Whill Shaman Dažbog
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Water is the most important element of life. For without Water, you cannot make Coffee.
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Affiliation: Ancient Order of the Whills
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Post by Whill Shaman Dažbog on Jun 7, 2013 9:07:54 GMT -8
 The Fountain Palace, also known as the Castle of Per'Agthra was the premier royal residence of the Queen Mothers who ruled the Hapes Consortium. Situated on Hapes itself, this centuries-old fortress-palace served as an ancient symbol of royal authority for the monarchy. It is both an elegant and sophisticated yet technical looking Palace which resides atop crags overlooking the main capital city. The Palace cuts a stark contrast to the natural forms around it with its clean engineered lines and large looming tower surrounded by at least two smaller towers. A large castle styled entrance serves as the prominent main entrance into the Palace. |
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on Jun 13, 2013 21:30:45 GMT -8
=Queen Mother Emelie Ka=
Emelie sat in an ancient wicker chair, rocking comfortably as she looked out over the city from the top of one of the observation towers that crowned the Fountain Palace. As the highest point in this, her capital city, the Queen Mother, or any of her entourage and guests, could gain a stunning view of the surrounding city and countryside from way up here. Tonight was no different than any of the thousands of other nights since Commander Djo's triumph, and yet, the fresh air seemed to smell just a little sweeter, and the sharp reds and yellows of the western sunset seemed just a little more vivid. It was utterly peaceful. Emelie smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with age as she did.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2013 9:55:06 GMT -8
*The door to the observation tower slid open smoothly with barely an audible sound. A gentle muttered word was issued by Ana as she motioned for the guard to remain outside by the door.
She moved serenely her silken evening gown swishing as she moved, almost glided to her Mother's side.*
*The Queen Mother often could be found here, Ana reminisced of how she had been held in that very same ancient chair and told stories by her Mother, now it was her Mother who spent many hours in this very same chair, Ana couldn't but help see the irony.*
*Ana remained silent and placed an elegant slender hand upon the back of the chair and joined her Mother in watching the ambient evening glow as the sun set.*
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on Jul 3, 2013 19:42:48 GMT -8
=Queen Mother Emelie Ka=
The door barely made a sound, but even with her diminished hearing, the Queen Mother knew who approached long before she actually looked away from the brilliant sunset. The feeling of warmth deep within her deepened still further. Yes, the Consortium was in good hands, she mused, although she was not quite sure why the matter of succession had hung so heavily upon her in recent days. It was just the weary musings of a tired mind, she assumed. Old age was upon her. But she was not dead yet!
After a moment, Emelie turned, and shot a warm, loving smile over her right shoulder, in the direction of her eldest daughter.
"Ana." She asked quietly, her gaze returning to the western sky. "Did I ever tell you about the last time I saw my grandmother, before the Sith came?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 8, 2013 10:16:32 GMT -8
*Often her Mother came out with one story or another and Ana would always patiently listen, some declared the Old Woman soft and snickered at her ramblings, but Ana knew how smart and intelligent her Mother was, you only had to look into that sharp sparkle in her eye to know she still had full faculty of her intellect and used the guise of a frail old woman greatly to her benefit.
The time before the Sith, Ana frowned, why detail this event now?
Ana pondered what bearing this had, for her Mother never made a slight or a movement without assessing its weight, there was purpose in everything, merit in every statement. Yet the times before the Sith was not something her aged Mother had ever breached before, Ana of course knew that the planet had, like many other fallen under the scrutiny of the malicious gaze of the Sith but Ana had been very young, too young to remember and in the past her Mother had always said; "Oh, well that is a story for another day." Having been told that on a number of occasions the oppression of the Sith was not a topic Ana had ever again brought up and it had in fact been pushed to the dark recesses of her mind.
A wan smile dressed her lips as she regarded her Mother, her eyes narrowed as she studied her; saying, "What are you getting at Mother?", she smoothed her expression.*
"No, Mother, I don't believe you ever have."
*Ana folded her arms neatly across her chest and paid rapt attention to her Mother, and after he Mother failed to continue she lifted her right arm and circled a hand in a motion that said, please continue.*
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Darth Belial
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"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220 
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Aug 14, 2015 22:25:45 GMT -8
The Castle of Per'Agthra During the flight towards the Fountain Palace, Karasi had slowly begun to develop a sensation of uneasiness in regards to the shrouded Jedi Knight. Something about him had seemed off in the comparisons she had made with both the previous Jedi she had met, and the ones filling the storybooks of her childhood. From the very moment the two of them had made each other's acquaintance, his seemingly weathered face had been kept secreted under the heavy fabric of his hood, leaving nothing more than small indentations to mark him out as a Zabrak - though she could not be sure from where this one had hailed. The man was reserved, keeping to himself for most of the trip - whilst the woman had done all she could to divert her attentions toward the polite Felucian Captain, the restless sentiment began to swell within her stomach.
When the time had come for the shuttle to embark upon the final leg of its approach to the mountain fortress of the Queen Mother, the Handmadien had felt the uncomfortable sensation gradually being replaced by a welcome inkling of relief. Soon she would be rid of this Jedi, and free to pursue her own agenda until the Ereneda had called once more; and it was that thought alone that had kept her calm once the shuttle had come into the hangar for a landing. Karasi never truly felt at ease in the company of a man, let alone two. It was something about their mannerisms that had put her on another course, leading towards the life she had made for herself.
As the landing struts had kissed the marbled flight deck, letting the sound of two star-crossed lovers echo throughout the grandiose hangar bay, Karasi had palmed the shuttle’s access panel and watched on as both door’s slide open. At last, she was where she had wanted to be. In a few more minutes, she would be rid of these two men for the time being, and be allowed to visit with the woman she loved and the child they had brought into this world together. Pushing the thought of her family aside so that she wouldn’t be distracted in front of her sovereign’s honoured guests, the Handmadien turned about and waited for the two men to take their leave of the shuttle. As she waited, the woman took the chance to fix the mess her hair had become in the backdraft of cycling heat wash of the engines, as well as straightening out her obsidian attire.
