Dominion Starbird | GA Dominion of Coruscant

[Amea Virou]

Maynard Treicolt // Loske Treicolt

“Well, someone had to represent my people, I figured.” Amea played against the man’s comment on her apparel and brushed the shoulder strap of her recently-washed tank top. A confident if not outright smug smile beamed from her. “Pretty sure I lower the standards in here by at least a solid ten percent.”

And naturally, as couples do, they bowed off and did that whole… Things that couples do and get all, “No you’re the one, no you are the one” on one another. Sweet as it was, Amea had to turn away and look around the room to keep herself from throwing up. Even if it was just for the little while.

At that moment it was more apparent than ever that while she’d joked that her outfit alone was substandard for this occasion, it really wasn’t a joke at all. She got looks from most who seemed to pass by. Some who clearly wished they were as comfortable as her while others seemed… A bit less enthralled by Amea’s evident lack of care for what they’d call a ‘crime against fashion.’ In the Core, at least. But hey, blue and black was practically a match made in heaven and she was not one to let anyone else tell her otherwise.

As the couple continued their… Whatever they were doing she began to take note of who was around. A few faces that seemed familiar. In one corner a familiar Soldier Girl Allyson from the space around Oswaft and in the other she swore she saw… Oh right, no, it had been a while since Kristoff had gotten himself dishonorably discharged for losing his cool during a drill. Even so he had always made a point to wear his finest uniform whenever he could. Enough so that Amea figured that maybe he just liked the whole stick-up-my-rear look, or a fascination for camouflage that transcended what even she considered normal. Either way, the man had dropped from her network of Inner Core contacts a long while ago by now.

… She really ought to find a new one.

Eventually Maynard and Loske separated right before the man had to go up on stage. Amea gave him a thumbs up and a, “Good luck, don’t get too nervous up there or something.” A few words meant to inspire just as much as they were meant to set him up for disaster while Loske and Amea were left alone to watch him ascend the podium and hold his speech.

With their newfound privacy Amea felt the question that had been burning against the back of her mind for a while now resurface. The jovial smile on her lips faded as she stopped clapping with the crowds. The sensation of pain, of something being very wrong had struck her recently in a way she had only experienced through her bond. Yet Runi was the only one she had thought it to be, and she had been perfectly fine. Amea lowered her hands and turned to look towards Loske, her mouth practically ready to ask if she knew what it could have been.

Yet, Loske turned around to point out there was a piece of glitter on Amea’s nose and almost in an instant she snapped out of it. She dragged her hand against her nose and face to swipe it away. The rigtheous blue glitter of the Alliance sparkled in the lights to remind her of what it was that she herself had just said barely a few minutes ago. Today was a day for festivities and good spirits. The forgotten past could wait until another day, it wasn’t exactly going anywhere.

A wide grin spread on the brunette woman’s lips before she smeared the glitter off against Loske’s shoulder in a sign of friendship and equal bother. If she thought that was the only amount of glitter that would stick to her at the end of the day then, oh wow, was she misinformed.

“I mean, it’s not everyday that interstellar governments unite into one, so it makes sense.” Amea said in regards to Loske’s apparent parade inexperience. “Although I have to admit, this parade and festival thing is a very… Core-like concept. Grand and opulent displays of good fortunes is a bit more of a rarity in my corner of the galaxy, after all.”

Amea took a deep breath and looked back at the stage where Maynard still stood.

“You two are very cute together, by the way.” She leaned in with a whisper as if to not overshadow Maynard’s presence on the podium. “Just remember, that offer is still up there. If he ever becomes too much, or has to go...” She raised her recently-acquired fake-arm before her as if to prove a point. “I will gladly help a friend out.”

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Senate Plaza
Interacting With // Dracken Pryce Zahara Myneto Ava Cartwright-Pryce
Nearby // Arage Bao Imperial Warlord Zovesa
​

"I'm sure there will be many opportunities," he replies with a nod to the Corellian's whisper. His mouth stretches to a tight-lipped smile, silently agreeing that the subject should be changed. It was natural for his mind to wander toward business. Despite the pleasantries of the Unity Day festival, the Sith-Imperial Rebellion was the only thing on the old Admiral's mind. Ever since news of the Chancellor's decision came down to the Admiralty it had been all he could think about.

He nods to the question of the Lord-Admiral's speech, "I did, mostly. A strong and powerful woman, that Lord-Admiral. No doubt the Republic broke a sweat while trying to Humbarine in line." A snicker escapes him.

Realizing he'd failed to properly greet the High Admiral's company as she's introduced, Cassius offers the woman a subtle bow of his head, "Wing-Commander Cartwright, is it? A pleasure. Do you plan to keep flying with the Corellians, or join the federal Defense Force?"

The sudden arrival of Admiral Myneto among them interrupts their exchange. "Admiral," he responds, his tone flat and stern. He looks to Dracken at the question of which seat he'd be contending for, "You were born in the Core then? Tough times, I'm sure. But the High Admiral is correct; as this new Alliance grows, so too will the territories that look to us for protection. The need for a strong naval presence will only grow."

Just as his train of thought was about to take them back to the subject of war, the sight of the Chancellor returning to the podium silences him immediately. As he talks of hope, unity and starbirds, the Anaxsi can't help but hold his breath. Brentaal IV had left scars on many of his most hardened officers. His men had sacrificed their lives and minds to protect the freedoms of the Core Worlds.

As each of the names are listed off, he recalls the few of them that he knew. He had heard of the Jedi and Commando, and recalled meeting the Captain of Saber Squadron on at least one occasion.

"...High Admiral Cassius Callaesar of the Anaxsi Battlefleet..."

