The Dawn Will Come | CIS & CIC

[Ascendant Muse]

C O R U S C A N T​

Local Time: 0930​

Before, all was Ash.

When last the Confederacy of Independent Systems stepped foot upon Coruscant, the world was aflame. During a terrifying offensive spearheaded by the Sith Empire, the former capital of the Galactic Alliance had been ripped asunder. A literal armada ascended forth from the mantle of the world, shattering the infrastructure under the weight of its wrath. The inferno which captured the former cradle of democracy was enough that countless lives were lost - and their survivors fled amongst the stars. On that day, the southern systems did all they could to honor their ally as she breathed her last. They attempted in vain to stop the bleeding, and when all was lost, committed themselves to seeing as many refugees to safety as possible. However, Coruscant had to be left behind. Its fate and future unknown.

Yet, it seemed as though time had the capacity to heal all wounds. It took many, many months, but the beating heart of the Core was made whole once again. Surprisingly, the hands responsible for this restoration were not the warriors of light who so often flocked to her lands. Neither was it the Sith-Imperial warmarchine which had formerly laid the planet low for that matter. No. A new kind of entity rose from the ash of what once was. A seed baptised by fire and quenched by the dawn of a new age. The were born in the shadow of Empires, yet breathed with the same progress that the Confederacy strove for. According to the faint whispers surrounding their rise, theirs was a different regime. One deserving of reaching out to. One more than worthy of an olive branch amidst the wolves.

Therefore, an accord was struck. At the appointed hour, a delegation from the Confederacy would set foot upon the Core-Imperial Capital in the name of diplomacy. What would come of their talks would remain to be seen - yet as the moment arrived, a cadre of vessels reverted into realspace above the metropolitan world. This was not nearly of the same caliber as the devoted armadas brought into theaters of war, but rather an honor guard of sorts. From this congregation did a shuttle, flanked by a small flight of droid starfighters, begin its descent through the morning skies. As they cut through the heavens, their flightpath would be monitored and eventually escorted by the first Core-Imperial vessels the Confederates would ever lay eyes on. This would occur without incident - and the delegation would promptly make landfall at the appointed starport.

In but a few moments time, the relative quiet of the port was interrupted by the din of engines roaring to a sudden cease. The mechanical echo of servos overtook this din, heralding the projection of the ramp from the rear of the Confederate shuttle. The rearmost doors gave way, revealing firstly an armored pair of Dauntless Commandos. With utmost severity, they moved forward and took their places at either ends of the ramp - just as the Confederacy's finest began to step forth into the Coruscanti sunshine. At a glance, the morning seemed…promising.

 

[Adron Malvern]

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Location: Coming out of Hyperspace
Objective: Peace
Wearing: This
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"]

Governor...

High Moff...

Guard-Captain...

Adron sat in his room in deep meditation, these words echoing through his mind until the endless void of darkness finally came to an end. His eyes shot open and the room around him became his new reality. Had it been so long ago?

He didn't count the days since he had abandoned the Imperial flag, leaving it behind him as he reached out to The Confederacy for a military asylum. He had been one of the faithful, the Guardsmen who stood by the Emperor's side and kept his trust, only to be released from the bonds of servitude upon death. The raven-haired man exhaled. It had been another link in a long chain of oaths that the Sith Lord had broken. In the end oaths were nought but words, scribbled on parchment and memorized in a vain attempt to immortalize them. Foolish notions. Still, he'd faithfully served the Empire for ten years and when it came to it's trying hours he had abandoned it.

There were some he named friend among that code. Of course, now they would call him another title, traitor.

The word echoed through his mind until finally he washed his thoughts away by closing his eyes once more. It was brief, only moments later a light came on in his room, signifying that the voyage was nearing its end. The Exarch rose to his feet, brushing off any wayward dust particles that had crowded on his knees before walking over to his desk. The trip had been brief, brief enough at least. He plucked his blazer from the chair, pulling it on and quickly adjusting his tie. When he finally made his way towards the door, his hand flew back. The walking cane that had been resting against his bed gave the faintest shiver before flying to the man's hand. Glancing in the mirror he could see his eyes were a vibrant shade of amethyst. The Dark Side influenced their color and in the next minute they would bleed back to their pure azure shade.

He made his way out of the door. In the pristine white halls of the transport Adron was met with a duo of Magnaguard bodyguard droid. The metallic duo were quick behind him as he made his way through the ship. There were many questions in the ear surrounding this evening and Adron was interested to see them answered. In the back of his mind he wondered how he would be received by a man whose trust he had so betrayed, how would he be received by [member="Tanomas Graf"]?

 

[Kier Grey]

Custodus Invigila
Coruscant, Federal District, Palatial Highway

Within a cylindrical floating amniotic artificial womb situated deep within a towering gothic Walker's head floats a young woman wearing a bodysuit connected to the floor and fed from clear fluid intravenously through cannulated ports. The bipedal War Machine stood a staggering four-hundred and sixty feet from the base of its' feet, which are easily wide enough to crush an All-Terrain Armoured Transport underfoot to the spires of a grand cathedral straddled atop its' high shoulders.

