Dominion Foundations of a new empire | Ashlan Crusade | Hex above Koboth

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Foundations of a new empire​

The newly embolden Ashlan crusade had gone from strength to strength, recruiting new members and launching its first offensive actions into Sith space. But every empire needs to be built on strong foundations. As more systems join the fold, and an official area of influence is established, the rag tag bunch of misfits need to evolve and form a government and make certain decisions for the future. Today is that Auspicious day.

Isla Draellix had been tasked with making the arrangements for this meeting and associated celebrations and she was up to the task. The spot she has chosen is a lost site of religious significance to the old Ashlans, old, forgotten and now renewed, a perfect metaphor. The location is Salar's Rest the burial site of the first saint of Ashla. It took some research by Isla and then some searching by her fleet scouts, but she found it, and now her flagship hung over the planet like a guardian.

It had been two weeks to make the arrangements, there was camera droids, a ring of lecterns for different high ranking officials, a gallery area for anyone who wanted to watch and then the associated facilities. All of this done in the shadow of the burial pyramid of Salar. She had taken great efforts to ensure the whole affair was tasteful and respected the local landscape, so when they left, they would leave nothing but a few new guardians of the temple. She stood at the primary lectern at the head of the U shape of smaller ones, this one was raised up on the steps of the pyramid and would be the place for Cedric Grayson to stand as their leader.

Isla would be the first to make the speech though, there was a certain pageantry to these events that had to be respected. While the first few delegates arrived and took their stands, Cedric would wait out of site. Isla would then decide the appropriate time to make the opening address then hand the floor to Cedric. This would go without a hitch of course, she had been meticulous in her planning, and also in her appearance, an occasion like this would be remembered for generations after she was gone, it needed to be remembered.

High ranking members are invited to make speeches and openly discuss the future of the crusade, the main talking points are government type, command structure and military plans, but any pertinent points can be discussed and decided.

This world is not uninhabited, small tribes of primitives live here, they were spotted around the temple before preparations started but have not been seen since, either way, the events need willing defenders.

This beautiful moon is perfect for some exploration and general rest and relaxation, whilst members of the Crusade are under orders to maintain a respectable decorum whilst on this sacred moon, there is no compulsion to attend the main events if that is not your desire.




​

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Isla Draellix (wearing this) looked around her, everything was set, the first of the shuttles had already landed and she could vaguely see the first digitaries walking through the forest toward the location.

Did she have time? of course she did, one last check. She was as meticulous in her own appearance as everything else she did, this was no exception. she called a camera droid over that stood in front of her, showing her own image. She adjusted her ceremonial chain and her dress and looked at the image, perfect, she looked good today, that was important, it was a sign of respect at the very least, but it also gave her the confidence and gravitas to carry this event off. While no one was looking, she pulled her glasses down and pulled a bit of a pose, just enough to give her one last shot of confidence, then returned to her steely composure.

"Droids over, make sure that water on each lectern does not reach above 5 degrees, it is warm here, I do not want anyone feel uncomfortable at any time" Was this nerves making her micro manage? possibly, but everything was going to be perfect "and make sure that any of the digitaries have easy access to rest facilities in case they need a refresh."

 

[Geiseric]

Objective: Pilgrimage
Heinrich Faust | Vyrien Paskal | OPEN​

The winding path through the forest was lit by the light of the planet far above them, its mighty grace accompanied by blades of emerald and sapphire. Knight Geiseric wore no armour, trading it for comfortable plain clothes. Tonight they were not warriors, but pilgrims guided by the light of their Lady Ashla. The tranquility of the forest moon they found themselves on would help them find the tranquility within themselves. It would be much needed time, a reprieve for those who had already fought the Sith, and a vigil for those who were bound to in the days to come.

Incense of pine burned from a small container held in Geiseric's left hand, while his right held the lightsaber that lit their path forward with its azure glow. The relaxing incense combined with the smell of the mighty old growth forest while the light and dim hum of lightsabers warded off any would be attackers hiding in the darkness. The caravan of pilgrims sung chants in Essonian, and those who could not speak the language hummed along. Regardless of where they came from, they were all united in purpose and faith.

