The Throne room of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic served as a mobile Capitol and Chancellor's main command post away from Coruscant. As result it was the nerve center of the Republic with direct links to the senate so he could project himself there if need be at any time day or night.
The room was quite large and at one end hung the flags of the Republic flanking the Chancellor's desk, this was what was seen by the citizens of the Republic. At the other end of the room, there was a sinsiter looking red cymbol etched into the black tile of of the room. There were several hooded statues standing in a circle, a memorial to the Jedi fallen Jedi is what the PR team claimed, it served as a reminder to the Chancellor of his fondess of the Jedi Order. In the same area of the throne room, there were doors which led to the Chancellor's private quarters and meeting room. It was here that the true business of the Republic was conducted.
The entrance to the throne room was guarded by two columns of troopers dressed in red armour with the same symbol that was engraved in the floor etched in black on their chest plates. These guards were highly trained and would prove more than a distraction for anyone attempting to enter unnanounced.
The interior doors were guarded by four of the Chancellor's elite color guard dressed simmilarly in red armor, but wielding advanced melee weapons that were resistant to lightsabers. These Elite Guards were fannatical in their support and loyalty and trained to deal with any assailants that the Chancellor might face. It was rumored that at least two of the guards were possibly force sensitve. There were Six other members of the Color Guard that were stationed on the ship, the worked in shifts to ensure peak readiness. However when the Chancellor was meeting with guests, all ten would be on duty.
The Grand Throne Room
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
The doors to the throne room opened the sound of music echoed through the spacious confines of the elegant room. Past the markings on the floor was a grand desk with flags of the Republic hanging from the ceiling in a symmetrical fashion. The symbol on the floor matched that of the one etched into the armour of the red troopers.
The aura of the room was cold and unfeeling, the elegance matched only by the perceived emptiness of the space, not in the physical sense, but something more elusive seemed missing from the environment of the room. The temperature was comfortable, matching the normal setting for that of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, not that Jedi needed to concern themselves as much with such things, but it was an added touch. To the right of the desk as the visitors would perceive it there was a small buffet set up with assorted fruits, yogurts, and of course granola. Conspicuously absent from the assortment was the beverage tray and cart which had been moved behind his desk.
The Chancellor was standing facing the flags, his aura unchanged from the last time they met, still a milky white aura that was as innocent as newborn. There was no tarnish, nor cracks in the man's aura. He stood there staring at the wall in simple clothes, somewhat dressed down from the last time they had encountered him. He wore a simple traveling cloak over collared shirt and plain casual black pants. Of course never absent was the seal of the supreme chancellor embroidered into the black and red cloak. He waited for them to enter, he knew they were tired, he knew their night and early morning had been a long one. They had been busy.
He took a long breath in through his nose, his hands were folded behind his back, visible to all in the room, a ring ordained his right ring finger, a simple gold with runes etched into it, he closed his palm a bit hiding the nature of the runes, as pointless as that might be given the fact that the cat had been let out of the bag so to speak. There were things that still needed to be left unsaid, stones that needed to lay untouched for the time being anyway. They had questions.
They had a great deal of questions.
He of course was willing to answer them in time, the time was drawing near when all that was to be revealed would be revealed and his plan would continue. So many years it had been since he had been at their temple as a young man, so many years had come and passed, so many lives changed, so many storms weathered, and so much blood had been spilled to afford him this moment. This singular moment in the passage of time that was his to share with these brave protectors of the peace in the galaxy. What an honor it should be for him to host them, to have them in his presence and allow them to be a part of his plans. The glory and honor of the Republic was at stake and this was a test of wills, a test of morality. What was right and what was wrong.
Oh did he know something about right and wrong. All those visions of his childhood that had tortured him for so money years, the blood as he used to call it, back when everything was dirty as he saw it. The cleaning process itself was dirty at first, but it had become more refined over the years and had gotten to the point where it had been cleaner. Everything had been made cleaner and soon all would be clean, no dirt would remain, the cleansing fires of....
He spun on his heal in a refined and practiced manner and bowed respectfully to the Jedi as they were escorted in.
"Good morning my friends, rest well? You look exhausted. I'm terribly sorry, the quarters were inadequate I take it?"
He offered them a warm and comforting smile, the smile of a man whose empathy was obvious, a smile that said his soul thrived on caring for others in their time of pain.
The aura of the room was cold and unfeeling, the elegance matched only by the perceived emptiness of the space, not in the physical sense, but something more elusive seemed missing from the environment of the room. The temperature was comfortable, matching the normal setting for that of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, not that Jedi needed to concern themselves as much with such things, but it was an added touch. To the right of the desk as the visitors would perceive it there was a small buffet set up with assorted fruits, yogurts, and of course granola. Conspicuously absent from the assortment was the beverage tray and cart which had been moved behind his desk.