It had been stationary, like a statue for two hours waiting in reverent silence to the wonderment of many children and Citizens who gathered along the tactfully barricaded Palatial Highway at such an impossibly massive Engine, it dwarfed the Quadrepedal Walkers and Royal Guardsmen who had been assembled in deep ranks behind its' feet. They were barely visible in their formations keeping a respectable distance, the proud and traditional symbols of Imperial military prowess reduced in scale to a set of modest polymer toys.

A man with [SIZE=9pt]augmetic[/SIZE] eyes and whirring Durasteel limbs shuffles towards the transparent tank within the great gargantuan structure that passed for a humanoid skull. "...My Princeps." He begins, voice warped slightly by the Respirator sitting over the bridge of nose and cheeks even despite it Senior Officer [SIZE=9pt]Karsomir[/SIZE] attempted to stir the slumbering machine peaceably, it had seldom been known to sleep when connected with that Pilot. Who, was as cold as they were young.

The youthful woman's head visibly rose in its' amniotic tomb her jet-black hair bound back in a ponytail that sat between [SIZE=9pt]shoulder blades[/SIZE]. Her full lips did not move yet the deep baritone voice of Invigila is cast through speakers around the bridge's circumference. "Hello, [SIZE=9pt]Karsomir[/SIZE]." white Incense smoke dances lazily around the bridge even through their [SIZE=9pt]transparisteel[/SIZE] surrounding them its' pilot could still faintly detect its' reassuring soothing scent. They were ever insistent on having it burnt to conceal the strong repugnant smell of motor oil.

"My Princeps, our parade's comlink suggests the Confederacy's delegation has touched down at the spaceport." [SIZE=9pt]Karsomir[/SIZE] holds his hands in a subconscious gesture of submission across his waist, loosely clasping his own wrist in a cold set of Bionic fingers.

Icy cold air blown through air conditioning units bites at [SIZE=9pt]Karsomir's[/SIZE] skin sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

Yes The thought is beamed to the vocaliser units through a series of thick black technological dreadlocks attached to temple. "Yes." In [SIZE=9pt]concert[/SIZE], two voices spoke: One the baritone cold drone of a masculine droid, the second a young woman although she was barely audible over the Machine Consciousness. I heard After an imperceptible pause for unaugmented organics. "We heard."

[SIZE=9pt]Karsomir's[/SIZE] brass-coloured eye lenses peer towards a liquid crystal display monitor showing his charge's nervous system activity, it had returned back to normal. Praise the Force Wordlessly the man thought, his anxiety well concealed save for the swear that steadily beaded through skin despite the biting cold air. "Doctor Richter reported unusual neurological activity in Invigila's photonic processors...." He paused straightening the double-breasted jacket pressed lightly against his spindly form.

"You don't feel any numbness? Pins and Needles?" [SIZE=9pt]Karsomir[/SIZE] didn't try to conceal the concern that leered through his voice, The pilot in her artificial womb gave nothing to her thoughts steadily bobbing mouth cocked slightly as if readying herself to speak before realizing words couldn't pass through an ocean of milky liquid.

It was forever unsettling to be interred within a Princeps' amniotic tank, to be sure it was an artificial womb and therefore while it wasn't unnatural or uncomfortable it was forever unsettling even for a born and bred soldier. I am fine, I was dreaming, Val. "We are fine, we were dreaming, Val." This time the pause was longer and a set of full white teeth split the woman's face at the seam where lips meet. I was not having a stroke. It was a dark grim smile that possessed youthful visage not one of happiness. "We were not having a stroke."

Karsomir[SIZE=9pt] nods scratching the stubble at his chin[/SIZE] before he could speak his Princeps spoke words that came unexpectedly although yet welcome. Their crew had been together since the First Order and yet this was the first time she had said anything remotely appreciative beyond what was professional. Your concern is welcome Val, but unnecessary. My thanks for waking me. "Your concern is welcome Val, but unnecessary. Our thanks for waking us." Invigila's head begins to rotate steadily, Children raised their index fingers towards the moving statue with their maws agape coo'ing with wonder at the colossus.

One youngster no higher than his Father's waist clasped at the Durasteel Bars that kept him away from that fascinating construct standing high as tall as a tower scraping the heavens. His azure blue spheres narrow and give a soft tug to his nearby Father's Jeans. "Papa, what does that say?" Their question came in a Petulant groan, hinting towards the child's frustration at their own inability to read high galactic with any proficiency. Instead, they gesture towards the text.

The sun-kissed middle-aged man clasps his belt squinting at the large piece of Steel shaped like a papyrus book splayed out against metal foot baring its' pages. "It's ancient Atrisian." Beginning to smile he continued with eyes on Son's toothy grin. "'Here stands the Vigilant Guardian of Righteousness and Order'" Gaze shifted right to his wife who seemed more taken with taking pictures of everything rather than listening. Everything was out on display today, Coruscant Security Officers ensured no Citizens breached the Cordon.

Invigila's pilot peered through the Walker's eyes, studying the innumerable Citizens and Coruscant Security Force Officers who lined the boulevard that reached from the Senate Building to the Imperial Palace. They waved an assortment of flags wildly, The Confederacy's Purple, The Federation's White and Corusca Red. It made them feel vulnerable to have so many pairs of eyes fixed on their ironform. Officer Lann tapped away at the controls from his leather Command Throne. "It seems you're Popular with the Public Ma'am." Pulled back into the bridge she looked at his tall chair, hearing the smile on his face if not witnessing it.

