Konstantin Makarev
Character
Allies: [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Seto"] Du Conteau
Enemies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Rick Kaloo"] | [member="Lady Kay"] [Presumably] | [member="Darlyn Excron"] | [member="Amari Deechi"] | [member="Alexandra Feanor"]
Objective: Politick
Location: "The War Room", First Order Embassy | Main Gate, First Order Embassy
Soundtrack: Professor Schenck Halt Die Stellung | Stephan Zacharias [X]
"Colonel, we have an ID on some of those vessels sir." Agent Dautrieve snapped. Konstantin's attention was taken away from the battle display. "Especially the vessels around the palace." She elaborated, as Konstantin closed on the Agents makeshift terminal, hefted aboard a craft services table. The agent keyed in a code, "Looks like the Commoneri have friends in high places sir." She now moved away, making an entry for the Colonel, whom approached and eyed the terminals. She was right. Silver Jedi and New Republic forces. The latter did not concern him. But the former? A grim look came across the Colonel's face. It seemed now, at least, that the CSA, or at least the puppet regime which the Zambrano's had in fact established, were hell bent on colluding with enemies of the state.
But this would allow for opportunity. One of leverage. "I want a line to the Commoner Palace." Makarev growled, turning to Agent Foye. The agent looked a bit startled by the request. "For Siths sake woman! This is an embassy, is it not?!" He let a brief moment settle, "Get me a communications frequency to the palace!" Still disturbed, but understanding who she worked for Agent Ariadne Foye now began to hastily enforce her superiors will. Colonel Makarev picked up his armoured officers cap, and stood before the projector. He was attired in First Order uniform. Large greatcoat black, with crisp tunic and officers cylinders, along with a rank insignia.
"We're ready sir," Foye informed him, "She mightn't see it personally. But hopefully those in the palace will." She then keyed in one final sequence. "On your mark." Makarev breathed in, puffing his chest. He wanted to look proud. And he did. Large, deep gash scar on his face all the more apparent. His face, free of any unsightly hairs. And his jaw, clenched like a beast ready to pounce.
"Your Majesty." Colonel Makarev addressed. "I am Colonel Konstantin Makarev," He formally introduced himself. "Executive commander of forces now based at the First Order Embassy, and chief commanding officer of the Sixtieth Armoured." He allowed a bow of his head, "As it currently sits, enemies of the First Order, that being the Silver Jedi Order, are now besieging your palace, and murdering allies of our government." He then allowed himself a pause, "I believe, that this is a show of force, which violates Commoner's neutrality, and now brings into question how Dosuun shall react." He kept a stern visage, despite the truth being, how would Dosuun react to this? He couldn't tell. But he would fake it until he made it.
"In order to salvage our diplomatic friendship, and avoid escalation, commence the withdrawal of the Silver Jedi dogs, and cease their activities," His tone grew with some ferocity. From stoicism, he had turned to something akin to a rabid rancor, "I will be forced to inform my superiors Commoner has joined the Silver Jedi in their war of aggression against my forces and my people." He allowed himself another pause, "And will be forced to tell my garrison to engage the local populace as you have proven yourself an enemy." He glared what would look directly at the camera. Giving any viewer a death stare. "So unless you wish to deal with an imperial war fleet arriving from Atrisia and providing permanent regime change, I suggest you heed my warning."
He maliciously sneered, "My second stipulation, is that once the Jedi depart, to provide me and my staff access wherever they need to, to ensure the safety of your people." Which would be how Makarev planned to get him, and his charges out. But that would come later. "To anyone listening, unless you wish to make yourselves enemies of our Order. And our might. Leave. But those too stupid, or arrogant enough to tempt the wrath of Supreme Leader?" He queried, "I eagerly await watching you die."
"And as for you, your majesty? I look forward to hearing from you." He raised a fist, level with his head and the transmission cut. He turned to Foyle, "How did I do?" He asked. Keeping like that, it had its toll on the man. He had to concede. Foyle now began to press it into circulation. The comms networks around the city, were practically empty. Meaning it left the transmission with easy and direct access to the palace sir.