The Chancellor was standing facing the flags, his aura unchanged from the last time they met, still a milky white aura that was as innocent as newborn. There was no tarnish, nor cracks in the man's aura. He stood there staring at the wall in simple clothes, somewhat dressed down from the last time they had encountered him. He wore a simple traveling cloak over collared shirt and plain casual black pants. Of course never absent was the seal of the supreme chancellor embroidered into the black and red cloak. He waited for them to enter, he knew they were tired, he knew their night and early morning had been a long one. They had been busy.
He took a long breath in through his nose, his hands were folded behind his back, visible to all in the room, a ring ordained his right ring finger, a simple gold with runes etched into it, he closed his palm a bit hiding the nature of the runes, as pointless as that might be given the fact that the cat had been let out of the bag so to speak. There were things that still needed to be left unsaid, stones that needed to lay untouched for the time being anyway. They had questions.
They had a great deal of questions.
He of course was willing to answer them in time, the time was drawing near when all that was to be revealed would be revealed and his plan would continue. So many years it had been since he had been at their temple as a young man, so many years had come and passed, so many lives changed, so many storms weathered, and so much blood had been spilled to afford him this moment. This singular moment in the passage of time that was his to share with these brave protectors of the peace in the galaxy. What an honor it should be for him to host them, to have them in his presence and allow them to be a part of his plans. The glory and honor of the Republic was at stake and this was a test of wills, a test of morality. What was right and what was wrong.
Oh did he know something about right and wrong. All those visions of his childhood that had tortured him for so money years, the blood as he used to call it, back when everything was dirty as he saw it. The cleaning process itself was dirty at first, but it had become more refined over the years and had gotten to the point where it had been cleaner. Everything had been made cleaner and soon all would be clean, no dirt would remain, the cleansing fires of....
He spun on his heal in a refined and practiced manner and bowed respectfully to the Jedi as they were escorted in.
"Good morning my friends, rest well? You look exhausted. I'm terribly sorry, the quarters were inadequate I take it?"
He offered them a warm and comforting smile, the smile of a man whose empathy was obvious, a smile that said his soul thrived on caring for others in their time of pain.
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
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Erril Winterhold
- Posts: 76
- Joined: Wed Jan 01, 2020 7:22 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
Emerging from the hallway into the throne room, Erril let the sites and sounds of the place wash over him, absorbing them into his understanding. Objectivity gave him a place to stand in times like this, and so he embraced the whole experience. The lighting of the room, the unmistakable symbol on the floor that puffed it’s chest out in open mockery of the symbols on the flags. The subtle way the room angled attention toward the desk and away from the entrance, as well as the door off to one side. The many statues whose gaze loomed over the chamber and all it held like the omniscient eye of time itself – unwavering, uncaring. They were being watched. And not only by statues, but by – Erril counted discrete heartbeats without bothering to look back – ten guards, each undoubtedly in the crimson red of the Chancellor’s elite guard. Warriors of the Sith Eternal.
The music was calm, but that only made the air feel more restless to Erril as he strode deeper into the heart of Darkness. A room filled with men and women of action, all standing on ceremony like some bare contrivance of humor that was punctuated by the silky, swaying tones of piano keys that had been stroked with tender attention in some place far away from here, intended for any setting but the one they currently illuminated. Erril’s steel eyes fell on the cart that had been wheeled behind the Chancellor’s desk and which held his attention at the moment they entered. It was set with an array of undoubtedly the finest beverages money could buy. They were a sham, unworthy to hold company with the humble cups of tea and water which Erril and his family had recently enjoyed together on the hill of such a great and small victory.
The memory of tea and laughter stirred deeper chords within the elder Jedi’s soul, and he allowed some essence of the reassuring peace they brought him to seep along the currents of the Force to the companions flanking him. They were four. The Force was their ally.
The Jedi Master came to a stop when the Chancellor bowed in greeting, and returned the gesture in kind over the comfortable distance, bending slightly at the waist with his hands at his sides. He did not, however, bow his head to Samja, an omission which robbed the gesture of a considerable amount of its dignity, and rendered it a far more exacting expression – for a bare moment, possibly even… predatory.
A right-handed smile drew Erril’s face off balance as he acknowledged Samja’s comment. His tone was almost magnanimous when his lips parted to reply.
”Tch, hardly. The accommodations were most hospitable. It’s only… well, I’m sure you know better than most how the concerns of the moment pale against the uncertainty of the future. Or the past.”
The music was calm, but that only made the air feel more restless to Erril as he strode deeper into the heart of Darkness. A room filled with men and women of action, all standing on ceremony like some bare contrivance of humor that was punctuated by the silky, swaying tones of piano keys that had been stroked with tender attention in some place far away from here, intended for any setting but the one they currently illuminated. Erril’s steel eyes fell on the cart that had been wheeled behind the Chancellor’s desk and which held his attention at the moment they entered. It was set with an array of undoubtedly the finest beverages money could buy. They were a sham, unworthy to hold company with the humble cups of tea and water which Erril and his family had recently enjoyed together on the hill of such a great and small victory.
The memory of tea and laughter stirred deeper chords within the elder Jedi’s soul, and he allowed some essence of the reassuring peace they brought him to seep along the currents of the Force to the companions flanking him. They were four. The Force was their ally.