Hazel Spheres roll around in the murky solution. I was enjoying it more in blissful ignorance. I'm accustomed to doing the observing rather than being the observed The figure floating within her amniotic tomb thought, pulsing it to the vocalisers with a thought. "We were enjoying it more in blissful ignorance. We're accustomed to doing the observing rather than being the observed."

[member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Varian Alaric"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

 

[Srina Talon]

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Location: Coruscant - Spaceport [Landing Platform]​

Wearing: XoXoXo​

Objective: Diplomacy​

CIS Tag: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Adron Malvern"]​

CIC Tag: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Varian Alaric"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"] [member="Kyli DT-6767"]​

---

She loathed Coruscant.

She did not like this place, not at all, not even a little bit.

The darkest memory she had, of the darkest day, belonged to this world. This achingly ill-equipped ecumenopolis of lights, pointed towers, and sky lanes. It was built upon the remnants of the old. Built on the backs of dead. Literally. This newly made version, this recreation of the gilded Pearl of the Galaxy, left something to be desired. Srina used to look upon the bustling city-scape with hope. There was something peaceful in watching speeders pass by, lights flaring, without a care in the world.

At least, it was peaceful, until the underbelly became exposed. Peaceful—Until the Core was rendered to pain, blood, and dust. When she closed her eyes she could see it. She could hear the war, smell the decay, and knew…Knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that ash fell like snow. Flashbacks of a ten-kilometer ship breaking in half and falling into the Archives almost made her flinch at the first blush of sunlight that kissed her skin.

Sunlight?

Coruscant had sunlight? Not burning black clouds and plumes of smoke that choked the life from everything it touched? Srina Talon blinked as mercurial eyes adjusted slowly to the new reality. Likely, it had been “new” for quite some time but the young woman hadn’t set foot on this planet after taking a slew of refugees off of it. She raised her hand to the level of her eye to give a little shade as delicate footsteps brought her down the ramp of the Ferocity. She seemed to float, rather than walk, and moved with all the grace of a little Queen. It wasn’t due to noble birth. Or high-born upbringing. It was simply the way she was. Pristine—Perfect. At all times. In all things.

The diminutive creature was wrapped in white shimmersilk that held to her form as if she had been poured into it. A gray cloak, made for mourning, flowed with her movements as if it were part of her. The thin gossamer that it was made from seemed as if it had been stolen from the wing of a butterfly. It was a cruel comparison, but in the moment, ever so accurate. Much like her fellow Exarch, [member="Adron Malvern"], she was flanked by two Magnaguard.

They did not remain visible. Her hand moved, a faint gesture, and their stealth tech spun up in a hurry. The metal monstrosities disappeared from sight as if they had never existed in the first place. Good. Causing a panic was the last thing she wanted, however, the Vicelord preferred that they not travel completely unprepared. Beyond that she was scarcely armed. She was slated to meet with [member="Darth Metus"] and [member="Adron Malvern"] further down on the landing platforms. While she waited she let her gaze flicker over the people in the area. There were so many faces. All smiling. Happy. It was so surreal.

Perhaps this Confederation would be good for the Core. It was the first nation that dared to claim Coruscant after all had fallen, nearly lost, and it was with the sense of a misbegotten lost puppy that she felt obligated to at least oversee the proceedings. These were politicians and sought to become the phoenix that rose from the ashes of the Galactic Alliance. Did she not owe it to her former allegiances, to her future husband, to see this through? For all they had lost…Yes. She did.

Glancing around the sunlit pathways she eventually let a sigh pass through primrose tinted lips. It was sight. Were it not for the fact that she shoulders moved, signifying that she drew breath, the flaxen-haired Sith could have easily been mistaken with a statue. Lithe fingers brushed over her Holo-Comm and the Apprentice of Darth Metus chided both figures that she had waited so patiently for.

“Gentlemen. You are late. This will make me late.”

Srina despised being tardy.

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter
Coruscant - Landing Platform
CIC | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]
CIS [Interacting with]| [member="[/SIZE]Srina Talon"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​

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To stand among Imperials once more was strange, to stand among Imperials once more felt unnatural, and alien, and -- wrong. The last time Varian had stood among Imperial Stormtroopers had been months ago, maybe eight, maybe nine, he knew not the exact time-frame. At that time he had been a member of the Order of Ren, he had been a Knight of Ren. And then, the young man had left the fleeting and corrupted clutches of the First Order. Alaric had left behind what he had once known as truth and loyalty and allegiance. He left his friends behind, most notably Marriskcal Lati and Seto Du Couteau. Varian had known Marr for as far back as he could remember, back to that day in the throne room which had originally torn the Order of Ren asunder and fractured them, now, it seemed, permantely. What once were shallowy dug holes with seedlings, had not blossomed into thick and searching roots, the roots of...what the young man could only assume was free-will and the choice to choose for himself his own path in his life. Six long years in the First Order...and all it took was a rough twelve, or ten, or eleven months for all of his loyalty to have become splintered and broken to the point to where he had left behind everything he had known and strove to make a new life for himself.
Away from it all, on his own.

