Avatar of Alfhedil


Recent Statuses

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


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Cin Vhetinla'braar // The Hall of Kings // Mandalore - Evening

Forty floors above the city streets the main hall was a flurry of activity as Mandalorians of thirty clans moved to ensure their appropriate place in the feast and the placement of visitors from nearly a hundred worlds and polities. Already numerous minor diplomats and officials had arrived, those who did not necessitate an announcement had been allowed to attend early and with the bounty of food making its way to each of the large tables arrayed in the hall it was hard to argue against such an invitation. As the secretary to the Mand'alor and one of the highest ranking individuals in the Republic, Jaessih was uniquely positioned to advise the arrangements of this feast, and it was of particular importance to see to everyone's needs while not ignoring the importance of this day for her people. Against advisement from Satine, she had dressed as normal, a simple suit in dark blues that was more professional and practical rather than some of the elaborate affairs that others attended in.

She had keen eyes on every little thing ongoing, and ears on the conversations already brewing around the event. It was mostly idle gossip between Corellians and some of the smaller state dignitaries, but she noticed one or two curious about when the Mand'alor would be making his presence known as well as if there were more Jedi from the Enclaves attending. Assuth Brug was working overtime on ensuring there wasn't too much concern there, the man one of the so-called "New Mandalorians" of Satine's attempt at pacifism decades earlier, but also dedicated to the ideal of this new republic. Rather brutish in appearance, he was often mistaken for one of the traditionalists but his lack of beskar and his distaste for violence soon convinced others away from such notions. Unfortunately though for her musings of the feast to be and visitors to come, Assuth was approaching her with that look that told her he was going to insist on her explaining something herself to someone.

"Madam Secretary."
"Yes, Assuth?"

Another issue had been at hand as well, and she would have much preferred to take a step away from the great hall to deal with that, having sent out orders to an outer fleet and needing to check the status of that particular affair. But it seemed the Fallen Kings had other ideas. Assuth held in his hand a dataslate with some information on it regarding a few particular ambassadors.

"Yes, madam. Really."
"Very well then, inform them that we understand their positions back in the Authority, and respect them moreso for taking the risk to travel through occupied territory to make their request in person to the Mand'alor. However at the moment, the Paladin is engaged in other affairs that require his immediate attention and cannot grant any further audiences."

Assuth took notes as she spoke, the man diligently recording the relevant information as she herself watched the delegation from Seswenna arguing with each other across the hall. Though herself and others supported the rebellious states as best they could and offered their steadfast protection should they gain independence… This was rarely enough for those under Grievous' thumb, and some even in the Mandalorian Republic were making efforts to do more… Aggressive actions. It was something known about on the upper levels and coming into issue more than once when an explanation was required on those rare occasions the CIS actually chose to take action against them. But that was an ongoing issue as well, and more than once both herself and the Paladin had warned the CIS against testing them.

"Now, that will likely not be enough to sate them, and before they can get a word in to voice their protest you are to inform them that for the first time in thousands of years, they get to sit at a feasting table and partake of meat hunted by and prepared personally by a living Taung."

Silence followed as Assuth narrowed his eyes, his tolerance for politicking bullshit notably much less than hers and that was saying something.

"Madam… Isn't that stretching things? Wouldn't Atin Dral be frustrated by such an embellishment of-"

Jaessih cut him off with that kind of smug grin that only came from someone who knew exactly what they were doing and how it would play out, a rather catlike expression to say the least.

"Atin did lead the hunting party for most of the previous few days, and it can be attested that there were multiple beasts he slew personally, so in a way he did hunt a few of the animals presented. And he did assist in the preparation of a few, as well as guide others in the traditional dressing of the rest of the hunt, so it can also be said that there are a few plates upon these tables that Atin did in fact, prepare himself."

"Madam… Are you sure you're not Corellian?"

