Open Vahla Rising

[Gram Van Alasdaire]

OOC: Open to anyone, death disabled, maiming enabled. This is a thread concerning Gram’s decision to run for Representative in the Galactic Senate.​

Vahl Rising

Simplicity is a beauty unlike any other. Where a complex multifaceted ideal perplexes and incites analysis, simplicity delves to the source. Through simplicity, you can gain an understanding of that which is incomprehensible to most.

In the weeks prior to the official elections began on New Vahla, when all the bustle and chaos had frenzied almost without abatement, an old man came upon Castle Van Alasdaire.

It was a warm night, one of few during the breaks between glacial conditions brought on by oncoming blizzards and unstable terrain. The cavernous depths of stone and cobbled durasteel had served the family well for nearly five generations, yet now it seemed little more than a tomb. The main living areas were all but vacant - the owners of the property had given up their status and moved long ago. The servants quarters, meanwhile, were still well utilized - many an orphaned Vahla had found a place in the ancestral lineage - as per their customs.

The hooded figure was escorted down into the castle through an abandoned mining shaft, connected directly to the Castle’s head room, wherein a taciturn Gram struggled to sleep. The figure graced a moment to enter the room and peer at the mystic as he lay in his bed.

By the half-light of a suspended lamp, dimmed and swinging in the figure’s hand, the awakened mystic could see a bulky male shape at his door, standing one step ahead of an armored guardsman. The cloaked being was a sorcerer’s shadow - a bald and sinewy visage, veiled in darkness, eyes like blazing embers.

“My, he looks so young for his age” wheezed the man, narrowly avoiding a fit of coughs. “Time is short. He must be ready.”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

“He’s awake and listening to us. The Vahl in him.”

He chuckled. A ruthless and dry chuckle, devoid of happiness but rather grim implication.

“But we have need of slyness. And if he’s really the one who has chosen... well....”

Within the shadows of the cloak, the figure’s grin faded into nothingness, even as the cloak withdrew with a single swish, and the elder was gone.

*****

The wasteland tundra of Rhen Var was about to change forever.

Even as the jet black cylindrical ship descended from the Troposphere, bathing the silver-white tufts of snow in a teal half-glow, the denizens of New Vahla prepared. Where once the settlement had been bustling, it was now idle and still. Rows upon rows of mottled warriors stood fast, dividing the swarms of civilians as they silently watched on. Warriors clad in makeshift armor, with various colors to denote units and insignia for rank. Individuals continued to stream from their homes into the streets regardless of the cold, chattering with anxious breaths as the hiss of the durasteel landing pad began to descend. Entire families, everyone who was able was present in only the most formal of wear.

At the head of the assembly stood seven distinct groups. Foremost were an elite squad of crimson plate-clad Paladins, each wielding a paired vibrosword and halberd. Behind them sat an elder yet striking Vahla woman, amber eyes overlooking the denizens with calm stoicism. Clad in an elegant plumed burgundy and gold dress - Lady and representative of House Phoenix - holding the elected seat of power.

Adjacent to them were denizens masked and robes, with clothing seemingly crafted or scavenged from the local wildlife, or on-world trade. Precious few held blasters, nor vibro-weapons, instead simple wielding archaic swords and spears. This was House Espaa, the first settlers of Rhen Var and the most nomadic of families. Nobody stood at the head of their assembly, they all huddled together, respectfully silent but seemingly on edge, eyes looking about for signs of potential foul play.

Following was a group of blonde Vahla sporting sapphire blue and silver uniforms made of fine leathers. A group of five, from the father to the youngest daughter, stood still and rigid as stone. They turned in unison, waved in unison - a completely united front, regardless of age or caste. The Tempest Family, smallest of the houses of New Vahla. Their power was in their pure family line - whereas other families adopted where birth failed, the Tempests had maintained a direct genetic lineage. The worker caste hosted all of their wards, in keeping with New Vahla customs.

Lastly, though not least, was Gram. He stood with but a single Vahla at his side - though surrounded by Van Alasdaire guards. Adair, his uncle and Eileen’s father, stood in a simple red tunic and black fitted pants. For the mystic’s part, he was clad in a red double breasted uniform frock, with tan-lined black trousers, a pair of black boots, a belt and a crimson emblazoned kepi cap. He was here to formally declare his intention to represent Rhen Var on the Galactic Stage. Here, the assembled leaders of the major houses would vote on the future of New Vahla.

Gram knew full well he could count on House Tempest for support. They, alongside the adoption house of Coven, had already made it known in private their concern lay primarily on-planet. All three (Van Alasdaire, Tempest and Coven) were in agreement that joining the Galaxy as a whole was not only beneficial but necessary for their continual survival and independence. House Espaa and House Torobah (now arriving) were still up for debate. It was likely the Espaa would vote to continue independence and distance from the Republic and anything related to them. The Torobah didn’t live on Rhen Var, yet still held a place at this meeting due to their lineage and bloodline.