"We will reach the site soon," at the sight they had chosen they would conduct prayer, and worship Ashla. They needed her blessing for the war ahead. Some needed it even more than the once wayward son Geiseric.

"How do your wounds fare, Heinrich?" he inquired to his fellow crusader, a true Son of Ession through and through. Geiseric knew this man would be one who needed the healing light of the Force the most...

 

[Tristan Evore]

Objective - Auspicious Occasion
Wearing - This
Tags - Isla Draellix-Kobitana
​

War was hell. For decades, perhaps even centuries, the Anzati Warlord had been subject to the brutal reality behind war. The blunt tool had, more or less, worn him out. Yet, he still fought. Not for self validation, or some sense of righting a wrong, but rather for freedom. Oddly enough, he was a former Imperial Grand Moff.

The uniform he wore was plain, and barren. There was no rank plaque, nor was their any indication of title or status, but it demanded respect. Afterall, odds were he was several centuries older than many of his fellow 'crusaders' As he approached the lectern apprently assigned to him, he nodded to the Fleet Admiral Isla Draellix-Kobitana .

"No ice?"

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

It was difficult to keep the exhaustion from showing in his features, but he managed. One of his aides had suggested using makeup to hide the dark circles beneath his eyes and the heavy lines at their corners, though he had declined almost immediately. Tired though he might have been, he did not lead this crusade for vanity's sake. The people would see him for what he was, and nothing more.

The bacta patches and sutures were hidden well enough by his robes. Clad in the black trappings of the late Essonian Knights, Cedric wore no armor on this day. His pale face was bare to the world, his dark hair shaven close to his scalp, though his beard had been allowed to grow somewhat unruly. Eyes like pinpricks of flint examined the gathering with quiet curiosity. This was his first time paying homage to Salar's Rest, and he would spend the rest of the evening communing with his comrades in prayer beneath its hallowed walls, but for now there was work to be done.

Officially speaking, the Crusade's post-war governance would be decided. As things were now, legally speaking Cedric held the powers of a dictator over a disorganized horde following behind the armies of the crusade. That would need to change. If they were to truly liberate the Tingel Arm from tyranny, then proper governance would be required. What that sort of governance might be remained to be seen, though Cedric had more than a few ideas he intended to share.

He would watch Tristan Evore and Isla Draellix-Kobitana from the corner of the chamber for a time, content simply to observe as the final preparations were set in stone. Politics aside, he could not shake the empty feeling that had formed in the pit of his stomach. His people had come so far from that horrific day back on the homeworld, and yet he stood here alone. He had no confidants, no friends, hardly any family, no great loves. All personal ties had been sacrificed for the sake of his service, for the greater good, for the galaxy itself.

He supposed then, that his private suffering was only another facet of that service. A service that would go unspoken, and that he would take to his grave if allowed.

The exile continued to watch.

 

[Vyrien Paskal]

OBJECTIVE
Pilgrimage
TAGS
Geiseric | Heinrich Faust | Open​

Adaptation had become his life's story; thoughts to this fact wound from his last days as he left the harsh, bitter freeze of home some years ago, through to now as he walked a dirt path with the blades of Jedi as guide, their group enveloped by the lush greenery, closed in with its dark that was mellowed by the mothering glow of the planet above. Like others, what he wore was unadorned, unprotective, a looser fit; not even so much as a stitch of light armour, that he might otherwise gravitate to even in low-threat situations, was present.

It had been an uncomfortable thing to acclimate to, but the chiding voice in the back of his mind, an echo of the woman that birthed him, quieted more and more the deeper he went in this faith over the past year, from the Core, to this edge of the galactic disk where Ashla's fires were much needed. Fires they would continue to spread, with Her blessing. And his hands, his eyes, his ears. His judgement.