The Jedi Master came to a stop when the Chancellor bowed in greeting, and returned the gesture in kind over the comfortable distance, bending slightly at the waist with his hands at his sides. He did not, however, bow his head to Samja, an omission which robbed the gesture of a considerable amount of its dignity, and rendered it a far more exacting expression – for a bare moment, possibly even… predatory.
A right-handed smile drew Erril’s face off balance as he acknowledged Samja’s comment. His tone was almost magnanimous when his lips parted to reply.
”Tch, hardly. The accommodations were most hospitable. It’s only… well, I’m sure you know better than most how the concerns of the moment pale against the uncertainty of the future. Or the past.”
The Force is my ally, in the quiet times and the trials. The Force is my ally. I will not falter.
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
Erril had bowed to him, but not fully, it might as well have been an insult, but it was not insulting to him. It was amusing. A smirk formed on Johnathon's face and he let out slight chuckle at the situation. He focused only on Erril at this point, he was their leader, he was the man that would need the majority of his attention. His eyes acknowledged two of the others, skipping over the pinkish man entirely and pausing on Ashlin for the briefest of moments before they returned their full attention back to Master Erril Winterhold. What a name, what a title, to be the Grandmaster of the Jedi order was an accomplishment, one that did not pale in comparison to Johnathon's own personal accomplishments.
"There is no doubt my friend."
He stopped, and seemed to correct himself in a fluidly rehearsed manner.
"Excuse me, Master Winterhold. The past, present, and future must be most uncertain for you."
He gave the Jedi a smile and walked quietly over to the beverage cart behind his desk. Upon the cart sat a tea kettle along with a coffee pot and several ornate mugs bearing the seal of the supreme chancellor. He quietly poured himself a mug of pitch black coffee, before subtly turning the others.
"Forgive my manners, coffee or tea anyone? You may help yourselves to the breakfast items momentarily."
The steam rose quietly from his own cup as he brought it to his mouth and sipped on it’s bitter black beauty, the aroma filled his nose and he smiled a smile of supreme satisfaction, before wheeling the cart to his most honored guests. It was clear that they were free to help themselves and there was no implied need to wait, everything was there for the taking. Everything had been laid out for them, all they had to do was simply accept his hospitality.
"Master Winterhold, it might be of particular interest to you to know that I have been studying a vast array of ancient philosophy as of late."
He brought the hot beverage to his mouth and the steam rose under his eyes as he smiled again. His eyes seemed to stare directly through the Jedi Master, piercing to gaze upon his soul.
"One piece that I think will be of great interest to you in particular claims that the deepest circles of perdition are reserved for those who remain neutral in times of moral crisis."
He moved slowly, but deliberately over directly to Erril and held up his mug of pitch black coffee, offering it to the Jedi Master.
"Drink from my cup, you might as well. You're no different than me."
He extended the cup closer to Erril, the bubbles of the dark liquid still present as the tantalizing aroma made it’s way towards Erril’s nostrils. Bubbles began to pop as they do, one at a time, as if the breath of the Jedi Master was snuffing them out, his very existence terminating the brief life of a bubble with every passing moment.
"In fact..."
His tone turned deeper and more serious, gone was the formality of his political voice and what emerged was that of a man, just like any other, just like Erril.
"You're far worse."
"There is no doubt my friend."
He stopped, and seemed to correct himself in a fluidly rehearsed manner.
"Excuse me, Master Winterhold. The past, present, and future must be most uncertain for you."
He gave the Jedi a smile and walked quietly over to the beverage cart behind his desk. Upon the cart sat a tea kettle along with a coffee pot and several ornate mugs bearing the seal of the supreme chancellor. He quietly poured himself a mug of pitch black coffee, before subtly turning the others.
"Forgive my manners, coffee or tea anyone? You may help yourselves to the breakfast items momentarily."
The steam rose quietly from his own cup as he brought it to his mouth and sipped on it’s bitter black beauty, the aroma filled his nose and he smiled a smile of supreme satisfaction, before wheeling the cart to his most honored guests. It was clear that they were free to help themselves and there was no implied need to wait, everything was there for the taking. Everything had been laid out for them, all they had to do was simply accept his hospitality.
"Master Winterhold, it might be of particular interest to you to know that I have been studying a vast array of ancient philosophy as of late."
He brought the hot beverage to his mouth and the steam rose under his eyes as he smiled again. His eyes seemed to stare directly through the Jedi Master, piercing to gaze upon his soul.
"One piece that I think will be of great interest to you in particular claims that the deepest circles of perdition are reserved for those who remain neutral in times of moral crisis."
He moved slowly, but deliberately over directly to Erril and held up his mug of pitch black coffee, offering it to the Jedi Master.
"Drink from my cup, you might as well. You're no different than me."
