Diplomacy Fortune Favors the Brave (and Really Stupid)

[Nej Tane]

Nej Tane, was an idiot. An idiot savant, a scoundrel, and now-

A billionaire.

BUT.

He accidentally, at one point, donated a couple thousand credits to some very scary people. The scary people, being the Neo Crusaders, who liked to sack planets and ride on giant lizard robots for fun from atmosphere. Needless to say, he wasn't one to get on their bad side.

But technically, he was a governor of one of their planets, a dead planet. Katarr. A pointless rock, a dead planet. But, as Nej figured-

There were people who wanted to mine an entire planet, so why not sell it off and make THEM deal with those armored nutcases? Well, as it turned out, Nej still had to deal with them. So, he sent an envoy, an official message. Officially worded as a gift and a new word he learned of 'tithing'. So, Nej was prepared to give the Crusaders most of what he got from the auction to keep them from, well.

1. Beating him to a pulp for funsies.
2. Sending him to a remote mine somewhere.
3. Using him for target practice.
4. Make him pay taxes.
5. Turn him over to the Hutts.
6. Shave his hair.
7. And anything to do with general murder-related tasks.

Nej ran a hand through his hair, looking out of the official meeting place, one of the ships he was giving to them. In total, well-

Heavy Cargo Hauler X4

Interdictor-Class Cruiser X6

Corporate Heavy Cruiser X8

Planetary Defense Centurion X4

Four legions each of :

EFR-SF Heavy Battle Droids

EFR Super Heavy Battle Droid

Quite a bit. He stood on the bridge, crewed by a hired crew. He was wearing a spiffy new more dignified attire, given that he was now... a trillionaire. He just hoped the Mandalorians who showed up weren't in one of their 'I am going to kill you for honor and for sport' kinda moods. He paced nervously on the bridge, hands folded behind his back. The strawberry blonde doofus was not exactly not nervous, but wasn't freaking out quite yet.

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[Domina Prime]

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Nej Tane​

The sky is a swirling mass of storm clouds and vibrant energy as a beastly Dovahdrake—a monstrous creature with leathery wings, thick scales, and a deafening roar—descends from the heavens. A four-armed, battle-hardened Mandalorian xeno, rides atop the beast. Her form is striking: dark scales shimmer with a faint azure luminescence, sharp claws grip the creature's reins, and jagged teeth line the edges of her cheeks, giving her an undeniably predatory appearance. A massive tail, even larger than she is, snakes behind her, flicking in anticipation.

The Warmount screeches as it hurtles through the clouds, sending ripples through the atmosphere. As the beast approaches the ground, the air crackles, dust rising in waves as it crashes down with enough force to shake the earth beneath.

The beast's wings fold in, like a predator lying in wait as Domina Prime, adorned in black, gleaming armor trimmed in ornate gold, releases her grip on the reins. She rolls her shoulders, a gesture both casual and commanding, as the beast beneath her lowers its body. With her upper arms crossed, her lower arms clasped behind her back, she surveys the landscape with a predatory focus. Five alien eyes, each glowing with their own intensity, flicker and dilate, locking onto the scene before her.

Before her stretches a landing port of sorts, where a small collection of ships of various designs hover and land. Around them, massive crates of gear are being unloaded by scurrying figures, human and alien alike. She was unfamiliar with the contents, but one thing mattered. This was tribute meant for the Neo-Crusader Mandalorians, her kin. Domina's eyes narrow. It is not yet clear if this offering is worthy of their war machine.

She hoped she could see for herself.

Her gaze locks onto a human man, standing at the center of the commotion as if he were inspecting someone. He's dressed in a fine, almost ostentatious way, with a metal mask that obscures most of his face.

The T-visor of Domina's Mandalorian helmet focuses on him as she steps down the spine of her Wardrake, each step deliberate and precise. She moves down the creature's massive tail as though descending a flight of stairs, her imposing figure cutting through the swirling dust rather menacingly despite the Xenos rather cheerful attitude.

Domina's hand rises in a casual but deliberate gesture of greeting, her voice vibrating through the air, chortling with a deadly charm as she speaks.

"Greetings and salutations! This one had heard there was a tribute for The Machine of Manda~" She began, shifting her head to the side as she stopped just short of the man.

Her voice oozes amusement, but beneath it lies the razor-sharp edge of someone who commands respect and fear. Her massive tail rattles, the tension of her body betraying both readiness and delight as she watches him closely, waiting for his response. Her presence is as undeniable as the towering Wardrake looming behind her, casting a long shadow over the gathering below.

"But This One is curious…who are you? Dima would call you handsome, but This One can't see your face~" She cooed, chuckling boisterously as one of her upper clawed hands reached up towards her mask. Peeling it away from her face and exposing her lines of jagged teeth tracing her cheeks and those multiple alien eyes shifting and dilating over the scene. "You MUST be a friend of the cause yes? Mmnf, certainly a fit cut of meat though aren't you?" She purred playfully, slowly circling the man like some kind of predator as she inspected the physique of his body. "Ohhhh yeah…yeah you are. So tell This One…what delights do you offer to Primes Kin?"

