Victory Processional

[Taeli Raaf]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdKs2FYPyGk​

[SIZE=11pt]Ravelin, Bastion, Braxant Sector[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It had taken far more time to organize than anyone would have liked, thanks to the various Rebel cells and their attacks on the Sith Empire. But come, it finally had. A mighty triumph had been arranged in the capital city of the Empire, Ravelin, in celebration of the Empire’s victory over the Galactic Alliance and the victories won on Coruscant, Fondor, and so many other worlds in the massive campaign.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Thousands upon thousands of soldiers and officers, in full dress uniform and adorned with various medals of valor and service paraded down the streets of the city. Even more marched in perfect formation, their armor spotlessly gleaming, weapons at attention and a salute in place. Hundreds of thousands of civilians watched along the parade route cheering. For those unable to directly get a spot at the front, holo-images of the parade were scattered across the city. Screens had been erected, showing recordings from the battle. The destruction of the Vanguard and the Jedi Temple were especially popular, and a roar of exultation would rise up every time those videos cycled through.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Behind the soldiers were the enemy, prisoners, soldiers, Jedi, and bureaucrats alike, captured from the Alliance and the foolish Rebels that had tried to attack Dubrillion. Chains rattled as they walked, the Jedi forced to wear Force Inhibitor collars. Boos and jeers followed them, their eyes blank as humiliation was heaped upon them. These souls, once the parade concluded and the parties began in earnest, would be shipped to Kol Huro or wherever else it was deemed necessary.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Patriotic music blared, inspiring and full of the power and might only this Sith Empire could project. And overlooking it all, from a raised dais built in front of the Emperor’s Palace, there would be the Emperor himself, raised above all others. Arrayed around him would be the high officers of the Sith Empire and the most prominent of the Sith Lords and Ladies, and among them, those who had played a major role in the destruction of the hated Alliance.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]All her hard work had paid off, and the parade before was in celebration of that victory. Taeli remembered, once, how she had been on the margins of the One Sith. She may have been a Lord, but her old Master had seen to it that she was a pariah. It had taken so much effort and time to move beyond that shadow. Now…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Now she sat near the hand of the Emperor himself. The Rebels might be trying to halt the spread of their Empire, but with the destruction of the Alliance, the brightest bastion of the light, their efforts were futile in the end. Dubrillion had been retained, and even now, preparations were underway for a retalitory strike against the Rebels. The sight before her only confirmed in her heart that the galaxy desired Imperial rule… and only the Order that the Sith could bring to bear on such a chaotic galaxy.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]OOC:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]This thread is a triumph, a party essentially, for all the hard work that went into Endgame and the invasions/rebellions of the past few months. Join the parade or sit among the Sith Lords and Ladies. Be among the crowd cheering, or even start a party somewhere in the capital. This thread is intended to be a social and relaxing time, mingle with others you haven’t before and enjoy![/SIZE]

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Ravelin, Bastion​

Cheers and jeers filled the air alongside the unified marching of boot.

The streets were alive with people, civilian and military alike as the parade was in full swing. This day, perhaps out of every day, showed the true values of the Sith Empire and its citizens; national zeal, a pride of the accomplishments of their military and its ever expanding might and a willingness to serve. Whilst most were in good spirits and the thousands of soldiers kept up their march, it was perhaps apparent to some among the crowd that, when the 31st came around the corner and marched to the rhythm that had been drilled into their heads to ensure that they looked as presentable as the standards decreed, their commanding officer was not among them. Rumors from his past had already began to circulate, enjoying the comfort of keeping himself busy and occupied with military affairs rather than allowing himself reprieve or social contact. A true son of the battlefield, raised upon its harrowing earth to the screams of death and guns. Whilst those below let their guard down, with rightful reason with what being in the heart of the Sith Empire, the Major had perched himself high above atop one of the rooftops, watching over the parade like a silent vigil; to him, if the enemy was to strike, now was the most opportune time whilst the entire Empire's back was turned.

If there was anyone who was to act as security, it was him.