He extended the cup closer to Erril, the bubbles of the dark liquid still present as the tantalizing aroma made it’s way towards Erril’s nostrils. Bubbles began to pop as they do, one at a time, as if the breath of the Jedi Master was snuffing them out, his very existence terminating the brief life of a bubble with every passing moment.
"In fact..."
His tone turned deeper and more serious, gone was the formality of his political voice and what emerged was that of a man, just like any other, just like Erril.
"You're far worse."
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
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Erril Winterhold
- Posts: 76
- Joined: Wed Jan 01, 2020 7:22 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
"Excuse me, Master Winterhold. The past, present, and future must be most uncertain for you."
The right-hand corner of Erril’s smile tugged a little more as he followed the Chancellor’s movements. There it was, that slight tone of hubris. Many politicians possessed concealed that slight assumption of manifest-destiny, but Erril had met few Sith who didn’t. Of course the Chancellor would have them believe time was no mystery to him. How could it be when he was a seer?
Even so, Erril studied Samja carefully as he moved, as he spoke. He felt as though he could practically feel the chancellor’s intrigue scanning across the room as they moved; feel the vapors as they traced up his features; feel his eyes as they pierced at Erril’s own. Knowing. There wasn’t the curiosity he might have expected from someone sizing up an enemy or even an ally. There was a certainty there. A fighter who felt confident against his opponent; a tactician certain of his play; a man who’d done his research. Erril suspected he could fill in the gaps in his knowledge of Samja with logic and experience, but what did the chancellor think he knew about Erril?
Samja came closer. Philosophy. Moral Crisis. Men of Action.
True enough, they were both men of action. Erril had never been one to sit idly by in troubling times, and clearly Samja felt similarly. At a bare glance, perhaps they were similar.
The chancellor approached, and offered Erril his cup.
Drink with me. Admit that we are the same.
As the man who had once been a Jedi came close, and practically pressed the coffee to Erril’s lips, the vapors crawled up his face in earnest. Through the aroma, through the vapor, through the façade, Erril and his enemy studied each other, and for a single moment, the Jedi’s ears heard the truth. Not in the words but in what they implied. The elder Jedi tilted his snowy head only slightly, perhaps for the very first time truly fascinated by Samja’s attention to detail.
So that’s what you know about me. Impressive.
Erril closed his eyes, taking in his other senses for a moment as the game of intrigue took the next step forward. The fanciful posturing was going according to pace, while the truths remained comfortably unspoken. His awareness resolved in a span of a couple heartbeats on the vapors tracing up his angular face. He raised a hand and made an inviting gesture at his side, causing a slight stir in the air that directed the aroma precisely where he could sense it to the fullest. His mind processed the notes, the weights, the afterthought, and recalled what had been his privately diligent study in decades past. A desire for knowledge inspired by respect for another. Such irony that it should apply now.
The Jedi’s steel grey eyes revealed themselves once more to Samja, and he quirked an eyebrow pleasantly. ”Hmm… Onderoni, light roast. Southern Isles?”
Erril cast a glance at the chancellor almost hesitantly – his hand slowly edged toward the offered cup… Then fell away, and the Jedi stepped lithely around Samja, crossing the distance casually to the proffered cart.
”I’m afraid we’re not as similar as you might hope, Samja. You see I can’t really bring myself to drink coffee when there’s tea available. Nor have I, for all that I’ve tried, been able to make a deep or un-entangled study of philosophy. I’ve always found my steps more surely guided by a study of history. So many lessons there…”
Erril paused for a moment to pour hot water into a cup and study the teas on the cart. They were all of equally high quality, and none of them less expensive than the coffee on which the Supreme Chancellor presently sipped and based abstractions. He selected a few ingredients he’d missed in the past years, and dropped them into the cup to steep.
”Of course as a mindful Jedi my attention is often drawn to the era of the Clone Wars. A time in our history replete with men of action, in truth, and condemning of so many who stood by and watched or… worse.”
The Jedi turned back with the hot cup in his hand, arms crossed as casually as if he’d stood in his own kitchen talking to a friend. But the indictment was clear in his gaze as it fell back onto Samja.
The right-hand corner of Erril’s smile tugged a little more as he followed the Chancellor’s movements. There it was, that slight tone of hubris. Many politicians possessed concealed that slight assumption of manifest-destiny, but Erril had met few Sith who didn’t. Of course the Chancellor would have them believe time was no mystery to him. How could it be when he was a seer?
Even so, Erril studied Samja carefully as he moved, as he spoke. He felt as though he could practically feel the chancellor’s intrigue scanning across the room as they moved; feel the vapors as they traced up his features; feel his eyes as they pierced at Erril’s own. Knowing. There wasn’t the curiosity he might have expected from someone sizing up an enemy or even an ally. There was a certainty there. A fighter who felt confident against his opponent; a tactician certain of his play; a man who’d done his research. Erril suspected he could fill in the gaps in his knowledge of Samja with logic and experience, but what did the chancellor think he knew about Erril?
Samja came closer. Philosophy. Moral Crisis. Men of Action.
