi and other force-users. I dare not think of everything in their presence. That's a luxury that you have, that I do not. I'd tell you to remember that, but that would be a superfluous command..."

 

[Josh Dragovalor]

Tagging: [member="Gianna Aegis"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="John Locke"] | [member="Tom Taff"]​

Objective: I dunno​

​

The Silver's ship would arrive containing the delegates for the meeting that their longtime allies, the CIS, had commissioned. Josh had a feeling he knew what it was about. The Mandalorian Empire and Sith Empire had made their likely longstanding coalition official and public, which meant that the Mandalorians, already more or less glorified terrorists, now had more dangerous backing. That was something they would likely have to deal with over time. He just hoped that whatever the CIS wanted to speak of, they would be on the same page on the matter. He pondered, as he walked with the other members of the Silver delegation, just what else it could be. But he could think of little else.

When a threat was present, one's mind is always on what is lurking.

 

[Atlas Drake]

Kathol Republic Vessel Utopia​

Captain Atlas Drake, Commanding​

Mission Objective: Represent Outer Rim Coalition​

Persons of Interest: [member="Peyton Steele"], [member="Darth Metus"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Veiere Arenais"], [member="John Locke"]​

​

This wasn't what he trained for.

The Utopia was on a mission of peaceful exploration, and here he was about to attend a war council in everything but name. They had been conducting focused sensor probes along the Confederacy's southern border, and when representatives from the Coalition were requested Captain Drake and his crew were the closest on hand. A Starbird assault shuttle had rendezvoused half a dozen parsecs from Geonosis with more delegates. There were two Underground operatives, but Agent Steele had authority. Sheriff Omegon of the Judges was an Iron Knight, Atlas was glad he wouldn't have to rely solely on a Shard.

Peyton had introduced a robed figure as her aide, but the unnamed assistant had the look of this secretive Jedi Covenant Atlas had heard about. Last was General Dukat, a Uukaablian officer of no small repute. It was with the general that Atlas had gotten along with best so far, as military men they shared a common understanding. With some hesitation, Drake surrendered his service weapon at the conference room door.

"Into the breach," he mumbled to Dukat, sharing a look with the old soldier before plunging onward only to find himself surrounded by some of the most powerful faces in the galaxy.

Keenly aware that he was a stranger here to everyone, Atlas straightened his uniform collar and nodded awkwardly to any curious glances thrown their way. Most of the time when these summits took place, the Coalition either didn't have anyone in range or didn't bother to show. Memory of Utapau had made an exception of this occasion, the deteriorating state of the Core was a particular concern for the Underground.

"You recognize any of these people?" Captain Drake asked Peyton in a low voice. He thought he could name a few, but didn't want to embarrass himself doing something as simple as mixing up Silver Jedi.

 

[Peyton Steele]

She had been tasked by the powers that be to head to Geonosis. An agent, Peyton Steele was well known for her ability to talk her way out of, and into a lot of situations. The blonde woman rolled her eyes a bit when the order came down. But she understood the need. The Underground and New Alliance needed to have a presence at this meeting, even if the Kathol Republic was sending their own representatives. It wasn't a distrust in the ranks of the Coalition, merely strengthening the line. And according to the orders, as Peyton had lead the part of the refugees from Coruscant to the Confederacy, it was important that she was seen.

Aboard the Starbird, the woman had a leather jacket over her red dress. The jacket was more a statement piece, if anyone asked. But the fact that she could keep a hold-out blaster and a stun baton didn't hurt. Add in her bracelet which allowed her to fire a stun blast, if it was needed, and she was feeling a bit more comfortable.

The being with her, the one in the dark brown robes, was a member of the Jedi Covenant, as [member="Atlas Drake"] had supposed. The Selkath was a Jedi who had been one of the ones wandering during the event, had seen what good the Confederacy could do, but being the one to watch that front of the Alliance had seen how they do treat their own members, and what their leadership was capable of.

"We're here to provide you support, Captain." She said, offering a calm smile before tapping a device behind her ear, and a quick flash on her eye showed the man that she was recording, and would perhaps have some background insight to provide as things proceeded.

Standing close to Drake, she heard him and nodded.

"The blonde is [member="Srina Talon"]. She was linked to Aryn Teth of the Alliance for a minute. "Tall one is [member="Scherezade deWinter"] I believe. From reports, she has a fixation with knives." Sticking close, she pointed out the Jedi, providing some background on [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] and how he would be someone Starchaser would speak to. "Though, I feel the likes of Admiral [member="Gir Quee"] and [member="John Locke"] may be more your speed." She kept an eye on everyone, smiling at anyone who spoke to the Coalition team, while interjecting with what background she had. "And [member="Veiere Arenais"], he's trusted by the Covenant as well. Despite his... past." She didn't really trust him.