But here, here he was not to be a watcher, not to perceive... he hummed with their tune, the language of the people by and large still an unfamiliarity in understanding, but familiar in presence, alone. Amongst the contingent, Vyrien Paskal was an anomaly, a ghostly, harsh man, much like the world he hailed from, but unlike its people, in that he chained his intellect to a greater force than himself. What had at first been a decided requirement for him to be effective amongst them, was now necessity and truth.

It would have been nothing, if not for the Cardinal's guidance.

Still, though he was here as a matter of faith, he couldn't help but shift his metallic gaze of silver to the two Crusader Knights as one spoke to the other, asking after the current state of the other's body. A compulsion in which his own hum tapered off almost in its entirety, until he reined himself in, again, his hum resyncing with the flow of chant.

Their destination was soon to come.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Cedric Grayson Tristan Evore

Isla was pacing as she waited for the delegates to attend, Cedric was here and ready to go, all the facilities were up and running. She saw Tristan Evore take his podium.

No ice? What did he think she was? A waiter?... oh right, a joke, she needed to relax, she was letting herself get wound up by the event. "If you speak to a droid I am sure they will do a quick run to hoth for you"

She looked over at Cedric who waited silently in the corner. She had a lot of respect for the man for what he was doing. She approached him.

"How are you feeling about today my Lord? I am honored to be a part of this, and, Ashla willing, everything will set us up well for the future."

She turned back and saw a few more delegates had now filtered in.

E Eric Vales
The fighter squadrons approached the two unknown vessels at the edge of the patrol zone.

"This is Squadron AC-231 to unidentified vessels, please identify yourselves." He looked at his scanner, the ships were registered to an Eric Vales, a known mercenary, but always best to check these things.



Vyrien Paskal ​

 

[Heinrich Faust]

Location: The pilgrim's path

Tags: Geiseric , Vyrien Paskal

Faith... what truly defines it? Many flocked to the Ashlan banner, and all shared the same fervor within their cause. There were yet many that had not known the truest of faith. Many had never suffered as Heinrich suffered. Years of torture and captivity under the Sith had left more than physical scars upon him. In the end... faith was the only thing that kept him from breaking. It taught him that, either in death or life, he would find his way back to her warm embrace.

Tonight was not just about him, however. Tonight was a night of humility, reflected in the simple clothes that he chose to wear. No armor nor rank was needed tonight, as they were all equal in the eyes of Ashla. The path was only lit by the dim light above and the sabers within their hands. Heinrich continued singing the old Essonian chants as they walked through the dense forest, finding communion within the tranquility of each other's company.

As he walked by the knight of Ashla Geiseric , he was asked about his wounds. The question held more meaning than perhaps even Geiseric realized. Heinrich would often still find himself wrestling with all of those years as a prisoner. Even since he rejoined his Essonian brethren, there were nights where he would wake up in a cold sweat. For all of his faith, the memories would never leave.

"They heal fine, for the most part. The wounds within yet require more time."

Usually Heinrich would downplay the mental scars he bore. After all, it was in the Crusade's best interest for him to appear strong. Tonight was not a time for that, however. This would be a time for truth, acceptance, and progress. Tonight, he was not Heinrich Faust, lieutenant of the mighty Cedric Grayson. Tonight, he was simply another humble servant of Ashla.

He could feel the cold gaze of the man that walked near him. Heinrich did not know him, but knew that if he was here, there was indeed a reason. Whatever his motives for joining this pilgrimage, he was one of them all the same. Heinrich motioned to the man as they continued toward their destination.

"Come, join us."

On this night of communion, and he would make himself available to all.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

E Eric Vales

"There will be no need for an escort Mr Vales, please proceed as you were. This area is now under sovereign rule of The Ashlan Crusade and protected by the Grand Fleet, if you transfer any transponder codes of your pirates to us, we can also add them to our watch list. Good hunting sir"

The squadron of fighters peel off and return to their standard patrol route, allowing the Vales to carry on their clandestine mission. Eric can detect a large presence of Ashlan ships hanging over the moon but they do not react to him other than a few automated scan pings.

 

[Geiseric]

Objective: Pilgrimage
Heinrich Faust | Vyrien Paskal | OPEN
​

"They heal fine, for the most part. The wounds within yet require more time."

