The Pellaeon Doctrine [Imperial Confederation/Corellian Confederation]

[Tanomas Graf]

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The flash of hovering camera-droids illuminated the podium where one Tanomas Graf stood, flanked by two members of the party's Imperial Guard. "Today, the Senate unanimously voted for the passage of resolution 8196 - a public declaration of the Imperial Confederation's intent to safeguard the Core Worlds from foreign expansionism" The high chancellor announced proudly, "No longer will the inhabitants of this region of space fear the influence of external nations, for it is my duty as a servant of the Imperial state to ensure their right to self-determination. Any and all attempts to expand into our home will be met with immediately severance of diplomatic ties."

He paused, taking a drink from a glass of water. "Once the conflict with the Clans of Mandalore has reached its inevitable conclusion, the government will be further expanding upon the ideas already laid out in what we have termed the 'Pellaeon Doctrine', named after the beloved Imperial leader and war hero Gilad Pellaeon - a native of Corellia." He continued, giving a warm smile to the croud of reporters, "We hope that this new legislation will lead to increased cooperation between the myriad of cultures inhabiting the Core worlds, and that it will further shape the Imperial Confederation into a state for the people, by the people."

 

[Raona Cadera]

The Corellian Council chambers were buzzing. The Core Imperial Confederation's decree while comforting to some threw up dozens of red flags. She'd been in near constant contact with her military advisor [member="Straid Priest"] and about a dozen other Councilors. While the CIC essentially handed Corellia and any other group in the Core a promise that they would come to their aid, it also held the worrying connotation of "we will protect you whether you want it or not," and that was more worrisome.

"Have their fleet movements changed?"

"Not any different since they've opened hostilities with the Mandalorians..."

The conversation trailed off as the two military analysts speed walked by. The doors of her office slid open and none other than [member="Aeneis Valdemar"]. His heavy brooding self made the whole room feel stuffy, but that was probably only because of her tutoring with [member="Romi Jade"].

"Aeneis," she said cautiously. The man seemed to have been taken under Priest's wing and so had become a common face in her office but Priest must have been severely busy if he had sent Aeneis. Unless...He was here on his own.

"What can I do for you? I'm sure you know there's a lot going on."

 

[Aeneis Valdemar]

Making his way through the halls of the Council Chambers, it was impossible for one to not overhear what others were saying about the Imperial Confederations declaration. Aeneis had heard the announcement only moments prior and even as he rushed through the halls looked down to the datapad that had the Pellaeon Doctrine sprawled across it. He’d read it over no less than thrice and still planned on reading it again. He was new to the political scene and one of his first lessons was that wording meant everything. Every word that left a politician’s mouth could have a double meaning.

Walking up to the double doors of the Diktat, the ex-soldier breathed inwards, centered himself and pressed his badge to the panel. With that the doors hissed open permitting the Arkanian offshoot entrance. Across the room sitting, where Lisza should’ve been sitting there was no one to be found. Perhaps he’d arrived too early? This meant he’d have time to reorganize his thoughts and how he’d approach the Diktat.

“Good evening Lisza.” The Arkanian responded turning to the woman behind him as she entered. The words of the Quarth made him question if he was truly welcome in this instant but it was better to ask forgiveness than permission in some cases. He was also sure that she’d probably want to discuss things privately. “That declaration is exactly why I’m here.” Holding up the datapad in his hand Aeneis stood up from the office chair and offered her his hand.

“What actions will be taken now? Do you have a plan on how we’ll respond to this?” Of course Aeneis was probably nowhere near the first on the woman’s mind to discuss such things with, yet fortune decided to favor the bold at times.

[member="Lisza Starseeker"], [member="Tanomas Graf"]

 

[Raona Cadera]

Her large, orange eyes narrowed as she took a few tentative steps into the room and the conversation. Whether or not he knew it, he'd laid a political mine field at her feet. Very openly and with about a dozen ways to side-step it, but the fact that he attempted to lay the political trap was more worrying. She saw the man as a potential ally, had she been wrong?

She folded her arms across her chest before stroking her chin as if in thought, sizing him up.