 

[WolfMortum]

​

​

Location: The Vanguard of Polaris [Golbah City - The Crown/Royal Sector].​

Conference Room: Desert Rose [6th Floor].​

[member="John Locke"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Tom Taff"]​

​

​

​

Before long it seemed that the group would be joined by representatives of the Outer-Rim Coalition, though Veiere did not recognize either of them. It was his belief that between himself and [member="Coren Starchaser"], it was the latter of whom had held more contact with the Coalition from where his role had been within the Galactic Alliance. Commenor had been where Veiere's name held the most weight within politics, yet even back then there had been little contact with the Coalition. What little Veiere did know of them had come from the holonet, where every piece of information gained had to be questioned for it's legitimacy.

Glancing to his side to where [member="Aida Aquila"] had stopped, Veiere turned to offer her a faint smile, hoping to be encouraging least the Jedi Master feel any sense of discomfort about the meeting they were there to attend. "Rather impressive, isn't it" he commented on their surroundings; the Vanguard of Polaris was vast and whomever had built the establishment had spared no expense, or so that appeared to be the case at least.

Looking across the conference room to those of the Confederacy, Veiere's gaze landed upon [member="Voph"] himself for a moment. The man's name had recently come up through a meeting with one of Veiere's contacts, now a leader presiding over a world under the Silver Jedi Order. Voph himself knew a great many details regarding Veiere's family, and so it was only natural that the Jedi Master question silently, the way that his mind would work in deciphering their past. To put it simply, Veiere couldn't help but question exactly how the other male felt about the former King not only being among the Jedi, but being present for this meeting as well.

Veiere's gaze would shift eventually to [member="John Locke"], [member="Gir Quee"] and [member="Josh Dragonsflame"]. The first two were his superiors within the Silver Fleet, although Master Dragonsflame himself was a senior member of the Silver Assembly alongside Aida Aquila and as such, they were both at the height of the Silver Hierarchy. Thus far in Veiere's time with the Order of the Silver Jedi, being invited to a meeting such as this, alongside his peers at their level was something he considered to be quite an honor. One that he'd never have expected back when Coren had first approached him with the possibility of helping to bring together an alliance of Jedi, so very long ago now.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Derek Dib"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Atlas Drake"] | [member="Peyton Steele"]​

 

[Ettiene Kharne]

Location: The Desert Rose (6th Floor; Conference Room)​

Wearing: Service Dress Uniform​

Tags: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Derek Dib"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="John Locke"] | [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] | [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Atlas Drake"] | [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | Anyone else - sorry if I missed you​

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​

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Geonosis. It was a planet the High Marshal, Alden Akaran, had not stepped foot on in some time. And that time dated back to an undisclosed summit that had brought him face-to-face with one of the Confederacy’s very own Exarch’s, [member="Adron Malvern"]. Back then, he’d only been a Major in the Confederate Navy - a far different time than now. However, in all honesty, the man wasn’t disappointed his visits to the capital of the Confederacy had been few and very far between. It was hot, sorbidly so. It was dry. And it lacked the appeal of life. The lush green nature of thriving vegetation would never find a foothold here for it was too hot and water was far too scarce a commodity to support it.

The sun had already crested the midday point by the time Alden had arrived in orbit and he had wasted no time in boarding the shuttle that had taken him directly to the capital city. He’d landed a few clicks from the Desert Rose, but thankfully he’d managed to arrive within the climate control sector of the planet. Even so, the sun somehow managed to seem blistering hot, with its intensely bright rays forcing the man to shield his eyes for a time until they could finally adjust. Well...at least as best as they were able.

Here, it seemed such a task never got any easier.

The hour was approaching 1600 by the time he’d managed to arrive at the Desert Rose and, again, he wasted no time making his way toward his final objective and quickly clearing through the initial security checkpoint. The elevator would speed him toward the sixth floor where this summit, of sorts, was supposed to occur, his directing to be here, simply being a result of his rank now. Something about it being one of the responsibilities innate in being the commanding officer one of the Armada’s sworn toward the protection of the Confederacy and in so being the appointed protector of a sector. That and holding the second highest official commissioned rank within the Confederacy Defense Force, second to just the Grand Marshal, [member='Genesis Rostu'], and above him, the governmental Minister, [member="Caesar Kenway"]. Needless to say, promotion had meant more responsibility and more mundane meetings to attend.

