PUBLIC A Life Ended, A Life Begun [Fel Imperium Funeral]

Discussion in 'Open Roleplaying' started by Maxim Fel, Jun 24, 2021.

  1. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    The Jedi Kalja Tal'Vera had stood to greet him even before the Chief of State had, and something about that gave Maxim a twisting feeling in his gut that he couldn't quite make sense of.

    "Jedi" Maxim acknowledged with a frigid edge, his steely gaze locked on her features for a moment. Her skin was light and golden, her hair platinum like curls of threaded silver, and her eyes made him think of what he imagined an ocean looked like. She was attractive, and he was sure his younger brother would fawn over her - but she was still a Jedi.


    His lessons on Operation Knightfall came to the forefront of his mind. The Imperium had begun teaching about how flimsy, democratic bureaucracy had allowed the Old Jedi to corrupt the people, puppeteer a war and feed chaos instead of vanquish it. Many individual voices among politically inclined Jedi had railed against it...but as far as Maxim and most Imperials, it had been for the greater good.

    He still wasn't convinced that modern Jedi were any better.

    Turning back to Kairi Leidias, Maxim bowed his head in appreciation at her condolences. Then, looking The Chief of State directly in the eye, the young Heir lied to her face, "I've had my time to grieve, it's time to look forward - towards a brighter galaxy..." was there even such a thing to be had anymore? His father had left him with little more than a shattered heart and a crumbling Empire. His father's passing was a deep, dark cloud that'd been cast into the storm sweeping The Imperium.

    Ronin should have prepared him more, should have done more. He should have karking lived to teach him more...but he hadn't and that was that. Maxim pushed the dreadful thoughts deep down and let his drive to succeed fuel the rest of his, much more truthful, response.

    "... But I assure you, lady Leidias, my resolve has never been stronger. " A warning and a truth. Leidias was known in the Imperium for her anti-Imperial sentiment. He'd long heard Moffs and his father speaking of her problematic stances...Maxim had no intention of being bullied by The New Republic. He thought he was prepared for her to mention the real reason she was here, but when she spoke of the truce, it sent a fire into his chest.

    "If you can't possibly wait until after my father's coffin is cold, then fine. We can discuss it." he didn't try to disguise the edge in his voice, despite the obvious contradiction he was creating in himself after claiming he had done his grieving. He knew he shouldn't be losing his temper. Such diplomatic dealings were to be expected...but just like with his sadness, the spite in his heart overcame his mind with a muddy haze, "you and your dignitaries can be escorted to the throne room. I'll meet you there once all the real mourners have paid their respects."

    Before the Chief of State could finish her response, Maxim turned towards Axius and waved the captain of the guard over. "Captain! Escort the Chief of State to the throne room, I need to see to the guests..." turning back, Maxim scowled, "and my family. I'll see you soon, Chief of State."


    Maxim turned and stormed away before he found himself saying more that he should not have. He moved like a storm cloud through the wake, his eyes catching sight of his family just as a small child with pink hair (Funami Teriyaki ) came tearing into the feast hall. The Heir spared her only a raised eyebrow as she ran towards the table, butting through line to get to the food. Apparently, someone else found it fit to disrespect the dead. Who lets their child run around a wake like this?

    Maxim made a mental note to see to the meaning of it later. If it was an Imperial Officer responsible, then there would be a price...whatever price that may have been. For now, however, Maxim pushed the note to the back of his mind and stormed up to his family...silent but brooding.

    He was never good at sharing.
     
    #21 Maxim Fel, Jul 1, 2021
    Last edited: Jul 1, 2021
  2. Paragon of the Republic

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    Kairi bowed her head, waiting until his back was turned to make a slight face. She hated being the one to deliver the news and disrupt a peaceful ceremony with politics – but she had her own interests. As parts of the delegation split up, Kairi raised two fingers up and the remaining guards stayed behind – perhaps a display of confidence she not only had in her protectors, but also that the Empire wouldn’t be looking for trouble.

    She said nothing during the brief walk, following behind the Captain closely. As they entered the Throne Room, the Imperial bowed and dismissed himself – no doubt on to do some other Imperial tasks.

    And there Kairi was, in the midst of the Imperial heart...

    And all she could do was put a brave face on, and disguise her nausea from standing on such ground. She felt disgusted when she thought of the holo-vid on the History of the Empire. One which placated all the events, all the atrocities the Empire committed against the Galaxy. For them to have said that Sheev Palpatine was just a misguided Senator, or some non-sense.

    She cringed, taking a brief walk around in a circle, hands clasped behind her back. She studied the features of the room, the intricate designs on the walls – the cold, cold steel that was polished to a sheen.

    It screamed Imperial.

    And it took everything for Kairi not to scream at it.

    It was no hidden secret that she despised the Empire. It was evident in everything she did. She even half-expected an ill-fated attempt on her life, but she had made it through the ceremony. Perhaps these Imperials were different.

    Maxim Fel | Aella Fel | Nikitis Fel | Tyra Kadenze | Darth Cerebrous | Corin
     
  3. Kalja Tal'Vera

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    Kalja felt the uneasiness, in that brief interaction with the Eighth Emperor – something for another time.

    ~Tyra, wait a second...~ But she felt the girl was already well on her way. Almost excitedly, it would seem. Kalja reached further into the Force, pressing against the cold, black that emanated from the Throne Room. A voice called out through the Force, a whisper, darkened as the void in the Force.

