TheWatchDog

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Dozo

Name: Dozo Besadii Zor Known as “Dozo the Hutt” or “His immensity, Lord Dozo The Gallant”

Age: 127

Race: Hutt

Brief Bio:

bio

Dozo was one of the last Hutt’s to be born of Aruk the great, ancient and illustrious leader of the Besadii Kajidic. The older sibling of Durga Besadii Tai (Durga the Hutt), Dozo grew up in his younger siblings shadow and yet despite this and rare for Hutt culture, the two were thick as thieves. The loyalty between “brothers” was odd among Hutts but it allowed the two to become a formidable pair. Where Durga handled the intellectual and administrative matters where Dozo was the enforcement arm of the Besadii Kajidic. When the Zann Consortium and black sun managed to somehow tear through Hutt Space (To the shock of many) it was Dozo’s valiantly planetary defense of a Hutt Throne World that allowed Durga to broke a surrender treaty between the two organized crime syndicates turned Galactic superpowers and to keep the Hutts alive. Durga became a Vigo of the black Sun and Dozo was seen to publicly condemn and betray his bother. Siding with Tyber Zann over the Black Sun it was said this was perhaps the only time the brothers had ever fought and it was the most bitter. Dozo currently runs one of the larger mercantile caravans for Zann who believes it has kept him out of the action. Outwardly Dozo appears content and loyal to Zann, his hatred of The Black Sun and vengeance towards his brother infamous.

Faction: The Zan Consortium (The Hutt species truly): While he outwardly pretends to hate his brother and pursues vengeance against him due to forsaking Hutt Culture and the Kajidics and “aiding in our downfall”, in truth he and his brother are still thick as thieves and this is a plan by them to weaken both sides from within. Secretly both Durga and Dozo are allied to Raveem and the Remnant and to an as of yet unknown ally.

Personality: While most Hutts value a sedentary life, Dozo is a warrior through and through. His “father” once said much of the ancient Hutts and their martial prowess resided in him. He’s proud, oddly eloquent for a Hutt and speaks several languages openly, though he revels in artistic use of profanity. Dozo is not a strategic thinker, but his tactical acumen is almost masterful. While he’s terrible at long term, subtle planning his flexibility stands at a healthy contrast to his brothers’ intractability. Dozo is fanatically loyal to Hutt culture and the Kajidic. Decades ago, A Jedi Knight named Dooku and another Jedi from Sereno disrupted some of his plans and Dozo engaged them both in combat earning Dooku’s respect as the Hutt also gained a strong appreciation for Jedi martial prowess. Despite being a Hutt he has a strong sense of honor and longs for the day when the Hutt cartels can become trading consortiums that rival the corporate sector. Fusing legal and illegal gains to create a second Hutt Golden Age.

He misses his brother and thirsts for revenge against those who truly wronged the Hutt.

Physical description: Dozo is massive, despite his youth, easily three times the size of Hutts hundreds of years his senior. However, where those Hutts are often immensely obese and sedentary creatures. Dozo is an impassible wall of muscle and anti grav harnesses shave off just enough of his weight that he can move like lightning. He is a dark orange color with tiger stripes streaking along his chest and shoulders and his “tail” (In reality, it’s a Foot since Hutts are gastropods), looks more like a lizards and he’s known for wearing a mace or morning star at the end of it, made of a Beskar-durasteel alloy. “Dozo The Gallant” is a moniker he earned in battle against Dooku and has proceeded to do everything he can to prove himself worthy of the title and in doing so, redeem the Hutts as a race of warrior poets bringing civilization and great heaping mountains of profit and whores to the cosmos.

Equipment: A morning star on his tail, micro-AG generators that he wears on his body that look like ornately gemmed armor. He dual wields a pair of Songsteel lance like spears and its said they reflect the light of blaster bolts and lightsabers giving him an eerie prismatic aura in battle. He’s said to cut quite a gallant figure

Ship (Optional): The Ascent, an old Pius Dea Cathedral ship repurposed into the command vessel for Zanns cargo fleets and his personal estates. It’s been largely disarmed, supposedly any way. As Zann trusts his hatred but not enough to let him fly around in a fully armed capital ship.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

I CAN APPROVE MYSELF, MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH- but yeah, I asked him if it all checked out, I've been meaning to get her cs together for a while I have just been lazy about getting it typed up and then in the character tab.

@TheWatchDog

also, are you in the discord? if not i can send you a link.

@Jollan

I am indeed! I am Dark Enemy there, if that wasn't obvious

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Lythos IX Corporate Sector

It had been amusing to her, immensely so to hear the Vessel's Captain and her apprentice attempt to dissuade her from landing on Lythos Nine, the sleepy Agriworld had been almost a blip on the radar before her long sleep and evidently that hadn't changed. One of thousands of what were called "harvest worlds", the breadbaskets of the expansion region and of Coruscant and other world cities. They were a dime a dozen, perhaps more so now. To think this "corporate sector Authority" were at all going to sniff them out on this world was a laughable notion, even if their paranoia was expected and proper. -They're not all a lost cause- she thought, some of these Remnant officers simply needed reminding that they were soldiers and that even if she was a "xeno" she was still a Janus and still, their superior. Her eyes narrowed every so lightly as the solar rays of the planet's primary danced along crystal clear water that allowed for visibility up to seventy meters. Water so pure it made a prism of itself at noon, that had been a sight she caught on her first day here. What a majestic sight to behold, a whirling swirl of refractive light reminded her of the intensity of her first immersion into the force, so long ago.

