Faction Devil You Know | NEO

[Sig Dryggo]

Devil You Know​

Tag(s): Ninurta Slaabur'r | Carduul Akahl | Antipater
Objective(s): Meet with the Enemy

Orbit of Ithor

The darkness of space gave him all the time he needed to think and meditate. Amongst the people he had blended in, his lack of armor was a mask. But here on the Dauntless he wore it once more, feeling more free with the constraint of armor around him than without. For weeks he spent his days traveling between Neo-Crusader worlds to examine their efforts. He was, to say the least, displeased.

While his supposed death had sparked a rise in his own clan’s numbers, and thus the further advancement of his twisted teachings, as a whole the Neo-Crusaders seemed to be stalling. Perhaps it was then that he even considered what he was doing.

Sitting in a small conference room is where he found himself. The room was clean and pristine with not a single molecule of dust present. The air was cold like a museum recently renovated. He sat at one of the chairs present around the long boardroom table. At the center was a large pad for presenting holo-presentations and various data-pads present for note taking.

Sitting in orbit above Ithor was an Imperial leisure station. Sig had received a transmission from a Moff, the last kind of transmission he expected to get. Despite no war being declared, the Neo-Crusaders hadn’t been shy in instigating conflict with the Galactic Alliance. These efforts, it seemed, drew the attention of the aforementioned Moff.

Despite his hatred and his instincts telling him otherwise, Sig knew that the Game required certain sacrifices. One such might be meeting with the enemy. It was a calculated risk though one he was willing to take: even if he walked away with seemingly nothing, he knew he’d truly be walking away with information. The most valuable trade this galaxy of chaos could offer, and he’d have it whether the enemy knew or not.

Regardless he sat there alone in the room, opting not to bring any of his clan with him. He had been waiting for a few minutes now, having been escorted to this room immediately after landing. Whoever he’d be meeting, he was equally anxious and curious to hear what they had to say and or offer.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Carduul disliked visiting places meant for leisure. There was not a lot of room for the word in the lifestyle he had led, of which he promoted others to lead. Leisure would only come when an insurmountable task was finished. For his ilk, that would not come for years - if that.

This entire request reeked of a trap, a dreadful twist of fate he would have to fight his way out of. Others knew where he was, what he was doing. He was only here out of respect for the request itself, and to do his duty to assure the future of his kind. But it was more likely all the Rally Master would be doing would be making a point.

He had no love for the Dark Empire, nor did he particularly wish for that to change. Their Sith felt somehow even more rotten than their kin in the order, though the distinguishing traits made little differences in Mandalorian eyes. Their progenitor, the Maw, had felled The Quartermaster . Without her guidance, the remnants sent themselves crashing headlong into the Alliance unto a glorious end.

She was, in all but name, Mand’alor of her time.

He had stalked the sleek, chrome corridors of the station as he had moved to the location attached in the message. They felt dull, devoid of life, as if too clean for his liking.

Eventually new doors opened, a hiss of hydraulics marking the reveal. The familiar dull crimson armor was recognized as soon as the metal slid away to unveil the room behind.

“You.”

Polearm set into both of his arms. Hefting into stance in preparation.

“What manner of deception is this, Dryggo?”

Sig Dryggo | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Antipater

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

The docking clamps hissed as Ninurta descended from his sleek, weathered starship. His armor, dark with subtle green and bronze accents, bore the scars of countless hunts, and his helmet gleamed faintly under the sterile lights of the Imperial hangar. Around him, the clean lines of polished durasteel and the meticulously arranged ranks of stormtroopers screamed of cold efficiency.

The escort approached—two officers flanked by four silent troopers, helmets betraying nothing but the iron grip of Imperial discipline. Ninurta followed them without a word, his heavy boots echoing against the deck plates in sharp contrast to the polished perfection around him. The dust, grime and fresh blue blood pressed against metal panels with slick silence before watching its remain sense of semblance walk away gracefully. Thump by thump of his boots and the beast master grimaced knowing even now he was marking his territory so to speak.

A celebrated victory that was akin to a Sand panther dying after taking two breaths after seeing its world. Premature. The whine and tune of mouse droids swiveled behind him and cleaning every last speck that fell from the muddy bone encrusted beskar'gam. Ninurta did not turn to watch the rodentia automatons. He wouldn't waste his time with that, instead he resigned to a reeks pride.