True enough, they were both men of action. Erril had never been one to sit idly by in troubling times, and clearly Samja felt similarly. At a bare glance, perhaps they were similar.
The chancellor approached, and offered Erril his cup.
Drink with me. Admit that we are the same.
As the man who had once been a Jedi came close, and practically pressed the coffee to Erril’s lips, the vapors crawled up his face in earnest. Through the aroma, through the vapor, through the façade, Erril and his enemy studied each other, and for a single moment, the Jedi’s ears heard the truth. Not in the words but in what they implied. The elder Jedi tilted his snowy head only slightly, perhaps for the very first time truly fascinated by Samja’s attention to detail.
So that’s what you know about me. Impressive.
Erril closed his eyes, taking in his other senses for a moment as the game of intrigue took the next step forward. The fanciful posturing was going according to pace, while the truths remained comfortably unspoken. His awareness resolved in a span of a couple heartbeats on the vapors tracing up his angular face. He raised a hand and made an inviting gesture at his side, causing a slight stir in the air that directed the aroma precisely where he could sense it to the fullest. His mind processed the notes, the weights, the afterthought, and recalled what had been his privately diligent study in decades past. A desire for knowledge inspired by respect for another. Such irony that it should apply now.
The Jedi’s steel grey eyes revealed themselves once more to Samja, and he quirked an eyebrow pleasantly. ”Hmm… Onderoni, light roast. Southern Isles?”
Erril cast a glance at the chancellor almost hesitantly – his hand slowly edged toward the offered cup… Then fell away, and the Jedi stepped lithely around Samja, crossing the distance casually to the proffered cart.
”I’m afraid we’re not as similar as you might hope, Samja. You see I can’t really bring myself to drink coffee when there’s tea available. Nor have I, for all that I’ve tried, been able to make a deep or un-entangled study of philosophy. I’ve always found my steps more surely guided by a study of history. So many lessons there…”
Erril paused for a moment to pour hot water into a cup and study the teas on the cart. They were all of equally high quality, and none of them less expensive than the coffee on which the Supreme Chancellor presently sipped and based abstractions. He selected a few ingredients he’d missed in the past years, and dropped them into the cup to steep.
”Of course as a mindful Jedi my attention is often drawn to the era of the Clone Wars. A time in our history replete with men of action, in truth, and condemning of so many who stood by and watched or… worse.”
The Jedi turned back with the hot cup in his hand, arms crossed as casually as if he’d stood in his own kitchen talking to a friend. But the indictment was clear in his gaze as it fell back onto Samja.
The Force is my ally, in the quiet times and the trials. The Force is my ally. I will not falter.
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Johnathon Lynd
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 6:41 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
As Erril brought up the origin of the coffee, a small grin appeared on the Chancellor's face as the Jedi Master stepped around him. Surprise was not something that Johnathon was accustomed to feeling, it was an odd sensation that he had only experienced a handful of times in his life. Yet here Master Erril Winterhold of the Jedi order had surprised him. He knew his guest as a tea drinker and knew that he would turn down his offer for coffee, if for no other reason, of which there where a plethora, than the simple fact that he preferred coffee over tea. What he did not anticipate and what brought that twinge of surprise, that rare taste that he had been deprived of since brith was that Erril could identify the beans by scent alone. He slowly turned to watch the half-Sephi Jedi.
"You know your coffee Master Winterhold, you know it well. So you must know the controversy surrounding this particular batch."
HIs smile widened, his tone remaining just as serious as it had been a moment ago as he took a long sip from his coffee.
"The slavers, child labor, murder, all because these beans are so desired. The slavers no longer exist, the child labor is a thing of the past. We have seen to that and whats more, we have subsidized the farmers so that they can operate freely and pay a living wage to all whom they employ. You see, often times luxuries are savored with the blood sweat and tears of the less fortunate, but not anymore. Not in my....in our Republic."
His eyes shifted to Ashlin for a moment.
(Justice)
A simple whisper sent to her through the force, so quiet she may not have heard it, but sent directly towards her conscious mind like a dart. His gaze returned to Erril and now was time for the Clone Wars, he had taken the thought in, this reply was so simple, but so meaningful that he must tread carefully. He had felt the indictment of the Jedi, he had felt its situationally ignorant stab miss him entirely like a blind swordsmen jabbing for the target. To give credit though, Erril was not blind his thought was not entirely off the mark, he was just unaware of the gifts that had been given to him.
"Yes, the Clone Wars. What is it that they say about History Master Winterhold? It does not repeat, it rhymes? Something of that ilk I am sure. You must find it fascinating then standing here in this parallel as it were."
He lowered his brow and met everyone's eyes in the room except for Julian's as he scanned over him.
"Something is different though, something is decidedly different. You're all still breathing. It would have been a matter of child's play for me to repeat the order given by Chancellor Palpatine and eliminate all that remained of the Jedi Order, present company included. If I am the bad guy, if I am the great and evil one that must be destroyed at all costs, why would I leave some of the only individuals in the universe best suited for the task alive? I am letting you walk around this ship armed, despite the advice of my trusted and loyal guards. In fact, I've let you do whatever your want."