The elevator doors slid open and he stepped forward to where he was greeted by two security personnel that each rendered him a salute which he returned before they began the processing of ensuring he was exactly who he appeared to be. They performed the verification against his identification which he’d given them found that everything checked out and returned it to him.

“Sir, if you have any communications or electronic devices, please secure them in the safe on the wall to your right. You will be able to retrieve them once the session has adjourned. Thank you.” The lead security officer had spoke up with a rehearsed perfection with his oration, obviously having already said it a number of times before. “Also, if you are carrying any force of weaponry, those items will also be required to be secured outside here and you may retrieve all possessions after the session has concluded, Sir.”

Alden simply nodded to the man as he reached into his pocket and pulled the lone comlink from it, before stowing the singular device in the safe as instructed. Afterward, he proceeded forward and entered the room which opened up to reveal a number of people which had already arrived. Many of the faces gathered here were unfamiliar to the man, however there were a few that were recognizable to him. And of those faces, there was only one face he actually knew on a personal level, [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. Of course he knew of others here and the positions they held, such as the Exarch, [member="Srina Talon"], however, of those currently gathered, Scherezade was the only one he actually knew and so he approached the group she appeared to mingle with which seemed to include the Exarch and a Miralukan ([member="Voph"]).

“Exarch Talon,” he said with a slight bow of his head. He then extended his hand in the manner to offer her a handshake. For him in his military mind, it was only proper to acknowledge the Exarch first as in this case she carried the highest rank among them.

 

[Kyyrk]

LOCATION: The Desert Rose
WEARING: Armored Robes + Cloak
TAGS:​

CIS: Srina Talon | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Alden Akaran"] | [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Derek Dib"]​

SJO: [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] | [member="John Locke"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Gir Quee"]​

ORC: [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Atlas Drake"]​

​

Voph's head had bowed, hands clasped over his gut, looking for all the world like he had fallen asleep in his chair. Of course, the Miraluka didn't sleep. He couldn't. He was merely meditating. Much was happening in the galaxy today, and much more would happen as a result of this summit. The Silver Jedi delegation was the first to arrive amidst the Confederate elements still trickling in. Upon seeing [member="John Locke"] enter, Voph stood. Always time for a little business on the side.

Voph stepped up beside the man, and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a datapad with another. He leaned forward to mutter in his ear. "I found something on Eshan you might take an interest in. If it looks like something you wish to pursue, give the word and I'll make a delivery." His own techs had been working on this for some time now, but with how things were going, Voph had decided it was only fair that the Silver Jedi be brought into the fold. They were allies, after all. Voph patted Locke on the shoulder as he stepped away. There was someone else he wished to speak with.

Voph stepped over towards another delegate from the Silver Jedi. He offered a smile, not exactly genuine, but polite, as he approached his target. A hand was extended towards [member="Veiere Arenais"] as Voph approached. "It's been some time, Master Jidai." Jedi. The word was simple enough to understand, even if the pronunciation marked it as hailing from a language other than basic. "I suppose you are no longer a king, are you? Unless your wife's...ventures in the west have elevated your station beyond your previous rank."

Voph smirked at his quip, but it quickly faded to a furrowed brow expressing concern. ​"I'm sure things have been difficult for your family since her disappearance. I hope you and your children are doing well, in spite of the circumstances." Voph paused, his already low voice dropping even lower. What he had to say next was for Veiere, and Veiere alone. "You are to be commended for raising them how you did. If your son is anything like his sister, I can only imagine what fortune will come to those that have the honor of seeking his help. Without the assistance of Captain Arenais... I would not be here to speak with you today. You should be proud to call her your daughter."

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Confederate Territory - Geonosis - Golbah City - Vanguard Conference Room​

Tagging: [member="John Locke"] + [Open]​

______________​

Gianna sucked in a deep breath while she sat down quietly beside [member="John Locke"]. The flame haired Jedi Knight had traveled all over the verse for the sake of following the will of the Force, but, it had never before led her to Geonosis. She had never seen such a tall building outside of Coruscant before. Thus far—Everyone had been kind. The protocol droids were helpful and the staff seemed to have a sixth sense when she was about to ask for something. The Nabooian woman felt flattered that so much care had been placed into their accommodations, but the purpose of the summit, left her stomach feeling like little butterflies were rolling around in it.