"Such a sterile beast," he mused silently, casting his eyes over the corridors. The air held no trace of life, only the faint tang of recycled oxygen and the mechanical hum of efficiency. Here, nature was not merely absent—it had been excised. "Controlled. Tamed. Here they strive for order and banish chaos. Admirable... or foolhardy?" The corridors stretched long and unnaturally clean, devoid of the chaos and vitality Ninurta associated with the wilds. Something else reigned here, a stark contrast to the unpredictable rawness of the jungles he had once stalked. The stormtroopers and officers were unflinching as if they had heard countless comments and insults. Then he was given silence.

He briefly rested a gauntleted hand on the finger holds of his vibroknuckler. The metal and wood was warm from his touch, a reminder of something real amidst the cold sterility of the station. Even now I could...

Then the doors hissed open, revealing a vast chamber with a table of polished black obsidian surrounded by chairs that gleamed under the sterile glow of overhead lights. A viewport dominated one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Ithor's green surface below, a rather annoying reminder of the distance between it and the station's artificial sterility. A sight that perhaphs could of been a relief to contemplate even, if it were not for the gronda in the room. A big red Gronda and the viper.

It was Sig Dryggo and Carduul Akahl . The Falleen turned his visage to the two and tilted his head to one side. The vibroknuckler on his belt now singing with the a unhinged ultrasonic edge. He gripped it tight, but said nothing. Behind his visor the cyan eyes of a serpent glared death.

Tags: Antipater

 

[Sig Dryggo]

His t-visor remained still as always but beneath it Sig was taken aback slightly. The last person he’d expect to walk through those doors was Carduul Akahl followed shortly by Ninurta Slaabur'r . It had suddenly become clear that he wasn’t the only Crusader who was contacted by this Moff. His own inner alarm system began to go haywire: perhaps this was a trap after all, set by either the Moff or his vod. Though he assumed it was the former, as he couldn’t see the latter willingly working with the enemy. At least not to get to him, the Neo-Crusaders had bigger goals in mind, after all.

Taking a quiet and reserved breath, Sig slowly walked around the table till he was adjacent his vod. “Well this is certainly a surprise,” he stated with a hint of sarcasm. “If this is a trap, I gotta say I’m impressed.”

He kept his hands hovering above his holstered pistols but kept them steady. He wouldn’t initiate a fight, not until he had more variables to work with at least. But he was on guard now, more so than he was previously. “Our host seems to think we have some influence among our people,” Sig continued, his tone now trying to defuse the tension that was thick on the air.

“Hakon is gone- MIA- don’t think I died and simply slunk into a cave somewhere. The Neo-Crusaders need leaders,” he raised his hands as a sign of peace before taking a seat at one of the many empty chairs surrounding the table. “So let’s call it a draw and see what this mystery host has to offer, hm?”

Antipater

 

[Antipater]

"Imperial leisure" was an oxymoron, though no one on a government paycheck would ever admit that. The station over Ithor was a cold and austere place, and still brimming with stormtroopers despite its designation. Naval personnel were rotated through these halls when placed on "leave", and were granted some minor creature comforts for the trouble of risking their lives aboard the warlord's ships. Spas, theaters, and cantinas... Acceptable pleasures. If they happened to fraternize and begin the production of future Imperial citizens, all the better.

But there was no fraternization on the Ithor station. Not today. The few naval crew seen milling about gawped at the Mandalorians as they went by or shrunk away. Their small delights had been shut down and made quiet in anticipation of the Moff's guests.

---​

On the other end of the conference room, another pair of doors opened, and Antipater silently entered. The droid moff's movements were stiff and mechanical, hands kept firmly clasped behind the back. A seamless and meticulously pressed Imperial uniform ensured he wouldn't be mistaken for some other sinister, black-plated protocol droid.

"Honored guests," Antipater droned. He stopped to allow the doors to slide shut behind him. "My apologies for the delay."

He had, in fact, been observing them from a camera feed in the other room.