"I'm sure you understand that as both military personnel I can't allow that information to be given so freely," she started, "But you can put your mind at ease. The Imperials won't have us bowing down so easily..." She circled her desk, opposite of him and reached under neath and pulled out a bottle of wine.

"Its from Humbarine, gift from the Lord Admiral herself. Care for a drink?"
[member="Aeneis Valdemar"]

 

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Location: The Imperial Palace, Coruscant​

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The press conference was an overwhelming success in the eyes of Graf's advisors, they told him such as the group travelled through the hallway of the palace. The Imperial Confederation's participation in the Seven Week War had allowed it to rise to status as major galactic power among the likes of the Sith Empire and Confederacy. Now it had been time to start acting the part, drawing out their own fiefdom among the galaxy and chasing off any other that dared to venture close. For them, it was their home: the Core. But unlike the power-hungry regimes that had come before him, one of which being his own, Tanomas had learned from his mistakes well enough.

The idea of complete and utter domination of a region of space was asinine, a logistical and cultural nightmare for the Empires of new and old. He needed the people to like him, something that was also near-impossible with the ideology he held so lovingly. The Pellaeon Doctrine was the perfect compromise between the newer generation of politicians and the old guard in the Party. Establishing an impregnable sphere of influence around their coveted territories that stretched beyond the lines of government but into the very human spirit itself. The Corellians wanted to be free, as all humans wished - why not give them the very thing they wanted?

The easy part was done, let the people know that his state intended to protect their freedom, and their right to choose the government they wanted; the hard part was steadily moulding the Corellian Confederation into a friend of theirs. They would push back in the beginning, yes, but subtle influencing from the ISB could convince their people to want to be friends with his empire. Yes, yes...it was all coming together nicely...a political battleplan to rival even Sieger Ren…

But he needed the last piece of the puzzle: one would be willing to put aside their personal ambition for the greater good, one who wouldn't feth his great plan up for a chest full of credits and a warm-bodied partner.

"Contact my secretary, I want General [member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"] to be in my study as soon as possible for a discussion," Graf said, pausing for a moment, "and bring up a bottle of Galidraani vintage, 830 ABY."

 

[Custani Valcho]

The what? That was the first thing that came to his mind when he heard that [member="Tanomas Graf"] had issued something that sounded utterly like a declaration of war. "Move our fleets to the outer edge of the system and do it without delay, High Admiral" he said. The man must have lost his sanity. Mandolore was almost to it's knees. And the Correlians his friends, had more or less expanded their territory since he had been visited all those weeks ago. But now there was this. Purified. Pelleaon. Ha. The man had to be insane. "Send word to the Correlians. In a few short days I will be there. Whatever, this means I am not sure. However it would be wise for us to continue our expansion. If war breaks out. I want to be able to keep them away from Xa Fel. Fortify our troop positions in the East and fortify the atmosphere processing facility as well. Wait...this is not my job. Do yours, High General. With that the two men left his office and he began to pace. Only the will of the force knew what was next. Hopefully it wouldn't be war.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Lisza Starseeker"] [member="Aeneis Valdemar"]

 

[Willan Tal]

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He glanced around his office space as he had done a hundred times before. His subordinates having mostly departed for celebratory drinks with recent news of the Mandalorians capital planet under fire by Sith forces. He had no company to offer companionship through the long hours of solitude and thinking. Just the torture of the dark, and his own brooding conscience.

They had significantly been victorious against the widely scattered and disorganised Mandalorian forces, with losses in Imperial resources and manpower much lower than what analysts and intel previously predicted. A resounding success for Imperial party propaganda and a defiant declaration that the Imperial military machine was no pushover. Yet they still had challenges to overcome, with one superpower seemingly doomed to fade into the annals and another far pressing danger south. The Imperial military had a lot on its hands. And sometimes sacrifices were needed. Even from the high born Imperials and Coruscant's best, for duty called regardless of class and stature.


Theodore cared not at all for all that stature; indeed, he considered his life a small price to pay if necessary. His old man used to remind Theodore and his brothers that good men try, and even when they don't succeed, the attempt should be enough.