He paused to let that thought sink in, as a politician he was mindful of his words and the next thoughts were short, but once again as meaningful as he could make them.
"Jedi and Sith, long ago we were two brothers. Two brothers with a different philosophy, at the time a minor disagreement that formed a massive divide. We have since spent the last millinea killing each other at all costs. Aren't we stronger together, united? Must the coin keep flipping? Must we keep fighting for power? I am offering to share power with you, so that we can make this universe the place we both want it to be. So that we can be together as one order as it was always meant to be."
"You know your coffee Master Winterhold, you know it well. So you must know the controversy surrounding this particular batch."
HIs smile widened, his tone remaining just as serious as it had been a moment ago as he took a long sip from his coffee.
"The slavers, child labor, murder, all because these beans are so desired. The slavers no longer exist, the child labor is a thing of the past. We have seen to that and whats more, we have subsidized the farmers so that they can operate freely and pay a living wage to all whom they employ. You see, often times luxuries are savored with the blood sweat and tears of the less fortunate, but not anymore. Not in my....in our Republic."
His eyes shifted to Ashlin for a moment.
(Justice)
A simple whisper sent to her through the force, so quiet she may not have heard it, but sent directly towards her conscious mind like a dart. His gaze returned to Erril and now was time for the Clone Wars, he had taken the thought in, this reply was so simple, but so meaningful that he must tread carefully. He had felt the indictment of the Jedi, he had felt its situationally ignorant stab miss him entirely like a blind swordsmen jabbing for the target. To give credit though, Erril was not blind his thought was not entirely off the mark, he was just unaware of the gifts that had been given to him.
"Yes, the Clone Wars. What is it that they say about History Master Winterhold? It does not repeat, it rhymes? Something of that ilk I am sure. You must find it fascinating then standing here in this parallel as it were."
He lowered his brow and met everyone's eyes in the room except for Julian's as he scanned over him.
"Something is different though, something is decidedly different. You're all still breathing. It would have been a matter of child's play for me to repeat the order given by Chancellor Palpatine and eliminate all that remained of the Jedi Order, present company included. If I am the bad guy, if I am the great and evil one that must be destroyed at all costs, why would I leave some of the only individuals in the universe best suited for the task alive? I am letting you walk around this ship armed, despite the advice of my trusted and loyal guards. In fact, I've let you do whatever your want."
He paused to let that thought sink in, as a politician he was mindful of his words and the next thoughts were short, but once again as meaningful as he could make them.
"Jedi and Sith, long ago we were two brothers. Two brothers with a different philosophy, at the time a minor disagreement that formed a massive divide. We have since spent the last millinea killing each other at all costs. Aren't we stronger together, united? Must the coin keep flipping? Must we keep fighting for power? I am offering to share power with you, so that we can make this universe the place we both want it to be. So that we can be together as one order as it was always meant to be."
"Peace is a utopian idea perpetuated by those who believe they can change things for what they perceive to be the better. Peace is a lie.
I believe in spreading that lie."
I believe in spreading that lie."
Re: The Grand Throne Room
Temperature - sound - scent - sight - voices.
Ashlin quietly took in the room Johnathon kept. The two columns of red-clad Troopers; with some symbol branded into each of their chest plates. The circle of hooded statues. The political trappings and emblems of the Republic itself at one end; the same crimson and black sigil which Ashlin had no name for at the other.
The shape of the sigil on the floor pricked vaguely in her mind. Someone had dealt with it… Kel, probably? There’d been Darksiders in her youth who shared uncomfortable imagery with her on certain encounters; toying with her reactions… But, those had been baser things. Not usually politics and formal imagery. If a stray fragment in her mind was old enough and Sith enough… That usually seemed to be ‘Kel’.
Here and now. There was the breakfast cart. The artful music. There was… Johnathon... She watched the pearlescent-pure White of the Chancellor's ‘aura’ in the Force again for as long as she could stand it without reacting — He was a bit overly bold about letting them sense him — showy, but there here was no flicker of a lie as best as she could sense. Not a crack.
The thin part-Sephi woman took a silent, steadying, breath in from her space just beside Julian, opposite Arty on his other side. She was stilll unarmed, in plain clothes, with a light brace on one forearm; still quietly carrying the helmet he'd worn. She ached more for the half-Zeltron than for anything or anyone else in the room now, but she wouldn't call attention to him in front of Johnathon and the troopers. Julian was Jedi. They all were. She trusted that between him and the Force, he'd be enough.
Erril was alone under Johnathon’s attention at first. The coffee scent grieved her in an abstract ‘insult to injury’ sense when she watched the Chancellor arrogantly push the mug up to Erril’s face… Whatever idea Johnathon was hinting at, he was tainting one more sensory memory while he did it… At least as far as Ashlin was concerned, and she assumed Erril. But it was a trivial insult compared to everything else. They were here. Erril was alright. It was what it was, and the Force was here with them.
(Justice.)