The four alabaster clad Honour Guards had disembarked the shuttlecraft after their charges, ensuring that none of their belongings, should they be left behind by mistake, had remained upon the vessel. With blaster’s in tow, they formed up into two groups behind each of the newly arrived representatives. Though there was little chance of something going wrong within the heart of the Fountain Palace, they all had sworn an oath to ensure that no harm would come to these men - despite the fact they were of a less savoury gender. Thus, as they waited for the party to make their move, their eyes were vigilant for signs of something worthy enough to be considered a threat.“Shall we proceed into the Palace, or would you like some time to take in the sights?” Karasi had asked, nay almost shouted, as the thunderous roar of the engines throttled down into a muzzled whisper. |
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 17, 2015 13:30:28 GMT -8
Captain Marris barely heard his hostess over the dying roar of the shuttle's engines, distracted by the beauty that the hangar alone held, let alone the vistas he had seen while en route. His eyes wandered across the facility, taken aback at the workmanship and the love that had gone into designing the hangar bay. For him, such places had always been utilitarian areas, focused solely on getting the ships they held fueled and ready for the next sortie. But this was something else altogether. The floor didn't appear the slightest bit blemished, nor the walls even remotely scorched. Had they not just arrived on the shuttle, Captain Marris would have been hard-pressed to believe that the building they were in was meant to house anything harder or heavier than a collection of the local flora.
"No, thank you," the Jedi finally said in the place of his captain, his attempt at a polite refusal somewhat undermined by his voice - barely more than a growl - "our mission here is of the utmost importance. It's vital that we speak to the Ereneda as quickly as possible."
And through it all, the Jedi barely moved; only a slight difference in the creasing of his saffron-colored hood gave any indication that his head had turned to speak to Karasi at all. And while he had meant no ill intent or disrespect, it was clear that the hooded Zabrak had no calling as a diplomat simply from the way his voice sounded. But despite the tone, there was undoubtedly an air of authority to it that nobody in earshot could deny. And more than that, there was an assertiveness that was uncommon among his kind, as if the very sound of his words carried an unspoken command. Whether it was experience in command positions, unease at an already tenuous situation, or a combination of the two was unclear. So far, the only clear thing about the Jedi was that he had far less desire to be on Hapes than his further-enthralled companion did.
The Hapan women had been far friendlier than either of the pair had been expecting, but the Jedi was far from ready to lower his guard. And he was going to have several choice words for Captain Marris for lowering his own.
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Darth Belial
Member
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Aug 21, 2015 1:23:34 GMT -8
“Very well.” The Handmaiden had said, doing her best to keep her composure in the face of hearing the Master Jedi speak in such a terse manner. The question itself had been something of a token gesture, nothing more than a natural instinct that had come to the fore without her having to give it any thought. Had she done so, Karasi would’ve simply - and silently - led the two men into the Royal Court and into the audience chambers of the Queen Mother thereafter. However, here she was wasting the man’s time with pointless pleasantries. How diplomatic of her. Subtly issuing a hushed curse in her native language, the woman gestured for the men to follow her. Without looking back to see if they had taken the hint, as she had full confidence they would, the Handmaiden led the two men through the hallowed marble halls of the Fountain Palace.
It was at the end of a long stretch of intersecting corridors, before a great steel bulkhead trimmed in ivory, that Karasi’s duty as escort had come to an end. She turned and stood aside, letting her hands clasp behind the small of her back. The Handmaiden had believed the act would make her seem, more regal in the presence of the Royal Court, it was doubtful that others had thought the same. Alas, it did not matter any longer as her task had become complete. She offered both the Master Jedi and his Captain adjunct a courteous smile, before ordering their armed escort to open the immaculate doors to permit their guests entry.
As the doors began to part, a small blip of static filled her ear as the subdermal communications implant fizzled live. In an all too familiar tone, her superior had informed Karasi of a change of plans. The Jedi and his compatriot were not to meet with the Ereneda in her throne room, for a more private session should these important matters require a more delicate hand, but instead within the Royal Court itself. That was an interesting development, she had thought as the link had faded. Perhaps it was a political move by the Chume’da to have this Jedi speak his piece before the Assembly? The Handmaiden couldn’t be sure, and to be perfectly honest, she didn’t think the change in scenery would’ve mattered to the Jedi. “It has been a pleasure, but I’m afraid you’re on your own from here on in. Once your business is complete, and should you desire to return to your ship, I will either guide you myself, or I can assign you an escort of Guardsmen to ensure an expedient departure. Now, the Queen Mother and her Chume’da await you within.”~ * ~ * ~ * ~ The Royal Court was an amphitheatre wrought of faded marble and polished iron. It’s rounded walls were adorned in a myriad of colourful pennants, each bearing the symbols belonging to all sixty-three systems within the Hapes Cluster. Though much of the grandeur had begun to wane in the previous decade, it was still a sight to entice the senses with a stunning array of colour. As if in direct opposition to the walls that gave the Senate form, the floor had become something muted and dull. It wasn’t the creamy marble that had filled the numerous halls of the Palace but instead shifted towards a darker - almost basalt hue. Sitting upon a raised dais of lustrous ivory, opposite of the now opened entranceway, were five occupied thrones with the one at the centre built taller than those that surrounded it. Rooted within the stone embrace of the middle most sovereign seat, was an elderly woman clad in the finest of royal livery. Like the faded silver locks sewn into her venerable hide, her elegant gown of white silk gave the woman an appearance of vitality that had been traded so long ago for the wisdom of a life spent steeped in the political spheres. Adorned upon her mottled brow, was the Crown of the Mists, a circlet of divine provenance that was encrusted with a count of sixty-three rainbow gems - something that alone was worth the price of more than several solar systems combined. It glittered unnaturally in the chambers luminous atmosphere, as she had torn her gaze from the filled pews around her and focused upon the two men that had entered.