Antipater had selected only three Mandalorian noteworthies to contact. That all three of them had arrived exceeded his expectations. That one of them had apparently faked their death and was now being confronted by another was an unforeseen variable that spoke to some... Gaps in the intelligence his functionaries had collected. No matter. If they asked how he had known Dryggo was alive, he would simply lie. The appearance of vast and inscrutable knowledge was acceptable in lieu of actually possessing it.

They appeared braced for conflict, as Mandalorians often were. Akahl with his polearm and Slaabur'r with a deathgrip on a vibroknuckler. Dryggo himself at least appeared nonplussed. Perhaps Antipater would have been as well if he had been armored in beskar.

He approached the edge of the conference table and flipped a switch on the underside. A hologram of of the galaxy flickered to life: the Galactic Alliance in all its glory, with the Empire and the Neo-Crusader territories pressed against it like a pair of remoras.

The droid continued, "I had hoped to discuss the state of our conflicts with the Alliance. Am I... Interrupting?"

Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r​

 

[Sig Dryggo]

As if it wasn’t surprising enough finding himself in a Dark Empire conference room with Carduul Akahl and Ninurta Slaabur'r , but it would seem the Moff that had invited them was a droid. He titled his head to let his wonder come across to the others before giving a shrug. Personally he had no issue with droids or droids with power, even. The fact the Dark Empire had appointed one as Moff didn't change his overall view of them, but Sig would be lying if it didn’t make him slightly happy.

Still he remained on guard, his hands resting on his holsters despite taking a more relaxed position in the chair; sitting slightly back with his feet kicked out before him.

He eyed his two vod the Moff spoke before the galaxy map cut between them. He didn’t need to see it to know the current score. The Galactic Alliance was holding strong and seemed an impossible foe in comparison to the still growing Neo-Crusaders. Impossible, however, wasn’t in their language.

His t-visor turned towards the Moff, who had just finished speaking. “it’s an inside joke,” he said sarcastically, “you wouldn’t get it.” He didn’t know this Moff but it didn’t matter. He knew that anyone with such a title was aware od the Grand Game being played; the one invisible to most but blindly obvious to those aware of it.

No, Sig believed with every bone in his body that whatever was offered here today would come at a cost. If not now then later. But one way or another it would come back to haunt them.

He leaned forward onto the table, folding his hands as he did so, ensuring his t-visor or gaze ever broke from the Moff. He sat there silently for a brief moment before turning to his vod, his gaze piercing through the galactic map before them, “Who wants to share?”

Antipater

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Carduul's brow furrowed beneath the helm. There were no more words to say to Dryggo that hadn't already been said; he had thought his previous ones upon Tatooine would be the last.

“The influence you perpetrated was cast out. I already had my doubts about this meeting. If this truly isn’t deception, then those doubts are more than well-founded already.”

He was cut-off - and good timing too, for the weapon had begun a motion - as a metallic voice rang out, as cold and unfeeling as the rest of the station was. A droid, from what he could tell - all buttoned up in the visage of one of their human counterparts. Suffice to say, he could not help but be a tad surprised. Perhaps it was merely a proxy being controlled by an actual human somewhere, though that seemed unlikely. There was no time to dwell upon their story.

His hand, as always, never left the weapon that was kept steadfast at his side, as he motioned towards the table. He neglected to sit for the moment. The situation was too unfamiliar, too uneasy now especially, to care to masquerade good manners.

“‘Tis the truth - as in, this one’s a joke to us.” Was the dry remark after Dryggo’s response, supplementing the sentiment while still maintaining the customary venomous edge he held previously. Whatever rivalry they had could wait - more pressing matters were now at hand, and they ill-needed outsiders to be peering into any of their business. A hand placed down, and the Rally Master leaned against the table as the hologram flashed to life, bathing the room in a blue glow.

“You asked us here, Moff. Now you have our attention. I trust you will not waste it.” Came a curt statement thereafter. Gaze had peered towards the large span of territory the Alliance held in comparison to the other surrounding groups, before it returned to rest upon the sleek outline of the droid. A mutually beneficial arrangement was nigh impossible in his mind, especially given their goals… but nonetheless, he came all this way to hear out what was to be said.

Sig Dryggo | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Antipater

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

The whine screeching off the vibroknuckler came to mute and the Falleens hand unclenched around the weapon and slipped it back into his utility belt with the gesture of Sig Dryggo to ease off what they all would of called " Mandalorian Discourse" a system of communication that relied on actions and words. Less words in fact.

