Dominion In the Lions Den| NIO Dominion of Galidraan

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"So there I am, right, walking up through the hospital entrance, and I can just hear Erskine shouting even though I'm twelve floors down and he's all the way at the end of his wing. It's ridiculous the lungs on the man."

"Aye, Sar'andor, that's oor Barran!"

"Had he broken oot the window, yet?"
​

"Yer tellin' me that the Brigadier-General was stuck in a hospital for weeks an a' he'd done was yell?"
​

Cotan grinned at the others in the vehicle. Technically, he really, really wasn't supposed to be in it, so close to the start of the parade. If he was found, no doubt the soldiers of the battallion would have hell to pay, and he'd probably be lucky to make his escape without a squad of stormtroopers firing stun blasts at him, and that was for the best case scenario. Still, he couldn't resist trying to crash the festivities in his own way, spreading a few mostly harmless rumors, although he planned to at least be out by the time the parade began.

Planned.

"Well, that wasn't all—I did also hear him complaining about a procedure they refused to do, just something to take care of while he was in there, something other than shrapnel he wanted removed. Turns out, apparently he's got a bit of an impressive tattoo of a certain Lord's daugh—"

He found himself, rather unfortunately, cut off at the command of "quick march" coming from the speakers. The others in the tank looked about themselves nervously, even as the driver started up the engine and it began to move. "Well, lads, how about that?" he said after a moment. He leaned back in the seat he'd taken, careful to keep his face out of any of the viewports. "Seamus, I'd suggest picking up your elbow. Don't want to accidentally activate the comms and let them all know I'm here."

The youngest man in the vehicle drew his arms in quickly, with a bit of a sheepish look to his face. The mood in the rest of the tank seemed to ease up, though, as they all started ribbing the young man for his careless posture. "Well, Cotan, whit's yoor plan now?" the tank commander, sergeant Bowman, asked, and the Je'daii gave a shrug.

"Do we still have any of that Glenluath Sixteen you made off with from your uncle's family, Fearghal? None of you tell Erskine, but I might actually like that more—for an every-day drinker, anyways—than the Cladhan." With some laughs, they passed the bottle his way, and he sank deeper into his seat. Time to enjoy some whiskey, let the boys have their parade, and hope to the Force he didn't get seen.

​

Cotan stretched when he finally had the chance to adjust his posture, sure that they were all past the watchful eyes near Willan Tal's podium. "Well, that was the smoothest ride I've had in one of these yet," he commented, to further laughs from the group within. "Aye, nicer than ridin' wi' Erskine on the field, I bet!" came Seamus's voice, and the others all voiced their agreements. The nerves were still there, though. Especially so for Cotan; he'd been too late to hop out, because that would've made too much of a spectacle. But no doubt, with Rurik Fel so close at hand—he'd been able to sense the man not far away when the vehicle had gone past Tal's podium—Cotan hadn't managed to go by entirely unnoticed.

Between whatever Vaulkhar had shared about him, whatever Erskine had shared about him, general reputation, and hopefully a healthy amount of good will, hopefully he could keep the tank crew from facing any repercussions for his presence, given that he hadn't been revealed as being present in front of anybody of import. "Alright, boys, let me know once we get to a good point away from view of anybody important and I'll make my way out." That suggestion was, as expected, immediately met with looks of alarm. Cotan held up a hand, cutting off any possible protestation immediately.

"Yes, I know you're to continue this parade all through Calavar. However, I don't want to be here after you're done and get you in trouble in any way, and since I haven't been seen by any of the important people that could probably see through my next plan, I think about now is the best time to make my exit. Sergeant Bowman, make me some space where you're standing, will you? Try to look natural about it, and keep as straight a face as you can."

Bowman, standing up from the commander's hatch, gave no verbal sign that he'd heard—but his position shifted just slightly, and he tapped his toes twice to show where he wanted Cotan to spring up, all an implicit signal that right there was a good spot to exit. He was glad for the man; while the others in the tank were relatively new, Bowman had been present on Ziost, and he had a good idea of the sorts of things someone like Cotan could manage. "Alright, boys, it's been a great time. Now, just make sure to keep quiet, keep a straight face, all of that. I'll be seeing you."

And with his trademark smirk, he wrapped his hand around the powerful Force-connected crystal he kept in one pocket, and disappeared entirely from sight. Seamus couldn't help but give a short gasp and a laugh, but the others maintained relaxed smiles. Cotan crawled up quickly, squeezing tightly to keep from jostling Bowman around as he climbed up into the tank commander's space and out of his hatch, standing, invisibly, atop the tank, already starting to feel the exertion of maintaining such total invisibility press in on his mind's edges.