Cassius' eyes widen for a moment and a cold rush passes through him. He had not expected his name to be among those on the list. Composing himself, he glances to the small group gathered around him. "Well," he says with a smile, his pride overtaking him, "I suppose we will have to catch up later. And it looks like the drinks will be on me."

At that, he steps down to the front of the steps, lining up with the others as they arrive.

 

[Ryv]

​

// PARAGON // SWORD OF THE JEDI //
// CORUSCANT // GALACTIC CITY // TAKEN THE STAGE //
// FOR THE BOYS //
// FOCUS // Maynard Treicolt | Cassius Callaesar | Leon Gallo | Gat Tambor

---

---

When it came to trouble, Ryv always knew what he was getting into. One of the more unfortunate side effects of a Jedi's lifestyle had to be the almost constant quest to find as much trouble as humanly possible. Still, if it weren't for the recent bond established between the Corellian and Kiffar, he would've been somewhat surprised by her more forward actions. The connection between the duo, though fresh, fed a near-constant emotional feed from her to him. He could feel her response to each of his words just as much as he could see them, and to be entirely honest, Ryv felt similarly about it all. The unfortunate low he started the evening at took on a surprising turn, somehow elevated to a high like he hadn't felt in a long time. That high only grew at the brief kiss. ​

​

As she pulled away, Ryv met her gaze once more and flashed a grin dripping in raw confidence. He leaned forward as if to return the kiss, though a split-second before contact, he'd plant a peck on her cheek and mutter something to the Jedi Master before gently pushing past towards the stage. Seeing Maynard, Leon, Cassius, and THE Gat Tambor already gathered together, he felt enough time passed. If Gideon couldn't make it, the Jedi Knight couldn't blame him. Taking the stage to celebrate in the wake of fallen comrades wasn't for everyone. Climbing the steps to claim the stage, Ryv knew, if it weren't for Maynard's presence behind him, he wouldn't be up there either.​

​

The Sword of the Jedi took to the podium in silence, overlooking the gathered crowd of thousands, if not more. His hand fell to the Blade of Ruusan dangling from his belt, yearning for the overwhelming sense of calm it afforded him.​

​

"I would like to begin by thanking Chancellor Tagge and Vice-Chair Starseeker for the opportunity to come before all of you on this momentous occasion. From the beginning, both have shown nothing but support for the Jedi Order and its continued growth. Without them, I doubt the Jedi would see such trust and respect in the Core once again. For that," Ryv paused and turned from the crowd, facing both Emmen and Lisza. "Thank you both," he nodded his respect to both in turn before returning his gaze to the sea of faces staring back at him. "Those gathered behind me are not heroes. Maynard Treicolt, Gat Tambor, Cassius Callaesar, Leon Gallo, and the unfortunately absent Gideon Raith have shed blood, sweat, and tears for our grand Alliance. These men have done more than rising to the occasion in the face of great adversity time and time again, but they have outright squashed these threats. They are not just heroes," the Jedi Knight reiterated before turning away from the crowd once more, sweeping an arm out to motion at the gathered quartet. "These men are legends. And they will go down in the annals of history for their bravery, sincerity, and decisive action."​

​

Ryv smiled warmly, taking another brief pause to internalize this moment. For every failing in the galaxy, there is an even greater success. The Galactic Alliance proved that to the cosmos through the hard work of those such as the gathered four.​

​

"But before I continue, I would also like to take a moment to mention those who came before us," Ryv searched the crowd for one face, in particular, failing to find his former master among them. "The High Republic and the Grayson Imperium were the beginning of all this. Though each was different in their own regard, both believed wholeheartedly in bringing peace back to the Core. Our home faced turmoil at the hands of the One Sith for many years, followed only by Imperial Warlords and criminal organizations looking to pilfer and abuse her. Yet, through it all, she weathered the storm until those strong enough to rise overcame these destructive powers. If we moved on without honoring our forefathers, we would be doing a disservice to far too many."​

​

Reaching down to his side, Ryv unhooked the Blade of Ruusan from his belt and raised it into the air. He brushed his thumb up the front of the hilt, activating it with the typical snap-hiss many associated with the fabled Jedi weapon. A cyan glow fell over the stage, washing away the darkness and bathing those behind him in its calming light. Perhaps by the connection, both warriors held to the weapon, the kiffar finally found the wayward Jedi Master in the crowd. Ryv met Cedric's gaze and lowered his head in the briefest of nods.​

​

"Thank you for everything you've done. You'll never be forgotten," Ryv broke eye-contact before taking a step back from the podium. "And with that, I have one last topic to cover. Maynard Treicolt, please step forward," he stepped to the side, as to ensure both Jedi were fully visible to all gathered. "Kneel, Padawan," his tone carried with it the weight of an ancient tradition. As he took up the heavy lightsaber in his main hand, Ryv watched the Concordian fall into place before him.​

​

"We Jedi are more than warriors or soldiers. We are peacekeepers, beacons, and guardians to the galaxy. When darkness encroaches upon the innocents, we rise to ward away such shadows time and time again. Through your actions, Maynard Treicolt, you have proven to all of us you are a Paragon of Hope, a beacon of light, and a legend without peer," Ryv lowered the lightsaber to hover mere inches above the Padawan's shoulder. Matching the same flourish used in Ryv's knighting ceremony, he symbolically cut away the Padawan braid that did not hang there. "By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Maynard Treicolt, you may rise, not as a Jedi Padawan, but a Jedi Knight."​

​

Allyson Locke | Republic Engineering | Quinvee Dogen | Emmen Tagge | Raona Cadera | Nora Lithos ​