Light scented smoke from his half-burned cigarra wafted in small clouds that drifted across the room, his attention turned to the window that revealed a bustling world outside. Trillions of people lived on Coruscant, living in the immense metropolis that covered the world, their hopes, dreams and lives numerous. It quaint how the only thing separating them from another sacking of Coruscant was the thin red line that the Imperial army wa-

The solemn silence of office was cut out sharply by the static beep of his comlink, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and annoyance at his train of thought being interrupted.

What could that be? at this hour?

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The Galidraani cut an impressive figure as he walked the long corridors that encompassed the complex known as the Imperial Palace. The most striking feature was the abundance of the Imperial red and the Chancellors sigil, the colour of the confederation and the images of Imperial mantra that stood proudly. When the great galactic war had ended in the destruction of the Galactic Alliance, the old symbols of the defunct entity that used to line the palace were torn down. They were a reminder of the old world and the longstanding decay that ate away at the Galactic Alliance as an entity.

Save for the occasional Imperial official walking past and the odd pair of stormtroopers on corridor patrol, the place was surprisingly quiet at this hour. After getting him cleared through security, another lift took the Imperial general to Graf's personal study where the enigmatic older man awaited him.

"Chancellor Graf, you require my presence?"

[member="Tanomas Graf"]

 

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Location: The Imperial Palace, Coruscant​

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The high chancellor's mouth twisted into the phantom of a smile for a split second, a hand with a ring bearing a gold Imperial crest motioning for the younger man to sit down beside him. "Ah, Mister Clarke. At last we have the chance to meet face-to-face; guards, leave us." Tanomas called out softly, clacks being heard as two white-and-black armoured Imperial guardsmen stepped out of the shadows and left through a wooden panel that opened to accommodate them before closing with a hydraulic hiss.

Graf snapped his fingers and a protocol droid brought forth a tray with two glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking liquor, "I had them bring up a bottle of Galidraani brandy, not that fake chit they import to the local lounges. Right, Haitch-Kay?" He continued, looking up at the droid. "Agreement: Oh yes, master. The amount of synthetic ethanol in domestic beverages is truly disgusting. You'll have none of that here, no sire - you can practically taste the indentured servitude." The droid replied, setting down the tray and pouring a generous amount of the liquid into each crystalline tumbler.

"I'm sure you're anxious to know why I summoned you here, and I want you to know that you aren't being carted off to the polar regions of Byss or shot and dumped in an alleyway," Tanomas assured, letting out a light chuckle, "No, you're here because I want to offer you an opportunity to serve the Party further. You lack political connections with the upper echelons of the government, you lack the useless powerbase that some have found prudent to construct in my confederation, and more importantly you have proven an adequate mix of ambition and duty."

The old man paused, taking a sip from his glass and letting his words sink in to the officer. "As head of the government and commander-in-chief, my attention is ever divided and I need a foreign minister to direct external relations while I focus on our inward perfection. I want you to inhabit this office, Mister Clarke."

[member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"]​

 

[Jerec Asyr]

CORELLIA
NOT THE BEST PART OF TOWN

Jerec's finger thudded on the veneer bartop.

"De-"

Thud.

"-ny-"

Thud.

"-a-"

Thud.

"-billity." He waved at the news playing on tapcaf's holoscreen. "Blue butter wouldn't melt in Graf's mouth. Either he's got moderates yelling in his ear or he wants to be good buddies while still looking strong. Mebbe both. When did jackboots get smart?"

The Wookiee bartender gave Jerec the eye. "Wrrrushi."

"Well, sure, there's that, at least he's not wearing a bucket. Hey, I got one you'll love. Two Wookiees walk into a bar, right? Barkeep says 'What'll you have?' First Wookiee says 'AROOWARRRGH.' Second Wookiee says 'Sorry about my friend, he's Mandalorian.'"

 

[Willan Tal]

Theodore savoured the fierce kick of the brandy, taking a moment to absorb the gravity of Graf's proposition. Offering the older man a restrained nod as he ran his hand along with the wooden desk, Laughing lightly at the joke about having the middle-aged Galidraani taken away and shot.​

"Always know what to say, Chancellor, I assume my position in the army is guaranteed after my ascension to foreign minister?"