Geiseric pondered his comrade's response. For years he'd held the guilt of standing helplessly by, too weak to save Ession. But now he had returned to his roots. He hoped one day, after he'd shed the blood of the Sith over their holy worlds and he'd repented his sins, that he could call himself a true Essonian.

Heinrich called over to another man, beckoning him to join them as they walked along, leading the pilgrims. Geiseric said nothing, for some things were better left unsaid. True brothers in arms knew the comforts of silence between them. Though, if Heinrich and the other man chose to talk, he would not dissuade them. They were nearing their destination, and Geiseric focused intensely on it.

The caravan of pilgrims in the night began to ascend ancient stone steps, inlaid in the hillside so long ago that they had become one with the land, covered almost entirely by moss. Atop the hill they came to the place of worship, where the adherents of their faith had once come regularly. A large stone circle surrounded the alter at the center of the hilltop, both sporting a design that Geiseric would venture to call Je'daii, similar to those he'd seen in his time on Tython.

"We have reached our destination, but our journey is only just beginning. I bid you pray to Ashla within this circle, and our prayers combined may draw out some of the ancient power of this ruin."

Geiseric took to his knees in meditative prayer, gesturing for the others to join him. Ashla would soon hear their calls from this place of holy power, and she would know that her children were preparing to undertake their greatest quest in her name...

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Others approached the shrine.

Cedric, unaccustomed to not having his face veiled by his mask, had to make an active effort to seem interested. It was not that he couldn't feel the weight of this place. Thousands of generations had gathered here in times long past, giving their praise to the Ashla, and communing with the Living Force in ways most beings could only ever dream of. Each soul had left a mark upon the ziggurat, be it physical or ethereal. The empyrean here was alight with energy - when Cedric closed his eyes and saw the world in the way a spirit might, he envisioned a bridge spanning from the peak of the temple stretching up toward the very heavens.

The temple was a link between the mortal realm, and that of the immaterium. If ever he was to commune wholly with the Ashla, this would be the place, yet even still his dark thoughts remained.

Isla Draellix-Kobitana 's words pulled him from his stupor. "A bit melancholic I must admit," he mused, giving the admiral a small smile. He'd only spoken to the woman outside of the command structure a handful of times, but her service on Ninn and other worlds had marked her as capable. Women like her were desperately needed throughout the crusade, particularly in command, though Cedric was uncertain if he could trust her in a personal sense.

"Well, perhaps not melancholic as much as nostalgic. I have dreamed of this admiral," he gestured out toward the night, to see small seas of lanterns and beacons of glowing blades that slowly made their way toward the temple. "Of bringing my people together once more, but most of those that I'd wanted to stand with me at this place are gone. Either dead, walking different paths, or seeing me through the eyes of an enemy. It is a...bittersweet feeling."

His thoughts stretched toward Dak , Ryv , Loske Treicolt , DARKCOM , Jaster Awaud , Romi Jade , WolfMortum , Prennis Keeoli , so many others...

The temple bells rung out as a procession drew near. The ringing momentarily pulled Cedric from his tirade. "But that is irrelevant. This is a holy day, and a time of rejuvenation. There isn't much place for nostalgia here." The exile shook his head as if to shake away the unpleasant thoughts. "Are we nearly ready to begin?"

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Tags: Cedric Grayson Tristan Evore Pietro Demici

Isla looked thoughtful, honoured by the openness of her leader. Too many leaders thought themselves gods, his melancholy and lament for his lost allies made him seem more human, this was something that people would respect after being led my the Sith who would be willing to show no such humility.

“Lord Grayson, I have practised the Ashlan faith since I was a girl, and I feel like we are on the cusp of something great. What I have been taught is those that we have lost, continue to look over us, and would be very proud of what has been achieved.” She smiled at him, he had the face of someone weary from battle, he did not have the luxury of thousands of tons of durasteel between him and the enemy like she did. Isla did not envy the task of people that fought the way he did, the stories she heard from her marine commanders always impressed her, it is why she fought hard to make sure her marines were well taken care of when she helped design Ashlan naval policy.