“So it begins.”

 

[Xol Zaa Fenn]

Xol never liked politics, but Gram Alasdaire was different. Instead of taking the Tognath's life on Bracca after Xol had even tried to vaporize him, Gram spared the aspiring merc's life and even asked to train the Tognath in how to kill Force users properly! Xol had never had so much respect for someone in his life since Akka, and though that relationship was much more romantic, he could consider Gram a brother in arms in the very least. A potentially very loaded brother who had access to even more credits.

Xol didn't like freezing cold planets either, but if this meant supporting the man who saved his life, then he'd be there. He arrived a little shortly after the Vahla did and landed on a separate landed pad as to not steal any of Gram's thunder with his sweet Firespray. It took the tognath a few minutes to get past all the robed people that had also come to greet Gram in a very professional manor while Xol was dressed in his bounty hunter garb, shivering like there was an earth quake going on.

When Gram approached, the Tognath gave him a solute and chuckled greatly. "Bakanu bai neu mi, Yanay Bo?" <Expect to see me, Honorable One?> He cooed. "Congradulations." He bowed his head respectfully towards Alasdaire.

 

[Gram Van Alasdaire]

"An outsider among us?"

"An outsider?"

"Tognath by the looks of him."

The mumurs had already begun. This was the future, whether they realized it or not. More like the Tognath would come, and some perhaps would not offer a choice between friendship or negotiation. Some might come with intent to conquer, and no matter how proud they may be, the Vahla were not a military nor a fighting force. They were merely civilians, who lived their daily lives as was mandated by the planet upon which they lived. An outsider might consider the kyber caverns a precious resource, or the ancient temples a location to plunder. But Rhen Var had been entrusted to the Vahla for safekeeping, not by force of arms. The ultimate testament to a Vahla's fortitude and endurance - to live on a planet who's climate was the opposite of their homeworld, Desare.

"Nothing yet is certain. I could be the representative, or another could rise and take the position."

Gram looked about him, to what scarce family remained, and forward to the crowds that consisted of the others. Divided once again, yet in a way divided always. The Tognath would be the second being to enter the black and red square footing of carpet that denoted his status. Chairs and a table was existent - carved out of ice, with chairs draped in wool cloths. They would be seated once all members of the gathering had taken their places, and the Lady Phoenix made known the nature of the meeting. It was slightly more nuanced than a simple representative.

Since the death of Alius Phoenix in the ancient days, none had taken claim to the title outside of Rhen Var. Nor had anyone acted as an ambassador for their people, considering what had occurred to the three previous holders of the title - all slain, brutally and without mercy. It was a position abdicated by all except direct blood kin, for fear of the curse surrounding it; for it was said that in the far past the Phoenix line was cursed for their failure to defend the sorceress Sselemann. The curse permeated their bloodline, but seemed to have fallen dormant so long as they remained passive. It was for that reason that the heir to House Phoenix and their current leader was not present - both had fallen terribly ill, and were expected to pass away in short order.

"Anybody with claim to a Vahla bloodline, or claim to the ancestral home of Rhen Var, may challenge my claim. It will be decided based off of the testimony given by those present. If the Houses agree to open our borders, and then proceed to agree to the terms of representation, you can congratulate me."

When the Torobah had completed their march, turned left face and stood in silence, the Lady Phoenix rose. Everyone, Gram included, stepped forward to the table and took their seats. The ice sculpture of a sun was that upon which the future would be decided.

"It has been some time since we have all formally gathered here. It is fitting, then, to list those present. The Espaa. The Van Alasdaire. The Tempests. The Torobah. The Covens. And finally myself. We are gathered here to address the looming threat of the AMS virus, and it's scourge upon our lands. Soon, perhaps, shall it be upon us. So too are we to address the resurgence of an ancestral enemy - The Sith."

The Lady Phoenix sat, and all began to unfurl their leather bags, emptying holopads and scraps of parchment onto the tables. Gram followed suit, turning to his Tognath ally. Succinctly and beneath his breath, the Vahla informed his friend of what was to happen.

"You are here as a bodyguard. Take the black cloak from the back of the chair, and this Holopad. Write down everything that happens which pertains to your job. You will be asked to speak to the assembly - I can translate for you, if you want. They'll understand either way. Be mindful of your thoughts and feelings here... we are all Force Sensitive, with varying degrees of experience-"

Popping his head up, he found the Lady Phoenix looking upon him with a mire of contempt. He simply frowned, showing he did not directly approve the breach of protocol but deemed it necessary. The slightest nod of ascent came in response as he was then asked to address the assembly.

