Faction Break of Dawn || Viceroyalty [ CIS ]

[Baroness Magrath]

S P E A K​

​

NABOO - GOLBAH HILL​

CHAMBERS OF THE VICEROYALTY​

​

It took her a moment to compose herself once the flood of immense presence had washed over her; breaths no longer labored as she slowly acclimatized herself to the sheer force of the individual that had made themselves known. It was clear that this Vicelord, the rightful leader of the Confederacy was making it known that he had returned and was more than ready to reclaim a position that - at the very least in her mind - was his rightfully, to begin with. The cackling giggling of the representative of Ra'Katha could just as easily be ignored and dismissed out of hand, though it was the growing fear within the Chambers that caught her attention. The woman smiled slightly as she rose to her feet, black trusses dancing upon her shoulders and down her back as she carefully moved - whilst nimble fingers pressed delicately upon the controls of the pod which would slowly bring it forward. The Viceroy of Sedesia had been more than happy to observe, though it seemed that there was a need for her to speak.​

​

Bringing the pod forward, she carefully cleared her throat for a moment. Yellow eyes carefully fell upon the Vicelord, before shifting their focus to the other Viceroys that had already begun their opulent speeches about treason, secession, and the failures that the Confederacy had recently experienced. Of course, all of these things could be traced back to a single moment, a single aspect of galactic importance, the fall of the Sith Empire. It was then, once she had gathered her thoughts and steadied herself and her mind, that she finally spoke.​

​

"Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings with it a thousand deaths before obliteration. It is that which leads into anger; that which begets hate and suffering in succession. It is Fear that I see in this very chamber, and it was fear that has led the Confederacy to this point. Vicelord Daegon Corvinus and Viceroy Bastille Rommer allowed that very fear to sway their opinions and their beliefs to oust Vicelord Darth Metus from his position at the fall of the Sith Empire. It was this fear that washed over the people of the Confederacy and saw them swayed to turn against an individual merely because he held to the beliefs of an ancient religion that had been used to subjugate a swath of the Galaxy.​

​

It was that very same Fear that saw the Vicelord Corvinus order a strike against the Brotherhood of the Maw, leading to the deaths of countless above Rhand - all the while the greatest threat to the Confederacy continued to ever slowly consume its ways through system after system towards our very borders. We struck against those that were far from us when the Bryn'adul were at our very doorstep merely because of Fear of the Sith and their beliefs. And now, when we must come together behind a singular individual, a singular goal, that Fear once more begins to creep into the minds of those within this chamber.​

​

The Representative of Ra'Katha speaks of secession, knowing full well that under the Charter of the Confederacy that membership within this body is permanent. The Representative of Yesmireen seeks to clad ourselves in red-tape in a time when what we need is direct action. The people of Sedesia, my people, are a simple people. We merely desire to tend to our farms, ranches, and plantations - yet, there is something that we understand. Loyalty, and it is not loyalty to any one individual, it is loyalty to the Confederacy as a whole. If we continue to allow fear to dictate our actions and continue to do so, then the Confederacy shall not continue to exist as it is or was, rather it shall become a shell of what it once had been.​

​

Too many chefs ruin the dish; and from where I stand now, the Confederacy has too many hands in the pot. If we must proceed forward, we must find a means to do so that will ensure the continuation of the Confederacy first and foremost. I agree with the Representative of Yesmireen on one point, we must hold an emergency session, though it should not be to vote on the establishment of a new Vicelord and their Administration; rather, it should focus on the immediate restructure and reorganization of this very body, the Viceroyalty itself for the betterment of the Confederacy.​

​

I welcome Vicelord Verd back to the fold; however it is clear, it was the fear that had taken root within the Viceroyalty that is to blame, not any one individual claiming the mantle of Vicelord."​

​

The Baroness took a moment to permit her attention to slowly sweep over the other Viceroys before they settled upon the Vicelord once more. Her breathing again labored, though she did her best to not allow others to see what the presence of the dark side that she felt was doing to herself. With a quiet nod, she carefully pressed the controls on her pod, bringing it back to where it had first resided. She was sure that she had not received or made any new friends, though that was not her purpose here. She was sent by the people of Sedesia to see to their needs and ensure that the Confederacy would still exist to fulfill those needs.​

​

It had become very clear and apparent that in order to ensure that would remain so, then it was the very chambers in which she was a member that needed a change. The Viceroyalty needed to be restructured to ensure that the fear that had crept its way into the halls would not take root, nor find a crevasse to hide within. The Confederacy needed to change, and it needed to change for the better. For if it did not, then it would go the way of the Sith Empire, assailed by enemies on all sides before crumbling into the domains of a hundred bickering warlords to be consumed by those that brought it low.​

​

Bastille Rommer | Agravain | Jordar Varcskel | Jorik Valnora | Pravus Cruento | Matthew Locke | Ettiene Kharne | John Locke | Srina Talon | Open​

 

[Pravus Cruento]

Bastille Rommer Darth Metus Daegon Corvinus Agravain Jorik Valnora Ettiene Kharne John Locke Srina Talon

Pravus watched and found he hadn’t breathed in what felt like three whole minutes. He was at what would be one of the most extraordinary moments in the history of the Viceroyalty. He couldn’t tell where the coup was coming from; from without, as the machinations of the former Vicelord because manifest, or within, as the Viceroy of Sedesia spoke of reform and redress, changing the very fabric of the body.