She gave a light chuckle at the insinuation, but brushed it off fairly quickly afterwards, turning her attention back to her own personal datapad and running through the series of things that needed to be taken care of before the event could begin in earnest. The Empress of the Renkar Imperium needed an appropriate announcement, and she glanced to the entrance hall to see banners being prepared for just such a moment, alternating holobanners that could be adjusted to display a series of crests and emblems depending on need. Then there were a few Corellians, one of which was going to be quite the headache but she couldn't outright refuse a member of the Greens. And a few others besides, including of all people an Argent Templar. A pause came as she considered that and slowly turned to face Assuth who was still standing there with a look on his face that showed his impatience.

"There is something else?"
"Well, yes Madam. A young woman presented herself not too long ago for an audience with the Mand'alor, and while we did turn her away initially it appears that she's been rather insistent."
"Alright, so what backwater, rebellion, or otherwise inconsequential system is she representing and why is her audience deemed more important than that of say, the Eriadu Authority?"

For his credit, the man took most matters seriously and rarely dismissed others no matter their particular eccentricities. This time though, he looked slightly perturbed and for the sake of keeping things more confidential, he showed the world in question to Jaessih. And that was quite the curious world indeed, one that was entirely unexpected.

"Are… You sure about that?"
"Quite so, as while the young woman herself is… Well, eccentric to say the least, she did have a guardian attending her who not only corroborated her status as a foreign dignitary but…"
"She did not arrive on Mandalore alone. Apparently she is accompanied by what her guardian would only describe as a high-ranking administrator within their nation, and officially their regent."
"... Fuck."
"Precisely madam."

Right, appreciate the time taken with it and the corrections, though I'm going to bring that Anaxes thing up at some point lol. So go ahead and put The Lions of Alsakan in the characters tab and get to posting.

@Queen Arya

Just making it official in thread as I approved it over discord, but yeah you're good lmao.
30km from the GRM-ISL Demarcation Line // CIS Providence-class Dreadnought The Silent Harbinger // Serenno

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."

30km from the GRM-ISL Demarcation Line // GRM Kandosii Dreadnought Aranaka // Serenno

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.


"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."

Keldabe // Mandalore

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…
@Sir Lurksalot As mentioned the only things I noted as off were the occasional missing words here and there, so you're good to go man.
I haven’t RP’d in 2 years but find myself with some upcoming extra free time and a craving for something Star Wars-ey.

Also my old old old old friend @Sep is in this.

So I might try to get in on this, tho the discord link is expired.

Heyhey, still room for more by all means. Don't mind the ever so slight lull, we've got some good shit brewing and I'm sure once the holidays are cleared we're going to be back and in the swing of it. Also yeah, discord has been really weird about the invite link for a bit, but now I've updated the OP with a permanent invite link. At least until discord decides otherwise again.

The Discord
@Theyra After having another read through I don't see anything outright objectionable about Kzaye, so I'll be approving them.

Now, as per usual I'll take a moment for more generalized announcements regarding the RP as a whole. Firstly in that while we are still very much open to new characters both by first time applicants and current players, I would ask that anyone going further look to make either a Corellian, an Argent, or an Alsakani character. We've got a fair few Imperials, which is a good thing, and a fair number of independents, so I want to be sure that there's not just an even spread across the group in terms of alignments and motivations for a more diverse cast, but also have people with very different interests that would help make future plot-lines more interesting.

Also, I've decided to nominate @Quest Abandoner as our second Co-GM. From experience I consider them to be pretty fair regarding working with players and their concepts no matter how unhinged, and that's one of my primary criteria when it comes to selecting those to GM the RP alongside me.
Imperial Security Bureau Dark Space Listening Post 4546-Osk // Imperial Dark Space

The dark of space quietly spun around the matte-black painted Golan-II, flecks of white across the hull to give the visual impression of an uninterrupted star field, and a single Imperator sat docked with the same stealth paint. Only the faint red lights in simple patterns even indicated the warship and station were there, and only for the approach of a Lambda class shuttle slowly drifting towards the open hangar. Dassan Sevo, Sector Chief for Eastern Six, watched the approach patiently as he went over the classified mission 4546-Osk was undertaking. There was an attitude among the lower ranks of the ISB that surveillance was a "lesser" task, busywork or punishment for something or another, but Dassan felt otherwise and impressed upon those under his command the importance of such tasks. It was a watchful and knowing Empire that was able to most effectively react to a hostile galaxy, and he believed fully in the importance of knowing who was doing what at all times. Even if some may be rather displeased with such observations.

