Location: Eshan [Just Outside of Eshan City - Exiting Ship]
Accompanying: [member="Darth Metus"], [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Spencer Jacobs"], [member="The Avenger"], [member="Tellu Talon"]
...And possibly others?
Allies: CIS + Eshan
History, often, is a story told by the Victors.
Not so long ago, the Clans of Mandalore, had won.
And so the web of half-truths, outright lies, and obvious manipulation began.
Mercurial eyes swept the achingly familiar skyline of the world that had raised her from youngling to womanhood. The scent of fresh, pure, blessed air was tainted by shadow. Remnants of smoke. Flame. There was a stain on Eshan that had been born of suffering. Of so many, many people dying all in the same place.
Horrifically. If the stories from the Echani refugees that had poured from this sector were to be believed, and in her soul, she did, Eshan City had been assaulted in the cruelest of ways. [member="Alkor Centaris"] had come to her on
Monastery with the very same stories. The very same words. Why would a Mandalorian come to her, broken and bleeding, only to lie?
Why? He had informed her very clearly. He had spoken everything he knew. Even that which made her blood run cold...
Death by fire. Death, extermination, by orbital bombardment.
Srina had spent months dreaming of returning to her family. To see the siblings that had not followed her to the Confederacy. To see her
Adar*
[Father] and
Naneth*
[Mother] again. The fingers of [member="Darth Metus"] brushed against her arm and the slender creature was pulled from her temporary reverie. He bolstered her without words. Raised her spirits in ways that few others could achieve. It reminded her to wake up, noting, that it was unhealthy to become so distracted on the doorstep of what would soon be a battlefield. She gifted him a silent nod. It was all she had. Her Master was confident. Srina, was, and ever would be—
Heartbroken.
She simply did not have the means of expressing it. Sadness, pain, and regret were reserved for those that had the luxury to do so.
Srina did not.
Complements of the Droid Army rolled out from their ships in terrifying waves. They had their orders and more importantly, they were programmed with restraint. The Confederacy had not come to harm Eshan.
They had not come to claim Eshan. They had simply come to set things right. There were many people that had come to stand tall in this endeavor. Those who were wiser, stronger, than she. Srina respected them, remained thankful for them, and prayed silently to the pale beyond that it would be enough. That her Master had not launched a war in her name, moreover, that the nation she had resolved to caretake would not suffer the weakness of her heart.
Just as she went to step forward she felt a hand take her wrist. Srina knew the presence that flowed with it, the strength, and the vague sense of projected comfort. [member="Adron Malvern"] was a former Imperial. He was her opposite in many ways but they understood one another in ways others did not. He was her
Fëandil. A friend, to the core, to her very soul. She did not balk from him and let him place something small on her finger, feeling a flicker of curiosity, as he murmured a quick phrase.
It took her a moment to translate. The only Mandalorian she knew came from [member="Darth Metus"].
Te’Kyr, roughly spoken, meant:
The End. Slowly, she nodded her head in understanding, and watched while his forehead brushed the back of her hand. Her mind would brush his in a simple fashion.
Gentle. No words, no utterance, a simple breeze of cold.
‘Thank you.’
The silvery Exarch was waiting for the one person that actually had the authority endorse this movement. [member="Spencer Jacobs"] had crossed the galaxy to speak with many, many people, and she had been lucky to be included. After the issues that had arisen with the Collective not so long ago, she sought allies among the stars. Srina had known that the flaxen-haired matriarch had plans to solidify a few more ties, but, her travel was interrupted. News of the assault on their home had traveled quickly. At that point, Srina had done the only thing she knew to do. Provide a safe haven. Protect, her Queen.
At least – Until it was time to act. There were so many moving parts. So many loose ends. The most difficult trial, thus far, had revolved around attempting to reach out to the Thyrsian people that loathed them so. Srina did not know what to think, not exactly, of the long-standing war between their genetic cousins. It was an old, cold, and unsettling disagreement. Nevertheless, it existed. The day the Clans of Mandalore decided to act with such a heavy, destructive hand, was a day that no Echani ever thought they would ever see.
An accord…A reason, nay, a direct order from the Queen of Eshan that no Thyrsian would be harmed.