If it were not for the obscenely clean environment that encapsulated them, a reminder for Ninurta of time and place and this was not the place nor time. Considering the surprise of seeing a dead man in a place as this, It had took an effort to resist the natural reaction that wanted to rear its primal head. A miniscule effort and yet one nonetheless. For the Falleen nobility, even this was shameful.

“‘Tis the truth - as in, this one’s a joke to us.” Was the dry remark after Dryggo’s response, supplementing the sentiment while still maintaining the customary venomous edge he held previously. Whatever rivalry they had could wait - more pressing matters were now at hand, and they ill-needed outsiders to be peering into any of their business. A hand placed down, and the Rally Master leaned against the table as the hologram flashed to life, bathing the room in a blue glow.

" The Gronda, Sig, is many things but a joke was never one of them, Carduul Akahl ." He stated in a tempered tone. There was much he did not like about all this but that was for later. Removing his bone encrusted helmet and holding it in hand. Ninurta inclined his head and preformed a slight bow of respect toward Moff Antipater . Despite the "mans" state he was the host of engagement and would be treated as such by the Falleen. Serpent eyes adjusted to the room with a blink of nictitating membranes. "I would not of come, if I did not see this as advantageous. This is something we all share." his gaze deliberately shifted to everyone in the room.

" Forgive our manners or lack thereof, Moff and continue. Please." He all but hissed with the eloquence of royalty with a squint. Then took steps toward the conference table and seated himself near Sig Dryggo in manner that oozed a conceited proprietorship. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.



Tags: Antipater

 

[Feydrik Munin]

It was unbecoming of a warrior to not be multi-faceted.
​

Mandalorians were thought often to be savages, to be cruel, to be beyond such things as art and poetry. Yet, in the gilded halls of Mandalore, Concord Dawn, among their own armors and adornments, artistry, poetry flew like river water. Feydrik was one of those men, a warrior-poet. He studied, he learned. He was adept at it. He learned the codes of the Jedi, the Sith. Read their texts, their doctrines, their beliefs. What made them who they were. How they trained, how they were formed. Their wars, their struggles, their losses and their victories.

It only made him grow to hate them more.

He entered the room quietly, without fanfare. He stared at Sig Dryggo . He had long held suspicions of his treachery, malfeasance, cowardice. Feydrik took a stance at the edge of the room, watching the Moff bring forth a map of the Alliance. Their greatest enemy, at the moment. Or at least, the largest and strongest. But the Alliance had faltered once. In fact, on many occasions now- the Crusaders had found them wanting when they were weighed, measured.

The warrior didn't take a seat, staring at the map for a while before speaking. He spoke at the map, not addressing anyone in particular, but rather everyone in the room.

"Speak with purpose, Moff. The Alliance trembles at the very mention of our names. They meet in their Senates to discuss our wars, our raids."

He looked up finally at the Moff.

"Your victory at Tython was well-reported. I congratulate you."

Feydrik Munin, THE Feydrik Munin, gave an outsider a compliment. Truly, this was a grandiose day, a day filled with surprises.

 

[Antipater]

An inside joke. Of course. The sheer antipathy of Akahl's remark nearly made Antipater reconsider the decision to invite Dryggo, but that shuttle had long departed the spaceport. Ninurta, the Falleen, at least had his etiquette intact.

And then a Munin entered.

Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Antipater watched Feydrik take his seat. They would have locked eyes if Antipater possessed any. Instead, his polished faceplate betrayed only a dark, barely intelligible reflection of the room.

"I will convey your congratulations to the Lord-Regent," Antipater replied. As if on cue, a red dot illuminated the black splotch at the heart of the Alliance. Tython. "Tython was a difficult battle. My forecasts predicted a summary Imperial defeat. And yet the Alliance defied my expectations… Low as they were."

It was a conundrum for the ages: the Dark Empire at the apex of its power had failed to take Coruscant from the Alliance, and then at its nadir had repelled that very same foe at Tython. There were many competing theories as to why that could be the case.

Antipater had his own.