"Be seeing you," he said, again, in Bowman's ear, before spying a building that was reasonably short and just close enough. He crouched down, gathering in yet more energy, and leaped; he tucked his legs into his chest and flipped forwards, narrowly avoiding the top of a flag pole, before landing atop the building in question. It was almost a shame that he was invisible, given that he was rather impressed with the leap, himself. From there it was a quick matter of climbing down, finding a small alley out of sight, and releasing himself from the invisibility.

He wiped at his brow, the back of his hand coming away damp with sweat. "I don't know how so many of them make it look so easy," he complained under his breath. Thankfully, he wasn't drenched. Nor had he dropped the bottle of whisky that he left the tank with; likely Fearghal wouldn't notice for a while either that his pilfered goods had been pilfered again. "Now. Time to make my way back to that central grounds, see if I can't find Erskine, give him my own congratulations." He could, ostensibly, be considered a dignitary, given his role with the Judges and the agreements he'd been working out with Tavlar before his death.

Just had to hope that Erskine wouldn't be having a meeting with Rurik Fel or anything ridiculous like that.

DECEASED Erskine Barran Willan Tal Rurik Fel

 

[Daina Bragg]

Lieutenant Bragg
Objective IIA: No King Rules Forever
Castle Vykern, Seat of House Geyer
Tag(s): Waymar Geyer

Bragg flushes another power pack into her weapon. Its' barrel radiated an omnipresent crimson glow now and sizzled loudly. Her speech on the comlink was punctuated by the sound of wild blaster fire and the vanquished cries of robed Assassins. "Geyer, you're not hearing what I'm saying!" Lieutenant Bragg's composure and soldierly demeanour were gone. What remained was the voice of a woman narrowly surviving every second. "My teams are combat ineffective. We're in no position to seize control of this Castle. I can't hail reinforcements down here. We'll need the transmitter power from the shuttles."

For goodness sake, will this zealot listen to reason!? Daina thought to herself wordlessly and cursed the force and lot of Imperial Knights for their obscene mysticism. Given a reprieve from the shrieking fanatics that try so doggedly to end her life, Daina breathes. "I'm extracting now. I'll see if I can locate the two stragglers from my team on the way up. Bragg Out." A pair of locked doors give Daina pause. She regards them for a moment. It was odd they were unlocked and open earlier. Leaving Daina to wonder if the Sith had closed them in an attempt to stop her escape? Pressing palm against the holographic circle hovering over the door's centre where its' seam met, she began wading through its' security.

 

[Enedina Tal]

Enedina Tal|New Imperial Order|Galidraan
Tags: Roselina Tal

"What do you think?" Enedina dryly remarked, looking back at the parade and back at her sister. Of course, he was; he'd spent years in exile fighting to get to this point, a point in which he would ascend and become the greatest Galidraani military figure in recent memory. He craved glory, as did everyone else, so did Enedina until the realities of war and the years spent hiding in trenches and bunkers took their toll on her. Those were harsh wake-up calls for anyone, but it hit the hardest more than anything in the world for her. But that was her reality, and she had chosen it blindly.

"I just want to go to the old home and rest, and look forward to not waking up to the sound of artillery and men scrambling for cover."

The latter was a lie; sooner or later, she'd be called to service once more. Anything for home, though, right?​

 

[Ishida Ashina]

OBJECTIVE ONE | GALIDRAAN | CALAVAR CITY
STORIES ARE LIGHT, AND
LIGHT IS PRECIOUS IN A WORLD SO DARK.
Aiko Hayata

​

~Tenacity and a unified vision.~ She surmised.

Ishida shifted at Aiko's words. The Third Imperial War was filled with narratives of endurance and defiance. It built people into hardened warriors and soldiers; a long-term plight and struggle that made warriors out of wannabes.

~At least they finish their wars if they don't finish their words.~ The Atrisian simpered, folding her hands in her lap. Her delicate features, stark white hair, and fine silks were contrasting enough to the roughness all around them. Her language was another divider between them, but she did it mostly out of respect for Lady Hayata.

~You've met some?~ She repeated, "Have you met the Blue-Hearts?" For a moment, she transitioned in dialect but swiftly corrected herself. Didn't matter, any of the surrounding officials who might have overheard would have been curious about the same thing. The Galidraani warriors were well renowned for their esteemed triumphs and ability to make insubordination look appealing.

~They sound like tenacious fighters, formidable swordsmen even.

Shame they choose to hide behind technology and are so reliant on their tanks.~

 

[Rika Hiro]

Asa Yubari|Galidraan|Calavar streets
Tags: Konrad Harrsk

​

​

"Because it conveniences us at this point in time to do so, Tal's rabble are valuable and were a crucial part of causing the Sith collapse in the Parlemian trade route."

