Empire Week - Day One: Cloud City All-City Street Fair | First Order

[Natasi Fortan]

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Clean-up of the devastation that had rained across Cloud City during the Galactic Alliance's failed attempt to wrest control of the city from the First Order had only just finished when the Minister of Culture & Heritage had approached Governor Volcata, acting Baron Administrator of Cloud City, about the Empire Day celebration. "After the long, dreary grey horror of war, don't you think the people deserve more than a big parade and some fireworks? We should be celebrating across the Empire, don't you think? Cloud CIty could be a big part of that, Governor Volcata, what do you think?"​

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Petyr Calinda was very persuasive. He wanted to take advantage of the broad, open spaces of Cloud City to throw a street fair, the likes of which had never been seen on Cloud City before. The normally stratified city had been thrown open, with its cultural and museum spaces open for free admission, the normally exclusive bars, clubs, and restaurants open for everyone. Food trucks and stalls were scattered around the city, with every block having at least three choices of cuisine and drinks, souvenir stands featuring memorabilia celebrating the First Order's victory lined the streets.​

​

The Ministry of Culture subsidized the affair, making everything easily affordable. Meanwhile, festival games and rides, speeder races and tours of First Order warships were available to entertain the masses. A whole block of the center of the city had been blocked off as a route for an AT-AT rides, thirty at a time, with real AT-AT operators talking about how it worked and what they had seen in service with the AT-AT corps.​

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Spirits were high; crowds gathered for concerts and rallies, applauding as the First Order State Media announcement of victory at Bespin were replayed periodically between patriotic marches, toasts to the 'boys in white', the 'boys in black', and the Supreme Leader.​

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Empire Week - Day One!​

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"I want to look like a Zabrak!"

"I will paint you in the proper colors befitting the prettiest butterfly."

Sure enough, Preliat's practiced hands worked well in painting small children's faces in a variety of heroes, villains. Many thought it'd be funny to have pictures painted like Jamie Pyne. Most wanted to be stormtroopers. To some, goose-stepping armored white soldiers were a symbol of terror. For most, it was the symbol of order and stability in a galaxy that was all too familiar with chaos.

"Thanks, mister!"

He was wearing fatigues. First Order fatigues. Hadn't worn a uniform since he played Null Hockey. A few people out here remembered him. Cracking skulls in zero gravity. Null Hockey was a beautiful sport. He wished he stuck around longer. He asked to be around the kids. For obvious reasons.

 

[Aedan Miles]

Aedan sighed as he strode through the city streets looking around taking note of various members of his crew or clan wandering around some of them had even payed for their families to come and join them. They had been delayed here after assisting with the invasion repairing the damage to the ship Aedan himself had brought while Alek's ship had done standard patrol routes throughout the border systems to help halt any farther incursions into First Order space. Looking around the Pirate King/Alor/Young man just sighed these kinds of events were never something he enjoyed he was here because he had been requested to come apparently someone would seek him out eventually to speak to him about his assistance provided during the invasion they had defended themselves in with possible long term contracts for it. So here he was wandering in his standard uniform its long sleeved trench coat with a split tail open to bare the dark violet shirt underneath. On the left chest over his heart was his clan's symbol as well as a single series of three letters that served to identify him to anyone who knew what they were looking for PKM. Pirate King Miles at one time that name had been feared now it wasn't as much feared as people were wary of his presence when he announced it luckily he had never once spoken during the previous invasion so a scarce few people even knew he had been there. All they knew is some wealthy company or individual had loaned the FO a large carrier with a fairly adept commander at the helm. During his time waiting for his ship to be repaired he had received word the first wing of his newest fighters had been finished he had eagerly sent for three full squadrons of them as well as three squadrons of the originals and today when he met with whoever was in charge of his assistance they would be presented to them as gifts. But for now while he waited for someone to find him for he had no doubt he was being watched this whole time he wandered the city streets admiring certain things and looking curiously at others the whole time.

 

[Braser Steltan]

Post 1, onboard The Stark

"If another tour of gawking children and drunken adults pass through my ship I'll personally hit the self destruct." Braser rubbed his long fingers into his temples as crowds of loud onlookers toured through the hallways. A young officer aboard the ship was happily showing the guests every feature of the frigate. Telling the stories of the battles it had seen, which was a small number. "If you would like to retire to you're quarters I can handle things here sir." Lt. Tsido has sympathy in his voice as he tried to help the tired Lieutenant Commander. Braser nodded as he quickly strode off down the corridors. He wasn't going to his quarters, hell no, he was headed to the bar.