Oh, holonet reporters and singers make a fantastic play of the romance of war and the nobility of being a soldier. Karking liars and charlatans. Anyone who tells tales of that nature had never been near an actual army on manoeuvres and the war campaign. Theodore found nothing noble in travelling from system to system, sleeping in a tent in the middle of a rain clogged field while trying to keep warm. Legs constantly sore from hours spent leading and traversing the front lines. All in all, he had quite enough of this war business and Mandalorians, time spent trying to convince others of their folly seemed rather attractive at this point. He was sick of fighting beat dogs and boys barely old enough to drink dressed up in Beskar.

Even the thrill of commanding his field army constantly had quickly worn off. The regiments from Kandara and the lesser systems were quarrelsome at best. They argued almost anything, and it was always daggers drawn at the slightest provocation. Well, knives, shovels, bayonets, blaster rifle, various cooking implements - whatever came to hand. Truth be told the provocation part was also misleading. No, he supposed, the simple fact was the desert people just liked to fight and argue. Which, in a way, was why he was happy he had these zealous brutes fighting for the Imperials and not the opposition.

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He could not argue his worth against the attractive opportunity to move up in the party, and if it meant more time with his family, then he would not resist it. He had already been absent repeatedly for several of his children's birthdays, and he never forgave himself for that.

"And what of the Mandalorian threat?"


[member="Tanomas Graf"]

 

[Adaska Raythe]

Adaska Raythe
Byss, Desolation Lake, Icy Maiden Pub

Sipping at a glass of white wine, Adaska lowered it for a moment to speak. The Loyalist Bartender with his ragged appearance and white hair turned to the woman as she spoke, living in a Public House had begun to rub some working-class tendencies on a woman who prior to becoming a Coruscanti Shadow lived amongst Aristocracy. "What?" She flippantly asked the holovision, without reply. A few other of her Liberal and Moderate faction party compariots turned to face the woman. "We're defending the whole core now?" Adaska's throat glowered on the question, her ire obvious. More wine was poured dutifully into the Shadow's glass, something about her presence was decidedly neurotic and irritating though none of the others could have begun to guess the reason. "The Navy and Stormies are going to be busy." Adaska Jim, the Bartender scowled towards the woman wearing his disagreement obviously on his face.

"If they were looking for an easy ride they wouldn't have joined the Stormtroopers or Navy to start with, that there is a life of adventure young miss. Make no mistake." Jim grabbed a rag and began rubbing at the inside of a glass flagon. Listening actively Adaska sipped further at the cool glass' contents before issuing a curt polite reply. "It's not about what they signed up, it's about resources, taxpayer dollars and how our soldiers dying for other core governments looks. Fighting battles that aren't our own." A few patrons nodded in agreement with Agent Raythe, though most offered polite disagreement shaking their heads but continuing to listen to Adaska and Jim's back and forth conversation, on one side was cool glowering from Raythe and smug indignation from Jim. "Who says that the Corellians or anybody else will want our help anyway? I understand this is typical foreign policy bluster. But what if push comes to shove, we act on this policy and we end up getting dragged into a three-way war unnecessarily."

Jim's thin lips cracked into a friendly smile at Adaska's earnest sincerity, he correctly perceived her griping as being the result of compassion and care for the lives of their Imperial Soldiers. "You worry too much Ray. Got to take each day as it comes." Thinking on that, it gave Adaska pause. "My apologies." She replied. "I just don't think it's a good idea." From a booth in the back she turned and caught Mikkel. a former Junior Officer of the Imperial Guard who was nearly murdered on the orders of a Puritan General who discovered the swarthy Mikkel having an affair with his daughter. "Just don't let Druwor hear you say that in a party meeting!" The comment drew chuckles and laughter from the loyalists sitting within the warm homey pub, with Adaska herself chuckling lowly. Mikkel encouraged by the laughter briefly attempted to imitate the cold dispassionate Blue Chiss Whip, picking up a pair of dark polarised glasses off the table and dropping them over the bridge of his nose. "You're permitted to possess your own thoughts and voice Outside of this room, Mikkel." Even the old and hazzled Jim chuckled at that with Adaska ever trying to uphold the discipline instilled into her by Assistant Superintendent Garnier subdued her grin into a pursed-lip smile.