Which was why when he stood here now, his shoulder mere feet away from a Stormtrooper who bore the marks of the 101st Wolfpack Legion it felt so wrong and frightening. Though, Varian suppressed his emotions as he had been taught to do as a Knight of Ren. He had cut himself off from the force due to prolonged self-detachment from it, after all, he hadn't wanted to be followed...so suppressing his emotions was no different, in theory.

His glacier blue eyes carefully watched the man to his right, unease settling within his stomach. The stark white armor contrasted with the light blue-grey 'wolf' markings and symbols painted onto the armor, giving it and it's fellow compatriots which stood behind both him and Varian a distinction from the shiney's and the Courscant guard. Shifting his eyes away from his worry, Varian pointed his eyes forwards towards the landing of a woman. He had been filled in earlier by Har'xa Escala as to who these people were and what they looked like. This woman...was, Alaric assumed, one Srina Talon. He knew not of her name, though she carried herself with prejudice and pride so she was someone of great namesake and importance.

Thus, the squadron of Wolfpack troopers, with Varian Alaric and a Sergeant Thorne at the head. The marching of the seven sounded as though a drumbeat of some percussion. When they reached the landing pad, the Sergeant stepped forwards, outstretching a hand as an act of good will and diplomatic tranquility towards the woman, towards Srina Talon.

"Exarch Srina Talon, High Chancellor Tanomas Graf welcomes you to the capitol of the Core Imperial Confederation. I am Sergeant Thorne, and this is my compatriot Corvus...," Thorne spoke formally and with gravitas, gesturing first towards Varian, or Corvus as was his mercenary name, and then to the stormtrooper squadron behind the pair. "...we will accompany you to the Imperial Palace for diplomatic talks."

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Planet: Coruscant
Status: Determined, slightly relaxed
Actions: Await for the CIS Delegates

Spoiler: Apparel

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Delegations from the Confederacy of Independent Systems, a rather interesting event for the Core Imperial Confederacy, but something larger was also at play. Seto himself understood the weight of the event that was transpiring, for such reason he made sure to be present for how these discussions. Oh how time passes and the Universe appears to shrink instead of expanding outwards.

Seto gazed upwards to the skies above, droid fighters and the Confederacy Shuttles were approaching and Seto felt a familiar presence, one he knew for some time and another he had only once felt upon the sands of Tatooine. His hands pressed his vest against his chest, the creases smoothed as he straightened his neck tie carefully. Gloved hands than combed through his hair, and much like his hair his gloves shared the same color; a snow white.

The wind gently pushed his short cape back, Seto eyed his right shoulder and gently moved tugged on the swaying fabric. Their guests were arriving, and shortly there after, these discussions could begin.

"We live in strange times, and even stranger circumstances." Seto directed his attention next to him, while many other officials or governing leaders brought along an escort of armed guards or even droids, Seto rarely brought any accompanying soldiers. Besides, Seto figured that if anything truly required aggressive attention than none was suited better than his sister Marr; the Huntress.

Seto gave her a whimsical smile, "-We'll be awaiting for the Confederacy's leadership, and hopefully enjoy the discussions." Seto often wondered if his patience with the mundane and obtuse of high society would prepare him for any political assignment. But our guests today will be far from mundane. He bore his once enemy no ill will, lest for the fact that he still was alive after all, and much like most wounds, time healed the majority of them.

Time has passed since we last met. Seto's smile cracked near the edges of his lips, his eyes focused ahead and he truly wondered what this galaxy had in store for them all. Why am I so anxious? The young Du Couteau heir stood silent, his fingers clasped behind his back.

Spoiler: Tags

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Varian Alaric"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"]

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Marriskcal Lati
Status: Wary
Objective: Awaiting the arrival of the Confederacy delegation

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Clear blue eyes turned to regard Seto as he broke the silence.

To the young woman, this was just another day in the machinations of an Empire.

Perhaps the Lord and Master she served was a different man from the one she once followed faithfully. While she felt no loyalty, nor held any sentiments towards this Tanomas Graf person, her brother did. And thus despite her misgivings, Marriskcal gave this High Chancellor a wary chance.

Perhaps the world they stood on was different from the quiet elegance of Avalonia. Coruscant was vile, and her mind has not known a moment of quiet ever since she followed her brother to this world of glitz and gilt. Every single thing about this place was overwhelming and confusing to one as sheltered as she was. But she persevered, for she still believed in the faraway dream of peace and order.

Marriskcal stood beside Seto, appearing like a reflection of her brother in a feminine version of his own ensemble. Her pale blonde tresses and the edges of her clothing flowed with the whims of a zephyr as she tilted her head to a side in quiet contemplation of the vague words he graced her with. But unlike her more particular brother, the young woman ignored the disheveled fabric, her gaze moving to the vessels that were landing in the distance.

“Are you expecting trouble?”

Never one to wander without a cause, the blonde has only heard rumours and hearsays of the Confederacy of Independent Systems and their leaders. But with her brother’s aura swirling with hesitation and unease, Marriskcal found herself becoming concerned by their presence on Coruscant soil.

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CIC Tags:
[member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Varian Alaric"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

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CIS Tags:
[member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​

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[Malok]

Accompanying: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Luna Terrik"]​

Tag: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Varian Alaric"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

He could feel it upon the air.