“Welcome to my Court, Master Jedi Iorek, and Captain Marris.” Amelie Ka Djo, the Queen Mother, had said. Her tone was haggard as befitting a woman of her age, but to the well trained ear, one could tell such an inflection in her voice was enforced. Such were the machinations of a regal figure, to play the old wizened hag in the face of an unknown entity, whom may think to take advantage of her station due to the fact she was in the twilight years of her life. “You may approach the dais and present the matter you wish to discuss.”Shifting silently in her throne to the right of her sister, Araneya Ka Djo eyed the two strangers with an almost vague interest. The fact that she was forced to attend this event was grating on her nerves, as the woman believed her time was better spent elsewhere doing other things. There was an entire sector of space that needed to be governed, and yet here she was sitting like an ornament upon a Life Day tree, wistfully staring in the direction of the two men. How droll. Araneya knew what these two had come for and had even broached the topic with the Queen Mother several times since the broadcast was made. Yet, she was left wondering why such a passionless display of power had to be made when everyone within that room already knew the answer to the coming question. As the two men had taken several steps from the antechamber, the Chume’da turned her gaze towards the man sitting in the throne at her side. He was clad in his ultrachrome warplate today and struck an impressive - if not menacing - figure with the life-like qualities of the suit he wore. Each plate had been forged in the likeness of the man, accentuating every detail of the naked flesh that laid beneath. He was a God made manifest, she thought to herself as her eyes scoured his silver and emerald-clad form. A sliver of ecstasy then wormed its way into her thoughts as she thought of the power this man had given her, and of the leverage that came with him. Power was an attractive quality, and this man exuded it with every waking breath.
Oh, what fun it would be to torture her newly bonded husband with inappropriate thoughts during a conclave of utmost importance.
Ever since he had heard the word of the destruction of the tombs of dead gods upon the surface of Korriban, Belial had found himself laughing hysterically in his most private moments. The cinnamon dusted world had long been forgotten by the Sith that once hailed from its rolling dunes, and later by those that had claimed that long dead species name for themselves. There was nothing there but the echoes of ghosts whose voices could not be heard, and the wailing gait of tortured souls bound to guard the entrances of their fallen masters. If this man had returned from that world unharmed, it was because the Sith spirits believed that there was a plan in motion for this man. He was touched by destiny to do a great many things, and the myriad paths of the future had revealed just what could become of this sole Jedi. In the most favourable skein, the Dark Lord had seen this man at the head of an armada of silvered punch daggers in the skies above a world of rolling forests. He stood upon the bridge of a vessel that belonged to another but crewed by men that shared his belief. The Jedi’s gnarled lips were peeled in churlish delight, as his hand pointed to the planet spinning slowly below. Emerald beams of light thundered from the guns of hundreds of vessels at the command of this one man, burning the surface of the forest shrouded system. It would be a slow death, one that would take ages to come to fruition, but in this man’s eyes - he saw it as an act of mercy, if not justice for all the wrongs inflicted by the Lords of that forested realm. Belial couldn’t say if that was true, as, with the ever changing tides of the future, prescience was unreliable even in the best of circumstances.
When he had borne witness to the Jedi and his adjunct in the flesh, his seared lips curled into a gratified smile behind the mask of glimmering steel. He was even more impressive than his broadcast had suggested! Such barely constrained irritation. Such glaring potential for misguided deeds. If only he could have revealed his true nature to this man, what fun they would have together. Lightsaber clashing against a lightsaber. Two differing ideologies coming to life in every step, and every thrust. It would be something to remember before Belial had struck the man down and cast his broken body from the spires of the Palace. However, as his plans had yet to bear any fruit, in regards to the stubborn demeanour of the haggard bitch sitting beside his puppet of a wife, acting on his desires would go against everything he had been working towards all these weeks. Instead, as the Dark Lord knew that this man would eventually come to the homeworld of the Hapans one day, Belial simply resided within his manufactured light sided aura. He made no attempts to probe the Jedi’s mind before him, nor did he wish to skim the surface of his mind for any errant thoughts. It would’ve been un-Jedi-like of him to intrude into a place that was as unwelcoming as the Hapans had been when he first broke into their Cluster.
Instead, he simply sat within his throne and eyed the two approaching men with indifference. If he played the part of a former Jedi Knight and stuck to the story he had spun, then all would be well. And if things had turned sour, it was unlikely that the Jedi would find himself any allies within the Royal Court. He was an outsider to them and had little sway with any members of the senate. An unfitting end for such a promising individual, the Dark Lord had thought to himself behind the guarded barriers of his disciplined mind, I only hope it does not come to such wasteful end.
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 21, 2015 14:13:04 GMT -8
The captain was taken aback by the unending splendor of the world. There was beauty in everything he saw, and it hadn't stopped enthralling him ever since he stepped off of the corvette. Only years of military service kept him on task and in the moment, and even then Captain Marris was having trouble maintaining himself. The halls were resplendent. The armor of the seated individual was brilliantly crafted. Even the Queen Mother herself - possibly old enough to be Master Iorek's grandmother - had a refined and austere quality to her that many women Marris had known simply could never even comprehend, much less wear. The pair came to a stop at the edge of the dais, and both offered low, courteous bows before the Zabrak drew back his hood.
"Ereneda," Master Iorek said, his voice every bit as gruff and unforgiving as his face, "thank you for meeting me. In the interest of your valuable time, I'll try to keep this brief."