She looked at her timepiece, hung from a chain off of her coat, a gift given by her parents on the day she was commissioned, it was a very old fashioned clockwork piece, but it kept the time as well as any digital clock. It was time to begin.

“I will make the opening statement and introduce you, good luck my lord”

Isla walked, out, with a few presses on her datapad the carefully choreographed lighting and droid programs kicked in, she approached the podium and looked out at the faces in front of her.

“My dear friends, followers of Ashlan and honoured guest, welcome. We stand together at renewal of our faith and our nation. Today, we have gathered, dignitaries from many worlds and from different walks of life to proceed with a common goal, the foundation of a government, and to determine a charter that we will offer to those who wish to be free of the shackles imposed on them by the Sith.” she paused to take breath “We have many things to discuss, but first, it is my great honour to introduce the architect of our shared future, Lord Cedric Grayson.” She paused for a moment more, before stepping to her own podium, leading the applause .​

 

[The Confessor]

To put lightly that he felt...different was an understatement. Renair Naki, now known as simply the Confessor, had changed. Since the assault against the Warlords of the Sith, he had went through a Metamorphosis and a melding of the minds. Kronos, the first Lorekeeper and the one that created the curse, was now residing soley in his mind. Each one almost created a constant tension among each other, each one providing knowledge and abilities the other had learned through the course of their life. It had become to both their conclusion, rather dangerous to stay near any users of the Light Side of the Force till they can reach some form of agreement. To that end, they kept their distance till they figure out...what they had become.

In the outskirts of the temple where all the delegates were meeting, primitives' tribes were starting to join forces together. Their reasoning for this was still unknown though with Renair Naki, he had learned Tuskens would do the same thing to band with a Warlord for a massive assault. For the last two days, the Confessor had taken drastic steps to learn of their plans and their movements, almost taking a seclusive approach from the rest of the Ashlan Crusade. Since the meeting was soon to begin, or possibly even had begun, the Confessor decided to make the first move.

The Confessor would start walking in the large forested jungles around him, hearing the noise of unknown creatures around them and the snapping of twigs, branches breaking around him. Stopping in the middle, Confessor would start to slowly undo the front of his robe, putting his hands on the belt loops around his pant leggings. Hearing them all start to emerge, these species that he could not accurately describe, he spoke out with the knowledge of Kronos swirling in his mind as they approached with spears.

"Wonderful day we are having."

There was an almost an instant recoil of fear and surprise all at once. Standing right in the middle, he would look forward and start to turn his head to look at each one of them. The Confessor had spoken his language, spoken it to the right tone and got their attention quickly. When one started to approach a bit closer, the Pureblood Sith merely touched the tip of the spear as it disintegrated completely into dust. Speaking again, he would stare directly into the one that dared to move closer towards him.

"We won't need these...I wish to speak to your Warlord."

 

[Heinrich Faust]

Location: The pilgrim's path

Tags: Geiseric , Vyrien Paskal

The pilgrims continued their journey through the woods, along a path so ancient that one could only guess at who had laid down the original stone. Much of the trip had been spent in silence, with most of the pilgrims relying on the subtleties of inner reflection as they progressed to the holy site.

Heinrich appreciated this time, in the company of others that had been so devoted to following in the steps of Ashla's light. He had spent so much time dwelling on the wars that they faced, as well as the inevitable ones to come. So much time concentrated on eradicated the Bogan... he had almost lost touch with what they were fighting for. His own mind had been feeling rather clouded as of late, often becoming distracted with the trappings of their current situation within the galaxy. Many days were spent pouring over battle plans, troop movements, supply line maintainance, and fighting... so much fighting. Were he less devoted, Heinrich may have given up.

But he was devoted, both to Cedric, and to the light that guided him. He knew with every fiber of his being that their cause was a just one. Despite this, he often found himself yearning for a time when he could be at peace. Perhaps he would have that tonight, if only for this one, blessed night.