Ahead of her, the former Inquisitor sat, on her knees immersing herself in the force as per her teachings. The first, true immersion the woman likely ever experienced. -we would suppress our emotions and listen to the force, channel it, or try too- Aladar had explained and -Lord Vader taught us to seek out the darkside with our fury, let it act as a lure, guide it in with bait and then subjugate it-. Of course that had never worked apparently and all she could manage was to fuel her own self hatred and guilt, her powers were stunted and she would have succumbed to darkside rot had she not mustered up the courage to seek out her better for council. fortunately, Miryia thought for she refused to take an ugly person, mottled and ruined by a moronic interpretation of how to effectively wield the darkness. She'd have killed the former inquisitor then, instead opting to teach the aesthetically and psychologically pleasing woman, though slowly for she wasn't anywhere near emotionally ready to begin to call upon the dark. To learn to refine and wield the profane material and avoid the damage therein, one must first needed to become a burning, beacon of light. To take the raw untempered core energies of the "lightside" of the force into oneself until one became a roaring furnace, a crucible fueled by the very substance that would burn away the impurities of the dark, permitting one to fold it, mold it and shape it while insulated by that most vibrant of flames. It had taken Apprentice Aladar time to comprehend this, but she could begin to detect the subtle changes in her body, the gentle regrowth of wearing muscles, the restoration of arteries that had hardened due to the violence of her youth and her adult life. -It is perverse how underutilized her talent was- the Sith, she expected to be dismissive imbeciles, their brains addled by overuse of the darkside. But the Jedi? Her former peers?

It was blasphemously disgusting.

-vile, contemplative buffoons- hands gripped around a lavish chair which obscured most of her body from the rays of tropical sun that browbeat many a spacer who'd not absorbed proper UV in quite some time. For Miryia, the sojourn on Lythos, represented not only a chance for her to test her theory, but for her to relax, to rest her mind, reconstitute her powers and stabilize her "forge" the manner in which she described the inner will of a force wielder, the wrights of the so called higher mysteries used to perform the feats lesser beings deemed miraculous. How could she have both succeeded beyond her expectations and yet failed so ruinously? Had she not planned to ensure the war would endure the ages? Culminate in the extinction of both orders? And perhaps it had, in the end, though it took an extra thousand years. Lamentably it had left everything else intact, a thing she would have to remedy. -the expenditure was well worth it- she thought, in participating in that coup de'tat and performing a minor miracle mere hours after she'd reinvigorated the faith many had in "force users" and in doing so gained no small amount of followers and her new rank, the "cultural soul" of the Empire. Charged with uniting the masses behind the idea of the New Order.. "Pontifex Invictus" she rolled the title around on her tongue again, ah yes, it was worth it but it would be nothing compared to what would come. For now though, only two things remained ahead of her, the infiltration of the Jedi Praxeum, to comprehend that soulless monstrosity and his order of pretenders.

And, to reunite with a very old friend.

Ahead of her, the woman who had been dismissed as fodder but the talentless, the stupid and the dull, delved deeply into her being and soon, her soul too began to burn within the force.

The Serpent smiled..

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Crested killers, history books and blades



"Do you know what the meaning of the word Jedi?"

"It means one serves"

The look in the Woman's eyes caused Rheanessya to cast her gaze to the floor, sometimes she felt like she was a child again back at the temple, other times the look in her master's eyes scared her more than the Grand Inquisitors had, but it was the disappointment that always cut deepest. "You are correct, but it comes from the Palawan word "Je'daii which means mystic" though Je'daii is itself a corruption of the Dai bendu word "Jee'dai" which means?"

"forceful sage?" she was trying, frantically to recall lessons that she'd barely stayed conscience through as a child, below the haze of depression , and the pervasive haze of the darkside. three fingers touched her chin elevating her face so that she was looking down into a pair of purple eyes that held within them frustration, but for the first time in her life, no contempt stare back at her. "Force Wright"

"The precursors to the Jedi likened themselves to smiths"

This was news to her, but it also made an odd degree of sense. Wielding the force had always felt less like invocation to her and more like manipulation in a technical sense. "Sometimes, I feel stupid..Master, my knowledge base"

"You were lied too, though I doubt your first master did so malevolently, long before any of us or our foremothers and fathers, a lie was told enough that it became history" Do not despair of that. The Jedi deceived via ignorance" It had reassured her. "You are dense Apprentice Aladar, you would not have come to such a sorry state were you not, but dense is not dumb and ignorance is only a sin when the ignorant chose to remain so"


-She's right- Rheanessya Aladar thought blocking a side thrust from the purple eyed woman who stood near a head shorter than her. A dark indigo blade collided with her crimson Lightsaber and the blow was furious, enough that it would have staggered many of her former peers, but Nessya as she was called in private by her master(where she chose to show an almost familial affection). Had always been much taller, much stronger than most women and a good deal of men within the order of the inquisitors and the force had only served to reinforce that. The blows were going to leave her sore, but they lacked the force the former Master Jedi could have brought to bear. -She's rusty- deadly, Nessya thought, a master of the styles she knows, but rusty. In the days following their initial exchange the former Inquisitor had eagerly thrown herself into her education, but the days were often spent attending reorganization meetings and greeting the newly made Grand Moffs and Grand Admirals and conferring on Hissa his new rank of Grand Vizier, Gilad Pellaeon Supreme Commander and to the surprise of and concern of her master and herself, merely reaffirming existing ranks for Ysanne Isard. Director general Raveem had been the easiest to please, he was content with his rank, but was given a bit more budgetary oversight and was compensated with a hefty bribe (Being given overlordship over a populated moon, that paid him taxes rather than the Empire) for his "modest contributions" which in reality were hardly "modest", without his movements none of that could have been possible. An indigo blade raked her cheek and Rheanessya Aladar barked out a cry of pain and stumbled backwards, rusty due to being of practice but even in matters of Lightsaber combat her new master was lightyears ahead of her.

She thanked her stars that the Woman's lightsaber came with a control dial that allowed her to turn the power down to sparring levels otherwise the bruise on her cheek would have been a missing face. Her lightsaber on the other hand, Miryia insisted that Nessya use it without any kind of modifier of filtration device, but to come at her with a lethal blade. She'd hesitated at first, hesitation which always made her the disgrace among the inquisitors and part of her feared similar derision but the woman merely flashed her an indignant look and asked her in a haughty voice if she believed her master was too weak to fend for herself. Once or twice, she'd flinched at that tone, memories of Miryia slaughtering her peers and pinning her to the floor bowed filled her head. But Miryia seemed true to her word! In the seventy two hours they'd been together she'd observed that the woman certainly got angry with her staff and her servants and the 501st, she'd lost her temper once with Nessya as well, but no violence ever came of it or venomous recrimination. -That trooper was as shocked as I was when she didn't force choke him, she merely called him a Bantha brained giblet eater and ordered him to do calisthenics to make up for his failure- a military woman's punishment not a Sith's. Morale was up, they felt like soldiers again and Rheanessya Aladar realized she'd begun to feel like a Knight again. Their blades crossed again, this time Miryia switched her styles from Juyo to Ataru and the Apprentice's eyes widened, rusty she might have still been but this time it was an entirely different level of skill. -Was she fighting me in a style she was unfamiliar with?!- "How long has it been master?" She'd asked when their blades locked and they were within centimeters of each other.