Just as he rounded the corner he was cutoff by the young officer and a group of children. "Oh look kids! This is Lieutenant Commander Braser Steltan! He is the captain onboard The Stark." The kids stared at the tall man as he let out an awkward smile and proceeded to tell them about the ships weaponry. A moment later as the group left he grabbed the young officer by the collar and nearly strangled him. All he needed now was some peace and quiet, and alcohol.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

The Avenger drifted silently over the festivities. Even from a few hundred feet in the air, the sounds of the celebration drifted up. Emilia smiled, it had been a difficult few weeks for the citizens of Cloud City, the violence and brutality of war had left its mark on these citizens, the least they deserved was a few days to drink and be merry. Her job, was to ensure the security of the people of Bespin. Her Fortan II corvette moved slowly, at only a few knots. The doors and hatches were all open, and a refreshing breeze filled the tight spaces of the ship. Inside, her crew worked around the clock, headphones on, listening for encrypted messages, for any sign that enemy insurgents were planning to strike. The Avenger appeared, to the untrained eye, just like any of the dozen or so First Order warships that cruised through the lower atmosphere. But her ship, and others, were a part of a discreet network, a convoluted web of intelligence that formed the First Order's all seeing eye.

Emilia gazed over the crowd, trying to find the approximate center of the festivities, slowly, she turned The Avenger and positioned it over a huge throng of party-goers. As the ship passed overhead she caught small snippets of noise; some sort of horn, a yell, and deep uproarious laughter. The dull hum of the engines were just audible over the noise of the crowd, and the sound comforted her.

While her primary mission was to gather intelligence, her commanders were not opposed to a little flair. As the corvette flew over the crowd, Emilia pressed a small button on the yoke, opening a door on the ship's ventral side. Smoothly, like silk, a huge FO banner unfurled, trailing behind The Avenger like a glorious crimson cape. The shadow of the magnificent pennant fell upon the people below, and the people gazed upon it in rapture, bewitched by the awesome power of the First Order.

The Avenger continued on its patrol with the banner in tow. A symbol of security, and of power.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Cloud City, Bespin

Ranulph got a chuckle from watching the AT-AT Rides. "Surely the Army is rolling in this," truly he thought with an amused look about his face he was headed to the museum. Adorned not in white plastoid armour today, but rather a pair of black slacks, with a light blue polo tucked in and a belt to compliment his loafers. Blond hair combed back, his piercing blue eyes took in the sight, the sounds and the smells. "Bless you Cloud City and your delicious foods," he said aloud and gave a nod of acknowledgment to a vendor, "hallo, wow this all looks good what's this one over 'ere?"

"Ah this one is a deep friend Rontho steak and we put our own Cloud City sauce which is made with vegetables and a bit of maynesia." Explained the vendor as Ranulph shuffled through his wallet and pulled out a couple of crisp Imperial bills.

"Thank you," he said to man as he took the little disposable fry basket with his meal. Ranulph with snack in hand continued to walk once his wallet was safely back in his front pocket. He watched the children play and listened as the carnival sounds got louder the closer he got. Colorful tents were displayed just as the First Order's banner unfurled above them. Not so long ago destruction had rained down upon the inhabitants here and Ranulph had been among their person.

Once he was finished with his meal he disposed of it and stopped to sanitize his hands from one of the city dispensers. Not realizing he had gotten a bit of sauce on his beautiful shirt. He passed through the tents with ease once more his focus had been the museum and for the moment he could see the words as they stood boldly before all. The officer knew that he could find Doctor [member="Audrey Saint George"] here, this was as much of a home for her as her own flat he reckoned. Hands clasped together as he crossed Calrissian Plaza and took a few steps up into the museum's entrance.

Patiently he stood and waited in line to get his stamp of free admission before being able to walk freely within the museum itself.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

After an interesting meeting with Kyrel Ren on Bespin, Tmoxin had seen a holo advertisement in a corridor somewhere on Cloud City for Empire Week and decided to remain in the system to attend. But once arriving at the joyous festival, celebrating the military pushback of the Galactic Alliance in the city itself, she couldn't tell if the garish display was offensive or charming. A little bit of both, I suppose.