As they approached the site, Geiseric knelt, inviting the others to join him in prayer. The man was clearly one of deep devotion, a quality that Heinrich was thankful to be in the presence of. He was pleased to see others of such faith on this spiritual journey, and felt more at home than ever in their presence.

He quietly took to his knees next to Geiseric, preparing to join in the prayer to Ashla. He began clearing his mind, syncing his breathing up with the others around the circle. Reaching out to Ashla's light, he began to pray.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The admiral's words were initially unwelcome, but Cedric found himself deciding that they were comforting all the same. He might not have had his old friends standing at his side, but he was not alone. The Ashla was with him as it had ever been, her eternal light guiding his footsteps, girding his heart in holy armor to withstand the pains that would follow the war to come. Beyond that were her followers, his brethren, his kin by any other name. The family of his blood might well have been lost, but these people were his family in faith, an equally powerful institution.

As Isla Draellix-Kobitana spoke her piece, Cedric felt the melancholy melting away from his soul. Renewed purpose stood in its place, ushering Cedric to his feet, and to his place at the head of the gathered Crusaders.

As a man, he was nothing more than a soldier and politician, but through the Ashla's will he was a beacon of the Light: a living tool through which the Ashla brought its desires to fruition.

"Thank you admiral," he offered Isla a respectful nod as he took his place alongside her, gray eyes narrowed into pinpricks of flint as he examined the masses. So many people from so many different races and cultures brought together for the dual purposes of serving the Ashla and expunging the Sith. The sight of them gave rise to pride that burned in Cedric's chest.

"We have celebrated our first victories against the great enemy, brothers and sisters. It is now, with new lands and peoples brought beneath our banners, that we must transform from an army with a state, to a state with an army. Today we announce the legality of our nation, and prepare a convention to decide upon the structure of that nation. Our will be a realm ruled by the light of the Ashla. Ours will be a holy realm."

Some of the more zealous present cheered at that. Cedric could not help but crack a small grin in response. "I announce my intention to reclaim the crown of Ession, and to further claim all territories of the lost Essonian Dominion. My ancestors once ruled this entire sector of space under the holy mantle of the Kaissereich. I intend to do so again under the divine mandate hoisted upon my dynasty by the Ashla. All of the Tingel Arm is an Ashlan birthright!"

The applause ensued once again.

"The Ashlan Crusade will be reorganized into the first Holy Ashlan Kaissereich. We shall ensure peace, stability, and the extermination of all Sith teachings and culture within out ancestral lands. Ours is the true path!"

 

[Nar'Rator]

The large native looked as his spear disintegrated at the touch of the confessor. The man was tall and muscular but struggled to maintain his strong composure at this display. He was naked from the waist up and covered in crude tattoos, the confessor might recognise some of the symbols as crude but strangely modified versions of the Holy Symbol of Ashla.

"You have the touch of the saint" he finally announced "the warlord will grant you audience, you will come"

He made a symbol across his chest and led the confessor onward, deeper into the jungle. It would be an hours trek to the largest of the tribal camps, along the way the party will come across many raiding parts, wearing various tribal markings, but mostly still adorned with the strange version of the Ashlan symbol.

The Confessor​

 

[Tristan Evore]

Objective - Auspicious Occasion
Wearing - This
Tags - Cedric Grayson | Isla Draellix-Kobitana
​

"The only path" He muttered under his breath as the Kaiser proclaimed his vision. He exhibited relief at the initiative of his lord, evidenced by his shoulders and muscles throughout his entire body relaxing. He leaned forward on his podium, raising the glass triumphantly in the air as the Kaiser ended his speech.

He nodded politely to the Fleet Admiral once again, sending the woman the list of resources he had under his firm control - resources that would available to her now. With a grim smile, the Warlord abandoned his podium and strode with great precision to speak with the Kaiser directly.

"My Lord" He offered a distinct bow, hindered by his height. "It's been far too long"

​

 

[Pietro Demici]

Tags: Cedric Grayson , Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Tristan Evore

The gathering had a larger turnout than even Pietro had imagined. The faithful came in droves, eager to hear the future of their budding crusade. The movement had begun gaining serious traction, and Pietro found himself in awe at the wonder of it all. He offered brief thanks to Ashla for shining her light upon so many others as he made his way through the crowd.