"Since I've wielded a lightsaber in battle? excluding the millennia I slept, seventy years" That last bit was uttered, with something almost akin to shame. Rheanessya yelped when they broke blades and her master suddenly switched to Makashi and she was "stabbed" in the thigh. Miryia tried again, Rheanessya managed to block that time and her follower up but the third hit her under the right breast and wind had been knocked out of her. Miryia had one, only one scratch on her clothing, a burn mark between her shoulder and breast where Rheanessya had gotten off the start of a strike before the woman's reflexes pulled her back. To her shock, her master appeared thankful. The candor was a balm to her soul, Miryia was always so guarded, except around the (now) 501st General Cardinal and her, though she showed traces of the same with the Bothan and Supreme Commander Pellaeon, though it seemed at times calculated with the old man. "You're learning apprentice" "and the rust is falling off your scales master"

A small smile graced her face "A snake am I?" she asked, a tone that seemed to be lyrical with laughter. Her blade disengaged and she walked over to the taller woman and pulled some errant strands of hair out of her face. Rheanessya had changed out of her inquisitorial garb and was wearing a green tunic with similar colored stormtrooper armor in a breast plate below her garb. Those gestures of affection, interspersed between moments where she was vindictively cold with others had confused her at first. It was odd, how she could be so tender towards her student and allies, but so, Sithlike in other ways. -only never call her Sith to her face- Or to her behind either, in reality.

Doors swung open and two regular army soldiers entered, her 104. Behind them, a member of the Royal guard adorned all in crimson, his robes masking his face and a force pike at hand. Miryia turned at an angle, inclining her head to look down at the personal royal guard of the man she'd just crushed to death upon his own throne three days ago and who served the heretic freak before him. Grand Moff Hissa had insisted she take a detail of the Royal guard and fly in one of their capital ships. Miryia was not about to take a kriffing Star Destroyer unescorted anywhere again nor was she going to take an entire ISD battlegroup anywhere near Pentastar space and so she opted to let him have his childish show of force displays and need to "heap prestige" by his own hand upon her and opted to take a Dreadnaught class Heavy Cruiser..one hilariously painted in the colors of the Royal guard...A reminder, that they were broken now and existed on their sufferance.

-A people should know when they're beaten- Miryia had told her. -As I knew- she countered and when her master nodded and asked her why she decided to rise above it, the reason for such harshness became clear. It motivated and her treatment of sentients who did find the strength to rise was always cordial at worst, outright friendly at best. "We're about to come out of hyperspace, we shall enter orbit five minutes after that...Invictus...Janus"

Ah yes, it was insisted that Miryia not merely revive the inquisitors or some other preexisting Imperial title. If she was to be the mother of a new force using order, one sworn to uphold the tenets of Order and keep the imperial peace then they intended to do what the Republic had, make that order the spiritual and cultural "Capital" of the Empire, the codification of its way of life as the Sith had been. The Rank of "Pontifex Invictus" was created for her, she would be the head of a new cult and the commander of its legions, all to reinvigorate the Empire. But that didn't mean the Crimson guard had to like it, nor did it mean she was magically going to forgive them for siding with weakness and in doing so, nearly costing the Galaxy everything.

Invictus Janus, it meant the Imperial Remnant was now ruled by a tripod of power. A thing Rheanessya knew to be incredibly unstable, fortunately she was her mistress' support as it seemed were her allies.

Ysane Isard had proposed that title, the former title of the Supreme Commander of the Humanocentric, Jedi killing cult Pius Dae that had been wiped out some ten thousand years before the coming of the Sith and had been in their day. The woman's passive aggression backfired when she gladly took the title "to claim it in the name of those they sought to destroy"

"Have you begun broadcasting the signal?"

"As you have instructed Invictus Janus"

"Set us down, someplace sunny, he rather liked the sound of tropical birds"

The Crimson clad praetorian looked up, but Miryia dismissed him with a gesture before slowly curling in a turn, allowing her robes to wrap about her body in a way that indeed, reminded Nessya of serpent scales. "You have questions apprentice"

"Won't enemies notice the call?"

Miryia waited a moment, allowing Nessya to process what she'd just asked and then the woman blushed "forgive me..any personal code you transmit would be two thousand years old" though, she thought, it might still be on record, a database of cold distress and call signals maintained to ensure no rescue vessels were dispatched chasing ghosts from millennia passed. Sensing this Miryia inclined her head in an almost imperceptible nod. "But this was a code of mine in no records, for only one other person in the Galaxy used it"

Nessya raised her eyebrows, who, from those ancient times could still be alive? Beside her?

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

...double post damnit

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

you know? Zsinj's Mandalorian Dog, might be able to use this Chiss to fuck with Ja'Karr...

hrmm...

My Hider

Name: Mi'la Vi'keema

Age: 22

Race: Twi'lek



Brief Bio:

Mi'la was born a slave, just as her mother, under the Black Sun pirates. From labor when she was a child to pleasing carnal desires of her owners when she matured, she had never known what it was like to be free. She did, however, find small sparks of kindness in the darkness of her life from one of her owners bodyguards. When Mi'la was called upon to service the leader of the Black Sun, chosen for her beauty, rare color, and hassle free submissiveness, she would meet Zilas, who was the only person after her mother's passing who ever seemed to treat her with care, or tried to lessen the pain of her slavery where he could. Every now and then even sneaking treat for her or gifts that she would hide away.