The Jedi spoke like he gargled a cup of lava every morning before chasing it down with a breakfast consisting of contempt, attitude, and bile. His face held not only age, but mileage; the face of a man that had spent his time well, traveling as far as the galaxy would let him and fighting it tooth and nail for those places the galaxy wouldn't. Scars of varying length and shape were almost lost in the wrinkles of his face. Horns formed a roughly-even crown around his head, save for the first one left of center, broken and jagged in comparison to its smooth and rounded companions. Age, experience, and toil had taken their toll on the Zabrak, whose temperament was short and his skin akin to leather. But his jaded eyes still held the fire of youth and a determination that none of the troubles that came with a century of being a Jedi Guardian could touch.
A keen eye would notice they held something far different as well. Something almost sinister. Something hungry.
"I come before you today to ask for your help in a matter that would serve your interest greatly. As we speak, the Sith are stagnant, holed up in their fortresses and their castles like banthas avoiding the gaze and fury of a krayt dragon. They've never been so cowardly..." Rutil said before pausing, his diplomatic facade beginning to crack, "...or vulnerable.
"Their fleets maintain their positions above their home bases, never leaving their systems. Their soldiers never see action. Their weapons go unused. And their Lords? Content to lounge about doing little more than gloat over their empty achievements and their hapless lives, more pretending to be Sith than living and earning the title. Complacency has conquered them, and at this point, all they need is someone to pull the trigger, and their reigns could be over in the space of a week."
Despite his attempts to keep a level tone, Rutil's voice held an undercurrent of passion. His pitch said it would benefit Hapes - and he would eventually get to that point - but there was no mistake that he had a stake in the campaign he was proposing, and a large one at that. The Jedi was invested in the Hapan Consortium's well-being, but only as an ancillary effect; an afterthought. But then, no diplomat was ever talking unless they saw something that would benefit them.
"Our campaign has already begun. The Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban - the ancient homeworld of our mutual enemy - has recently been reduced to boulders and ash. Not a single trace of their organizations remains on the planet. I believe that we have a genuine chance at taking the initiative and ridding the galaxy of the Sith for good. But our forces cannot do it alone. One of my fellow Jedi is set to meet with the leaders of the Republic. And I am here to parley with you, Ereneda, to ask for your fleet.
"Hapan Battle Dragons are among the best in the galaxy at what they do. And for the next step in our plan, I can think of no ships better suited to the coming task."
Rutil stopped speaking and sharply rose his gnarled and leathery hand. Behind him, Captain Marris pulled a holoprojector from his breast pocket and activated it. The Jedi was backlit by a large blue sphere of light; a planet covered in foliage and trees of unimaginable height, and one of the Sith's most infamous fortress worlds.
"Ereneda," Rutil said, the fire in his eyes reaching his voice at last, "with your help, I believe that Kashyyyk will finally fall."
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Darth Belial
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"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Aug 21, 2015 19:01:08 GMT -8
What the Jedi had proposed, was something that the Queen Mother had dreamed of since she was a suckling babe. Her mother had often told her tales of these so-called Sith, and what they had done to the Cluster - in both body and spirit. Worlds were conquered, simply to sate the bloodlust coiling throughout their mortal forms. The ashes of dead civilizations were mocked by their superiors, for not putting up much of a fight or simply being too weak to defend themselves in the face of such ‘divine’ onslaught. The people suffered greatly during those dark days, and the Ereneda’s mother even more so. She was publically humiliated by the leader of this dark brotherhood and violated before the Royal Court. Yet, she did not break as the fledgling Sith Lord had planned. She had found her strength, welling deep within her belly, and rose up against her tyrannical overlords.
Like the women left behind by the Lorrell Raiders of ages past, she fought against insurmountable odds in order to restore what was rightfully hers, and even though her people were outmatched, they plunged the Cluster into a bloody civil war. Sister fought against sister, as it was later found out, that this brotherhood’s corruption ran deep into the hearts of many of her subjects. Men, akin to gods, massacred hundreds of her soldiers in recompense for slaying one of their ascended number. It was an unfair hill she had forced her people to climb, in order to reach the lofty goal of freedom. However, their plight was not unknown to the galaxy. Brave Jedi Knights, from Corellia, Anobis, and Arkania, had saddled forth into the fray. With blades of dazzling emerald and astonishing sapphire, they led the loyalist charge into the breach and helped her mother cast down these false idols.
When their corpses were watered with oceans of blood, the Sith had been forcibly removed from the sector. None had survived, but the memory of their atrocities still lingered in the minds of those that lived through the nightmare. So, when Revenge could be theirs at last, the Queen Mother knew that she could not say no. It would dishonour the memory of her genesire if she had, and it would cement her legacy upon this throne as a worthy heir to her Mother’s crown if she said yes. So, when the hololithic projection of the lush world of Kashyyyk materialized before her, the Ereneda had to pull her wits together in order to keep herself somewhat measured and collected. She had waited for a moment, not to gather her words, but to make it seem like her venerable mind had sought to grasp at fraying threads in order to assemble some form of coherency. When sufficient enough time had passed, the Queen Mother achingly leaned forward in her throne and offered a warm smile to the aged Master Jedi.
“You flatter us with your words, Master Jedi, and flattery will get you somewhere in this court. I can see that many of my world’s delegates are eager to send their Battle Dragons into this campaign. Perhaps if you butter them up too, they might gift you more than a single ship, eh?” She chuckled then, the sound was dry and raspy as if a desert storm raged within her aging vocal chords. “You were right to come to us, Master Iorek. The wounds inflicted by the Sith, so many years ago, are still fresh in the minds our of most dedicated veterans. While I am sure that your Order’s tenets forbid you from chasing after these complacent bastards in the name of revenge, you will have to forgive us if we decide to assist you by pursuing this in the name of vengeance.”