Through the scope of a rifle that he had requisitioned from the Quartermaster, the ever vigilant shepherd watched over his flock with an analytical gaze. The enemy could be hiding in plain sight, worming its way through the crowds to find their spot, ready to spring their trap. To others, this might have seemed like a serious case of paranoia but to Vestille, this was his purpose, his responsibility. Doctrine made it clear that hostile elements much akin to the rebel forces fought off at Dubrillion had the capacity to blend in with the crowds and hide in plain sight and wait for their plot to come into play. The monumental task of keeping eyes on everyone present through the sight of the scope was no doubt going to be a long and strenuous task but, if it were anyone else, it would perhaps be impossible. Vestille's sheer zeal and dedication to protocol and orders was nothing short of impressive if perhaps a touch overbearing but that wasn't the only reason. The beast remained under wraps, contained despite the perfect opportunity to unleash and drink its fill of slaughter sat taunting its very existence; by keeping himself occupied with serious matters, it gave him something to focus on, something to keep at the front of his mind and prevent giving the serpents of shadow a chance to fill that gap; a wall to keep out the darkness that stirred deep within his psyche.

In truth, a slight spark of fear was hidden deep beneath the stoicism and the horror, a fear that if he let loose and broke his guise, it would be the last thing he ever did.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Dante wasn't marching.

She wasn't in the crowd cheering either.

Dante was in a nearby bar. Drinking.

Surprise.

No, not really.

Technically she was on leave after Rimcee, but being on Bastion today wasn't exactly voluntary. Not for a Major in the Legion. She mulled over that, poking it, still annoyed beyond measure that [member="Jairus Starvald"] had gone over her head when she'd denied her last two promotions. She hadn't wanted to be anything higher than a Lieutenant. As it was, being responsible for that many lives had been a couple too many. She was good with pair work. Her, a spotter. Or her as support for another operative. Small scale. VERY small scale. But this was not where she excelled. This wasn't her wheelhouse. Oh, command thought it was. So that was it she guessed.

She heard the shouting through the walls of the bar. There was a thing later- some sort of shindig. She was supposed to show up in formal wear or dress uniform.

Dante made a quiet fart noise with her mouth.

Then another mouthful of ale.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Sith Emperor watched the procession and subsequent festivities from atop his throne, which was raised several meters off of the ground by a tiered plinth and decorated with the most grandiose and gaudy of Imperial iconography. He wore a large burgundy robe, made of a velvet-like fabric and ornamented with esoteric Sith symbols emblazoned in brilliant gold. There would be very few among the presently gathered who could ascertain the origin of the symbols, but those that could recognize them would know that they were very ancient and very important runes of victory and darkness. The Emperor was steeped in the history and culture of the ancient Sith, and often proudly flaunted his order's history in both his clothing, demeanor and the architecture of his domains.

Around him were other Sith Lords and military officers, all of who played a key role in the destruction of the Alliance and the Jedi. Warriors, sorcerers, admirals, generals, turncoats, informants, and everything in-between. The Lady [member="Taeli Raaf"] was elevated above most of the others, due in part to her subterfuge as a Jedi Master of the New Jedi Order. It was she who had supplied the Emperor with the location of the Jedi's principle strongholds within the Alliance and the knowledge of the Vanguard's development and construction. Through her, the Emperor had seeded chaos and destruction within the heart of the Alliance, tainting it with the Dark Side of the Force.

And now, ten years of struggle and planning had at last paid off.

The citizens of the Empire would come to know Taeli Raaf as the author of the Alliance's destruction, and she would be lauded with gifts and acknowledgments by the Sith Empire's elite. It was clear to everyone assembled that the Emperor had given Lady Raaf his favor, as she wore many symbols of his power on her person.

Carnifex leaned down to pose a question to the Lady of Secrets, "Could you have imagined this ten years ago? The Jedi were none the wiser, and they paid for their lack of clarity."

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Bastion

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Ravelin
[member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

Parades and celebrations of an Empire's triumph, how many of these had Fiolette attended in her life? Countless, but it was always the same, it gave the people something to cheer for a reminder of what their Empire was doing on their behalf. It showed off their military prowess, and in this case the achievements of one particular Sith. Fiolette watched from a distance, the Rear Admiral opted to let the other naval commanders take lead. She was comfortable watching Taeli shine a soft smile tugged at the Galidraani's lips and while some would presume it was due to her part on Fondor, they would be wrong. An azure gaze cut from the Lady of Secrets and the Emperor and just beyond the dais, where the crowd cheered and celebrated.

The black and gray uniform on her shoulders the insignia of Rear Admiral down where the ancient Sith Empire of the Old Republic once had them. Hair pulled back, hands behind her back at ease. She felt good, Dubrillion while trying had been a success and it meant that she could move forward within the Sith Armada. The defender of Dubrilion ribbon and corresponding medal opposite of her rank. It adorned her uniform and was now part of a number of service ribbons carried over from prior service. It was here that she heard a familiar voice, "Admiral?"

Fiolette turned to see the man, "my, my, Lieutenant Tarkin?"

"Captain now, but yes, what an honor and a pleasure."

"Please," Fiolette remarked with a smile, "I hadn't a clue that you were with the Sith Legion."

Ranulph nodded, "I have been, unit and I transferred just before the invasion of L-49. Hadn't known you were here until I saw that." The man of Eriadu gestured to the screens when Fondor's part played once more. "I'd recognize those ships anywhere."

"Is that- you were on Dubrillion?" She asked whilst pointing out the ribbon on his uniform.

"Ah yes, 52nd actually."

The admiral smirked, "good to know it was you down there."

"Ah! Yes, yeah I hadn't known who gave the order just that the Colonel sent me and the boys down to bring comms back."

Fiolette chuckled softly, "my what a turn of events, say, Captain. Mind if I have you and your men transferred to my command?"

"Oh absolutely, feel free." He stepped forward and to the side as to not be in the way.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Ravelin, Bastion​

He could feel it, snapping at the back of his skull.

In truth, Bastion was perhaps the safest place in the whole Galaxy at the moment in time. Security was at the correct level for the time being and the possibility of the Rebels daring to play their hand in the capital of the Empire? Nonexistent, no matter how many times the Major scanned through the scope of the cold metal rifle within his hands. Vestille lived for the battlefield, thrived upon it, dare say he even depended on the mud, blood and fire that brought only pain, misery and death; a drug that kept both the humanity ticking and the beast sated with every time he slipped into the abyss of slaughter. To put an animal in a civilized society, this peace, the psyche began to question the lack of its favored environment, the beast began to rear its head and sense a lack of offerings to keep it from spiraling out of control. To allow himself to turn feral here on Bastion would be to sentence himself to death, especially at a time like this when the entire Empire was watching Ravelin with joy and bliss filling their minds; he would become a traitor, a target of hatred on no doubt the same level as the enemy that he had put to the sword time and time again.

Something had to be done.

Slinging the rifle upon his back, the Major took to descending from the building and into the busy streets shifting through the crowds of cheering and zealous citizens that had been the incentive for many of his own men to fight; to protect their families and, to the Gravewalkers, achieve that status of a national hero that the Sovereignty had prayed upon in their recruitment drives and core doctrines. For Vestille, he found no satisfaction in either, no matter how many times he was patted on the back or tugged by the occasional man or woman who recognized him, trying to get his picture or anything else that put him on a higher social ladder than them thanks to his deeds for the Sith and their sprawling Empire. To the Major, the one who had seen hell itself and fought the demons that spawned from the fractures deep within his psyche, he fought because it was the only thing he could hold onto; doctrine. No social visits or calls, no hobby, nothing could ever bring a sense of ease to his suffering soul outside of throwing him into the thick of combat again and again and again. To those he knew and those who knew of him, Vestille never seemed to rest or show signs of tiredness, a clockwork soldier with the internals ticking away with no signs of stopping. As the sea of people required a helping hand in parting as he walked, his eyes came across a bar.

Everything started to ring alarm bells within his head but perhaps this was necessary; fighting the enemy within by using unorthodox tactics, become the opposite of everything he once was.

He stepped inside, noticing that quite a few heads turned at the sudden sight of the Major; alert and perhaps even alarmed that he had stepped through the door. After all, Vestille was stoic and a man that followed doctrine and regulations to the very letter and ensured that the men of the Legion were held up to the same standard; under his command or not. It was clear that among the various patrons stood a number of Legionaries and the occasional dash of fleet officers, pilots and whatever else. They held their breath, waiting for Vestille to start barking and pressing his will and anger upon them for daring to avoid the processional, not be in their dress uniform and present what they fought for. A majority of their eyes were upon him, some looked away but the bar was ultimately silent and waiting for the judgement and the call to pick themselves up and fall back in line, their expectations and stigma of the Major and his overzealous tendencies ready to spring.

Nobody expected what happened next; Vestille walking into a far corner of the bar and sitting himself down, alone. Very slowly did the ambiance return to normal.

It was almost like he didn't exist.

