"The Dreamer"
1st Post
TAGS
Marcus Bastion
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Diarch Reign
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Dis
Ova Ziss
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Quinn Varanin
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Darth Malum of House Marr
'The Chief Justice enters - all rise!'
Entering into the Conference Hall from the front, thus assuring of his secure comfort to all the delegates from closer, sincere perspectives, the Central Appelate Court's very-own Chief Justice entered with grace and hushed greetings to the faces his lens-covered eyes could see at the time.
Soon to be rectified, but in the dim light of the evening sun, (aided just slightly by the podium-booth lamps of the attending delegations) Mitharranson would still find himself delighted by it's aesthetic charm; and for a brief spell of his approach to the adjudicating chair, Siyarr would feel a serene peace pass through him, almost slapping the Novanian across the face like a sudden shockwave. Remaining just long enough to leave a lasting impression of good fortune in the outcome of events still yet to unfold, but when the Senator recalled feeling an abject, contrasting opposite to the confidence he was feeling, the sudden loss of that nagging dread could not be ignored any longer.
Siyarr's very soul was being prepared for something above and beyond himself, and with all the teachings of his mentors still burning at the forefront of his mind, Mitharranson had no complaints to offer that which the Ancients were expecting him to endeavour. But this time, some-one, some-thing else would be listening that night, and these were primordial, prehistorical entities, gods with whom the Dreamer had not spoken since the latter years of his adolescence. Gods with whom his own were locked in a frozen, halted eternal conflict, still working toward a tentative ethereal peace at the time, but the Senator would keep it all up his sleeve for the right, opportune moment, and for the right, overcommitted adversary.
Protocols of which that steadily became second-nature to the Senator in his early tenure.
'I leave - the choice - to you!'
TAGS
Marcus Bastion
|
Diarch Reign
|
Dis
Ova Ziss
|
Quinn Varanin
|
Darth Malum of House Marr
'The Chief Justice enters - all rise!'
Soon to be rectified, but in the dim light of the evening sun, (aided just slightly by the podium-booth lamps of the attending delegations) Mitharranson would still find himself delighted by it's aesthetic charm; and for a brief spell of his approach to the adjudicating chair, Siyarr would feel a serene peace pass through him, almost slapping the Novanian across the face like a sudden shockwave. Remaining just long enough to leave a lasting impression of good fortune in the outcome of events still yet to unfold, but when the Senator recalled feeling an abject, contrasting opposite to the confidence he was feeling, the sudden loss of that nagging dread could not be ignored any longer.
Siyarr's very soul was being prepared for something above and beyond himself, and with all the teachings of his mentors still burning at the forefront of his mind, Mitharranson had no complaints to offer that which the Ancients were expecting him to endeavour. But this time, some-one, some-thing else would be listening that night, and these were primordial, prehistorical entities, gods with whom the Dreamer had not spoken since the latter years of his adolescence. Gods with whom his own were locked in a frozen, halted eternal conflict, still working toward a tentative ethereal peace at the time, but the Senator would keep it all up his sleeve for the right, opportune moment, and for the right, overcommitted adversary.
'Please be seated, my right-honorable delegates of the Second Hirkenburg Conference. We announce commencement at - roughly - Nine, fifty-five PM local time! Good!'
His backside was still a fair few paces away by the time commencement was marked, showing an almost rushed sense of urgency the previous conference lacked, but when Siyarr eventually exclaimed,'First article on the docket - a Fitting Strategic Response to the Mawsworn Presence in the Vicondor System!', there would be no illusions as to why Mitharranson was in such a rush that evening. Yet in his apparent rush, there was nothing hindering the meeting's commencement, and with a rehearsed precision that could only have been expressed by a man of Shamanic devotion, the adherence to procedural norms would not be broken.
'In light of the situation, and the unique circumstances that befall us, I understand the trepidation of proceeding without the beligerent delegations in attendance, especially if our inaction could mean disastrous consequences in immediate and distant futures alike.... But I, personally, would prefer we focus solely on keeping the Mawsworn fleet fixed and kettled; unable to invade, unable to retreat, unable to migrate across Imperial borders.'Protocols of which that steadily became second-nature to the Senator in his early tenure.
'I leave - the choice - to you!'
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