Faction Social Upheaval || The Confederacy

[zzRookal the Hutt]

Rookal the Hutt looked around at the finely dressed people mingling about. Lots of very important movers and shakers about today, He would fit right in. He had spent a lot of credits securing an invitation and an opening to speak here. He was attending as a philanthropic allied businessman and also as something if a refugee himself, the Hutts having no space of their own any more. He shuffled in, he was recieved some very odd and somewhat judgemental looks from some of the attendees, but the guards checked his paperwork and he was ushered in to his allocated spot. It wasn't the greatest spot, but if he had paid too much and been front and centre the fact that he was out of place would have stood out too much and questions would be asked.

He checked his data slab, the correct files had been uploaded for transmission during his speech. He was proud of this deal he was offering, but would the confederacy take it? They could be narrow minded and there were still many prejudices about his species. Such as suspecting them of bribing government officials he thought ironically.

This deal would genuinely help people, sure the company stood to make a fortune out of it if things went well, but things were rarely done for pure altruism. Even the world's offering to help the crisis would certainly have factored in the economic risks and benefits to an influx of potential workers, after all, refugees were typically useful people, seeing as they were the ones capable of leaving.

He waited and listened. A lot of big numbers a lot of heartening words, how many of these leaders were here counting the beans like he was?

Eventually it was his allocated time to speak. There were some strange looks, he wasn't a leader, or anyone really of note in their circles, but here he was and his name was on the roster.

"Good day honorable leaders of the Confederacy. I, am Rookal Tol Jueliek, leader of Juebiek holdings. I come to you as an ally and a man who hopes to use his wealth and connections to help do just a little to aid your crisis."

He waited a moment, to see the response, at least people were paying attention.

"My proposal, which you should currently be receiving" he hit send on his pad and other delegates received data available notifications on their own pads. "My proposal is to allow my organisation to take some of the refugees, on a voluntary basis of course, and put them to work around the whole confederacy, to dilute the new concentration of workers around monastery. This work would be accompanied by integration training, helping them learn the laws and customs of your great confederacy. They would be hired out at a low rate to appropriate world, subject to ethical approval, and that money would go to feeding and housing the refugees, with some being put aside as a resettlement stiped. This would be given to the refugee on completion of the program, allowing them the funds to resettle as a valued citizen rather than a burden on society."

There seemed to be a mixed bag of facial expressions but he continued.

"What my company would ask in return, and I know everyone here will understand the costs involved in the current situation. Is a small fee, per migrant, to cover initial costs, use of infrastructure and costs associated with people leaving the program early. As a show of good faith from us, this fee will be split in half, the first half up front and the second after the refugee completes the program. I hope this assures some of you who may be assuming a Hutt will take these people and dissappear them".

"So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you my Earned Citizenship program. We beleive we have the capacity for 600 thousand initially with a potential 1 million more shortly after. Thank you"

Rookal sat down and awaited responses.

 

[Bastille Rommer]

S O V E R E I G N

Tag: Darth Metus | Srina Talon | Matthew Locke | Svana Neoma | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | Agravain | Draelos | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Aether the Iron | Elsasca Selcoc | Gerwald Lechner | Oleander Webb

Naboo's sun shone weakly on the small garden world.

It was almost cold to Bastille, a man who'd lived all of his life under the punishing rays of Ra'Katha's star. On Ra'Katha, life that was weak was simply not permitted to exist. They burned in the day, ran dry in the night. It was a brutal, savage cycle; but one that forged a planet that was strong. Mercy unfettered only lead to weakness, and without a culling blade the herd was dragged down by the slow and sickly.

Such was the harsh truth of existence. Only those ruthless enough could advance in this galaxy; those who weren't merely survived, and even that was no given. And now the Confederacy was being called on by soft politicians to take the dregs of the galaxy; not uplift them, give them charge in their own lives, help reclaim their homeland from the warring powers that had displaced them, but to merely let them become a burden.

If Bastille was a man of pure principle, he would argue vehemently against it. But the dichotomy of strong and weak was only the first rule that had been established on Ra'Katha. For if someone was able to circumvent the conflict entirely, they would rise above both. And that was what Bastille planned to do.

In the bright orange and yellow robes of the Ra'Kathan Kemotar, Bastille was a polarizing figure in the Viceroyalty chambers. He had not been coy on his positions before, and in many cases his opposition to the bureaucracy of the Confederacy had led to conflict. Embarrassing blunders, false accusations, even an attempt to arrest him on made-up charges in this very chamber. . . yet he had weathered them all. The sigil of the all-seeing sun stood unbowed, unbent, and unbroken.

He sat in his seat in a semi-reclined position, a leg crossed over the other while his head rested in his palm, feigning indifference as bickering played out on the chambers before them. A minor crisis of eighty-million refugees from the war-torn Galactic North. 'Minor' was an overstatement; in a nation of trillions, a few million beings was an accounting error, not something that required federal action. But to complain would be just as pointless, for there was an opportunity for Bastille to use this to further his own means. And so when the Viceroy of the Surric System's ever-fiery speech finally ended, Bastille took to the floor, his robes flowing under him as he stood to address the chambers.

But his stance would not be one that likely would've been predicted.

"Are we not a nation of refugees?" He asked rhetorically, his voice measured and calm, a stark contrast to the speaker before him. He'd neglected his usual formalities to address the meat of the matter. "I recall that the Confederacy was formed as a pact of the Southern Systems to combat the exploitation of the Core and Empires. Have we strayed so far from our roots, that we would forsake the brothers and sisters at our doorstep, fleeing from the very same evil that the Confederacy was founded to fight against?"

"These are not terrorists, nor must they prove their suffering to be allowed within our borders," Bastille stated pointillé, casting an obvious glance in the direction of Viceroy Wolf. "They were not here when Ryloth burned, no, but neither was ninety-nine-percent of the Confederacy. They seek refuge because their homes are gone, and they come to us destitute because there is nowhere else to go."

He looked around the chamber. "This is a matter too dire to wait on the whims of citizenship. Our immigration system is already overburdened by the daily expansion of new worlds and star systems into the Confederacy. Let these refugees be granted temporary residency in lieu of citizenship, so that they might be more readily admitted and resettled without being hampered by the slow-moving gears of bureaucracy." Bastille nodded his head before sweeping out his robes from behind him to take his seat, intent on watching the reception in the chamber that his proposal would have.
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[Laertia Io]

Wearing; Ursula's Robes

Armed with: Sword of Cinndurr

With: Model 1 Nuetralizer


A guest had been invited to the Viceroyalty Chamber that day.

Someone who could offer a unique perspective on not only the crisis, but what caused it.

She wasn't sure how, but the press had gotten wind of her arrival at Naboo. Someone had leaked it.

To many, she was a vile, insane traitor pumping out sadistic war droids with an innate and depraved sense of humor. To others, she was a crusader under severe pressure, forced to fight multiple factions to preserve as many assets as possible against a vicious enemy consumed by hateful mania. For fighting the Bryn'adul, for being able to slaughter so many of an enemy that made regular mincemeat out of other, highly trained soldiers and Adepts, and to kill them in spectacular, gory fashion, she had become a legend overnight in some circles.

She had been under fire for some time now. She didn't know how to react to all the attention she was getting.

Once, she had dreamed of being a high paid magician, doing tricks for the wonders of the audience. Except there wasn't much room to be a practical effects magician in a Galaxy full of real sorcerers.

She missed her rabbits, having let Moya take them rather than keep putting them in danger. She wished she could pet and hug and squeeze one when she was frightened. Like she always was now, always on the look out for an Assassin's bolt, or a Jedi Shadow's blade.

But she wasn't prepared for a hundred different cameras on her as she stepped off her Ship, the Fury-Interceptor inspired Shadow Bride, wearing the white ceremonial robes of "Ursula" . She was soon given a wide birth from the flashes at the Skeletal menace that followed her down the ramp.

It was one of the infamous Model 1's. He was wearing only a long, dark green cape with a hood over his skull.

Their reputation had only grown after Sarka, their legendary brutality whispered by survivors of their assaults.

"Laertia! Care to give us something good, for our viewers?" One cameraman asked.

"Yes." Darth Xiphos said. She looked right at the camera.

"The most common Bryn'adul have two hearts, shielded by natural bone armor. Aim here and here for maximum effect." She explained, showing her own torso for where to aim before heading to the chambers, The Model 1 silent as it followed. It had to wait outside the chambers of course, as there was no way a Droid that lethal was going into the Viceroyalty chambers.

There were murmurs amongst some as the Infamous Black Knight of Nar Kreeta silently headed in, taking a seat close to the floor. She didn't say anything yet, wanting to get a feel for the local politics before speaking, a feel for the personalities present.

She was but a mere defector to the CIS, yet had played a vital role in multiple military campaigns often as the only member of the CIS actually present. She had also presented no less than Darth Metus with schematics for Anti-Bryn weaponry. She wasn't a complete nobody. But she still held no official standing. She was effectively a friendly rogue.

Xiphos spotted Srina Talon in attendance. Whoa. Everyone was here...

Xiphos waited for another Viceroy to speak, ears keen for details on the people and planets they represented...

OOC: Ascendant Muse gave the ok for me to post here.

 

[Hester Shedo]

HESTER SHEDO
MINISTER OF INFLUENCE



Hester rolled her eyes.

Not the eyes that everybody could see every day, focusing intently on the machinations of those she spoke with. Not the eyes she used to watch for threats to her own position. Not the eyes she deployed to see into the very soul of enemies to the Confederacy. These were the eyes she kept to herself, inwardly hidden in her mind. Her visage would remain the same, a picture of serenity and calm.

Her elevation to a position within the Federal Government had been welcomed; a chance to not just serve her home of Scarif but the Confederacy at large. Minister of Influence carried with it great responsibility and accountability to a host of people. It also carried with it some power and sway in the running of the government's agenda. This was one such moment.

Some years prior, Hester had begun the task of focusing on the plight of those escaping from the Sith Empire and its wars. Untold numbers of souls, fleeing into the Abrion Pact's sphere of influence. Crisis after crisis ended the same way; innocents fleeing to hold together what little they could scrape out of their homes before mindless destruction wiped it from the planet's surface.

Bastille Rommer was addressing the floor again. They had sparred several times and he was a famous Viceroy within the government's circle. She did not deny his obscene charm and attractiveness but his delivery was a little...rough.

