Junction Allegiances - Empire/Enclave Junction

[Zlova Rue]

Location: Bridge, UES Requiem

"Fear?" A painted brow rose at Tiber 's remark. The lethan uncrossed her arms to lean forward to ease the trouble of admiring her chest, and fan the fingers of one hand out in the direction of the man's face with a smile curling up the corners of her lips. "I prefer passion. Far better retention rate." Sure, fear, pain, suffering, anger, rage... they all led people to embrace the Dark Side of the Force for various reasons. Most of them blinded the person to everything else around them. Consumed them. Zlova did prefer seduction to all of those, however; people that wanted to be where they were -- comfortable, sated -- were far less likely to be turned or knee-capped later by some Jedi's flowery words.

Zlova straightened up after only a few seconds. Tiber didn't strike her as the desperate sort -- nor had she any use for someone so easily manipulated. If he succumb to lust that easily... yes, she might throw him out the airlock. It'd do the Enclave good to be rid of such rabble.

Then Tiber had something to say about war, which didn't break the Twi'lek's smile in the least. The slightest roll of the shoulders followed. "Same thing, different frame of reference." The Jedi loved their 'points of view' after all. Thought themselves the Masters of the tongue and leaders of the masses. Well, the stereotype of the blood-crazed Sith was a bit overplayed, really. Those of the Light did not have a monopoly on understanding a person's point of view was a power to command in and of itself. Especially to someone like Zlova that had wormed her way into numerous organizations using her appearance and smooth tongue. "Wars are inevitable. Delayed. Relocated. But inevitable, like the return of the Sith." Zlova smiled over at Tiber. She expected he might counter with the Jedi in turn. Both sides just refused to die, in the end.

As for the bridge crew... Honestly, Zlova expected they would find a way to ignore whatever preconceived notion they had about her and Tiber talking. They had jobs to do. Anyone that failed that should be noticed by their Captain and either dealt with or dismissed in her opinion. Which, for the moment, she would keep to herself -- a minor miracle.

"I don't assign edgy monikers to people unless they've earned them," Zlova sighed with a slight wave of her hand. "I enjoy verbally sparing as much as I do severing limbs. Childish name calling is demeaning to everyone involved." Another common expectation of 'edgy' Sith representatives -- a lack of respect or decorum to those they met, especially Jedi. "My name," she began not waiting her turn, "is Zlova Rue." The Twi'lek paused to smirk. "Or, as I like to say: Zlova if you love me, Rue if you hate me. I'll tell you my other name, if you promise to tell me yours." Tiber had a name for his Dark persona, hadn't he? Mmm, someone that straddled the fence usually tried to pretend they didn't, but almost everyone did. How could you be a self-respecting Avatar of Evil and Destruction with a name like Fluffy or Brightson? New name, new you, as the saying went.

Near: Vemric Keldra | Tiber
Far: Verin Oldo | Balt Vizsla | Tae'l Vizsla | Venari Krayt | Minerva Fhirdiad
Wherever You Are: Enclave & Imperials in Space

 

[Ruaridh Aodh]

Location: Aboard the Harkenfang
Allies: Aisling Dvale / Leandra Brax / Hal Vaiken
Foes: Tae'l Vizsla / Venari Krayt / Mattali Omenza
Equipment: In Bio

​

"Guard duty....seriously, LT?" A voice chirped in his ear over the comlink in his Prowler suit's helmet.

"That's right, Corporal. Keep yer eyes peeled," Ruaridh replied, a hint of mirth in his stern tone as he lead his small four-man squad about the corridors of the Harkenfang, the mainline Valiant-class cruiser he and part of STRIDER Company had been assigned to for the duration of the diplomatic talks on Kestri, homeworld of the Mandalorian Enclave. Ruaridh's Viperwasp-pattern rifle was held loosely in his hands, named after a long-lost flame back on Galidraan III that the Second Lieutenant's squad constantly pestered him about, but which he had never revealed.

"You never know what madness we'll find in these ship hallways, some ae the tight-arses might leave their sticks lying around," the owner of the first voice, cheery Private Horun that had survived the chaos in Malidris with her sanity relatively intact.

"How would they stay vertical?" Ruaridh said, earning a bark of laughter from Horun.

"Trip hazards are one of the top causes of accidents aboard star destroyers, you know," chimed in Eagin, the third soldier of Ruaridh's squad, a freshly-minted Private straight out of STRIDER training and with none of the combat experience his core ex-death trooper soldiers had gained on Sycorax IV and a dozen other battlefields. Ruaridh was glad to see his company growing, especially given the terrible losses they'd suffered on Iridonia, but he couldn't help but worry about the efficacy of these new troopers. They were all capable of excelling during training exercises and mental aptitude examinations, but Ruaridh had refused to approve any of them for implantation of the SpinalTap until they had proven themselves in combat. Augmented or not, he expected the recruits to be able to keep up with his troopers during battle or they would be tossed out to some other special operations command - maybe SCAR would take them in. The bionic did not make STRIDER's soldiers the efficient, brutal troopers that they were, it merely enhanced their natural instincts and talent at making war upon enemies of the Empire.

"Seriously LT, who'd ye piss off at that bloody gala, or whatever it was, back on Bastion to wind up getting this crap of a posting on guard duty?" Horun said bitterly, but Ruaridh could almost see the wide smile from behind her helm despite him taking point in the patrol. There were only a few among STRIDER company brave enough to tease their Second Lieutenant that way, but given what Horun and Ruaridh had seen and gone through on Iridonia, she'd more than earned the right.

"Easy with the lip, Private, or you'll be on latrine duty instead, praying to whichever God unlucky enough to have you as a follower that you could go back to stoating down boring, empty ship decks," Ruaridh said, a wry smile at the corner of his lips. He caught Horun's scoff as he lead the patrol round a corner and stepping out into a large hangar, bustling with all kinds of preparatory activity Ruraridh could only guess at the meaning of. "Let's take a lap, see if we can't spook any of these starch-arses." With that, he set off at a casual, ambulatory pace round the vast hangar, earning a number of awkward, curious, uneasy glances from the naval personnel. Maybe they could amuse themselves, somehow.

 

[Kanollic II Vethres]

Kanollic II watched very intently as the other members of the Imperial Delegation arrived in the form of Adera Vellas [Moff of Tamaisy], Marcus Bastion [Moff of Yavin IV], and Ignacious Korvan [Grand Moff & Grand Admiral] and began to interact with some interesting members within the meeting hall in the form of Runi Kuryida and Braxton Holst who exchanged greetings and other things that deserved little attention at this time from him at least.

