More than Conquerors [ Crusaders/Invite ]

[Darth Metus]

----- B A S T I O N -----​

We spoke of Reclamation...

That was the shining goal which spurred them forward. What was once a small movement, sponsored and led by Isley's own House, blossomed into a force which reached across the stars. They did not rise with subjugation as their aim, nor entrallment as their prize. Rather, the Mandalorian Crusaders were born to remedy a wrong dealt to their people. Over the course of many years, worlds had been lost to the children of Manda'yaim; and with them, vode. This was reason enough for Isley to band them together...this was their Crusade.

In the beginning, they were met with success. They grew from movement to Empire – although the rise of a new Sole Ruler saw a swift adjustment in title. Yet...while they did not refer to themselves as thus...that was what the Crusaders had become. The goal of reclamation was being met with each passing day, yes. The vode residing upon those worlds were eagerly welcomed back into the fold, yes. But what of those who had come before? What of those whose lives did not revolve around perpetual battle...

In their eyes, the Crusaders – their "saviors" – were little more than another Empire. Another war machine that exploited them for resources and nothing more.

This...didn't sit right with the Warmaster.

It didn't sit right with many.

Only the deaf could not hear the rumblings of dissatisfaction among the populous. Although most chose not to listen, for the Great Crusade was upon them, Isley could not bear but to. In starting this movement, his goal was not to become an iron fist. He wanted to bring his lost people back...he wanted them to know the joy and stability of being whole again. Yet, in doing so, he caused so many suffer. They suffered now, even still. He spoke of Reclamation...

But what of Restoration?

What of Protection?

This couldn't go on.

And so, the Warmaster made his Call. He beckoned them: leaders, great and small, of his lands, the Crusaders, and his kin. All who could...all that flew his banner...to muster within a rather storied place. What was once a seat of Imperial power – the Palace – would see the conclusion to that system of rule. Ironically enough. Directed were they to assemble within the greatest of the Palace's halls: the very room which housed the literal seat of Imperial power. However, the throne was vacant...untouched by the Warmaster. Instead, he sat upon a seat of wood before the throne's steps.

And before him stood a table. It was long and housed several seats: the closest meant for the Ray'shea, the rest reserved for his immediate kin. To his right were many seats, arranged in neat rows so that his Crusaders might clearly see. To his left, a sea of projectors: where the azure manifestations of planetary leadership began to hear. A once hallowed chamber...a once silent chamber...began to buzz with a sea of voices. Armored men and women began to trickle in, filing into the seats provided. One by one, councilmen and representatives synced to the grand Holo Conference.

Isley rose.

As the chair creaked with motion, all eyes snapped to his person. The buzz lessened, lulling into low whispers. The situation was...nerve wracking...to say the least: for what man enjoyed all eyes being upon him? What man took pleasure in admitting fault? No matter. Even in spite of the perspiration that slickened his hands...Isley began to address his people.

"Crusaders. Delegates. Brothers and Sisters...thank you all for coming." he began. Standard introduction, a by product of nerves. "We...when this all began...we spoke of Reclamation. Our goal was to see our lost brethren, Mandalorians who were estranged in the wake of disaster, reunited with us. Our goal was to return worlds that had once existed within the Clans' reach into Mandalorian hands. Our goal was...honorable...in the context of Mandalore."

"But."

"In the eyes of the people...those who lived under foot – under our feet...How different are we from every other nation that had come before?"

Murmurs spread like wildfire.

"I summoned you all here today because I know that we are different. That we are better. I know that, for these people–" he motioned to the holograms. "We are the best option. We are not a cesspool of corruption. We are not envoys of Darkness. We thrive on honor, on what is right. And it is time we show them that."

"We spoke of Reclamation, but now is time to speak of Restoration. Of Protection. Of Prosperity. Now is the time to rectify the past – to show that we are indeed the best option – by building a stronger tomorrow. Crusaders. Delegates. Everyone. I speak to you of a Covenant: between those who follow my Banner and the worlds we have, and have yet to, Reclaim."

"And the first term of this Covenant...is Sovereignty & Protection."

"From thenceforth, the necks of these worlds will not be trampled underneath our boots. They are free – free to rule and govern themselves as the day they were made. We shall recognize this right."

"And in the same manner, the worlds will accept our protection. We will be more than Conquerors...than Overlords. We will become Guardians – bastions that our people can flock to and rely upon. We will safeguard them from all ails, foreign and domestic...And in the most vital of matters, those pertaining to the safety and wellbeing of the nation as a whole, it will fall to us to guide the way forward."

Murmurs. Impassioned whispers. Even more now.

"This is but the first term of our Covenant: the first step in a new, and better direction. Speak now, my people. Do you accept this? What more...what terms...would you see brought to this table? Speak now, my Crusaders. Speak now, delegates."

And thus did the Warmaster open the floor...but it felt like opening floodgates. Yet in this moment, all the voices would be heard: no input too large, nor too small. The future of their nation depended upon what was agreed upon this day; and Isley would be certain that it was done right.