Loske Treicolt | Amea Virou | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Val Drutin | Adhira Chandra | Belisarius | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt ​

Lucien Dooku | Sssar Taszzn | Tempest Yore | Cai-Lan Raeth | Constantine Oliva | Jekadius Lawson ​

Asmus Omaand | Ava Cartwright-Pryce | Zahara Myneto | Arage Bao | Gala Geert | Cuyan'ika Rook | P Placeholder 0128 ​

 

[Cuyan'ika Rook]

Location: Outlander Club
Task: Objective One - Party
Focus: Din Marren Republic Engineering
---

Cuyan was lost to his own thoughts, deep in contemplation. Knocking around the exact type of sensation that this atmosphere was giving him. It was true, that by and large, he was a citizen of the Galactic Alliance. He had an ID card, afterall. He had gone out of his way to pass the tests and assure that he understood what day to day life inside of the GA would be like. He understood also that he was something special, something outside the norm even for such a cosmopolitan society. He was Force Sensitive, whatever exactly that meant. He was now, apparently, a Jedi, despite how disconnected he felt from the Order as a whole. He had known his place in the Clan, he had known his place, and this freedom, this wretched freedom, gave him the opportunity to make something of himself. To make himself what he wanted. What if he wasn't capable of being what he wanted to be? What if he could never be past what he was born as. What would his-

At that, he raises a hand to try to draw his attention while attempting to shout over the booming music, "Mando! Get that beskar-plated ass over here!"

He would always be that, he figured at least. No matter what he did, from the Outer Rim to the Core Worlds, people recognized beskar. The statement had caught him more by surprise than he wanted to admit, his head jerked ever so slightly from his drink as the word Mando broke over the bumping waves of the music blaring inside of the club. The sudden jolt bringing the filtration port from his drink mid sip, causing the swallow to roughly scrape through his neck, earning a series of coughs as the Jedi pounded on his chest with his free hand. The voice-filter through his helmet causing the spasm to sound much more violent than it reasonably should have been. Cuyan simply shaking his head the entire time before letting his free hand slam down on the table, once, twice, before the fit finally stopped and his breathing returned to normal. He took a deep breath, not having to even look over his shoulder to know that there had to be dozens of eyes from the local area on him now. He flushed underneath his helmet, he hardly took to it well. He never thought that he had to portray the stereotypical Mandalorian machismo, of course. When hundreds of his countrymen had the same personality, saying the same things, responding in the same way, and feeling the need to be this wall of hardened steel, there was a joy to be a bit more sensitive than that. A joy in being embarrassed and shy. A joy in being an individual.

The man had simply called out Mando, maybe it wasn't for him? There could be some other beskar plated man in the bar, of course. Was there? Cuyan let his eyes slowly scan throughout the bar in front of him, calmly, before turning his head to his right, left, and rolling around the chair to look behind him, rolling it again to face back to his drink. There wasn't of course. Of course he had to be the only one in the entire site with any form of beskar on at all. Would it be rude not to go to him? Of course it would be, what type of person just ignored someone? You were to be a diplomat Cuyan, and you were letting yourself get nervous over a drink?

Sighing, he reached up and tapped the hidden button on his helmet again, the tube retracting into the plating. He took the glass of blue into his hand, turned around, and swung his legs off of the chair. He had to hop slightly to manage to get down, his feet not naturally sitting on the floor due to his height. A pep talk would have been nice, or any form of actual knowledge on how to properly interact with someone in this environment. He came here because the academy was empty during a celebration like this, besides, sometimes crowds could be nice. He guessed he was wrong with this one.

He began to walk in the direction he had heard the voice come from, the Force acting as a soup in front of him. It was so loud, not the music, not the endless people talking, but the background energy of so many sentient in one location. Emotions were high, and they wafted off of each of them in vibrant shades of blues and greens throughout a deeper sense that passed sight for the Mando. It was something else, something he didn't properly understand yet.

Something else he seemed to poorly understand was the idea of "casual" attire. He was still clad, head to toe, in the garb of a padawan. Sheathed inside of blending robes of silver and purple, beskar helm on, and a simple lightsaber hilt hanging at his side. Not what would be considered a proper party outfit. He tried a few people, bouncing between awkward walk ups and gently whispered questions before nodding and moving onto the next person. He was careful not to profile, but the voice sounded like it would have come from a specific type of man, the same build his father had. Rough and tumble, rustic almost. It was the best way he could describe it. It was some time of this before he actually managed his way infront of Din Marren

"Hi. You asked for the Mando?" The voice hardly seemed to fit the aesthetic, much softer than would be expected. As if he was cautious about speaking too loud and disturbing the air itself. The sentence, also, was far from the hardass gruling response he was certain the commando expected. Instead, it was simple and nearly shy. Offput by being recognized almost.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

// OUTRIDER //
// OBJECTIVE // Try and not cry tbh
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Amea Virou | Emmen Tagge | Raona Cadera | Ryv | Cassius Callaesar | Leon Gallo

His re-emergence as a Jedi spelled a tale of peril and defeat. Initially, Maynard was well and truly alone until he'd met Loske and Ryv by chance in the annuls of Peace. In isolation it might have been a moment of insignificant idling interaction between the trio but it was the ignition to a powerful bond between the three. Even still, Maynard long relegated himself to living in their shadow even as he took the reins of Saber Squadron. Loske was far more intelligent and Ryv a paragon of the Jedi. All the while the feeling that Maynard was still that scared boy in the blood and rain on Concord Dawn, helpless, angry and afraid that continued to ail him.

That feeling of isolation from anyone around him lingered in the back of his mind flanked by the pit of self doubt which buried into the depths of his soul. He couldn't save anyone he cared about, he couldn't stop the people that wronged him.