The Ereneda’s lips curled into a weathered smile as she tilted her head towards her sister. Ever since her mother had given birth to this little shit in the twilight years of her life, Amelie had always felt a deep seeded hatred for the youthful sibling. When her own beauty began to fade, the envious sin of jealousy began to take root in the soil tended by hateful hands. Oh, how she wished to rob her sister of everything that she had taken from the mother. Perhaps, if she had gone against the wishes of her populace by routing their favour onto this campaign, she might have a chance to eliminate the bitch before she could act. Hapan Politics. You win, or you die screaming beside your loved ones.
“What say you, Chume’da.” The honourific was spoken with a barely concealed dagger of venom, plunging right into the heart of the matter without any diplomatic niceties to disguise it from their honoured guest. “Should we send our forces into Hell’s gaping mouth to stab at thee?”
Araneya knew of the hatred that bonded the two sisters together in the deadly game of political tug-of-war, and she was sure that others who played along knew of it as well. Yet, she was mildly surprised when the Queen Mother had directed the room’s attention onto her. Yes, she was the heir apparent to her sister’s station and their mother’s legacy, but in matters such as this - it was usually up to the Queen Mother herself to make the decision. Was it because she had forced her Husband to make a public appearance by her side that caused that haggard woman to follow through with this display? Who could say with any certainty but the bitch queen herself?
“No, beloved sister. I don’t think it would be wise to send our fighting women and men into battle. The Sith that slaughtered our people all those years ago were slain to a man by mother, and the Jedi that aided us. Our grudge of vengeance has been sated, and those that have fought in that bloody Civil War, are either dead and or dying.” She refrained from mentioning her sister’s stance, knowing that it would undermine her position and the point she desired to make. These Sith that this man had begun a campaign against, have done nothing to the Hapan people. The only thing that tied them to those that came before was the Order that bound them all together.
Yes, they were evil beyond a doubt, but it seemed pointless to waste lives and material in a pointless struggle against a foe that didn’t bother to fight back.
That’s where Belial chimed in.
“If you would forgive my brazen tongue, Ereneda.” His tone was cold and mechanical, as his body had yet to fully heal from his ordeal in the Transitory Mists. “While it would be favourable to side with my beloved Chume’da, I believe that it would be in your people’s best interests to retaliate against the Sith Order. While it is true that those who’ve perpetrated the attacks on your foremothers are dead, their legacy still lives on in those they have left behind. Who is to say that the Sith aren’t recouping their losses, slowly gathering enough might so that when they assault these very walls once more, none shall stand before them.” He knew that was a stretch, but considering the mindset of the two women beside him, Belial knew that his train of thought would at least garner some traction with the Queen Mother. “Perhaps, we should ask for volunteer worlds from the Royal Court. A compromise between two bridgeheads, so that those systems who still feel the lingering sores left behind by the Sith, can come to some form of closure.”
The Queen Mother chuckled once more as her gaze turned towards the armoured titan sitting beside her sister’s side. “Wise words, Master Varro. For a man encased in metal, it is good to see you still have a heart.” Turning back to stare into the depthless wells of the aged Iridonian’s eyes, Amelie watched the man’s reactions with some interest. She knew that he was passionate about the subject, as most men with military backgrounds were, but there was something else hiding behind his gaze. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but it felt as if there was something altogether more malicious festering behind those eyes. Putting that thought from her mind, she let her regal smile return to her lips. “Yes, wise words indeed. Those systems that wish to pool their forces together for this campaign may do so. In addition, two regiments of our Royal Space Marines shall accompany the task force on its mission, along with a dozen of my most trusted Chume’doro. These women will act as my eyes and ears, to ensure that our goal of vengeance is met.”
As the Queen Mother fell silent, Belial once again saw fit to speak his mind.
“While our forces are engaged in this campaign, I believe it would be wise to assist the natives of that world in their reconstruction efforts. Long have the Wookiees languished under their dark masters. Perhaps once we have routed the Sith from that world, we should do the right thing and help them get back on their feet.”
Narrowing her eyes and snapping her gaze to look at the silver plated titan, the Queen Mother barely suppressed a venom forked tongue spitting forth from her lips.
“Are you saying that you volunteer to take command of this battlegroup, then?”
Ignoring the Old hag’s barbed reaction to his calculated outburst, Belial tilted his silvered masque towards the Queen Mother and rose from his basalt throne in one smooth motion. He stepped down the dais, letting the thundering echo of his gait echo through the chamber, and kneeled before his sovereign.
“I guess you could say that I am, Ereneda. I will take command of the armada, and ensure thy will be done.”
Standing tall once more, after his moment of supplication, he craned his eyes towards the Jedi Knight beside and beneath him.
“By your leave, Master Jedi.”
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The Shepherd
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Posts: 269
Affiliation: Yavin IV Praxeum
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 21, 2015 23:28:28 GMT -8
Rutil offered only a quick nod to the Ereneda's knight in shining armor. Whoever this man was, he knew the Hapan military far better than Rutil did, their capabilities as well as their crew. The Hapans would respond far better to their armored commander than a stranger. Morale would be better. Soldiers would be more willing. And considering the old Jedi was planning to ask those under his command to do some truly heinous things in the name of peace and sanity, morale and willingness were paramount traits to have in soldiers. And if the mission went sideways, or the Council questioned what had been done, the blame could be placed squarely on the Hapan man's shoulders. It was not just tactically advantageous to let him lead his battle group; it had built-in deniability.
But Master Varro's words - while true - held a glaring flaw in their logic.
"Forgive me, Ereneda," Rutil spoke, his words holding a genuine - if muted - sadness, "but I fear the Wookiees of Kashyyyk are too far gone to be helped. By all accounts, the general populace of Kashyyyk have embraced their Sith rulers. Their indoctrination is complete. Staying to help rebuild their world while they're still enthralled by the Dark Side of the Force will only endanger those we send to aid them."