"Well.... It was uh.... Interesting." She mused offering a small smile, "I can't imagine they'll appreciate that much." She added, coolly. Dautrieve was similarly unimpressed, and seemed confused. "But in terms of delivery? It reminded me of some the recordings of Supreme Commander Vaas." She allowed herself another sip of her canteen, resting next to her "Do you have anything else sir?"
"I want our Special Forces to go weapons free." Makarev ordered, "We need to show these scum that we are willing, we are able and we can strike." He clenched his fist, and raised it, "Wherever, and whenever we please, even in this." He gestured around the war room, "Diminished capacity." He pulled himself a chair, and again turned to the battle. Part of him knew that this was a definitive gamble. One which may backfire entirely. But, he hoped that this may slow things. Perhaps allow some pause for thought, and even a route for the evacuation of the civilians, and his men. They just now needed to prove themselves.
"Of course Colonel." Foyle drily replied, "But what do you want me to do about the visitor?" Makarev turned his attention to the agent, who as if on cue, bought up a display screen. It showed the outer perimeter of the Embassy, and the main gate. The gate was fortified, and sealed shut. But the man outside, whomever he was, was talking. Raving even, about something or another. But he introduced himself as Minister? Makarev cocked his head, in a mixture of confusion. What sort of Minister, attired himself in, was that Beskar'gam? But that voice. It was all too familiar.
"The distraction." Makarev smouldered, "Has arrived." He tapped the armrest of his chair. He was clearly armed to the teeth. So diplomacy was evidently not on his mind. No. He was going to try something. One way, or another. "I quite like the look of his armour." He added, "See if we can get some boys with Deep Fryers trained on him, get them to the upper levels." He was of course referring to the DE-39 Maser Rifle. A rifle specially designed to tear through Beskar'gam, and roast its occupants alive. "But do give him a chance. Get someone, tell him to piss off." Foyle acknowledged and keyed in the order.
Out on the grounds, Lieutenant Parke approached the gate. He had taken messenger duty, and at around five meters from the gate cupped his leather gloved hands around his mouth. "Sir, this is an off limits area!" He shouted across the fortified fence. "We are under lock down!" He added, "If you wish to see the Ambassador, please book an appointment!" He then caught his breath, "Please adhere to the Martial Law protocol and seek shelter until authorities stipulate otherwise!"
Enemies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Rick Kaloo"] | [member="Lady Kay"] [Presumably] | [member="Darlyn Excron"] | [member="Amari Deechi"] | [member="Alexandra Feanor"]
Objective: Politick
Location: "The War Room", First Order Embassy | Main Gate, First Order Embassy
Soundtrack: Professor Schenck Halt Die Stellung | Stephan Zacharias [X]
"Colonel, we have an ID on some of those vessels sir." Agent Dautrieve snapped. Konstantin's attention was taken away from the battle display. "Especially the vessels around the palace." She elaborated, as Konstantin closed on the Agents makeshift terminal, hefted aboard a craft services table. The agent keyed in a code, "Looks like the Commoneri have friends in high places sir." She now moved away, making an entry for the Colonel, whom approached and eyed the terminals. She was right. Silver Jedi and New Republic forces. The latter did not concern him. But the former? A grim look came across the Colonel's face. It seemed now, at least, that the CSA, or at least the puppet regime which the Zambrano's had in fact established, were hell bent on colluding with enemies of the state.
But this would allow for opportunity. One of leverage. "I want a line to the Commoner Palace." Makarev growled, turning to Agent Foye. The agent looked a bit startled by the request. "For Siths sake woman! This is an embassy, is it not?!" He let a brief moment settle, "Get me a communications frequency to the palace!" Still disturbed, but understanding who she worked for Agent Ariadne Foye now began to hastily enforce her superiors will. Colonel Makarev picked up his armoured officers cap, and stood before the projector. He was attired in First Order uniform. Large greatcoat black, with crisp tunic and officers cylinders, along with a rank insignia.
"We're ready sir," Foye informed him, "She mightn't see it personally. But hopefully those in the palace will." She then keyed in one final sequence. "On your mark." Makarev breathed in, puffing his chest. He wanted to look proud. And he did. Large, deep gash scar on his face all the more apparent. His face, free of any unsightly hairs. And his jaw, clenched like a beast ready to pounce.