The most important people at the discussion table would be Lord-Regent DECEASED Erskine Barran and Warmaster Romul Saxon as the leaders of their respective factions. The Mandalorian Enclave would be a dangerous enemy to have in the long game due to the Mandalorian ability to survive anything thrown their way. The Empire could begin an offensive campaign and raze worlds but that would do little to stop the mandalorians from simply moving to another location and becoming quite a big nuisance. COMPNOR'S Main Directive at this meeting would be to maintain diplomatic relations with the mandalorian enclave and spread the ideology of the New Order. But that second objective would be tough with the so called "Mandalorian Way" so ingrained within the hearts and minds of it's people.

Kanollic was intent to avoid direct conversation with anyone at this time and focus on crafting a pre-set conversation plan along with counter arguments. Although the unsettling nature of this meeting was the fact that two fleets were in orbit ready to strike out at each other before diplomacy could even begin to start.

​

 

[Leandra Brax]

Post Count: Three
Objective: Stand Off (Will add art later)
Tags:
Friendlies: Aisling Dvale Ruaridh Aodh Velran Kilran Castor E-196
Enemies: We Shall See

Spoiler: Harkenfang

NIV Harkenfang-Shields 100%/Hull 100%

Leandra glanced over her shoulder at the approaching Commander, one eye taking in Hal Vaiken before she turned her gaze back out the viewport. The soldier offered up a datachip, part of his regular security procedure, and it was quickly taken by a waiting ensign to be plugged into a terminal and logged for full analysis and after actions reports. It was tedious work, but such was the way with military matters. Redundancy and monotony were what built a successful military force, and only fools would think such things a waste. Combat victory was only achievable through careful preparation and analysis.

Something the Commander was no doubt aware of himself.

Commander Hal Vaiken of SCAR squad, an elite unit of soldiers deployed when the Empire needed a mission done correctly without the potentiality of failure. They had seen extensive combat operations across numerous worlds according to the reports Leandra had read. She had made sure to secure as many such documents the moment she had been made aware of the squads partial deployment to her ship. She did not like unknowns, and the capabilities and tendencies of the squad had to be taken into account when Leandra made her tactical plans. While only part of the squad was on board the Harkenfang, they served as a key force multiplier.

She expected the Commander to depart after delivering his report, but the man did not leave. He spoke up, something Leandra had half been expecting. From his reports, the man was rather vocal for a man in his position, and while some officers might look down upon that breach in the unspoken laws of authority, Leandra respected it. To a degree. Hal asked if Leandra thought anything was out of the ordinary, and she turned to look at the Commander for a silent moment before glancing back out at the situation beyond the viewport.

Along Imperial lines, new ships were beginning to exit from micro jumps, assuming battle positions as befitted the size and tonnage of the craft. Leandra had to fight the annoyance she felt from rising to the surface at the sight, and her hands tightened into fists behind her back before she forced them to relax. This was a diplomatic meeting, one of the highest priority. The leaders of the Empire had been brought to this world, and a certain level or refined dignity should have been expected for the escort delegation. This kinds of maneuvers while certainly impressive to a degree were far too flashy and showy for the kind of task that was at hand.

Her eyes traveled out to the Mandalorian fleet, hazel eyes marking and tracking each ship, running it through a memorized deployment in her head to see if any of the ships had moved positions since she last checked. They were far too close for her liking. It would take a startling small amount of time for missiles or boarding pods, the greatest threat when it came to Mandalorians in space she thought, to cross the gulf between fleets. She would have preferred a full deployment of interceptors and picket corvettes to be interspaced between the capital ships and the enemy fleet, but such a thing would be almost demanding combat.

The Triumvirate had put the Imperial fleet out to dry in the face of the Mandalorians, all in the name of keeping the peace. How many lives might be lost today because of that single decision?

When Leandra finally spoke, her words were cold and calculating, lacking any emotion to them. “There is plenty out of the ordinary, Commander.” She turned to face him fully then, her gaze locking with his for several moments before she turned to look back out the viewport. “But out of the ordinary situations are why you are here, isn’t it?”

​

 

[Zorah Fel]

Kestri: Tor Valum
Sector 2: The Ravine | Warden Quarter
Allies: Katja Javik | Jorus Fel | Kav Canthar
Enemies: Shai Maji | Todblaz Graker | Thonn Rokkal | Alora Vizsla

​

Zorah eyed her brother with all the disdain one might eye a particular juicy roach stuck to the heel of their boot. She took her time answering him, letting the silence linger long past merely uncomfortable.

"I was invited to observe the discourse." She looked him up and down. "And you're here to guard a landing pad."

The day was bright and crisp, a brisk wind sweeping down through the mountains to thread the streets. Her squadron from STF-141 was on the planet as well, waiting in the wings should SCAR squadron require an extraction. Using a political summit as a smokescreen to steal sensitive information. But such was politics. Personally, she found them reprehensible. Yet, she had to learn the game nonetheless, if she truly meant to rise.

”HOLD IT!”

She turned her head to the sound-- further down the lane, a pair of disguised SCAR troopers had fallen under suspicion. That's the Wardog. After llum and her near assassination of Erskine Barran, the Sangnir's face had been plastered over Imperial bulletins everywhere. And the Wardog wasn't alone. Zorah glimpsed other Mandos ingering at the fringes of the intersection, idling on street corners and beneath store awnings, hands lingering near their weapons.

The disguises were too distinct by Mandalorian customs. This entire operation was a foolish idea from the start. She kept her distance, watching the unfolding confrontation with narrowed eyes. Had the talks even begun? Whatever cover story the troopers had come up with, it didn't seem to be working. She glanced back at her brother and his 'squad'. 'Bookie', they called him.

She'd rather have her purge troopers.
​

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi Kuryida's features didn't so much as twitch as the Imperial delegates stepped forward and introduced themselves.

One of their number, Marcus Bastion , was more outgoing than others present. Her hazel eyes turned toward him and she afford him a bow appropriate for their stations. "Where one Clan is strong, many are stronger. So too is it with allies," she responded in the same hope their people could work together.

Once the Grand Moff indicated they were prepared to depart, the Speaker gave the slightest of nods before she turned in place to lead the escort. No insult was taken by the man's tone. If they were ready to proceed, then why stand there any longer? She certainly wasn't there to practice being a politician and expected the man to show deference or a saccharine disposition toward her.