Her attention flicked protectively back to Julian when Johnathon’s stare crossed directly over them for the second time. But he’d ‘skipped’ Julian (again?)… and caught stares with her directly. For the second time now.
'In fact, I've let you do whatever your want.'
She met the Sith’s stare with her calm one again until he moved on, then turned her eyes back to watching Erril.
Ashlin quietly took in the room Johnathon kept. The two columns of red-clad Troopers; with some symbol branded into each of their chest plates. The circle of hooded statues. The political trappings and emblems of the Republic itself at one end; the same crimson and black sigil which Ashlin had no name for at the other.
The shape of the sigil on the floor pricked vaguely in her mind. Someone had dealt with it… Kel, probably? There’d been Darksiders in her youth who shared uncomfortable imagery with her on certain encounters; toying with her reactions… But, those had been baser things. Not usually politics and formal imagery. If a stray fragment in her mind was old enough and Sith enough… That usually seemed to be ‘Kel’.
Here and now. There was the breakfast cart. The artful music. There was… Johnathon... She watched the pearlescent-pure White of the Chancellor's ‘aura’ in the Force again for as long as she could stand it without reacting — He was a bit overly bold about letting them sense him — showy, but there here was no flicker of a lie as best as she could sense. Not a crack.
The thin part-Sephi woman took a silent, steadying, breath in from her space just beside Julian, opposite Arty on his other side. She was stilll unarmed, in plain clothes, with a light brace on one forearm; still quietly carrying the helmet he'd worn. She ached more for the half-Zeltron than for anything or anyone else in the room now, but she wouldn't call attention to him in front of Johnathon and the troopers. Julian was Jedi. They all were. She trusted that between him and the Force, he'd be enough.
Erril was alone under Johnathon’s attention at first. The coffee scent grieved her in an abstract ‘insult to injury’ sense when she watched the Chancellor arrogantly push the mug up to Erril’s face… Whatever idea Johnathon was hinting at, he was tainting one more sensory memory while he did it… At least as far as Ashlin was concerned, and she assumed Erril. But it was a trivial insult compared to everything else. They were here. Erril was alright. It was what it was, and the Force was here with them.
(Justice.)
Her attention flicked protectively back to Julian when Johnathon’s stare crossed directly over them for the second time. But he’d ‘skipped’ Julian (again?)… and caught stares with her directly. For the second time now.
'In fact, I've let you do whatever your want.'
She met the Sith’s stare with her calm one again until he moved on, then turned her eyes back to watching Erril.
Don't let your lights go down. Don't let your fire burn out. Because somewhere, somebody needs a reason to believe.
Sometimes, it's still the smallest things that matter.
Sometimes, it's still the smallest things that matter.
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Julian Orspach
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2020 11:03 am
Re: The Grand Throne Room
Purple eyes were locked intently on his master, the young Jedi nodded with baited breath, but there were questions, so many questions. In time or now? He wasn't sure. He grabbed the back of his neck and thought for a moment.Mon Taran wrote:"Julian, a Jedi feels the force flow through him, he is one with his environment, he knows where he is and the intricacies of the moment."
He took a breath in and sighed, this was going to be a dumb question, so dumb. But Master Taran had no doubt heard dumb questions before right? Of course he had, he was a Jedi Master and on the council. His master was a Council Member, what an honor that was, he had to pinch himself when Master Taran had agreed to train him, it just wasn't real. His face was throbbing, a bruise under his left eye, another wound from another bout with Nomi, she was good but he was going to best her one day, onen day soon.Mon Taran wrote:"Speak your mind my friend."
"If I am one with my environment, how can I divide the attention equally like in a fight, between the environment and my oponent. Yesterday, Nomi did a really cool move off the wall and wound up behind me I turned and I got an elbow right in the face, like no time to react. It's like she splits it equally and I don't know how to do that."
The eleven year old Padawan chuckled at the last bit of what his Master's advice. He nodded intently and cracked his right index finger at the slightly nervous feeling he had about discussing his duel with Nomi. Why was he nervous that was never there before? Whatever, he'd figure that out later.Mon Taran wrote:*The Jedi Master Chuckled, his green eyes lighting up at the thought of two of the Temple's best young duelists beating each other to within an inch of their lives again. In truth, their duels were all more or less tame except when there was a broken nose or something of that ilk, but there were bigger problems.*
"She's not splitting her attention Julian, everything including you is part of the environment. Every step you take, every breath you take, is the same as the scenery of the battle. It is all one and she knows that, you two have been dueling all your lives, she knows how to read you. The battle could be taking place on a floating plank in the seas of Kamino and it would be no different, she knows how you will react in that scenery and you're learning how she will as well. The difference is she has put it together, you'll get there, remember she's a year older than you and has had a bit more training."
*The Elder Jedi paused.*
"Be one with your surroundings young Padawan...a Jedi knows when and how to react in most any situation, you'll never be perfect but it is not about being perfect, it is about being prepared...Oh....and as far as you and Nomi are concerned. Can you please not kill each other?"