When it came to the everlasting bond between the Master and his Apprentice, there were very few things that one could hide from the other. [member="Srina Talon"] knew, at a moment's notice, when any situation caused the Sith Lord distress. She knew his wrath. Knew his pain. Knew even the fleeting moments of genuine joy. In the same, Darth Metus knew that the journey back to Coruscant would be a difficult one. Prior to that fateful day, when the surface itself gave way to the wrath of the Sith Empire, the jewel of the Core had been a place of fondness for the pair. After all, it was here that the Vicelord first encountered the alabaster woman and took her as his apprentice. Yet, in the present, that good memory paled in comparison to the sleepless nights that had plagued the Echani for quite some time.

In truth, it was hard not to look upon Coruscant with different eyes when her thoughts and feelings flowed through him like water. Nonetheless, as his transport settled down onto the Core-Imperial Capital, Darth Metus set his jaw and centered his thoughts. In the wake of the Galactic Alliance's fall, his nation did everything it took to never be caught off guard so brutally. They rose and put to the sword those of similar ilk to the slayers of Coruscant - suffering not yet another Empire to live being their rallying cry. Yet, the initial reports of the new occupants of Cosucant spoke of a new mindset taking root. Imperial, but...not. Confederacy, but not. They were not so different in ideals - at least at a glance. And therefore, they had come to see what the future held for them all.

Long, confident strides bore the Vicelord down the ramp and to where his Dauntless Commandos stood waiting. He gave a nod to the rightmost trooper, [member="Luna Terrik"], who was in truth the head of the Confederacy's Dauntless Legion. The Sith found himself relying more and more upon the Commander's skills as of late, and could think of none better to round out his security detail this day. Together, the trio would make their advance to where [member="Srina Talon"] and [member="Varian Alaric"] stood waiting. Fortunately, the Sith was not too tardy that they had moved on without them. And [member="Adron Malvern"] himself was not too far behind as well. For the time being, as the Echani's voice rang fresh in his ear, the Sith simply made his arrival at her side.

For that was where he belonged and would always be.

"Pardon the delay." he breathed, regarding their escort with a respectful nod. "Exarch Malvern will be along in just a moment. Please, lead on."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Accompanying: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Luna Terrik"]
CIC People: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Varian Alaric"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets
Location: with the CIS people

Her heart was pounding. The last time Scherezade had been on Coruscant, she had been murdered. Almost murdered. No one was clear on the exact detail; some had been certain that he lightsaber she had taken directly to the heart, the scar of which was still upon her body, had killed her, and that she had been bought back. Others were certain that she had not died, but had come dangerously close to it before being poured with the spirt ichor that restored her after a week of being stuck in the Darkness. It was an event that had set many others into motion, ending with her killing herself, though that was something none of those gathered knew.

The person she had put in her place, the woman who had walked with her skin and had been spelled to believe it was truly her, she had been Coruscanti-born. Or at least so Scherezade had designed her to believe. Madalena Antares had grown up on the planet, had lost her parents two years prior to joining the Confederacy, and had lost her home during the most recent war, the one at which both [member="Darth Metus"] and [member="Srina Talon"] had made the attempt to help the innocents. Madalena herself would have been nervous arriving here, having never returned to the planet since believing to have left it.

All those who were gathered and knew her, or thought they knew her, would have no reason to believe anyone but Madalena Antares was part of the security detail of the entourage that had arrived here that day. Their datafiles would claim the same. In the months Madalena had spent in Scherezade's body, she had carved her path and worked hard among the Knights Obsidian, earning her various titles of respect such as perfect soldier. Scherezade was jealous, for the two had not really performed any different on the battle field.

Her face was blank, the perfectness of emotionless, almost emulating one of the people she was here to protect. There were many words she had to give to what was to occur, but Scherezade knew better than to voice any of them. She had been summoned to this meeting for her (lack of) skill with words, her (lack of) charisma, or anything else but her efficiency when needing to be deadly, when needing to protect the lives of those who speardheaded the Confederacy. In a twisted turn of events, the very people who had been charge of the gigantic pyramid that handled her to believing she was so unwanted.

Yet it had been her choice to continue to parade to be Madalena – at least for the time being. Her thoughts, emotions, feelings, her everything – were closely guarded, protected beyond mental walls that would require utmost violence to break through. And while she continued to be Madalena, the looks and stares she received were so different than those she got a Scherezade. And as she resumed to keep the deception up, she knew that she had to behave as Madalena would. Perhaps smiling slightly less, but still. Madalena would perform her duty. Scherezade would as well.

As the people of the Confederacy gathered, she herself was ready too. They would be protected. If things went sour, she would kill those who would try to destroy them. For while she may have been a walking deception, she had but one goal; ensure the spearheads made it out in one safe piece.

