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2 yrs ago
Current This is why you shouldn't use an actual toaster to host a website.
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2 yrs ago
[@Dnafein] Because people are salty about didney and have forgotten about the prequels.
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2 yrs ago
*angry moth sounds*
2 yrs ago
Joke's on you Dagoth-Ur, I brought eighty bottles of sujamma.
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Verra "Solace" Alleron, The Diplomat

Interacting with: Dra'kal Sherom @Lmpkio, Airus Vel Aath @Apollosarcher, Ila'Iri Orini @rusty4297




Mandalore, The Citadel
Year Four, After Re-synchronization


"It's a bit gaudy looking."

Solace took a few steps around the table at the center of the room, looking over the holocron which sat glowing just a couple feet from her. The low pulses of red illuminated not just it but also the dark wood upon which it sat, faint lines running up and down the gold and black of the outer surfaces. For just a moment she swore she saw writing along the edges, but shook her head as she studied it for a moment longer. Regardless of it being far and away from her field of study, holocrons such as this were feats of engineering that were worth the attention. It didn't even have seams that would depict where it would open, lenses for the display of holographic images or a method of opening it at all aside from the small indent at the base.

It was there that there was a small slot just large enough for a finger to press against, dark stains against the metal showing where it had tested the biometrics of perhaps dozens through the millenia. How many did the Shadow Council have try their luck at it? Perhaps dozens, hundreds? That was a question that couldn't be answered, not by anyone in this room and even if they were to analyze the dna left behind. More than that, it wasn't like it mattered. The holocron had remained sealed, and its secrets kept secret. While she personally wasn't too big on the mysteries of the force and left things up to Ashla where that was concerned, there was certainly something about this holocron that… Called to her in a way.

Just then her thoughts were thankfully pulled away by the door sliding open once more with Padawan Orini and her preferred sparring partner entering to offer his own thoughts. Unprompted, as per usual. She allowed him to take the lead in this matter, as it was really more of his thing, only taking up a position off to the side while he took his own observations.

"It's ancient... After the Second Sith War the design is more elegant than the Sith of that period... More likely from the period just after the Great Galactic War..."

"You mean gaudy. It looks a bit like a Hutt paperweight to be honest, though I suppose the Sith weren't exactly known for their style were they?"

And as she had expected, he was completely lost in having the ancient paperweight there in his hands. No matter how many times they had the talk about dangerous artifacts, he just kept-

"Possibly contains a Sith spirit..."

There it was. Always something. "Whoa. Hold on now, let's not get too carried away. Let's not have a repeat of Telos, or Balmorra, and we are sure as hell not going to do that whole Krath thing again." That was the last time she had been asked to come along for an archaeological mission with the order, and had almost caused a diplomatic incident with the Alsakani. He had just had to open a vault, despite warnings in some ancient language talking about the visitation of untold horror upon he who violates the tomb. And as she had snarked back to him when they were running for their lives, it had seemed that they were serious in the way of a thousand Krath War Droids. Luckily for them both, Toryn had been there too and the reactor for the tomb complex was remarkably unstable. She had met his smile with one of exasperation, turning wry for a moment as she reached for the holocron, aiming to turn it away from him but making a slight error in depth perception.

A soft click sounded as her hand brushed past his, thumb finding the indent and a sharp stabbing pain following. "Ouch! It pricked me!" Though she quickly withdrew her hand from it and took a step back, it was clear that the mechanism had done exactly what it was designed to do. A series of lights blinked along the outer casing, the reader retracting within the holocron until the surface was perfectly smooth. It was as if it hadn't even been there at all, but the shifting of the device was not over, not by far.

"Dra'kal, Airus. Is it supposed to be doing that?"

The red glow of light from within pulsed, strengthening until a beam erupted from the top and splashing the ceiling of the room with an eerie glow. Energy surged throughout the outer casing of the holocron, rippling waves of power activating systems that had been dormant for millennia or more. It was awake.

"Bloodline determined." It spoke with a booming feminine voice that felt as if it were shaking the walls around them, but only to the four of them directly. So it was a spirit locked within the holocron, and somehow or another it had just been released. Could it have been a reaction to the incorrect genetic sequence? Perhaps a measure used against Jedi seeking the secrets of the Sith? But the Shadow Council had said nothing of a spirit, only that twice the guardian had deigned to speak to them, and it was merely to tell them they were unworthy. If that was the case though, then at least it was appearing in the presence of four armed Jedi, and though she didn't know the skill of Dra'kal, she was sure he would be able to pick up soon enough. She was just about to reach for her sabers though when it spoke again...