After they arrived in the place of discourse, the Shaman remained as Braxton Holst eagerly welcomed their visitors. After all, Runi had not participated as merely a butler to ferry people to and fro. She might not represent a planet, but her interest for the welfare of the Mandalorian people could not be understated.

Her eyes slid from that of Ignacious Korvan to Marcus Bastion as each expressed a sort of surprise at Braxton's introduction. Marcus, of course, was a touch more 'diplomatic' in his phrasing. Not that Runi cared. Nor likely many Mandalorians for that matter, but Braxton -- as noted -- was not Mandalorian.

Yet. Runi taught all souls were Mandalorian -- most just hadn't realized it yet. There was always the next life, but it would be better to come to that self-realization sooner than later.

"The Enclave was established by the Mandalorians and expanded its reach into surrounding regions for stability and security," the Shaman spoke calmly from beside the two parties. "While the Mandalorian Head of State does possess a certain overarching authority on matters in sectors under our protection, the Enclave believes that the people of each planet or system should govern their own affairs. Though it is asked they contribute to the security of the whole." Which would likely be the politest description they might hear about the arrangement. Especially if Romul Saxon hadn't read or understood Runi's advice after a recent internal introduction that preceded the Quartermaster's passing.

A small smile graced Runi's lips as her eyes swept over the others present. "Please, while everyone is gathering, make yourselves comfortable. Food and drink is available." She stepped a bit to the side and gestured to a table where refreshments were laid out. Nothing worse than a diplomatic meeting where you 'discussed' vital matters on an empty stomach or with parched lips. It might also afford a few Imperials the opportunity to break away from what they might feel as an awkward moment between the Grand Moff and Braxton. There would be plenty of other dignitaries and representatives for them to meet, after all.

Ignacious Korvan | Marcus Bastion | Kanollic II Vethres | Adera Vellas | Romul Saxon | Braxton Holst | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Open​

 

[Braxton Holst]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
ENCLAVE: Runi Kuryida | Romul Saxon
EMPIRE: Marcus Bastion | Ignacious Korvan | Kanollic II Vethres | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Adera Vellas

Braxton couldn’t help but notice the surprise in each Imperial’s features as they entered and took note of his presence. It wasn’t much of a surprise, he would have had the same reaction if he came to the Mandalorian homeworld and didn’t deal with the Mandalorians. Luckily Runi was there to represent her people.

”Yeah, him! Ol’ Barry and I go way back.” He quipped with a bright smile, surprisingly sincere this time. The man went on to introduce himself as Ignacious Korvan, Grand Moff and grand admiral of the Imperial fleet. The name stood out to the Director immediately, someone worth keeping an eye on, though he didn’t get an opportunity to comment on it as the Grand Moff’s colleague spoke up.

"Representative Holst. It speaks well of the Enclave that they acknowledge the citizens of the territory who are non Mandalorian, while still adhering to the traditions of their society and culture."

"I hope that despite the differences between our own cultures we can reach a similar level of understanding."

Runi began and Braxton’s head turned somewhat to listen to the Shaman. Once she concluded, he gave a nod as his smile returned. ”Precisely.” He looked at Korvan and his associates. ”It’s better to work together towards a better future than it is to waste our time slinging turbolaser bolts back and forth.” He commented with a calm voice as his gaze shifted to each of them. ”After all… what’s the saying again? Whiskey has killed more men than blasters, but we’d all rather have a belly full of whiskey than a belly full of blaster bolts. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer a good drink with good company.” His eyes lingered on Bastion for a moment, studying the young officer.

“I must admit, Mr. Holst; You are not what I expected upon our arrival.”

“I assumed the Enclave ruled by fiat as opposed to actual ‘non-Mandalorian’ representatives. I... recognize the name though. Would I know you from somewhere else?”

His gaze shifted back to Korvan for a moment. ”Well, I have been recently elected as the new president of Christophsis. Though you most likely know me as the Director and owner of the company ‘Hex Incorporated’. We supply a great deal of raw materials and other necessities to the Empire, including the aid of my company’s private military in Imperial engagements.” He explained to the man as he took a sip of caf. They didn't need to know about his new dabbling in the Alliance Senate. That would probably not help the situation.

Runi invited them all to some food and drink, earning a wave to the refreshments from the Director. ”That sounds like a heavenly idea, Speaker Kuryida. And after we get our refreshments, why don’t you start the meeting for us, Grand Moff Korvan? We are all curious to hear what grievances you all have in regards to the Enclave’s presence.” He offered, waiting for his guests to move first. Though there was no illusion that they wouldn’t think of this meeting as unorthodox.

 

[Shai Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
ALLIES: Enclave | Todblaz Graker | Alora Vizsla
ENEMIES: The Empire
ENGAGING: Katja Javik | Zorah Fel | Jorus Fel | Kav Canthar
GEAR: In bio

THE MARK HAS BEEN MADE​

A look of escalating horror spread along the Wardog’s features behind her visor as she listened to the big one speak up, trying to explain some sort of story in what was likely the most broken Mando’a she had ever heard in her life. The Imperial accent certainly didn’t help.

"Don't mind him. My brother was dropped on his head as a baby."

”I think your brother is busy having a stroke.” She spoke with a deadpan voice as her visor studied the two. The girl continued, backing up the big one’s story. But Shai wasn’t budging anytime soon. ”I think you need to get your hearing checked, sis. I said you two are comin’ with me. I ain’t askin’.” She stated again.

From behind her visor, Shai spied Tod peeking out of the bar to see what was going on… but a far more familiar suit of armour stood in the shadows, watching the events unfold. A smile formed at the sight of Alora. An idea popped into her head as she watched the two stooges in front of her.

”Gar kar'taylir meg? Juha gar aliit. Rejorhaa'ir etid at urcir mhi olar.” Shai spoke in clean Mando’a as her grip tightened around her pistols. She wanted to make a point. She was just about ready to draw and fire on them, all she needed was final proof of what was going on.

 

[Katja Javik]

THE EMPIRE
IMPERIAL SPECIAL FORCES
ALLIES: Kav Canthar | Zorah Fel | Jorus Fel
ENGAGING: Shai Maji | Alora Vizsla | Todblaz Graker
Equipment: Sons of Mandalore Beskar'gam, other Mando stuff like whipcord and stuff

The tension was palpable as the Mandalorian continued to insinuate that she knew the pair were impostors and reiterated her order for them to accompany her. It wasn't unexpected that their endeavours today would land them in hot water. Realistically, there was only so long they could have gone without getting caught and it seemed that they had reached the limit.