Over and over Maynard's life was a tale getting bloodied and beaten into the dirt. Even as he shed tears in defeat, he got back up every time. Even if he never heard the sentiment himself shared between P Placeholder 0128 and Ryv, if there was anyone that could understand the importance of overcoming failure, it might've been Maynard. His upbringing never let him forget that anguish, that feeling of falling too short and disappointing himself along with everyone else around him. It was a dreadful curse that seemed to fixate itself unto his very being. But in truth, it was all inside his head.

He stood at the stage not because he was never put down, but because he always got back up. It never mattered the depths of the fall, so long as he was back on his feet and continued the fight. But he wasn't moved by his will alone to this point. He'd spent years alone prior to his return and it culminated in nothing. It was as much the influence of others that placed him here. He wasn't ever going to forget that and it showed in the shear selflessness that translated to heroism several times over.

It culminated in an 'off' nature in receiving this revelry alone. The chants of his call sign through the section of the patrons surrounding Loske draw a grin across his lips not long before he had to lift a hand under his eye to wipe a tear he felt welling in his eye. That dumb boy from Concord Dawn who'd amount to nothing, an appraisal by his own blood father had been christened a legend among the Galactic Alliance. When the light of Ruusan flushed over the Padawan's face his expression leveled back out, his gaze flashing wide for a brief moment when Ryv turned to face him.

Reflexively, he abided by the command and knelt down on one knee before the Sword Of The Jedi, peering up to the Kiffar as another tear streamed down his face, an expression awash with disbelief before he lowered his head down and shut his eyes. He knew what was coming all the while he struck in surprise by it. He'd long abandoned or even forgotten of the trials of the Jedi. In the end, it didn't matter if he recieved any arbitrary gesture. What mattered to him is that he did right by those he cared about. Evidently, it didn't go unnoticed.

Paragon of Hope, a beacon of light...a legend without peer. To hear the words uttered from Karis - it was surreal. Were he in the same position as the Kiffar, he wouldn't have described Ryv in any other words. It was vindicating, a wall which felt insurmountable, the doubt which continuously marred Maynard's self perception had been conquered, the voices culled.

That same scared and beaten boy from Concord Dawn knelt before Ryv and Maynard Treicolt, Jedi Knight rose in his stead. As soon as the Blade of Ruusan was sheathed, Maynard's gaze met the Kiffars with piercing redness from the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Surging forward, he pulled Ryv into a tight embrace.

"Thank you. I'd have been out for the count awhile ago without you, man. I love you, Ryv. You're my brother, always." Maynard said in a breath of genuine gratitude through tears to the man before he eventually broke the contact, offering a nod to the Sword Of The Jedi with a wide smile as he stepped back to his original spot.

 

[Leon Gallo]

Leon heard a momentous roar of cheers from down the hall. He sped down that way, coming to another door. He opened it, and stepped into the daylight. A senator had just finished their speech. Confused, and slightly drunk, Leon slipped into the back ground as best he could. He stood out, with the confetti-covered out fit and giant stuffed animal on his shoulders, but he didn't let that bother him. Instead, he watched as his friend Ryv finally took the stand. He found himself standing with two men he didn't know well, and Maynard. Ryv motioned to them, speaking each of their names. Leon felt his pride swell within him, especially at Ryv's following statements.

He watched in silence a Ryv continued his speech. When Maynard was called forth, the young Jedi watched as his friend was knighted. HE smiled as Ryv and Maynard hugged, and tried to resist the urge to give Maynard a thumbs up behind Ryv's back. He failed, and put both his thumbs up with the biggest grin he could muster. He was happy and proud for his friend, though he'd only known him for a short time. To be knighted was something incredible.



Ryv Maynard Treicolt Cassius Callaesar Gat Tambor Loske Treicolt Allyson Locke

 

[Allyson Locke]

Allyson watched as he made his move towards her. The Corellian gave herself a few pats on the back mentally, seeing that the man couldn't get enough of her. Though, his intention to kiss her again was not on her lips but her cheek. Everything that proceeded afterward caused the confident Corellian's knees to weaken as her face suddenly turned a red that was brighter than any Sith's lightsaber. The woman was frozen as she watched him head towards the stage. A few moments into his speech, Allyson was released from her imagination and quickly turned on her heel heading towards the bar. ​

Already waiting for her was a whiskey neat, and she shook her head quickly. "Water." Shawn blinked quickly and poured the woman a glass of water. The crowd roared with applause for what was happening on stage, Allyson at this moment couldn't concentrate on anything. The empty glass found its way to the bartop, and she pointed to it. Shawn once again looked at her with an odd look and poured another drink. ​

"Thirsty now, aren't we?" Allyson shot him a look over the rim of the glass as she gulped it down. Putting it down, she regained some of her composure and fanned herself with one of the coasters. "No, it's just really, really hot right now."​

Ryv ​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It was a good speech. Better than most that Cedric had given. for a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of pride that burned in his chest. That moment a fleeting one though. He gave his apprentice one final smile as their eyes met, offered a mock salute, and turned on his heel, marching off deeper into the crowds. they swallowed him up easily enough, and once again, he was no one.

He was glad he'd paid this last visit. It'd be a long time before he ever returned to Coruscant, and truthfully there wasn't much here for him to come back to. The Essonian colonists were well established at the very least, but if things went according to plan, then they'd be returning home soon enough. It was time for his people to stop sacrificing themselves for others that wouldn't do the same for them.

If took an ocean of blood to see the homeworld liberated, Cedric had no qualms spilling it. There was no place for ideals in total war, and this would be one for the very survival of their race.

