[right][color=a1a1a1][b]30km from the GRM-ISL Demarcation Line // CIS Providence-class Dreadnought [i]The Silent Harbinger[/i] // Serenno[/b][/color][/right]

[color=a1a1a1]Before them were the stars of this distant backwater of the galaxy, the Outer Rim stretching out in every direction with only the rising of the proper Core every so often to remind the crew of their lost home. Hierarch-General Ezuntan Vokroi clenched his fist around the arm rest of the command throne, his eyes narrowing as once more on schedule, the Mandalorians made their showing with that damnedable Kandosii. This was the dance they had done once a day every day for the last decade, his fleet on one side of the line and theirs on the other. Protecting the traitors from the justice of his Supreme General. The Neimoidian adjusted the collar of his uniform, checking the seals of his suit and doing one last pressure check.

"All hands." He began, looking out over the other Neimoidians gathered on the bridge, all wearing combat EVA suits like him, the armored plates weathered and worn from battle. Each mark told of the battles during the Clone Wars they had fought through, being the rather few of their people who had actually fully committed to the war. Unlike the cowards back home who had cut and run at the first opportunity, the first moment their ideals were challenged and when Grievous became the sole authority of the CIS. Not Vokroi or his Koru Bloodsworn. They had immediately taken the knee before Grievous and sworn blood oaths to him personally, swearing to never rest until even the very idea of the Republic was shattered and reduced to ashes. And that was why it was Vokroi and the Bloodsworn attending what others may have called a punishment or a political reassignment.

He understood the importance of even the smallest duties, and knew that only him and those loyal like him could be trusted to commit to Grievous' designs. It was here that one of the key efforts would be undertaken, the one to finally bring the traitors to justice and show that the Confederacy was unshakeable.

"Prepare for escalation scenario thirty-two aurek. Let's see if the Mandalorians are sober enough or if they've been celebrating their so-called republic."

A chorus of affirmatives to his command came from the crew as they went to secure their helmets, and Ezuntan did the same. There would be no risks taken even if the Independent Systems League were cowards and hid behind their Mandalorian guard dogs. Everything was accounted for under the scenarios painstakingly drafted by him and his command staff, with probability assessments all pointing towards yet another failure to incite, but he wanted to be sure they were prepared in case of a proper escalation. It was the goal, so it only made sense to do so. "Combat seals good Hierarch!"

"We have weapons lock on point seventeen, preparing torpedoes!"

"Vultures departing, Hierarch!"

"Sensor suite executing maneuver four, setting distortion to maximum."

The tension of imminent battle set in, every instinct driving him to drive his warship forward and into the guns of the Mandalorians. It was the addiction of war that both he and his crew had cultivated over the years of the Clone Wars and the following conflict with the Empire. But though his soul yearned for battle, for the destruction of his enemy in righteous combat, he tensed his hands upon the arms of the command chair, thumbing the buttons to release a fresh round of combat stimms into the ports of his combat suit. The rush came as a chemical burn through his veins, heightening senses and sharpening focus as the rest of the crew around him did the same. War was fresh on the air and he breathed it in, exhaling the command that would kick off yet another provocation.

"All ships, begin scenario."[/color][hr]
[right][color=a1a1a1][b]30km from the GRM-ISL Demarcation Line // GRM Kandosii Dreadnought [i]Aranaka[/i] // Serenno[/b][/color][/right]

[color=a1a1a1]Gerig Dral sat back in the command throne on the bridge, idly watching the stars pass by as he had done every day for the last six months on this rotation. As a void-captain of some middling experience, he had long since given up on counting those pinpricks of light and determining how many of them had shifted position since his last patrol, though he rather enjoyed telling the new bloods to do so. They were the same distant stars he had seen while serving for the Hutts, and the same ones they were now as he served with the Mandalorian Republic's navy, and would be the same stars perhaps a thousand years from now. The only thing that would change would be the flags orbiting each of them, and while the kids were talking up the glories of Mandalore and the Paladin… Well he, like many of the older Mandalorians knew their history well enough that theirs was a culture led only by the strong and eventually someone with a bigger stick would come along. For now though, this Mand'alor seemed better than a good number through history.

Who held command never much mattered to him though, thinking back to the numerous clients of his past and the Hutts especially in just how immoral they had been. All he really cared about were those under his command, a hand coming up to trace along a scar running down his jaw and remembering the worst of those assignments. He cut an imposing figure by any means, the typical "Mandalorian brute" as the Corellians attested, someone who had spent a lifetime at war and showed the scars for it.

"Alor'ad, our friends are back."

Heka Dral, another of the clan, called back from navigations and sensors, pulling up the contact on screen and soon enough the oversized and rather phallic looking ship was in view. It had been a regular show every other day or so, and to date Gerig had yet to rise to the bait. They knew the game pretty well, as he and his crew had done the exact same tactic before while in their days as petty mercs. Still, she was a rather hefty bitch in his mind, well over a kilometer in length and bristling with enough weapons to give even a beskar-clad Kandosii some trouble. His ship wasn't, and that was enough to give some pause every time the provocation came. But still, every time he was tempted just a little to hock a baradium-tipped missile right back at the Neimoidians and see just how battle-hardened they really were.