She recalled her own communique, from some time prior, that detailed her position. It had been widely circulated anonymously and had made headlines. She smirked. It was funny when you left things lying around for aides to find, encrypt and send to the press agencies.

"We have seen great swathes of peoples forced out of their own environs, owing to incursions from foreign and predatory powers, bent on wreaking a wrathful path of destruction and chaos in their wake.

We have seen our Allies forced to defend their homeworlds from jealous rivals, invaders with machinations set upon coveting that which is not theirs by right.

We are compelled, not by edict, but by a moral plenitude, afforded to us so assuredly by our Charter. We see with certainty, as the very stars around us, that the very first principle set down in our mandate for governance is that of the guaranteed right to autonomy.

We now see truculent and envious forces, marshaled in strength, set to combat the very nature and autonomy of our neighbours; those that enjoy a shared and common set of values.

We are seeing countless refugees, flooding the borders of our Confederacy, systems ill-prepared to handle the compassionate undertaking of asylum and protection.

We see refugees escaping from war-torn battlefields, their own homes decimated with the flick of a switch, countless families rent from their homes with little but the clothes on their backs to shelter them.

We must shelter them. Our moral obligation to uphold the Charter that we live by far outweighs the punitive and protective purpose of the original Order. Whilst we are able to, we must see fit to allow those that are escaping from war, unfairly brought to them by aggressors, to find a new hope within our brotherhood of planets.

Change has indeed come to the Galaxy and we must ensure the protection of those who reside within it.

Those who uphold the key tenets of self-determination and autonomy.

Those that uphold the core belief that, together, we can achieve a greater Confederacy of commonality and consonance, far outweighing the selfish and assiduous resolve of our enemies.

I urge you, as not only a Viceroy charged with the protection of the Confederacy but as a Citizen, charged with the protection of its Charter, to allow for the immediate embargo of Application of Asylum to be lifted.

We must ensure the that the cry of Confederacy is not lost within the chaos of war or self-regarding posturing from those around us."

She had so enjoyed penning the communique. She loved a fiery speech. Her time for that, for now, was ended. She sat beneath the Presidium and watched intently.




Tag Darth Metus Srina Talon Matthew Locke Svana Neoma Jordar Varcskel Imperia von Sorenn Darth Elyria Raven Thystle Agravain
Draelos Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera Aether the Iron Elsasca Selcoc Gerwald Lechner Oleander Webb Bastille Rommer zzRookal the Hutt

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[Aether the Iron]

Wearing: Verd Beskar'gam Mk. III​

GOLBAH HILL, THEED

The Mandalorian felt rooted to his seat.

It was the strangest sensation: to feel as though his throat had closed. To feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly within their crushgaunts. On paper it made no sense. Why was her feeling this way when he had stared down all manner of hells? He could ride into battle. He could burn into fortifications. He could hunt down the most dangerous sods in the 'Rim. But standing in front of some politicians and saying something? That was what lost Aether his nerve? No. It wasn't the fact that aging sods were his audience this day. No. Their opinions mattered less than a wet fart to the Mandalorian.

The people whose opinions mattered most were in attendance - those who had given him the gift of life. They were watching. Waiting. He could feel it.

And after having such a burden thrust upon him, what son would want to fail? This wasn't a question of how to load a blaster or how to properly breach a room. This was a question where literal billions of lives were at stake. Aether wasn't a career politician, he was a warrior! This wasn't his battlefield. But he had to succeed. Failure wasn't an option. He just had to move. Whilst grappling with these thoughts, the opening statements of the Viceroyalty commenced.

Ukio suggested each member world take on some of the burden. For many tackling a large number would make the number not so massive.

Linuri urged caution and vowed material assets to the cause.

Stewjon pledged to take in two million refugees.

Fondor was willing to accept a limited number and pledged further assistance.

Surric literally caused murmors to erupt about the room from his empassioned speech. In essence, the refugees were not Confederates. They carried with them the ideals of other nations. They could be anyone or anything - threats to the nation. In his mind, there was no telling what harm they could wreak. To resolve this, he suggested that they become citizens of the Confederacy and leave behind former allegiances.

Following that tough act was Rookal the Hutt. He offered an Earned Citizenship Program that would see the refugees working across the South.

Lastly, Ra'Katha rose to answer Surric. He refuted the notion that the refugees were threats and suggested that the refugees be granted temporary residency in lieu of citizenship.

There was so much to unpack from all of this. Which did not make voicing anything easier on the part of the Mandalorian. But, he did exactly what his mother advised at the outset. He remembered to breathe. In drawing steady breaths, he focused upon his kin. His world. His people. What was best for them? When thinking about this, he knew that Krant was not an economic superpower. It was the holdings of his family's corporation that provided most of the world's stability. Therefore, there wouldn't be much work or places to go if refugees landed there. Krant had next to nothing for them currently - which was an issue he'd have to come back to after the session.

So, what then? What was the answer? Aether steeled himself when the realization clicked. Raising his dominant hand, ascension gripped him.

"Recognizing Viceroy Aether Verd of Krant." came the words of the Speaker. Breathe.

"Greetings." he began, offering a quick nod. "Like Fondor - ah - the esteemed Viceroy of Fondor had said, Krant is also not in a position to accept a large influx of refugees." He folded his hands before him, not entirely sure what to do with them while he spoke.

"But, we do have shipyards. Many of us have shipyards - including the federal government. What if we shifted production towards building a station - or stations - to house the refugees?" He offered a nod in the direction of Surric's representative. "This way, if there are any threats, they will be in one location. Not on any of our worlds."

He then nodded to the representative of Ra'Katha. "And, this way, there is nothing moving slow. We churn out capital ships weekly, surely if we all worked together, we can build something large enough quickly."

With thus said, Aether raised his hand to advise the speaker that his time was yielded. He sat down immediately with no fanfare whatsoever. Moreover, he averted his gaze from the Presidium's podium. He went with his gut. He thought he did well. But he wasn't bold enough to examine the looks on his mother or father's faces.

Hester Shedo | Bastille Rommer | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Srina Talon​

 

[Draelos]

V Y L M I R A
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Draelos waited and watched quietly as solution after problem was thrown to the void of the chamber. He waited his turn as businessmen sought to make a profit, and planets bickered among themselves. The question had quickly turned from could to should. Should the Confederacy help these people? He drew a deep breath, then stood, signaling his intent to speak. He waited for the speaker to grant him permission, but stayed silent a moment longer. The tilt at which he held his head indicated he was still in thought, as if not entirely sure what he planned to say.

"Why do we fight? Brothers? Sisters? Why?" Draelos had never been one for grand speeches. This was evident in his soft spoken manner. "For freedom. For peace. And it is a peace that others wish to share in. Tantalizing. Alluring. And we are proud to offer it, are we not? The hard fought fruits of our labors?"

Draelos paused, his eyes lingering on certain individuals around the room. Srina Talon . Hester Shedo . Those that had known the notable members of Vylmira best. "My planet has sacrificed much. Both for her own, and for yours. For Peace. It was, as one of the great leaders of Vylmira once said, 'I fight for a peace I may never live to see.' And here we have the chance to offer that peace. To welcome the abused and downtrodden with open arms. To honor the sacrifice that so many have made. He may not have lived to see peace, but I know the maker-damned certainty that it is what he would have wanted. It is not our right, it is not our choice, but our duty to help those who cannot help themselves.

To this end, Vylmira is willing to extend a hand. Both to give, and to receive. Efforts to rebuild after the Cataclysm do not leave our planet capable of the feats of philanthropy it once was. But that does not change our willingness. The Colony of Vylmira is but a single city upon a vast planet ripe for agriculture and hunting. We can house the people. We just need help building the houses. Vylmira's pledge is to accept the maximum number of refugees willing to come to the planet as colonists, and live off the frontier. And failing that, the maximum number of refugees we may support with aid from our sister planets. Vylmira choses to honor the sacrifice of the fallen. And we pray that you will as well. I yield the floor."

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

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FOR THE CHEAP SEATS​

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Visanj exhaled slowly in quiet lamentation, drawing the cigarillo from her pocket and lighting it. Taking a long drag and closing her eyes as she exhaled, she shook her head. She leaned back against the wall inside of the Viceroyalty’s chambers and listened to the competing choruses of politicians as they eagerly debated the merits of the mounting refugee situation. To hear the various posturing and declarations, so zealously and eloquently trivializing the profound complexities of the matter into jingoistic sound bites and virtue-signaling reminded her of the reasons why she found democracy so painfully tedious.​

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Politicians, she thought, the tremendous exemplars of inefficiency and blind rhetoric applied liberally to reality. No wonder Palpatine embraced imperialism. She shook her head and took another drag. Producing the flask from her pocket, she nudged the Twi’lek journalist beside her and offered the man a drink. He cast her an annoyed look and shook his head ‘no’.​

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“I get it, you’re working,” She took a slug, “Me too. Some of us can multi-task, I understand, it’s not a gift most non-sentient’s possess.” He shot her a second nasty glance. “Don’t worry, you’ll evolve…I believe in you.” She shot back, replacing the flask inside of her pocket, then sliding her fading smoke into his as she walked on to the back of the room.​

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Refugees. Nothing new. Her own system had begun that very same way, centuries ago. Refugees, flooding from every corner of the galaxy, fleeing imperial tyranny and galactic civil war, joined with flocks of freed slaves, fugitives, pirates, and Force-knows what else. Of course, build a wall, because no one in the galaxy owns a ladder. Brilliant, you feted moron. You were up all afternoon thinking that speech up weren’t you? She winced at the pompous nationalist garbage, only to wince harder at the rebuttals. Yes, yes, take them all in. Why vet them? Who needs a plan? We’re just winging this like it’s an audible play in the arena. Why the feth not? As if this matter can be solved with snappy ideas and clever speeches. These are people, and like any group of people, there will be varying needs and demands, and unless we can meet them we will fail one of their factions and set ourselves up for all manner of fun later. We must be prudent. Now is the time for care and measured response. The balancing act of preserving our own stability and security with the moral imperatives of our ideals. The discussion is not ‘if’, only ‘how’, and we ought to be having a mature conversation about that now. But then, we’ve gathered politicians for this discussion, and so it can only be this for now. She shook her head once more.​

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As she found her place near the back of the chambers, she moved to ascend one of the pods and floated to the fore. The Viceroyal Chambers were cavernous. Theatre in the round. Surrounding her stood nearly every single glorious someone or something, a myriad of jolly titles and pretty paper tigers. Force, I hate politics.​