"Legacy recognized, releasing authority to the Arkanian Verra Alleron."

"Fuck."
@JessieTargaryen@ReddentheEarth@Sep@Apollosarcher You are all good to post sheets in the characters tab and begin posting when ready.

Verra "Solace" Alleron, The Diplomat

Interacting with: Dra'kal Sherom @Lmpkio




Mandalore, The Citadel
Year Four, After Re-synchronization


Straight to business it seemed, and she wasn't entirely opposed to it for once. The song and dance that came with the Empire's usual diplomatic envoy was… Tiring, and that was on a good day. A sort of unspoken understanding was almost always there between Jedi. Even if their orders were vastly different, with hers being a bit more unorthodox and progressive. It was obvious not just in the way she dressed more like one who spent more time in the government, but also in everything around them. A rather large number of what looked to be civilians and True Mandalorians milled about the gardens enjoying the midday scenery. Several of the couples taking in the sights were Jedi as well, a sign of how lax the code had become with the revisions post-shattering.

"Understandable, I'm sure it was quite the journey. Hopefully our patrols didn't hold you up too long at the borders, I know that on occasion they can be a bit… Zealous. Please, follow me."

And with that she turned and started back towards the Citadel. The entire way back up the path the parasol remained over her, a slowly moving circle of shade that was necessary considering her complexion. Here and there a few stopped to greet her, mentions of lightsaber practice to be done at varying points throughout the day, to which she responded curtly and requested they find her later. As they came closer to the Citadel the murals began to come into focus, a series of scenes showing the founding of the new order, and the end of the last. A rebirth of sorts, through fire and battle. Cin Drallig was a prominent figure in the latter scenes, of his last stand on Coruscant.

"He's become a hero of sorts among the new republic, as I'm sure you've heard." Solace stated, walking past the mural and into the Citadel proper, glancing back to ensure he was behind her. "The Mandalorians consider him one of the Fallen Kings when the report of his last stand became public knowledge. It was him and a dozen temple guards who held the Jedi Temple until Grievous was forced to bombard it from orbit. From what we know, initially it was supposed to be captured, but the Confederacy couldn't even take the steps from Cin Drallig. Even the bombardment hadn't gained them the temple. He managed to survive that first and second turbolaser barrage through force body and tutaminis, standing in defiance and ready to give his last for the Republic and the Order."

"Then they glassed the entire block."

The main foyer of the Citadel loomed, a desk at the far end of the orange carpet and durasteel grey stone floors. At either side were chambers dedicated to public service, where the masters met with civilians and spoke at length of what it meant for their family to be force sensitive and how their life would change if they chose to be Jedi. That was one of those things that marked them as so different from the other orders. Only the Enclave made it a choice. She was about to comment further on the various murals and statues when they came upon the service desk where a few clerks sat.

"Ms. Alleron, is this our guest from the Shadow Council?"

"That is correct Andrade. Would you be so kind as to let Airus know that we'll be in the Imperial Room?"

A short back and forth later and they were once more on the move, only a short distance to the dedicated wing of the ground floor for their Imperial guests.

"I'll be honest with you Dra'kal, my forte is relegated almost entirely to talking people out of stabbing each other, or doing the stabbing myself. My part-, rather my colleague Airus Vel-Ath is about the best we have when it comes to holocrons, considering how few of the old archivists are left. When he heard about a biokeyed holocron, well… His excitement was palpable."

She said little else on that in particular, showing Dra'kal into a circular chamber that was typically used for meetings between the masters. It was suitable here as it held a large table in the center and featured a scanner suite with projectors. Especially useful when dealing with holocrons and sharing information.

"If you would sit it in the center of the table, we can have a look over it and see how best to proceed. Though it's incredibly likely that it will just go into the restricted section of the library to never be touched again. Except for the odd dare, you know the kind. Let's all head up to the spooky Sith holocron and see who might secretly have some dark ancestry."