    ~Padawan, the Chief of State is on the move – most of the other delegates have remained behind.~ She looked to her left, and confirmed the number of delegates remaining behind. And then she felt the cold tendrils of the Dark Side. They encompassed her Padawan, then retreated into the folds of the Force. Kalja winced slightly, as her connection with her Padawan felt severed. She rose up quickly, grabbing onto her robes and tossing them over herself as she maneuvered through the crowd.

    Kalja would gesture with her hand, concealing herself from within the Force. Her presence nearly fading, even to the most keen of Masters. As she disappeared in the lines of the Force, she would pull her hood up and over head head - blending into the crowd quickly.

    She would be on the move as well, towards the darkness, towards her Padawan.



    Maxim Fel | Aella Fel | Nikitis Fel | Tyra Kadenze | Darth Cerebrous | Corin
     
  4. Nikitis Fel

    Nikitis Fel The Illustrious High Moff
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    Nikitis sat there letting Aella talk, she needed to. His duty was not to correct her, it was to give her the shoulder she needed. To let her espouse how she felt about Ronin, about what had happened. She was blind to just how much their father had cared, it would take time for her to see it. Till that day, Nikitis planned to be there for Aella like Ronin wished. In the silence between them, Nikitis’ embrace became tighter loosening as his sister decided she’d had enough.

    Accepting the hand offered, the chiss rose to his full height towering over his sister. Smiling down at her, his blue hands embraced the young woman’s cheeks. “I missed you too Aella, you’ve grown so much! I remember you being that little girl always arguing with Maxim, dirtying herself in the Ravelon gardens. You have become a wonderful woman.” Thumbs wiping away the tears of his younger sister, Nikitis helped clean her face, turning her cheek slightly.

    “Though your choice in facial decorations is something we’ll have to discuss. I thought I raised you with a bit more class than that.” A wide smile on the Imperials face showing he meant to harm. “Not all of you Fels can be as fabulous as me. But yes let us return to the party, I’m sure you could use a drink, and I need to find Maxim. I have yet to speak to him.”

    Guiding his sister inside the ceremony hall, Nikitis’ crimson gaze took in the gala. Imperials and other foreign dignitaries clogged the venue. It was a sea of whites and gray. Looking down at his outfit the chiss scowled. Maybe he should’ve skipped putting on the Moff uniform. It was too late to change now.

    As he stood looking for Maxim another figure caught Nikitis’ eye. Corin , he’d known the young Jedi. Probably one of the few that Ronin actually truly enjoyed the presence of. Though the chiss hadn’t spent much time getting to know them. He’d always been away at some form of school or on Imperial business when the other visited.

    Finally, through the crowd gray, Nikitis spotted his brother though Maxim was making a beeline at the Chiss and his siblings. Nikitis had only caught the tail end of what the newly minted Emperor had said but the appearance was not good.

    Taking a step approaching his brother, a hand raising to be placed on Maxim’s shoulder Nikitis leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t forget you are an Emperor now Maxim, we are already at war from within. Don’t let these vultures see you break. We can speak in private away from prying eyes.”

    Kalja Tal'Vera | Kairi Leidias | Maxim Fel | Aella Fel | Moff Rom Konstanz Dooku | Tyra Kadenze
     
  5. Derifiade Parth

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    [ Theme ]
    The Galaxy had lost one of its brightest sons this day, with the passing of Ronin Fel. It would be remiss to say that the entirety of the Fel Empire mourned the loss of their Imperator, leaving the burden of an Empire upon their children, mostly upon the one set to inherit the throne. A perilous situation, one that was observed by many individuals within the Fel as an opportunity, either to garner favor with the new Imperator or to seize even more power for their own. It did not take a visionary to see it as prime time to seize power in the chaos and confusion.

    The sound of clicking boots echoed through the large corridors leading to the room where Ronin Fel's coffin lay, Derifiade strode through the grand halls with his hands crossed behind his back, each stride leaving his coat trailing in his wake. The Firrerroan paused and stood alongside the rest of the dignataries present, his gaze falling upon the sarcophagus that held the cold, lifeless body of the former emperor.

    Parth's gaze fell to the floor as he bowed his head in a moment of silence for the death of Ronin, hands clasped in front of his waist. A single, silent tear fell from his right eye - a crocodile tear to say the least, though no one would ever question his devotion to the Fel, after years of service within the Imperial Military and now to the political scene for the Fel Empire to better its people and future, who could really.

    A soft sigh was heard from Parth as the eulogy for the deceased ended, lifting his gaze up as his brow perked at the arrival of Jedi from the Republic, curious as to what their intent was. The death of the Emperor certainly wasn't one that would warrant the presence of them, leaving their intentions up in the air. For the time being, Parth kept to himself about them, as well as his distance, shifting off to follow the rest of the dignataries that began to disperse as the Imperator and the rest of the Fel family moved off to more secluded quarters.


     
  6. Tyra Kadenze

    Tyra Kadenze Two-faced, like a coin
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    On the move? For what reason?

    Without further context from her master, Tyra acted on her own instinct. The padawan did not have Kalja's foresight abilities, but she trusted her master. Kalja wouldn't have told her this if it wasn't of vital importance, especially now. The padawan took a moment to search through the Force: Kairi Leidias, the New Republic's Chief of State. Tyra had met her on a couple of occasions, and her presence in the Force was known to the Jedi.

    The throne room, Tyra could see the Chief of State's wake in the Force. She began to move, but the dark presence grew strong, ever stronger. The padawan went dead cold, picking up her pace in process. She did her best to hide her concern from the occasional Imperial guard that she passed, eventually disregarding any sort of concern for not looking panicked. Tyra could not sense the guards anymore, or Kairi, or her master. Where once she saw wakes on a flat ocean, she saw the waters of the Force disturbed, as if a storm was approaching from behind her. Were it not for her eyes and ears, she'd have been blinded to those around her.