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Seeing a lull, Visanj cleared her throat and assumed control over the address system:​

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“My Fellow Confederates…” Her voice booming through the chamber, she continued. “I make it my policy never to interrupt your deliberations of policy, but today I am making an exception. We stand at the edge of history. Perhaps not in our time has war and hardship so plagued the galaxy, and not in our time have so many called for succor. But we are here, and those calls must be answered…” She paused for effect.​

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“We deal not with numbers in a ledger, but with sentient beings and real concerns. I caution you to remember this. If we cannot answer, or worse, do not answer, our silence will be our failure and the basis of history’s judgment. We have never shied from history, nor shall we start now! The Confederacy of Independent Systems has always stood as a model of action guided by ideals. Remember those ideals now! To make right the master of might, to bind together the various and disparate cultures of the galaxy in a consortium, a lasting partnership of mutual cause and respect. Such ideals do not extend merely to worlds and systems, but to those who inhabit them, and not merely to those within our space, but to all sentient beings! An opportunity stands before us, and we would be fools not to take it! How better to illuminate our ideals, the very character of our Confederacy, than to answer!”​

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“Which world and system among us hasn’t some need which cannot be met by new voices, new hands, and new ideas? Is every voice, hand, and idea which now stands before us suited to every world and system among us? No. In light of this, let us quit pretending to posture and postulate about ‘if’, but instead show the galaxy our truth by debating the ‘how’. Of course, we cannot unload this burden onto one world, or even to a single system. I would never ask any one system and world among us. Isn’t this why we have built ourselves a Confederacy? Because we are stronger united than apart? So let us continue that now, and share equally in the solution to this challenge. Each of us has needs and desires, just as these refugees will have needs and desires particular to them. We must find the compatibilities there, and make the hard compromises. What Naboo can bear is not what Geonosis can, and what Ra’Katha’s needs are are not the needs of Scarif. Our answers lie not in questioning our inclusivity but in exploiting our diversity! Prudence, dear Confederates, that is our solution!”​

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“And with prudence must come caution. We must not merely answer history, we must direct it! Just as we assess the needs and demands of this situation, so must we address the perils and pitfalls inherent within it! We must screen them, in the interests of our national health, security, and interests. Discern from them specific resources and apply them where most effective. Discover if there be wolves among the flock, and guard our gates from those who come with malicious intent. This is not some pithy discussion of petty nuance, but a decision which requires that the entire Confederacy rise with singular vision and chorus to navigate, and to declare to the whole of the galaxy beyond our shores in one voice that we are the beacon that promises freedom, prosperity, and dignity to all without preference or prejudice… that we are the standard by which all corners of Sky River is to be held against…that we are the shining citadel we have always been! Do this, and – do it right – and history will forever mark this as the moment our actions and ideals were fused into one star, an undimmable light, an undeniable truth, the promise of which has no boundary in time or space!”​

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Visanj paused, drew another cigarillo from her pocket and lit it, smirking this time as she inhaled.​

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“…or, don’t. Either way, I am sure that teetotaling jackanape over there,” she pointed to the Twi’lek with the holo-cam and the disdain for free scotch from before, “I am certain he will tell the galaxy a story tomorrow. Your choice: Your story or his. Now, if you will excuse me, I don’t want to be here anymore.”​

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With that, she leaped from the pod and fell to the floor of the chambers below and walked to the rear doors, never looking back as she passed into the hall and finally out into the bright Naboo sun.​

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Someone said something about a party at Shorehaven…definitely the red two-piece, she thought as the waiting luxury speeder opened its door to reveal several scantily-clad female Twi’lek dancers of pink, blue, and red hues beckoning her inside. Diversity is important.​

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Hester Shedo | Bastille Rommer | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Srina Talon

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Hester Shedo Hester | Bastille Rommer | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Visanj T'shkali + [OPEN]
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One by one, two by two, they filtered into Golbah Hill.

Mercurial orbs watched with a stalwart perception that would give the assembled Viceroy the impression that the Exarch was made of stone. She seemed to be looking through them, dissecting, rather than viewing them as living, breathing organic beings. It would have been true. She sought motivations. She cataloged the micro-expressions that couldn’t be hidden and compared them to autonomic responses. The flaring of nostrils, the dilation of a pupil, a breath taken too quickly.

What they wore, how they walked, who they spoke to.

The strangest sensation that caused her to shift lazily in the high-backed chair was an almost overwhelming sense of insecurity. Who in this room had the inexperience and undeniable malfeasance to walk into this hall, stand before this governing body, without a spine? Her lips twitched nearly imperceptibly while she pressed the unwanted emotion away from her. The nebulous dark that surrounded her core fell into flux while she continued to take stock.

If they felt like they were being judged?

They were.

Her fellow Exarch ( John Locke ) arrived and her low, svelte voice, slipped like a honeyed song from beneath her darkened veil. “Locke.”, though, it was nearly a growl that would slide up his spine. She was nowhere near John Locke nor the Viceroy of Stewjon ( Matthew Locke ) but the technological guru would hear her nonetheless. Her voice carried with ease where and when she wanted it to.

Cold eyes surveyed a petite creature ( Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera ) and found her stance to be somewhat satisfactory. Her posture was pleasing, though, an aura of unmitigated wealth seemed to keep a pert nose high in the air. Srina despised bureaucrats as a general rule but she didn’t know this one well enough. At the very least—She could tell the woman was of noble birth and sound mind.

Her carriage and bearing would allow for nothing else.

Raven Thystle sat not terribly far from her and she had also seen the Vylmiran representative by the name of Draelos. The strength of the red-haired woman evened out the disturbance in the Force that made her grind her teeth together. This was regarding refugees. Not, battle plans.

Though Srina wasn’t so sure it shouldn’t have been. Time was of the essence. another discussion, for another day.

War was always on the horizon. It was only a matter of time. When the rest of the galaxy found stagnation in their endeavors it would be easy to find a sorry, sad excuse, to attack the Sith-led Southern Systems.

She could feel eyes on her person and her head rose so she could see her voyeur. It was only fair, considering, she had retained her fill of the participants with or without their knowledge. The eyes of her wolf met her own and silver clashed with blue skies as his words rolled through her cranium. Her first notion was to rebuke him for questioning the Vicelord—But she relented and swallowed her ire. Softened, for the Lord Commander.

<<The tedium has only just begun. Do not count the moments lest you make it longer still, my wolf.>>

It would have been too easy for Darth Metus to make an executive decision, however, that wasn’t how the Confederacy operated unless national defense necessitated that particular overreach. Surely, Gerwald Lechner would know better. <<Do not let the whelp at your side fall asleep during the proceedings. They are dull, but a Knight must endure.>>

Tête-à-tête. He questioned her Master; She questioned his student.

Agravain began to take the floor just as a familiar touch brushed against her shoulder. A cooling wave of darkness soothed her piqued disposition and the presence of her Master brought her momentary peace. If only he wasn’t tainted by the hellwitch at his side. Her focus turned back to the Viceroy for Ukio and she listened while he engaged the speaker. A fair question. How many souls were displaced?

Elsasca Selcoc took issue with the proposal for fair reasons, though, seemed to lean toward his way of thinking. If adequate compensation could be arranged it seemed likely that her vote could be swayed. Matthew Locke would accept refugees from Stewjon. Oh, his nervousness was palpable. It seemed that he was very different from his brother indeed.

She could sense Amelia von Sorenn —Only, it was not Amelia. It took Srina a moment to realize that the demure creature was actually kin to the former Grand Marshal. It wasn’t strange to see Imperia here, considering, a pacifist stance. Jordar Varcskel shared what Fondor could offer and Srina let her eyes flicker over Svana Neoma , the beautiful, birdlike Queen of Naboo. Were she not bound by the laws of gravity Srina half wondered if she might not take flight to somewhere safer, warmer, and most certainly not at this meeting of minds. She might have dwelled longer on the dark-haired woman but her focus was stolen by Draconis Sederius Wolf .

That man could speak at great length. And by the Moon, he did.

Srina sighed deeply. There was much to unpack from his statements, though, patriotism eked from every pore. She too had been on Ryloth. She too had witnessed the death of their people. The deeds of the Agents of Chaos were not the deeds of these refugees, even, if some had been complicit. They had been lured by a woman made insane. She would have responded to the statements made but the voice of zzRookal the Hutt cut through.

Unusual, though, not the worst proposal...At least. At first blush. Bitter grey orbs bored holes into the bulbous head of the Hutt without apology. It was the endeavor of a merchant seeking to profit from the suffering of others while painting it as a relief effort. An earned Citizenship Program?

Perhaps it was because she hadn’t had a chance to review it fully, but it reminded her of indentured servitude. Slavery, by any other name. They had never treated any refugees with such targeted greed and inhumanity in the past. Never. It made sense economically, however, these were living, breathing people, not credits in a machine to be balanced.

Would that be how the freedom they fought and bled for died?​

On the best of days, she had never expected to find herself agreeing with Bastille Rommer so readily. They required security, safety, and certain protocols to handle such an influx of people—But to start their existence within their borders at a detriment? It left something very…Unsettled, within her heart. She loathed it. Both in deed and in name.

The Exarch heard of the prolific Neutralizer unit through security channels before she saw Laertia Io enter. There was no way for the KO outside Golbah Hill to miss such a skeletal menace, especially, because they were nearly more terrifying than the Magnaguard Srina favored. She knew of the woman that arrived with the imposing droid and was deeply disturbed by its existence even though it had been left outside. It was a meeting of Viceroy. Not a Citadel. Srina turned her head and rose a singular eyebrow toward her Master but said nothing more. At least, not yet.

Hester Shedo , the Minister of Influence, would no doubt fall on the side of the people. For it was the everyday common man and woman who sang the praises of the Minister that had supported delivering them from their sorrows. It might have been the right thing to do; But it would also ensure that she was beloved in the Droid Nation. Compassion, where others, would have none.

It seemed that Hester was a very practical woman.

Aether the Iron…Srina had no word, for this King of Krant. He was the progeny of her Master by some mystical means but he was also the direling of the craven beast known as Darth Elyria . She wanted to find value in him. To find something that would lead her back to Darth Metus …But she had reason to pause. Reason, to look at him through guarded orbs. He was part of her. She who would call the night her carriage and death her gift. Srina did not trust the malevolent Lady Elyria and it made it extremely difficult to trust her offspring in turn.