Still, she remained calm throughout the encounter. "I hope he is. Maybe it'll reverse the brain damage from when he was dropped on his head." She responded, not taking the situation too seriously.

After being addressed in the clearly unfamiliar language, she sighed and admitted defeat. "Well, we tried." She told her companion, confirming their status as outsiders.

​

 

[Kav Canthar]

R A N C O R
THE EMPIRE
KESTRI | TOR VALUM
ALLIES: Katja Javik | Lily Stevens | SCAR + EMPIRE
ENEMIES: Shai Maji
ENGAGING: Shai Maji + OPEN
GEAR: Sons of Mandalore Beskar'gam | Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon | TL-50 Heavy Repeater
C-10 Heavy Blaster Pistol | Phase-Knife | Grenade loadout

Rancor was happy with himself.

His Mando'a wasn't great, but he felt the attempt at been pretty decent, right up until Spectre said he had been dropped on his head.

What.

And brother, at that.

But, not one to be caught off-guard, Rancor began to nod his helmeted head repeatedly.

<<"Yeah, got dropped good,">> His modulated voice said, even as the intercepting Shistavanen donned the helmet and claimed Rancor was having a stroke. He muttered. <<"That's not nice.">>

Then the Mandalorian - the sentient known as the wardog, based on alerts, if Rancor wasn't mistaken - said a whole lot in Mando'a. The tall Ragithian sighed inwardly, as he just casually blinked, within the helmet. He understood less than half, could pronounce less than that, but he felt he had a good idea of what was said...

Something about knowing honor to family, calling them for drinks to meet.

Rancor was about to respond, when Spectre spoke again, about brain damage. He didn't mind, it probably helped their efforts, especially if the Shistavanen believed the tall one was just plain ol' dumb. Wouldn't have been the first time someone assumed that. Wouldn't be the last. Yet, Spectre then sighed and admitted the effort was in vain.

<<"Fine.">>

With a shrug, Rancor launched a sudden punch at the Shistavanen that had ruined all the plans, with the force of a sentient that could physically lift a speeder - and who was assisted by a body clad in beskar. Not many could withstand that kind of impact, but beskar'gam were wondrous items that allowed for all kinds of feats, so Rancor didn't assume he had ended it with one hit.

Rancor unslung his TL-50 from his side and gripped the weapon in both hands.

<<"Was a boring conversation anyway.">>

The Imperial trooper took aim and began to charge a concussive blast, as the rifle began to whine with power...

 

[Romul Saxon]

W A R M A S T E R
​

Objective: Treat with the Empire
Enclave: Runi Kuryida | Braxton Holst
Imperial: Marcus Bastion | Ignacious Korvan | Kanollic II Vethres | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Adera Vellas

The Quartermaster was dead.

She who had guided the Enclave since its founding, since before even Romul had been brought to its safe shores. She whose wisdom and perseverance had turned a ragged covert into a thriving Mandalorian state and a rising Galactic Power. But now she had been murdered by Darth Mori, heiress to the throne of the Sith. And around her carcass flew vultures of all banners and creeds.

Romul Saxon entered the hall without fanfare, flanked on either side by two Si'kayha commandos. The grand meeting room was carved in ornate yet spartan Mandalorian fashion, with wide windows that let in the light from the central ravine of Tor Valum into the chamber. A circular table was the centerpiece of the room, and at its head was the modestly-carved throne that the Quartermaster had sat on in life. At its base stood a simple chair made from Grulyr Cebatr wood.

It was this simple seat that Romul chose, a display of uncharacteristic humility from the Warmaster. He did not aspire to be the Quartermaster's replacement. No one truly could be. Out of respect for the Quartermaster's insistence on refraining from showing favoritism to one clan, he had eschewed his traditional Clan Saxon honor guard for one comprised of Si'kayha commandos of all clans and heritages.

"Please, be seated," he said gruffly, almost politely as he beckoned with a hand towards the empty chairs. Several serving droids moved forward with flasks of Tihaar for Mandalorians present and milder Corellian ale for those who weren't inclined to the strong drink. With the alcohol came chunks of soft brown bread, near tasteless but hardy fare. Mandalorians were not a people for fancy cuisine and much like everything else, their fare was simple and practical. "We have gathered here today to discuss the incident over Ilum." He stated plainly.

 

[Vren Rook]

ALLIES: Runi Kuryida | Volo Dragr | Braxton Holst | Romul Saxon
GREY AREA: Ignacious Korvan | Kanollic II Vethres | Marcus Bastion | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Adera Vellas |
GEAR: In Bio

INTO THE COALS​

Trading desert for snow.

Vren had rushed over from Tatooine to Kestri at the behest of Volo Dragr . "If I have to sit there, so would you, partner." And to think, not too long ago the two of them had talked about the dreariness of politics and how to stay out of it.

Nag wasn't even in a hangar. She still stood outside in the blizzard as the Karjr strode into the council building, pulling his helmet from his head as he went. His rocket boots echoed with a metallic clink as he made his way to the meeting room.

He was late.

And if he knew anything about Volo, he'd be even later. Something about Guildmaster duties.
<Might want to hurry up, partner.> he told Volo over his wrist-comms just before he stepped into the meeting hall, where he was just in time to see Romul Saxon making his way to the meeting as well. With no Quartermaster.

It was still surreal that she was dead.

A slight crease appeared between his brows and around his eyes. He didn't know how he felt about the Warmaster heading this meeting, yet here they were.

"Apologies for my lateness, gentlemen..." he nodded before touching two of his fingers to his temple as if tipping an imaginary hat. "...ma'ams." he told the two ladies within the room, one of them being Runi Kuryida . He didn't exactly enjoy the situation the Enclave found itself now after it decided to side with the Alliance, but it was no use cryin' over spilt milk. He looked back at Romul.

"Please, be seated."

At least he tried to be cordial.

"Shall we, friends?"

Move your hide, Dragr.