His duty was to the people of Scarif. His duty was bound to serve the Charter. None of this felt Charterial, constitutionally sound. It sounded like a dangerous coup, well-organised and planned meticulously.

Pravus was one for progressive politics, determined minds bringing their collective wisdom for the betterment of the people they served. This was…grotesque. To see the former Vicelord so publicly assaulted in this manner. To see fingers pointed and accusations flung like food in a kindergarten.

To see representatives succumb to the flights of patriotic fervour that would otherwise embarrass a fawning school-child meeting their holonet soap opera hero.

No. No matter what happened here today, Pravus would watch with great interest. He was the only wedge between the growing succours of corruption and junta and the people he was duly elected to serve.

 

[Matthew Locke]

Wearing: A Suit?​

_________________________________________________

NABOO - GOLBAH HILL
CHAMBERS OF THE VICEROYALTY​

Tagging: Bastille Rommer | Darth Metus | Daegon Corvinus | Agravain | Jorik Valnora | Ettiene Kharne | John Locke | Pravus Cruento | Jordar Varcskel
_________________________________________________

His eyes followed the conversation as it zipped across the room, long-winded speech here, winded cry over here, a romantic plea from the top row. All of these were just words, but Matthew knew better that this was as dangerous a battlefield as any he had inhabited throughout his life, mayhap even more dangerous, but that didn't stop him from having to navigate it as carefully as any minefield.

Each one of the Viceroyalty here came from different walks of life, Soldiers, Royalty, Politicians, Merchants, Diplomats. Some of them could wield the force and throw someone across the room with a flick of their wrist, whilst some had to sit and pray that their planet would receive more aid after some devastation rocked their planet.

When his mind came upon this realization his vision shifted, 'twas no longer words or pleas, it was great beasts fighting for dominance over one another, the walls disappearing to reveal the whisps of outside influences that corrupted the individuals around him.

Matthew could almost sea the auras around Darth Metus and Daegon Corvinus , along with the other members of the Viceroyalties such as Bastille Rommer and Baroness Magrath . They each were swelling, fighting for dominance over one another and to provoke their will over one another.

A sharp pain swelled on his brow as he placed his head into his hands. The world around him slowly slipped to darkness as he took a deep breath, slowly raising his head and hearing the finishing words from the Baroness. John Locke , why did you get me into this mess.

Looking around the pod he had claimed he chimed in before taking a stand, a shakey breath rattling his chest as he fixed his overcoat slightly as he looked over at the Viceroyalty that had come to the meeting, and some that had joined in from across the galaxy. His eyes fixed on a spot that faced outwards as he gathered his thoughts.

"Vicelord and Viceroys, for all of our actions we have taken we take together, we are of one voice, but we are not infallible, we are susceptible to fear, we are susceptible to outside influences to creep into our minds and to influence the way we feel, even if we know that might not be the correct actions.

Isley Verd has spent much of his years building together this union of planets, to allow for strength and unit, for defense against those who would threaten each of these planets individually. How did we repay him for his vigilance and for his hard work? We cast him out like an old jacket, like a pair of socks that has one too many holes in it. But he is not a broken man, for he comes back with the want to continue his service to the government, and the people he strives to defend and to see thrive.

It is okay to be afraid, it would be foolish to ignore those things that make us scared, but to be a fool is where we all would folly. In Vicelord Verd resides the strength we need to overcome any fears that may hold inside. I pray that you heed my words, or at least consider them. I yield the floor."

With a slight nod, Matthew sat back down in his chair letting out a deep breath as he had done so. His words would do little to convince those of the Viceroyalty, this he knew, but he had hoped to strengthen the resolve of those who had listened. He was not like them, but he knew how to overcome fear.

​

 

[Ettiene Kharne]

Post: 2
Tag(s): Darth Metus | John Locke | Srina Talon | Matthew Locke | Pravus Cruento | Jorik Valnora | Baroness Magrath | Agravain | Daegon Corvinus | Bastille Rommer | Open

Well this was certainly a spicy session. Then again, they always seemed to be and it was one of the reasons Luca actually enjoyed coming to these things. They were always sure to be entertaining. And this one was no different. Today was a 'take a bite out of Bastille' day, although Luca couldn't blame any of them for doing so. Luca himself held no love for the man, but Bastille had a way of making himself unpalatable to those around him. So it was easy to hate the man. Very easy.