Draelos made an impassioned speech that only supported Bastille Rommer , Hester Shedo , and many others. Visanj T'shkali , Minister of Science, took the floor in a smooth, calm fashion, and echoed many of the sentiments that poured forward. The white-haired woman waited for her to finish before a subtle movement caught the attention of the Speaker and he nodded toward her, temporarily, granting her the floor.

“It seems that we have a variety of issues to disseminate and conquer and less than adequate time to do it in. The longer we take—The more overwhelmed Monastery and the surrounding systems become. The more these refugees, and by proxy our citizens, suffer needlessly.”, the wintry woman spoke, without emotion, or any empathy to speak of. Srina was not always known for being compassionate in these proceedings. Occasionally, she sentenced men to a fate worse than death. Occasionally, she sent them to hell. “We can draw from many of the ideas that have been brought to bear so that we may lessen the burden, plus, ensure the security of our nation. I fought with our people on Ryloth prepared to live or die amongst them. I know the color of our blood and the fierceness of our blade and the rest of the galaxy has not yet forgotten our ability to strike when required. If they had? We wouldn’t be on their lips, now.”

“The time for war is coming, make no mistake—But it not this day.”

“Today—We have a crisis to mitigate. Shelter, food, and water to provide. They may not yet be of our citizenry but that has never stopped us in the past. I move to formulate an acceptable plan to settle these refugees appropriately before disaster strikes while they are in a holding pattern. Hunger, fear, and despair will break the strongest of men. They will do terrible things when they feel that there is no hope and no way out as it is human nature to do so. To fight, to survive. It is possible that violence and rioting may soon follow our inaction, which, would require a firm hand to correct. This is what these victims face, what our sister systems will face whilst we…Debate on even if we should, act.”

Srina paused for a moment. Her voice was always something strange and otherworldly to behold. It struck the heart of those who heard it with a sense of duty, purpose, and was nigh thunderous—But it was a mere whisper that flowed forward. “Moreover…I will not accept the placement of any man, woman, or child fleeing war-torn territory in thinly veiled bondage. I do not place people in chains."

“Economic, or otherwise.”

 

[zzRookal the Hutt]

"Moreover…I will not accept the placement of any man, woman, or child fleeing war-torn territory in thinly veiled bondage. I do not place people in chains."

“Economic, or otherwise.”

Rookal could feel the eyes burning into him as Srina Talon spoke. This was clearly aimed in his direction, but he was ready for this sort of reaction and it didn't bother him. He knew this assement was based purely on him being a Hutt, if only she had been allowed the time to review his offer properly, before trying to torpedo it. Maybe he should have had a human employee pitch it?

He knew that were she to read it, the transparency concessions that he had included, specifically for the likes of her, should hopefully be enough. He had even invited confederate oversight in his ethical considerations. He made a note on his pad of her name, maybe someone to speak to one to one, to assure her that Hutts could apply their great intellects to more than just crude slavery.

 

[Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera]

So many mighty and illustrious people had spoken. Opinions and clear statements were made no one could ignore.

Now was the right time to make her own entrance. Lady Pawla was young and small, but radiated the self-esteem of an experienced speaker. Her presence was hardly to ignore. A natural charisma and a keen mind were obvious as she spoke with a soft, but stern voice. A perfect example of the pedigree of 12 000 years of noble bloodlines that affected more than once the fate of the entire galaxy.
She put her heraldic rod under her armpit like a drill sergeant of the Royal Mecetti Guard.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Sers and Seras of the esteemed Viceroyality.

I am the humble messenger of the senate of Procopia, the ruling body of government of the Tapani sector and the Shay Tapani oversector with the League of Free Worlds and Giju and Fondor as associates.

I am nothing but a descendent of refugees myself, so I and all of Tapani are fully sympathetic to the cries for help and relief by these poor souls seeking shelter.

We have already acted as you are still seeking for a solution. It is our nobless oblige to help you in whatever you will decide. We rest assured you will find a wise decision and so the senate has already declared a humanitarian aid budget you could use as you see fit.
It will give you the freedom to realize your vision for the future.

Tapani would also help with logistic problems. In cooperation with Fondor we could easily produce cheap and fast transport vessels - and of course our renowned warships to protect such convoys.

As all sectors do we have also hundreds of worlds scarcely developed or entirely uninhabited too. We could easily take in refugees if they would be willing to integrate into our society.
My humble home world Grindera for example was settled by deported criminals of House Pelagia in old times and is now a stalwart example of a hard-working and widely excepted proud people of House Mecetti.

As was so wisely said before: History will judge us!"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

R E A C T I O N​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Srina Talon | John Locke | Matthew Locke | Visanj T'shkali | zzRookal the Hutt | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Aether the Iron | Darth Elyria | Svana Neoma | Bastille Rommer | Raven Thystle | Draelos | Imperia von Sorenn | Jordar Varcskel | Oleander Webb | Agravain | Aeson Rora | Laertia Io | Hester Shedo | ANYONE I MISSED | OPEN

Gerwald smiled at the response his associate gave in regards to the small history lesson as to why he needed to be ready for anything. What seemed like drowsiness to some had become something Gerwald was used to in his compatriot. Oleander Webb was a well trained and lethal warrior. Stealth and quick strikes were one with his nature. The predator may have seemed docile, but he was anything but.

Oleander’s question came as @Srina Talon’s rebuke crossed his mind. Did he know any of them?

“I am not AS impatient as I once was, however, this seems like an executive decision from the start and would not be an overreach of Metus’ power. This debate only serves to show those who embody the ideals of our Confederacy, and prolong the suffering of those who need aid.”

His thoughts would explain himself as Oleander would wait in silence for Gerwald’s answer.

“As for my student. He may appear to be sleeping, but the Anzat is as aware of what is happening here as well as you, I would imagine.”

His eyes left his white haired mistress and returned to the Anzat.

“I know a few faces. Exarch Talon I know rather well. We were just talking about you in fact.”

The lupine offered Oleander a wolfish grin as his eyes turned back to the delegates. Many of them began to speak and give their opinions. Srina had not been wrong in how tedious the session would be. Every voice made Gerwald wish Prazitus had not resurrected him during the torture which had led to Darth Omnia rescuing him. He knew this was part of his lot as Lord Commander now. Not only did he provide security, but on matters like this his voice would be called upon at some point in time.

He was just glad it was not now.

Eyes fell to the new Viceroy of Stewjon Matthew Locke once more. They grew wide at how easily the man offered to take two million refugees. He was either trying to impress, or he was just tossing an arbitrary number. Could Stewjon handle two million? Did the new Viceroy know of the evils which still plagued the mindset of many of the population. Perhaps this would be the disruption needed to finally bring an end to the caste system which saw many people fail to reach their individual potential.

Draconis Sederius Wolf bloviated on as he usually did. While Gerwald could not find fault in his caution, he did not see how it helped those who needed aid now. This was not simply whether the Confederacy could handle more refugees. They already did not have room for the ones they had already screened. Taking more, that wasn’t even a debate if they could not handle those they currently protected.

There were more voices, and more ideas, but one, and only one, caused Gerwald to stir. zzRookal the Hutt proposed something which seemed akin to indentured servitude. Perhaps he had worked hard to ensure it was not blatant slavery, but it came to close to the line. Why should anyone profit off the plight, or the situation, at hand. While the idea itself may have checked all the correct boxes technically, there was still something about it which seemed wrong.

@Visanj T’shkali presented herself in her… usual… manner. Gerwald had to do his best to keep from laughing as she dared to smoke in front of the entire assembly. Her words struck a chord with him. As did those of the Exarch. The time to act was now, and this should not even be a debate. They were here not to answer the demands of history, but to shape what story would be told across the galaxy. This was more than a moral argument, as Hester Shedo , the Minister of Influence, had suggested. This was about the birthright of the Confederacy of Independent Systems itself.

Gerwald would speak. He had to lend his voice. Though he was not a great orator at all, he took to the podium which was in the booth he occupied.

“My brothers and sisters, you will forgive the fact that I am a simple warrior that lacks the education in the fine art of public speaking. I am not the wordsmith that many of you, most notably Exarch Talon, seem to be. What I can speak to is that she is correct. The longer we debate, the more pressing this matter becomes, the more go hungry, and the more pressure one world faces. This is not a solution any one world can solve, but it will take all of us.”

“As such it is my opinion as Lord Commander that this decision be an executive decision. I do not believe such an action by the Vicelord would be an overreach of his office provided this body serves to maintain accountability. Furthermore, I propose that the Ministers of Influence, Commerce, and Secrets be called upon to outline the best path forward keeping in mind the various impacts to the Confederacy which have been mentioned today.”

“To our guest, the Hutt. I appreciate an effort toward earned citizenship, but I do question the ethics of it. While I do not want to doubt your best intentions, I do not think such a proposal is fitting at this time. Perhaps the Minister of Commerce would be interested in seeing it and her office could advise this body on its adoption.”

With that being said, Gerwald began to step away, though a bit awkwardly making his way back to the podium.

“I yield the floor.”

Gerwald sat down and looked over to Darth Metus looking for any sign of how it was received. After all, this was the first time the wolf had addressed the assembly.
​

 

[Draconis Sederius Wolf]

Location: Theed Viceroyalty Chamber
Objective: Do Viceroy things
Wearing: Dress clothes

Draconis closed his eyes to keep the massive headache from overcoming his visage in a noticeable grimace the moment he heard the voice speak. Ever the contrarian, ever the one to sing his own praises and always ever the one to lord over how much better he was than everyone else. Gods above he hated that man, and he actually went out of his way to publicly defend him against the Knights Obsidian in this very chamber. He went to bat for this....... ugh some days he wished they'd have just shot him and put either him out of Draconis's misery, or vice versa. Because once more, he took the easy side, the easy route, the so called "call to their roots" which should make them all feel as though it was their duty. How easily these people forgot their duties to their own people. In their gilded palaces, sitting high and far away from all of the daily toil of life. Did some of these people possibly run companies or something of that nature? Possibly, because he couldn't imagine the kind of sapient being that just did this day in and day out. All of this was mind numbing, either all so dull and boring that he'd rather fight a rancor with a child's foam dart gun, or he got to deal with the stupidity of this. People seeking moral highs of being able to pat themselves on the back while completely ignoring the wolves at the gate and the darkness that surrounded them. One by one he watched various people chime in completely ignoring his most grave concerns. Ignoring the capabilities and capacities that the Confederacy already had at its disposal.