Ession would either stand as a galactic power, or Ession would simply not be at all.

His purpose recontextualized, Cedric bid his final farewell to the gathering, and began to make his way toward the ship. Wasn't much point wasting anymore time tittering about when things were reaching a boiling point.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Senate District​

Loske almost tried to shrug away while Amea Virou reached out to bestow her with extra glitter, but she didn't move quite quick enough. It stuck to her like...glitter. And it would forever be a part of her life now. She remained transfixed on the little star replicas on her shoulders while the other woman spoke of opulence and uniting together.

"Not a bad first time." She remarked, and took a sip of the bubbles in her glass. It was much better than whatever they'd had in that cantina the one day, and certainly lighter than that cruise on Onderon. "17/17 would parade again."

"I'm glad you two know each other, too now." For the first time in her life, there was a happy overlap of all her worlds together. There was no privacy, no clandestine movements in the shadow that needed to be shielded. No premeditated opinions on anything. Today felt untouchably good. A bright flush touched her cheeks with the compliment to the coupling, and she turned to look all dazzled at Amea. That enthusiasm drained slightly at the suggestion of her metal-handed companion backhanding someone to death. OR - maybe not to death, but within an inch of their miserable life. This short-haired brunette certainly had an affinity for her fists that the prior technomancer would have probably been appalled at. Loske wasn't sure which variation she liked more in that regard. Maybe this one -- because as much as Kaili may have shared the sentiment, there wasn't a likelihood she'd fulfill it. Amea was trustworth, if not hungry for a little slip up from the fellow on stag. She blew her humour out her nose with an accompanying chortle. "I know, thanks... Hopefully I never have to call in that favour."

There was a gentle sway to the crowd as they cheered before coming to a calmer, respectful state to give attention to the speaker. Ryv 's eloquence captured the attentions of the crowds. There was no trace of hubris or untruth in his statements, and her throat hitched with suspense at the extra attention on Maynard's name. All of a sudden, she was nothing short of enraptured with the interaction.

I'm just not sure I'll do it all too much good...I bet you know I never even get to knight hood if I'm honest."

If this wasn't the biggest I-told-you-so moment in their friendship ever, she didn't know what else to compare it to. Of course the words exchanged between Ryv and Maynard were on deaf ears, but she reached out to snatch up Amea's free hand and give it a giddy squeeze so her enthusiasm could be transferred other than her stretching smile. Titles and responsibilities were well beyond Loske, and if Amea were Kaili, she'd share the sentiment, but it was more than the title that made it exciting. It wasn't a bestowment from prowess with The Force, it was for the consistent integrity and diligence and ultimate character.

That counted.

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt // Maynard Treicolt // Ryv // Allyson Locke

A slow nod and Amea was back on her feet again to watch the speech. Ryveting as it was she couldn’t help but trail off and continue to watch the crowd. Call it a spacer’s unwillingness to calm down to the hundredth degree or something. A hand on her pockets to ensure nobody tried to go through them, a good glance around the room and a small probe with the force to determine if anyone house ill-will towards her. As would have been expected she came up empty on all fronts, but a habit was a habit nonetheless.

She turned back towards the stage just in time for the lightsaber to turn on. Perhaps a bit too militaristic and grandiose for her tastes, but a perfect symbolism for the Jedi’s preferred weapon nonetheless. As Maynard was called forth she looked over at Loske with a curious glance, and as the man was asked to kneel, well…

The ceremony was allowed to continue. Maynard was dubbed a knight, and Amea slowly but ever so smoothly leaned into Loske’s glitter-riddled shoulder with a crap-shoveling grin.

“I guess this whole thing just turned into a one-knight-stand, hm?”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //
// OBJECTIVE // Decompress
// FOCUS // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

"No, I'm Tavlar." The Sovereign offered in a rare showing of humor. Though he was close to the vest with his social tact, it was there. Lyra would know better than anyone else that he had his moments. They were rare and fleeting, but he had his moments. If he was well and truly candid with his feelings in this moment, he'd serve to make no one happy. Though he was never one to shy away from unpleasant talks, it wasn't the time or place.

"Its a different environment isn't it?" Coruscant. Where the Galactic Alliance was formed to revelry and fanfare, the New Imperial Order was solidified from defiance and regimented rigidity. A coalition of Jedi and valiant soldiers of freedom coming together in celebration in the stead of scorned military men and wayward users of the force.

Allies or not, the difference was stark. Where the Alliance donned themselves in the most expensive clothes they could come across, unfurling whatever was held in reserve for a 'special day' those who came from the New Imperial Order were all but entirely clad in formal military wear to create a scattering of fiedgrey, white and black among otherwise vibrant colors. One of the few observations Irveric gleaned from his moments in isolation half mulling over his thoughts and half distracting them with the sights of a nation of true individuality painted in spades of contrast from the collectivist Imperial culture. To think too, the New Imperial Order were still freedom fighters in their own way.

 

[Quinvee Dogen]

The Corellian Dreadnoughts veteran thought for a moment that maybe he should take it easy on her, but then he remembered how smug she sounded when she whispered in his ear and decided that no, he would not go easy on her. The big man picked up his mug that he'd set down and downed the rest of the drink before setting it back down and wiping his foam covered beard with his forearm. Was he a terrible person for doing this, he thought as he picked up another large mug from a floating service droid and slipped a cred coin in its slot.

Probably.

He shrugged his huge shoulders and took a swig.

"More or less," he said aloofly like any other guy who had spent time in an arcade or watched the sport only when he was in cantinas. She didn't look tipsy at all. In fact he hadn't really seen her finish her last drink yet so she may have had the advantage on him. He had been a blocker so tosses and passes hadn't been his go to thing, but he'd thrown the ball around more than enough to ace a child's game like this.