 

[Luna Terrik]

Time: 0930 hours
Location: Coruscant Space Port: The CIS delegation
CIS VIPs: [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Adron Malvern"] [member="Darth Metus"]
CIS Security Detail: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
CIC VIPs: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] [member="Varian Alaric"] [member="Seto Du Couteau"] [member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
Equipment: Dauntless Armor, SC4 Repeater, Tactical Recon Handguns (2)

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It certainly wasn’t often that Luna was asked to join any sort of protection unit for a delegation off world. Being the commander of the Dauntless legion meant that she was more often than not deployed to the front lines, more than on guard duty for any sort. Still, this wasn’t any ordinary guard mission. This was the leaders and some of the most powerful men and women of the Confederacy, all coming to a singular place. In her mind, it was begging for disaster in a way that would be unrepairable. So when her leader had asked to personally head up the security detail, Luna made sure there would be nothing unaccounted for.

In orbit, circling the planet, the Rebllious Hawk, Luna’s personal Hellspear Frigate stood at the ready with the entire commando group on the ship ready to drop down to the surface at a moment’s notice. It’s shuttles were all fueled up, awaiting her singular order to begin bringing down every single man she had under her deposal if needed. Circling the building in low orbit, a group of MAT-Class Dropships along with their fighter escort. It would take them under two minutes to arrive at the meeting port, providing the group a quick exfil. Their routes out of this place were secured, though that wasn’t nearly enough for the commander.

Tens of hours had been spent pouring over documents and blueprints of their meeting location. Every single detail of where they would be meeting, blind spots, and possible exfil locations were observed by her careful eye, along with a handpicked security council to help plan out the meeting. In the end, it was decided that having eleven pairs of boots on the ground would be best. Three, including Luna herself, would be the security detail personally with the Exarchs. Their job was to follow the group as closely as possible, never letting them out of their sight. The two others, Tein and Q’alia, were among Luna’s most trusted soldiers, which is why she felt safe enough with them being the other part of the security detail. The other six commandos on site would be split into two groups. A group of four patrolling the building for any possible threats, staying within a fifteen to thirty second sprint from the VIP location. The final two, a handpicked spotter and sniper, would keep eyes on the three planned exfil locations, making sure they stayed clear and relaying that information constantly to Luna.

Was this all overkill? The CIC delegation had shown no aggression toward the Confederacy, but having all of these VIPs in the same location scared the commander like nothing else. There was too much that could possibly go wrong, even if she accounted for as much as possible. She wasn’t letting the nerves of the mission get to her, but she would admit that many a stressful night had been spent planning this.

So when her Exarch walked down the ramp, giving her a small nod, she couldn’t help but smile lightly underneath her helmet and nod back, letting him pass. Gripping her rifle tighter in her gloved hands, the commander quickly fell in step with the man, with the other two commanders flanking her left and right. Tein, the taller one, walked with his shoulder at her head to her right, and Q’alia, around Luna’s height, could be seen staying in close to step with her commander to the left. At the entrance to the port, the group of four other commandos stood, shoulder stood, awaiting Luna’s command to begin their patrol through the assigned area of the building. The sniper team would have been set up hours, perhaps even a day ago, so there was no worry about that.

What was worrying was the fact that the last Exarch had not arrived yet, and from Vicelord’s words, it sounded like he was still on this way. Quickly reaching up to a small button on her helmet, she commed the other two groups of commandos, speaking in a hushed tone that could only be heard inside her helmet by a normal man. “Patrol group, you will split your team in two. Two of you will stay at the port, to escort Exarch Malvern to the meeting location. The other two will begin the patrol route. Sniper team will give us an update when the Exarch’s ship arrives. Be prompt.”

With that, the woman lowered her hand, and, for the first time, glanced over at the Knight Obsidian, a dark haired woman, that had joined the group. Of course, Luna had been briefed on this beforehand, and believed that the Knight could be of asset if needed. She only hoped she could follow order’s if that was needed, as well. The commander would give her a small nod, before focusing back on the task at hand.

Leaning forward, Luna spoke in a hushed tone to the Vicelord, informing him of the commando’s progress. “All teams are in place, my lord. We may proceed.” With her approval give, she leaned back, eyes straight forward and scanning, mind already working to find if anything was out of place. For a meeting this important, the smallest thing that looked wrong could spell disaster if left unchecked. This meeting was going to be a success, at least from the protection standpoint. The rest, the politics, were up to the Exarchs and Vicelord.

​

 

[Adron Malvern]

​

Location: Coruscant
Objective: Peace
Wearing: This
Tags: [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Seto Du Couteau"] [member="Varian Alaric"]

​

​

"No. I arrive exactly when I mean to." The Exarch's voice rang over the shoulders of his fellow Exarch and his own master. The man approached the group, flanked by a small escort of the Confederacy's infamous magnaguard. These units paused in their advance, settling their electrostaffs against the ground while Adron made his way to the others. It was not often the Vicelord and both his Exarch's moved as one, however whenever such an event did occur it required a good deal on the side of security. They were, essentially, the heads of The Confederacy and the death of any one of them could leave their nation undefended.

The Exarch nodded to each of them, before turning his eyes to the Imperials sent to receive them. It was almost laughable. How he had once stood as one of them, and now he'd retired his service uniform for the halls of politics. He could not help but smile at the thought.

His walking cane rested against the ground while he turned his eyes away from the group. Ah there it was. The first familiar presence. How long had it been since Adron had seen the young Inquisitor?

He said nothing, instead his eyes became fastened back on the man who approached them to see them away. "We'd hate to keep the High Chancellor waiting." He said smoothly, gesturing for the man to lead the way.