And it was true; his ragtag band turned real army of countrymen had provided valuable cannon fodder and combat support during the latter half of the Third Imperial Civil war, routing the Sith forces in several brutal infantry engagements and funding a terror campaign in the Parlemian trade route which made the Galidraan system and the overall route nearly ungovernable for Sith forces to maintain. It was what prompted the collapse of pro-Sith Galidraan elements so quickly; they had simply had the will to fight sapped out of them. And fighting your own people proved a difficult prospect, even for the most hardened Sith puppet. Funnily enough, Tal's forces seemingly had no issue; they had killed as many of their own as they did Sith troops. But as was the case, the victor wrote the history books and that detail would be cleanly scrubbed out to sanitise Tals image for future generations.


She smirked, tilting her head at Konrad in bemusement at the fact he even questioned the agency. Yubari handed the trigger over to Konrad with a shrug and turned to the wheel.

"The targets going to turn the corner of this junction in a minute, you may have the privilege, then we must depart understood?"​

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

Calavar Streets // Galidraan
Rika Hiro​

Konrad took the offered trigger with feigned reluctance.

"That they were." a wicked smirk slowly began to cross his lips, growing wider and wider with each word he would utter. "As was their duty to the Empire." his eyes bemusingly caressed the trigger, "I do not know how much of my father's imprint there is in your programming - if any - but clearly whoever has taken the reigns of COMPNOR is either working to erase what Jaeger has lived to build or is... grossly incompetent."

"In simple words -- an idiot. My father... COMPNOR was his tool to form an Empire without these petty, small-minded ambitions and squabbles of lowly warlords who see nothing beyond their nose. For all my qualms I have with Jaeger, this is something we both agreed on. There can be only one crown in the realm." he turned his eyes to the replicant, electricity crackling from the gauntlet holding the trigger. "So as far as this privilege goes, Asa Yubari--"

"--divide et impera." he squashed the trigger to bits as Donovan's speeder carried on safely into the distance.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

"I'll keep it in mind," Fiolette stated politely, by that point she and Theodosia had departed the cafe and had traveled by foot to the metro. "But know that I do not plan on ruffling feathers, I'll do what I can to keep the peace." Theodosia didn't respond she merely gave a nod of acknowledgment, and within the next moment, she was gone. Just as she had arrived, Theodosia Crane disappeared she only vowed to meet with Fiolette later on. As for the former Lord Admiral, she didn't like the way Theodosia spoke but the fact that she had been talking to the leader of the Daughters of Eve so openly. Sharing her concern for the future of Galidraan, well. It was a flag to Fiolette that something of a certain disturbance was afoot.

The metro took Fiolette from the heart of the Monarchists' world to Calavar where Tal had laid claim to the people here. If there were those who were anything but nationalists they didn't speak about it. Calavar had changed just as much as Galidraan had, and when compared to Dosuun it was darker still. Dosuun. She thought, a world built on the old ways, it is Galidraan in another life.

Celebrations were ongoing, the parade, the marches, and speeches were of no interest to Fiolette. Rather than take to the pubs in Calavar, she instead went to her hotel room. The Grand Crown Hotel was in the upper end of the city and much to her benefit she held the topmost suite. High above most of the parades and the cheering. Her body felt sore and as she set down the tablets and documents, her briefcase she looked at them as they sat haphazardly on the dresser. Such was the state of Galidraan, organized and neatly put together but a mess on the inside.

Retiring to her bedroom, the woman wondered how long could Galidraan keep on its charade. How long would she be willing to pretend to like Willan Tal, if only to keep the peace? A question she didn't necessarily want to answer, so instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and slowly rolled onto the mattress letting her body relax within its comforts.

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Cotan Sar'andor

​

Bleed for the Empire they certainly did. At the mention of his name and newfound title, Rurik raised his right hand in a gesture of salute and respect to the troopers of Galidraan, continuing to watch the patriotic display in placid fascination. As much as he held a nigh paternal affection for the Empire, bleeding for it all his own and paying a toll in flesh and bone to the Iron Sun- there was no means by which he could flaunt his nationalism as they could. He was not nearly as animated...not nearly as human in the flesh.

The parade was an awe worthy spectacle, for the presentation of arms of a single planet, their pride, culture and tradition was shown in rampant stride. Even...if he could sense...something 'off' in its midst. But in contrast to what had disturbed the New Order in the past, it was hardly a malicious malfeasance. No...merely Cotan Sarandor. For now, there was hardly anything the Jedi could do to hamper the revelry of this event in all its scale and thus, he left the case undisturbed.