Verra "Solace" Alleron, The Diplomat

Interacting with: Dra'kal Sherom @Lmpkio




Mandalore, The Citadel
Year Four, After Re-synchronization


From up on high, nearly a thousand meters above the ground, she watched the skies. The council had told her of their visitor, one of a fair many today and for the coming week, but this one was one that they could ill afford to allow misrepresentation. No mere knight of the order would greet the envoy of the Shadow Council, it was going to be her. Coming right on the heels of the completion of the Ring around the planet left her with little time to consider her options for wear, settling on the red layered dress for now and glancing at the time. Half hour until expected landing, just enough to finish up and make her way down to the surface. Outside she could hear the nearby turbolaser pylons swiveling to track incoming and outgoing vessels. Most were simply coming in to land at the base of the Citadel to drop off supplies. There crates were loaded up onto skiffs that made their way up and down what used to be the upper section of what had once been the Battalion.

It hadn't been called that in nearly two decades though, not since the fleet had lowered the battered and bruised Praetor to the surface and settled it against the face of the mesa. A gift to the order, the Paladin had said, something that would prove a little more sturdy in the face of bombardment. And so it had, for the gentle haze of the shields glimmered softly along the horizon, enough to ensure that the worst of the elements rarely bothered the civilians and Jedi walking the long road from Keldabe to the base of the tower.

Just a slight bit of rouge was all she tended in regards to her makeup, knowing that who she met was not some diplomat but a proper inquisitor made all that much easier for her. There wasn't all the pomp to go through, tidying up, fetching the paint and silks. Instead, she hooked her lightsabers to her waist and checked the time once more before boarding the main turbolift and heading down to the surface.

It was then that the Eta-2 was caught breaking orbit, taking a nice and easy flight path towards were all the other civilian vehicles were parked off to the side of the main veranda. As expected, it was followed by a decent portion of the turbolasers, always wary of visitors from the Empire. Solace was there to greet him however, and the scrutiny of the Citadel's defenses wavered to find other targets. His presence was barely noticed by those passing by, only the occasional stare from people walking the gardens at the base and of course the Temple Guard always vigilant.

"Dra'kal Sherom."

She spoke first as she came to stand before him, giving a slight inclination of her head out of respect, dark colored hair bobbing just lightly in the gentle breeze. As it was still quite bright out and the star's light reflected strongly off the flagstone and durasteel of the pathways, her right hand kept a parasol over her, while the left was extended to him by way of greeting.

"Verra Alleron, diplomat for the Grand Republic of Mandalore and the Jedi Enclaves. Most simply call me Solace, so either is fine." Her green eyes settled on the bag in hand, curious about the contents to be sure, but knowing that it was likely to be sent straight to the archives and never see too much scrutiny beyond. "If you would come with me, I'll guide you into the Citadel and we can get to business, unless you prefer a tour of the grounds first?"
@role model After reading through your second draft for your character BOI, it has come to the consensus among the GM team that there is simply too much there that would need correcting and commenting on than we are willing to spend time on. Boi Hecate is therefore denied.

@JessieTargaryen Brin is accepted without issue. Put her in the characters tab.

Also for the sake of transparency between the discord and the OOC thread, Dra'kal Sherom was accepted.
@Lmpkio either sounds good to me. When I can I'll drop a link to our discord to you in pm so we can discuss a little more in depth on the ideas.
@Sanity43217 Considering we're at an understanding on what you've chosen, you're good to post your CS over in the characters tab and post when ready.

@sly13 Your character is also accepted as is.
Mandalore, Mandalore Sector
4 ARS - The Orbital



Kilometers of metal and glass spread out to either side of the domed observation deck, a ring of durasteel around a world many had thought to be incapable of reaching such industrialization. It had taken twenty years of effort, the dedication of a people and a leader beyond most to accomplish it, but it had been done. The drive yards were complete. The last section had been fitted just hours ago, pressure seals made and the gantries already working their first keel. Such had been the decree of their Mand'alor, and so it had been done. This was their way. Within the dome were the clan leaders, having come from across all of the Mandalorian Republic and even beyond to witness this crowning achievement. Each had their own ideas of what this meant for Mandalore, what this would mean for their clan, but each gave credit where it was due.

The Paladin himself joined them resplendent in his armor, the cold blue tones of the Neo-Crusader beskargam contrasting sharply with the red and black of his helm that served as a symbol of office. While they conversed among themselves, he was silent. Watching and contemplating this achievement in comparison with all the others. Through his strong hand and stern orders they had come this far, to compete with Corellia and show the galaxy that whatever his people set their minds to, they would succeed. That was their way. Not the constant warring of millennia past. Not to sell themselves like Twi'leks to the highest bidder for their skills. Not even the engineering of war that had gained them respect from either side of nearly every conflict.