One thing that couldn't be argued, though, was his commitment to Ra'katha. Even if his methods of propping himself and his home up for what would benefit them, even if it meant the detriment of other member systems of the Confederacy. His loyalty to Ra'katha was admirable. And no one could argue that.

But still, it brought a deal of joy to the man's heart to see the Viceroy targeted like he was right now.

Luca shifted a moment and then looked to his datapad and back to the crowd. Considering the nature of this session and it's decree as to being mandatory attendance, more than a handful of worlds failed to send any representation. A note Luca duly made to be brought up upon a later date. But for now, he simply sat back and continued to watch it all unfold.

The wondrous entertainment of political squabble.​

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Ettiene Kharne | Bastille Rommer | Jorik Valnora | Pravus Cruento | Agravain | Matthew Locke | Baroness Magrath | John Locke | Daegon Corvinus | Aether the Iron
Location: Viceroyalty Chambers
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

Late.

There was not a single meeting of the Viceroyalty that she arrived to without running a few minutes past the time of commencement. Whether or not it was deliberate or due to the vastness of the day-to-day duties that she undertook while the leadership of the Confederacy seemed to be in flux or a deliberate act—None would ever know. She hated, these meetings.

They always ended with one person or another levying threats for outside reasons, or, pure and simple pig-headed behavior. Grandstanding, selfishness, genital measuring, or whatever it was that drove politicians to counter each other with such dire extremes helped no one. Not them, not their cause, and certainly not the people of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Which, was what this was all about, right?

She could hear the bickering from down the hall.​

Children held more decorum.

Her wintry presence would be heralded by a subtle gust of wind that would cause the very air to dip in temperature by several degrees. She did not hide who or what she was. Not from the people of the Confederacy nor from this gathering of esteemed individuals that had sworn to act for the betterment of their sovereign systems. Anyone who knew her understood one fact about the longest-standing Exarch. She was brutal but equal. Anyone who knew her, knew of her, even in the barest form knew one thing: She did not lie. Mercurial eyes swept over each of them. From Bastille Rommer who may have been encouraged through whispers from abroad, to her slightly estranged mentor, Darth Metus , and even her assistant Ettiene Kharne . So many faces. So many, curiosities.

So many disappointments. Oh. How truly, the mighty had fallen.

When a break in the endless prattle seemed to give way, the Exarch finally made her thoughts known. She spoke lightly, almost gently, though, with a severity that let her tone carry throughout the chamber. Whether the assembled parties were near or far it mattered not—For they would all hear that which she had come so far to say. She was still fully embroiled in all of the difficulties their people held. With or without her Master at the helm. She had a duty to perform and she would see it done.

As was her way.

"…The blame for our folly does not fall on the shoulders of one man. Not from the Agent Wars and certainly not from the calamity that became Rhand. I was present for both acts of violence. My feet were on the ground. My eyes, stinging from sand and smoke. My skin burned from fire that rained from the sky. I remember, the people I tried to save. I remember each one. We remember our losses. We mourn, our losses. But so easily do we forget the price of victory."

"So easily—Do we forget the bitterness of loss. The feeling of being anything, but the victor."

Bitterness. It was a cruel, careless word, but it was the only one she had. How could any of them know what it felt like on Rhand? What the war was actually like? Many of the Viceroy hadn't been present and had no idea what happened other than hearsay. They simply did not know. They didn't know and they weren't prepared to accept the nightmare, nor the price, that came with watching every terror that the mind could create become real. It was a cost that very few in these chambers had ever been required to pay. Why? Because as member worlds they all had the luxury, if they chose, to allow the wars to pass them by like a cool breeze. They could CHOOSE to keep their sons and daughters in safety while the Confederacy moved on their behalf. Did they ever wonder how many times calamity had been halted, truly, and without so much as a scuffle that they need concern themselves with? "War is pitiless, Viceroy. It is real. It is here—And it is not leaving."

"There will always be adversaries lurking in the shadows. There will always be forces moving against us. Enemies, former friends, and everything else in-between. It lays with the simple fact that we have something they want. Be it land, people, or raw materials. They don't care who they harm to attain their goals, merely, that they do—While we are tempered by mercy. We cannot, will not, set fire to our systems to kill out enemies. The Maw, can. The Maw, will. We must be prepared to do everything we can to keep our people safe. We are their shield. We are their hope, their peace, and we cannot let that falter even when faced with the darkest of hours. I cannot verify many of the accusations against this body, nor, will I attempt to at this time. What I can tell you is what our people require."