So far as he knew, Rutil had told the truth. But he kept the most important part - that by the time they were done, relocation would be far easier than rebuilding - to himself. While he was not without merit, the Jedi was a beggar in the court of Hapes, and beggars simply could not be choosers. Nor could beggars compromise what they had already been granted by openly decrying one of their new lieutenants' ideas. Saying the Wookiees might be beyond helping sounded like honest, respectful information. Saying he fully intended to raze Kashyyyk to the ground and deal with the survivors was simply being critical. And as Rutil more than anybody knew, being critical was something the old Jedi was very quick to be.
Besides, such things could be addressed at the final briefing of the mission, when all of the available firepower had been pooled together. And so far as available firepower went, Rutil noted to himself, they were still far short of their goal even with the help of the Hapans.
"Forgive us our brevity, madam," Rutil continued, "but Captain Marris and I must avail ourselves. As you must know, Kashyyyk has never been an easy engagement, and we will need far more firepower to achieve our goal. If you have any need or request of me, please let me know now."
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Darth Belial
Member
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Aug 22, 2015 19:25:34 GMT -8
So, Belial had thought, This was how the game would be played. While he would never dare peer into the mind of this man, the Dark Lord had a feeling that there was something lurking behind his words, something that would make his more insidious nature squeal with joy. Could it be, that this man sought to play upon the Queen Mother’s past, manipulating her desires for revenge just enough to spur forth a diplomatic atrocity? If that was his intentions, they would find little purchase with the Dark Lord himself commanding the expeditionary flotilla. Yet, he felt that it was something more subtle than that, like it was a secondary option should things get out of hand. Though Belial cared little for the fate of Kashyyyk’s natives, it would go against everything he had been building to let them die without trying to save them first. In hindsight, one could say that such a mindset was more suited to a Jedi, but as this Rutil had revealed mere moments ago, not all of those touched by the Force were stereotypically aligned with the titles they bore.
Besides, a dead Wookiee was useless in comparison to one still breathing, and simple minded Sith indoctrination techniques were child's play - thus easily broken with a glimmering ray of false hope.
“I speak for the Queen Mother on this matter, and our involvement in your Campaign ends when the Sith lording over Kashyyyk has fallen. Your words of caution will be taken into consideration, however, what we do after the hostilities have ceased is none of your concern.”
Though his blackened heart had meant for these words to be hollow, his tongue had shaped them into something entirely different. Even with the enforced monotony plaguing his voice, the reforged intent behind these words burst forth with an almost uncharacteristic compassion lacing each and every syllable.
“The Hapans had suffered much in the days before our time, it seems only right that their children have a chance to give the Wookiees of Kashyyyk a chance to restore what was rightfully theirs. Consider the thought naive if you wish, but these are sentimental women and mothers in their own right, and I am sure they will take every precaution in safeguarding the populace whilst we operate with your agents on the ground. If, as you say, the Natives are too far gone, we will pacify them humanely - so that your Brothers and Sisters in the Order may take over to cure the malady affecting their misguided minds.”
Amelie chuckled then, as Master Varro had finished. The man was attentive and had picked up on her gut feeling. Impressive. Though in truth Belial had known of the darkness festering within this man’s heart, every since he had felt the psychic backlash of the events that had transpired on Korriban. Yes, it was over millions of light years away, but the Force bound all things together, and what affected the mortal realm, almost always played out in kind beyond the relativistic curtain of understanding.
“My brother by marriage has a bold tongue, but he is correct. This is your campaign, Master Iorek, and my support is lent only as a supplementary force to whatever has flocked to your banner. You may leave now if you wish, as I’m sure you have more allies to gather, or if you desire, please speak with my Handmaiden so that we may appropriate some quarters for the two of you.”
Regardless of the outcome, she waved a dismissive hand to the Jedi and his near silent military adjunct, signalling them that their audience had come to an end. With her sister’s wretched Husband taking command of the task force, her attention could be focused solely upon the matters directly concerning the welfare of the Cluster, and should the man fail in the line of duty, a Plan B to avoid the political ramifications.
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The Shepherd
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Posts: 269
Affiliation: Yavin IV Praxeum
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 22, 2015 20:24:17 GMT -8
Rutil offered a short bow, holding his tongue. He had misunderstood their intentions - to assist the Wookiees after the attack, rather than before - the mistake of a rookie diplomat. While veiled with politeness, the Hapans all made it clear that their help was not unconditional, and in the interest of maintaining the agreement that had just been made, the old Jedi refrained from commenting further.
"Thank you, Ereneda," Rutil said before drawing his hood up and gliding on his heel to turn away, "we'll be in touch."
It was just as well; the plans would have to be re-drawn to account for rescue efforts, other forces entering the fray, and the comparative lack of help the Hapans had provided. That they had agreed to assist at all was more than Rutil had expected of them, but without solid numbers from the Ereneda, the Zabrak was unsure just how invested they truly were. He had come for ships and gotten more foot soldiers. He had needed bombs, and he was leaving with bodyguards. And while the Ereneda was surely telling the truth - that the daughters of the Hapes Consortium would gladly lend their vessels to the battle - that was something he was leaving to chance. And when the stakes were as high as they were, leaving things to chance didn't sit right with Rutil at all. Further complicating things was this Master Varro. Rutil wasn't sure what to make of him. There was a coldness to him, almost as cold as the ultrachrome that encased his body. It was off-putting. Not necessarily dark, but something about him was definitely amiss.
"Master Iorek," Captain Marris finally said as their escorts formed up around them to return them to their ship, "you had said something about shore leave?"
"I did. And you heard what they said. Do you truly feel so welcome here as to remain?"
