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Edmund Silvaine

There was a distinct comfort in the warm feeling Edmund felt as he pressed the crystal against his chest, and the metallic armor shifted and wrapped around his torso and spread across his limbs. It always felt soothing and reassuring, whenever he found a need to wear the armor. It's coloration was traditional, with the slight addition of a purple trim to further distinguish his role as the Templar of Gravity. He watched as Dame Sonia tapped her crystal again, shifting the armor into its formal presentation with crown and cape alike. Edmund lifted his hand almost instinctively to follow, but hesitated a moment. For an uncomfortable pause, his now-gloved hand hovered over the crystal. His mind swirled with immediate doubt, and a reminder of his hatred of pageantry. He hated having to wear the armor in its formal form... it felt at once idolatrous and demeaning.

His gaze shifted briefly to Maya, and then Theobald, as he looked about the room. He let out a soft exhale, before tapping the crystal once more. A cape emerged from his shoulders, and his helmet sprouted the protrusions of a crown-like adornment. This whole ceremony was not about him, and he was not going to let his own desires and comforts cause trouble for those he was here to serve. It was best to not cause a scene, and do as he was told. He was nothing if not obedient.

The moment Edmund took a step out of the limousine near Gile Manor, there was a rush of murmurs and confusion. The discordant flashes and clicks of cameras snapping pictures were frequent when Edmund was out with Maya, but it felt oppressive now... perhaps because he could tell they were looking at him this time. Edmund Silvaine, in all his brooding glory, was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a deep purple trim and embroidering. His unbuttoned black frock coat obscured his purple paisley satin vest, with his high-collar black dress shirt poking out from underneath to cover his neck and accentuated his freshly shaven face. His hair was even neatly combed and parted for perhaps the first time in his entire life. He wasn't the most beautiful or attractive man at this ball, not by a long shot. But given his reputation for always looking at least somewhat gruff, it was a surprise to see the Templar of Gravity look like he fit in with the higher class elites. Edmund had even gone so far as to hide his weaponry, opting instead for a heavy metal cane and to conceal his revolver within an underarm holster under his coat.

The stares and sudden interest other guests at the party showed towards him were deeply troubling. Maya had been begging him to dress fashionably for years, but he relented saying that he would allow himself to dress nicely just this once. His outfit was not nearly as expensive or opulent as what Maya would wear to a party, but to know the amount of mouths that could be fed just from the money spent on the itchy fabric he was draped in made him feel a little sick to his stomach. He did his best to outright ignore the lingering stares, following Maya into the party once she stepped out of the limo.

Once inside the manor, and surrounded by gaudy displays of wealth, opulence, and everything his birth family would have held dear... Edmund felt his mood sour even further. He did what he always did at these sorts of events: wander lazily around the perimeter, keeping an ear out for hushed conversation while always making sure to keep an eye tracked on Maya at all times. Despite his personal discomfort, such a large number of high profile individuals eased his general worries about Maya's safety. Besides... with all the Templars gathered together in one place, chances were high at least one of them could act in time should something unthinkable happen. And even Hollyhock was doing her part to check all the food for poison.

Though, it was the sound of glass shattering that sent the hairs on the back of his head on edge as he instinctively reached into his coat, hand grasping around the grip of his revolver. He quickly looked over, silently scolding himself for getting so worked up over a mere accident. Caralynn Laurent had stormed into a servant, knocking over a number of drinks. "Have you no shame? Not even an apology for bumping into me?!" The servant quickly began picking up shards of broken glass and placing them on her tray while others looked on. Edmund took one last glance around the room before quickly closing the distance to the mess, kneeling down, and helping to pick up the pieces.

While picking up a few nasty shards of glass carefully, doing his best to avoid cutting himself in the process, he spoke softly. "Don't let them get to you... and don't apologize for someone else's mistake. Won't make anyone happier." His words were more tender than even he was used to. He got careless, lost in his words, and felt the sudden sting of exposed tissue and blood on his finger. It didn't sting as much as it did when he was a child, so he ignored it for a moment and finished cleaning up the glass. When he finally stood up, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and quickly wrapped it around his finger, the bloodstains blending into the dark fabric as he gave the servant a soft smile and turned away, his scowl returning as he briefly glanced towards Caralynn before scanning the room for Maya again.

Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector
Interacting with @Sep

"How about a viewing of a Hapan cruiser? We can say you're doing important diplomatic work. It will only cost you one favour. "

"A sparring match."