"The movements of the Alliance at Tython were easily predictable. Decades of uncontested supremacy and tactical stagnation have seen to that. Much the same can be said of the Empire. It is why we failed at Coruscant despite the Emperor's pitiful scheme: we were a familiar foe, anticipated well in advance, arriving at the most obvious place."

Antipater appeared to stare up at the map. A smart line of red dots appeared on the fringe of the Alliance. Manaan, Umbara, Onderon… "I suspect your raids along the outskirts of the Alliance have stalled for a similar reason. They have come to appreciate your presence and have begun to prepare accordingly. We are both in the midst of an unfavorable stalemate."

"If a stalemate is to be broken, it must be done by introducing a new variable to the equation. I would like to offer you the means and support necessary to strike at the heart of the Alliance, rather than merely nip at its heels."

Antipater depressed another button. A network of lights emerged, connecting the Imperial state of the Deep Core to its territories at the edge of the Braxant Run. Hyperlanes. Ones that could not and should not exist. These were the hidden routes charted by Imperial pathfinders, along which the Empire skirted the Alliance's extensive blockade.

An endless stream of men and materiel moved along those hyperlanes. Back and forth, like so many ants conveying meat from a carcass. The vastness of space made it rather difficult to choke off such activities. As the old saying went: the more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers.

"To your Neo-Crusaders, I can offer this: complete access to the secret hyperlanes of the Deep Core, sufficient to strike where you please and take what you will. Our shipyards will naturally be more than willing to refresh and resupply your fleets for as long as you require them."

"It is not such an unreasonable accord." The droid Moff returned his attention to the Mandalorians, looking first to Akahl. "The Alliance is ill-prepared for us to cooperate or unite our fronts. Assist us in loosening their grip on the Core and we will assist in spreading your crusade through the Mid-Rim and beyond."

Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin​

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig leaned forward slightly as the Moff began to spin his truth. His suspicions were proven correct, as Moff Antipater demonstrated masterfully his knowledge of the Game. Grand a gesture as it was, it came with, like anything, it’s risks and rewards.

He couldn’t deny the Moff was right: the Core Wars was trapped in a bloody stalemate with neither side making significant progress. When one side did the other would push right back. Indeed the Neo-Crusaders were aware of the current conflicts that plagued the Core and were thusly using it to their advantage; after all the rapid expansion they had experienced could only happen while the Galactic Alliance was too distracted, licking its own wounds to notice.

The Neo-Crusaders were on their mind, there was no question about it. While they hadn’t directly supported any intervention so far, the Jedi weren’t shy about aiding the worlds they had visited. It would only be a matter of time before they officially mark the Crusade an enemy and, likely right after, declare war. Yet Sig had grander visions than most within the Crusade. The Game was clear to him, as it was Antipater,

Striking at their heart would surely cause more than just mere panic. The Galactic Alliance, while holding fast, was struggling. The Neo-Crusaders would be a major factor in altering the course of the Core Wars. Yet he, with that Grand Vision, wasn’t completely sold.

Sitting up straight he folded his arms in disbelief, “What’s the catch?” History didn’t repeat yet it loved to rhyme. And history between the Mandalorians and Imperials was soured, to say the least. “Gonna make us Sith puppets? What exactly do you get in return besides the Galactic Alliance being torn between two enemies?”

Sig stood and glanced at his vod for a moment before letting his t-visor settle back on the Moff. “The Dark Empire isn’t our friend,” he stated bluntly, “If you want us as partners you’re gonna have to provide a little more transparency.”

There was a bit of humor lingering as he finished the statement, but he wasn’t lying. He had a gut feeling there was something else going on and he wasn’t sure any one of them should commit till more questions got their answers.

Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin

 

[Antipater]

"If there is something you would like to know about our little northern Empire, then you need only ask," Antipater's voice was even as he addressed Dyrggo. It was only ever even - a harsh, synthetic drone. "In lieu of a specific question, I can only offer you my candor. I have no desire to make a puppet of you or any Mandalorian cell. History has proven you too contentious to control in a meaningful capacity. It is not and has never been worth the effort."

How many times had the Mandalorians been exterminated? At least three occasions came to mind. And they always returned, even after their home-world had been glassed and strip-mined. They were like a natural phenomenon - a hurricane, a tsunami, an earthquake. They could never be stopped entirely, only prepared for and dealt with when they inevitably transpired.