That was what brought him to 4546-Osk, as well as checking in on the refitments for Galatea under the new stealth programs. With a subtle thud and hiss of landing gears, he was moving down the loading ramp with the white cape billowing behind him. All before him a series of officers stood flanking the ramp dressed the same as him, in the white uniform of the Imperial Security Bureau and awaiting orders. He simply gave a nod to the officers and they dispersed to return to their tasks at hand, leaving only one to escort him to the command center. "Sector Chief Sevo." The man said, his uniform denoting him as an Officer Darucal Piege. "We have Commander Iless Omsat in the command center with the report on her vessel's refitment status, and I've instructed our sensor technicians to collate their reports for more efficient review." Excellence in efficiency, Officer Piege had taken to heart his ethos on making sure that even the smallest task was done as if the Empire itself depended upon its success. Which, in his mind it did. The smallest most benign tasks, if left unattended could see the unraveling of order and peace within the Empire, and the galaxy to follow. He accepted the first binder and began to work his way through the first few pages, mostly just a review of the station's region of surveillance. "The Mandalorians have been busy it seems." He noted the shifting of the Banners to take over most security roles within GRM space, Keldau the majority with their rather impressive fleets, but a few smaller clans over more than just their holdings.

"This data on the Mandalorian patrol fleets accurate?" Piege took hold of the binder when offered, going over the information quickly and noting the stamps. "As of a day ago, sir." A full day had passed since those readings, which could in any other circumstance put a war fleet on the other side of the galaxy. He expressed his dissatisfaction with the rather distinct lapse, but did not fault the technicians or officer Piege for providing him the information. "Have the sensor tech observing sector forty-three recalibrate the hyperspace sensors and give me a new reading." An affirmative had the officer moving ahead to relay the orders, and within a few moments both were in the command center where a bustle of activity greeted him. "Sector Chief on station." The command came out and everyone took a moment to offer a brief salute to him, then knowing how he did business, immediately returned to their duties. Dassan was not the kind of man to have his people stand needlessly on ceremony, especially when there was work to be done.

Which on that point, he was presented with a Mossak Sek, the technician watching over much of Mandalorian space and with the most experience in their movements. "Report Officer Sek." The man took a moment to ensure all of the information they had was up on the holotable between them, motioning towards a series of fleets. "Here are Banners Koteyc Yaim'ol, Keldau. Akaa'nar, Rengh. Aden'laka, Nera. And finally Cetar'narir, Syrhangh." Keldau was the largest, almost rivaling independent nations with the size of their fleet and the quality of their marine forces. Most notable was the presence of their Assertor and twin Bellators in the orbit of Mandalore and multiple capitals separating the CIS representatives from the rest of the visiting fleets. There were a few other large formations around each of the major worlds in Mandalorian space, but he was most curious about their actual military forces.

"This is my concern, Sector Chief." Mossak drew up their readings of the Mandalorian Navy and their movements over the last twelve hours. For a moment he studied the information, as usual giving no indication on his thoughts, but finally he connected the points. "They have a dozen fleets that haven't moved." The technician nodded, drawing up a series of recorded fleet movements that 4546-Osk had observed before. "As you see here, this is the usual rotation we've observed. Fleets eight through seventeen tend to rotate through the outer cordon, while the first through seven the interior. In previous Founding celebrations the Banners did assist in security, but the majority of the Mandalorian Navy still patrolled the borders. From what we've observed, there has been no movement since early this morning when most of them came to simultaneous mooring."

Dassan considered the possibilities before him, neither too appealing. There was the idea that the Mandalorians had in actuality brought their fleets to a halt, to indulge in the Founding's celebrations. This led him to believe in the readiness of their military to be significantly more lax than assumed, and thus doubting the idea of their Republic being capable of enforcing their protections across the galaxy. And if the Empire was observing their movements, then it also meant others such as Corellia were doing the same and would make the same assumptions. But Dassan disliked assumptions and preferred fact and logic, something he impressed upon those under his command. "Is there a possibility that our instruments are either being jammed in some way, or that the Mandalorians have found a way to misdirect them?" It was a curious question that had Mossak turning from him for a moment to consult a few panels opposite and going over some data. "I can have the engineering department boost power to the sensors for a moment to get real time hyperspace readings, but we would briefly be illuminated for anyone watching."