 

[Todblaz Graker]

Outfit | Ranger Armor
Equipment | HX-Revolver ; Cortosis Gloves
Allies | Gwyneira Krayt ; Juno Wren ; Grendel Krayt
Allies In Engagement | Alora Vizsla ; Shai Maji
Enemies | Koda Fett ; Hal Vaiken ; Lily Stevens ; Shai Maji
Engaging | Katja Javik ; Zorah Fel Kav Canthar

Truly an odd thing this galaxy was, or such the nature of the beings of it. Fighting wasn't at the top of Todd's to do list, he actually despised it because it posed a risk to him. It would be a lie to say that others wellbeing really mattered to him during life-and-death situations, as instincts put him first. Though it appeared he was about to be dragged into a scuffle. Maybe he should've walked the other way, only time would tell.

He had zero clue of the importance of the individuals she was yelling at nor who they were. The Wardog said some stuff in Mandalorian according to Todd's HUD. though the display decided not to translate it for whatever reason, probably poor craftsmanship. The situation seemed to tense up as the big one threw a punch.

Todd didn't even see if it hit or not, didn't really matter to him. Instinctually, the doctor pulled up his revolver and pointed at the man. The weapon was filled with five slugs and one explosive, whichever one was came next would be left up to chance. Though his first round was a slug. He aimed at the large man's fingers, firing. His goal was to either sever the man's phalanges or damage the weapon.

 

[Ignacious Korvan]

Grand Moff Korvan

Objective: I - Honor Bound
Location: Diplomatic Landing Pad - Tor Valum
Tags:

THE EMPIRE: Kanollic II Vethres | Marcus Bastion | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Siyndacha Aerin | Open (Any Imperial dignitaries may accompany Korvan on his shuttle)

​

THE ENCLAVE: Runi Kuryida | Romul Saxon | Braxton Holst | Vren Rook Open

​

It was not lost upon Ignacious what Moff Bastion was doing, with his overtly placating and... bleating like a sheep so as to assuage any perceived offense the Enclave representatives before them may or may not have taken. He noted the Moff’s attempts however, and did not fault him for it. Different approaches had their value of course - to a point.

After Moff Bastion stepped over to the other Moff in their party, Vellas; Korvan was more than content to allow them to have their little exchange - whatever it was they said. The Grand Moff made eye contact with Commissioner Vethras, giving him a slight nod of recognition and acknowledgement before much else happened.

"The Enclave was established by the Mandalorians and expanded its reach into surrounding regions for stability and security..."

Korvan’s attention was briefly redirected to Runi as she spoke up in response, taking on an air of appraisal as she continued.

"While the Mandalorian Head of State does possess a certain overarching authority on matters in sectors under our protection, the Enclave believes that the people of each planet or system should govern their own affairs. Though it is asked they contribute to the security of the whole."

Despite the expressionless (if not mildly dour) appearance of Korvan’s face, internally he could not help but feel amused by her response. ‘It would seem they are more like us than they care to admit...’ He thought to himself. While not everyone agreed with him (as evidenced by some of the other Imperial delegates present), Korvan was of the mind that the illusion of freedom was in and of itself a useful tool of manipulation. The Empire employed such a strategy with newly incorporated worlds, until they inevitably fell under the machinations of COMPNOR.

Even though the Speaker’s description at first brought a sense of similarity to the Grand Moff, he could not help but draw a concurrent likeness to the Galactic Alliance. They more or less weaponized the concepts of ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’ to their advantage, only to empower the Chancellor and the upper echelons of their society. While not so different from the Empire, where they diverged was quite simple - they fooled themselves into thinking they were different, and noble; while the Empire was seemingly ‘corrupt’ and ‘misguided’. He could not help but sense the same level of delusion within the shaman before him.

But of course, it would not do to voice such thoughts. Korvan was harsh and direct, but he was not stupid - despite the misgivings of his companions. It was then that Braxton spoke up to address the Grand Moff’s comments.

”Well, I have been recently elected as the new president of Christophsis. Though you most likely know me as the Director and owner of the company ‘Hex Incorporated’. We supply a great deal of raw materials and other necessities to the Empire, including the aid of my company’s private military in Imperial engagements.”

“I see.” Korvan noted casually. “I see indeed...” Korvan had a suspicion, but thankfully Mr. Holst was all too willing to confirm his suspicions. An Enclave official, supplying raw materials to the Empire? The same raw materials he was likely using to supply his personal ‘Project Halo’ initiative. That simply would not do. The Grand Moff made a mental note to look into the matter when he returned to Imperial space, regardless of what transpired today. He was not in the habit of being vulnerable for long once a weakness was exposed...

The mention of refreshments had been made, of which Korvan cast a glance over the table passively. If the others wished to partake, that was their prerogative. As for him - he would wait. Instead, the Grand Moff’s attention was fully engaged upon Mr. Holst’s next words.

”That sounds like a heavenly idea, Speaker Kuryida. And after we get our refreshments, why don’t you start the meeting for us, Grand Moff Korvan? We are all curious to hear what grievances you all have in regards to the Enclave’s presence.”

“That is likely for the best...” He began: “The Lord Regent’s condition is not what it once was... ever since Ilum.” If people thought the previous exchange between Holst and Korvan was awkward, they would be in for a rude awakening from the dream land they lived in; one where politics were flowery and delicate lest the feelings of those partaking blow away in the summer wind. While he was not oblivious to the need for tact, the Grand Moff was not a man who minced words when the situation demanded it.

Before much else could be said, two figures entered the room. The first would be the reported head of state of the Enclave ever since the death of the Quartermaster - Romul Saxon. Korvan only knew the man by reputation; said reputation being that of a fierce warrior who had fought across a myriad of battle theaters. Judging from his bearing, and the way in which his presence changed the entire tone of the room; he was not a man to be underestimated.

Then, a second figure - a man Korvan did not recognize, rushed in. He appeared a bit out of place for a state meeting, but given how the whole affair had proceeded thus far, the Grand Moff wasn’t surprised. In short order, it would seem as though the summit would commence - with or without Erskine Barran.

"Please, be seated,"

"Shall we, friends?"

Out of respect for the fact this meeting was taking place within the man’s domain, and in consideration for the ruffian who arrived late, Korvan took a seat at the table as bidden - indicating for the others in his party to do the same. While the Grand Moff was more than capable of leading the discussions from the Empire’s side of the table, the fact that Erskine was running late was not... ideal, given Romul’s eventual arrival. Nonetheless, Korvan was not going to allow the proceedings to run away from them by virtue of being rushed through them. The Grand Moff would surreptitiously drop a seltzer pill into the water, designed to change color if major toxins were mixed within it. After waiting a few moments, and noting nothing; he grasped the class and took a small sip to clear his throat.