Completely ignoring the very clear and present danger that had so easily disguised itself with a needy face.

Only when the Minister of Science spoke with some measure of reason did Draconis pause. Someone had listened. A single person had paid attention. But even then it was a half measure. It was suggesting that something be put in place. No. Draconis had had enough. He would not continue to waste time in a body that absolutely refused to acknowledge his arguments. He had a people to lead, battles to fight, and wars to win. And they wouldn't see reason, if they would not hear his people's voices he wouldn't waste anymore time on this ungrateful lot. Very few here even knew what it was to hold a weapon let alone fight a war. To see comrades massacred, friends vaporized, good men and women die so others could enjoy the freedom they paid for in blood and tears. They invited war to their very doorstep. They all refused to believe that these people were capable of anything other than being thankful. Was it so easy to forget wrongs of the past, so easy to forget justice, or even worse, revenge? Did they all think these people would just take their rations with a smile and go on about their lives? Did they all forget what it was like to lose something and want justice or revenge? As beautiful as their optimism and hope was, without some grounding in reality they would sacrifice Confederate lives for their lack of forward thinking. And how many would be worth it to make themselves feel good about what they did? A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a million?

Draconis would not sacrifice one. Not for some folly and wishful thinking. And once again.

They had been ignored. Not once, not twice, but several times. It seemed that once Surric had an opinion that dissented from the majority, they were either ignored or silenced.

"Send out the message, we're at eff-pee con delta," he muttered to his aide.

The only cue that something was wrong was the moment of shock on his face as the words had left his lips. It would arrive for just a moment and then leave as the "aide" leaned in to Draconis's chair and whispered to his ear.

"Sir, are you sure that is wise? Surely there is-"

"There isn't, what is done is done. It is clear now what we must do,"

The man would swallow nervously as he nodded in acknowledgement. He would simply raise the datapad and type a simple code phrase to be sent over uncoded channels.

To'lek

The moment it hit the intended recipient, all SLDF traffic on planet would stop. Open channels that were occupied were suddenly closed. Any unencrypted chatter would cease, and encrypted chatter would immediately start coming through the various comms channels. And since no other comm system used the cipher of the Wind Talker Communications, which the SLDF had been willing to offer to the wider CAF and civilian industries, cracking said cipher was nigh impossible. But one thing could be gleamed from such an increase. Something was happening. Something had woken a beehive of activity.

In an undisclosed safehouse a short distance away from the VR chambers a team that had been stationed for the Viceroy's safety was now scrambling, men donned combat armor, loaded magazines into bandoliers, donned jet packs, grabbing and doing combat checks on rifles. They were scrambling because the day they had trained for, for years since the incursion of the Agents of Chaos was now here. Their Viceroy would soon be in harms way. Upstairs in the ready room various operators scrambled to and fro grabbing various stacks of papers, datapads, and whatever else that could be used as intel and began destroying it. Papers were burned and shredded, datapads wiped and then destroyed, consoles shot with disintegration weapons after formatting their drives. Once they acted they knew this place would be burned. Once they did their duty, there would be no coming back. They had one shot, only one chance to make this operation work. In orbit the Longbow Cruiser SLDF Serapis that had carried Draconis to Naboo was now going on full combat alert internally, however unchanging any of its outward signs. Inside alarm klaxons sounded, crewmembers scrambled from various decks to combat stations as general quarters was sounded. Pilots ran to their stations as fighter pilots, AT-3 crews and another squad of SLDF Marines loaded and did the fastest pre-flight checks they'd ever done. Ground crews opened the bay doors along the vessel and immediately started waving the vessels out as the ship transmitted on maximum power in all directions using it's encrypted transmitters as all local forces were alerted to the code word. Pilots cross referenced their go-flights, and then immediately launched, the STC (Space Traffic Control) contacting local Naboo authorities and saying that the pilots were conducting training and maneuvers, or specifically a high speed escort run of the AT-3s by F-22 Star Raptors. With them en-route, the ground team immediately loaded their gear and went to the staging point, holding inside a building only a few rooftops away from the VR Chambers. They'd gone over the plan a thousand times. They'd practiced in sims, live fires, and even taken tours of the VR chambers as allowed by civilians to confirm the layout of the specific building. And they'd done all of this in total secrecy. Now they all waited as a single signal would transmit on the lowest band, barely detectable via quantum signal detection equipment but simple enough to decode if one tried with the correct equipment.

It was a single monotone sound.

Meanwhile all of this was happening, Draconis stood from his seat and now stepped forward. They'd forced his hand. They wouldn't see reason. They refused to see any points other than their own. Which meant it was time for either a reality check, or for Surric to do what was best for her people. Draconis wouldn't wait to be acknowledged, speaking immediately following the Lord Commander.

"I, Draconis Sederius Wolf, of the Surric System, have something to say,"

"Viceroy Wolf, you are not recognized, you have-"

"I know speaker, and it would seem that my words have fallen on deaf ears. Nevertheless I must speak now, or I fear I will fail in my duty to my people. A duty which every man and woman here was sworn to do, regardless of personal bias, regardless of outside pressure, regardless of all influences. As many of you know I have represented my people following our civil war in this chamber, first as an appointed official and then as an elected one. I have dedicated my life in service to the Confederacy, and her people. An addage carried in the Confederate Armed Forces, one that has been adopted by the Surric Local Defense Forces, is that the tree of Liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots. Ours is a life of sacrifice, of duty, of commitment to the cause that we fight so others do not have to. We train, drill, battle and die so that others may know peace. I speak on this because I asked for one thing, one very simple thing. I wanted assurances that these refugees would not, nor could ever harm our people by bringing their war to our homes. Because what stops a Sith, an Imperial, and a Silver refugee from seeing each other and deciding to take out their grievances on our soil, in our skies, in orbit above our planets? You all speak of offering food, medicine, shelter, of kindness and comfort. And it warms this soldier's heart of mine that you all care so deeply for others. But you all forget of the evils a single person alone is capable of. You forget the pull of justice, anger, hatred and revenge. Only one person here has addressed the issues I raised, and they are not even a member of the Viceroyalty. They are instead an appointed official, and even they barely touched on the subject mentioning that such a thing might be considered. I mentioned before the Bastion Class Stations, a recent development due to a bill introduced on this very floor to raise defensive strongholds in our systems. These stations are capable of housing over a billion souls, not only comfortably but with full access to all basic and necessary needs. That no one else has mentioned them makes me worry as to the why my close friend who designed them has not told me how many were sent and assembled to various systems in need of such structures. We have had the capacity, and capabilities to handle this crisis. Surric alone can tackle upwards of forty billion souls in this crisis while we properly process these individuals. We have the technology. We have the manpower, the will, the ingenuity and audacity to tackle such a crisis without pause. But my main concern, which was addressed by none in this room, save for the foolish response from Ra'Katha," He would glare daggers at the fellow Viceroy, wanting to say more but keeping his composure that much.

"The Lord Commander knows what a single person armed with only the force is capable of. What a dozen are capable of. And you all brush such knowledge aside. You sit on your high pedestals, looking down on the masses, not knowing their struggles or even their wants. You are incapable of seeing anything but this supposed moral victory, this 'pivotal moment in history' where you think the rest of the galaxy will suddenly turn and thank us for our troubles. How many lives is this 'victory' worth? Ten, a hundred, a thousand, a million? It is my duty to act as a servant to the will of the people of Surric. I would sacrifice anything for any of them, and no doubt would they do the same for these people in need. But how do you plan to stem the violence, the bloodshed, the casualties when the shooting starts again here? When Imperial and Sith alike start vying for each other's blood? When the Silver decides to crusade against both for the acts of depravity that both are responsible for? When the Alliance citizen decides that now is the time to repay past sins tenfold on their enemies? When they start forming militias to protect themselves against each other and start attacking each other out of fear, rage and desperation? How many must die trying to stop this, or worse be simply caught in the crossfire when the shooting starts? When ships start ramming each other when old foes are spotted? When debris from ships, stations, and whatever else starts raining down on planets because we acted without thinking? No. No I will not stand for this. And seeing as I have once again been ignored. That my concerns are simply invalidated by those who think that rational thought and debate are secondary to this chamber. That every time I have stood for my people, for this glorious Confederacy, that what I say is invariably either refuted without logic or is outright ignored by this chamber," He sighed as looked down at his hands, noticing they were shaking.

He could feel the blood that would be spilled. He could hear the screams. See the faces of friends, his people, his greatest love in the galaxy mangled and destroyed before his eyes. This decision would have one outcome. Because he knew that despite they were outnumbered, outgunned, and otherwise just out-everything'd they'd fight to the last man and woman. They would all die on their feet to live free, rather than live on their knees in fear of some bureaucrat making decisions for them that cost their lives for nothing.

And then he would suddenly grab the podium with his strength, almost yelling as he proclaimed what must be done.

"I, Draconis Sederius Wolf, Viceroy of the Surric System, invoke the first Article of the Confederate Charter! The Surric System shall move to sequester itself from this body to begin discussion, debate and then quorum on the subject of secession from the Confederacy of Independent Systems!"​

"All SLDF forces deployed outside of the space of Surric will return immediately to Surric. Any SLDF Commanders who believe their forces are vital to operations being conducted in joint are given executive authority to continue combat operations until such a time they are no longer necessary. Any attempts to detain, subdue, or otherwise hinder these forces from returning peacefully to the Surric System will be seen as acts of aggression and be given an equal measured response. We shall not be sending a replacement representative, and any incursions into the Surric System by military vessels is hereby prohibited, and will be seen as an act of war! I yield the floor, and shall be taking my leave,"

He stepped back from the podium and began to gather his coat. What he'd just done was what many could construe to treason. Invoking the 1st Article only to deliberate on violating the second was grounds to be tried for treason. And yet he seemed calm. His two guards were now on high alert though, scanning the room for threats though keeping an extra pair of eyes on the Lord Commander and his cohort. Due to their incursion into the chamber to arrest a fellow member of the VR earlier, dealing with them had been incorporated into the defensive plan but it was clear that this could spiral out of control quickly. And Draconis knew that a few certain members would only be too happy to put a blaster bolt in the back of his head.