As Willan turned to him, Rurik offered a nod in acknowledgement to the Lord Protector.

"Insurgencies aside, Galidraan is yours now, Lord Protector. The spectacle was certainly worthy of awe. You should be proud of the men and women who sacrificed for this prize. Unfortunately...it is not the last expected of them...but in all they have given, the know the cost." Rurik stated.

"Some more than others." He said before eventually, the other man of the hour, Erskine Barran arrived to join the two. Rurik offered him a nod all the same before speaking up.

"General Barran. I believe we've shared the field of battle several times before. I do hope you enjoy the celebration here, I'm sure it is good to be home. But...there is one matter of business I must settle with you before I can allow you to return to the revelry of your countrymen." Rurik said, slowly approaching the Blue Heart.

"I'm afraid you are hardly deserving of the rank of which you have been serving with, General. Thus...I do not see you fit for it any longer." Rurik said, eventually reaching into his cloak to produce a baton of black and gold, decorated with Galidraani and Imperial symbolism.

"Thus...I hereby promote you to the rank of Lord General of the New Imperial Army. The highest commanding rank below myself and the Lord Executor. Your valor, your diligence, your drive for victory and contempt for danger have not gone unseen, not by me, not by Galidraan, not by the Empire. And thus, you are far overdue for the respect such actions are deserving of. And so...I offer you this because you are one of the very few ever deserving of the command and responsibility the rank deserves. Take it- and show your people that when they send their sons and daughters to war, it is their own that lead them through the breach...as no one would be better fitting. Thank you for all that you have done, the Empire is eternally grateful , each day of your service brings us one step closer to a Galaxy under order, Lord General." Rurik says, offering the Lord General's baton to the man before him.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

6th Post
THE_WOAD
Location: HOME
OBJECTIVE : COMPLETE THE TRIUMPH

Galidraani Forces: Willan Tal Berach Ulrand Enedina Tal Roselina Tal Morgana Sinclair Tyrell Lockhart
DECEASED Aron Gowrie Michael Barran Legate Amadeus Blackwood Arcturus Tal Hiran Avola Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran Alais Kaun Ollis Barran Konrad Bolter The Fool Ajaya

Allies (NIO/GA): Rurik Fel Noel Strasza Aemilio Valaar Jax Sloane Cotan Sar'andor Julius Haskler Raus Garrat

Calavar City,
Galidraan
Twenty Minutes into the Victory Parade....

'Greetings, Milord. The Lord-Protector said to find him down the hall here to the right, and that's about it.'

'More than enough information for me, Sergeant. I know where he'll be in any case. Thanks.', Lord Erskine responded upon entry, slightly projecting his voice over the hubbub of the crowd outside and upstairs. Then, in less than a minute, Barran found himself face to face with other DT-guards who recognised him from a distance, both by features and by the sound of his booming, Woadish voice, stepping in with their inward pushes of the double-door entrance to the lounge Lord Erskine's superiors were waiting in. Making two steps inside, before the double-doors were closed behind him by the guards standing on the inside of the lounge's entrance for doubled-security assurances, the Brigadier-General stood to attention; executing a fist-over heart salute with pointed bowing gestures directed to both Tal and Fel before straightening his posture properly again, with arms kept downward and straight in perfect parade-ground form, acquitting himself with devoted professionalism, and long after his ceremonial part in the parade had been played.

'Some more than others.', the Imperator was heard saying when the doors had been opened, noticing that the one he was there to see specifically had finally arrived from his parade-ground obligations to Lord Willan and the people. As soon as the bowing salutes were performed, Fel would nod his silent direct greetings before framing his next response, straightening his posture and walking towards Barran as he continued,'General Barran. I believe we've shared the field of battle several times before. I do hope you enjoy the celebration here, I'm sure it is good to be home. But...there is one matter of business I must settle with you before I can allow you to return to the revelry of your countrymen.', with the same martial prowess he retained when he was still Irveric Tavlar's Lord-Executor. Impressive, and charismatic he most certainly was, and yet Rurik still left Erskine in a state of polite confusion and general cluelessness in relation to why the Imperator was there in the first place, though nothing would ever prepare the Woad for what happened next.

'I'm afraid you are hardly deserving of the rank of which you have been serving with, General. Thus...I do not see you fit for it any longer.'