It wasn’t long after that, that Romul spoke again.

"We have gathered here today to discuss the incident over Ilum."

The Mandalorian’s voice was rather direct and to the point, of which Korvan would mirror perfectly.

“You are correct.” Ignacious’ eyes would meet that of their host, maintaining the same dispassionate demeanor he had thusly exhibited with the others. “Although I believe referring to the matter as ‘the incident over Ilum’ is rather simplistic. Incidents would be far more appropriate. Provocations even more so.”

Korvan’s back remained straight; his shoulders and posture perfect as he briefly broke his gaze onto Romul and scanned those gathered at the table, eventually returning back to the Enclave leader. “The attempted killing of our Lord Regent himself being the most grievous of these provocations, who despite my personal recommendation has decided to make the trip here. He’s been moving rather slowly lately, despite your warriors’ best efforts to the contrary. Then there was the wholesale deployment of naval assets against my own forces. While I can understand Mandalorian honor mandating you respond to the Alliance’s feeble call for aid; where was the Enclave when the Alliance meddled in our affairs in the Tion Cluster? Despite our victory over New Alderaan-”

With each passing word, it would seem that Korvan’s tone would grow increasingly severe.

“Ilum was our answer to the Alliance’s aggression; to their slight on our own honor.” The Grand Moff would fall silent, and hold the silence for a moment before he spoke again - this time his tone softened to a near-unsettling degree. “While we appreciate, and do not wish to insult your hospitality in accepting our delegation, Warmaster - which of those incidents does the Enclave wish to answer for first?”

Ignacious’ eyes remained on Romul for a time, only to once again pass across each member of the Enclave delegation in turn - as if awaiting for an acceptable response.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

1st post

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

SHIELD_ONE
LORD-REGENT OF THE EMPIRE
GRAND-TRIUMVIR OF THE TARKINIST ADMINISTRATION
GOVERNOR-CHIEFTAIN OF GALIDRAAN III

Tags
Ignacious Korvan Kanollic II Vethres Marcus Bastion Adera Vellas
Romul Saxon Runi Kuryida Braxton Holst Vren Rook

FATE OF THE REALM V: THE COST OF HUBRIS - PART ONE

GRAND MEETING HALL, WARDEN QUARTER,
TOR VALUM, KESTRI (AUTUMN OF 877 ABY)

'Remember this, Korvan.... If someone had been honest in their assessments, those floors would still be clean.'​

This was the last thing Lord Erskine said to Lord Ignacious over the live feed before cutting it, and though the former was almost certain the latter wasn't listening, it was still understandable with Korvan's predicament considered; though only in part, as there was more to the moments preceding Barran's closing remark, and much more at that.

Under the charges of gross-negligence, friendly-fire and strategic coercion, three of the Ilum Superlaser's chief engineers were to be brought before the Grand-Moff for their final sentencing, though no such preceding legal-processes had been offered for any of them beforehand, just dark, lonely holding cells for as long as it took the Lord-Regent to make his final judgement from the comfort of the other side of the transmitted visual feed. Though through such summons, the real choices would be presented for the one who ordered orbital strike, and as the sword of life and death hung over Lord Ignacious' head, Lord Erskine hoped to find the truth hidden in his subordinate's actions and reactions alike.

Refusing to shoot meant taking full responsibility in the most obvious, irreversible way imaginable, a choice that few in their right mind would have made in Korvan's shoes, as many in Barran's shoes would have had the Grand-Moff killed in place of the engineers in the event of such a self-sacrifice; but the old Woad was different, and likely would have been merciful enough to demote and transfer out his subordinate instead, but it was still impossible for the Grand-Admiral to foresee such things. The Lord-Regent was far too unpredictable, and to the extent that not even Barran himself could have foreseen such a response to the brave option, though deep down he knew that strength was the best option either way, even if it meant murdering men who looked up to his subordinate before that day.

When the first two were shot, the old Woad felt nothing, holding true to his lifelong, ancestrally-permeated disdain for weakness as he heard them both pleading for their lives, playing well into the acquitting turn of the Grand-Moff's tide in what appeared to be the poorly-veiled excuses of guilty culprits. Barran had been watching the entire ordeal in observant silence, making his assessments on Korvan every step of the way, practically on the verge of apologising right then and there; but something happened when the rising star stopped at the third and final,"Culprit.", a reaction that changed Lord Erskine's mind almost immediately, a show of strong, wild-eyed defiance. Spitting in Korvan's face, seemingly wronged for all the hard work he had been putting in until the moment he was arrested, there was no sign of guilt, remorse or horror to be seen, only the loathing fury of a man looking a perceived betrayer in the eye in his last moments.

Even now, I'm convinced he was the only one who didn't belong there....
I know eyes like that, I see them in the mirror every day.​

And just like Korvan, Barran would carry a memory of that scowl with him on his trip to Kestri, though for reasons that differed to those which fuelled the memory in the mind of his subordinate. If turned out the Lord Ignacious was speaking true in the end, this event would forge the legend he was needed to become, fuelling the next phase of the Grand-Moff's quiet rise to prominence; but if the third and last engineer's reaction was to be the truth of the matter in the end, the sneer, the look in the engineer's eyes and the spit of disgust he received would slowly but surely break Korvan instead, slowly driven mad by Ilum and the deaths of men who likely respected him before. Time was all the old Woad had at his disposal, though fortunately for Lord Erskine, he knew it was all that was needed - though choosing to travel to Kestri on Korvan's vessel was done so with the memory of the third engineer in mind.

Brutal is the rule of,"Blood in, Blood out.", but so is the Galaxy.
An' whether I like it or not, Korvan committed to his initiation.... Inner-circle now.​

Received by a local staffer of the Enclave high-command at the spaceport, the guide then politely led Erskine's selected retinue of Elite-Troopers, Imperial Knights and Free-State infantry to the Warden Quarter, and under close watch of armed local Mandalorian elements, the Lord-Regent's hoverchair slowly approached and entered the Grand Meeting Hall with his tigress and Grave-Tusken in tow. Leaving the personal retinue outside to guard the entrance in their leader's absence, the old Woad wouldn't take long to reach the double-doors to the venue of the meeting itself, made all the easier by the courteous guards aiding his entry, opening the doors as Barran approached then crossed the threshold to find Korvan in a verbal back-and-forth with the Enclave delegates. Their new leader had arrived, much to the old Woad's relief, and in seeing that most of the relevant players were present, waited for the right moment to speak instead of interrupting with his opening statements.