 

[Laertia Io]

Xiphos took stock of all who had spoken so far. There was hostility. Chaos. Strife. Contempt barely contained between people. Srina Talon the frosty voice of severity and authority on not accepting conscription. Gerwald Lechner , an Obsidian Master Maple had told her of, stressing the need for executive authority. Hester Shedo and Visanj T'shkali emphasizing the need for compassion and talking about how the CIS would be judged, an opinion held by Bastille Rommer also.

She was getting a terrible feeling of deja vu.

Still she had to try. Try and reach some of them.

Draconis Sederius Wolf suddenly stood up, announced what had apparently been a long time coming, announcing his secession.

For a terrible moment, Xiphos was reminded of her own action of turning her back on all she knew. She had only heard him speak once, yet she felt she understood his position more than anyone else in the room. Declaration of intent to separate to do the right thing. Gods she hated being so self aware sometimes.

When no one listens, take matters into your own hands.

As Wolf began to leave Xiphos straightened up as her name was announced over loud speaker.

Her old name, anyway.

"These chambers recognize Laertia Io, The Black Knight."

Xiphos stood up, focusing the Force so her voice would carry clearly across the chambers like she had a microphone. Her Lightsaber, the Sword of Cinndurr, dangled from her belt, it's hilt scorched and blackened by the terrible power hiding in the crystal that served as it's heart.

"I am not Viceroy, like many in this chamber. Nor am I one of your Obsidian Warriors. For the past few months, I was an outlier. A defector to your government out of my utter disillusionment with the SJC. I did what I did because the ones forcing this refugee crisis are an enemy to all they view as weak. I'm talking of the ones really causing your problems. I speak of The Bryn'adul.

Xiphos blinked as someone snapped a photo in the back.

"The Viceroy of Surric is not wrong in his concerns. He clearly loves his people, or he would not do what he just did. I am not here to snort at your compassion. It is noble of you to take such immense risks upon yourselves. I am haunted by those I failed to save at Sarka and Nar Kreeta. I absolutely understand why you want to help. My question, which I must pose, however, remains...how long can you keep it up?"

There were sudden murmurs.

"As we speak, not just you, but the SJC, who has been humiliated by the Bryn'adul at every conflict after Yurb, are dealing with the same problem of the refugee crisis, which is almost certainly aiding the Bryn'adul on a military scale, and if it does not find a safety valve and soon, then as the Bryn'adul draw closer to your territory, the crisis will devastate you economically while the Bryn'adul devastate you in a military sense. War may not come today, Exarch Talon. But rest assured, when it does, the Bryn'adul must face the most savage, aggressive response you can possibly afford, and then some."

More murmurs. She had their interest.

"Conscription is out of the question. I get that...but surely there must be some amongst the refugees who desire revenge on the ones who killed their society. Should they not be appealed to, militarily speaking? Even if on a purely volunteer basis? And even if you resettle them, you will need some method of screening. But even if you find and do that, the refugee crisis will not abate until the real sources of your problems are dealt with. When the war comes, and should you start suffering defeat after defeat the way the SJC have, you won't like it, but you may have to consider conscription. Or you may have to close your borders. The Bryn'adul can make even the most honorable hoist a black flag to begin slitting throats. At least some probationary period might also be advised, to detect bad apples in the bunch and separate them early, though I acknowledge given the sheer scale of what you're facing, it might well be impossible. Compassion such as that expressed by others in this room is not wrong, but you must not pour so much into aiding refugees that you forget yourselves in the process, or in the end, you aid neither yourself or the ones who need you the most. Regardless of what you decide with the refugees, I encourage every single official, leader, and warrior to start vital research into Anti-Bryn'adul Weaponry and technology. You will need it. Darth Metus has already been provided some examples of my efforts in that regard. I am willing to send data on what I learned so far from being a front line combatant, and having faced their Warlord twice in battle now. I am also willing to send schematics and samples of Anti-Bryn weaponry I am developing to anyone in this room who asks." Xiphos finished, turning to Aether the Iron .

"I am willing to send you data on how to construct these stations to best resist Bryn Ship Weaponry. It's a good plan."

Xiphos then turned to the rest of the chamber

"We may not want a war. No one sane does. But the fight must be taken to this destructive enemy soon, and in the harshest, most merciless terms possible. They know no honor or mercy, and send destructive worms that burrow under cities, tearing the ground out from defending troops. They penetrate city shields with a coat of oil on their ships. Their magnetic bio weaponry can knock ships, and projectiles from the air and their average troops are many times stronger and more vicious than most of yours. They will do to every single one of your worlds what they did to Sarka and laugh about it if they get a chance. Countermeasures to every single one of their tricks must be developed. Unless you want it to be your territory everyone is fleeing from to become a refugee elsewhere. The Bryn'adul must be destroyed. Long live the CIS."

Xiphos sat down, having said her peace at the moment.

Draelos

Jordar Varcskel

John Locke

Matthew Locke

zzRookal the Hutt

Oleander Webb

Aeson Rora

 

[Bastille Rommer]

S O V E R E I G N​

Tag: Darth Metus | Srina Talon | Matthew Locke | Svana Neoma | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | Agravain | Draelos | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Aether the Iron | Elsasca Selcoc | Gerwald Lechner | Oleander Webb | Draconis Sederius Wolf

Bastille audibly sighed as Draconis announced the Surric System's 'secession.' Usually Viceroyalty meetings were boring and tedious full of politicians of all sorts vying for power, for their own individual moments of glory in hopes that their words would be picked up on holocasts across the galaxy. Bastille had seen enough theater in these gilded chambers to substitute for the entire population of Ra'Katha.

The outburst was new, that was for sure. But something irked Bastille. Something that made him stand, and call to the leaving Viceroyal. "For one who claims to value his constituents lives such a degree that you are willing to let millions of innocents die on our borders, Viceroy Wolf, you seem to be quite ready to invite war, death and destruction to your home."

His words were not loud, per se, but they echoed audibly around the silenced chamber. As a Sovereigntist, most assumed that Bastille merely tolerated the Confederacy, if not outright plotted against it. They would likely be surprised by the stance Bastille was taking now, but the Viceroy and Kemotar had always supported the Confederacy. . . for if he didn't, then why would he join in the first place?

"Take your seat," Bastille said, extending a hand to gesture towards the booth, "Or else I'm sure the Confederacy will find someone to take it for you." A smile of genuine warmth was plastered on his face, but his eyes glimmered with cunning, with danger. Bastille knew that rash actions would end bad for the Surric System; and if Draconis had any of his wits about him, then he should know it too.

​

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Hester Shedo | Bastille Rommer | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Visanj T'shkali + [OPEN]
_________________________________________________________
​

Srina resisted the urge to snort when the Lord Commander implied that his student was as aware of what was happening as she was. <<I severely doubt that.>>, she countered, though, her gaze flickered toward Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera to listen to her assessments. Her words were very similar to many of the others, though, they had the added flair of being a new voice. Srina hadn’t heard from this young woman previously. The wolf continued to bleat about the duty of her Master and were they not at Golbah Hill she might have broken his nose. He had promise.

Occasionally, he was also an idiot.

<<It is not that simple. To act without thought to overreach could take food from the mouths of our own people. It could cause an imbalance that would be difficult, nigh impossible, to correct without catastrophic losses. The Viceroy need a chance to discuss it. Do not test me, Wolf—>>

Her mental words to Gerwald Lechner were cut off by a grandiose interrupted by the Viceroy of Surric. Silver eyes narrowed and her stone expression seemed to emulate freshly fallen winter snow.

| “There will be order in this hall.” |​

Normally, the Exarch kept her peace after delivering initial observations. She didn’t remain silent out of fear but out of necessity in a room full of dozens of Viceroy that all had some point to make. They all had something to say. Some of them liked each other. Some of them hated each other. Some were entirely incapable of placing their ego to the wayside and that ignorance burned brighter than a falling star in the atmosphere. While she always expected nonconforming opinions; She had not anticipated such blatant, juvenile, grandstanding. It was sickening.

“It seems that you require attention Draconis Sederius Wolf and as a fellow servant to the Confederacy of Independent Systems I will provide you with it—Now. The obvious issues, personal or otherwise, that the Ra’Katha and Surric representatives endure are not the concern of this forum. Don’t bother denying it lest you seek to test my patience further. The fact that you let it color your opinion one way or the other during a crisis of unprecedented displacement is beyond comprehension.”

The Speaker seemed to be getting upset. His mouth opened and closed a few times but he dared not interrupt when the wintry Exarch rose from her seat. Every time she moved during the assembly of the Viceroyalty before the conclusion, something, was most assuredly amiss. Slowly, but surely, he found his composure and brought his hands together before him. He had heard all manner of disagreements but this was why a Speaker had been appointed. To keep the peace; to keep things productive. “With all due respect, Viceroy Wolf, Exarch Talon…Perhaps we should—”

“Perhaps we should overlook this? No. I do not think we will.”

Her words were pointed, even, if she spoke to his back. Regardless of the content, however, there would still be a lack of emotion presented. If she was angry upset, or otherwise it wouldn’t show. The Exarch thought first before all else. She operated with logic and the information that could be verified. Her heart was cold as ice. She had no moral duty to the refugees—Merely what logic and efficiency required. “Either you have gone deaf during these proceedings or you are willfully twisting the words of others and even our Charter for your own agency. It serves neither your people nor the citizens of our nation who until this moment have been one and the same—So what is your true purpose? To safeguard the nation? Or see it undone?”

“The only one ignoring anyone, presently, is the Viceroy of Surric. You have derailed this discussion while simultaneously cutting off dozens of other Viceroy that have yet to speak. You have disregarded their undeniable right to voice their opinion, to have their say, with what equates to a tantrum. You have made assumptions without cause. How presumptive and blind you must be to assume the only focus is a moral victory. To assume that we, as a whole, sit blindly on pedestals without knowing sacrifice…You insult each and every sentient being in the Southern Systems, including, yourself. You are not the only one who fights. You are not the only one who suffers, and we have never, ever, let our people fight or stand alone.”

A pause. Silver eyes closed and her fingers pressed down, briefly, on the desk that sat before them. A fracture such as this was the exact thing enemies of the Confederacy sought to exploit. It had actually happened exactly like this during the Agent Wars, however, Derek Dib had been intelligent enough to see it coming and act accordingly. The Viceroy Wolf had yet to present himself with such prepossessing features, though, she hadn’t yet discounted it. There was a way back to the true purpose of this meeting in which all parties could find themselves some level of satisfaction, however, it was not this way.