Admiral Isla has proven to be incredibly useful, both on and off the field of battle. Her introduction was well-stated indeed, and did much to honor their courageous leader. Pietro wasn't very familiar with her, as they had only had limited interaction, but he made a mental note to become more acquainted in the near future. Effective speakers were a powerful tool, and such skills would indeed be greatly needed within the Crusade going forward.

As the floor was given to Cedric, Pietro listened attentively, taking each word in as the man spoke. His speech was delivered with the same unwavering strength and practical charisma that seemed to emanate off of the man. The part that really caught Pietro's attention, however, was the declaration of the new Holy Ashlan Kaissereich. There had been talks among those in the upper ranks of such a declaration, and though it was anticipated to happen soon, none were sure of when. Pietro began to cheer right along with the crowd, lost in the glorious moment of rapture presented by the united response.

This would be the beginning of a new age, for the Crusade, the Tingel Arm, and the galaxy as a whole.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Tags: Tristan Evore , Pietro Demici , E Eric Vales , Isla Draellix-Kobitana

There was much more to be said, but it was better left unspoken until later. The banalities of governance were not something the majority of those attending were interested in - they cared for worship, for proclamations of victory, and for the burgeoning Kaiserreich that Cedric intended to steward all of Sith space for the rest of eternity.

An empire forged in the faith of the Ashla to last a thousand years, perhaps even longer if they could keep things in check. His descendants would rule, and soon Ession would be reclaimed. Despite his private reservations, Cedric decided that they might very well finally be on the path to total victory over the Sith.

Another speaker rose to take his place, and Cedric quickly parted ways with the podium. He was only halted by Tristan Evore , a nearly forgotten face from several years ago. It was a rarity to see any loyalists from the core out this far - Emiery Athelon had nearly been the only one. "That is has Evore," the exile allowed himself a small smile, though it brimmed with warmth. "I see you've found your way home. Just sightseeing, or are you intending to stay?"

 

[Geiseric]

Objective: Pilgrimage
Heinrich Faust | Vyrien Paskal | OPEN

Hushed whispers filled the air. Each one prayed quietly, none to be heard in full by the others, but all to be heard clearly by Ashla.

Geiseric lowered his long white hair from its bun atop his head, letting it fall and conceal his face. Only the Force could see it now.

They had taken a long path to get here. Not only in this moment, to this place... but from the fall of the Imperium to their Crusade. He had not been back to Coruscant since. Deep within him something yearned to return to the Jedi Temple. He had not laid his eyes on its magnificence until many years into his training, and he had left it with bitterness in his heart. He tried not to carry with him the great animosity towards the Jedi Order that he had upon leaving. They too fought their fair share of the Bogan's minions with valor. Even so, he recognized that they would always be different, and the New Jedi Order was toeing a dangerous line.

The Sith waged total war among themselves over doctrine, and too many Jedi pretended like such a thing could never occur to them. Perhaps there was a little bit of truth to such beliefs but Geiseric, feeling like an outsider looking in, saw things differently. The Jedi Order was just as broken and divided. Coruscant and Kashyyyk continued to bang their heads against the wall in attempts to unify, and any new interpretation of the Code was treated like a novelty in the moments before interest passed.

So stuck in their ways, yet Emotion, Ignorance, Passion, Chaos... nowhere more could they be found than in the New Jedi Order. As they fought the Sith, bringing them to their knees, so too do they become the Sith. Geiseric hoped and prayed that they could end this conflict before it consumed their brethren.

A moment of clarity, like Ashla's light had shone upon him, pulled him from being lost in those dark thoughts. To ease his mind, he began to hum the tune of a hymn, low and quiet. It was meditative to focus on nothing but the sound of his hum.

They had traveled a long road to get here, but the road continued on for untold miles, beckoning the faithful forward with no telling how long the road would be until they could rest again.