Slowly floating into view, the Lord-Regent held to his silence until everyone turned to see who the doors had been opened inward for, holding that silence for another moment or so until he began,'Greetings, ladies an' gentlemen. Excuse my poor time-keeping, though I do aim to be on my feet by this time next year - fat help though that'll be for a while.', briefly cutting himself short to lift himself from the hoverchair into and his allocated seat. Using nought but the rims of the table and of the hoverchair itself, the strength of Lord Erskine's right arm and the convenience of it's cybernetic counterpart made it all the easier for Barran to resume his opening statement, drawling,'Enough with that for now - please continue as you had before.... I'm always quick t'catch up anyway.', as he nestled into his spot at the conference table.

 

[Siyndacha Aerin]

ERRANT HEIR
THE ORDER OF IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
TOR VALUM - KESTRI - ENCLAVE SPACE
Ignacious Korvan | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Marcus Bastion | Kanollic II Vethres | Adera Vellas
Romul Saxon | Runi Kuryida | Braxton Holst | Vren Rook

​

Setting foot on Kestri, in the capital of Tor Valum, wasn’t a thing that had ever entered her mind until now, and to be part of the diplomatic outfit for this meeting was a far different battlefield than what she had encountered on Iridonia; it was likely only to infect her thoughts with a great many considerations, rather than impose any force-given effects on her for days afterward as exposure to Sith Magic would do and had done. After stepping off the shuttle and being met by escort, she went along with the Moffs, a considerably younger and far paler face that might have looked out of place by comparison.

As an Imperial Knight-Errant, her concerns were those of the Empire, both at home and abroad, to be certain, but it was who she was that made sense of why she was here, at least in her mind… on Tavlar’s behalf, secondly as a representative of the Knights - one who hailed from a warrior culture, no less - and thirdly, because this should be within her own concerns due to those connections and that one aspect she often held at arms’ length: her titled status.

Fourthly, as far as she considered it - should proceedings go sideways. That potential was always lurking at the back of her mind, and especially so here, keeping her metaphorical finger on the pulse of tension. Observing, listening, as-yet without a single word, silver eyes and keen ears following the bead of conversation as delegates introduced themselves and settled in for what could be hours. Arms folded over her chest, one finger idly tapping at an elbow on occasion. Thinking. Processing.

"Please, be seated."

Siyndacha seated herself as was requested, and though she would have liked to acquaint herself with the Tihaar - for knowledge, if anything else - this was neither the time nor the place for experimentation. Similarly, she eschewed the ale in favour of water; alcohol dulled the senses, after all… never mind that one drink was hardly going to have an effect. This was a foreign realm. She did, however, avail herself of a chunk of the bread.

"We have gathered here today to discuss the incident over Ilum."

She hadn’t been at Ilum, but was plenty aware of the full account from the side of the Empire. Studied much of the information as she did for other operations in the intervening time between the loss of her mentor at Tython and her ascension as a Knight of the Empire in the wake of Ilum. Her metallic gaze went to the Grand Moff as he provided opening statements. Speaking of honour. Laying out grievances.

She followed the shifts in his tone, which said as much as his words, some of these words recalling to her mind the state of the Lord Regent as he was more recently in Ravelin. Ever defiant, despite his physical reality. Speak of the devil - she heard him enter. It was difficult to mistake the sound and workings of a hoverchair as anything else, but she kept her focus on the exchange at hand. Not wanting to distract from it.

“While we appreciate, and do not wish to insult your hospitality in accepting our delegation, Warmaster - which of those incidents does the Enclave wish to answer for first?”

Aerin looked to the delegates of the Enclave, swallowing a bite of the bread, eyeing them until the Lord Regent spoke, pulling her gaze in that direction, leaving her watching as he seated himself. Peering just a little closer than she had at the fortress - he looked a little less worse for wear, she supposed, but he certainly had a ways to go. She could hardly imagine being in the same position.

'Enough with that for now - please continue you as you had before.... I'm always quick t'catch up anyway.'

And yet! He wouldn't be in this state at all if not for… her mouth assumed a line as she turned her attention back to the Enclave delegates, at the old Woad’s insistence that they continue. She was ever so curious as to what they might have to say.

​

 

[Jorus Fel]

T H E _ E M P I R E
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
ALLEGIANCES
SHADOW WAR
ALLIES: THE EMPIRE | "ALLIES": Zorah Fel
To Engage: Whoever Z picks/picked ig

Sympathy for the Devil
​

"Yeah? So why are you here with us... at the landing pad?" he asked, wondering if their father would seethe knowing she wasn't inside with the big wigs. It would be better if he didn't know, but Zorah couldn't help herself from being candid to the absolute.

A commotion down on the streets instinctively placed the thumbs of all stormtroopers on the safety catch of their E-11 blaster rifles. Jorus stepped up closer to his sister, peeking over from behind her.

"What's going on down there?"

The flash and bang of firearms from the streets flicked the safety off the bucketheads' guns and Joker squad moved into defensive positions to secure the landing pad and the immediate area from any threats that may come their way.

Were Mandos killing each other?

That just sounded like another day where Mandalorians were concerned.

But that distinct sound...

"Tee-Ehl?"

"Tee-Ehl." Mantell confirmed his suspicion. The TL-50 heavy repeater, a rifle produced in service for Imperial Special Forces.​

 

[Hal Vaiken]

501st LEGION
IMPERIAL SPECIAL FORCES
SCAR SQUADRON
Leandra Brax Aisling Dvale
To engage eventually: Minerva Fhirdiad

​

One of the benefits of the faceless helmets stormtroopers wore was that they concealed one's facial expressions. Laugh, cry, seethe, hurt -- in service of the His Majesty the Emperor and His Empire none of that mattered. You are His will, His fist against all who stood against progress, peace and order. Behind the veil of the visor, Sarge examined the captain wondering how well -- or not -- was his presence received aboard her vessel. The Navy, he'd come to learn, was extremely rigid and rather obsessed with keeping every single piece under their control. External elements, like Sarge, procured and deployed as an attachment to any vessel, large or small, usually tended to be preceded by silent, or sometimes vocal, grievances by the commanding officer to his own superior.

Whether that was the case with Captain Brax remained unseen by the commander. Calculative and appraising lines were drawn on her face but the conclusion remained a mystery to the SCAR trooper.