A couple years went by and during some strange raid on the ship she was servicing, there were a pair of what Mi'la could only assume at the time were jedi, little did she know that they came looking specifically for her, to release her from this life, and tap into gifts that she never knew she had. Three years pass, and Mi'la was now an official apprentice to Je'kaar, the leader of the Free Force. Neither Jedi nor Sith, but a balance in the middle, people who thought rationally about a situation instead of adhering to the strict dogma of either side of the force.

Faction: Order of the Free Force

Why has your character joined this faction?

They are the ones that freed her from her slavery and showed her the force powers hidden within her.

Personality:
Kind hearted, yet uncertain. With her newfound freedom, she is often unsure of her own choices, and lacks self confidence. Having never been able to decide anything for herself, she always seems to ask someone else if they think something is alright to do or if they might agree with her way of thinking, looking for confirmation. She has a deep hatred for the Black Sun Pirates, for obvious reasons, and a deep loyalty to the Free Force. She has found a knack for tinkering with things and finds it stress relieving, even when her projects seem to fail, unless that failure get someone else hurt, then it worries her greatly enough to not want to try making that particular thing again. While having been trained to fight, she prefers not to, but when she does, she tries to end it as fast as possible, often relying on her blaster before even reaching for her lightsaber.

Equipment:
A short polearm like lightsaber that can come apart in two parts. The emitter, switch, first leather wrapped handle followed by a basic extension as the first part serve as the main construct of the lightsaber. In this state, it only produces a single regular length blade from the center emitter. When the rest of the extension is locked in, however, more power is given to the blade, lengthening it nearly a foot (from 26 inches to 37) and activating the two side emitters. In this configuration, it acts more of a short polearm, and has a slight curve at the end of the staff addition for extra purchase and control. The side emitters allow for blade catching and disarming enemy weapons. This added length allows Mi'la to stay a bit out of reach of conventional lightsabers in a dual. Other than that, she has a basic mechanics kit that she keeps with her at all times, though anything more than that she has stored at home or i the hangar. She also carries a DC-17 heavy blaster pistol from the clone wars era that is meticulously well taken care of. It was the first thing Ja'kaar gave her when he liberated her and she made sure to take good care of it ever since.

her 'saber' of sorts

DC-17 heavy blaster pistol

@Jollan

Yo @Honesty Crow was this one approved?

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

The student, the cobra and the mournful orphan



The return to her palace had been spent in the same silence, albeit the tener seemed changed. The regular soldiers while fearful of her, seemed to behold her with wide, curious eyes. The blood stain on her cheek confirming what was being shouted and screeched, which filled with a dread of a different sort. The fear of exposure, of retaliation, of being killed for their part in this palace coup by the surviving forces loyal to the dead. One of them, a human male in his forties reached up to scratch his neck under his tight collar, his uniformed which had been pressed and neatly arrayed earlier seemed as frazzled as his heart rate suggested, but the other, the younger one managed a question brought on by a mix of fear and audacity. "Did you really tell Grand Admiral Pitta that you could smell his inferiority?" he asked with a near giddy laugh and the other soldier elbowed him "You're out of line!" he turned to apologize only for the woman to raise a hand "He is, but he is young and does not see the concerns you do" she turned and nodded her head ever so slightly causing the younger soldier to smile "man, it's almost worth being tortured to death by assassin droids over"

Perhaps, he wasn't as young as she thought, at least not mentally. "What's your division soldier?" her tone was an odd mix of her usual aloof formality with hints of genuine interest and the older man surprised muttered the One Hundred and Fourth. To their surprise she leaned back and let out a soft chuckle "You are a continuation of the clone division then?" "Who was the successor to the original Nightfighters Master Janus" the youth said eagerly not realizing he might have tread on dangerous water any other day. Miryia let out a nostalgic breath her head craning to gaze at the cityscape, eclipsed now in the brightly lit dark of a Coruscanti night. "I commanded the One Hundred and Fourth in the Thousand Years war, what you call the New Sith Wars". Their eyes flickered as if to say we know and she nodded, it was decided then. "Tonight you still remain posted at my palace, tomorrow in the morning I will request the One Hundred and Fourth be transferred under the Command of General Cardinal" she'd issued the Captain his new rank on the way out of the Senate meeting, the hundred and first would be reconstituted and it would be the legion that would fight beside her Knights, their vanguard.

"y-you would have us serve you again?!"

She nodded and passed the rest of the right in contemplative silence. Only speaking when she arrived to assure the Storm troopers from the five hundred and First who were scrambling to get their kits and armor on, that their service was needed here where they would begin the process of rebuilding their unit. "Why didn't you want us what you were planning?" One asked, nearly being struck by another for his arrogance. And it was arrogant and presumptive, any other soldier, even an elite of the Storm Trooper corps would have been beaten for his arrogant demand, but the five hundred and first would be hers one day, the personal guard legions of the one she crowned Emperor. While she leveled a harsh stare at the soldier it followed a hand resting on his forearm "Because I would not have the Empire's Fist be seen as mercenary thugs who sold themselves to the winning side. Your honor never left you, even if others believe it was only today restored. But if you had participated in that fracas even to protect me, you surely would have" her hand tightened over the man's wrist and she turned to walk towards the interior leaving her men grim and yet filled with a fire of inspiration, if she was willing to chequer her own honor for them, then perhaps they truly were the elite they'd been in their "youth".

After she'd bathed and again changed her garb, retaining the purple robes but shedding the combat armor and appearing more as though she was prepared for something leisurely if formal. Miryia made her way across the sprawling fountains of the water gardens that made up one of the interior patios. The moons were high in the sky, their own city lights of the colonies that serviced the truly monolithic in scope power plants and relay systems that fed the planetary shield system and its sensors and defense satellites. She sat in rest for several hours, delving into a relaxed meditation to center her emotions and review the events of the day, to replay the faces and the people who had survived. The face of that heterochromatic Isard kept playing over and over in her mind, as if the pivot of destiny, the force amplifying her instincts and feeding off the emotions and memories of others seemed to be warning her or? Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar presence, one she'd humbled earlier and yet, it was so much more intense, emotional, distraught and potent? Purple eyes opened, casting an eerie shine in the semi dark. Before her, in supplication was the Inquisitor with the robotic eye, kneeling and showing deference if not submission?