    Be not afraid, Padawan, for you are part of something greater than your understanding. Do not resist it, for you will only hurt yourself.

    What are you? Sith? Stay the hell away from me!

    A wave was approaching her, no, chasing her. Utter terror engulfed her, her own mental and Force defenses were breaking down. And worst yet, it was a familiar sensation. She had felt it all before, heard the language, over two years ago - only this time she knew what came next. Tyra had crossed the threshold of the throne room, Kairi Leidias was in front of her. Yet no words formed from the padawan's mouth. The woman looked scared, but also showing some concern for the padawan. Tyra must've had an ugly look on her face.

    What are you waiting here for...? Why aren't you calling for help...? I'm... I'm not here to help you... you have absolutely no idea what I'm about to do..

    She could not think, could not move, as if her entire body had given its all into defending against this intrusion to her mind. She couldn't stop what came before, and she was no more prepared now. It was going to happen again, and it could not have occurred at a worse time. Why me? Of all people in this galaxy, why does it have to be me?

    ...I'm not here to help you... I'm here to kill you -

    A thunder ripped through the Force as the dark presence that hung over the padawan suddenly vanished - only for another sinister presence to take its place. It was malevolent, cruel, but oddly joyful, mischievous, all at the same time in a swirling, confusing mix.

    "Tyra, Tyra!? I'm not in danger am I?"

    Tyra stood upright. Any marker of fear, dread, despair, had entirely vanished from Tyra's person. She was calm, collected. And according to Kairi, disturbingly so. The perfectly sane, and normal padawan put a hand on her hip, a look of confusion on her face.

    Kairi's eyes widened. The confusion was mutual. The older woman noted something even more peculiar about the Jedi's sudden shift of mood, her irises had turned from her natural yellow to an almost glowing red. Kairi's mind was racing in bewilderment.

    "Not in danger..? Lady - I don't even know who you are."

    A grin slowly dominated Tyra's face, turning into a quick, wicked, and high pitched laugh of a genuinely excited, if not overly excited girl. She looked around the room, ignoring the Chief of State which appeared to be shaking in terror. An expected reaction from Tyra, but one she ignored.

    There was no one else in the massive room. A hand gripped her lips, as she peered around some more with a concerned look about her face. The girl had no idea where she was. What has my other me been up to? She turned back to the woman in front of her, who was looking a bit frozen in place, unsure of how to act or what to say.

    "Again, who are you?"

    Kairi did not respond, until the padawan leaned into her hip a bit more in impatience.

    "Huh..? Tyra, you and master.. - "

    "Actually shush, shush, shush! That will just make me regret things, and I never regret what I do. Not with how little fun miss perfect-padawan let's me have. She's going to be so pissed in the morning!"

    The girl let out another overly enthusiastic and wicked laugh.

    "I hope you're not important, but just incase you are, I'm going to make this one memorable!"

    The color in Kairi's skin had already deserted her at this point, her mouth was agape, and Tyra was reveling at the despair that exuded off the Chief of State. Tyra turned around and took a step towards the entrance, before suddenly and quickly darting around with her arms fully outstretched. A powerful Force blast escaped from the Jedi, pulling Kairi off the ground and across the room, landing with her back against the throne.

    Tyra withdrew her lightsaber shoto from her belt and ignited it's blue blade.

    "You were my first prize, but I can always appropriate another..."

    The padawan through the saber into a spin, and with a crack at the end of the room, it impaled the Chief of State through the the center of her torso, pinning her to the throne.

    "Oh it's beautiful! A work of art!"


     
  7. Corin

    Corin Nomad
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    The seconds inched by, shifting to long, empty minutes as Corin made his way back to the banquet hall. He didn't bother to hide his presence on his trek back. No one would question his time at the late Emperor's grave. It was normal to pay respects to a fallen friend, and no one expected anything of the forlorn Jedi anyway. He hadn't come with the New Republic's delegation. Truth be told, he avidly avoided them. He didn't much care for any centralized Order of Jedi Knights, nor did he think much of its Grandmaster. They were like everyone else in the Core. Wrapped up in selfish affairs that pulled them away from what mattered.
    The people they were meant to protect.

    Corin sighed.

    That's not a fair assessment. You're letting bitterness guide your thoughts again, you know.

    He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of these intrusive thoughts. The New Jedi Order strove to bring about a better galaxy, just like he did. Unlike him, they worked within the boundaries of galactic politics. It achieved more than what a nomad like him could on a much larger scale.

    That's better.

    With a deep breath, Corin stepped through the threshold separating the banquet hall from the adjacent corridors. He peered about the room thoughtfully, amber gaze rolling over anyone whose emotions felt particularly strong. That part of him that wanted to do something more than mourning finally won out. He'd taken his time to bid his fallen friend a final farewell. The present now called the Jedi back to reality.

    A cold spike shot through the crowd. Like a pulse all its own, it throbbed with cold emptiness. Every second brought about another pulse. Sadness. Regret. Loss. It spoke louder than anyone else Corin could feel in the banquet hall. So many struggled to understand the emotions coursing through them, but many could fathom the coming dawn. Only one stood out to him as questioning their place in the galaxy come morn. He followed that striking sense of loss and confusion, weaving in and out of crowds with the grace of a dancer.

    While passing from one group to the next, he caught sight of the familiar white fringe of the Fel Dynasty. It wasn't much of a surprise to see one of his children so distraught, but who it was definitely put him off balance.

    He expected to find young Barron or the recent Emperor, not the wayward daughter.