If Draconis Sederius Wolf couldn’t see that?

Perhaps, he was truly lost.

Bastille Rommer of Ra’Katha seemed to sense the hostility as well and also saw fit to weigh in. Baleful eyes could see the bait and she mentally willed Draconis Sederius Wolf not to take it. Was it possible that both men were this foolish? Echani ways dictated that they ought to lock them both in a room together so they could slug it out for supremacy…But that was not the Confederate way.

Sometimes, she missed Eshan.

“…I will concede that perhaps your impassioned words were born of a lack of patience and concern for your people rather than intended malevolent behavior. These are difficult times in which we must often make decisions that are unpopular and controversial, one way, or the other. However—If we cannot maintain our decorum in the face of adversity, we do not deserve the faith and support of this nation.”, she trailed off, slowly, shaking her head.

Clearly, in her previous statement she had stated that there were “Many ways” to accomplish their goals without explicitly stating what they would be. He had not been discounted. There was no need for that when not everyone had been given the chance to come to the table. “If you wish to proceed with succession and effectively weaken both the nation and system you claim to love so thoroughly…The door is before you. We will always have enemies. The galaxy has mistrusted, loathed, or feared us for the last decade and no one in this room is foolish enough to expect any sort of gratitude. We can expect all of the negative possibilities you have mentioned even from within our domain let alone outside of it simply due to the manner of our inception. Not every populace on a planet is pleased with the decision of their government to join us. They could revolt. They could start petty fights, wars, and even rebel if they find enough support. If we regarded every system as a potential hostile force, every person that passed through our borders a threat? We would never accept any more systems into our charter. We would close our borders completely and cripple our economy. These refugees are already here, presently. More, incoming. There are always risks to every action—but they can be mitigated.”

“Your seat is not yet vacant, Viceroy, unless you continue on this nigh treasonous path. The Lord Commander can tell you many things, including, how incorrect your interpretation of the Charter seems to be. What you must understand is that this is a meeting to determine the fate of millions, no, billions of displaced victims in which all of us have a stake. There is no room to turn on each other while the eyes of the galaxy are ever upon us. Laertia Io is correct that the main source of our quandary is the Bryn’adûl. The Last Wall was undertaken for that very reason, however, that is a discussion for a war room which is NOT the agenda today. Do not mistake the divergence in discussion for complacency. While some may speak with their hearts, in the end... It is efficiency and pragmatism that will serve us best. We cannot effectively wage war if we are first internally devastated by a continuous influx of people without measures in place to deal with them.”

How had they gotten onto the topic of conscription? They had droid armies that could fulfill any role that ranged from legions of battle droids to extremely skilled units. Slender fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose as her focus shifted. If the Viceroy of Surric wanted to leave far be it for her to try and stop him. She had laid out the issues logically and truthfully. She could lead him to water…But just like a horse—Couldn’t make him drink. If he wasn’t willing to take part in a viable solution without throwing in the towel and lambasting the rest of his peers? So be it. Better to lose the problem than indulge it.

Had this been the plan from the moment Viceroy Wolf had entered the chamber? Much like the merchant, to use strife, and the potential threat of violence toward his own gains?

For his sake and the sake of the Surric Systems?

She hoped not.

“Ms. Io…No one implied that we would not take measures with the refugees to ensure our own safety. We are not fools. It is not the first time we’ve dealt with something of this nature. May I remind you all of the fall of the Galactic Alliance? It was equally as impactful as the Bryn’adûl threat. The discussion of weaponry against them, plus, the unrequested assessment of our armies is NOT the focus of this meeting. We can take your words under advisement, however, there are proper channels to bring these concerns forward. If that is all…We should return to the matter at hand.”

It was clear that the woman had experience with the Bryn’adûl, however, she seemed to discount the ability of the Confederacy entirely. Just as Draconis Sederius Wolf had. It seemed like the loudest voices wanted to discuss everything but the issue they had actually come together to deal with. If Darth Metus had somehow, someway, changed his mind about the purpose of this summit? All right.

Until then?

She would focus on the reason they had ALL agreed to meet. No more, no less. All of this was costing precious time that they couldn’t afford to waste. The variety of threats that sat on the peripherals did warrant discussion. It warranted action. However, this was the price of democracy. This was the price of allowing systems to retain their autonomy versus becoming a dictatorship. Hearing each other. Listening to each other. Taking advice, even, if it conflicted with their own desires in a calm, rational, and respectful fashion. If they couldn’t do that without losing their heads and forming splinter groups and pseudo-coups while passing less than thinly veiled threats?

They wouldn’t need to wait for the Bryn’adûl at all. Most certainly, they would destroy themselves.

“Speaker…Please continue. Let the next party have the floor.”

Spoiler: OOC

Just a reminder that any IC thoughts or statements of Srina belong to her IC - Not to myself. I adore you all. She's just notoriously short/cold without meaning to be...Think Vulkan. TLDR for those who don't want to read this novel...We're not fools. Chill out, let's stay on topic, stick together, work the problem, and get it done.

 

[Darth Metus]

GOLBAH HILL, THEED

Thus far, the Vicelord had not spoken.

He held his peace, intentionally, so that the weight of his voice did not sway the body in one way or another. The nature of the crisis was one that required all to be on the same page. On one accord. And the initial phases of the meeting were intended for just that - to voice their concerns, to debate them out, and to come to a consensus together. There were suggestions that had merit in the man's eyes. Others that did not. And there were many of the body who had yet to speak. By now, Isley was accustomed to empassioned feelings on the Viceroyal Floor. Whether it be regarding hyperlane construction or the current crisis, there was not a politician alive who would not back their points with fervor.

For each had been chosen to represent millions of lives. They were each accountable to their people first - so of course, there would be passion. There would be fervor. There would be doing whatever it took to ensure that theirs were safeguarded.

Thus, Darth Metus watched the proceedings in silence. Until the declaration of Surric. At that moment, the presentation of ideas came to a halt - and all eyes were on the representative. Across all bodies, there were immediate responses. From Viceroys, from the Knights, from even his own Exarch.

Then, the Vicelord rose.

"Viceroy Wolf.

"This is not our way - you know this. When Surric agreed to become apart of this community, you and its people were given the tools to see your opinions known across our systems. You and your people became Confederates evermore. Today, we have come together to address a crisis that we have never faced before.

And each member of this body, including you, is entitled to their opinions."

Remember that no laws have been voted on this day. Not yet. We are only moments into the discussion; and not all of your peers have had a chance to speak. But we, even those who are silent, are listening.

I am listening - to all of you.

Your concerns have merit. I agree that the sources of the refugees are cause for concern. I agree that we have no idea who or what is waiting inside each ship. Are they actually refugees? Are they Agents taking the chance to strike again? I agree - we don't know. I agree - we have the industy and the means to house the current influx as well. Whether it be by the Bastions or some other option.

And that is why we are here, to make a decision together.

At this stage, we are voicing our concerns and debating them. Nothing has been called to vote yet. You and your people have fought, sacrificed, and bled for this body. For this community. For this Charter. So let the process you've fought for operate. I ask you to take your seat and to allow your peers, all of them, the chance to voice their concerns and to hear yours. I am listening. Your peers are listening. Let us work together and get this done.

There is enough conflict in the Galaxy, Viceroy Wolf. We can resolve this - in peace and as one.

What say you?"

Draconis Sederius Wolf​

Srina Talon | Hester Shedo | Bastille Rommer | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Jordar Varcskel | Imperia von Sorenn | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Visanj T'shkali​

 

[Imperia von Sorenn]

BREATHLESS​

Attire: Stylish
Location: Viceroyalty Chambers
Golbah Hill, Theed

Imperia saw in awe at the other more illustrious individuals that had clambered into the chambers and taken their seats. Still sitting in her own, her feet lightly kicking the air as she sat patiently and quietly. She didn't really have a view - rather - she didn't have one that she felt would get the chance to be heard or be taken as seriously given her age and her relatively young tenure as a Viceroy. She was sure that others would take her name and merely expect her to hold the same gravitas as the woman who brought the name to the forefront of the Confederacy's mind. Gripping her fingers to the sides of her seat, she leaned forward, listening and it was only when she looked up again did something strange happen.

She felt those Silver - nearly golden - hues fall upon her, and the demure little creature carefully scrunched herself down in her seat as though she had gotten called into the principal's office. Srina Talon had apparently noticed Imperia and it brought about a strange reaction - her face felt flushed as she brought her hands up, lightly letting her strawberry-blonde hair fall over her pointed ears. It was this that showed her heritage and an odd trait she'd picked up from her other progenitor - her ears folded down slightly at the tips - blood having rushed to the region and turning them a nearly brilliant red as she was seemingly blushing from having been noticed. As it was happening, it reminded Imperia of the few times that she had noticed a similar reaction in Fiore when they were together - perhaps it was just a natural thing that happened among the Eldorai - though Imperia didn't have much knowledge of that other half of her heritage.

Of course, Imperia didn't get much of a moment to enjoy being noticed by Senpai [Srina] when some calamitous shouting match quickly broke out in the chambers - seemingly focused between Draconis Sederius Wolf proclaiming that his system would pull out of the Confederacy - followed by Bastille Rommer own retaliation in those regards. There seemed to be little chance to get a voice in edgewise, nor did the individuals feel a need to listen to others. That was soon rectified and the response that the Exarch gave in such a cold, stern, and straight forward means sent a shiver up the young woman's spine - the harsh words even causing the demure young woman to flinch as she retracted herself further into her seat by curling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as her chin came to rest on her knees. Clearly, she really was there to listen, and what she was hearing - the animosity and cruel words and vitriol were rather disturbing to the poor creature's ears. To think that the Confederacy - those that had stood as a shining beacon for so long - would have members among them that so willingly and coldly shun those that needed their assistance over unfounded fears brought a worry to her brow.

"And I thought I was a child..."

Imperia whispered to herself as she kept her lips pressed against her knees so that none save for those that were right next to her - meaning that none - would hear her words. She did have to give it to the Viceroy of the Surric system, however, she never thought she'd see a Gundark throw a tantrum, and yet, here they were...