She paused briefly to allow mercurial eyes to slip by the members of the Viceroy with a certain surety that she always seemed to hold. Even in the face of losing. Even, in the recovery of Rhand—She was ever stalwart. Cold, unfeeling, but with the stability of the largest mountain. Nothing moved her. Even now she remained ever certain, that in time, they would recover. The Maw were an enemy they knew not. Now, they did. Now, they knew. "They require unity. They require grain, resources, security on our borders, and most importantly, a governing body that can be honest with one another and cease threatening the throat of the Confederate next to them."

"If Daegon Corvinus chooses to resign; That is his decision and his alone. We must respect it. The position of Vicelord is a heavy burden on the finest of days and he has served this nation to the best of his ability, on the worst one, by acting with the information he had at the time. The decision to go to war did not rest solely on his head. There is no telling that anyone would have been able to do any better. Not myself, not Darth Metus , nor anyone else in this room. What matters now is how we recover from this. How do we move forward—And who will lead us?"

"Who in this room is qualified to do so? Who in this nation is ready, able, and willing to accept the nomination for that burden? Make no mistake, Viceroy. It is a privilege to be the one that so many look toward for guidance, however, it is also weight that can never be shifted."

Srina Talon would always care for her Master, however, she was not unwilling to look at another candidate to lead if one proved themselves worthy. She was not at all unwilling to place the vote before the people of the Confederacy and follow their lead. She had followed them through the deposing of Isley Verd, despite, her reservations about Corvinus and she would follow it now. The seat of the Vicelord was a democratic position and the Vicelord themselves were elected officials. Perhaps, her thoughts stemmed from the fact that she had spent a decade, watching, the toll it had taken on someone she loved.

Perhaps—It was her silent faith. The "Sith Scare" had ended, truly, in the wake of Rhand. Evidence came to light of parties moving independently to aid the Sith Empire and without the will of the Confederacy at large. With every day that moved forward, the truth became a little clearer. A little less hidden. It was akin to when the Eternal Empire moved against the Droid Nation in secret. So much maneuvering. So much exposition; and so many, webs that had been woven by those who wished their nation harm.

Perhaps, it was because she trusted the Confederacy, come hell or high water, to do what was right, even when the cost was high.

"I suggest a recess in which we may take stock of ourselves. Get a breath of fresh air and return with cooler heads and calm dispositions. We need solutions, not anarchy. Help one another. We have all assembled through duty and a responsibility to our people. Let that not be in vain, and understand, that this is not how liberty dies. This is how we come together."

"This is how we survive."

 

[Ascendant Muse]

Portraying:
Glie Tiatkin, Speaker of the Viceroyalty​

GOLBAH HILL, VICEROYAL CHAMBERS

The chambers were alive with discourse.

Hushed whispers. Passionate shouts. In the eyes of the aging Tiatkin, the session was but a hair's length away from uproar. When last such fervor gripped the body, the exact inverse of the present day was before them. Many had succumbed to what was now called the "Sith Scare." And in doing so, party lines did not matter. Legislation was irrelevant. The presumption of innocence was thrown out the window, all in the name of paranoia. It was a troubling time for the Viceroyalty, and for the nation as a whole. Now, the chambers thundered with countless voices.

Until the Twi'lek rose to his feet. His was an unenviable position: tasked with keeping order within the Chambers.

When times were peaceful, debates were spirited. And thus he did not have to wrangle a bucking beast. Yet there would always be times like today. Times where the ring of the gavel was the only thing that could bring order. And thus, he thundered the gavel down - taking his place upon the podium. He waited, like an instructor before an unruly class, until true silence befell the body. "There will be order." His voice was a rasp - a sign of youth gone by. Yet experience rested within his eyes.

He had lived to see the Southern Systems united time and time again. They lived under the heel of an elitist, technical conglomerate once. They lived under an inferior Confederacy once. They lived under lawlessness once. And Tiatkin believed that this attempt, compared to all others, was the best one. Thus, he would believe in the rule of law. Of their law that they decided together.

"Points of Order." he began.

"As we had done so before, when Vicelord Verd set precedence, we will accept the resignation of Vicelord Corvinus. However, we will accept this resignation without condition. While there is no rule preventing the executive leadership from suggesting a successor, the decision will be made by this body alone. Such is the Law."

His motioned towards the gathering behind him - specifically towards the Echani Exarch. "Many arguments have been made in light of...the unexpected arrival of our former Vicelord. He, by proxy of wielding Fondor's time, has requested a vote of this body. We will honor his request following a recess - one wisely suggested by Exarch Talon."

The gavel rang as thus.

The session was, for the time being, adjourned for recess.

"Remember your duties one and all. Each member of this body was chosen to represent millions of souls. Let not your minds be distracted from this hallowed responsibility."

Srina Talon | Darth Metus | Jordar Varcskel | Ettiene Kharne | Bastille Rommer | Jorik Valnora | Pravus Cruento | Agravain | Matthew Locke | Baroness Magrath | John Locke | Daegon Corvinus | Aether the Iron​

​