She'd spared herself from being thrown through a wall by revealing more of herself. "Have you not learned your lesson" she asked, her voice holding contempt. "Forgive me, my lady I was merely trying to offer escort...But..you were right" she relented, tears stained her cheeks and hair that was kept in a bun was messy and frayed and Miryia noted that her clothing was disheveled as if she'd been tearing things apart, tearing herself apart. What caught the Jedi's eyes though, was that while she looked a mess now, when pristine earlier she held less dignity and less introspection. But the remaining eye caught her attention more than anything, it was an vibrant green and filled with an anguish that, much to her own displeasure at admitting she knew well. -you're a mother- she thought, only fathers and mothers could have such sad, bent eyes yet retain such unflinching resolve. "Of course I was, look at you" Miryia hissed realizing at once how blind the Inquisitors had been, how ignorant Lord Vader had been! What Miryia had guessed at being a thirty year old was closer to thirty five, yet she looked closer to twenty five. The force flowed inside of her, to such a degree her cells regenerated more efficiently, enough that her aging was slowed slightly. It was rare for even Jedi's that were wholly human to live beyond two hundred and thirty years and most fell in combat or died of old age closer to one hundred and ten. That she was still restoring herself despite, yes, yes! She could sense it, the scarring in her liver, the damage to her arteries all regenerating, repairing and it was happening now? Not over a period of years, as though whatever personal revelation she'd reached had activated her inner refinery. -They relegated this child to a subordinate? She'd have made a great Jedi, Sith would fawn over this talent before those Baninite fools- she thought, but to keep the girl focused she avoided any praise yet.

"You, who have allowed your potential to be subsumed by your guilt and perverted your form by serving inferior masters? How can I not think you are lower than the vermin?!"

That surprised the woman who looked up, dared to look up and something sparked in her eyes, something, far away. "I...forgive me, my first master once said the same of my potential I"

First master? Now this intrigued her "elaborate child"

"Well...I..." the woman swallowed. "I was a Jedi, a Padawan in the last days of the order, my master a Knight died to save me, I was eleven..I think..I ran and..I tried to honor her, I tried to stay alive" Her voice was tight, it was holding back tears but not at her own circumstances at? Miryia remained seated, straightening as if she were a sovereign about to issue a proclamation. "but you lost yourself and indulged yourself"

"And sold myself into slavery to avoid starvation..things were done..things were"

"and you wish me to absolve you of those sins?" she asked feigning disgust. "No, I..." "my time is precious and my patience is not eternal" "I...Mistress" eyes narrowed dangerously at that "Master" "I am not your master!" she hissed back "Please...I HAVE CHILDREN!"'

Ah, Miryia thought as the woman broke into tears sobbing on bended knee. "I'm so tired, of hate, of rage, of pointless service. I want..I left them..I had too, one is at the Jedi temple an initiate, he's my oldest, twenty" So, they ravaged her young then? And her boy was in the service of that..abomination? "the others, are younger, one is in the Imperial academy..logistics training..the other is on Chadrilla..I...have never" she tried to master herself but her shoulders shook. "I have never seen them since I gave them up, I can't bring myself to look at them..I am tired of feeling like that! Feeling adrift, I want to be a Knight!" she shouted the last part out, her eyes rising to meet Miryia's and there was defiance there, mixed with respect and humility and eagerness and not desperation? Good..good..she thought.

This poor creature might not be as inferior as she believed it was.

"I could kill you for such presumption"

"you won't though" she murmured, between gasps. Undaunted, no hesitation, no despair but faith? The woman's eyes narrowed but without any menace and she rose, slowly and walked toward her. "I was a Jedi Master, yes, but I am Jedi no longer, I am a Knight true but I do not serve the will of the force, for the force has none. I serve ideals, codes, valor, justice, order, the endless war against corruption, stagnation, savagery and the dimming of the lights of civilization and it may be that my war is a doomed one"

"A cause is only doomed if its empty or forsaken Knight Janus, that is what I know" Now that was presomption! And self indulgence, but it was wisdom hard earned and to the surprise of the Inquisitor she felt a hand touch her cheek and then she felt an odd twinge, an odd surge, warmth filled her body and she felt the mechanical prosthetic fall from her temple, the implant push out of her eye socket, something that should have hurt and yet? As metal, circuity and servos were purged she could feel pressure in her sinus cavity and then tears began to fall from a new eye! an eye that beheld the woman who'd nearly killed her months ago and dismissed her like a rat earlier taking an exhausted breath as if the effort had taxed her. It was the only time she showed any signs of fatigue and around them every plant was withered and ruined as if she'd ripped the life force out of them to build her a new eye. "Sith..alchemy?" she asked tearfully and the woman shook her head "Jee'dai, the ancient Forcewrights of old, the precursors to the Jedi and Bendu mysticism, it is not something I can do easily and you will not be my padawan, that is not our word. You shall be my student, my apprentice, my protege, the first of many and in time you will help me raise a legion of Knights dedicated to our cause"

"M..master?"

Slowly the cobra nodded "yes, what is your name child?" "Rheanessya Aladar" she whispered and the sobs came again, but they were akin to a breaking of a dam and power held back by guilt and time, by the foolishness of the Darkside adepts was breaking forward and Miryia did something she hadn't done in a long age.

She pulled the woman into an embrace that was as maternal as it was fierce holding her for several moments before bringing her up to their full height (of which Rhenessya stood almost a head taller). "Rheanessya Aladar, you came to me on your knees lower than a slave, you rise now a Knight and my first student in one thousand, eight hundred years"

"I do not know if the future holds reconciliation for your children and you, but I promise you, the one son who walks the Jedi's path will come home and you will face him with your warriors pride intact. This I swear to you"

As I swear it to the galaxy

"As you will it Master!"

A slow, half crazed yet oddly warm smile crept across her face, a genuine, true smile.