Nora Lithos

 

[Gat Tambor]

// TAMBOR //
// OBJECTIVE // Getting A Medal
// FOCUS // Emmen Tagge | Adhira Chandra

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Amongst the crowded revelry of the gathering, the Balmorran Senator sought to brush elbows with the IGBC chairman with a hushed correspondence deafened from anyone other than the two by the applause and roar of the crowd. Turning to the Balmorran Senator, Tambor offered a gaze of beady amber eyes clasped beneath the thick, sealed pressure goggles, bringing a hand to the vocoder dial fixed to the chest plate of his atmospheric suit in anticipation of an oncoming malfunction as he went to speak.

"OWEWEERERRERRRR- Senator Chandra, a pleasure." At least he certainly carried himself like it was, all in all he was truly apathetic to having this interaction as his vocoder let off the painful whir of its anticipated malfunction. Being the Centrist she was he anticipated a baseline partisan antagonist from her and the rest of her bloc as soon as he would ever be elected, a possibility which almost the entirety of Tambor's employed analytics people had reaffirmed to him as a perfectly feasible and nearly likely result. In the wake of this ceremony? Gat could only anticipate that would change. Tagge was a popular man in the Alliance, being the stalwart figurehead of the unification efforts which involved sating the deeply complex quagmire of interlaced political ties within the Core while managing enough support to throw the Alliance's hat in the ring of the Sith-Imperial Civil War. A war which only proved popular given the Sith Empires persistent antagonizing of the Galaxy for nearly a decade, it was just due.

"Hmmm...I am confident myself in a victory but even so, only so much can be predicted in this peculiar game of politics. I've seen truly bewildering results in my time." Tambor admitted. He had been elected Viceroy of Christophsis afterall and was on the verge of being a man to hold political office within three different governments. To many, Gat Tambor himself was bewildering. What piqued his interest more was talk of 'sources on Skako'. Being the innately reclusive and repulsive people they were at their core (a nature to which Tambor seemingly endeared himself to his constituents) it was a difficult appraisal to figure who that might be. His first and only conclusion might be her Centrist ally in Gat Tambor's direct rival. If that's where she received her news? Then the future spelled fortunate for the Technoid Foreman or perhaps it was a false play at boosting his confidence to ease off the gas for her Centrist ally to catch up. No option was off the table.

 

[Emmen Tagge]

Coruscant // Galactic City
Senate Plaza
Objective 1 - WOOOO!​

Clapping, the Chancellor approaches Ryv and places a hand on his shoulder. He watches the Captain return to the line with pride, understanding easily from their exchange that it had been a moment of significance beyond just rank or prestige. He tightens his grip to a gentle squeeze and turns his head to face the young Jedi Knight, his own eyes shining with tears that would not fall.

"A beautiful speech, Ryv," he says quietly, "the Order is lucky to have you. As are we."

With nothing more than a simple smile to follow the words, he gives a farewell pat and moves to stand in front of the first of the brave men who had been named. "Cpt. Treicolt -- Jedi Knight," his tone is warm and his voice un-amplified. Despite the encouragement of his advisors, he'd chosen to have his individual exchanges be private. Emmen wanted these men to know his sincerity, and not have any doubt that his words might be for publicity "You have faced many terrible dangers; horrors that I cannot image. You and your brave pilots. Were it not for your commitment, skill and passion; and the bond you share with your wingmates, many more lives may have been lost in the massacres on Brentaal IV & Honoghr. You have stood against some of the most ruthless enemies this Galaxy has seen. I know you may never bring yourself to agree, but you are a hero in the eyes of many of these people here today. The Alliance needs people like you, Captain. These people," he turns to look out at the tens of thousands of people who had poured into the Plaza; a sea of diverse colours, shapes and sizes "they need people like you. You, and all of Saber Squadron, inspire hope. Hope that we, working together, can once again do great things -- help others, planets. Even the Galaxy, in time."

A mono-wheeled service droid at the Chancellor's side lifts it's thin arms to present an ornately crafted box. Turning away from the pilot for a moment, Emmen opens it and pulls the treasure from within; a polished gold medal forged in the shape of the Alliance's stylistic starbird crest, with a lashaa silk ribbon in a vivid royal blue. He places it carefully over Maynard's head, then extends a hand for a congratulatory shake, adding one final comment; "Thank you for your service."

Next, he and the droid approach the second Jedi among the line. "Jedi Knight Leon Gallo," the Chancellor can't help but give the boy a grin as he discerns that he's a bit intoxicated. He wasn't going to fault him -- he'd earned it. "You've served the Core since the Graysonian banner decorated this very site, and have never once hesitated when called upon for aid. Even as the city of Vuultin was crumbling to the ground, you dove head first into the madness to pull children from the wreckage. You selflessly risked your life, against near impossible odds, to save the lives of strangers who needed help."

Once more, he reaches into the box being presented by the small automaton following him, "Be proud of what you've done, my boy. I know we are."

At that, he places the same starbird medal over the Jedi's head and similarly shakes his hand.

Third in line was to be Gideon Raith, the commanding officer of the Sigma Squad commandos. His efforts had been vital in the rescue of the Corellian Senator, Kaito Kiyoshi, and the High Admiral who was standing next to his empty slot on the steps. It was no bother. Today was a day of celebration, and he only hoped the Lieutenant had found company to enjoy it with. He'd be sure to provide it to him in person another day.