[member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"], [member="Druwor"]

 

[Darth Assimilus]

" Fate may often treat me meanly... but Oh will I keenly peruse. A little mirage in the...blue." A voice sang loudly within the halls of the Corellian council chambers. A man raggedly and yet elegantly dressed waltz about the hall shuffling his feet in a dance as his mind and voice fell in sync to a tune playing within his head. " La dah de da. So come! And sit in the pews, its going to be quick a view. So step on back, relax and go hit the sack. You've had enough to chew." A suggestive wink was fired to a intern nearby. A young corellian woman who doubt blushed at the action and then did her best to compose herself. " Heh! I dont think you know what I meant. Uptight. Thats what politics did to ya. People needed to ease up, not everything was so serious! As the silver fox continued down the hall his very presence seemed to bring a sense of vibrant color to the atmosphere. This was most definitely not due to his force imbued garments he wore constantly. Oh no this was all Jeremiah himself... well thats what he would tell you anyway. Continuing to waltz about Jeremiah held a charming smile. He had only been with the Green Jedi Order a sort period of time. Most of the personnel knew Jeremiah simply as "John" and by that name he was a ghost of sorts. A dirty smuggler and scoundrel. Both titles the man was not too ashamed of either.

It beat being a parasite, also known as a politician.

" Hey. What are you doing in here?! Whats your business here?" A well dressed man aggressively called out to the Silver Fox dancing about. Jeremiah immediately closed the distance with the grace of a Mon Calamari aquatic performer. Smooth. " Sir! I do apologize I am...Lost. But! I must know where did you get your suit? You look splendid. If you could point in the direction of [member="Lisza Starseeker"]." Jeremiahs mouth quickly spun a web around the mans mind. Tuning and prodding in till the man gave in to give him what he wanted. Information and a security card. Of course with the mans permission and escort. It seemed once again Ol Jeremiah had found someone who was in the right place and at the right time.

Luck...or the force. Whatever.

Now it was true, he could of commanded the door to open with the force but... where was the fun in that? With the card pressed against the console, Jeremiah and his "friendly" escort entered inside the room through the large double doors with glee. Briefly over hearing parts of the conversation and assuming the topic was the same as outside the wiser stepped forward. His white rugged hairs shined in the florescent lighting the room emitted giving his silhouette a shine reflecting off his white robes. A nostril flared involuntarily. A message from his body that something was different about the two in front of him. Quicker than humanly possible his mental examined the two. One being the lady of action herself, Lisza Starseeker the Quath and the other being. Who was this young lad? Rather a contrast when compared to the likes of Lisza. The Arkanian by the looks reminded Jeremiah of a Cartel enforcer or debt collector of sorts. Brooding. [member="Aeneis Valdemar"]

Was that a bottle? Drinks? His mind refocused. Chest expanding his lungs inhaled what could of been a large amount of air.

" A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go! We can catch a Imp fox and put him in a box and then?" He paused looking at the two briefly before continuing with a laugh. " And then we'll let him go. Haha." Giggledust worked wonders on the mind. " Funny no?" He rolled his eyes quickly and then he bowed slightly. " Lady and gent. I am Jeremiah and I am pleased to meet, greet and be of assistance to you, the corellian government and blah blah blah! Skip the pleasantries. Now you know who I am. This kind man let me in for a chat." His tone changed slightly to something more believable than just lightly. " Alot of banshee birds have been flying about the area and we all know what banshee birds do. Trade routes, I would like to know how things will be handled in this area. " A metaphor for the corellian banshee birds in relation to the current state of the Corellian Council. Them being avians that were notoriously loud at the current moment in chatter about the recent Imperial doctrine or law. With a quick snap of his fingers the double doors shut behind him with a subtle tap. The information stated was not accessible to nearly everyone. Censorship and what not on the Corellians behalf no doubt. Force forbid mass panic and official news leaks. Blockades on the Hydian Way and Corellian run directly interfered with the Silver Foxes smuggling runs and infochant side businesses.

He was going to loose alot of credits because of this poodoo. This was why he was here. Now

" Your a jedi?" The mans escort and fellow Council member said in surprise. He was given no real response other than a brief closed eyed smile followed by two rapid blinks of annoyance as the older mans face adjusted back to a straight expression. On Jeremiahs robes was a small green jedi order pin for all too see. The man asking was clearly impudent.