 

[Kier Grey]

Custodus Invigila
Coruscant, Federal District, Palatial Highway
Tags: [member="Varian Alaric"], [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Luna Terrik"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Tanomas Graf"]

The Pilot's mind sends a pulsing thought to the onboard Transceiver broadcasting the voice of Custodus Invigila into Sergeant Thorne's helmet. "Sergeant Thorne this is Invigilata, advise on the estimated time of arrival for the Delegation. Over." The vocaliser units on cylindrical amniotic tank rumble that strange duet of woman and machine into the skull's confines again. Karsomir dutifully returned to his Command Throne. "Plasma Reactor operating at peak capacity my Princeps." His pair of ruby-coloured lenses whirr in eye-sockets.

"The parade honour guard shall march then." A few seconds pass and the Custodus Invigila took its' first uncertain step along the thick Palatial highway causing the very ground to tremor with the violence akin to a starship crash landing. Several observing citizens immediately clutched their ears protecting those sensitive organs from a thud comparable to a sonic boom sending nearby windows into a conspicuous rattle. Platoons of troops follow with palpable anxiety and pride, anxiety because one couldn't help but must that if the Custodus fell for whatever reason it would certainly crush all of them before any opportunity to avoid such a fate presented itself.

Lumbering down the Palatial Highway like an old man who hadn't used their legs after being laid into a bed for an extended period of time. "They look so small from up here." Lann chuckled heartily his gaze flicking between the console display beneath gloved fingers and the astonishing view afforded from Custodus' many eye lenses. Jubilant children wave their little flags with greater vigour now that the exciting statue had proven itself not any mere prop by a creature in its' own right. Its' Pilot wearily studies their wonder but cannot help but feel a small sense of gratifying joy fill their heart. About One-Kilometer away the Imperial Palace waited and Invigila bellowed out a mighty thunderous roar that echoed down through the street smashing against those legions of revellers and Coruscant Policemen.

Custodus Invigila was now awake and the four-hundred and sixty feet tall Bipedal Walker would make itself known all across the Federal District. Even unto the Skylanes streaming above with more than one pair of astonished eyes leaning precariously out of their luxurious airspeeders in the hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever monster roared such an unnaturally deep mechanical cry that threatened to split transparisteel such was its' unpleasant sonic resonance.

 

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Objective - Don't Hate People​

Location: Coruscant, Federal District​

Wearing: This​

​

​

He was there.

A platoon of Stormtroopers entered the docking bay of the port, each and every one clad in their Katarn-class Battle Armour with black and gold accents. They lined up parallel to each other, stretching from the ship to the exit, all twenty-four of them standing at attention with their blaster rifles ported. Polished dress shoes clacked against the durasteel ground as the Imperial High Chancellor appeared, more than likely quite different from how the young Lord Malvern would have remembered him when the older man presided over his trial in the aftermath of the Dominion's fall. He appeared almost twenty years younger, his once pearly white hair now a blackish brown, his face smoother and almost devoid of wrinkles. Tanomas Graf was also nearly a foot taller than those in attendance, something he was quite proud of, now done playing the part of the feeble old man.

Behind him trotted a beagle that kept up in pace behind its obvious owner, pawing at the man's ankle when he finally halted before sitting down and watching the new arrivals with interest, its tail wagging in earnest.

He stopped just before the entourage of Confederacy VIPs, permitting a small bow and a wave of his hand. "Vicelord Metus. It brings me great pleasure to welcome you and your Exarchs to the capital of the Imperial Confederation." Graf addressed, a glint of amusement prevalent in his eyes. It was quite ironic, to say the least, as the last regime that the elder Graf headed was always at odds with the Confederacy of Independent Systems, memories of the Tatooine incident distant but still vivid. But that was the past, a grudge that he couldn't afford to hold, not in this day and age. If they were willing to forgive him for the mistakes he made, then he would do the same.

And with that, his eyes lingered over the sight of Adron Malvern a second longer than they should have, the corner of his lips curling upward marginally in a bittersweet smile when he remembered one of his greatest achievements...

...and one of his worst mistakes.

[member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Varian Alaric"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Coruscant - Spaceport [Landing Platform]​

Wearing: XoXoXo​

Objective: Diplomacy​

CIS Tag: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

CIC Tag: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Varian Alaric"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Kyli DT-6767"],​

---

The Exarch waited rather impatiently for her fellow Confederates, however, her expression remained still as stone. The only thing that gave away her humanity was the steady and slight rise and fall of her chest when she breathed. Mercurial eyes settled on a soldier approaching in white armor with blue markings. She loathed when men resorted to helmets and masks. Stormtroopers and Mandalorians in full armor were among her least favorite enemies, if only, because all of their heavy gear was distracting. It was harder to gauge their movements and intent.

Nevertheless, as the rhythmic tapping of feet stopped, she found a friendly hand extended to her person. Srina felt as if she’d been spending too long around the perceived royalty of space. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d participated in a simple handshake over the demure inclination of her head. Slender digits would become engulfed in the hand that the soldier offered and the familiarity of his words assured his intentions. “Thank you for meeting us, Sergeant Thorne.”