And so here Antipater was. Dealing with them. "But you are otherwise correct. History has dictated nothing so warm as friendship may ever exist between us. But I did not invite you here to ask to be your friend. - only your ally. Circumstances have seen that we share a common enemy. Cooperation will allow us to better defeat them. Nothing more."

Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin​

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

While Sig Dryggo spoke his piece, The beastmaster examined the holomap. The hyperlanes and the explanation of how the Dark Empire had access to the coreworlds. Most interesting! But Ninurta also took note of the vocabulary used by this Moff Antipater towards the Neo-Crusaders efforts. Nip at the heels was the phrase specifically that caught his attention the most. An interesting way to put it and yet the Falleen couldn't deny it. There were those within Mandalorian ranks that believed that the Crusade was doing more than it seemed and that was pride. Stubborn Mandalorian pride as always. Perhaps it was Ninurta's upbringing that made his perception abit different.

He could see the issue already forming.

"To your Neo-Crusaders, I can offer this: complete access to the secret hyperlanes of the Deep Core, sufficient to strike where you please and take what you will. Our shipyards will naturally be more than willing to refresh and resupply your fleets for as long as you require them."

"It is not such an unreasonable accord." The droid Moff returned his attention to the Mandalorians, looking first to Akahl. "The Alliance is ill-prepared for us to cooperate or unite our fronts. Assist us in loosening their grip on the Core and we will assist in spreading your crusade through the Mid-Rim and beyond."

Coming from a droid. It was hard to deny this statistical analysis. Ninurta rested his eyes and took in a controlled breath followed by an exhale before opening again. Pausing to reflect at the prospects, risks and likely hood of Mandalorians being effected by past generational traumas. So far it seemed to be the first comment to arise. Fear of repeating the past or genocide.

“Gonna make us Sith puppets? What exactly do you get in return besides the Galactic Alliance being torn between two enemies?”

Sig stood and glanced at his vod for a moment before letting his t-visor settle back on the Moff. “The Dark Empire isn’t our friend,” he stated bluntly, “If you want us as partners you’re gonna have to provide a little more transparency.”

The first portion was predictable but the latter was justified. The Dark Empires accord was nicely worded, but that was were it ended. Words. The details were missing and would need to be elaborated on further for Ninurta's taste. Hyperlanes, supply chains and Imperial allies was vague. The "how" in particular. As well as the ideal vision the Empire had of this alliance.

But to this end the beastmaster held his tongue. Waiting for what Carduul Akahl and Feydrik Munin may have to say first.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

For a time, the Rally Master had quieted as he watched and listened. The options offered were appealing. More than so, in ernest - secret hyperlanes, directly to the heart of their foe. Nearby shipyards that would resupply the raiding fleets. It all seemed simply, too good - at least, if you ignored the shady factors. That was always a catch to such things, however, and Dryggo had asked the question upon his mind a mere moment later. His gaze tilted to glance to the other crimson-armored Mandalorian, sharing a brief look betwixt, before it returned towards Antipater.

“And why not ask the Dar’manda already under thine thrall?” Came a query thereafter, with a soft scoff. The heretics under Khamul Kryze were well aligned with the Dark Empire, last he had known. “Or merely utilize fleets of your own to strike through these tantalizingly well-placed lanes?” A hand raised to trace across the hologram’s route. The only reason he could figure they hadn’t used these seemingly unused hyperlanes themselves, was if they were looking towards the Crusade as cannon fodder - as so many groups had done to his people before. Or, perhaps, they were simply lacking in manpower. “Such hyperlanes could only be used so many times before they are discovered and secured. To enact proper damage from such would require a risky allocation of resources.”

Helm tilted slightly, as he peered across towards the Moff. A moment of silence passed as he thought more. “...and though I admit the points you make are practically sound,” Was an acknowledgement in turn, before his hand swiped away to rest upon the table once more, “I am not keen on serving any aim of the masters of the Dark Empire. The Sith that have taken from the Mandalorian people before. Even your new Lord-Regent is not innocent of such crimes, during his time with the Maw. Blood being spilt from us is a heftier price than mere routes and resupplies.”