    Corin plucked a glass of champagne from a passing servant as he eyed the woman up and down. Even pained, her beauty could not be ignored. It reminded him of some ancient work of art. A grieving goddess carved from marble, tear-stricken, left to bask in her pain until the galaxy wiped her away alongside everything and everyone else.

    "I don't suppose I could interest you in a drink, Princess?" Corin swept up beside her and held out the glass with a slight smile.

     
  8. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    It was easy to fall back into how things had been, and despite it all Aella found herself smiling as Nikitis chided her for her tattoos and gently wiped the smudged makeup from her face. His presence put her at ease, and she let him guide her back into the banquet hall, feeling lighter on her feet now that she'd managed what closure could be made with one already passed on. There was still pain buried deep in her heart, emotions she would have to work through in the coming weeks once the shock of it all had worn off, but for now she was as at peace as she could manage, which made for a serene mask on the surface to disguise the storm of conflicting emotions that raged inside her still.

    The presence of her younger brother helped to keep her grounded, and she wrapped an arm around him in a hug, solidarity the best comfort she was capable of offering. No words were spoken, because nothing she could say would ever encapsulate what either of them were feeling, but the look exchanged between siblings said more than words ever could. None of them would ever really heal from this, but as estranged as they all may have been, they still had each other.

    And, apparently, those outside the family as well. Aella didn't immediately notice when the man approached, whether she was distracted by her own thoughts or the sheer number of people was hard to tell, and chances were it was both. Once he spoke everything about her shifted, and she carefully nudged Barron to the side and just behind her, unconsciously inserting herself between the stranger and her little brother. In an instant she turned from grieving daughter to the street-smart criminal the rest of the galaxy knew her as, giving the newcomer the same once-over he'd given her, no doubt looking for far different things.

    Despite dressing like an Imperial he didn't have the same air as the ones she'd grown up around, not that that was a bad thing in her eyes. The lightsaber told her everything she needed to know, and while he didn't look like a Jedi she knew if he was a Sith he wouldn't have made it here alive, so that left few options. Her assessment left her with more questions than answers, but there were other ways to uncover mysteries.

    The proffered glass was eventually accepted, and she looked him up and down a second time before speaking. "You must have lost the stick up your ass that came with the uniform." She returned his smile then - but only just - and took a drink, thankful for something else to help take the edge off. "I didn't know any Jedi were that close to him."
     
  9. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    As The Chief of State left with Axius, Maxin found himself staring blankly at the wall - an icy dagger of anger overtaking his mind. Who did that woman think she was? Maybe he should have had her killed. What was the Republic going to do anyway? They were just as weak as they were...he could have them all killed and no one could stop him. As the anger swelled, he felt the tears begin swelling in his eyes. He closed. Willed them to stop. They wouldn't.

    Why did you leave me? Maxim flexed his fist, his mind flowing between anger and sadness until both were a blur. Everything felt so foggy. I'm not ready. I should be, but I'm not. I needed you still and you karking left!

    Suddenly there was a strong hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice in his ear.


    Don’t forget you are an Emperor now Maxim, we are already at war from within. Don’t let these vultures see you break. We can speak in private away from prying eyes.” Under his adopted brother's powerful grip, Maxim became vividly aware of the tension running through his shoulders and down his back. The blur of anger and sadness dissipated as Maxim centered himself in the world around him - his shoulders relaxing into a defeated slump. His family always had a way of bringing him out of his hazes...even if it was the obnoxious ones.

    "I put that witch in her place" Maxim snarled low enough to not be heard, his eyes drifting down to his trembling fist, "the Republic can't even spare the decency to pretend like they cared about our father. Maybe he was wrong trying to play their friend for so long. What did it get him?"

    Maxim turned over his shoulder to Nikitis, "not even five minutes of decency." At that moment, Maxim suddenly remembered that he should have felt ashamed, and the actual emotion played out seconds after.

    Maxim would allow Nikitis to direct him wherever he wished while he pieced together the right words, "I'm sorry for not seeing you earlier. Things have been...difficult."

    As the two walked, the familiar face of Derifiade Parth emerged from the crowd. He was a man that Maxim hadn't met but a few times, but recognized from the few times the man had graced his father's presence. He was a politician, someone armed to deal with the likes of the New Republic no doubt. Maxim was just about to call him over to discuss the coming talks when a sudden shiver struck his body.

    He stopped. Darkness. Confusion. Fear. The Force guided his eyes towards the door where Axius had escorted the Chief of State to the speeder that'd taken her to the royal palace. The captain had just returned, but had stopped in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in a way that felt like looking in a mirror.

    Then it changed. Fear turned to ice. A sword of cold steel. It twisted in his gut. Pain. Something was wrong.

    Maxim felt the attention of the Praetorian Guard shift towards the door. Axius turned on heel and marched outside. That's when he realized the Jedi was gone from the Republic's table.

    "Nikitis" Maxim interrupted his brother with a whisper that'd slip between his words like a quick dagger. His training had stepped in and he felt the confusion and fatigue disappear all at once, "something is wrong. Don't run. Walk with me to the door."

    Without another word, Maxim pulled his older brother along with him, dancing through the crowd as inconspicuously as he could being the Heir to an Empire. The Praetorian Guards answered in kind, slipping quietly from their posts to the follow their Captain and their liege outside. When they had all passed the door, and it'd closed behind them, Maxim called out to Axius as he marched up the ramp of one of the Imperial shuttles that'd be stationed in the event of an emergency.


    "Captain!"

    Axius paused on the ramp and looked back, "It's the Republican, my liege. Something is wrong"

    Maxim led Nikitis up the ramp with the rest of the Praetorian Knights in tow, "I know, we're coming with you."

