Sankt Yora
The Lady Vicar
Kuat City Center
Location: Conference Room, Government Complex, Kuat City Center
Allies: [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member="Voph"], [member="BNI-Bella and BNI-Leo"]
Nearby: @Chekita Awaud, [member="Priesse Brinari"]
Enemies: Pride, cowardice, and indecision
Objective: Find solace in disruption
It came first as if the bending of a single blade of grass in the wind. A drop in a vast ocean. Inconsequential and easily overlooked. Unnoticed, it grew despite neglect. Soon it grew to spite neglect, clawing up, crying out for notice, until it was. By then, it was too late, events had been set in motion, giving them a life of their own. No longer was mere notice enough, now disaster was assured, and all because of a modest breeze.
That a breeze could become a storm was one of the unspoken truths of the galaxy, rarely acknowledge and even more rarely appreciated, and yet now Kuat stood upon the precipice of such a storm.
Dark forces collided in orbit above the world as dark forces mustered on the grounds outside the government complex. Perhaps not all were ill-intentioned, but enough understood the consequences of their actions, and yet acted regardless. Their callous disregard for humility in the face of harm was discouraging, but the Senator had no such illusions of optimism for the fate of most sentients. It was unfortunate that they would die for a lost cause, but that was all. There would be more to step into their place, others who could be taught where teaching had failed before.
In the meantime, a pallid choice was before them.
The Falleen woman had assumed the Exarch was among others of her class, a politician first, a warrior second. Yet not for the first time since meeting the Echani woman, Yora had found her assumptions wanting and her perceptions revised. It was refreshing to see a lack of cowardice from such an esteemed figure in the Confederacy’s leadership, a trait that few in the New or Old Republic had shared. Country before politics was a foreign concept to them, something that the Senator had struggled to combat time and time before.
Not now. Now she stood before Srina Talon, a patriot in the guise of a politician. Yora knew herself the strength of having such a compelling purpose, so it was easy for her to admire the Confederate Exarch. But admiration alone would not resolve the situation they faced, the impending danger of approaching violence, the present danger of misguided conflict, and the everpresent quandary of Kuat’s status among the galactic powers.
With conflicting instructions from the Confederate delegation, the Senator took it upon herself to push the choice to a resolution. The bunker was built like a vault, locked from the inside, there was little chance for the Exarch or anyone else to follow behind later. It was once or never. So it was prudent to put off the once, even if that amounted to never in the end. If the Confederate Exarch prefered to stay and fight, then that was her choice, Yora would never presume to override it even in her own domain.
“Stay your concerns, Mr. Voph. We will go as one or not at all.” the Senator remarked to the retinue designated protector. Instead, she called Ms. Raetha to her side, whispering short instructions to the aide. There was an alcove nearby, and it took only a few moments for the young woman to configure it properly. When Yora stepped inside, the terminal was set to broadcast widespread to the city, and if communications were still functioning, to other repeaters on the rest of the planet.
“Citizens of Kuat. I know what you have suffered in these past years. The hardship, the injustice, the desecration of your planet’s legacy. The Republic promised to be your saviors, to relieve you of your burdens. They failed. They offer aid at the point of a gun, and restoration by the hands of competitors. They are not interested in restoring Kuat to its former glory, but only in the illusion that the New Republic is the equal of the Galactic Republic before it.
“Do not let these squabbles compel you to arms. The Confederacy brings new friends, not conquerors, intent only on seeing the restoration of Kuat to what it once was. That the Republic would choose to deny Kuat the freedom to choose its course among the galaxy is their hill to die upon. Shelter yourself, your loved ones, your children. Leave the fighting to those who would die needlessly for insipid nationalism. Protect yourselves if threatened, but do not give cause for any to harm you, for the mercies of war belong to no one. Stay safe and stay proud, for today Kuat may struggle, but tomorrow Kuat will thrive.”
With the message broadcasting on all Kuati messaging channels, both audio and video, the Senator stepped back away from the terminal, to the situation before her once again. It seems there had been little improvement, but one thing was clear. The negotiations were short. No sooner had the Confederacy made its overtures had the Republic rattled its saber, a sword that was far shorter than the one the Southern Systems wielded. The battle would be quick, but the repercussions would echo broadly, the Republic was unlikely to come out looking like either victor or victim in this encounter.
“Perhaps, Exarch,” Yora began, summoning her aide once more. This time, the woman came bearing a tray, upon which a bottle and four glasses were arranged. “This is a significant moment in and of itself. This drink is a custom among Nemoidians, to celebrate the failure of negotiations. As ours are unlikely to resolve this conflict peacefully, it would seem to apply.” She gestured toward Ms. Raetha as her assistant poured out the dingy liquor into the glasses. “This vintage is quite rare, since the Nemoidians so often have need of it. Yet, not unlike our Republic counterparts here, they find themselves too prideful to supply enough to meet demand.”
Holding out one of the glasses to Srina, Yora took one herself, willing to down the foul-tasting liquid when the Exarch did.