 

[Carduul Akahl]

When he was looking over the Clans make their claims to the planets garnered in the conquest of the Mid-Rim, it was a promising sight. So many opportunities for new starts, for the Mandalorian people to grow and flourish. At least, he felt that way until he saw the confirmation for ‘Clan twin-bedroom.’ He understood that logistics was not a strong point in their people, but how did that get past quality assurance? Not that such a thing existed either, but seriously, he felt as if that should’ve been halted somewhere along the line.

Nonetheless, someone somewhere begrudgingly went through with it - either as part of a bad joke, or just out of sheer curiosity, the Mandalorian could not say. The auction itself was a mess, with ludicrous offers, a suspicious Sith attempting to attack guests, and a suspicious droid who won the auction in the end. Yet, somehow, it managed to pay off a fair bit - so long as they keep its new operations well in check as vassals. All of this was only possible because they went through with it in the first place (even if they shouldn't have), and as such the rewards of the endeavor would be theirs to reap. They'd make sure of it.

His transport had arrived in one of the massive ‘Cargo Haulers’ being offered - something easily outfitted for battle stations, if he recalled - the doors to the bridge opening with a hiss of hydraulics as he made his way in.

Tell-tale taps of his ever-present poleaxe at his side announced Carduul’s presence, crimson armor glinting in the lights overhead as he stepped down the small aisle past the data pits.

“Nej Tane.” Echoed a call from behind a smaller T-visor, gaze sweeping across the vast viewport as he approached. Individuals milled about, going about the task of keeping the massive ship working properly. “I must admit, I am impressed with the result you have garnered when given so little to work with. You even hired out a crew of your own accord.”

Nej Tane

 

[Nej Tane]

Domina Prime l Carduul Akahl​

Nej wasn't sure how to respond to a giant, four armed weirdo horny lady coming on his ship, having apparently rode in a giant creature of some kind. Then she hit on him, said a bunch of things, but Nej was too focused on being grossed out to really comprehend what the hell she was talking about. He let out an audible 'ew' before he realized that, of course, this was a giant, four armed Mandalorian weird alien lady and his Disruptor pistol and quickdraw only went so far.

"Well I uh..."

Thankfully, a more reasonable, rampaging, murderous, violent and bound-to-honor/bound-to-kill you person showed up. He said his name with an amount of authority that Nej stood a little straighter, but also, made him tense up.

"Thank you, my Lord? Well. Actually- my great uh, Mandalorian-ness, I... have come to offer tribute. In... the form of all of this. And that."

Nej wasn't stupid, and his ambitions pretty much began and ended with- well, trying to be a Mandalorian governor. Besides, he knew that eventually the Mandalorians would call on him to do something other than just exist. Clan Twin-Bedroom wasn't exactly a catchy name, and ending up on a Mandalorian shitlist wasn't catchy either. He gestured out to the viewport, where the other ships had been pulled into position, crewed only by a hired skeleton team, or, pulled into position by gravity wells or otherwise.

"The Mandalorians made me quite, well. Rich, so. I don't think it's a secret I don't have a skin in your game but- scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours..."

Translation:

Please don't kill me later on.

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[Gulranor]

Nej Tane Domina Prime Carduul Akahl


The clunk-clunk-clunk of metal sounded; a ferocious sound as the bridge door slowly hissed open, and with it, a cumbersome figure slowly trotted into view. Well... All fifteen feet and practically painful weight of it aside (at least to the eye), the armor was instantly recognizable. An AV-1A Assault Suit, customized and modified extensively. The glint of beskar and songsteel evident in its alloyed plates and construction. In one hand was clutched a massive five-barreled assault cannon, the other clutching a one-handed Beskad Axe which glittered with ebon hue. A mono-eye visor of sorts glinted - synced to the bearer's own optic nerves. Still, there was the fact that it looked... strange. Green and browns and blacks - but it was intimidating to foes for certain. The voice from it was dull and flanging - yet HIDEOUSLY LOUD!

"ARE THESE THE MANDALORIANS?!"

Needless to say, the Mercenary and Bounty Hunter, identifiable as Gulranor, was poorly understood. More armor it seemed then person, the mystery-species individual casually rolled their neck a little, exposing nothing visible of flesh. Vac-sealed completely. Merely staring at the Mandalorians and Gulranor's own employer, the flanging voice continued its non-optimal, nearly deafening cadence and pitch. It was definitely being modulated down from ear-shattering decibels, though. Thankfully, because otherwise the risk of going deaf was there.

"THEY DO NOT APPEAR TO BE PARTICULARLY ARMED. SHAME. THEY WOULD MAKE A GOOD FIGHT."

The fact was, the hulking mass of armor could barely fit in the doorframe and probably had bantha poodoo-poor agility, but it was like a brick wall. How did this one even get hired was a mystery. Maybe they shacked up with a mercenary crew on the way here? Whatever the case may be, the AV-1A Assault Suit's modified helmet pivoted to face Domina and then Carduul, before going back to Nej. They were clearly studying the situation, ensuring that no violence broke out. Well...

No violence they didn't want to participate in, anyway. It would not end well to kill their paying client, after all - their business acumen won out over the slight homicidal urges that screamed in the back of Gulranor's mind. Kill, Maim, Burn, but for now it was suppressed and left to wait. Gulranor merely confirmed a question that resided in their mind, though...

"ARE NEGOTIATIONS PROCEEDING WELL?!"






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