The next recipient was Cassius Callaesar, High Admiral of the Azure Sector group. The Corellian Senator had been keen to recommend him personally after their escape from Vulpter, insisting that the Admiral was one of the only reasons they'd managed to survive until their evacuation team breached the tower. Naturally, the two had met many times before in their lines of work. "Admiral Callaesar, I am honoured to bestow this to you for you valiant display on Vulpter. Despite only a few years separating us, I can't imagine I'd fair quite as well chained to a chair. And with a Corellian Senator!" He lets out a chuckle, but is quick to compose himself, "We thank you for your continued service to our people, Admiral."

After placing the medal on the Admiral and shaking his hand, Chancellor Tagge finds himself at the end of the line. His eyes move from the Skakoan to the newly elected Balmorran Senator standing behind him. He offers her a smile, aware he was interrupting a hushed conversation. "Mr. Tambor, I must say I was shocked to hear what happened on Tython. I would have you know that we have our agencies pursuing leads to ensure that justice comes to the would-be assassin and those responsible. Nevertheless, to see that you would risk your own life for another in the face of such apparent danger -- your own rival in the Senatorial race, no less. Well, it is inspiring."

This time, the medal drawn from the coffer has a notable difference -- it seems to lack a ribbon. "We had this one specially made to accommodate your pressure suit," he explains, holding it to the chest of the armoured breastplate of his pressure suit. When he releases it from his fingers the starbird crest clangs to the metallic surface, "magnetized, for your convenience. I wish you the best in your run for office, Mr. Tambor."

With a shake of the Technoid mastermind's hand Tagge begins to make his way back toward the podium to conclude the ceremony. "It is my highest honour to award these brave men with these Medals of Valor -- a Golden Starbird. So, let's take a moment to celebrate them! These heroes!" he turns to face them once again, clapping along with the roar of the crowd in a moment of uninterrupted praise. "But, but," he raises his hands to calm as much of the shouting and whistling as he can, "there is one last award for me to give before I wish you all a merry Unity Day celebration."

He looks to his side, beckoning to the Kiffar Jedi off the steps after knighting Maynard "Ryv. Come here, son," he calls out, away from the microphone. As he holds out a hand to wait for the Knight to join him, he looks back to the hopeful eyes who watched them "Ryv Karis, the Sword of the Jedi." Emmen steps away with the final medal in hand, taking steps to meet the boy half-way. "You have done remarkable things for a lad your age. You have guided the new Jedi Order through instability and united others across the stars to fight against oppression and destruction. You have done things that I would never ask of anyone, yet you do them knowing they must be done. Your sacrifices have not gone unnoticed, Ryv Karis. We have all noticed, and we are thankful."

To the sound of cheer for his unheard speech, the Chancellor places the final Starbird medallion over the young Sword's head and extends his hand.

Spoiler: Tags

Allyson Locke | Republic Engineering | Quinvee Dogen | Ryv | Raona Cadera | Nora Lithos
Loske Treicolt | Amea Virou | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Val Drutin | Adhira Chandra | Belisarius | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Lucien Dooku | Sssar Taszzn | Tempest Yore | Cai-Lan Raeth | Constantine Oliva | Jekadius Lawson
Asmus Omaand | Ava Cartwright-Pryce | Zahara Myneto | Arage Bao | Gala Geert | Cuyan'ika Rook | P Placeholder 0128

 

[Adhira Chandra]

Coruscant // Galactic City
Senate Plaza
Objective 1 & Objective 2​

Adhira's chocolate brown eyes sized up the skakoan as he offered his supposedly enthusiastic reception of her greeting and found its sincerity wanting. She was undeterred, however. If anything, Tambor's aptitude for miming the social niceties of political life only made him more interesting to the Balmorran native. While she detested the ethics of corporatist partisans in the Senate, there were occasionally outliers who piqued her curiosity and on rare occasions endeared her to them.​

​

At the fore of the stage a Jedi was being knighted and no doubt Gat would soon be called forward to leave her side. Whereas she initially sought only to get an estimation of the one who would undoubtedly be counted among her favorite sparring partners, now she knew she needed to take advantage of the opportunity to gain a better understanding of his motivations. More importantly, whether those motivators could be used to advance her own agenda in the Senate.​

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It was Tambor's odd mixture of presenting both confidence and humility that made her balk. "Chairman, your tasteful modesty is out of fashion, a currency worth very little here," she ribbed, allowing herself a raspy chuckle. She brought her hand to her hip and smiled out at the crowd as they began to offer their appreciation for something else the Jedi had said. "Speaking of, I must say your fervent advocacy for the standardization of galactic currency is something to be admired. Something I agree with wholeheartedly. Even worth... an endorsement from a prominent member of your opponent's alignment, hypothetically, such a thing could make redundant certain unknown variables."​

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Adhira was careful to turn her head from the circling droids as she spoke the last sentence. "Perhaps Balmorra and Skako can find some common ground from which to... nudge the galaxy in the right direction?" The senator began to fiddle with her jade ring again and just in time as the Chancellor began to recognize those around her... including the distinguished Chairman himself.​

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Senator Chandra fell back in line, once more a convenient prop for the backdrop of victory.​

Gat Tambor​

 

[Raona Cadera]

A tear came to her eye as she listened to the Chancellor's imprisoned speech.

Truly this was a wonderful day for the Alliance.

 

[Nora Lithos]

“Well, that’s good.” She said as her hands pushed against the ball as if to measure the air pressure within. The man’s vague answer caused her to squint for just the briefest of seconds before she accepted whatever fate was about to come her way before she assumed a tossing position. With one last look over her shoulder she turned her focus back towards the game.

It was all in the power of the throw.

She was precision.

She was… Incredibly lucky.