"Alright, keep an eye on them Heka and let me know when it's party time."

The only difference today, as opposed to most, is that a good number of his crew were taking a bit of rec time to celebrate the republic. Heka, one of the younger lads and rather fresh to Clan Dral was here of his own volition, not really having much family due to his old clan being a smaller one that had been absorbed into Dral. It was the same for him personally, and he had respect for the Dral for that, as well as how they didn't treat them any differently for it. So as much as he really wanted to start that fight with the Neimoidians… He couldn't disrespect his Alor or his fellow Clan by losing control so easily. At least…

"Alor'ad… We have an encrypted message?"

"From who? We're supposed to be on isolated patrol."

"It's… Secretary Jaessih. Encryption level G77-Aurek."

"Route it to my helmet."

Gerig watched the view screen ahead for a moment, seeing the ponderous shifting of the Providence class dreadnought just thirty kilometers away and clearly beginning one more attempt at provocation. The dusty grey of his helmet came into vision just off to his side, and begrudgingly he sat upright to slip it on over his head, at first not bothering to engage the seals as he figured this was just a Founding Day message sent in solidarity. Slowly the decrypter worked at unlocking the message and then he watched the full script work down his viewscreen. Without a word he thumbed the buttons on the right arm of the command throne, sending out general quarters across the ship. The alarms set into motion immediately as he continued reading through the text, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the weight of what he read sinking in.

"Sir?"

"All crew!" His command came out over the intercom systems as general quarters orders were given in Mando'a across all decks. "General quarters, general quarters! Seal all bulkheads and stow all gear!" Gerig turned to the incoming crew, boots thudding across the deckplating as they went to their stations and started securing their beskad for combat. "Khala, give me a hard burn to starboard, I want armor front." An affirmation came from the woman beside Heka as both of them began sharing information on the status at hand and working to assess combat scenarios. To his side another Mandalorian came to station at weapons, and he turned to give his orders.

"Raiki, give me status on our missiles."

"We've got thirty Jaro primed and ready to arm and launch at your command, Alor'ad."

Silence fell over the bridge for a moment, only the ship's alarms filling the pause as a dozen helmets turned to look at their captain, wondering if this was just a drill, or if something had changed. He dismissed the order from his screen and took in a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come and the consequences of this one action. He knew what would come of this, what his crew would have to do in order to survive. But he was confident in their skills, even the new blood on board. They had trained for this, and over everything else… They were Mandalorian. They would either emerge victorious or join with the Manda. Gerig ensured the magnetic locks on his boots were active and rested back into the command throne, watching as the streak of a green turbolaser bolt came from the Providence dreadnought across the line. Just as expected, it skipped across the deflector shields as it had always done, and just as expected there was that hail from the CIS captain surely to be giving platitudes of some kind of malfunction. But this time he declined the hail.

"Raiki. Put two down their throat. And make sure our Gra'tua are prepared to intercept incoming fighters."[/color][hr]
[right][color=a1a1a1][b]Keldabe // Mandalore[/b][/color][/right]

[color=a1a1a1]The sounds of music and festivities filled the air throughout the capital, of revelry from millions of not just Mandalorians but all who had come to partake in the culture and celebrate with them. Mock fighter battles took place overhead alongside yet more racing and contests of strength drew thousands to the various venues. Musicians of every species and nationality held concerts drawing the crowds and competing with everything else ongoing. Yet as the star began to slip over the horizon darkening the skies, a sound built up from the center of the city and intensifying with each passing moment. It began as a few steadily sounding the beginning of the true celebration, and then dozens of drums joined in. The pounding rhythmic sound filled the air and resonated within all across the capital city. Hundreds more sounded as other halls joined in, drowning out the gunfights, the fighter battles over head and soon enough even the concerts.

Then thousands of drums beating in the same song, a chanting building up as thousands more voices joined in. It was the song of their people celebrating unity like no other. For millennia they had been scattered, broken and taken as little better than petty mercenaries. And though it had been twenty-five years since the founding of their republic… This felt like the solidification of their efforts, a realization that this was not just some small thing that would fade. For those not of the Mandalorians it was a terrifying moment, seeing the unity of their people as it had been witnessed few times before. Images of the crusades came to mind especially for the Corellians, and some wondered if this was the start of something and not just the celebration of something already done.

But for the Mandalorians they raised their voices to the song of Vode An, finding solidarity in their fellows even of rival clans. Thousands upon thousands filled the feasting halls of the Administrative district, drinking and eating among friends, family and strangers alike. The Great Feast of the Clans had begun, ushering in a new era for all Mandalorians…[/color]