"It's not that, Master Jedi, truly it isn't. But you're tired. The men are exhausted. And I shudder to think about those flying the Skiprays."
The group walked for several moments in silence. The Hapan guards said nothing, not bothering to speak to the outsiders. The military officer said nothing, praying that the hard-charging Zabrak would finally relent. The Jedi said nothing, musing over the captain's unspoken request. Finally, as they were approaching the beautiful shuttlecraft, the Jedi's harsh voice once again scratched the eardrums of all those in earshot.
"You're right, Captain Marris. You and your crew have all earned some much-needed rest. I will leave the running of the Spearhead to you for the time being; do with her as you see fit until you feel we are ready to continue."
Captain Marris nodded and thanked the Jedi before heading up the shuttlecraft's ramp, taking one last look at the gorgeous Hapan palace.
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Darth Belial
Member
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Aug 28, 2015 20:12:35 GMT -8
A muted silence befell the royal court as the Zabraki Jedi said his final words. His saffron-hued cloak danced wistfully in the air as he turned about and vanished beyond the parting doors, leaving Belial with a sour taste in his mouth. While it was true that this man had absorbed much of the Dark Lord’s thoughts, recent events aside, the warrior monk was nothing more than a passing fancy in the grand scheme of things. A footnote to be left to the pages of history, and forgotten in the tidal changes to come. Had he been alone after the Jedi had left, Belial would’ve found himself laughing hysterically.
There was something in the man’s eye, other than the festering darkness within his rotting soul, that had caught Belial’s attention. He noticed that the man had looked at him, as if he were a cybernetic being - cold, heartless, and encased within a metallic shell. Well, considering the truth of the matter at hand, he couldn’t say that he was all that surprised. He was shocked, on the other hand, of how well his armour had performed under the expedient conditions set by the unforeseen arrival of their departing guest. It had reigned in his powers and assisted the sorcerer within his breast in erecting a falsed aura that had dissuaded the rising ire of the Sentinel.
All in all, his experiment had been a resounding success.
“Speak on my behalf like that again without my permission, Master Varro, and I shall forget that you are my brother by marriage.”
It was with those envenomed words that the Dark Lord snapped back into reality and gazed at the wretched woman enthroned upon the dais. Behind the veil of his masque, his eyes had narrowed out of spiteful hate. One day, when your life hangs by a string, I will be the one standing there holding the knife.
“By your will, my Queen.”
His words were spoken through gritted teeth, and Amelie could see that her words had struck a chord within her newly bonded brother. Oh, how much fun it will be to torment this man, she had thought back then. Shame the truth would be the opposite in the days to come.
“However, I believe it was the correct course of action. When we spoke with that man, I could see that there was something dark festering within his heart, and I shall not allow him to spend Hapan lives like coin at a brothel. While it is true I want vengeance against the Sith for what they did to my mother and the people, it’s not worth what I cherish the most.”
Belial bowed curtly, before returning to his own throne’s embrace. There was nothing more he could say to the Old crone, for if he had they would’ve been speaking in circles for hours on end about too similar subjects.
“I grow tired,” The Queen Mother had said, after weakly bobbing her venerable head for several long moments. With a dismissive wave of her hand, the congregation roused themselves from their seats and followed in the footsteps of the Jedi Knight mere minutes before leaving only those within their thrones behind. “While my sister and I deal with the more local concerns, I entrust this task to you, Master Varro. Consider it a rare honour for a man such as yourself. Now, I must allay these weary bones with a restful nights sleep. Farewell, brother, and I look forward to seeing you in the morning Sister. We have much to discuss.” And with those words, the Ereneda roused herself from her throne and with the assistance of her two handmaidens, hobbled out of the room.
Now alone with his wife, Belial found his idle mind wandering to various subjects of note. Many of which involved taking his wife from her throne, and dancing to an unheard tune. However, such thoughts were unbecoming of a man in his station. He needed to keep his composure, at least while he was on the floor of governance, where who knows what could be watching their every move.
“Leaving me again, my love?”
Araneya’s words were always dripping with honey whenever she spoke. She believed that it drew her husband into a compliant state, one where she could influence his state of mind so that she could achieve her goals. Too bad Belial was the one pulling the strings in this relationship, however, he did have to give the woman credit - she was ever so good at trying.
“I am.” He leaned in close, letting the reflection of his spouse grow larger upon the shimmering surface of his armour. “Though not for much-needed space as you may be thinking. I merely wish to ensure our place at your sister's side, so that she learns to trust us, rather than keep us at an arm's length. What better way to do so, than see the villains of her past driven before the might of the Consortium?”
After a moment of contemplation, Araneya nodded in agreement.
“Yes, that was wise of you, dear heart.” She turned to lock her eyes with the Dark Lords, yet her gaze wormed it’s way down to his resting arm instead. “It… It saddens me that you’re leaving so soon after our wedding night. I was looking forward to our Honeymoon, away from this blighted game of thrones, where we could finally take the first steps into a whole new realm of possibility.” Her hand lifted from the armrest of her throne and fell still atop the chilled surface of her husband’s gauntlet. “A place where you no longer have to hide your true self, and where the both of us can simply be ourselves.”
Belial smiled. She knew that he wasn’t a Jedi as he claimed to be, or at least that he was no longer of the Order. That much was made apparent when he agreed to marry her. However, as they spent more and more time together, she began to notice things about him that seemed off. For example, she had caught him whilst he was rebuilding his ravaged lightsaber. She had seen many HoloVids from the old Jedi archives established within the cluster some time ago, but never had she seen something so… upsetting before in her life. When Jedi forge their weapons, it was with tranquil thoughts and a serene heart - made manifest by their manipulation of the force. It creates a blade that resonates with the one who wields it. They consider it not only an extension of their arm but of their personality too. Araneya had understood that much, but when her eyes caught the scarred and pitted flesh lording over a table of scavenged parts, the air about him seemed to spoil before her very eyes. She couldn’t put the feeling into words, but her mind would forever more remember the stench of hoarfrost and smouldering ozone.