No, their way was to adapt. To overcome. Mandalorians were more than simply the penultimate warrior, they were survivors. Their single greatest conquest was life itself. Hundreds of worlds had seen the boots of Mandalorians, and hundreds more would in the future because of this. The ring was more than just a drive yard that would serve their fleet in repair, refit and replenishment, it was a sign that his way was right. And now the other clan leaders saw this. Those who doubted because of the Jedi, they now had their doubts not in him, but in their old ways. Just as Jaessih had stated to the Enclave's diplomat, they were coming upon a point where the Mandalorian Republic had stood long enough and their cultures had mixed enough for the old grudges to begin their death.

The youth of Mandalore were coming of age having known Jedi among them as allies. The Jedi were seeing a new generation of Knights rising who had lived as Mandalorians, studied their culture and vowed to the Resol'nare. Everything was proceeding by his design, and all that had been needed was patience. A patience to take things one step at a time, carefully convince the Alors of each clan and ensure the New Mandalorians felt they had a place within the new order. It was careful balancing, but it had been done.

"Mand'alor."

Sud Rengh, a man who served his clan diligently considering his youth, and that he had yet to prove himself in battle.

"I understand that the ring will now be able to not only refit the Republic in Exile's-"

"The Mandalorian Republic's fleet."

His sharp interruption came rasping through the armored helm, not even turning to regard the man behind him. All around them the conversation died down to a whisper, eyes and helmets turning to regard the two. For his part at least he stood his ground, Sud taking a drink of the Keldabe wine in one hand and smoothing down the red scruff at his chin before trying again.

"Of course, Mand'alor. With the ring now complete, it should be able to service our fleet sufficiently enough to have spare berths for the clan's banners. That was my understanding at least…"

"The clans do not need a youngling to ask for them what is theirs."

Some behind him snickered, finding it amusing in that he had chosen to speak of such things openly and so brashly. While it was always their way to be straightforward and to the point, there was of course a time and a place for such things. It didn't help that he was one of the few without armor, standing in a tailored dress-uniform indicating his status as part of the navy, red hair slicked back like some sort of city-worlder. A stark contrast to the burnished armor that most of the clan representatives wore, and the hardened features that showed their contributions to Mandalore.

"Of course Mand'alor, I was just…"

His words trailed off as Jaessih Suard came into the room, and while like him she was without armor, her bearing had quite the opposite effect on those around her. She was of the New Mandalorians in most respects, a woman who chose to serve the civilian government and not to fight for Mandalore. Yet despite that, she had won the respect of all those around her, and earned her place as secretary to the Mand'alor. Coming up to the side of the man in question, she shared a few short words with him before their leader took his leave and now she was effectively the leading authority in the room.

"As it has been for the last twenty years, each clan shall have their opportunity to requisition arms and armor for their banners. First we serve the Great Clan, then we see to the needs of each clan in turn based upon their merit. Such is our way."

"Such is our way."

A single nod had the effect of putting everyone at ease and their attention on her, for while the Mand'alor led the nation and commanded their military, it was her who spoke for him in moments like this. She brushed a hand across the shaved right side of her head, feeling along the braided line of black and down to her shoulder, ensuring her hair was not out of place and secured properly. Longer than most Mandalorians wore it, she was confident enough in her skills to have woven ornate beads between the braids, each one a signifier of an opponent defeated in single combat, multiple clan crests clear. That of Rengh was made especially visible, her sharp eyes settling on the man who thought to see his clan before the others.

"We have come a long way, brothers and sisters. From the ashes of the old republic's bitter distaste for our kind, to the ashes of our own making, and through the flames of yet another galactic war. Our recent history has been bloody, ruinous and if it were not for our Mand'alor the Paladin, we might be on the verge of our end. You all know this, for we were the ones who grew up in the shadows of a conflict that saw no need for us. Once, we were conquerors! We strode the stars and all of civilization quaked with fear for our coming!"

Her voice rang through the room, boot stamping down as a dozen more echoed hers, the clans nodding together and calling out in agreement.

"In our first crusade we burned world after world and were uncontested, for we had the Sith at our backs! What force could possibly stand against us and win? For the second, again we surged across the galaxy and fought and fought and fought and fought, with every battle killing more than we had lost. Even outnumbered and outgunned, we showed the galaxy what it was to be Mandalorian, for that was our way!"

"That is our way!"