The ball bounced against the inner wall of the game before it landed right in the basket right next to the center. Not a perfect throw, but… Well, no, to Nora it was perfect. Hell, it was practically the best shot she’d ever had in this game, but so far she was practically faking it and also making it.

“Warm-up throw.” Nora cleared her throat and stepped back from the game to give the man another lookover, a proper one. A very long one that ended no sooner than when he turned her way. She played it off and looked at the crowd in the streets. “So, what do you do, Quin?”

She turned back towards the man as he took his shot.

Quinvee Dogen

 

[Din Marren]

Coruscant // Galactic City
Uscru Entertainment District // Outlander Club
Objective 1 - Party
Republic Engineering Cuyan'ika Rook
​

Din nearly chokes from laughter as the armour-clad warrior flounders in his seat. He'd only ever heard the over-the-top and badass stories surrounding the Mandalorian people. Well, those or the terrible ones. In all his days he'd never once bumped into one so casually while on a leave. It wasn't until the presumed bounty hunter or mercenary rose from his seat that Din noticed the Jedi robes.

Now that was peculiar.

"Jedi Master Mando?" he asks with a laugh "You're really going full throttle, huh?"

He raises his drink, "I can drink to that. Don't see many of your type out here these days -- seems like you're all caught up fighting with the Sith and eachother out in the Rims. Good to know we've still got some of ya fighting the good fight."

Din knocks at the counter to catch the droid behind it's attention, "Grab something for the armoured guy here, will ya?" The bartender's receptors shift to observe the Mandalorian before it nods in compliance with the request.

"What's got you here, anyway?" he holds up a finger to pause any answer that might come, then turns to snag the mysterious drink the droid had selected from the countertop beside him. "Name's Dare -- Alliance Commando, Sigma Squad," he holds it out for the surprisingly timid warrior to take "You're drinkin' with us today, friend."

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

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//Coruscant // Galactic City // Senate District // Senate Plaza //
Objective 1: Wooo!
NIO Friendlies: New Imperial Order Delegation, Imperial Force Corps Knights Escorts
GA In Vicinity: Gala Geert Arage Bao [Heading to Their Side of the Party]

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“I don’t do parties,” said Asmus Omaand bluntly.

"This is an inspiring sight ma'am," chimed Jekadius Lawson s, pausing to continue, "but Knight Asmus is correct just viewing it will have to be enough for us."

Zovesa’s lips scrunched into a corner and she sighed a long exhale from his nostrils. Nodding she acknowledged her escorts protestations.

“So you’re all just as uncomfortable as I am,” she said in a low whisper to herself.

“Fine, then,” said Zovesa in a louder voice. “We’ll just have to keep to the mission then.”

“At least try to look like you’re not in a battlefield though, we’re delegates, not a taskforce this time around.”

Zovesa sighed again and crossed her arms across her chest. But, her private meditations on her insecurities with informal celebrations was interrupted by the soft questions of her Squire, Cai-Lan Raeth . Turning around to look down at the young Squire, Zovesa raised a brow and smacked her lips.

“Squire Raeth,” said Zovesa, “I am not a noble or some despot, I am not your lady…I am your commanding officer. And you are my Squire and a soldier in Force Corps, not an attendant or servant.”

“You address me as Marshal,” she continued. “Leave the platitudes to despots and nobles.”

“But…” Zovesa paused, looking at her escorts. “Perhaps a drink would be called for.”

She turned to her Knights and escort, “The Imperator ordered us to take in the celebration as well as delivering his message.”

A rare smile stretched across her face, “We wont have another moment of peace like this for a long time. So rather than constrain us to some uncomfortable tension, let’s at least try to take it easy. The ceremony is long, they wont need us for a while.”

Zovesa looked back to Cai-Lan and patted him on the shoulder, “Let’s grab something.”

“That’s an order, boys,” said Zovesa glancing over her shoulder back at the escort.

The Chiss High Knight Marshal tapped Cai-Lan, pushing him a little towards a refreshment table lined with drinks and gaudy protocol droids doing waiter duty.

“Lead the way Squire,” said Zovesa.

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[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Objective I : WOOOO
Focus : Irveric Tavlar

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"Pardon me-"

Lyra about sputtered into the champagne chute, trying to hide her reaction. Genuinely surprised, of course leave it to his clandestine humor to rear its head of all times. Their mighty Imperator, as if he hadn’t been in need of a fifty one fifty order last they spoke. The decade spent reaping in war beside the man still hadn’t prepared her for his timing. Clearing her throat with a stern cough, her thoughts took a turn for the worse before turning her head aside to compose herself. She caught snippets of the ceremony, and she wanted to say she almost moved by it. Gently clapping her hands as cheers arose for the Jedi, distracting herself.

Who would have thought?

It was nice, but it felt like they were spitting in the face of something. Excessive wasn’t a fond trait in the rank. The woman wasn’t going to admit it but it was her first time attending any sort of real celebration outside of military perimeters; if bootlegged bottles counted? Distant memories from Bescane fell under the same chokehold of the Empire’s stifling culture. The warm light of the lanterns and general morale made for something greater, there were people here with little worry and she grappled with trying to simply enjoy it.

For their own little military dissension, they were standing on new ground, a greater feat than anything they might have accomplished before. They could celebrate that, but this was a matter of..heroes and freedom. For an Imperial it just made them an odd man out; spectating. It wouldn’t last, Lyra in part regretted the thought. It was laced in bitterness and unsure of what she specifically referred to. Her hand tightened around the glass, and she traded the drink between hands to curb the twitch.

“We should,” she began, glancing back to Irveric vaguely gesturing to the lot of it, “try to follow the example..sometime. The music is tolerable.”