A curious conundrum. More reliable and actionable information, but the recon station would be vulnerable to observation itself, a dangerous possibility for what was supposed to be a covert station. In the end, he gave the nod and within a moment there was a surge in power and the active display in the center of the command center flickered and adjusted. And there he saw the truth of the matter as each of the Mandalorian fleets disappeared from where they had been stationary until the only fleets active and observed were the Banner fleets. Something was happening, the Mandalorian military was on the move and in force not seen since their founding. He was quick to order the disconnect, and the techs around the room swiftly enacted countermeasures to keep the station from being discovered after executing the equivalent of shooting a flare off in a dark room.

"Officer Piege" His command was sharp and quick, the officer standing at attention with Iless Omsat behind him and offering a curt nod. "Send a short burst to the Ascendancy class warship Endurance, they are being reassigned. They are to immediately suspend all operations and proceed at flank speed to this station. Commander Omsat, put the Galatea on war footing and I need a private console to send a short burst to Ord Mantell and to the Empress on Mandalore." His sense of urgency was palpable, not once did he raise his voice but the importance of his commands were clear. Immediately the station went on alert and personnel hustled to get their tasks done. Dassan stared at the table before him, feeling a grim sense of foreboding settling over him…

Cin Vhetinla'braar // The Hall of Kings // Mandalore - Afternoon

The question lingered in her mind, wondering about how to answer it as well as how it was quite the easy deflection from the conversation prior. Of course the Empress would not want too much prying into the New Imperial program, as someone like her tended to make a living off discerning secrets and leveraging them against allies and enemies alike. Despite their friendly disposition at the moment, anything could shift that within the coming hours, days or years. So she took the opportunity and inclined her head ever so slightly in respect and considered the question.
"Being Mandalorian is a complicated matter, Elara." She began, a chuckle up ahead from their Deathwatch escort. "Those formerly known as the New Mandalorians had some quite controversial opinions on that, and were very much opposed to more traditional elements. Yet opposite them are those like Cedthos, a man belonging to the Children of the Watch, and other more isolationist sects." Now the man turned to regard them, giving a slight bow of respect to the Empress as he took the opportunity to explain that one.

"My clan is one of very few who adhere to some of the more religious aspects of our Taung traditions, the Resol'nare is absolute in our minds above even the strict adherence to never removing our helmets except in the presence of family, and the respect of the Fallen Kings." That drew a curious look from the Empress between Solace and Cedthos, wondering for a moment on that and realizing that the Mandalorians were a lot less unified than first thought.
"Ultimately," The Arkanian continued, gesturing to a mural of Mand'alor the Uniter. "There is only the Resol'nare that determines who is Mandalorian and who is not. Firstly is that we speak Mando'a and swear to teach our children to be Mandalorian. As it is the spoken and written language in our Republic, this is something that all of our people adhere to without effort. Those who join into our clans can have trouble with it though, but it becomes easier with each passing year as Mando'a becomes second to Basic in many systems."