    "As you wish, my liege, we have to move now."


    With that, Maxim, Nikitis and the knights boarded the shuttle and made haste towards the rising towers of the Imperial Palace...



     
  10. Darth Cerebrous

    Darth Cerebrous The Crawling Chaos
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    It had all gone according to plan. The padawan's feeble psyche had broken with barely a touch. Cerebrous watched from behind her eyes as she launched the blade through the Chief. A grotesque work of art, the Chief of State dead on the Emperor's Throne... a crowning gift from the Sith to Maxim Fel.

    The shadows that warped around the Sith Lord, concealing him from prying eyes, dissipated. A dark-cloaked figure slowly hobbled from the dark corner of the throne room towards Tyra, ghostly pale tentacles drooping out of its hood from its obscured face.

    "They will not believe you," he uttered in a deep aquatic voice that, though she heard it clear with her ears, seemed whispered in her mind. In the distance, heavy and urgent footfalls echoed through the corridors.

    "The Imperials are already on their way. No matter what story you tell them, they will not understand. The truth is too complex. There is a mercy in ignorance... but you have lived this truth, and you will carry it forever. You have been instrumental to me, child, more than you yet know. When you next see your master, give her these coordinates, she will understand what she must do."

    A boney hand of three digits reached out and grasped her hand, placing a small code cylinder in her palm, and clasping her hand shut around it. The Sith Lord stepped back and made slowly for the door. By the time the Imperials arrived he would be long gone, back into the shadows...

     
  11. Paragon of the Republic

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    Confusion...

    Despair...

    Anguish...

    Death...

    To say the least, her death was swift. When the Padawan let loose a torrent of Force directed energy, that was enough in it's own right. Her body flew effortlessly, slamming into the throne. Her bones breaking, snapping audibly and painfully. Her head snapped back and impacted the side of her face against the duracrete. A splatter of blood impacted the side of the throne, and against the wall.

    She was barely conscious at this point, bleeding from several points on her body. Her vision swam, fading in and out, catching the brief moment of boasting before she saw the blue blade of the Lightsaber flung at her. Somehow, she managed a wince, but felt nothing. For a momentary flicker, she thought she felt searing heat - but that couldn't be, it was no longer there. Eyes lazily gazed to the left and fell short of the right as darkness began to overcome her.

    How was this so? How was she dying...even faster.

    Her amber hued orbs barely caught a glimpse of the hilt that was buried into her chest, before darkness swept her away. Body managing to shudder as she exhaled, a desperate attempt by her brain to gauge life functions...

    And then nothing.

    She was no Jedi, and her death was most certainly, anything but peaceful.

    The Chief of State of the New Republic, murdered by the very Jedi who swore to protect the Republic.

    Irony, no?

    Darth Cerebrous | Tyra Kadenze | Maxim Fel | Corin | Aella Fel | Nikitis Fel
     
  12. Kalja Tal'Vera

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    Kalja hurried through the darkened corridors, pressing herself hard through the Force. She wrapped tendrils of power about her feet, her legs and the core of her frame. Allowing the energy to feed her muscles, fuel her forward momentum and push her physically beyond that of a normal being. She adjusted, shifted and tilted – rounding corners like some Coruscanti Building Jumper. Kalja would come to a halt before the Throne room doors, panting heavily – beads of sweat dripping down her brow. The energy she had left was minimal, she knew that – but the beings on the other side would not.

    There was someone else, no, something else with her Padawan – and the fading essence of the Chief of State. It was in that moment, through the Force, Kalja felt her Padawan slip into darkness – and the essence of the Chief of State faded completely. Kalja felt the instant flush of cold, the hair-raising darkness, the overwhelming fear...and it scared her.

    She recoiled into her own ethereal pocket, finding solace and warmth beneath the light of the Force. She could feel the presence closing in around her, the maddening laugh of an Aquatic creature, the shouting of Kairi and the snarl of her Padawan. The blonde Jedi sat alone, kneeling in the circle of light which encompassed her area – rays of light attempting to beat back the darkness. With each passing moment, the tendrils grew bolder, continuing to sway the Light around her.

    “No...” Her eyes snapped open, causing the darkness to hiss away, and the light to expand rapidly.

    Her eyes opened and the world around her seemed to collapse in a way. A hand extended forth, calling upon the Force to wrap about the frame of the door. As she began to close her hand, she would expand the energies of the Force that encompassed the door. The loud whine and groan of metal and concrete breaking echoed throughout the corridors. With a flick of her wrist, the door would be backhanded, a loud metal snap reverberating through the Throne room as the door fell free from the hinges.

    Through the smoke, Kalja appeared, her face grim as she looked up to see the fading essence of Darth Cerebrous.

    She would hiss, eyes flaring their violet blue hue as she charged forward, hand extending to call her lightsaber from her side. The blade snapped to life, screaming snap-hiss that flew across the room as Kalja lept towards his fading essence, swinging in a horizontal slash from left to right.

    Only to miss...

    She came to a sliding halt, stirring up clouds of dust and small debris.

    She rose to her full height, sighing roughly as she disengaged her saber. She would turn and gaze upon the Chief of State, and felt through the Force – only to feel nothing coming from the slain woman. It was all she could muster, not to scream and cry right there. Everything felt wrong, the Force, her body, her own essence.

    Kalja turned slowly, looking at Tyra Kadenze blankly. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice choked.

    “What have you done...?”