At last, she thought.

the great crusade begins.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Pestage's Folly


As the world went dark, Miryia stood in the middle of the room, in the chaos. Blaster bolts and debris danced around her and yet seemed to warp, as the woman channeling the force in ways she hadn't in months, allow every cell of her being to become infused with the raw essence. the power that she proceeded to refine and craft, allowing her skill and experience to form a low level EM field about her form that kept her from being hit by blaster bolt, for in her arrogance she refused to dodge. A broken bottle and a bloody skull, weaponry dancing about her, fire and smoke and pure chaos. Chaos, with a purpose, chaos controlled, chaos ordered, the overt contraction whose overlap allowed for the proliferation of civilization, of life. -I would control the chaos with order, Sidious wished to unleash that chaos without any foresight- and this, macabre stalemate and revilization had been brought about in part by her own actions, her own plans, which had...Her mind trailed off, fury, regret and disgust filling her mind as she beheld the end results of her long sleep, her inattentiveness. "I was so close" she whispered, so close and yet so far. Unless?

Something pressed against her back and she realized Grand Admiral Octavian grant realized she was one of the safest spots to be near and so nearly leaned against her, lazily picking off stragglers, wounded, or people foolish to try and shoot them both. "your offer was stimulating" whatever was passed between them remained hidden and for a time the Jedi gazed at the Bothan and his dutiful bodyguard, who had managed to impress Miryia with her tireless defense of the lunatic was merely enjoying the show and marveling at his work? Miryia allowed a slight smile to gut at the corner of her lips -You used me, but you knew well enough to give me an opening- a credit to his race, to be sure..She would have to pay him back, he was certainly proving to be interesting. Utter chaos as a clusterkriff burned itself out and the dust began to settle as power was rerouting and lighting began to slowly crawl back into utility, displaying a grizzly bed of carnage and gore and the dead and dying. To her surprise, not only had Grand Moff Hissa managed to survive but it had seemed as though he did a fairly good job of competing with Karius in body count and Miryia gave both men a nod, with her eyes lingering on Karius for a fraction of a second longer. Her people survived it seemed as had the other Viper in the room who now found herself standing among the ruins of nearly all her professional rivals and with several declared allies including one of her own who had also chosen to support Isard. Miryia cast her a courteous nod and then a challenging look before she turned and walked passed Phasma and the Bothan, her hand clasping Phasma on the shoulder "You do your master a credit" she walked passed the woman towards the wreckage, surveying more of the dead including a Moff who suffered a shattered arm for grabbing her rear at a function a month ago. Gilad Pellaeon rose, managing to keep uniform immaculate and unwrinkled even as he jumped for cover.

The woman beside him had fire in her eyes but she was the dutiful second, a sense of awareness possessed her sight and she stood protectively beside Gilad as if to defend her Admiral should the Jedi turn her wrath towards him. "You may stand down, your Admiral is a patriot and I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him" she turned regarding Phasma as if to say the same applied to Raveem, for the time being any way, only the passage of more months and years would reveal to her what she should ultimately do with both men. A scream rang out, everyone turned to see the Bothan fall, a look of theatrical horror passed over Miryia's face. Which quickly turned to a soft chuckle as he "rose from the dead" to put a venomous dart in the throat of the man who'd just tried to kill him. The Jedi watched Grand Admiral Pitta die, her eyes flickering as she extended her awareness into his being, sensing how the poison killed him . "Quite impressive, director general"

Now, it came time to get to the heart of the matter as the whimpering pleas of the a thing who fancied itself a man. A flicker of Miryia's fingers forced the disreputable dimwit up, she forced to sit upon the chair once again, that silly thing Pestage mistakenly believed gave him power. "Mercy?" her eyes flickered with malice and indignation, as if she'd waste time torturing this simple fool who was beneath the insects. "Mercy? Well, I am a Jedi Knight, a master of the council no less and I suspect the last one alive in the whole of the Galaxy" she smiled, almost serenely and it was the most disturbing thing Sate Pestage had said. "Yes, I think I shall grant you mercy" Miryia's eyes flickered and she raised a hand and Sate Pestage let out a gurgle as the woman compressed his bones into the chair which broke and bent under the power. As his brain ceased to function the last thing he'd have felt was the collapse of his pelvis and the rupture of all of his lower intestines as she warped the imbeciles throne around his body until it seemingly devoured him.

An apt metaphor.

But she couldn't stop to savor it, she'd torn apart their precious New Order and now it was time to rebuild it. She turned her upperbody, her cloak wrapping about her figure, drops of blood smeared part of her right cheek and some droplets fell into her hair, though nothing in the entire battle had stained her, as if she allowed it to happen, as if she either wished to feel her enemies blood on her or she was simply emphasizing a point.

Whatever that point was.

"We must replace them, we are surrounded by enemies on all sides even within. But they must not be sycophants. While the New Order was tainted at its birth, this day can become a crucible. We can reorganize, reorder ourselves, refound a dynasty to endure ten thousand years and ten thousand more." idly her hand moved to her lightsaber, it twitched lightly, for she realized she hadn't wielded it in so long. But also, as a soft threat..Unite, rally to the cause and place the cause above yourself.

Or stand attainted. "I don't want that accursed chair" she added with a sense of certitude. "Grand Vizier is not a position I want"

She paused, allowing the room to grow quiet, allowing the bewildered survivors a chance to process what was coming next "Nor do I desire to be empress, this Galaxy needs a higher calling, a unifying faith in men and women of flesh and bone and soul as well as in an institution. Gentlemen, ladies...you will provide the institution. I shall provide the faith"

Here, she let out a breath...finally, it could begin.

Here, Miryia raised a hand, it sparked with golden lightning but not menacingly, more it seemed to be a beacon, for it drew at last the curious spectators from outside who for some strange reason hadn't noticed the battle until now.

"Imperial Grand Moff Bertrof Hissa" her voice boomed, holding with it the majesty of a cobra and the intensity of a zealot. "Rise from your seat of carnage Grand Vizier" he'd proven himself adept at navigating the treachery, even if he was an over the top lunatic. He was also, someone who understood when he was being given an ultimatum and one that involved being handed power, even if it might have been illusory. She'd just declared him the head of state, the master of the bureaucracy and any objections any of the surviving Royal guard might have had to her total usurpation of the role of the Sith cult in the order of the Empire died in their throats when they beheld the "chair".