"Then there is the wearing of the armor, but that one becomes quite open to interpretation with the inclusion of not only the New Mandalorians but also the Jedi." The Empress paused a moment as they lingered before an icon of Mand'alor the Vindicated, one of the former Mand'alors notable for representing that even the Mand'alor was to be held accountable. He had killed the prior holder of the title for failing to uphold his word, and then took over command to rally his people. She scowled as she read further, but kept her opinions to herself as her Arkanian guide continued. "The armor is a choice, but we all keep beskar on us. For me, that is a medallion I keep along with my family's traditional one." She tugged on the delicate threads running down her neckline, pulling up a pair of medallions one silver and made of songsteel, the other a bronzey steel depicting the mythosaur skull with the traditional Jedi stars and wings behind it. "Beskar, more than the armor itself, represents what it is to be Mandalorian above all else. Like our people it will take countless strikes, endure the most intense heat and still remain intact. It is the indomitable spirit of the Mandalorian people made manifest." Once more they started walking through the halls as Vaem San received a communication and had to lag behind. "And as I understand it, another of your tenets is defending oneself and your family? Which the Iron Truce complicates a fair bit I imagine, especially considering the number of incursions the CIS has made on clan holdings, and the attacks on Banners as they return to Mandalorian space. I would imagine any one of these would have merited some kind of reprisal, but from what I understand the most the Paladin has given to the CIS is a very stern warning, which you'll forgive me if I say that feels a bit trite when compared to Mandalorian lives lost in these attacks."

Silence followed the bold remarks, only broken up by their footsteps through the hall on approach to the doors just ahead. Solace considered them carefully, thinking through the incidents in particular and what she was and was not permitted to speak on, and finally coming to a decision as they reached the entrance to the great hall. The doors opened to give way to a large communal space already set with numerous long tables and staff bustling about to work through who was seated where and why. With so many affluent and influential people attending this particular feast, it was important not to slight anyone, but to also ensure those of importance were appropriately seated. There up on a slightly raised platform was another table where she knew the Empress would be and Jaessih as well when the time came, but that was still a few hours away and for now… "If you'll excuse me your grace, this is where we must part ways for now. There is still much to do and Secretary Jaessih has requested my presence to make a few finalizations. However, to answer your question… Understand that every enemy of Mandalore has fallen one way or another, and that we do not forgive, nor do we forget."

A slight bow, and she departed with her Deathwatch escort, disappearing into the bustle of attendants getting the space ready for the evening's festivities. Elara scowled as she turned, reading over the messages that Vaem san Skaer had received on her behalf. "Your grace, I feel as though we have stumbled into the Krayt's den…" The Empress nodded slowly, considering that something was happening behind the scenes, and there was a rather uncomfortable lack of information as to what. "And the beast is stirring."
@Quest Abandoner Ellia looks good as posted, go ahead and post her over to the characters tab.
@Chev I don't see anything wrong with Vorax as posted, so you're good to post him over and get to posting.

The Citadel // Upper Residential // Mandalore - Noon

It was just a short speeder ride out of Keldabe and away from the tension of that early morning conference, but it was one that the Arkanian found herself taking full advantage of to sort her thoughts and look towards the evening party. Well, it would have been a party under any other circumstances, in any other nation in this galaxy. She was quite certain the Corellians would see it as just that, for they had a habit of taking even the slightest excuse to hold a gala, but for her and the Mandalorians and other dignitaries attending… It was an equal part celebration of the founding, and business. The Empire was her biggest concern, what with that outburst between the Mand'alor and the Empress cutting things rather short and giving everyone an excuse to be somewhere else. Solace quietly ran a finger against the nail of her thumb back and forth, a subtle tic that she did when deep in thought and feeling a fair bit of concern. She was working out how best to defuse things between the two biggest military powers in the galaxy, to try and keep them on friendly terms without compromising the pride of either. Going over the docket for the party, that seemed to be a bit of a taller order than first thought. There were of course the three guardians who attended the Empress in the morning conference, but also an additional few guardians and a freshly promoted Vice Admiral. Supposedly that admiral had been appointed this duty as a punishment, but that was rumor from her few imperial contacts and nothing could be substantiated. Her eyes settled on one name in particular though, and it was hard to hide her disgust at such a person.

Sanri Alda, one of many Arkanians who had fled with the outbreak of the Second Arkanian Revolution, and just like many of the purebloods, a rather skilled geneticist. Director of the New Imperials project and affiliated with numerous organizations within the Empire, notably the Ministry of Imperial Truth. That had some interesting implications associated with it, and none of them palatable for a woman who distanced herself from her heritage as much as she did. Yet, she would withhold her judgment until actually meeting the woman, but it was still a concern of hers. There was a troubled history between herself, her sister and her family back home, one particularly tied to many of the issues of the revolutionaries and the Arkanian people. She could feel a tug of her attention at that thought, drawing her from her introspection just as the speeder landed in one of the upper ports in the Citadel. It was her sister sensing her discomfort and apprehension, giving a gentle nudge at her through their force bond.
<I'm sorry Sena, I wasn't as composed as normal and let it affect you.> Through their bond they had an innate telepathic link that let her 'talk' to her sister even as she took the winding path through the reoriented hallways of the Mandator Dreadnought turned Jedi Temple.