“When I am around you, my love. I am always myself.” He was lying, but such deception came naturally to the Dark Lord. “Never the less, after these mad dogs are put down and Kashyyyk is freed, I shall take you somewhere beautiful. Perhaps the water world of Dac, where we could spend our days meandering through the streets, and spend our nights watching the sunsets just over the horizon.”
She let loose a groan that reeked of pleasure. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”
Belial smiled once more. Even though she would never see his lips parting to reveal the pearl white teeth beneath, he had adjusted his mannerisms to account for that. Instead, his head tilted to the side, and she noted the ever so subtle movement of his jawline.
“Wonderful. Once I return, we shall head for the Outer Rim. Until then I have a war party to gather and a planet to liberate.”
Like those that had left before him, the Dark Lord roused himself from his throne and slowly stalked through the memories of the past. His metal clad boots kissed the senate floor with a resounding sound of thunder, followed swiftly thereafter by the peel of lightning echoing through the now empty chamber.
Unseen to the Sith’s eyes, Araneya stood from her throne and held her hands before her, as if she was the bride once more.
“Come back to me, Varro. Swear it, or by the Goddess I will find-”
Before she could finish, Belial swiveled his head about and gazed at his blushing bride. He did not waste time with flattery, nor did he wish to fill her head with thoughts of his demise. Both would simply prove worthless in the end. He could never truly die, and why bother flatter the woman he loved when so much effort could be placed into showing her his affections instead. Actions did, more often than not, speak louder than words.
“I promise.”
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2017 10:23:06 GMT -8
The shuttle glided down through the atmosphere, with the Fighter escort in tow. Victor looked out one of the observation windows to watch as they passed over the Palace, before setting down on one of the landing pads reserved for official guests. Sahra was the first to disembark, followed by Victor himself and the guard escort. Angel then moved up and stood at the Senator's side. Here, the matriarchy ruled. Men were considered and viewed as a lower caste, not fit for command. Victor knew he would have to be careful, lest they offend their hosts and lose a new ally
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Post by Hendrander Zansta on Oct 23, 2017 10:51:02 GMT -8
A group of Hapan Guards came to meet the Galactic Alliance delegation.
"Welcome to Hapes. The Queen Mother has been expecting you. Please, follow us."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 30, 2017 10:34:17 GMT -8
Sahra gave a bow of greeting to the Hapan Guards "Thank you..." She then lead the delegation as it followed the Hapan Guards through the palace to the Queen Mother
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Post by Marcus Starmane [RETIRED] on Jan 9, 2018 9:04:07 GMT -8
The discussions between Sahra and the Queen Mother lasted several hours. Much of the start of which Sahra spent extolling the virtues of the Galactic Alliance. Explaining that it stood to be different than the Republic of old. With agreement reached on such points, the two women moved to the business of how the Hapans would join the Galactic Alliance. Starting with trade agreements, access to their shipyards and routes through the Transitory Mists, and figuring out who would represent them in the Senate. Then there was the issue of the composition of forces that would be stationed on Hapes. Given their Matriarchy, it was agreed that the forces would consist largely of female officers and soldiers.
By the end of it all, the hour was late. But the alliance between the two worlds had been struck. All that remained, was for Sahra to get the paperwork officially drawn up and have the Queen Mother sign it the following day
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Post by Marcus Starmane [RETIRED] on Feb 5, 2018 13:33:46 GMT -8
The sun rose over Ta'a Chume'dan, lighting up the Throne Room of the Fountain Palace and the crowd of onlookers. Press from Hapes and the Galactic Alliance had been set up along the length of the room, with the most important outlets getting front row positioning. Behind them, was arrayed a mix of Hapan citizens and nobility. All of them gathered to watch as the Queen Mother sat upon the high back throne that had been set at the foot of the steps to her actual throne. While seated opposite her, was Senator Starmane. Between the pair, sat the formal induction document bringing Hapes into the Galactic Alliance.
As was customary, the Queen Mother rose from her seat and gave an impassioned speech about the greatness of the Hapes Consortium and the honour she felt in joining the Galactic Alliance. Sahra then rose from her seat, decrying the evils of the First Order and thanking the Hapans for joining the fight against such tyranny. With their speeches made, the pair retook their seats and signed he document. Officiating the agreement between the two sides. Copies would be made of the signed document. One of which would remain on Hapes. Another to go to the Senate. And another to reside in the archives.
By mid afternoon, the throne room had been cleared out. Leaving the Queen Mother and her retinue alone with Sahra, Victor, the Knight twins and the contingent of Galactic Alliance troopers
It was an honour to have been hosted by your Grace...
Sahra said as she gave a short bow. The Queen Mother raising her hand to silence such a comment
We each have a duty to protect our people, especially from the tyranny that men seek to impose upon us. This... Emperor is just the latest in a long line of men who believe it is their right to rule the galaxy... He will find himself sorely mistaken...
Certainly... Something I hope this new alliance brings us closer towards...
Sahra was interrupted, as one of the guards comm links sounded loudly. Alerting her to a message from the security command center...
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Post by Prince Lassiter on Apr 24, 2019 20:11:59 GMT -8
Having arrived at the Palace ahead of the incoming guests, Lassiter stood off to the side, in front of his mother's Throne. Standing at ease, the Navy Commander would be present for the proceedings due necessity more than anything else. His mother, Emelie Ka, was the ruling monarch over the Consortium after all. Her attendance for proceedings such as this, required her full attention. By her word, these people could become their allies, or their enemies. Watching the entrance of the throne room, Lassiter continued to wait for the arrival of their guests.
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