"Correct, Captain." he replied, then recalled he never did pass on to her the inspective questionnaire High Command had provided him with. He opted for it verbally next, "How battle experienced is your crew?" an officer of her rank would've seen such questions posed to her during both ad-hoc and scheduled inspections; inspections not usually conducted by someone from the Corps' chain of command but his credentials, as a SCAR operative, had provided him with additional tasks.​

 

[Volo Dragr]

HONOUR BOUND
OBJECTIVE : HONOUR BOUND
ALLIES : Vren Rook | Runi Kuryida | Braxton Holst | Romul Saxon
HOSTILES : Ignacious Korvan | Kanollic II Vethres | Marcus Bastion | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Adera Vellas
- - - - -

<Might want to hurry up, partner.>

<Haste is for the hurried, Rook. I do not wait upon the beck and call of others. Were my presence so vital, they would have come to me.> Volo replied, coolly. While it was true that all of the Enclave's leadership had to step up to fill the void of their Quartermaster, it did not serve to have them all step into the same shoe.

Romul Saxon, the Warmaster, seemed to favour the treachery of politics to the honesty of battle. While unconcerning to most, it meant the world of difference to the Guildmaster. While Vren was, as usual, correct in his assumptions, Volo did not use his duties as an excuse to grow complacent. When he worked, his only distraction was more work.

And when the General plays politician whilst a fleet amasses overhead, certain precautions must be taken. Every available Karjr, not on a permanent assignment, had been recalled to protect their headquarters. Of course, there were exceptions for the black sheep, but they were few and far between as it was. The excess had been strategically placed amongst the Enclave's other components, both in atmosphere and out, constantly reporting even the slightest change.

The Dragr was, however, irrefutably late all the same. Metal legs pounded against the floor as he marched into the conference room. Today, he did not bother hiding his cybernetics; he wore them as a soldier would wear medals. Nor did he hide the blaster at his hip, the bladeless hilt on his belt. Others might take it as a sign of hostility, especially given the dark and domineering stature of the Guildmaster, though it was simply his idea of honesty.

He would not shy away from the ugly truth of the meeting.

His entrance, to Rook atleast, was right on cue. His friendly face was just about the only thing that compelled Volo into attendance. That, and his plain distrust in the Warmaster's ability to lead peace talks, especially against the upper echelon of the Empire; the only reassurance being that he had left the Quartermaster's seat empty.

Finding his seat, he did not immediately sit. Rather, he gripped it by the back with his cybernetic hand, lifting it and placing it down right beside the simple wooden chair the Warmaster had chosen. Finally taking his seat, he offered a single nod as an informal apology for his lateness, rather than interrupt the Grand Moff.

While each of the Empire's delegates, no doubt, held varying levels of fame, Volo was quite the opposite. Indeed, he was wrapped so deeply in secrecy that even his own people, the Warmaster included, did not know even part of his name. This facet was best symbolised by his unmarked armour, dark in colour with a shoulder-cape that ensured even his own shadow was vague. An immediately striking figure that seemed to disappear the more you tried to see him, set apart only by the red outline of his t-visor.

Whilst the gaze of his helmet rested on the speaker, the golden eyes beneath flicked from face to face. While he hadn't had the opportunity to review the files of all possible attendees, or gather a list of attendees for that matter, he recognised the Grand Moff almost instantly. Such a prominent figure whos accusations were, to his credit, so plainly true that there was little Volo could say to refute them.

"Grand Mof-" He started, only to be interrupted by the arrival of the Lord Regent. As the man found his seat, the Dragr offered a respectful nod of his head, in lieu of a formal greeting. "Grand Moff Ignacious Korvan, I presume, and Lord Regent Barran, I would begin by offering you my most sincere apologies, and extending the same on behalf of the Enclave." he continued, voice monotonous but peaking with noble and stoic character. While there was no way to know if his words bore the full weight they claimed, there could be no doubt that he spoke plainly.

"I would also assure you that your delegation are well within their rights to demand answers, and demand audience. The Enclave are not the ones who have been insulted in this matter." A humbling statement, given the Guildmaster's well-known predisposition to self-certainty and patriotism. "It is regrettable that I can not offer further insight into the Enclave's militant affairs, though I would venture to say the Warmaster is more knowledgeable in those matters."

Volo, who had maintained his position with a statue's determination, finally moved his hand from the armrest, gesturing with the cybernetic to the man who sat beside him. "I would recommend that he, first, account for the Enclave's presence and interference in the Battle for Ilum." The shadow, then, turned his full gaze to the Lord Regent, offering yet another respectful inclination of his head; gesturing regally to him with his still-raised cybernetic, to direct the table's attention.

"Lest the Lord Regent would rather question what was, without a doubt, an attempt on his life?" With that, he let his hand return to it's position on the armrest, proverbially yielding the floor.

Somebody had to keep the peace in the delegation, and Volo would be damned if he didn't give it his best.​

​

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Mistakes were made. Well, mistakes happened. Criminal activity happened too. What didn't happen was someone trying to hurt someone Alora liked. Calling her family might be too presumptuous, but Shai and gone through enough -- even if some of it was her own fault by being so gun-ho about everything -- that when someone threw a punch at her they instantly made their greatest mistake.

Alora rocked forward and took one step from the pillar she'd been leaning up against. One step and a twist while her left hand slid up the holstered pistol and drew it; at the same time the right disruptor already in hand fell. Both locked in an optimum pane where two hostiles existed. One barrel was for Katja Javik and one for Kav Canthar .

She'd have trained both on Kav Canthar , but he was in close-quarters range of Shai Maji AKA Wardog who could handle herself in a fight. He needed that TL-50 gripped tight so he didn't feel insecure about himself when it was all done and dusted. 'sides, Todblaz Graker had shown up and seemed focused on Kav already. Alora hadn't wanted his female companion left out of all the excitement.

"Surrender, or head trauma'll be the least of your problems." All they'd officially done was throw a punch at Shai and, well, that wasn't exactly uncommon. So, long as their friends obeyed Alora's friend's commands they could still come out of this nice and limber like. They resisted... well, Mandalorians didn't know how to play softball. That's why Alora carried twin disruptor pistols -- they were excellent at getting a point across.

POYO! Shai Maji | Todblaz Graker | Katja Javik | Kav Canthar
POYO Zorah Fel | Jorus Fel​