"-Brothers, sister. A war is upon us. A war that ravages the Galaxy, a war that blights the living and cosmic nuances of that we hold most high. I believe we have sat idle for too long. Once, we roamed the Galaxy as peacekeepers, defenders, martyrs. I understand our hesitation. I understand our fear.

But the time for fear has passed. The Flame of the Phoenix shall rise, and with it, the end of the oncoming Darkness. For so long, this title has been one afforded to only a select few. But, the teachings of Venatus Phoenix are clear. We are all One in the spark of Life. We are ALL Phoenix, for it is no name. It is not a title. It is an ideal, and ideals do not die. Four thousand may fall by our side, and twenty five thousand by our right hands. Yet the ideal shall not perish. WE MUST EMBRACE THIS IDEAL."

"We must remember what made the Vahla the Vahla. We must remember the respect once gifted to us. We must remember those we strove to protect, no matter how they abandoned us. The Empire has returned, and their slavery is of the most cruel sort! To turn one's anger into a weapon, to poison the mind against their fellow man, too bereft in the Blackest of Hearts."

"Once, we saw such practice in our own kind. We know well the Curse of the Dark. We must resist. Here by my side sits but one of many wronged by the machinations of the servants of Evil. Each one of you has a story of their own. Why wait for them to come to us?"

@Charles

 

[Xol Zaa Fenn]

Xol did as instructed, gladly putting the much warmer black coat around himself as he sat down to pay attention. Bodyguard sounded a bit...boring, but it would have to do for the time being.

The Tognath wasn't sure what to write down, however, so he simply paid attention and began processing the words being spoken. Xol had a gift that few had, that being photographic memory. Every sound, phrase, picture, book, picture-book, news article, blaster, explosive, starship, person- anything he could process with any of the five senses would be archived in his brain forever. So, he chose to just sit and listen.

Van Alasdaire's words stung Xol a bit as he began thinking about what the Sith had taken away from him. Akka- his only beloved, was murdered by those scarlet-blade wielding shitheads. Xol couldn't control his feelings as Gram had ushered him to and he felt the growing spark of anger fester inside him until it rattle the table he sat at with lightning that flicked from his own fingers.
At the sudden realization of what he had done, he paused, not embarrassed but...interested. It was subtle and the sparks probably would've only been seen by Gram, but the wrath in Xol's soul was definitely transmitted to the others in the room

The Scoundrel looked up at Gram apologetically- if the Vahla could even see his eyes past his lenses that allowed him to focus on his surroundings better. Then, he stood up himself to speak.

"Jee cohbanmah che mah dayan see kae- pankhai. Dobra wa lotka wata, an Jee cha nan wata bai woy ba kouocea doi kae see uba, pionpoe Meecooda tee sey Jee cha banag bai woy kae pateessa bap. Lhoca Nakiheuau Alasdaire doth bu ata bo see mee camai wata coo Jee hatkocanh maoue picheha mah nem che- goo pha bidwata catke cohka Jee dopo paknee ata bo. Bo danwohoba doth ciy um baiahau an Jee phaba da taneee wata caiot bauicaka jen du dokoi mo du kay. Mah cinph... doth da goo noa-a bu cahwapkeu cohauonka che mee camai. Jee gee tanee neu kaee cohou hee ji muna an babcey che twa camai cuee ai Lhoca gee. Goo doth tee ata dhoie biweoo bai babhat bu kenog dee Beh Kacmahea, um doth cuane woheh bai dokoi hoohah doptkee du bu kouwahe."

<I apologize for my lack of self-control. I am a guest here, and I did not come here to make an enemy out of any of you, though I can't say I don't want to make any friends either. Gram Van Alasdaire is the only one of your people here who I would actually lay down my life for- he saved mine after I tried taking his. His charity is pure but stern and I believe that no one here can match him in combat or in morals. My point...is that he would be the perfect spokesman for your people. I have never seen someone show such love and admiration for their people more than Gram has. He is not only brave enough to address the threat of the Sith Empire, but is fully committed to fighting them out in the open.>

The bounty hunter then realized that he forgot to leave his dual DE-10s on his ship, and if it weren't for his bulky coat, they'd be showing off to the public. But this realization wasn't just some sporadic thought- it was like his instincts were warning him that he might have needed to use those weapons. Someone here couldn't be trusts- but who?
He gave Gram a quick warning glance, quickly sitting down to reevaluate a bit.

He was still angry, but speaking up helped somewhat. The Sith were a huge threat and would stop at nothing until their hunger was satisified- which it never truly would be. They took the Tongath's dearest and would do the same to all of these people if it meant more power for them. If it meant keeping the galaxy in line under their control, they would eat the children of galaxy on the holonews for everyone to see.