Hester Shedo | Laertia Io | zzRookal the Hutt | Aeson Rora | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Oleander Webb | Svana Neoma | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Matthew Locke | Elsasca Selcoc | Agravain | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Elyria | Raven Thystle | John Locke | Draelos | Visanj T'shkali + [OPEN]​

​

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | John Locke | Matthew Locke | Visanj T'shkali | zzRookal the Hutt | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Aether the Iron | Darth Elyria | Svana Neoma | Bastille Rommer | Raven Thystle | Draelos | Imperia von Sorenn | Jordar Varcskel | Agravain | Aeson Keel | Laertia Io | Hester Shedo | Darth Metus | OPEN
INVENTORY: x | x | x

His question met with silence, Oleander's gaze followed that of Gerwald's, casting a glance toward the snowy-haired woman whom he assumed was an associate of the Lord Commander. He'd seen her before, once or twice at other CIS gatherings, always in passing. Though that knowledge and the general glance at the company she kept this day had him thinking she was someone of import and little beyond that.

“I know a few faces. Exarch Talon I know rather well. We were just talking about you in fact.”

His brow furrowed, eyes shifting back to catch the Srina Talon 's gaze if she were still looking in their direction before returning to Gerwald. "Is that so? What about, specifically?" The Anzat so often operated off the radar, being on the radar of another was a cause of interest. Not quite concern, not yet.

He didn't press the question further, lapsing back into silence as one after one, individuals rose to address the masses. From Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera , to Visanj T'shkali , to the Exarch herself and beyond. His less than perfect posture straightened even more as Gerwald Lechner rose to address the crowds, instinct briefly lamenting the fact that he hadn't opted to make himself scarce before the Lord Commander had risen.

For a brief moment, he considered offering a short, silent applause as Gerwald returned to his seat. Thoughts of such a display were quickly forgotten as another, Draconis Sederius Wolf took over the discussion. Yet while others' speeches filled with jargon and flowery language went through one ear and out the other, the tone of Viceroyal Wolf's voice kept the Anzat on edge, gaze narrowing to shift between the speaker and his guard detail, increasing in scrutiny as a guard's gaze met his own.

It seemed this would be more than just sitting and listening to politicians banter. And as others rose to address the new matter at hand, he found himself slipping out of the booth, slipping into the shadows for optimal mobility should his skills be needed in the following minutes. The guard watching him would prove to be a nuisance, certainly, but not one he couldn't handle should the time come. The Anzat gave a deep inhale, once more taking in the presences around him. So many unnoteworthy, yet also a good amount of those who emanated strength, especially that in the force. Once more, the never-full pit of hunger began to pull at his being, suggesting a hunt in the near future.​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

R E A C T I O N​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Srina Talon | John Locke | Matthew Locke | Visanj T'shkali | zzRookal the Hutt | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Aether the Iron | Darth Elyria | Svana Neoma | Bastille Rommer | Raven Thystle | Draelos | Imperia von Sorenn | Jordar Varcskel | Oleander Webb | Agravain | Aeson Rora | Laertia Io | Hester Shedo | ANYONE I MISSED | OPEN

The Dread Queen, Srina Talon , had made her thoughts on Gerwald’s opinion known. He could understand her point of view, and even respected it. Perhaps there was still too much of the warrior inside of him to see the need for the Viceroy’s consent.

<“I would not dare to…” his reply began. “It is just that…”>

Gerwald would not have a chance to finish his thoughts as the outburst from Draconis Sederius Wolf captured the attention of everyone in the room. Some of the observers were frozen with shock, others, like Bastille Rommer seemed to be indignant. Oleander Webb would not even get an answer to his question as a result of the situation which threatened to derail the entire proceeding. While Gerwald found the discussion nowhere near as necessary as Ecarch Talon did, he could at least agree it should not be derailed.

The wolf listened intently.

One of his responsibilities was to uphold the Charter which Viceroy Wolf had cited. A hand met his forehead as Gerwald let his head fall into it with a sigh. This was why he hated politicians. They were always twisting plain words to suit their own interests and justify their actions. Wolf was a warrior in his own right. That point he had made abundantly clear in both of his speeches, but in this moment he looked further from that description.

It would seem that Srina Talon would be tested today, but the lupine would not be the one to do it. Her cry for order shook the room, as did the exchange between her and the speaker. Gerwald listened and watched intently as she once again used her words to cut straight to the heart of the issue at hand. Wolf did not let other speak, he heard only the words and opinions he wanted to, and it was obvious his sole intent for the outburst was to force the Viceroyalty to accept his position.

She indicated the Lord Commander could speak to the charter, which for now his only response would be a nod of his head. There would be little left unsaid by the time the Echani finished addressing the assembly and yielding the floor, but the events which had just played out before all to see were at least exposed for what they were.

The force master sighed as Metus addressed the Viceroy directly. There were those in the galaxy which would confuse the man for a Sith. Perhaps Metus ran around with the title of Darth before his name, but his actions in this moment were not consistent with someone which followed Sith philosophy. His approach was personal, yet firm. The ebony skinned Vicelord extended an opportunity to continue, even conceding Wolf’s concerns were valid.

As the Vicelord took his seat, waiting for the delegation from Surric to answer, Gerwald stood and took to the podium once more.

“Confederates, as the Viceroy from Surric takes a moment to ponder the choice before him, let me clear up the issue of the charter. The first article states the Confederacy will not infringe on a world’s right to self-govern, except in cases of extreme abuse, or the absence of a native population. I will make two points. First, no one in this room, not even the Vicelord himself, is forcing anyone to take refugees. If your world cannot accept them that is the decision of your world. You do not, nor can you, speak for the rest of the planets represented here.

“The second point on this. His words, and actions, violate two other articles of the Confederate Charter, namely two and three which state: All worlds acknowledge that membership within the Confederacy is permanent. And, all worlds agree to appoint a single representative - known as a Viceroy - to serve as their representative within the Confederacy's governing body: the Viceroyalty. As such, should you choose this path, the charter gives this body the authority to choose a replacement for Surric, preferably native to the planet, but as is the case of my homeworld Stewjon, because they were imprisoning and executing force users, someone was appointed who is not from Stewjon at all.”

Gerwald now addressed the Viceroy from Surric directly.

“To be clear, as the choice that is truly before you, Viceroy Wolf. If you continue on this path the only thing you will succeed in doing is causing more heartache and trouble for the people you say you are trying to protect. Please, do not cast your seat among this body aside for an issue that is a discussion with the Ministers of Influence, Secrets, and War. This is a legislative body. You cannot impose your will on the rest of the other planets represented here. Doing so would violate their right to self-govern, and in turn you would be guilty of breaking the very article you propose to hide behind in order to justify your illegal actions.”

His eyes moved to the Vicelord and the Exarchs which were with him. Then they fell onto the speaker.

“Mr. Speaker, if he wishes to leave, I would suggest it be permitted and that we return this discussion to the matter at hand. To that end perhaps we should center the remainder of our time on discussing whether your world is able to aid, and how they will be able to do so. It would seem to me the question is not whether we should respond, but how will we. Today, the refugees, and tomorrow we can discuss the root cause of the rapidly increasing number.”

Gerwald nodded.

“I yield the floor.”
​

 

[Matthew Locke]

L O C K E​

Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | John Locke | Darth Metus | Aether the Iron | Visanj T'shkali | zzRookal the Hutt | Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera | Draconis Sederius Wolf | Darth Elyria | Svana Neoma | Bastille Rommer | Raven Thystle | Draelos | Imperia von Sorenn | Jordar Varcskel | Oleander Webb | Agravain | Aeson Rora | Laertia Io | Hester Shedo | @ANYONE I MISSED | OPEN | ​

Matthew took a long deep breath as he sat back down, he knew that two million people was a bit of a stretch, especially with all that Stewjon has gone through, but he felt like he had done good enough for his first time ever being in a Viceroyalty meeting. This was his first real taste of politics at the Galactic level and this wasn't the time to make a fool of himself. His brother had talked to him much about what he should do in these meetings and he took this to heart. John Locke was a good teacher, but even he wasn't good enough to prepare Matthew for the onslaught that this meeting would become.​

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After his statement the floor seems to erupt, with most Viceroys taking a fairly neutral or agreeable position to the issue at hand, but they're a few that held a position that deeply shook the room. When Draconis Sederius Wolf spoke he held control of everyone's attention, Matthew was surprised by the man's stature alone, but his voice carried the microphones just amplified this effect. But this was not the only thing that brought the attention to this man, the words he spoke seemed to shake some of the members of this meeting much more than even he expected them to.​

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Sitting in silence Matthew watched the scene unfold in front of him, his hand resting on his chin as his eyes followed the conversation, from one member to the next. The words of the Viceroy hitting across the room. His mind was racing with thought s and ideas, but he chose it best to keep quiet for the moment and to wait to see where the scene would lead. When the Lord Commander and even the Vicelord jumped into the discussion he knew it was serious. Taking a deep breath Matthew knew that he had to say something.​

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Rising from his chair Matthew looked out towards the people that were in the chamber. "Humble Speaker, Vicelord, Exarch Talon, and Lord Commander. I am sure you are aware of my position as Viceroy of Stewjon, and brother to Exarch Locke. I hope that you trust in his judgment and listen as you would the Exarch himself. Although Vicelord Wolf may have brought forth the counter-argument in a way that has caused affliction to the floor, I hope I can aid in some way to the idea that I believe was attempted to be made. These people are coming from wars, from hardships, and from conditions that many of our people have faced before. We only wish to take into account that the civilians under our care should be safe, but we also have a responsibility as a government to see to those who have come to us for aid. This is the dilemma that has been put forth to us today." Matthew let the last word hang for his moment as his eyes reached out towards the gathered members. "Is there any way that we can help these refugees without putting any more hardships on our population? We do not know the intention of every man and woman that comes to us for aid. But, the question then becomes, should we forsake the needs of the genuine for those who would take from our generosity? We only have to ask ourselves the question, if we were in their shoes, and they were in ours, what do you wish we would choose. These people have left everything they know due to wars stretching across the galaxy. As a government and as a people I believe that we have a responsibility to take in those who come to us for aid. It may cause some hardships on the people we already have, but do the hardships to come not pale in the ones that these people are facing already? We all come from different branches of life, but I hope that each of us has a shred of humanity to feel their plight and to accept them as people. Thank you for your time, I yield the floor." Matthew stood for a moment before taking place in his chair, his hands balled into fists, he was never much of one to stand in front of the public eye, but all he could see when he spoke was where he had come from, that was all that carried him on through his speech.​

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