Pulling an unseen item from within his cloak, the Imperator would slowly bring a black and gold work of decorative beauty into view, revealing a traditional signifier of specific Imperial rank-and-status of the likes that was believed by the Stormchaser to have been reserved for commanders of much greater renown than that which Lord Erskine had been carving out for himself. The famous Lord General's baton, dreamily coveted by almost every rising star in Imperial military-history, though like Barran, some of the baton's recipients had served their entire careers believing it was fanciful thinking to dream of attaining the rank (along with the era-specific batons that accompanied the promotion) of Lord General, only to be rewarded in complete surprise like that which was being experienced by Lord Erskine in that moment. With eyes appraising the craftsmanship in the design, Barran noticed symbols of Imperial and Galidraani origin, interwoven with the tastefully-blended traditional ethno-patterns from Galidraan I and III respectively, becoming utterly spellbound by it as he continued to marvel at how much care had went into tailor-fitting it to the Woad's cultural and military background.

'Thus...I hereby promote you to the rank of Lord General of the New Imperial Army. The highest commanding rank below myself and the Lord Executor. Your valor, your diligence, your drive for victory and contempt for danger have not gone unseen, not by me, not by Galidraan, not by the Empire. And thus, you are far overdue for the respect such actions are deserving of. And so...I offer you this because you are one of the very few ever deserving of the command and responsibility the rank deserves. Take it- and show your people that when they send their sons and daughters to war, it is their own that lead them through the breach...as no one would be better fitting. Thank you for all that you have done, the Empire is eternally grateful , each day of your service brings us one step closer to a Galaxy under order, Lord General.'

Every hair on the back of his neck was standing on end once more, and in this moment, Lord Erskine couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming, but when he graciously accepted the baton and gripped it into his left hand, the Stormchaser's goosebumps went into overdrive, instilling a hyperrealism that cast what looked and felt like a warm, rippling glow over everything around him and outside. Although it would appear as any other day to those around him, Barran could feel every little nuance of his superiors' movements, the flutter of the leaves on the vines outside the window, the wobble of the glass as a strong gust beat against the windows and tossed up the curtains with it, all of it was washing over the Woad-Born General like a narcotic rush. The realization that this meant no longer having a Galidraani array at his disposal didn't seem to matter, as even in this moment of moments, Lord Erskine realised that there were plenty decent candidates for the army's increasingly-prestigious rank of Lord-Commander, though none quite stood out as much as Aron Gowrie and Tyrell Lockhart did in this thought-process.

'Looks like you'll be needin' a new warhound, Milord. Don't stop rising though, you've still got some ascension left in ye. I guarantee it.'

Turning back to the Imperator after his personal encouragements towards the Lord-Protector, the newly-promoted Lord-General of the New Imperial Army would straighten his posture and look his leader in the eye, kicking every semblance of bittersweet in his joy as he finally responded,'Then on behalf of my Lord-Protector, my people, and my family - I will accept this baton, the rank and the duties that accompany honours such as these. Thus, as a former Brigadier-General of the Galidraani Free-State, I will assume my role as Lord-General of the New Imperial Army henceforth.', swapping his baton to the right hand to properly fist-over-heart salute with it. In a strong bowing motion, Barran would close his eyes with ceremonious sincerity, beating back tears as his posture straightened once more. From there, the Stormchaser's posture would relax slightly as he swapped the baton back to his left hand to shake that extended by the Imperator, endearingly concluding,'Lord-General Barran, at your service.', as the hand-swapped baton itself pointed out the table Rurik had been seated at beforehand.

Weston-on-Thames, Calavar Province,
Galidraan
4 Hours Before the Victory Parade....

'Something smells nice downstairs anyway, you awake yet- Oh.... Erskine, there you are! How much sleep did you get then?', Lady Carla asked stretching her arms high above her head before she unleashed a sleepy-eyed groan of combined exertion and relief, smiling as she made eye contact with the freshly-showered, half-dressed chieftain of Clan Barran. Seeing the Stormchaser holding up four fingers as his answer, the darling of the Highlands nodded her satisfaction at the amount of hours Lord Erskine had been able to rest for, especially with the distant fanfare considered in the possible hindrances to that process, muttering,'Good.', in the knowledge that her husband would have all the energy for the day's proceedings. Unlike Erskine, Carla knew her own day would be spent in therapeutic bliss in contrast to the complex drill-movements and the warmth of the sun beating down on the Stormchaser's head that was expected in her absence. But first, both Barrans needed their fuel for their activities, and Lady Carla could smell it in the pastries baking downstairs, and knowing that her husband could quickly run down for some, the loving wife set her mind to showering and looking pretty as she took in the sunrise, distracted as Erskine had been before her.

'Darling, please be a dear an' get us something from the bakery downstairs. Bit o' savoury, bit o' sweet sound good?'

'Perfect!'