It was not only Echani that had been burned to life in the firestorm of Eshan City but Thyrsians as well. The temporary cease-fire was enough to ensure that the Mandalorian threat would be removed from Eshan. Once that goal was met, Srina had hopes, that one far-flung day they might be able to settle their differences. Knowing that even the Sun Guard, willing or unwilling, followed the Confederate Fleets into this madness? It was…
Something.
Messages poured through all of the open comms. Every frequency seemed to be filled with it. Some of them, almost, drew a reaction from her. A flare of hate.
A flare of wrath. Silver eyes flared with burnished gold and for the first time, her legendary chill threatened to thaw. Were it not for the fact that she had pale skin and white hair her expression could have been mistaken for a Thyrsian.
What were all these missives about the Confederacy coming to claim Eshan? To attack Eshan? What had happened to her people that they had given up all sense of
worth and
self-respect to bow to these butchers? Was it a smokescreen?
A lie?
Why were there rumors of civilian casualties climbing when the CIS hadn’t even attacked yet?
Srina remembered herself the moment the voice of [member="Valencia Hadley"] rolled through the airwaves. It was sobering and much needed. Her place was to think this through. Not, feel. She could never feel.
Her head tilted when a familiar set of footsteps approached on the transport. Softly, her head inclined, and the pale blue of her armor shimmered. She wore the colors of her House over the dark armor that she had taken a liking to in the Confederacy.
“Lady Queen.”
“Things are confusing on the ground. I have been monitoring the chatter and I cannot tell fact from fiction. Either the Clans of Mandalore are lying, or, they’ve seeded the remaining members of Echani Command with so much fear that they obey blindly. We will need to proceed with caution. We have not fired upon this world. It is only Mandalorian blood we seek…Though they hide behind our people. Cowards.”
“In your heart…Do you believe that we would befriend a nation that orbitally bombarded the heart of our world? Would you condone owning slaves in collars that are rigged to explode? Would we set aside all of our histories with this Empire exactly after so many of our own were executed?”
Srina, knew the answer.
No. Echani were warriors. They would no more give in to the Mandalorians than they would deign to ask
them for help. The whole scenario was disgusting.
The Exarch signaled for several of the Dauntless warriors standing nearby, awaiting orders, and nodded toward the Echani royal. One of them felt familiar. One of them, she knew, and also knew that he would protect the woman before her with everything he had. He would do it because it mattered. Because, [member="Spencer Jacobs"], was not only her Queen—but a friend.
“Give us room to breathe but nothing, and I repeat, nothing, touches her Grace. Am I understood?”
As an Echani, Srina was sure, that Spencer would hate her doting. There were more threats present than normal. The Queen had a weakness for certain objects, certain creatures, and the Dread Queen of the Confederacy would do her best to keep any Mandalorian from taking advantage of it.
Her war party kept growing. They would move through the charred remains of Eshan City through a variety of means. Land speeders, by foot, whatever it took. They had dozens of models of droids to help them in their travels. The most important thing, the only thing, was to ensure that the Queen was placed back where she belonged and that Echani Command was brought back to glory. There was actually a decoy vehicle already making its way forward.
It was then that the sun disappeared. Gone in an instant. A fear tactic? Or something more?
Turning her comm on, the Exarch paused, before making a broadcast to all of the Confederacy, their Allies, and the populace of Eshan.
“Thank you—All of you. Your blood, sweat, and loss will not be in vain. The Confederacy will sweep through this region like a plague…But no Echani, no Thyrsian, will be the target of our movements. The Clans of Mandalore can claim whatever delusions they please in the wake of this nightmare but they have forgotten that Eshan is a planet of warriors. Not scared, hidden, broken younglings to be cut down like saplings. Even now, they take your light, and hide the sun from your sky… Stand up. Dismiss your fear. Bury your pain. Fight.”
Srina moved ahead and walked down the ramp. If the Mandalorians truly wished to save anyone—There was a simple solution that they seemed content to ignore.
Leave.
“For all those that perished in Eshan City not long ago, for their ash, that still lingers…Blood will have blood.We will not forget. Never, forget.”
raelvasier: To glory and death! Secure the landing zone, charge or be crushed in our wake!"