She released the gloved hand of the much taller man when she felt her Master approaching. He apologized for any lateness in their collective stead, almost, as if he had read her mind. The Apprentice fell in step beside her Master. In truth, she had visited Coruscant many times, though she’d never been required to maintain an escort before. ‘At least…At least we can breathe the air this time. See the sky.’

Her mind brushed softly against that of [member="Darth Metus"]. It was a gentle feeling, whilst she tiptoed the halls of his mind, versus someone forcing their way into his psyche, unwanted. She was tethered to the dark-skinned Sith with an unbreakable bond. He would know her feelings about Coruscant, despite, the fact that the expression of the moonlit beauty had not changed.

Madalena Antares [[member="Scherezade deWinter"]] and [member="Luna Terrik"] had been selected to attend and the white-haired Exarch tossed a glance back at the Knight that she had grown familiar with throughout their many adventures. “You will come with me Knight Antares?”, Srina spoke up, assuming, that Commander Terrik would accompany either Metus or Adron.

Speaking of, she could hear the Commander making arrangements, although, the littlest Exarch wasn’t certain of the need. If the CIC wanted them dead they could have easily shot them out the sky during re-entry. The defenses of Coruscant were already back online. Regardless, it was the duty of the Knights Obsidian and the Dauntless to ensure that their missions were successful. This was a mission if there ever was one.

Not a moment later the familiar voice of [member="Adron Malvern"] rained down to her ears and the young woman turned slightly to greet him. It amused her to see the differences in security that they preferred. Srina, generally speaking, carried a nigh-invisible walking arsenal. It was true that all three had access to the Force but it was not something the Echani used as a crutch. With or without it…The seemingly delicate creature was an absolute nightmare. Her friend commented about the High Chancellor waiting and the ivory haired woman released a gentle laugh. It was sweet, soft, and akin to morning bells.

Srina did not like to be late, however, the facts remained. “He will wait a moment.”

She had said the same when they’d entered the Fel Empire. The irony was not lost on her. To do anything else was a waste of time, and that, was not something she believed any High Chancellor would be able to abide.

Her focus was stolen by a large group of soldiers that seemed to be going down the Palatial Highway. Srina took a step forward, hand resting on the Vicelord’s arm, if only, so that she could see better. Her meager height made it so that most of the troopers loomed overhead. They blocked the view. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. It was akin to the war march of their Droid Army, but this, had streets filled with joyful civilians. A parade? Was today special in some way?

The arrival of the High Chancellor was unexpected. [member="Tanomas Graf"] was slated to meet them at one of the governmental buildings was he not? Perhaps, he had come to watch his people celebrate before they got down to brass tacks. The sight of something small and furry walking alongside the spearhead of the CIC caused her to take a step to the side. Was it…A Yorshi? No, not quite.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. What is Coruscant celebrating?”

The Echani wanted to ask about the small friend that he brought with him, but, was it appropriate? Srina was always very good with animals. She just hadn’t seen one quite like this before.

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter
Coruscant - Landing Platform​

Allies: [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

CIS: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

​

Varian's glacier blue eyes carefully watched the exchange between Srina Talon and Seargent Thorne, looking for any signs that would give either away as though they were some betrayer. Yet, there was no sign. There were no secret traitorous signs that the former Knight of Ren hoped to see, there was no justification for him to take up arms against the imperial troopers who surrounded him. Something which did upset the man, though it also helped to put his mind at ease as well. It allowed his paranoia and fear to wash away, replaced by curiosity at what may happen, at what could happen. From such a brief exchange between the two people of different nations, Alaric was calmed, his worries ceased, albeit temporarily. Though the pills Har'xa had given the man helped to quell his paranoia, lingering traces still remained that he tried to control. And luckily, he was able to keep them in check from witnessing such a brief exchange of diplomacy and neutrality between the two individuals.

Seargent Thorne and his fellow troopers of Wolfpack took to the walls of the hanger bay while others began a patrol once the Nova Troopers, once High Chancellor Tanomas Graf had arrived. The worked and moved as machines, easily compliant to the man's presence and following secret orders of security to keep the High Chancellor safe. Varian found such a display daunting, to say the least. The last time he had seen such a thing, the last time he had seen such a display of power without words was in Sieger Ren. A man whom he now loathed, a man whom he now hated with a burning passion. Alaric still found is strange that he had, at one time, held the Supreme Leader in such high regard like he were some godly religious being who he wanted to be yet had no hope to do so. And now? Now he knew the truth. Varian had wasted six years of his life in devote devotion to the man who was the Supreme Leader, all until he culled the Ren and then disappeared from view once more. The disappearance was something he could handle, the culling of so many innocent souls was another. Varian was never one who would support such heinous crimes unless cleverly convinced and reassured, and even then, it was a hard task.

In the end, he had left the First Order because of such things. And yet, here he found himself again...in the service of an Imperial power. In the service of a man whom he knew from rumors alone had caused genocide and mass desturction. And yet, the man who presented himself now was none of these things. He looked to be a friendly man with gravitas with a dog at his side. And yet, Alaric wasn't fooled...though he kept his thoughts to himself to see what would become of this meeting...sulking to a wall and watching the meeting, hands folded behind his back.

Though he was a mercenary, he was a loyal one, like a dog he supposed...