Some of the color in Ro Nuul's cheeks flushed in an instant, and he turned his gaze away towards Koren's guards. He was taken aback by the suggestion, though unsurprised. Spars and duels were commonplace among many of the Jedi even before the fall of the temple. It was a way of testing one's limits and weaknesses, so that they may become known before a more fatal encounter. And yet here, in this moment, Koren's proposition had fallen upon the worst subject he could have chosen. The Kel Dor looked back to Koren for a moment, and he silently weighed his options. Ultimately, some vows were not worth breaking: no matter the cost. "While a closer inspection of the fabled Hapan technology is an enticing offer, Prince Consort... I fear that specific favor is one I cannot offer personally."

"The last time I ignited my saber was nearly twenty years ago, and when the Jedi Orders fractured and I spent time living among the common folk of Mandalore... I made a personal vow to never activate this saber unless it is in the defense or protection of another life. So it stands, I believe you would find my dueling to be inadequate even if I were to spar with you, Prince Omi-Ren. But perhaps I could make for you a counter-offer."

Ro Nuul reached into the folds of his robe, and removed a small datapad, typing and cycling through the database until he came across the desired file. He opened it, and handed a small file on Solace's professional background with the Enclaves over to Koren. "Miravera Alleron... though I would recommend just referring to her as 'Solace.' If you are looking for true entertainment, my friend... I can put you in touch with our esteemed dueling diplomat. She would also be a most illuminating connection to have if your queen desires an alliance with any of the prominent galactic factions." Ro Nuul gave a slight formal bow. "I hope I have not offended you in my refusal, and that my proposed... alternate would be to your satisfaction."
Edmund Silvaine

Edmund gave a curt nod when Maya had rejected the second half of the cookie, choosing to quickly finish it in a few bites. He gave a small sign of blessing to the goddess as he finished it aimed towards the altar, as a sign of thanks. He had seen Kasper pose for a selfie with Maya: he always preferred when he wasn't involved in her self-glorifying rituals. Though, she had not scolded him for offering her such a high-calorie snack, so perhaps she was turning over a new leaf for the dawn of a new year. Edmund certainly wouldn't mind that. Though, of course, he was a fool for thinking she would change so easily.

"Your Holiness, it's been far too long..."

The moment Tyler stepped around him and approached Maya, his blood momentarily ran cold. He stared at the back of his head with a sneer, before his eyes darted to Maya for a moment. He saw her mischievous grin. He regretted believing for a moment she had grown kind. “Oh my goodness, we’ll have to fix that! Edmund, would you take a picture of us, please?”

Edmund, almost robotically, grabbed the phone and easily unlocked it. He opened the camera app, switching over to the "Pro" mode and made a few adjustments to the ISO, color temperature, and shutter speed. He hated that he knew the correct numbers to punch in with one glance at the lighting in the room. He always played it off as if he was trying to find the correct app, lest Maya learn he had dedicated 2 months of his evening to an online photography class about a year ago, after many complaints on how bad his photography skills were. Nonetheless, Edmund lifted the phone stiffly, adjusting the focus and framing up the two of them appropriately. He looked awkward and uncomfortable as he tapped the screen a few times, tilting and moving the camera to give Maya a few alternatives to choose from. His focus on the camera diminished his scowl as he lost himself in the focus of completing his task. Once it was complete, he locked the phone and extended it towards Maya again. He turned his gaze towards Tyler briefly, trying not to let the disgust reach his eyes as he looked him over again. He kept his mouth shut, as the only words that came to mind would displease the goddess.

Domina, da fortitudinem mihi.

Edmund Silvaine

Small waves lap up against leather boots, and Edmund's soaked clothes hang on him like weights. His collar feels more constricting than usual, less a snug comfort and more a firm grip. The water is frigid, chilling into his very bones. The river is opaque and impenetrable, and as Edmund takes his first step into it, it feels more resistant to his advance than water normally does. Edmund doesn't feel wet, but his brain is not able to comprehend it. He sees, on the other side of the river, a boat slightly run aground the shallow shore. He sees men in armor approaching the boat, rifles in hand. Edmund takes another step, and he feels something grabbing his leg. The water is too opaque to see anything. Edmund resists, and tries to take another step. Another hand grips his other leg, and begins to pull him down. Then his wrists and hands. Edmund watches in horror as the armored men board the boat. He sees others behind him on the shore, all faceless and wearing the standard Templar armor. He looks back to the ship. He hears a gunshot.