    Maxim Fel | Aella Fel | Nikitis Fel | Corin
     
  13. Corin

    Corin Nomad
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    "No need to be so guarded," Corin looked past Aella to her younger brother. "Prince Barron and I have met on more than one occasion," he smiled at the young man. "He's due another dejarik lesson. Once things properly blow over," the Jedi looked from the youngest of the Fel siblings to his elder sister.

    She definitely lacked the decorum expected of someone of her station, though that wasn't a surprise. Ronin hadn't been entirely forthright when it came to his personal pariah. But the Jedi could read between the lines then, and he most certainly could follow the script laid out before him. The close proximity only made it easier for the empath. Her emotions rippled out from around her. It coincided with what little the late emperor shared regarding her daughter.

    He raised a brow at her joke. "I'm lucky enough to say no stick came with the uniform. I might've considered something a bit more stylish if it did," Corin's hands clasped together behind his back as he looked about the room with clear interest. "Your father and I grew to understand one another in ways an Imperial or Jedi may have considered unorthodox. Though, I've never been one to care much for public opinion."

    Corin plucked another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and swirled the contents of his glass. "He mentioned a few times that you were a bit more involved in things beyond the Empire's borders. I'd wager those interests are likely seen as favorably as an Imperial and a Jedi sharing a drink."

     
  14. Tyra Kadenze

    Tyra Kadenze Two-faced, like a coin
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    The code cylinder fell into Tyra's hand. The girl was ambivalent about the Sith that stood in front of her. She regarded him with a tilted head and mild curiosity. A pawn in someone else's game? She was becoming a bit too special for her taste. Her murder had been too important. It wasn't some lowly Jedi this time, it someone whose death could have dire consequences on her.

    Her eyes lowered as the Sith began to fade, "Good bye, Sith-boy, I guess."

    Tyra felt another presence behind her right as as the throne room doors caved in, to whom she paid no attention to. It wasn't worth the energy. Now this is rather irritating. The padawan witnessed Kalja's failed strike on the now completely faded figure. It was a familiar individual doing the lightsaber swinging in her face. Tyra let out a deep sigh as her master came to face her. Kalja is the one person she couldn't get away with killing, for several reasons.

    Tyra's excitement from earlier had disappeared by now. There was no getting out of this one, and no way to explain it. For a moment, she returned the other Jedi's blank stare, before closing her eyes and turning around. The eye contact was getting on her nerves.

    "I don't know really, ask the other me when you see her again. I really have no idea what's going on either."

    The padawan outstretched a hand and the lightsaber embedded in the dead Kairi came flying back into her hand. What happened here was bigger than her, and leaving evidence behind was not a bright idea. She turned the blade off and holstered it. She turned around again and tossed the code cylinder to Kalja.

    "Tentacle face wanted you to have this."

    Tyra allowed the other woman to catch the cylinder before continuing, "Unless you're going to help me out of this... master, I'm going to make like a tree and fuck off." She loosed a crazed look towards her master and made for the exit with a carefree stroll.

     
  15. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    A glance back to Barron confirmed that this was indeed a known face, and that caused her to relax a measure, though her brother still seemed content to stand back and observe the interaction. Aella couldn't blame him, she wasn't entirely in the mood to be conversing herself, even as she welcomed the distraction. The fact that her father had trusted him didn't have the effect it was likely intended to, and if anything just made her more skeptical of why he found himself here, speaking with her. Though she didn't know how her father had spoken about her in private settings, she could imagine she was never held up as the crown jewel of the family.

    Not that he exactly looked like the Jedi he claimed to be either, so perhaps a few things were unknown. She knew from growing up surrounded by Imperial Knights that there existed Force-sensitives who didn't pledge themselves to one creed or cause in the same way Jedi and Sith did, but all the ones she'd met before had been like her: wayward and consumed more by their own emotions and hedonism than was healthy. He didn't tick any of those boxes, at least outwardly.

    Her glass raised to her lips as he spoke, the taste of the champagne a stark contrast to everything she'd experienced in the years prior to her return to Bastion. The alcohol, much like everything else at the funeral, was rounded off and kept hidden behind a more pleasant palate for the comfort of the Imperium's citizens and foreign politicians alike. It didn't stop her from indulging in the comfort her own vices always brought her, but little could.

    "I don't know that I'd call myself much of an Imperial." She made a point to look him over again, "And you don't seem to be much of a Jedi, either. You dress like one of the Knights." She took another drink then, enjoying the beginnings of a light buzz that fit nicely with her current high. This was more like it. "I don't think my father would have kept you around just to talk." Her eyes told him what that sentence really was: a question and a challenge all in one.
     
  16. Corin

    Corin Nomad
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    Corin perked a brow as he sipped from his glass.

    "If you ask me, I believe I'm the closest to what a Jedi should be," he said while lowering the glass from his lips. "A code is nothing more than a set of self-imposed rules. While tradition is merely the corpse of wisdom," he set his drink down on a table beside him. "I believe a Jedi exists to serve not abstract concepts such as peace, but the people who lack what's necessary to seek out a happy, just life. People in this galaxy somehow die hungry, while the wealthy partake in champagne and a literal buffet. At a funeral, no less."

    He looked back to Aella, meeting her gaze with a knowing smirk. "Ronin Fel knew the value of perspective. His life was spent in preparation to lead an Empire. His constituents believed in punishment without mercy. Those who betrayed the Empire should be dragged before the throne and put to the sword," he waved a hand. "Your father knew that was not the way to properly secure an order that would last beyond his generation. Unfortunately, his work was interrupted by tragedy."

    Pietas Station affected the galaxy at large. Those with power saw an opportunity to build upon it, to grow stronger, and overwhelm those who stood in their way. The Fel Imperium was not the only one who suffered at the hands of anarchy.