[member="Dante Sotari"]

 

[Taeli Raaf]

[member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

Taeli's purple eyes roamed, stopping for just a moment as she saw Fiolette and smiled ever so slightly. She did look rather dashing in full dress uniform. She covered up her inattention by turning her eyes back to the procession before her. This was power, to be sure, the power of the Sith Empire. And wasn't just shown in the soldiers parading, or the captives being herded. It was the crowd that had gathered to watch, here and elsewhere across the ever-expanding sphere of the Sith. The citizenry had faith in the Empire to keep their interests safe, to bring order to the galaxy.

But these men and women were a base power. The dark side itself was power unimaginable. She had started things now. The Emperor, the Shadow Hand, and she had begun to tip the balance of the Force. Every Jedi that died or went to war was another tiny adjustment to the scales, ever increasing the weight of the darkness. This victory, the destruction of the Alliance, only meant their work could be accelerated. So when the Emperor asked his question of her, she turned her gaze up to his raised throne.

"A faint dream at most, my Lord," she responded. "So much could have gone wrong, undone our work. My only regret is Corvus disappeared before I could turn her, but no. But I wouldn't trade those ten years away. My time among the Jedi taught me many things... and opened my eyes to something far more. We have fashioned a fulcrum to pivot the balance, and soon, we need only the power of the dark side to bring order."

 

[Dante Sotari]

While the majority of the bar had held it's breath, there was one patron in particular who continued on as though nothing were happening. There was no indication that the woman seated at the bar even noticed the arrival of the Major in question, or the tension running rampant through the bar.

As it happened, she had. A brief flicker of hazel eyes up into the reflection of the long mirror hanging behind the bar. But that had been all.

She raised a finger, indicating she'd take a refill right before the energy of the place shifted back into closer to normal tones- still strained and she could feel it, but the conversation started to pick back up and worries slowly eased again. Nothing a few drinks wouldn't solve. The whole thing had slid off of her like water off of a duck, but oh, she'd noticed.

Dante just didn't care.

Once he sat down, she raised another finger and pointed. A local ale, dark and bitter, a hint of salt, ended up in front of [member="Vestille Thumahra"].

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Ravelin, Bastion​

You don't belong here.

Whilst sat alone in his dark corner with the occasional glance thrown his way, it was perhaps the first time in a long while that he had chance to mull things over, reflect upon his own condition and realize just how messed up everything had become. Sat in the shadow of the masters of the Dark Side, soaking up both their influence and the aura of the powers that they commanded, what had been a mental condition was now a plague but ultimately a part of his core concept like a mutation that could not simply be put to the side, covered up or ignored. It was in everything he did, ready to close its jaws on logical solutions and encase them in shadow as the lust for blood and murder reigned. His kill count, personal and by his orders, must have been somewhere in the hundreds; innocents, enemy combatants, it never seemed to care or differentiate between the two or how the swinging of the sword should be carried out. There was a constant struggle deep within the psyche of the Major, a never-ending war between morality and monstrosity, doctrine and savagery and whilst it seemed that logic kept the hold of the majority, how long until the balance was shifted upon its head for good?

The mold had to be broken. No matter how much it screamed.

The helmet, his face soon found itself loosened and removed, revealing a sight that had been hidden away from the Galaxy like a cursed treasure. A man with the stress of enacting the silent vigil against the darkness that tainted his presence woven into his features. He looked much older than he actually was, the aftershock of conflict baring down upon him again and again and again with no real end in sight. A twisted gaze exhaustion mixed with apathy and a sense that everything behind it worked off a mindset that cracked the whip and gave the warning that letting himself stop would be the end of everything. The dim lighting and being able to bask in the shadows of the corner gave him a sense of ease from the sudden discomfort that came from taking the leap of faith out of his comfort zone, even if his facial expression didn't show the hesitancy or the fear that came with not knowing what to do; social interactions or environments were never his thing so this... This was enemy territory, the unknown abyss of having to try and blend in with the crowd.

Perhaps the drink in front of him, ordered by a woman at the counter. He didn't know her nor even acknowledge that she had been the one to give him the opening he needed to chance his tactics to the ever-burning internal war. With a hand reaching for the presented pint of ale that sat on the table before him, Vestille took the plunge.

Drowning his sorrows.

[member="Dante Sotari"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Indeed, the power of the Dark Side will eclipse any technological terror we or our enemies fashion."

This reliance on soldiers, of warships and of durasteel and combustion was nothing more than a temporary measure. As the Sith Empire grew in strength, so too did its diabolical Emperor as he scoured the galaxy for ancient lore, places of power, and bountiful sacrifices. Already thousands of former Alliance civilians were being displaced by chaos and war, and the Empire was always there, watching and waiting, to reap a plentiful harvest from the vagrants and fleeing masses. Their lives meant very little to someone as wicked as the Sith Emperor, who would sacrifice billions of souls if it meant that he could achieve his maddening goals of galactic domination and ultimate power through the Dark Side.

And with every rotation the Emperor felt himself growing closer to his goal, the destruction of his most vehement of enemies left the galaxy undefended against his influences. "Nothing can stop us now, my friend. Our chains are truly broken." There came more fanfare, more adoration, and displays of loyalty to the Empire. The regime had only existed for a few scant years, but it had already hooked its talons in deep. The Imperial Mission worked tirelessly, day and night, to thoroughly integrate Imperial propaganda into the everyday lives of the Imperial citizens, weaving Sith teachings into their daily routine until it became the status quo.

Soon the galaxy would be incapable of resisting them.

[member="Taeli Raaf"]​

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The Wolf stood tall, basked in the light. In the shadow of the Sith's glory, stood the raging fire. Sith parted ways from him, as he had his hands folded behind his back. Even in his quiet, contemplative state, watching the Dark Lord, and his subjects. Preliat didn't have any sort of covering on- but the armor, and the towering presence he made was evidence enough of who he was.

He came towards [member="Taeli Raaf"] and [member="Darth Carnifex"] when the Dark Lord mentioned breaking chains. "Look at all this." His hands, glad in their crushgaunts-flexed at the small of his back, as he watched the proceedings of victory. "How much you've sacrificed to get here. How much you will sacrifice to keep it." He looked outwards, then to the Dark Lord. "There will always be something to stop you. Some great obstacle that you all will never be able to overcome. I have observed it personally- and had a hand in it's downfall." It was a well known fact that Preliat was present when the throne was destroyed on Dromund Kaas- and that he was one of the ones that had a hand in that world burning.

"I do hope that this time will be different for the Sith. That your victory will be lasting. That it will mean something this time- Kaine." Preliat mulled over the idea of breaking the weak-formed Dark Lord. In his present state, Preliat did not fear the Dark Lord. Preliat feared nothing- he killed the last man he feared. "But, tell me, Dark Lord- do you have an attainable goal? A tangible thing to hold onto? Or are you another petty Sith- going after the ill-conceived notion of "ultimate power", and "total control"? I hope you are different, and less of the same. For your Empire's sake."

Amber eyes turned to the other present.

"Miss Raaf." He said curtly. He had an accent, an ever-so-slight one, at that. Preliat had rarely spoken Basic before his time outside Mandalorian space. It was still...new to him. The way he said her name- was almost with a hint of respect, admiration.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] l [member="Taeli Raaf"]​

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Pomp and circus all around, the crowds, the bands it was all for the glorified purpose of the Empire. "And, I see here you have found another lost First Imperial." Fiolette joked with Tarkin upon seeing his sergeant. "Vasquez isn't it? Yes, how good to see you as well, you were all with the 103rd if I recall." She nodded in acknowledgment and smiled the conversation moved to the new work within the 52nd. "Ah yes well I aim to do a bit more work with the 52nd, looking at possible ground training. Oh yes, yes, well, I want to diversify myself so I have a better understanding of what you are all going through on the ground."

"No of course not, oh... yes, well, Lord Admiral Horus. Ah, the Commonwealth they were such a wonderful group. Yes, I had heard some integrated with the First Order." The talk switched to Castameer or Omega as most knew it as. The uniformed soldiers spoke with the admiral at length her back now turned slightly to the Emperor and the Sith Lady. As she spoke with them, the woman noticed the hulk of armor that paraded himself by. She watched from her peripheral as he made his seemingly uncontested stride toward his Majesty. Fiolette turned her attention back to them and decided to finish up her conversation. "It has been quite lovely catching up with you all, and I shall speak with the two of you soon enough. If you'll excuse me."

The former grand admiral-turned-rear admiral quietly made her way through the crowd just in time to catch [member="Preliat Mantis"]' words, "your Ladyship." She corrected, "a pleasure to see you as always, your Majesty." A bow of respect for [member="Darth Carnifex"] as the Galidraani then moved to stand just to the side of [member="Taeli Raaf"]. "Must say this certainly makes any celebration I've known in the past to be quite diminutive."