"Your Majesty." Colonel Makarev addressed. "I am Colonel Konstantin Makarev," He formally introduced himself. "Executive commander of forces now based at the First Order Embassy, and chief commanding officer of the Sixtieth Armoured." He allowed a bow of his head, "As it currently sits, enemies of the First Order, that being the Silver Jedi Order, are now besieging your palace, and murdering allies of our government." He then allowed himself a pause, "I believe, that this is a show of force, which violates Commoner's neutrality, and now brings into question how Dosuun shall react." He kept a stern visage, despite the truth being, how would Dosuun react to this? He couldn't tell. But he would fake it until he made it.
"In order to salvage our diplomatic friendship, and avoid escalation, commence the withdrawal of the Silver Jedi dogs, and cease their activities," His tone grew with some ferocity. From stoicism, he had turned to something akin to a rabid rancor, "I will be forced to inform my superiors Commoner has joined the Silver Jedi in their war of aggression against my forces and my people." He allowed himself another pause, "And will be forced to tell my garrison to engage the local populace as you have proven yourself an enemy." He glared what would look directly at the camera. Giving any viewer a death stare. "So unless you wish to deal with an imperial war fleet arriving from Atrisia and providing permanent regime change, I suggest you heed my warning."
He maliciously sneered, "My second stipulation, is that once the Jedi depart, to provide me and my staff access wherever they need to, to ensure the safety of your people." Which would be how Makarev planned to get him, and his charges out. But that would come later. "To anyone listening, unless you wish to make yourselves enemies of our Order. And our might. Leave. But those too stupid, or arrogant enough to tempt the wrath of Supreme Leader?" He queried, "I eagerly await watching you die."
"And as for you, your majesty? I look forward to hearing from you." He raised a fist, level with his head and the transmission cut. He turned to Foyle, "How did I do?" He asked. Keeping like that, it had its toll on the man. He had to concede. Foyle now began to press it into circulation. The comms networks around the city, were practically empty. Meaning it left the transmission with easy and direct access to the palace sir.
"Well.... It was uh.... Interesting." She mused offering a small smile, "I can't imagine they'll appreciate that much." She added, coolly. Dautrieve was similarly unimpressed, and seemed confused. "But in terms of delivery? It reminded me of some the recordings of Supreme Commander Vaas." She allowed herself another sip of her canteen, resting next to her "Do you have anything else sir?"
"I want our Special Forces to go weapons free." Makarev ordered, "We need to show these scum that we are willing, we are able and we can strike." He clenched his fist, and raised it, "Wherever, and whenever we please, even in this." He gestured around the war room, "Diminished capacity." He pulled himself a chair, and again turned to the battle. Part of him knew that this was a definitive gamble. One which may backfire entirely. But, he hoped that this may slow things. Perhaps allow some pause for thought, and even a route for the evacuation of the civilians, and his men. They just now needed to prove themselves.
"Of course Colonel." Foyle drily replied, "But what do you want me to do about the visitor?" Makarev turned his attention to the agent, who as if on cue, bought up a display screen. It showed the outer perimeter of the Embassy, and the main gate. The gate was fortified, and sealed shut. But the man outside, whomever he was, was talking. Raving even, about something or another. But he introduced himself as Minister? Makarev cocked his head, in a mixture of confusion. What sort of Minister, attired himself in, was that Beskar'gam? But that voice. It was all too familiar.
"The distraction." Makarev smouldered, "Has arrived." He tapped the armrest of his chair. He was clearly armed to the teeth. So diplomacy was evidently not on his mind. No. He was going to try something. One way, or another. "I quite like the look of his armour." He added, "See if we can get some boys with Deep Fryers trained on him, get them to the upper levels." He was of course referring to the DE-39 Maser Rifle. A rifle specially designed to tear through Beskar'gam, and roast its occupants alive. "But do give him a chance. Get someone, tell him to piss off." Foyle acknowledged and keyed in the order.
Out on the grounds, Lieutenant Parke approached the gate. He had taken messenger duty, and at around five meters from the gate cupped his leather gloved hands around his mouth. "Sir, this is an off limits area!" He shouted across the fortified fence. "We are under lock down!" He added, "If you wish to see the Ambassador, please book an appointment!" He then caught his breath, "Please adhere to the Martial Law protocol and seek shelter until authorities stipulate otherwise!"