    "I offered him a perspective. One he'd never have understood on his own. He was..." his attention shifted back in the direction of the necropolis almost subconsciously. "A wise man. Among other things."

    Corin's gaze snapped back to Aella in an instant. "What comes next, Princess? Your brother has ascended to the throne. You don't strike me as a woman who'd bend the knee rather than pursue her own interests. So," he lifted his glass once more, taking a small sip of the drink within. "Where does the black sheep of the Fel Dynasty go from here?"

     
  17. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    "So you're a pacifist who kills people." The small, crooked smile on her lips was something he'd likely seen on her brother hundreds of times before. "Everyone thinks they're the pinnacle of what they want to be. You ask me, it's easier not to give a shit." It was interesting to hear him talk, she'd give him that at the very least. This was the first conversation with depth to it she'd had in a long time. Maybe some of the differences between here and the rest of the galaxy weren't so bad after all.

    Listening to a stranger tell her about her father was strange, and Aella wasn't sure she appreciated it, or maybe it was because she still didn't know exactly how to feel about the man that had just been laid to rest. Regardless, it caused a spike of emotion she did her best to push down, something between anger and despondency. "You've got a rosey version of what the Imperium is really like. My father still had people executed. Had a way of making it seem like he cared more about the future of his dynasty than his kids, too." Abruptly she stopped speaking, draining the rest of her glass and setting it down next to his.

    Crossing her arms, she stared him down for a moment as if sizing him up for a second time after all that had been said so far. He wasn't who she'd expected to come pay respects to the late emperor, nor was he the conversation partner she'd initially expected him to be, for better and worse. The muscles of her jaw tightened, and she swallowed the sudden tears that stung at her eyes. "I don't know."

    A sharp, bitter laugh followed after, and she shook her head. It was a question she hadn't bothered to consider until it was posed to her, and truthfully she had no plans just as always. Had she not been called back home by the death of her father, chances were she wouldn't have returned to Bastion for several more years, if ever. As a child she felt out of place here, and that had only doubled as she grew. No, home was somewhere, but it still wasn't here.

    "I'll probably leave again, go somewhere on the opposite side of the galaxy and try to forget all this." Her eyes drifted to the necropolis then just as his did, but instead of looking back to him instantly her gaze dropped to the floor for a brief moment before finding his face again. "He can have his empire. I want something better for myself."
     
  18. Kalja Tal'Vera

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    The padawan outstretched a hand and the lightsaber embedded in the dead Kairi came flying back into her hand. What happened here was bigger than her, and leaving evidence behind was not a bright idea. She turned the blade off and holstered it. She turned around again and tossed the code cylinder to Kalja.

    Kalja frowned deeply, as she struggled to maintain composure. She held herself firm, sniffling away the despair that she felt tear through her gut. Her gaze would follow Tyra, as she continued her quips. It wasn't until she mentioned having no idea of the ongoings that it hit her like an Imperial Star Destroyer.


    "You..." Kalja hissed loudly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand to catch the cylinder, quickly tucking it away before returning to Tyra.


    "Tentacle face?" Her mind instantly became confused as she tried to recall any Jedi teachings, or text about a tentacled being who could influence individuals in such a manner. She shook her head vigorously. "No, you're going to stay here...we have to figure this out!" She gestured harshly around her. "Don't you see what you have done!? They're going to come for us now! This is all they needed to start another Purge - THEN WHAT!?" She shouted across the small gap between them.

    "What happens when we lose it all again!?" She screamed at the back of Tyra. Her blood was boiling, and the normally steel tempered Jedi Master was at her brim of tolerance. She loved her Padawan, she defended her countless times against the Council - even swore on her own self that Tyra would not fall as they predicted.

    But she was wrong...

    She too, would have to face the consequences.


     
    #38 Kalja Tal'Vera, Jul 4, 2021
    Last edited: Jul 4, 2021
  19. Nikitis Fel

    Nikitis Fel The Illustrious High Moff
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    Nikitis could see the tensing of Maxim’s muscles as the anger flowed through him, as the emotions taunted the emperor. It hurt Nikitis to look upon his brother and see him like this. No matter when Ronin’s death came the result would’ve been the same. Whether it had taken another year, or even another decade. The Fel children would still suffer, they would still lash out, they would still bear the weight of an Imperium upon their shoulders.

    “Maxim one thing you must realize about our father is that he was an optimist. He cared for more than the Imperium, Ronin wished to see a better galaxy for all. That is why he allied himself with the Alliance, that is why he funded the Pietas station. Our father was a great man Maxim, he was a kind man, in a heartless galaxy. A galaxy that would drain him dry, that would see him give and give till there was nothing left.”

    A sad smile was all the chiss could offer as he remembered attending meetings with Ronin, when he remembered the man’s vibrant energy behind closed doors. Guiding Maxim, Nikitis planned on pulling him off into one of the side chambers where he could offer him a ear, much like he’d done their other siblings.

    “You are Emperor now Maxim. All of Ronin’s hopes, all his dreams of a stronger Imperium now lie with you. You are the one who will push us forward, who will expand our borders beyond father's dreams. Nor will your perceptions be tainted by the words of a Jedi in your ear the same his was. The force has set you upon this path, neither it nor I will let you fall or let another rip it from under you.”

    The single word broke Nikitis’ line of thought. He could feel Maxim’s body tense under his grasp. Something was wrong, very wrong. Crimson eyes narrowing, he scanned the room for apparent threats to see none. Only the captain of the Praetorian approaching them.