"A Jedi Knows when to act....I'll remember that Master, all of it....and Nomi might be the one killing me, so you might have to talk to her about that..."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Jedi Knight blinked, his eyes narrowing at the Chancellor as he saw his former Master's gaze stop at Ashlin for a second. Oh no you kriffing don't. That was the only thought that surged through his mind, he knew what that stare could mean. He took a breath, he was here, in this room, he took in the surroundings, he reached out and felt the area, he knew where each of the guards was and what their reactions would be if something unexpected would happen. He knew were Johnathon was standing, he knew where he normally kept his lightsaber, and most of all he knew the moment. He knew his friends in the room and he knew what could happen to them if he acted, he felt his hand resting at his side, he felt the tingle of the force and telekenisis surging through his finger tips, His fingers wanted a lightsaber, his hand longed for the cold metal to rest against his pink palm and for the warmth of the blue blade to soothe him as he prepped for battle.
His eyes narrowed further until they were just purple slits burning a hole through the most evil man he had ever met, this was not okay. He was not going to let this happen...and he was being baited. He knew it.
He blinked. Nope, I'm going to be fooled that easily. The he scanned the room again for a second and he knew what the correct course of action was, he knew what he would do as a Jedi would. He didn't adjust his stare instead, he turned and took a few steps over and put himself between Johnathon and Ashlin. He squared his stance, Ashlin behind him now and continued staring at the Chancellor.Mon Taran wrote:"Julian, a Jedi feels the force flow through him, he is one with his environment, he knows where he is and the intricacies of the moment."
"You can do whatever you want to me, I simply do not care, but you will leave her out of your twisted nonsense or you and I can figure something else out."
"I'm just a Jedi."
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Arty Orspach
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Tue Jan 14, 2020 9:05 pm
Re: The Grand Throne Room
What was the word Derry used? That expletive? It was something that his older friend had called him on oh so many occasions, it just wasn't coming to mind. It would be so fitting now as the arrogant chancellor padded around the room like a cat toying with his prey. Where was a water bottle when he needed it? He had his lightsaber, in fact he had two lightsabers. Those would be most effective water bottles. What were the guards doing? Arty's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation around him intently, he had watched the guards from the moment he followed them in and he had took in every single breath, step, and any other movement they made. In truth he had sized them up earlier but there were more now and it would be interesting. Then there was this junior archivist who was apparently overtly lusting after Emperor Palpatine. What kind of a threat was he actually? Was he skilled with the blade or was he just boastful and overly dramatic for the point of being overly dramatic.
Di'kut!!! That's what it was. That was the kriffing word, this chancellor was that. What did it mean? Oh whatever, he was certainly whatever it meant and a few other adjectives. He taunted Ashlin after the strikingly civil albeit arrogant conversation with Erril trailed off for a moment. Okay maybe he wasn't outright taunting her, but he was in his own stupid way. Then he ignored Julian again. Of course he did, couldn't look him in the eye or acknowledge him.
WHAT WAS JULIAN DOING?!
Oh for fu.....
Calm....peace. Stay centered, you're not supposed to talk, you're not supposed to provoke. Is decapitation a provocation or is it more of de-escalation technique. What would the guards do if their chancellor was suddenly slightly shorter? Would they just be done? One of them had mixed feelings about Julian, he could feel it and certainly the Chancellor could too.
Stay grounded.
Stay.
Seriously.
Lightsaber.
NO!
He took a breath and his eyes shifted to Julian for a second but otherwise he did not move and he kept his thoughts as guarded as he could. No talking.
"Black with the smallest amount of cream, garçon."
Okay, maybe that wasn't saying nothing, but it was literally better than anything else he could say, plus it took the attention off the awkwardness of the situation and hopefully shifted it. Good job Orspach.
Di'kut!!! That's what it was. That was the kriffing word, this chancellor was that. What did it mean? Oh whatever, he was certainly whatever it meant and a few other adjectives. He taunted Ashlin after the strikingly civil albeit arrogant conversation with Erril trailed off for a moment. Okay maybe he wasn't outright taunting her, but he was in his own stupid way. Then he ignored Julian again. Of course he did, couldn't look him in the eye or acknowledge him.
WHAT WAS JULIAN DOING?!
Oh for fu.....
Calm....peace. Stay centered, you're not supposed to talk, you're not supposed to provoke. Is decapitation a provocation or is it more of de-escalation technique. What would the guards do if their chancellor was suddenly slightly shorter? Would they just be done? One of them had mixed feelings about Julian, he could feel it and certainly the Chancellor could too.
Stay grounded.
Stay.
Seriously.
Lightsaber.
NO!
He took a breath and his eyes shifted to Julian for a second but otherwise he did not move and he kept his thoughts as guarded as he could. No talking.
"Black with the smallest amount of cream, garçon."
Okay, maybe that wasn't saying nothing, but it was literally better than anything else he could say, plus it took the attention off the awkwardness of the situation and hopefully shifted it. Good job Orspach.