We once spoke of Reclamation...Let us now speak of a Covenant.

Spoiler

[member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Akkest Yiun"], @Alar Brokarra, [member="Alexandra Feanor"], @Alicia Drey, [member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="Anastasia Verd"], [member="Belis Verd"], [member="Celiana"], [member="Cennika Hawk"], [member="Corvus Detta"], [member="Darth Ayra"], [member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Deneve Verd"], [member="Dralos"], [member="Elaesanne Araeris"], [member="Faust"], [member="Gael bar Ammon"], [member="Glade"], [member="Goran"], [member="Goros the Hutt"], [member="Gray Raxis"], [member="Isiah Reeval"], [member="Ithiel Verd"], [member="Izevel Zambrano"], [member="Jack Raxis"], [member="Jansal Corego"], [member="Jericho"], [member="Jevar Xolius"], @Jori Varad, [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Juwiela Melec"], [member="Kadala Skirata"], [member="Kalyr Alor"], [member="Kas Varad"], [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Khia Varad"], [member="Kor Rekr"], [member="Krest"], [member="Lan"] Portaga, [member="Lily Hex-Volsh"], [member="Linalia Soft"], [member="Lunasi Vizsla"], [member="Malrik Durante"], [member="Marcus Itera"], [member="Maya Carrick"], [member="Miss Blonde"], @Mordecai Tal'cyr, [member="Mortarion Zambrano"], [member="Naimes Ahn-Dross"], @Nauren Oricon, [member="Nicair Claden"], [member="Nikole Vizsla"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Oddball"], [member="Oozak"], [member="Oron Verd"], [member="Owed"], [member="Pollux"], [member="Project Uriel"], @Prosecutor, [member="Queen Sovereign"], [member="Rohlan Verd"], [member="Ryanin Kor"], [member="Samuel Baelor"], [member="Satine Detta"], [member="Seanna Vel"], [member="Sinoca"], [member="Sol"]'yic Ramikad, [member="Solan Charr"], [member="Stardust Raxis"], [member="Tadietti Tann"], [member="Tel Rekr"], [member="Teles Knight"], [member="Tempist"], [member="Thresco"], [member="Titan Verd"], [member="TK-0743 Kage"], [member="Tor Rekr"], [member="Triss"], @Varian of Myrkr, [member="Vax'ildan"], @Veila Vella, @Ves Ne, [member="Vesphira So'Kil"], [member="Xander Carrick"], [member="Zef Halo"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Zoey Marix"], @Zeradias Maekar

 

[Vora Kaar]

You didn't need the force to tell that Isley was on edge. Give the man a weapon, and he would be fine. Sit him in front of almost trillions of people? He squirms at the idea of this new "federation." He was taking a good step. One that was not meant as a way for us to rule, or one for us to trample over others. Isley in truth, was a father, and a Leader. He understood that nobody wanted their son, or daughter to be walked over. Nor would he want his own agendas squashed because someone else came along and gave him the red light. We were not gaining favors from the people who lived here, who sweated their asses off to survive. We were hurting them. We needed them not as subjects, but as allies. Before hand, Isley had spoke to me in private. Mentioning us being these guardians to the people.

He did not have a great past of good faith in every direction. Neither did I, nor half of any of the other people who would be attending. Guardians? I felt conflicted about it. However, the idea was soothing. It provided those who worked and fought for our lives to have some form of a job, while also providing protection to those who could not. We wanted this to be open. A government that was built by the people of these various planets, for the people. Some of the planets nearby, I had never even heard of, let alone set eyes upon. I was in the dark. And I hated it. I agreed. We needed allies. Before the calling had happened, I had made my stand.

While my mentor, teacher, and surrogate father sat in the wooden chair, I stood behind him. Dressed partly in my armor. of course I carried my blaster, and my lightsaber. I was barren of weapons otherwise. My helmet was off, and sitting on the corner of the table. I had my right hand clenching onto my left wrist as people began to flood in. Senators dressed in formal garb. Nobility in their clothing of colors, and flair. Mando'ade to the cause underneath the banner of the Verds, and even others that were from the clans.

Invisible to all else, a woman stood beside me. She was unable to interact with other beings. Only myself. Speaking to me, she already knew what was happening. Considering it would look a little weird if I were talking to an empty room, she asked yes or no questions that I could subtly nod, or shake my head. Galliea, or what she wanted me to call her was Gale, began her questions.