Tmoxin was not a fan of children, and she’d practically operated AT-ATs during her time as an Army commander for the One Sith, but the museum looked appealing. If she’d known Captain Miles was at the festival she would have invited him to scamper behind the cultural center and sip brandy from the bottle like a couple of teenagers, but she had not seen the Pirate King yet.

The Hapan executive stood in line for admission behind a male with a tell-tale military haircut. Tmoxin had also dressed casually although her stark, white jacket had sharp shoulder pads - more fashion than anything resembling armor.

“Oh admission is free for you. How come?” she asked him after paying a small credit chit for her own ticket. The Dark Jedi was not frugal, merely curious. As a former commander of them she ventured to guess that the man in the slightly stained polo shirt was a stormtrooper.

[member="Ranulph Tarkin"]

 

[Riamah]

Sulen Dewan an ancient soul in modern times. Almost an original member of the First Order from over 800 years ago. Back then, she had hopes of being in the Navy, but had been sent to a secret base and then run through vigorous tests and procedures. The sent into a stasis casket to be forgotten and only found recently. Having caught up on many affairs of the galaxy and some of what had transpired, she still had yet to find her place again within the First Order.

Learning of a celebration, Sulen decided to join in on some of the festivities. Though she hadn't been a part of the actions that lead to them, she was First Order and would attend. Always wanting to have been in the Navy before she was sent to that secret facility, she saw a few ships open for touring. Boarding the nearest, she walked along with the rest of the people.

Taking note of how things had changed since her time, she felt like she needed a drink. Making a break from the touring group when she found the bar for the officers, she walked in. Going up to the bar, shaking her head slightly as she ordered her drink. Turning around, she would look to see who else was in there.

"Thank you. "

She said this as the drink was set down on the bar for her.

@Braser Steltan

 

[Eugen Aker]

Suravi was back on Cloud City, again, but this time to partake in the festivities of Empire Week. She wasn't a particularly patriotic sort, but she understood the good optics of high ranking officials like herself making a public appearance.

From her yacht, she made her way to the welcome center for an informal tour of the facilities, chatting with some of the customs agents and Stormtroopers on the scene as she waited for Hector to arrive. Without her usual regalia or guard detail, none them recognized the Moff on sight, so the conversations came easy.

All were polite, though she could feel some were quite frazzled under the surface of their professional facade. It hadn't been too long since hostilities between the First Order and Galactic Alliance had come to a close, and people were still reeling. Cloud City itself had been a site of some particularly fierce fighting.

On Cloud City, all sorts of freebies and discounts were being offered to FO military and government workers, but the personnel at the welcome center and checkpoints probably wouldn't get to enjoy any of it while they were on shift. So as a small token of appreciation, she treated them with the promise of personal catering as she revealed herself (out of her own pocket). Soon, all the agents and soldiers would be enjoying the finest cuisine Cloud City had to offer.

[member="Hector Finn-Camden"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

"It's free for everyone if I understand correctly," he responded to the rather tall woman just behind him, "Empire week and all." Ranulph was rather calm about the matter he checked the time and was a little, well. He was rather impatient for there was a young woman he wanted to see. He turned again to get another look at the woman mostly so he could note her features. The man was rather good with faces or so he liked to think so at any rate. "I'm sorry I don't believe we've met, Ranulph Tarkin." He extended his hand out for a proper shake and moved up the line with the others. Once they had, had a look at this stamp they passed him through and there they were inside the museum. "I uh, I came here to meet with a friend but it appears she is rather busy at the moment." He said of the good Dr. Saint George who was somewhere in the back but he would rather not interrupt her work.

"You, you don't seem like you're from here, Bespin that is," Or perhaps even the First Order but Ranulph did not want to go too far out on a limb. The museum was as he remembered it although cleaner, and no longer empty of people. Curators were at work and crowds moved through the halls casually, he could still see the AT-AT rides moving about and gave a small smile. Those poor Army bastards he thought with a smile, "if you like I'd be more than happy to accompany for the next few moments if you'll have me that is." His sparkling blue eyes seemed to have an extra cheer to them as he offered his time to the woman, notably Hapan if he recalled properly.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]​

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Dass stood, in full regalia, in his typical armor that he wore during most operations. It was painted to accommodate an urban environment. Children were all too happy to come up to him, ask to see his weapon, try on his helmet, to hold his rifle. They were children, and the visage of soldiers and warfare was exciting and evoked emotions of play and harmless video games. To Dass, the visage of war was both of business and painful memory. One Sith failed in their care of Dass, and the wandering following it scarred him. But he found purpose and employment again in the First Order, and was oh-so-happy to be of service to the Order.