The young woman had arrived a day prior to the event, after John, but before the conference itself. She had asked the level-headed engineer if she could stay with him since it felt incredibly wasteful to request her own quarters in the Vanguard. They were massive. There were entire homes on Naboo that could fit within the apartments that the hotel boasted. Not to mention the fact that she had only come to this meeting of minds at his behest. The reason? Purportedly, he valued her counsel.

They had spent the past few days waxing poetic about philosophical positions. He enjoyed his whiskey and biscuits while she enjoyed a nice cup of tarine tea and porridge. It was traditionally a breakfast food, but the Knight found it comforting, and it reminded her of home. When they weren’t discussing the stars, she often provided a special service to her friend. She acted as a sound board for his ideas.

John Locke was a genius. At least, in her opinion he was. He created things effortlessly that she would have never thought of with all the time in the world. From simple items that made everyday living easier to hyperdrives, ships, and even armor and weapons—Nothing was truly out of his reach. But, just like any genius, he occasionally needed a little tempering. Just because he could create something didn’t at all mean that he should. The line between progress and moral obligation could become blurry.

That was where Gia came in. Her moral compass never wavered, not even, when presented with the most terrible of circumstances.

As always, the soft woman seemed to emanate a sense of peace. Her smile was one that made others think of beautiful paintings, spring flowers, a real dazzler that could change the day of anyone she crossed. In the same token she was also fairly empathetic. Especially, when it involved the people she was close to. While John seemed a little out of his element, she seemed right at home, nestled into a comfortable high-backed office chair. “Breathe, John...”, she uttered softly to him, reaching out, to steal his hand away from his drink.

She turned it over and drew something small into his much larger palm while hiding it beneath the table. A dot for each eye, a small circular nose, an animal mouth, and little perky ears. “Guess…Animal category. Small. You get three chances.”, Gianna challenged him surreptitiously, deliberately, trying to take his mind off the wait. His mind loved puzzles. A Yorshi was the answer, but, that could be a little to figure out from a stick figure drawing that he couldn’t see.

In the meantime, she took note of the other Silvers that were slowly filtering their way into the hall. From [member="Gir Quee"], whom she only ever heard of, to [member="Veiere Arenais"], whom she had once met at a Forge Festival. He was kindly, to be certain, but the young woman truthfully only had a few friends among those that had arrived. Raising her free hand, she waved lightly at Veiere. Not enough to make a spectacle, but, just enough to let him know she remembered him. [member="Josh Dragonsflame"], [member="Jessica Med-Beq"], and [member="Aida Aquila"] she gave a nod to if she caught their eyes. She didn’t know them too well either but she did recognize their own. Members of the Outer Rim were also filtering in. Some of the Confederacy were standing off to the side and she felt a small shiver.

They didn’t look particularly threatening but their presence in the Force made her heart skip. Darkness.

“Do you know who they are?”, Gianna questioned John, nodding toward [member="Atlas Drake"]. He had the stature and poise of an officer while murmuring something she couldn’t hear to a flaxen-haired woman. She would have laughed to know that the target of her inquiry was asking the very same question.

A man [[member="Voph"]] approached them and the young woman remained quiet while soft words were exchanged. Gia didn't need to know unless John felt like telling her.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

His hood was drawn out of respect as he entered the room, immediately taking up a position near the door. In unison with [member="Madalena Antares"], the other Knight Commander of the Knights Obsidian, the Confederacy offered two of its finest as security for those gathered here. Other groups might have brought their own security detail, but in Golbah City, the Southern Systems spared no expense to assure things went fluidly.

At least it wasn't paperwork. [member="Elessar Talon"] by some stroke of devilish genius decided to put Alkor straight to the pen upon his agreement to help lead the Knights Obsidian, and he had been buried beneath various documents for several weeks. On the other hand, Madalena had never seen so much action- perhaps that was all according to design.

Experience in their weakest aspects was, after all, the best way to accustom them to their new positions.

He looked on as the Vicelord- his Brother- and the Exarchs exchanged greetings with the delegation from the Silver Jedi, the Outer Rim Coalition, and though he had not seen any sign of them yet, there was word that members of the Imperial Bloc in the Core might appear. It was a grim business they intended to discuss, and Alkor had asked not to be made part of it.

Despite his authority on the topic, [member="Srina Talon"] had agreed- provided he agreed to stand in defense of those gathered. He saw no reason to disagree to those terms. His only visible weapons were lightsaber hilts at either hip, and he stood comfortably with both hands folded behind his back.

This was a battlefield for politicians, not Knights.