Mandalorian pride. It was ever an obstacle to their own victory. The Ultimate saw that. He eschewed it, and molded their people into something new. Would he be willing to accept such assistance, even if it was not borne by Mandalorian hands? Carduul was not sure. Nonetheless, that very same pride ensured they would remain uncorrupted by the wiles of the many figures that saw to exploit them.

Sig Dryggo | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin | Antipater

 

[Antipater]

Antipater's visage came to rest on Carduul. "That dar'manda, as you call him, is more Sith than Mandalorian." The word did sound strange from the vocabulator of an administrative droid, but the pronunciation was otherwise flawless. Someone had downloaded a new language package ahead of this meeting. "A fresh perspective is required if headway is to be made. More to the point, his followers are few despite his pretentions."

Fewer now if the casualty reports he had perused were accurate. A terrible price had been paid to hold Tython. But Antipater would not trouble these storied warriors with the sordid details. Khamul Kryze lacked the resources and expertise to do what was necessary to break the Alliance.

"I will not make excuses for the Lord-Regent. He has long done the bidding of others without question. Such is the lot of many Imperials. We can but offer now to 'bleed' alongside you. It is as I said. The Alliance's Deep Core battlegroup is ill-equipped to counter your tactics. Likewise, the formations they have arranged in defense against you will not suffice against an Imperial armada."

Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Feydrik's eyes and head flicked between the speakers, weighing his option to speak or not to. He had, for the most part, remained quiet during the exchange and had little reason to speak to interrupt those who more to say. Or rather, more to express at times.

And everyone, currently, brought up valid points. But Feydrik did agree with those present, to a degree. The idea of being a puppet of the Sith or at the whims of an Empire was not pleasant, nor becoming of their Crusade. But, perhaps war did make for strange bedfellows. Or at the least, aligned interests. Feydrik leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees.

"The Moff may be not speaking aloud what the Empire does not wish him to say. If I am to read between the lines and sentiments- you desire the Crusaders to be your Vanguard to allow your fleets, armies and armada to strike at your true targets." It wasn't an accusatory or hateful tone, just matter-of-fact.

"And truly, perhaps, inflict the damage and warfare that the Empire simply is not capable of with our tactics, our soldiers and our equipment."

He stared at the Moff, leaning back in his chair. Feydrik had grown in his time, from brutal savage- to now, at least, a thinking savage.

"You don't want a partnership, do you, Moff? You want to break the Alliance in two."

Feydrik's helmet shifted slightly upwards and to the right. He was smiling underneath his helmet. He seemed to like the idea.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig stood as Feydrik Munin spoke his peace, which Sig, while not stating so out loud, agreed with. He knew the Moff, eager as he may be to start a partnership of sorts, was likely keeping information hidden. Information that his superiors likely ordered secret in the vain hope that the warriors of the Neo-Crusader would be too blunt or dumb to see the truth. Yet they were wrong, it seemed.

Whether Carduul Akahl or Ninurta Slaabur'r agreed, he did not know. Nor did he dealt care. He knew Moff Antipater would spin his truth, no matter how twisted it may be to them. But for now, Feydrik took the words out of his mouth.

Instead he threw forward a finger that was directed at one of the Core worlds: Arkania. “This is the negotiation: we help you claim this frozen rock and you get a partnership with us for the of the Core Wars.”

He let his words float in the air for a moment, allowing the Moff and his vod to process what he was proposing. “Arkania is rich with resources: precious diamonds and metals that would benefit both of us. The local populace that can see the vision the Neo-Crusaders have will join us as Foundlings, while those unwilling can join the Dark Empire’s labor forces. And, most importantly, the Dark Empire gains more territory, plunging the knife deeper in the Galactic Alliance’s heart.”

Sig felt had presented a solid opening move to the partnership, one he hoped his vod and the Moff would see merit in. However he was still the paranoid strategist; he knew there were drawbacks to this plan. “There will be some downsides,” he noted aloud, “the obvious being our partnership exposed for the galaxy to see. After all, the stories our warriors produce in their wake are hard to keep quiet. The Galactic Alliance will respond accordingly, war will finally be declared on the Neo-Crusaders.” Sig stopped to sit, letting out an exaggerated sigh, “but if we want this partnership to work, we need to know you have skin in the Game.”

He leaned back, waiting to hear what anyone would say in response.