Xol's next emotion was sorrow. He wished so deeply he could be with Akka- not out of lust or greed, but of loneliness. He felt empty and incomplete without her to the point where some nights he cried himself asleep. The best dreams were of him and her sitting in a field of tall grass doing nothing. Absolutely nothing, because there was nothing more that could be done to increase their happiness than when they were simply in one another's pressence.

Then, Xol woke up in cold sweats from the nightmares of Akka's death. That was why Xol had a reputation in Zaa Fenn for having a malicious temper and nature that made him so good at interrogation and combat of all sorts. His tenacity could only be rivaled by the Sith themselves- and though Xol resented that thought, he also wanted to end their Empire the way they ended his Akka. He didn't seek to rule them or revive the Sith- just to see their heads on spikes used to feed a Zillobeast like a fork.

Xol kept his head down, staring at the glacial table and empty notepad in front of him, wallowing in his own misery.

@Aurius

 

[Gram Van Alasdaire]

It's cold and practical union. at best.

The words echoed about Gram's head as he looked back at the Tognath. The entire assembly was as quiet as mice in a laden field, their piercing eyes turning to regard the outsider with a mixture of wonder, curiosity, and silent judgement. Even before he began to speak, Xol's heart revealed much of what the Vahla had been afraid of. Everyone in the room could tell that this being was brimming with anger at the mere mention of the Sith. Though some judged him for it, very few were threatened, simply concerned. The looks would change from wonder to almost disappointment, then back to more neutral gazes. The sheer reaction caused Gram to swivel, looking at the place the small spark of electricity had been. His eyebrow raised, eyes widening.

Oh. Something's not right.

"You would stand by him, even considering his past?"

The wistful question emanated from the lips of the elder Phoenix woman, looking headlong down the table at this point. Gram looked directly into here eyes with a flash of warning, but he could tell by the growing smile on her face that it was ammunition enough. The two of them had never seen eye to eye on these matters, and whether she realized it or not Gram had little doubt she was attempting to stop him. The mother didn't want her husband and son to die, just because of some upstart with a deathwish. It made sense, and it was dangerous, and Xol had never been informed of Gram's past. If the Tognath discovered the true reason for the Van Alasdaire's desire to teach him - it would end in blood. At least, presently, it very well might. Gram was intent on forging the warrior into a being capable of defending others against Sith.

He had no plans of turning him into a weapon. He would not do to Xol what the Sith had done to him, had stolen from him. And the very emotions the being put off as he spoke and afterwards filled the Vahla with a deep sense of concern. And now, at this moment, it seemed the Force was happy to condemn him.

"The traitor and the witch..."

The voice echoed from the distance, carried on the wind. A mist began to roll over the village, thick and deep, billowing with unnatural speeds to cover every centimeter in a thick fog. The gathering began to rise from their seats in concern, guards rose in unison, swords sung from their sheaths and blasters primed. And then, nothing. For a minute, everything and everyone was still, weapons trained on each other. Gram had risen from his seat as well, but instead of drawing his weapon, searched the surroundings for any sign of the person that voice had belonged to.

"Xol, don't shoot. Not unless we have no choice...

I implore everyone here to REMAIN CALM!! There is no need to draw weapons on each other - though we should disperse into the lower halls!"

Nobody moved at first, until the Lady Phoenix beamed in a huff towards the sealed entranceway to New Vahla's underground habitat. Yet even as she left the entourage, her guards trying to keep up, a single blaster bolt rang out and struck her dead on. The force of impact carried the elder woman off her feet, sending her sprawling. At that moment, all chaos erupted. The Vahla began to close the gap, prompting a wave of warriors clad entirely in white camouflage to emerge at the entrance. Blades began to clash, and a wave of Espaa clansmen hit the ground like scythed wheat. Horns began to sound as a flurry of motion revealed the majority of the onlookers where in fact clad in crimson armor, brandishing weapons. The unthinkable had occurred.

The Sorcerers of Rhand had found him, and the Embers of Vahl were acting as their soldiers.

Now outnumbered and flanked on two sides, Gram's tune changed, activating his azure blade and aiming it towards the group of white, mummified walking corpses. Usually, the Sorcerers of Rhand wore an elaborate, almost victorian style of uniform complete with a strange peaked hood that housed a hidden crown meant to denote their status, as well as masks of various designs. Instead, it seems they had sent rhandite thralls to eliminate him and any plans of unity he had concocted.

"Fire at will."

Spoiler: OOC

Sorry for the very, very long wait. If you're still interested in the thread, feel free to reply. To defeat the Thralls, we'll need to use dice rolls. The rest of the Embers of Vahl can be killed fairly easily.

@Charles