 

[Druwor]

Senior Command Leader 'Druwor'​

Location: Icy Maiden Pub, Byss​

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An azure hand placed itself on the young loyalist's shoulder from the shadows, a black-suited gentleman stepping forward with an unreadable expression on his face and a glint of malice in his crimson eyes. "Mister Mikkel...if I would have known you were so adept at emulating my mannerisms...you would be on Coruscant dealing with several dozen bothersome politicians in my stead..." The chiss said just low enough for everybody in the tavern to hear, the hand on Mikkel's shoulder moving swiftly and plucking the dark-smoke glasses from his face. Druwor retrieved a pearly white handkerchief from inside his jacket and brought it up to the glasses, thoroughly cleaning them of any alien residue before he gently placed them on the bridge of his nose where they belonged.

"Thank you for supervising my spectacles, Mister Mikkel." The whip chided, the corners of his mouth bending into a slight smile that only he could see. The near-human straightened himself and meandered towards the bar, where a glass of oak-coloured whiskey was already waiting for him, which he happily returned to nursing. "Don't worry, Miss Raythe, we're not going to have you shot for disagreeing with policy - I'm not a Purist, after all." He affirmed, half-jokingly, "Really, the only reason we bothered with the doctrine was to ease our expansion and keep...undesirables...from taking our coveted territory. Plus...our chancellor wanted to name something after his hero..."

Druwor took a deep drink from his tumbler.

"...I'm more of a Thrawn fan..."

[member="Adaska Raythe"] | [member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"]​

 

[Raona Cadera]

The door hissed open suddenly and a loud, cantankerous man stumbled in. Lisza took a step back in surprise. Before she could say anything though the man started...Singing? And badly at that. Despite the man continuously asking questions he was so full of himself he didn't give the woman space to breathe, let alone speak. It seemed mostly like an overworked councilor she hadn't met had taken to the bottle a little too hard in these times but when he snapped his fingers, shutting the doors her hand pressed a small button on the underside of her table.

The threat of assasination by a "New Imperial Bloc" was something her analysts hadn't thrown out oft he realm of possibility, and with all the trouble they'd been having with Dark Jedi and rogue Sith she couldn't take any chances.

Doors on either side of the room hissed open and a pair of of Darksabers moved to surround the mysterious Force User. But before they could pull the trigger on their blasters a glint caught her eye. A green pin from the Green Jedi adorned the man's tunic.

"Wait!" Without a second thought the two menacing Darksabers halted their advance, though they kept their blasters trained on him as they made their way to take up defensive positions between Lisza and what she could only assume to be a Green Jedi.

Lisza took a tentative step forward.

"Who are you?"
[member="Jeremiah Jade"] [member="Aeneis Valdemar"]

 

[Adaska Raythe]

Adaska Raythe
Byss, Desolation Lake, Icy Maiden Pub

Mikkel's performance froze, paralysed by the grip on his shoulder not because it in itself possessed any great strength or mystical power but because an icy voice which followed closely behind its' gentle rest on perch. Stunned into silence it wasn't difficult for the Icy Maiden's Loyalist patrons to hear Druwor's words. Adaska's Icy Blue eyes watched the scenario unfold with bleak amusement, watching the Chiss wipe his glasses strangely as if he believed there something undesirable upon them though even with her unnaturally powerful and focused eyesight the Shadow couldn't discern precisely what necessitated Druwor perform that action.

Adaska noted that there was something about Druwor's body language that suggessted his cold anger was false....Or exaggerated, she thought it was curious. Druwor sat on a stool beside the "Hands" of the Loyalist Coalition and re-assured the woman darkly that he wasn't going to have her shot stating in a semi-jesting tone. "No, you just have me liquidate purists suspected of being involved in a treasonous plot to remove the High Chancellor" Reaching down casually to a square-shaped device hanging from her belt in a pouch she inspected what was unmistakably Adaska's notorious Telescoping Phrik Sword. "So little literature survives from the period of the Galactic Empire, but from what I read I'm impressed by a 'Colonel Yularen' who allegedly worked for the original Imperial Security Bureau."