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

"The Empire seeks to use us, as we should intend to use them," Ninurta said, his voice a low, silken rumble as he rose from his seat with fluid grace. He inclined his head toward Feydrik Munin , a brief nod of respect for the seldom spoken wisdom shared. The gesture was mirrored toward Carduul Akahl and then to Sig Dryggo , his expression betraying faint approval at Sig's pragmatic suggestion.

"I find myself agreeing with Sig," Ninurta continued, his words deliberate and steady. "The only way to judge the feasibility of this accord is through action. Words mean little; action determines worth." He pivoted smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back, and approached Moff Antipater with a calculating gaze that seemed to weigh the droid Moff not merely as an ally, but as a potential asset—or liability.

"Should this test run prove fruitful, and your promises hold, I propose an additional term," he said, his voice adopting a sharp edge that sliced through the air. A glint of ambition danced in his eyes as he allowed a cunning smile to creep across his face. "Any and all laborers under your banner who choose to join our Crusade must be allowed to do so—without exception." His words dripped with serpentine charm, but there was venom beneath the surface, a dangerous undertone that hinted at deeper motives. Just as everyone else was playing the Game, so to was the Beastmaster.

"If you wish us to act as your vanguard, then it is only fitting that we strengthen our ranks with those who possess the will and ambition to embrace change. Let them join of their own accord, driven not by coercion, but by the promise of something greater. Surely, such an arrangement would benefit us both—would it not? Without this additional term I do not see it as wise to accept this accord."

 

[Antipater]

"You don't want a partnership, do you, Moff? You want to break the Alliance in two."

Antipater faced Feydrik and was silent for a long moment. Doubtless calculating a suitably political response. "As it happens, I have calculated that partnership is the most effective way to do precisely that."

Akahl so far seemed to remain the most at-odds. Antiptater could not quite predict where Feydrik would land, though he at least seemed contemplative rather than volatile. Every exchange of words that did not end with Antipater being quartered was, in his estimation, a victory.

Dryggo and Slaabur'r, conversely, were already presenting their terms. They were ready for action. Fitting. Antipater was inclined to agree. The simulations he had run were promising and useful, but they were no substitute for empirical observation.

"We may well lose the element of surprise. It is not so important. The Alliance will be forced to split their strongest ships along both fronts if we shift the conflict towards Arkania. It will have the desired effect. The longer a chain stretches, the greater an opportunity to find a weak link."

The droid-Moff looked again at the holomap. Arkania lit up in red. He was controlling it remotely. Being a droid had many benefits, the least of which was being able to adjust this map on the fly, without having to clumsily fumble around with the settings panel… Like some sort of ape.

He continued, "If you would like to draft warriors from the conquered populace, then by all means. I suspect they will be of greater use in your ranks than as mere laborers."

As fate would have it, there was not a single member of the Imperial Ruling Council more likely to accept such a request than Antipater. The vast majority of organic activity could be automated, and in his view the result would be a net positive. Let them have their foundlings. If replacements were needed, they would come from assembly lines.

Perhaps members of the Imperial Ruling Council would complain. But the Ruling Council was shrinking in size and influence each passing day, and with no other allies forthcoming…

...They could stand to lose a few measly Arkanians.

Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin​

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Maybe it was enough. The Dark Empire was surely desperate if they were not only willing to take on the Neo-Crusaders as partners in their Core World Campaign but to allow them to take on Foundlings from conquered worlds; it was a bid that Sig saw some value in, despite the drawbacks it may also produce. Still, he wanted to be absolutely sure that they or anyone within the Crusade was being used.

“We want some assurances, as well,” he added, glancing first at his vod and then back at Moff Antipater . “This is a partnership, not a relationship. We fight when we say, where we say, and we don’t take any orders from anyone in the Dark Empire,” his tone was heavy and conveyed a seriousness he had yet displayed, “Not from anyone, most especially Darjetii, Sith.”

If there was one factor that hadn’t been mentioned it was the Sith. Sig truthfully didn’t know their state. He knew their Dark Empire was at war but he had been so focused on the Jedi he failed to even pay the Sith any attention. Regardless of how they fit into the equation, Sig wanted to be sure it was addressed sooner rather than later.

Carduul Akahl | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Feydrik Munin