    The fact that Axius and Maxim had both felt the same thing made the Moffs heart sink. He joined them in the speeder as they rocketed through the sky approaching the Imperial palace. ‘Even in Ronin’s death people conspire to see us fall.’ The Chiss thought. Looking over to Maxim, then Axius. Reaching into his robes, the chiss drew out a disruptor pistol. Could never be too prepared of course.

    Corin | Aella Fel | Maxim Fel | Tyra Kadenze | Kalja Tal'Vera
     
  20. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    Stormtroopers scrambled for cover as the shuttle screamed into dock, its thrusters beating the palace landing pad with blasts of ionized air. With a screech that could rip open the sky, the shuttle banked hard and dove towards the pad - the stern of the vessel drifting through the air with a force that slammed Maxim against the bulkhead. The heir fumbled for the bracing handles, welded into the ceiling, and forced himself to his feet with a burst of adrenaline and strength. The force of the turn knotted his stomach, but it was not what was making him sick.

    The cold steel in his gut had melted away, leaving behind an oozing pool of darkness that clawed its way out from its center, somewhere deep in the palace. Something dark had taken place, and it had no intention of containing itself to the confines of the Throne Room. But there was more than just simple malice...there was confusion. Fear. Glee. What had that Jedi done?

    "We have to move now!" Axius howled over the scream of the engines, his form unflinching, as if the drifting of the shuttle had been nothing more than breeze through a cracked window. With a curled fist, the captain slammed the emergency release on the ramp. Mag locks burst from their place with a screeching crash, blown aside from jets of vaporized hydraulic fluid that shot from the emergency vents. The ramp's arms exploded from their place as the ramp door was ripped from its supports - the slab of metal falling into a dramatic swing as it was caught by its bottom hinges. Maxim could see the landing pad as the shuttle did its best to make a quick landing - but the beast was cumbersome and the drift had been dangerous enough.

    "Follow us, your majesty!" Axius called before throwing himself out into the open sky. In tight clusters, the rest of the praetorian followed suit - their capes bellowing in the wind as they plummeted through and across several dozen feet of open air. Axius landed into a cushion of air that blew out across the landing ramp, tucking into a brief roll before popping up into a sprint towards the palace. The other knights did much the same, landing into tight rolls and popping into dead sprints.


    Maxim turned towards his older brother and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, "stay behind us, Nikitis. Whatever happens, keep yourself safe" his brother was capable, but he hadn't fought in the war the same way Maxium had. The last thing any Fel needed was another funeral.

    Before Nikitis could properly answer, Maxim turned and threw himself from the shuttle - leaving his brother to wait for the vessel to make a proper landing, or at least get close enough for a non-sensitive to survive the fall. Air rushed past him, filling his ear with a distinct whine as the landing pad grew rapidly in his vision. When he was just about to impact, Maxium thrust his legs downward and summoned a force push as he tucked himself forward. The sudden gush of air slowed him, and his weight threw him into a front roll - just as the Imperial Knights had done. His shoulder crashed into the duracrete and a pain shot through his back - but he maintained the roll long enough to pop back onto his feet.

    He cursed, felt the swelling start, and suddenly became vividly aware that he was not wearing his armor. He pushed through anyway, summoning his father's lightsaber to his hand as he took flight after his guardsmen.

    "My liege!" A Praetorian Stormtrooper ran from his cover, blaster rifle tucked to his chest, "what is happening sir?"

    "There has been a breach!" Maxim answered, looking at the man over a shoulder as he continued his run, "tell your commander to lock down the palace and shut down off-planet comms!"

    There was more that could be done. Lowering more Star Destroyers into orbit, calling the reserve garrison up. But there was no time, whatever situation was happening had to be contained. Maxim caught up to his guards and together they charged down the corridors of the palace, sending stormtroopers off to seal down the building as they met them. The confusion and fear grew only stronger as they approached the throne room...then there was that...strange feeling. A coldness that reminded him of the stories he'd been told of Roan Fel...

    When at last they reached the massive, doors of the throne room, they found them already partially pushed aside. Axius dug his feet into the ground and thrust forth his hand. Dust bounced from the floor and ceiling, air rushed down the corridors and an invisible hand threw double doors open with such force that the frame was nearly torn from the wall. Twelve white blades ignited in the settling dust, their edges glowing with the distinct golden shine of the Praetorian Knights - and with trained precision they stormed the room. Maxim entered last, his blade shimmering solid gold, as he took up the middle of the crescent formation his knights had assumed.

    Klaxon alarms began to blare as Maxim swatted away the biting dust that obscured his vision. His knights held their blades towards the center of the formation, where a young blonde stood facing them. Past her by several feet was the Jedi from the wake, her silver threads of hair laying haphazardly across her face and an intense look in her eyes. What was going on here? The exact source of the cold darkness had been lost in the anxiety, fear and anger saturating the throne room...but then he saw it and his eyes went wide.

    Laying in a contorted pile upon the Imperial Throne was The Chief of State, embers and smoke pouring from a black hole in her chest. Blood poured from unseen wounds, the red trails pooling at the pedestal upon which the chair sat. He reached out for signs of life, but he found nothing more than he could have expected. Fear shot through him and his eyes turned back to the two women before him.

    "What...what is the meaning of this?" his words fumbled out in a wispy voice, the surprise overcoming him...but then the fear turned to a confused anger, "answer me Jedi! What have you done!? What sort of twisted game are you playing!"


    Maxim barked, the bulbous room echoing his voice and the thrum of his saber as he raised it towards the women. His Praetorian took a step forward, their sabers moving to their shoulders in a stance unique to the Imperial Order.

    "Answer me!"