With head hung low and chilly blue spheres locked on Druwor's indigo pallor. "So, a target sir? I presume you're here because there is a Purist who needs to be removed from the board." Adaska spoke in a hushed tone, not that she did not trust the other patrons of the Icy Maiden Pub all universally disgraced or pariah'd for one reason or another and members of the Clandestine Liberal-Moderate Loyalist Coalition.

[member="Druwor"], [member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"]

 

[Druwor]

Senior Command Leader 'Druwor'​

Location: Icy Maiden Pub, Byss​

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Druwor carefully set down his drink and leaned forward, his crimson oculi just barely visibly above the rim of his spectacles. "In the event of a decisive Imperial victory on Kiros...which at this point is a certainty...A celebration of sorts will be hosted in and around the Imperial Palace on Coruscant..." He uttered quietly, swiftly handing her a folded piece of paper, the style of which resembling the archaic memos that some would use in the Imperial Senate to keep information from being sliced.

"Your target is one Hali Saro, the Director of the Imperial Security Bureau. While not a Purist himself, he is under the influence of Orlov and could prove problematic in the future handling of sensitive intelligence." The whip informed, his hand clenching into a fist for a split second, "Equipment and contacts are here. Ciphered Atrisian Basic - nobody except you, I, and the Chancellor's protocol droid know what is on this paper."

The Chiss paused to consider his words for a moment "Saro is not to be killed, but exposed as a...connoisseur of alien biology...something his spouse will not take kindly to. He will resign and we will be able to appoint a more sympathetic director for the time being." He grasped the tumbler in his hand, downing the rest of the amber liquid within, "The Imperial Guard will not know of your mission and will try to apprehend or dispatch you if they believe you a threat to the Chancellor's safety; at any rate, you are authorized to incapacitate but not liquidate them."

[member="Adaska Raythe"]​

 

[Adaska Raythe]

Adaska Raythe
Byss, Desolation Lake, Icy Maiden Pub

Adaska reached across the space between herself and Druwor, seizing the folded note in a firm grip she pulled it across the bar and unfolded it across the surface her glacial blue spheres began reading the hand-written Atrisian-Basic ciphered script, its' contents made Agent Raythe's lips tug into a smile she simply couldn't resist. Black Ink Adaska throught wordlessly How very proper Looking towards Druwor's face and the black lenses which concealed his pair of unsettling crimson fiery eyes, Agent Raythe listened to the man identify her target even though such information had already been disclosed on the note he'd handed to her. "Saro?" Adaska blinked, her pallor tugged into a thoughtful scowl. "Unpopular with the rank-and-file Agents of the Bureau, he was appointed to the position of Director with help from Orlov if I recall correctly. It was rumoured the two are close personal friends." Adaska nodded approvingly. "It will be done, my Lord."

Certainly Druwor had to experience nothing but pleasure from being addressed respectfully by a woman who could no-doubt easily kill him as 'My Lord'. It wasn't just Adaska's training speaking either, the woman held Theodore and Druwor in the highest respect for aiding her escape from the Midnight Detention Facility. "I was going to say that I have little intention or desire of killing any servant of his Majesty's Imperial Government....I'm not even sure I want to see Orlov, Vengar or Jaesa killed, a friend of mine would say 'They should be brought to justice' and I reluctantly agree." Adaska took another long gulp of the wine contained in a glass, she could never be brought so low to drink beer or whiskey, the first to the woman tasted of some liquid used in an internal combustion engine and the latter some manner of poison.

She scowled at the ease with which Druwor swallowed the amber fluid and she quickly suppressed a disgusted shudder. "Yes, Sir. I will try to use the minimum amount of force necessary to accomplish my objective and ensure the safety of uninvolved parties." It was a textbook and very formal answer to give. "Looks like I'll be spiking his drink and getting him intoxicated before arranging the setup's execution."

[member="Druwor"]

 

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Location: The Imperial Palace, Coruscant​

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"You will remain a general in the Imperial military, if you so wish. But I would ask that you cut down on your excursions to the front lines..." Tanomas assured, swirling the amber liquid around, "...unless you've the proper protection, that is." He shifted in the armchair, his posture straightening at the mention of the Mandalorians, as if the very name put the older man on edge. "The Mandalorians...are a tricky situation at the moment..." The high chancellor admitted, eyes peering downward for a split second, "They refuse to fight us on the battlefield, yet they also refuse to submit. Their participation in this war is an oxymoron that I wish to see rectified by the end of the Lion's Roar Offensive."