In those early days it had been a lot more haphazard and difficult to maneuver, but after twenty years it was less and less starship and more proper building as it fused into the cliff-face that supported it. At the very least there were fewer long drops from the formerly extension main halls that had gone from bow to aft. The two of them chatted a little back and forth as she made her way to her own quarters, a rather modest suite in the upper floors that had a view of Keldabe in the distance and all the accommodations necessary for a diplomat of her standing. Her sister had been feeling a little lonely today since she was back in the tank for the next week or so, her condition flaring up once more and making it difficult to be active. That was an issue she had been working on in her free time, glancing over to a workstation with a series of ongoing simulations working through a dozen genetic corrections. Her sister had initially been rather active like herself, but in the last ten years her health had deteriorated severely, apparently this being one of many issues with the offshoots. She would go visit on her way out of the Citadel, it wasn't too far down the hallway as accommodations had been arranged for the sisters to be near each other.

For now she busied herself with the offhand talk of their days, her sister being far more interested in the 'mysteries of the force' and the related so she didn't really follow too closely as discussion of her studies came up. It was much the same as she talked of the political machinations of the assorted people attempting to sway the Mandalorian government one way or another. At least her sister knew how much she disliked the Corellians and shared the sentiment of not looking forward to yet another long talk with that boorish envoy of House Erelen. Not even the duke himself, but a member of a cadet branch. At a certain point she was entirely unsure if it was a slight towards the Mandalorians that the duke sent a minor noble of his house instead of attending personally, or if this was some kind of power play by the man. With how strong he had been attempting to ply her, there was merit to the latter and to making sure she had her ring on. Though the Corellians had been a little less forward after Sair Halcyon's youngest son made that mistake and realized the consequences of such actions.

As her thoughts spun towards the evening's festivities and that second conference she made sure to dress the part of a woman of her status. Long flowing blue dress with small flecks of Arkanian diamonds to give it enough of a sparkle, she went with a choice design that had a back to it in order to hide the small scar there. The Mandalorians saw it as a badge of honor, as did much of the Enclaves, but she felt it better to avoid it drawing attention and having to tell of that day instead of talking business. Then to keep it rather simple, just a pair of jeweled earrings that fit snugly over the points of her ears and hooked in, just enough ornamentation to look nice but not Corellian. Now that she was prepared and bracing herself for the onslaught, she had but one last thing to look towards.

Just a few moments later and she was in her sister's room, the bright colors and plentiful decorations seeming more like a child's room than one of the more prominent consulars of the Enclaves. A scattering of lightsabers lay across a table, the ones she tended to keep on her for that rare occasion when someone felt like sparring with her. Holocrons were in varied states of viewing, one of them still on as if left in the middle of activity, but as she looked towards the bacta tank in the corner of the room, that was most likely. Mirasena floated there in the solution, a visor across her face that was specially built for submerged use, her normal blindfold laying on the end table next to the tank. Her Miralukan genetics cursed her with a lack of eyes, so she adopted that tradition from them, but still as Solace entered the room she slowly followed her path as if able to see her anyways. A hand placed against the glass from one side, met with another on the other side. It always hurt to see her sister like this, trapped by her own unraveling genetics and unable to use her own abilities to free herself from that curse. But their connection was stronger than ever, and just being there with her allowed her to find her resolve once more and commit to what needed to be done.