"Yet both times we lost. Both times we were beaten back, beaten down and shattered into the divided clans. For millennia we fought each other and forgot the glory that was a united Mandalorian people, wallowing in our defeat and blaming everyone except for ourselves for our loss. We lost those crusades and every war that followed because of two things. First, is our own arrogance. As long as the galaxy feared us, we felt we were invincible. Unstoppable. Rulers of the stars. Our downfall was inevitable when they stopped being afraid. When they banded together like we had, and raised each other up to meet our skill."

Another at the side of the room was watching, her features stoic and impassive, but eyes keenly watching each member of the gathered clan leadership. To anyone else this could have been a series of different things, leading to doubts as to Jaessih's meaning, of what the clans were doing, and what the Mand'alor himself was even planning. She knew what it was though, it was an appeal to their desire for glory. Though she smiled to herself, her lips showed nothing of it, instead she merely turned away and went back to the wine at the side, holding a glass in her four-fingered grip as she was content to merely be the Jedi's representation in this meeting.

"Our second cause for each downfall was that we were simply fighting the wrong enemy. You each grew up with the tales passed down from your Alor, given to them by their Alor and so on and so on. The Jedi are the Great Enemy. We lost each war because of them, it was only by their interference that the crusades were stopped. That last part is correct, but I ask of each of you…. When time and time again you fail the hunt, do you keep doing as you have done each time? Do you continue to try and strike down the krayt with your spear, though its hide has proven too thick to pierce? Do you continue to try and fight it in its den, where the beast knows every inch and has every advantage?"

"No, no you do not. For it is our way to adapt. To overcome any challenge. To survive. That was why, when the Jedi and the Republic in Exile came to Mandalore, when all others had refused them or demanded their service, we welcomed them. For millennia we had fought the krayt and failed, time and again using the same methods, but now we have prevailed. We have joined with the Jedi, and in so doing our greatest enemy is now our greatest ally. Their strength is our strength, and our strength is theirs. For twenty years we have grown to trust one another more and more, to show them that our home is theirs, as every step of the way they have also shown us how to build our home into something worthy of fighting for."


Solace watched, the Open Circle Armada serving as a backdrop for the Mandalorian woman speaking to the gathered clan leaders. Even though she knew not what their plan was, it was starting to become clearer that there were things in motion that had been set to years ago. A great plan that had somehow managed to convince the disparate clans of Mandalorians to set aside their differences, agree to cease fighting each other and instead fight for the Great Clan. Something more than just building a nation she felt, but she had never been one to read the force, and a pall of darkness still lingered so that even the skilled seers needed guidance to read the future.

It wasn't just here and now though, the Corellians were also holding their own gatherings and celebrating their own achievements. As were the Empire and the Alsakani, with a myriad of other independent worlds looking to what would come next as the second decade after the end of the Republic passed. Even the Hapes Consortium was tentatively reaching out, drawing back the veil of isolation that they had lingered under for so long and sending out diplomats to make ties. The timing couldn't have been stranger, for the Founding was underway at the capital and thousands upon thousands were converging upon Mandalore itself to witness the coming of age of a new generation. One that had grown up not knowing the Republic, only hearing of what it had been.

"- and so, when you go forth to clad your sons and daughters in the iron, know that we are all Mando'ad. Whether one of those born of the vats, one who wields the force, or one who carries blaster and blade in the name of Mandalore, we are all equal. This is our Republic, a nation built by our people that will stand the test of war and time."

Those final words saw the rest of the room disperse, each of them heading out to begin preparations for The Founding that was to take place over the week and ensure that all necessary beskar had been acquired. Not all would take up the iron and become a warrior, but it was ceremony to represent a coming of age that was insisted upon. Eventually it was just Solace and Jaessih standing at the glass, watching the fleet moving about, some elements heading towards refit, others coming out.

"To stand the test of war and time." The Arkanian's soft tones came as a sort of questioning statement, glancing over with her pale features to regard the Mandalorian. It was partially accusatory, partially not, but ever the diplomatically vague that she specialized in.

"We are coming upon a new era Jedi, one which will change how the galaxy sees Mandalore forever. It all starts with this founding…"
I already see 13 character spots.. isn't that a bit overkill?
How will you as GMs keep a nice overview for all?


The same way we would if there were half that. If people want to join and they have a decent enough CS to pass the bar, then there is no reason for either myself or my Co-GMs to deny the character.
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