After that, Miryia eyed Raveem "I suppose the rest is up to you, it is not my place to order your entire Government" walking towards the bar she allowed herself a moment of self indulgence. The force swirled around her and a bottle of fine Corellian brandy lifted from one of the shelves. The cork removed itself and two glasses were poured. That was when the arrogant woman finally used her hands, hand the Bothan a drink before taking hers. "You are clever Bothan, clever enough to be worth my gratitude, even if you did use me as a catalyst" rising the woman moved towards the door.

Before stopping and turning back to Octavian Grant who seemed to gesture towards Gilad Pellaeon. Miryia laughed "Reluctant Admiral, I believe they mean to foist the trappings of power upon your shoulder. Might I suggesting adopting a cape as part of your uniform"

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

@Honesty Crow

Pestage's Folly



Miryia Farlina of House Janus, Jedi Master and architect of atrocity, engineer of conflict and what one Sith termed a "mistress of false flags", had long suspected a truth that was almost too terrible to put to words a truth that had dismayed her almost as much as the realization that her long sleep had denied her the chance to guide the dark age, to push the fall to where the slate would be wiped clean. Punishment, she once thought for her greatest sin, her greatest gamble. But she'd awoken to a Galaxy that was born in the culmination of the first stage of her plan and then, to see a Sith carry it out, only to implement what should have been the second act at the end of the first millennia of the war, for his own personal vanity and not out of a broken souls nihilistic rampage when he realized the truth. That those who valued their individuality, their vast personal might beyond any other treasure save their freedom was merely, the last in a long line of puppets for the will not of the force, but a single sentient who held both they and their mortal enemies in Judgment. No, she thought, he engineered the New Order, to sound as appealing as possible, the great pipe dream of so many, so much of the galaxy only for it to be governed by the most unstable, ignorant, degenerate, imbecilic batch of inferiors in the known universe! It wasn't designed to endure long without him, not the sith, but him...The Sith were dead, their legacy would have lived on solely in his malformed and atrophied soul, not his apprentice, but him and he'd intended to endure ten thousand years!

And if he couldn't achieve that, then the Galaxy could burn around his ashes, a magnificent pyre to sate the vanity of the universe's biggest fool! Orchested by the pathetic clowns, thugs, vermin and upjumped slaves she saw before her. Slowly, the room began to grow cold. Slowly, the walls began strain until finally plasmarble cracked and lights began to flicker. Miryia bowed her head and one of the Royal guardsmen stammered backwards, he might have been force sensitive, not enough to merit even a spot on the Inquisitors but enough that he perceived what was truly before him and he gave a yelp "My Lord! This thi-" he went silent, as a laughter, that might have been beautiful when it was filled with joy but was filled with a madness that froze his blood! Oh, he was no stranger to laughter of monsters, for he'd served The Emperor, his dark lord well but where Sidious had the frenzied laugh of a malevolent being high on his own darkness, this, this was a corruption of light, a burning insanity that terrified him. Her laughter rose, a chorus above the bickering and the posturing. Miryia's shoulders briefly became lopsided, her posture contorted, her hands clenched into fists, bone white hair fell about shoulders that were ordinarily statuesque and yet not looked like the costume of something, not at all humanoid and more akin to a eldrichian serpent. For the briefest of seconds, before she straightened again and the world saw only the gallant, noble image she intended the world to see.

Until she spoke, her voice was powerful, commanding, in it was the authority of a Master of the Jedi Order, a woman bred to rule, a noble, a war hero, a complete and utter lunatic. "How did the fool mean to achieve it?! Via clones? Life theft? Alchemically created golems?" she asked in a contemptuous hiss, Pestage who'd been wheezing out a kill order, went silent in horrified recognition at her question...But he remained silent. Others in the room paused at the seeming absurdity of the question. "You! Stunted Hoodrat! Ghetto born swine! Bastard son of a whore, drug spawned degenerate, disappointment in the eyes of your father" How she knew these things about a man whose entire life was obscured to all save Palpatine witnesses would later speculate on. "Your better has addressed you! Oh? You won't speak! Are you fearful? Or have the decades of spice use and venereal diseases accumulated from Twi'lik leavings of your sodomous paramours addled your brain beyond all memory?" The last part might have been a total calumny for all she knew, all she knew was that it was what people of his level were, diseased and she didn't care if he was the exception. Pitta was about to speak and Miryia turned, the sheer fury in her eyes, the icy contempt, the revealing glare that recognized silent him

"And you, filthy, fraud! Do you think your blustering venom can conceal your true nature from my powers? Or my senses? Fool! I'm Arkanian, engineered to be superior, I can smell the stench of non human DNA all of your body! And you, who are so mongrelized that you can't even name the species who had sex with your foremothers to yield you, who no doubt crawled, bawling from the rancid pit between your mystery meat mothers legs! You dare slander a Bothan whose blood is pure? Whose lineage higher than any in this soom save Grand Admiral Grant and myself? You detestable spawn of immiserated slave! Freedman trash! Your vehence betrays your coward's hypocrisy!" Some other imbecile Grand Admiral appeared as though he were about to say something, perhaps in her defense. It was the one who used narcotics to expand his mind, she sent a simple thought to him -When I want the opinion of someone who might be found in an alley with a stim shooter in his arm next to Pitta's mother I'll ask for yours, stay silent for now-

"Do none of you know?! Hah! You pathetic creatures, of course you wouldn't know! How could you? You who recite the pledge to establish a new and peaceful order upon a galaxy, the loyal, the brave and the true fighting for the justice of the wise, dispensed from on high to the teaming masses of a Galaxy inundated by corruption! Do you truly lack the self awareness to see it? Or are you so afraid of the truth? You reprobate fools champion order?! The Emperor's peace! YOUR EMPIRE IS A LIE! DESIGNED BY A FOOL CHASING IMMORTALITY OF THE FLESH!" Her voice cracked like a thunderous scream and she whipped around and flashed Raveem a look that suggested he should pay close attention to the reactions of many, for some began to see what she was saying and their eyes filled with fury at the betrayal from the very roots of their cause and were reinvigorated by a desire to restore the New Order free of its chains while others despaired and most gawked like fools who thought her mad.