He rested his hands on his hips, watching the admired looks of the good people of Bespin come forth and observe what the First Order could bring to the table. They provided peace and stability, unlike the chaotic 'freedom' of the Alliance. Freedom was indeed not free, paid for with chaos, death, and ultimately failure, as the galaxy had seen time and time again. How many times had the Republic and it's children, the Alliance, the Rebels, the Coalition- had failed in their attempts at peace? The First Order, to Dass, made more sense. Taking away people's ability to do certain things meant peace, stability, and ultimately happiness. Was it so hard for people to simply pledge faith to the Order, and live in it's safety?

He wasn't one to worship the Supreme Leader, or the Knights of Ren (who in truth, creeped Dass out) but he could not argue with the air of tranquility that the First Order had. Dass rubbed his shaved head, and idled at the tattoo on his face, before letting his hands fall back at his sides. He was meant to be enjoying today, not muse over the galaxy's faults. A child came and asked him about his shawl. Dass smiled and draped it over the child, and explained the finer points of concealment to him, all too happy to do so.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Luther had to be the only person with a scowl on their face.

'Security couldn't just be dropped' his CO had said. 'Someone has to pull the short straw so everyone else can have a good day'. Apparently he'd been picked at random, but he sincerely doubted it. His commander hated him, an old dispute with Luther's now-deceased father pushing the flames of aggression towards his son. Luther hadn't said anything, just accepted his assignment and left. As a medic, he'd been immediately placed in the first aid station inside the museum.

He took a deep breath in and out. The kid's grating voice was grinding his right ear while the mother's shrill comments cut into his left. He ignored them both and continued to wipe the boy's wound clean.

"I told you miss" Luther addressed the Mother. "I need to clean out your son's cut before I bandage it, and it is going to hurt no matter how slow I go".

The boy had been running around the museum's exhibits while his Mother drank with the other aristocrats. Without supervision, he'd decided it would be a good idea to enter an exhibit of the Battle for Hoth (which one Luther couldn't recall). The Mother, looking for her son, spotted the boy as be accidentally cut his forearm on a rebel bayonet. She'd brought him to the first aid station and explained what happened. Luther had laughed. "He hasn't even joined the army yet and he already deserves a purple heart!"

She wasn't impressed.

The duo was finally gone and Luther breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced around the museum and peeked out one of the large windows. People were laughing and having fun. Crowds were bustling this way and that, sampling the foods and festivities. A hint of a smile crept onto Luther's face. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.

He was tapped on the shoulder and turned to find a Stormtrooper helping a man in a fine suit. The man wore a haughty expression on his face, an impressive feat considering three of his fingers were broken and his face was as pale as Luther's armor.

The scowl returned.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Notepad open on the desk in front of him, Henry studied the newscast on the broad screen in front of him. He tapped his pen against the notepad, eyes narrowing to study the face, dress, and demeanor of the man reporting the news. Everything from his black suite and signature plum tie, his pleasant smile and perfectly coiffed hair, to his small First Order emblem lapel pin, was subject to Henry's approval -- or disapproval.

His pen hesitated over the notepad, and he finally jotted a few notes before standing up and tearing the page out. He folded it over, placed it in a crisp white envelope and handed it to his assistant, who didn't need to be told what to do with it. Liam took it directly to the communications suite to communicate the boss's notes on the newscaster's performance. Meanwhile, Henry himself disembarked the shuttle and strolled down the terminal, checking his watch as he approached [member="Suravi Teigra"]'s location. He bit back a curse.

He was late.

"Suravi," he said, spreading his hands apologetically as he walked up to her. "So sorry to keep you waiting. Business -- you know. You look like a million galactic standard credits. Ah, who are your friends?" he asked, casting his gaze around the people Suravi was interacting with.