Finding Ones Voice and Feet.

[Solan Charr]

FONDOR, REPUBLIC ENVOY STATION​

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Solan leaned against the cane he used, his body shifting as he waited for those who had been invited to a very simple meeting. The purpose was to address the situation in the galaxy, the shifting times and the changes that had happened. The issue was that the dark has continued to grow and thrive, empires and those who call the dark master spreading like a wildfire while few governments retain their place. The Free Worlds, The Commenori, and his own home had all fallen after the balance was upset and the Galactic Alliance was removed from the face of the Galaxy. It was not dead though, he knew that fact well enough, having ensured the Alliance in Exile also gained an invitation to this little meeting.

The two of importance though are those who give aid to the Alliance, and those who remain as the single entity in the galaxy who supports the light. He had invited representatives from the Silver Jedi and the Outer Rim, looking to get something started and some groundwork settled so that there was room to expand things in time. He would not expect a great deal, no great league but something needed done. He knew meetings like this never seemed to lead to good, but to say he nor those he stood with were anything but stubborn would be silly.

He looked to his side, waiting for his own benefactors to arrive. He had been careful about who was to come, [member="Lux Berooken"] being chief among the options. He was unattached to anything that would draw scorn or upset the meeting. Then there was [member="Darius Sedaire"], a man who did what he could for the Republic's remaining Jedi. There had never been many but the Sith Inquisitors seemed intent on tracking down and murdering those that they could. Lastly, himself, standing there in a Republic Admiral's uniform and leaning on a cane as he waited for the guests.

His mind drifted thinking the others who would have been invited had things been different. People like Sovv who no longer stood with the Republic. Or his old friends who had chosen other paths, deciding to get in bed with sith and the dark. It made Solan saddened, unable to stand beside those who he had fought with for decades, but they had chosen their path. For now, he had to choose his and stand strong.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

This was the last place he had expected to end up.

After the fall of the Black Library, he had expected to spend the rest of his life conducting his shadow war against those that had taken everything from him. Revenge had held a lofty place in his heart, and there was little that could sway him from his self-appointed path of retribution.

Then the attacks had come. Darius could almost smell the scent of burning ozone in the air as he recalled the assault on the civilian convoy. The imperial death squads had ripped through the civilians in search of anyone that called themselves Jedi, and the inherent goodness in his hear had spurred him into action. Protecting the refugees had given him a purpose, and he'd quickly grown into something of a leader in their fledgling movement. It wasn't something Darius wanted, he had little love for the spotlight, but in times like these he supposed the people needed figureheads to believe in.

It had been the exile's immense comfort to learn that all the New Republic had not fallen, and there were other such heroes to bear the same burden he did. In this endeavor, Darius was not alone.

He stood at the rim of the gathering, arms folded about his chest as he observed the meeting in silence. He was clad in the duster-cloak of his old station, the cloth black as night and measured specifically to match his broad form. His face was hidden beneath the iron visage of his mask. Few of his allies had actually seen his face, and Darius preferred it that way - he could walk anonymously among the people without fear of recognition.

The exile gave [member="Solan Charr"] the briefest of nods. It was an expression of solidarity, and all Darius was willing to show for now.

 

[Lux Berooken]

It's no secret that he'd made his name in diplomacy, he started in politics as a member of the foreign ministry on Sarapin and as a Senator his focus was on galactic politics. The last few months had been difficult and while New Republic had come close to collapse it had survived but there was doubt that it had been damaged, one the reasons that he had agreed to come was to make sure that galaxy still knew that NR was still a major player that could contribute.

Looking outside one of the windows he could see the blackness of space and it made him remember while they were there, the galaxy was a naturally dark place but there was no doubt that it was getting darker and things were changing for the worse. He knew in his heart that if they could all come to some sort of agreement they could at the very least push back the forces of evil and protect as many people as possible. The people that backed the NR expected him to work towards that goal and if could get something in writing that would be a major political victory for himself and go a long way in cementing in the NR.

He gave [member="Solan Charr"] a warm simile "I would like to thank you for organizing this meeting, with some work I think that we could accomplish something here that could totally change the landscape of this galaxy"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Just making his way through the galaxy had never been enough for Coren. For him, there was always much more to do, to be ready for, to be worthy for. Since the Alliance was down and out, he had thrown his time in to the Coalition and the Silvers, but more than that. He had thrown his hand behind unity.

Unification.

And a focused front.

Rebels, Republics, and Jedi, they all shared a focused goal. They all sought the same thing. And for a while, Starchaser wasn’t able to differentiate that more than what it was in the Force. And sure, he still didn’t care for dark siders, but he knew there were people who could be useful to him, even if they were not completely in his camp. What he was hoping to accomplish was to show that there was a greater galaxy of support out there.

Show that the Alliance’s spark was still out there. That Jedi were still working, and that he had gathered numerous groups behind him. And they were always accepting more. To stand together against the coming darkness.

A light in the night.

Yes, this was being organized by a person who served the dark side, or used it, but they seemed to serve a purpose to help protect. Coren would allow the chance.

The galaxy was changing.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

[SIZE=11pt]“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Starchaser.” Loske broke the silence that the halls beckoned. A part-time recruit to factions, but a full-time resource for the LightSide, the blonde pilot had serendipitously managed to find herself arriving to the station with timing that mirrored the former Alliance comrade, [member="Coren Starchaser"]. Or current? She couldn't keep track of faction titles. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The last time she’d worked with him was over a shared frequency, evacuating Mon Cal. After that, the galaxy begged separate ways. Nonetheless, it was a face and name more known than a voice, so Loske didn’t have much trouble connecting the two. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her hands were pocketed, exuding a level of nonchalance despite the premise of attendance. Everything in the galaxy was so [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]serious, [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]may as well make the minutiae of interactions at least something worth smiling about. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“How on earth do you manage your time without clones?” [/SIZE]

 

[John Locke]

The Galaxy was a darker place now than it had been before, the Sith and Imperial factions had been in the ascent for longer than John could remember. He had watched the Republic from it's early days, as it established itself in the core and now as it had fallen, fleeing Carida and the core. Honestly, that's why he'd been so surprised when he'd got the message from Solan Charr, the republic grand admiral had called together those who would stand against the dark wave washing over the Galaxy.

It had been an excuse to visit Fondor if nothing else, that legendary shipyard to see what they were doing now. The cyborg had arrived early, wandering around a little before the troops on guard had cottoned onto him, directing him to the conference room that had been set aside for them. So here he was now, nursing a glass of Corellian Whiskey in one hand, his back pressed up against hte door as a pair of dark eye settled on their host as the man's dossier span out in his vision, allowing John to prepare for the meeting ahead. Or at least to try to prepare, he didn't actually know why they'd been called here, but he had do admit he was a little curious about it.