Cin Vhetinla'braar // The Hall of Kings // Mandalore - Afternoon

The three women walked slowly along the hall, the one leading offering an explanation of the figures depicted in the murals to the one at her side with enough detail to give an understanding but not so much as to dominate the conversation. Though considering it was most of the reason for her visit… Elara Renkar did not mind an extended history lesson from her Arkanian guide. "And here is Cin Drallig, who in his defense of the Jedi Temple secured the evacuation of some four hundred younglings who went on to become members of the Alsakani Judicials, the Enclaves and even your Shadow Council. For his defiance in the face of overwhelming odds alone, the Mandalorian Elders decreed him worthy, but it was his leadership of the remaining Temple Guard and the footage of him deflecting turbolaser bolts that made the nomination of a Fallen King ironclad."

Behind them only one of the Empress' guard was with them, the Kaleesh Walks-Like-Thunder maintaining a respectable distance to allow them to converse more privately. And ahead was Cedthos, a particularly large but awkward Deathwatch operative. The only other one accompanying them in the hall was the third woman, a rather slight Arkanian that seemed to cower at every glance from her counterpart, and more fearful of her own shadow than any real threat. That was the one person that Solace found more distasteful than any Corellian, and it was almost palpable the tension restrained beneath the surface. But she was a skilled diplomat, and she kept it hidden, even allowed the conversation to drift towards a topic she would have rather avoided.

"So, Elara." The two of them were familiar enough over the last few hours and their previous correspondences that she didn't even attempt with referring to the Empress as her grace. "I understand that one of your New Imperials won the Keldabe River-Run, and by a fair bit as well." It had been a rather surprising upset, but to the keener eyes that Imperial pilot had been nipping at the heels of her Mandalorian opponent the entire race through sheer natural talent. Where the race turned in her favor ended up being a rather harsh turn that forced pilots to slow down to a near crawl or find themselves either splashed against the canyon walls or turned to soup in their cockpit. Somehow that kid had actually slammed into higher gear and hung a high-g maneuver that left the crowds stunned as she left a scorch mark across the hewn stone and screamed across the finish line with time to spare.

"Ah yes, that one." The Empress returned, a slight hint of amusement there as she recalled the moment of victory and surprise as a mere girl of 16 had managed to win against pilots sometimes three times her age. But there had been a moment of true camaraderie between her and the Mandalorian pilot as they shook hands and exchanged congratulations, at least until the Imperial was ushered off to be evaluated by Imperial medics. "Nova, I believe. One of our best pilots, though yours gave her a run of it up until the end. Sanri worked with her personally for her formative years, didn't you?" A slight tremor gripped the other Arkanian as both women looked towards her, feeling pinned to the spot by the presence of both her own Empress and the diplomat of one of the foremost military powers in the galaxy. "Y-y-y-yes, m-my Empress." Sanri stumbled through her reply, but halted when a blue hand settled on her shoulder and eased her forward and supported her. "W-well, Nova is one of mine, yes… Though I had a hand in training all of them to some degree."

"The New Imperials are all allowed to choose their own paths early on, this one's passion led her towards piloting and starship design." She hesitated for a moment, lingering on a thought before once more she was spurred onwards to explain. "In truth, they are the future of the Empire. More than just the next generation of those born in the safety and security of the Empire, and more than just the most skilled and gifted in combat, but in everything that will be needed going forward. The New Imperials will not just be the striking arm of the Empire, but the backbone in the way administrators building better ways to govern more effectively on our countless worlds with a mind for efficiency and the well-being of their citizens. Scientists will lead us to becoming the bleeding edge of advanced technology, and engineers will build us everything from better, safer starships to everyday conveniences for all other Imperials. One day the average citizen in the Empire will be able to pursue their dreams as the New Imperials pave the way to that new tomorrow…"

Sanri trailed off as Solace scowled at her, feeling shame at the woman's enthusiasm for such a thing, and reminded once more of why she saw herself as more Mandalorian than Arkanian.
"They're children." She said simply, noting that all of the New Imperials were just 16, and many of them ignorant of what it even meant to be what they were. The very idea of some of them indulging in that first act of freedom and enjoying the festival was a sign of something distasteful to her, but the Empress was quick to intervene and shift the conversation, which she was thankful for.

"As I understand it, some have remarked of you being more Mandalorian than others here, which is curious to some like myself."
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet