Log:The Sith: Audience

Kessa meets with the Sith about Iridonia

OOC Date: August 24, 2023 (Optional)
Location: Coruscant
Participants: Darth Omen, Tamsin Cas, Xavir Harcourt, Aryn Cortess, Kol Goren and Revererate as GM. Sith Empire

Reclining in her throne of obsidian, framed by the golden light focused there, Kessa had awaited the arrival of her most powerful servants. The fanned headdress of ebony casting long shadows like an inverse sunburst behind her. Expression his hidden, but the poison green of her irises glow from behind the eyelets of her face covering, sending a shimmer around the masque.

"Iridonia..." five syllables with the weight of a black hole contained. The voice low, but powerful - seeming to echo behind those gathered, "I want your opinions of the situation." the hissing at the back of her throat suggesting she already had ideas; but she sought to see what the others opined.

The temperature in the room seems to drain, breath puffing white from mouth and nose, a creaking sound that comes from one of the Empress's closed fists.

Darth Omen is present.

Standing to the far right of Kessa's position, the hulking robed figure remains motionless with his hands at his sides. His own face is wrapped in black cloth, with his own eyes covered by black lenses that do nothing to show the face of the man beneath the dark clothing. He observes, he makes no movements, save for the clear rising and falling of his barrel chest beneath his black robes.

Aryn Cortess has found a seat and claimed it, reclining back with a relaxed sigh. One leg lifts and crosses the other with a dark booted foot rocking slightly thereafter. The poised recline appears practiced, like a politician who has sit a number of meetings just like this. Gloved hands clasp upon her lap, and Aryn's posture suffers only for comfort.

"To speak true, I know little on the origins of this rebellion; what has been deemed appropriate for galactic media. Have special operations been deployed yet? And if so, what have they uncovered to the source of this demonstration. Violence always serves an agenda; whose are we seeing?"

For a wonder, Achlys came into the chamber sans helm. Not something she often did in any sort of company, ally or Sith, even when in the relative (with Sith all things were relative) safety of the Temple. The chill, should it have extended far enough from where the Empress sat to where the Sith were gathering did not appear to be of much concern to her. Nearly two decades partnered with Kuolo did have the tendency to make one immune.

"It is not a situation easily remedied. If we snuff out this one rising rebellion, we risk making them martyrs for their cause. And yet, if we do nothing, and allow this to fester, we risk appearing weak to our allies, and possibly provoking others to attempt to ferment their own rebellion against the Empire's rule." Achlys spoke, and then sat, as if the order mattered. Which it likely did not. She spoke again, once she had gathered her robes around her, "This is certainly a time for cunning, not for brute force." Beat, "If it can achieve the right ends."

The robed figure of Darth Revant stands among the others in front of the Empress' throne. As much as he is prone to spurning the rules of propriety in favor of his own vices, the man is not smoking. In fact, one might conclude his is being on his best behavior today. Perhaps years of being in this game again have simmered him down a bit. Or maybe he's just too damn old to be launching a coup in the heart of the Empire.

"I've not ventured there myself," Revant offers rather unhelpfully. "I had assumed our current forces there could handle some petty insurrection. Sounds as though I was wrong. Whispers speak of bolstering Rebellion sympathies across the galaxy. If allowed to continue, we cut off our own legs." He nods briefly towards Achlys. "They'll weaponize martyrs. What we should do is find the source--" he gestures to Aryn's suggestion "--then destroy them from the inside. Make their efforts crumble and prove how futile it is. A fine example."

"My thoughts... Achlys. It feels as if they are seeking to create a rallying point. The riots. The assault on constable forces. I perceive, too, they want me to escalate." a clicking of drumming nails on volcanic glass. Gaze sweeping from one to the other, never lingering as she address, the same as when she'd listened.

"I want them to crumble, infighting if we can. But I want them to be seen as, ultimately, incompetent. Unable to sustain themselves." the seething viridian glare resting on Xavier like a blanket of stinging nettles, "I want these whispers cut off. I want a plan of action and I want it carried out."

Her headdress shifts as her lips purse and jaw works, "Tell me how you feel we should proceed."

Testing? Pooling?

Omen simply resides silently in the corner of the chamber, an ever present mountain of dark robes, the fringes tattered and worn, in need of replacement, but those who spend time around the hulk of a figure know that he's not really one for wardrobe advice. His hands remain at his sides, gloved in black leather, not in fists, not moving. He watches those who have gathered here, however, his covered face aimed directly upon them as his student, the Empress, addresses them for their counsel.

"Why is it the Empire must find a solution to this quandary? The more the Empire is drawn to this slippery slope, the more it becomes the focus of media, the focus of escalation, and serves as the shining martyrdom they want it to be. The onus should be upon the local government to sort its own problems out." Aryn says after a heavy sigh and slow shake of her head.

"Iridonians are well known, as a culture, for harboring warriors, and handling their own affairs. Let them, and give them a directive to do so. Reward progress, and punish ineptness. If you are to build a society that respects the Empire, it begins by allowing them to sort out their own issues. This does two things for you: the first being it draws the Empire's focus away from the heart of the conflict and allows you to focus more on the big picture and see who is /really/ pulling the strings here; secondly, it instills confidence with other worlds that the Empire is not so eager to step in on their affairs, and gives them the tools they need, even if it is a bit of space, to sort out their .. challenges."

Gesturing toward Achlys, Aryn says, "Darth Achlys spoke of a need for cunning. This would set the stage for such."

"The solution does not need to come in the form of the openly drawn weapon," Achlys offered, after allowing the others here gathered to speak. "A suitably covert action, such as has been suggested could, if nothing else, push the people of that planet towards finding their own solution. A tool is never so useful as when it does not know it is being used. And if they seem unable to find the roots so that they can tear them out, the possibility exists that we could discover it for them and simply pass it along. Judge their ability to govern themselves by the manner in which they police themselves. Whether that would be possible or not...well, unlike some worlds, Iridonia did not come willingly into the Empire."

He could go for a smoke. These kinds of meetings always flare up Xavier's oral fixation and need to slowing choke himself with toxins. Maybe later when this meeting is done and he has a task to do. Because surely he will be leaving here with a task to do. Kessa's direct command catches Revant looking over at the hulking and unmoving form of Omen, and he does nothing to hide the slight arch of a brow in the stranger's direction. It's like seeing the boogeyman in person. The infamous Omen himself -- a person he was fairly sure was a myth.

Hey, maybe he is. A very intimidating mannequin.

"In regads to letting the Iridonians resolve their own internal affairs, it has been my experience that governments are rather inept at this. Even warrior ones. The consensus will sway where the power flows and if these insurgents are allowed to run amok unanswered, well. Harded to stop a boulder once it's picked up speed, mm? I see no harm in nudging that boulder in the direction we want it to roll then letting them do the rest. The masses needn't know the Empire did it. But they absolutely -should- know that it has our attention. As soon as these planets feel we are no longer watching them, they will start to strray like wayward mutts."

For his part the tall figure in the black plates of a Death Trooper's armor remains a fixture of the wall shadowed wall. A faint, almost sickly green glow emanates from the pair of image intensifying active pulse emitters affixed to the bottom-front of the the Death Trooper's helmet. Given the most august company occupying the chamber or barring the sheer awesome power present; the presence of one of the Sith Empire's own commandoes, deep cover operatives, and many other untold duties is something of a redundancy in terms of security.

Yet now the modified trooper known simply at DT-X10 or sometimes less formally as X10, stands vigil facing inward, yet still standing near the turbolift - but not so close as to impede what are surely the Empresses' guardsmen.

The shadowy environment is ideal for Goren however, as he stands there with his carbine held smartly across his chest. While few eyes are likely to observe him, the Death Trooper seems to conduct himself with the rigid formality of someone prepared to perform above expectations. Even if those expectations are creating an environment of suitable pomp and dread.

"Do nothing. Work from within. Nudge them..."

Kessa leans back in her seat, fingers splaying over the arm rests of her throne. Deep tan skin somehow seeming brighter than the golden light that shines down upon the Empress. Bathing her in radiance that some cultures might compare to that heaped on the divine.

"Stormtroopers are already in the capital, with armor support. We cannot withdraw them, without it looking a route or retreat." one finger lifts, motioning towards the Morellian, "Revant, Achlys... tip the boulder the way we want it to tumble, then you go. If you feel they can serve, then make the Death Troopers of service." fingers of both hands curling as if to grip the obsidian, "If we must acquire forces to act in our stead, acquire them."

Her gaze swinging to Aryn, "Kalus... Make use of the Rists."

Darth Omen shifts, moving from his corner to the other side of the room. He walks silently behind the Empress, his masked face fixed on those present as he passes through the sunlight behind Kessa, causing rays of the light to be broken by his shadowy form. Taking up a mirrored stance on the opposite side, he continues his watch over the chamber, his gaze unyielding and vigilant as he stares at those gathered here this evening.

"I will speak with the Lady Livia about the deployment of Rist assassins. Should they discover the source of these disruptions, they will strike." Aryn replies, her voice and tone speaking with ease. She addresses the other Lords in the room, "and should our Sith Lords discover names or other plots, I ask that they share them. None of you are smarter than /all/ of us. We should act united on this, demonstrate no weakness."

"As you say, Empress." Achlys only inclined her head, as she was given her marching orders, sparing a glance at Revant that held the slightest bit of amusement. 'Back in the saddle again,' it seemed to say. Just like old times. "We will uncover the roots, and share what information we find with you, Kallus." Certainly if there was infighting amongst the Sith, it was not coming from this one. She did spare a glance for Darth Omen, but made no attempt to engage the Sith Lord.

Revent, bereft of mask and cig, tilts his head up as he is addressed by moniker, having been molded quite well over the years to fit into it snuggly. "Warriors do not follow weak leaders. Taint the leaders, crumble the efforts. We can root out the names of those heading the insurrection efforts." He cannot help -- nor tries to help -- watching Omen move from one side of the dias to the other. It's a predator watching a predator and there's little more intriguing to Xavier in this life than a mystery.

"Nudge the boulder. Can sow some seeds of disent. I think many of these governments have forgotten of Mon Cala's fate. A planet so out-matched, they blew themselves up rather than surrender." Does anyone believe that? Debatable, but he does love saying it with a grin. A glance is paid to Achlys in turn. Yeah, just like old times. And to Kalus, as well, a nod of agreement. "We'll pass along what is found here and thensome. A bit of chaos can bring its own kind of order, Your Highness."

The last part was to Kessa herself.

The mention of the Death Troopers, of which DT-X10 would be included, does not earn any acknowledgment or answer. There is no smarmy 'as you wish, my empress!' or other ingratiating remark to be made from the Death Trooper. For his part Goren simply remains rigid and anchored. He does not patrol or move about, but instead seems to trust in his ability to escape notice against the darkened wall. Neither does he step forward with his own thoughts, strategic or personal. When his opinions are sought after, they'll be asked of him.

Until that time, X10 remains silent and attentive. He observes planning session among the Sith Lords, but in the same instance he monitors the entirety of the chamber. Whether it is moving or unmoving, his helmet makes only the slightest movements to orient his helmet's goggled lenses toward one angle or another that he may long consider his surroundings and that which dwells within it.

"Order is paramount. I want no martyrs. I want no name or face to be hoisted as a banner."

The looming presence of the entity of Omen seeming to only embolden Kessa when his movements creates the umbral curtain briefly flowing around her. Her head leans towards one shoulder and her robes almost seem to flow like water stirred by soft breeze to ripple around her and over the arms of her throne.

"I am opening coffers for subversive action. Something for the local 'magistrates' to utilize. If we feel that we must not be seen as actively crushing this... we use their own heroes against them. If they can be swayed by coin to serve our ends."

The creak is perceptible, if only an illusion birthed of the steady slowness of the Empress's motion when she leans forward, enough to take her back from the unpadded rest behind it.

"Make them afraid of themselves, so they seek My Empire for succor... Do not fail me."

Viridian glare sweeping again, to each present save Omen before she rests back again. An invitation to be dismissed, or to risk voicing opinion or suggestion.

Darth Omen's massive arms rise, folding across his chest in a motion that oozes both power and quiet confidence. His attention shifts, his masked gaze transitioning from the individuals conversing before the Empress to the Empress herself, a fraction of a moment's focus on her before his attention returns to the assembly once more.

Without words, he is not here to issue commands, he is here to simply watch over the preceedings, and to ensure the Empress conveys her intentions concerining Iridonia.

"My thanks," Aryn says in response to the other Sith Lords.

Aryn rises from her seat then dips down into a practiced bow. The effort sees her dipping slightly lower than she would for anyone else. It's a deliberate show of difference to the Empress, and when she rises, her cape settles behind her. "Be well, your grace. I appreciate this opportunity to serve." A curt nod follows the statement, and the blonde royal pivots casually and begins to walk away, her hands rising to usher her hair back so it hung stylishly over her shoulders and down her back. The distinct 'clip-clop- of her heeled boots resonates against the flooring until she is out of earshot and deep within an adjacent corridor heading toward the hangar, and the awaiting pleasure yacht prepped to ferry her back to Alderaan.

Achlys as well, rose once it was clear that the audience was over, offering a nod to Revant, before she dipped her head in turn to Kess and Omen. "We will see it done." And that was all. This was not the time for idle conversations, and Achlys had already sensed the presence of a familiar compatriot. So, she turned, and made her way towards the exit, "X10. With me, if you would." As this particular trooper was her usual escort, the call had something of a 'same as it ever was' air to it as the Sith departed.

Darth Achlys voices her instruction to DT-X10. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Only when she is nearly upon his position near the turbolift doors does the trooper begin to move. The carbine held across his chest lowers and its barrel directs itself toward the dark floor, angled away from himself and any potential organics. He wordlessly falls into step alongside Achlys with the sound and pace of steady bootfalls announcing his own departure. Surely the soles of his armor's boots didn't have their sound dampeners activated. Such a thing could potentially be misconstrued in a chamber such as this.

Revant, never one to linger on ceremony, offers a mischievious grin to the Empress as he pivots on the ball of his foot and turns to leave with the others. No sooner has he turned and taken a few steps away that a flick of flame and a puff of smoke is lingering in his wake. "I do love it when they kick the kouhun nest." It feels like it's been a while since he's had a good target to zero in on. Complacency is dull, afterall. Now to get some names.