He stood, his augmented form towering over Theodore, and lumbered over to a small holoprojector on the nearby table; pressing down on a switch, an expansive map of the galaxy sprung to life. Zooming in towards the Inner Rim, he turned back towards his guest "Yasha Cadera and her retinue of fanatics seem to believe that our sole purpose is to conquer the lands that they themselves have invaded; however, our efforts during this war could be equated towards a massive public relations stunt." Tanomas explained, highlighting several star systems south of the Obroa-skai system, "This is our purpose, Mister Clarke. To liberate these systems and convince them that this so-called Mand'alor is nothing more than a little girl in a dog helmet. Furthermore, to convince the Sith that they were mistaken in choosing the Mandalorians over us."

Chancellor Graf clapped his hands together, giving him a small smile, "This is the situation I give you, if you choose to assist me further in the Confederation's endeavours. We must show the Galaxy as a whole that our version of the Imperial ideology is beneficial to all - not just those that inhabit our territories. Starting with the Core, and then onwards to greatness."

[member="Theodore Royce-Clarke"]​

 

[Druwor]

Senior Command Leader 'Druwor'​

Location: Icy Maiden Pub, Byss​

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Druwor nodded thoughfully as he listened to Adaska, motioning for the bartender to refill his tumbler with another round of the dark whiskey that the near-human seemed to enjoy.

"Sedating the asset seems to be the wisest approach, any injection marks on his body can be labeled as an addiction to narcotics." He mused, setting his glass on a coaster, "An officer of the Coruscant Security Force will be providing an inordinate amount of potential...suitors...for Saro to be caught with." The Chiss turned his head away for a split second, mumbling something about 'maker know's how she managed' before redirecting his attention to his acquaintance.

"At any rate, everything else can be decided at your leisure. You may contact me during the mission via a secure channel that I have provided to you; even still, use codenames." He drawled, once again downing his drink in the blink of an eye, "I will permit you the rest of the period upto the event to plan. The Emperor protects."

The whip rose from his barstool, departing in the direction of the establishment's exit. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to stare directly at Adaska:

"By the way, Miss Raythe. Don't call me 'my Lord'. Not yet."

[member="Adaska Raythe"]​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Captain Marriskcal Lati - Du Couteau,
Commissariat for State Security & Force-Related Affairs
Equipment: Uniform (Made of Shell Spider Silk), Lightsabre x2 (Azure & Cyan), and Throwing Knives
Location: Undisclosed Hanging Gardens, Imperial Palace, Coruscant
Interacting with: None

In yet another part of the Imperial Palace, buried deep and far away from the core artery that was favoured by its inhabitants, was one Marriskcal Lati. Unfolded before her was one of the many hanging gardens that were hidden within the opulent complex, built for the pleasure of those who stayed within its walls and called the structure home. And even while the leaves and grass continued to sway and rustle to the whisper of a zephyr, and an unseen brook continued to burble its gentle refrain, her mind remained far and her eyes distant.

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf unsettled her.

Both his presence and his existence.

And despite having accompanied him on rare occasions, his aura was continued to be a serrated gash on the lifestream that was the Force. Oh, he burned with the similar blaze innate to Alpha-One. Yet, unlike the others of his ilk, there was something dark that tainted his signature. While Marriskcal was capable of a great many atrocities, the young lady still found herself standing resolutely on the light side of the spectrum, wielding a healing touch amongst her diverse skills. But though the oldyoung chancellor continued to agitate her senses, she wore the neutral veneer of professionalism the rare times she escorted him, ensuring that none would tamper or interfere with the sanctity of his mind.

It was her brother’s regard and loyalty to this… being that troubled Marriskcal most. Even now, the blonde could not fathom what her brother saw in the man that stood at the apex of the imperium. Why him? What was it about him that Seto believed in so fervently that he would abandon his avowed siblings for this Tanomas Graf? As a creature who found herself unbound and released from the service under an unworthy Lord and Master, she was wary of him.

More so after the listening to his declaration less than an hour ago.

For stormclouds gathered at the horizon.