"This Galaxy had a chance to start again! The force! Had a chance to be understood for what it was truly and you braying carrion eating jesters fight amongst yourself Squandering it?! You speak of treason while you maneuver yourselves to gorge on the leavings!" A new order of Force users, true Knights dedicated to order and justice, warrior priests and scholars with blades, fighting side by sight with the elite of the Storm Troopers. For that alone, they were all damned. "And now, you brawl like thugs? Traitors I name you!" her voice grew less mad but the held in it a prelates intensity, a ferver of religion, she wasn't merely insulting them but judging with the certitude of one given a mandate from what many considered the will of the force (even though she scoffed at such notions). "lower your weapons..no? You won't?"

She flicked her left hand forward with an alarming suddenness and golden lightning roared from her palm and impacted against one of the guards flanking Pestage with enough force to blow his torso wide open, blood sprayed about the room, armor splintered and one of his ribs rebounded off the head of Grand Moff Hissa who roared with delight and pulled a blaster.

The room went dark as walls cracked and lights failed leaving only the glow of blaster fire, vibroblades

And a pair of serpents eyes.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

@Honesty Crow

Pestage's Folly



For the briefest of moments the woman went silent, her eyes flickering at the mention of the Bothan's clan name and things began to fall into place. He'd played her, not for his benefit entirely, though it was clear he derived a great deal of amusement from her reaction. His mind erratic as it was spoke for an order in the chaos and Miryia declined to probe further, not wanting to risk what almost always happened when she tried to read the minds of the uninitiated (and even some who were) into the mysteries of force craft. She laughed, it might have been the only genuine laugh she'd laughed in a long age. "Vas'Ah, I begin to understand why you're among the few nonhumans in Imperial leadership" she inclined her head to the side, as if acknowledging his game and she straightened slightly, a serpent infurling its hood so that one who earned the right to gaze might get a better look. "I knew your clan, not entirely personally, but your reputation was well earned before the Thousand years war." As a Padawan both her and her master were assigned to protect a Bothan Senator of that clan, his rhetoric and his relentlessness against his political enemies had admittedly inspired some of her later movements against the Sith.

As phasma was introduced and bowed, the Arkanian's smile constricted into a smirk. "You've trained this one well, though I thought she was a product of our genetic engineering until I came close enough to take in her scent, she's baseline human..Albeit remarkable for the ordinary." It was then the topic shifted to Pestage and Miryia's eyes grew slightly harder, she'd planned on accusing him of knowing there was a forged relic and sending them out to die. It was a good line to lead with if predictable, but perhaps he opened additional doors? And other vectors? His eyes seemed to catch what she was thinking, ever a student of body language were Bothans as it was their way to know how to manipulate the people they wished to manipulate. Knowing this she allowed a nod in confirmation and opted not to debase his intelligence by lying to him but to lead with the truth and her own insights. "I am the only one who can refute the lies that wrinkled, prune of a malcontented reprobate is likely spinning to cover for the fact that he sent the remnants of the Five Hundred and First, Admiral Karius and myself out there under escorted because he expected it would be depressingly easy to abscond with the Holocron. And if by mischance a fleet of terrorist trash from Alliance space entered our vicinity, well it was no loss." To say nothing, she thought; of the fact that both he and that aged, chandrillan tart were both made to look absolutely foolish by whomever among the three who arrived that had truly stolen the holocron.

The Rebels looked worse, for it was on their watch the fraud took place, for after hearing what the bartender said she knew they had the genuine article once before. "Walk with me, if that diseased, hoodrat and his flock of garbage eaters believe they can use this to deprive the Remnant of proper soldiers and deny me then they are fools far more deserving of a beating than that wretched beast you sent to retrieve me is..."

Miryia moved forward, the fabric trailing around and behind her giving the impression she slithered more than walked. One of her hands twitched, she'd held herself in check and played the dutiful subordinate for far too long and it was clear she was chafing on her self imposed chains.

Making it clear she wanted blood.

She'd nearly flown up the steps and made it halfway through the great hall of the Senate building before the other two caught up to her. Before them several Stormtroopers in crimson motioned to stop her "sorry Master Janus, we were given orders that only the director and his...." the trooper stopped talking the moment his gaze fell on the Arkanian's, the hall seemed to grow smaller around him, the air stuffy and took a breath "Are you his guest?"

A slight nod was all the confirmation he needed to justify giving into the terror he began to feel and the doors opened. To the guards surprise, Miryia allowed Raveem to enter beside her, the only an inch or so of space ahead of him, which was an odd thing. In the two months that she'd attended these meetings she allowed none of her escorts or those who were part of the meetings but walked in with her to be fewer than ten paces behind her.

As they moved closer to the archway leading to the former Senate chamber where they gathered before entering the main Senate Hall, she could hear the bickering already and laughed derisively. The pathetic scavengers didn't even have enough of to fill a qaurter of the Senate chamber and so bartered and bickered like back alley thugs haggling over spice prices, the sterility of prostitutes or the availability of Deathsticks.

And soon a new sound emerged over the fray, her contemptuous laughter that rose like a hiss, brimming with venom and a sort of madness that many wrote about but few understood.

"Ah, Admiral Karius!" Grand Admirals Grant and Tigellinus, who looked like they would rather be attending one of the balls going on in orbit at one of the Sky palaces finally perked up as the odd trio entered. Miryia threw her arms open in a cross like manner, her cloak flowing behind her, casting a hooded shadow about the room. "I came, because Director-General Raveem here was so kind as to warn me that you were in danger! But I see no threat to you here" Her voice grew cold, its melodies wove from their usual formality into something more potent, commanding and condemnatory. "I do see a great many vultures! I look about me and see" she turned her head now eying some Moff's "The weak" her gaze leveled to several others and two Generals "The feckless" again her eyes shifted towards those born of lower class "The Help"

And then she turned to Sate Pestage "And the absurd" she spoke the last part loudly, her voice echoed through the room in challenge.

But she wasn't so provincial as to challenge his authority, no as far as she was concerned the matter of his right to rule was decided, her inflection made it clear she was hitting him low and outright questioning his mental capacities. As if to say he was too cognitively impaired to rule more than a tablet and some coloring lazers and perhaps a toy speeder or two.