Edmund jolted awake, disoriented. His left hand had instinctively reached for the loaded revolver sitting on the small nightstand next to his bed, the sun's earliest rays just barely peeking in through the cracks in the blinds of his small room. Edmund sighed deeply, catching his shortened breath as he began to parse nightmare from reality. It wasn't a particularly novel nightmare, rather it was one he had suffered somewhat frequently in the past few months. He eyed the guitar resting on a stand an arm's reach away, just past the nightstand. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, grabbing the revolver and safely disengaging the hammer before setting it back down. He then grabbed his guitar, resting it on his knee, as he began to strum a few chords while sleep still clung to the corners of his eyes. He hummed along to the tune for a time, before murmuring, "Why can't I cross this river?" Edmund's hands stopped strumming, and he sat in quiet contemplation for a moment. He wordlessly placed the guitar back on its stand. It was best not to question things too deeply, and just take it as a reminder to not break his vow. He wouldn't let Maya end up like Theodore.

A morning jog along the same route as always helped to clear the mind. He got the same confused glance at the large revolver on his hip from one or two early morning joggers, but most of the regulars made a passing polite wave. Edmund would only nod in acknowledgement, as per usual. He stopped by a small coffee shop near the apartment complex, and the barista just gave a pleasant nod in acknowledgement as Edmund set down a note with Maya's coffee order on it. After a few minutes, the barista called his name, and he picked up the small coffee carrier with four drinks. Three were just black coffees, and one was whatever strange concoction Maya had dreamt up the day before. He knew he might be back in a half-hour or so when Maya awoke and decided it was either made wrong or not what she wanted.

When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, Edmund gave a nod to the two security guards who greeted him. They went to grab the drink carrier, and Edmund took his coffee and Maya's out of it. He set hers on the island in the apartment proper's spacious kitchen, while he went to his own mini-apartment. After a quick shower, he emerged from his own apartment dressed in his full uniform and sipped on his coffee. An itinerary was already printed out and waiting for him in the dining room. He internally groaned as he saw the attached limousine contract. It was going to be one of those kinds of days after all.

Maya, as per usual, was already on her phone the moment Edmund saw her that morning. He hated hearing take after take of the same tired upbeat rambling, and watching Maya tilt and turn her head to check the view of every single angle of her face through her camera killed another infinitesimal fraction of his soul. She always claimed that this was part of the job, and to an extent she was right. But as Edmund sipped his coffee while overlooking the holy city from this penthouse, that small feeling in the pit of his stomach turned over. He wasn't made for this kind of lavish lifestyle. And it was still a couple months until his next camping trip with the Scion of Fire, where he could finally feel that inner peace he was currently missing.

The rest of the day was a blur. Edmund was so wrapped up in listening to security reports, reading over the background checks on the driver and company of the limousine, and taking meaningless pictures for Maya's social media feed that he had forgotten to eat again. Not that he had the appetite to stomach anything as is: he knew already what kind of ceremony he would have to watch today. He had learnt from a young age that the Church was wise and guided by the spirit of the Goddess Incepta, and rarely ever questioned a decision made by them. These days, Edmund hardly even questioned his placement as the Templar of Gravity. But today... today was testing the bounds of Edmund's fealty.

So it was, that when Edmund and Maya stood side by side and watched Tyler Morris the oath-breaker receive his second blessing, Edmund's nails dug into his palms hard enough to leave red marks. His ever-present scowl had a harsher, colder stare to it than usual. When the ceremony ended, and Maya turned to him to make a remark, Edmund's eyes still followed and lingered on Tyler for a moment. “Aw, isn’t it inspiring? I remember when that was you and me up there, don’t you?”

"I pray I will never be so bold as to be blessed twice." His whispering voice was somewhat hoarse, as he realized they were the first set of words he had spoken in hours. He didn't need to look at Maya to tell she was goading him, nor that she had the same fake smile plastered on her face she always did. Regardless, his scowl softened as he turned his gaze towards the others gathered around. He recognized all of them, either having seen their faces in person at the very latest at the last blessing, if not plastered on tv screens during the more church-affiliated news broadcasts. His face softened to a more modest scowl, and only Maya would have been able to recognize the faintest of a twitch of the corner of his lips (the closest he could get to smiling or smirking in his two years of service as her Templar). "One blessing was plenty, your holiness." His fumbling attempt at a sarcastic joke was undercut by the absolute sincerity with which he used the formal term of address towards her.

As Maya stared and watched all the others in attendance, Edmund eyed the Templar of Metal and her box of cookies. His stomach elicited a small growl, and he gave a small sight of defeat. Weber's appearance in the small throng of individuals waylaid any fears that Ionna was only speaking to the Scions. So, Edmund stalked over after a moment of hesitation, giving the young princess a little space as she swiped a cookie. He approached cautiously, the price of an interesting fact weighing on his mind as he tried to clutch at a fact not too graphic to potentially upset the young princess next to him or too mundane to not be worthy of the interaction. His mind drifted to his activities the night before, and he settled on his answer. "I've been re-reading Redcrosse's collection of Sonnets. I find his observations on nature insightful." Believing his elaborative answer to be satisfactory, he took the same type of cookie the young princess Rosemary had taken and returned to his post next to Maya. He broke the sugar cookie in half, biting into the left half to give it a taste. Finding it to be sufficiently sweet, he offered the right half in the direction of his Scion as an offering.

Keldabe Administrative District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector
Interacting with @Sep

Ro Nuul politely nodded, his hands remaining clasped behind his back. He felt his gaze wander outside, watching the ships and people outside moving in a chaotic harmony. More had survived, which was always good to hear. A few less the cyborg had taken from the Jedi... not enough, but any singular life was a celebration. Focusing on the destruction had led many down a dark path, even within the Enclaves. He knew better than to let his heart dwell on it too much.

Koren bowed his head. "My affiliation in the Galaxy is to my Queen, and my desires are hers." He smiled kindly at the Kel Dor. "Right now, the Separatists have probed our borders. We have a strong fleet, but I doubt we could withstand a sustained attack." Koren shrugged. He signaled to one of his guards who moved away to call down the shuttle. "I suppose we are in need of friends."

He sighed. "How do I wish for the Consortium to fit in? That is not my place to say. I'm here too make contact and report back. I can advise my Queen, I can't make decisions on her behalf." He raised his hand, his tone shifting to jovial as a smile crossed his face. "It's a marriage thing."

Ro Nuul nodded politely, feeling through the force yet again that the two were isolated and alone enough to speak plainly. "I do not believe the Masters of the Order expected so many of our rank to end up betrothed within their lifetimes... I have found my obligations in far less cheerful and loving company, I am afraid." Ro Nuul's cheeks contorted into the closest it could get to a cheeky grin, before his voice dropped a little in volume with a serious tone. "As for your queen and our people, Prince... you have options, however limited, when it comes to allies. But any assistance will always come at a cost."

"The simplest method of obtaining aid is to contract a Mandalorian Banner, though their ability to provide assistance and aid may be restricted under this Republic's charters and articles. The Mandalorians are well known and well-respected for their talents in the arts of war. They would most certainly prove to be the most expensive in terms of exchanging currency. This is the most you can expect of the Mandalorians, for the Iron Truce will proclude you from any aid or support from the army itself. Our government has chosen a more isolationist approach to dealing with the CIS." Ro Nuul's tone was anything but subtle. The very name of the Bes'hakajir seemed almost painful for the Jedi to utter. He did not hesitate much as he continued. "As for the other galactic governments... and I speak with candor when I say this, I worry they may prove even more difficult to work with. The Alsakani can provide little aid or reliability, the Correllians are only interested in their own borders, and the Empire rarely provides aid to a world without assimilating it into its ever-expanding border... it's hardly a surprise why little has been done about the CIS in decades."

Ro Nuul turned his gaze back to Koren. "However... I do not wish to dissuade you from making connections while you are here. This Founding Celebration is a good opportunity to meet with advisors and envoys from all across this galaxy. If you need any introductions... I am more than happy to help schedule a meeting." Ro Nuul's voice became less grave, instead finally matching the humorous tone Koren has used before. "Of course, I am trying to avoid my obligations to entertain a few of my aristocratic colleagues... so I would not mind accompanying you for a while longer, your highness."
EDIT 2: I apologize to the GM team for constantly updating this character. I have been cursed with ideas for this sad little man the past few days. Please, indulge my transgressions.

For ease of review, I present the following: Edmund Silvaine v1.03 Patch Notes:
  • Templar of Gravity confirmed
  • Included personality developments as a result of his unfortunate assignment, and a more significant character flaw.
  • Non-lethal weapon unlocked
  • Added ammunition to appearance section
  • Updated backstory to reintroduce Katarina based on hand-written notes I finally found
  • Updated backstory to reflect Scion assignment
  • Updated backstory to make clear background in fighting monsters in the woods, like the edgy bastard he is
  • Single sentence backstory addition regarding learning the guitar
  • Made Edmund an eepy boy

I'll be brewing up my Scion of Shadow cs. I'm thinking he'll be something of an unconventional priest, and a poet of some renown. But he doesn't publish under his real name, because he doesn't want he doesn't want his writings to have to pass under the same scrutiny that a scion is normally due.

If you're still looking for a Templar to guard your shadow poet, I have ideas.
Definitely interested in this. I would be more than happy to work up a Templar for someone's Scion.

JAMMER, being the slow tank of a machine it was, had just managed to catch up to the back line of EINHERJAR's attack force when the arthropod emerged. Script swore to himself. "Couldn't be easy now, could it?" His eyes scanned briefly over to his status screens. The MAs seemed to be dropping like flies, either switching off their radios or having gotten torn up from fire. While cleaning up the rear of the Communications squad's formation, Script's left ring finger and pinky were maneuvering a back-mounted analogue stick and button on the left control stick. This swung the shoulder-mounted chaingun wildly, laying down suppressive fire and ripping through the cheap MAs still desperately swinging back for a counter offensive. The light thrum of the gun added a bass-filled backdrop to Script's harsh symphony. With most of the MAs now firmly out of commission, Script turned his sights to what was left of the battle.

<<"Good copy, Watcher, initiating! All units, go for the other batteries, then we finish off the Arthropod! Make these maggots bleed!">>

Script watched on the scanners as Banshee and Fallen Angel took this to heart, swooping towards the remaining kinetic cannons. The flash of steel alloy that was Fallen Angel seemed to be handling the cannons fine, and with most of the MAs down... Script scanned the Arthropod before them. Point Defense was going to be a problem for a more straight, forward run, and Watcher's smoke screen posed a significant issue with a direct scan. Script pushed his controls forward, thrusting JAMMER into a dead sprint towards the Arthropod's left flank, making sure to keep a good enough distance to try and avoid triggering the defense systems just yet. He slid into a small dip in the terrain, lowering itself to keep steady. The Point Defense turrets were going to be an issue, as Script saw Banshee boost up into the air to get in position for a run at the Arthropod.

Script ran a quick scan, small red triangles marking the locations of the various turrets on his HUD. Once the locks were in place, JAMMER quickly reloaded his rifle with longer-range incendiary rounds and switched to burst-fire mode. Script switched over to the local EINHERJAR comms, opening up his mic. <<"Sorry WATCHER, I can't let you have all the glory. BANSHEE, I'm opening up the left flank for you. Try not to miss, I've only got so much smoke.">> He switched his mic off, moved his left hand off the control stick to manually type in a line of code. JAMMER's legs and head locked into place as Script switched protocols. He could take a few hits from the turrets if need be. The turret scans locked in place on Script's HUD as his left hand took back to its control sticks. He manually triggered his own electronic smoke, copying Watcher's move. "Alright... Locked and loaded. Let's see if this will do the trick... worst case, I give them something to focus on."

Almost instantaneously the screen's visual feed began glitching. That was fine, as the red triangles remained locked as a static image on his HUD. Script moved his right control stick and began unloading his rifle in the direction of the locked turrets in a calculated sweep of the Arthropod's left flank. By the end, visuals were almost completely gone as JAMMER had emptied his rifle in a serious of calculated burst-fire shots. If his math was right, visual confirmation was unnecessary. Even if he had missed, the volley of shots would be enough to get the attention of the auto-turrets. But with a large smoke cloud fully obscuring the area surrounding JAMMER, the auto-turrets should fire wildly and blindly around JAMMER. He would take a couple hits... but that's what JAMMER'S armor was for. After all, better him at this range than BANSHEE.

As soon as JAMMER's rifle was empty, Script tapped the enter key on his keyboard and pulled the controls backwards, his middle fingers pressing hard into small triggers on the back of the control sticks. The leg-mounted thrusters on JAMMER activated, thrusting the AUG backwards in the cloud of smoke as Script threw his aug's arms up defensively to help further protect the cockpit from any stray fire coming his way.
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