"So these people you conquered over?"
Nod
"Were they the ones fighting your armies?"
Shake
"This meeting is for making allies like Isley said. Is it better to do this than rule over fear?"
Nod
"We both know you will have a tough time changing from this."
Nod
"Anything else I might need to know?
Shake
"I will be silent until the meeting is over then."
Nod

After the little conversation we carried on our own, She moved to sit on the throne. No one would see her, and its not like a ghost can really disgrace someone when they can't even see her. I turned around for a moment just to shake my head a little. I was nervous about this as well. This was change. Isley was a proud man. Proud in the sense that he looked highly upon his actions, and tried to not make mistakes. For him to make up for this and say that he was stepping a little bit over the line was a lot from this man. Even as he stood, and began to speak about this new federation after everyone had come in, He then opened the floor for anyone to speak.

I kept quiet, however, I did voice to him with telepathy, and didn't expect an answer.

"Your Shadow follows you Sir."

I was his apprentice. I was his Shadow. The being that followed him, did his bidding, and learned from him. I still stood behind him, and will until he deems I am no longer in his shadow, and must cast my own. Even then, I had a feeling I would still stand side to side with him. In the field of blood, sweat and tears,

or in a stuffy room filled with politics.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Goran]

Goran couldn't have been more out of place.

For starters, it was about two feet shorter than most everyone here; Mandos seemed to breed exclusively for physical intimidation. Also, it was in its usual droid chassis, so there was that. It had taken some persuasion to get the guards to even let it in here in the first place, and given that the only persuasion the little Shard knew came from the muzzle of a gun, they were quite reluctant to let it pass. A few calls were made, and Goran was admitted into the hall, but only after disarming. Well, mostly disarming. No one could truly disarm a true Mando, and Goran had worn the title longer than most.

"What I want," Goran called out across the hall, "is for you to drop the act. We're Mandos. Flowery words ain't our style."

It rolled out to the center and approached the dais, though it maintained a respectful distance.

"I know you and Ra and the rest of the bigwigs have notions on making us all fancy and osik, but whatever happened to sitting down at the Oyu'baat and deciding matters of foreign policy over a nice tall glass of engine degreaser? We're not some pampered Coruscanti ponces who get faint at the sight of blood, Verd. We're Mandos. We kill people and break things."

It sighed heavily, the organic sound completely at odds with the mechanical body.

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, and I'm sure as feth not challenging for the top seat. They'd have to install a ramp for me to reach it anyway. All I'm asking is that you remember where you came from, and you remember who and what we are. Tell all the little fuzzy-wuzzies that you're gonna be a kinder, gentler ruler if you want, and hell, I don't doubt you will. Some of these crackpot dictators we've been putting boot to ass against were real nasty pieces of work. Making them chew a blaster bolt probably left the galaxy a better place. But don't forget that we're following you on this Crusade of yours precisely because we kill people and break things. It's our life, our business, and brother, business is booming. Keep giving us douchebags to shoot and we'll keep shooting, but save the pomp for folks who give a damn."

The little Shard looked around the room for a moment, trying and failing to get a read on the faces around him.

"Anyway, that's all I've got. Y'all have fun with your little get together."

And with that, it rolled out. If [member="Isley Verd"] wanted to yell at it, it would stop and be yelled at. If blaster bolts started flying, well, that would just make things fun, but Goran didn't think it would come to that. Even in the old days, a speech like that wouldn't rate more than a bottle or two thrown at its dome.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

It was not often that he thrust himself so far out into the light, but this conclave called together by [member="Isley Verd"] warranted the risk of exposure. Fortunately he had long since established an alternate personality for dealing with those less amiable to his shadowy ways, and as consequence the silent watcher had been born. It was not the most discrete occupation being the voice that so delicately whispered into [member="Deneve Verd"]'s ear, and many harbored distrust and superstitious thoughts about the black and orange mercenary whose face had never been revealed. Even now he lingered in the shadows of the massive throne room, once the high seat of old Imperial power, his single visible eye peering out at the assembled Crusaders, but more specifically he had fixated his gaze on the Warmaster at the head of the assembly.

Isley Verd had symbolically forsook the power and prestige of the already existing marble throne for one fashioned from wood, a gesture that didn't sit well with the Buir be Rekr. The man still put too much value in the archaic concept of honor, the whole lot of them did, and that would only drag them down. Perhaps that is why he went to such lengths to integrate himself into the upper echelons of the Crusaders, now aggravatingly termed Guardians by the Warmaster's own words.

What nonsense.

He kept his seething opinions to himself for now, there was no reason to out himself as a dissenter in front of an entire group who would no doubt suckle from Isley's teat, hanging on his every word. He'd have to speak with the Warmaster in private at a later date. For now he kept himself half-concealed in darkness, silently observing.

 

[Aedan Miles]

Aedan Miles sat in one of the chairs most likely unlike the others present he sat with one leg kicked over an armrest leaning back comfortably in the chair tapping his hand against the top of the table. This wouldn't change many things about where Aedan and Clan Akaata sat he was always one for freedom and made sure to treat the inhabitants of planets conquered respectfully. After all they were a part of his income in most senses they would buy most of the items that weren't military grade hardware. Even than he had stationed some droids on certain planets that he knew were under risk of opposing pirates striking to help defend the citizens. Finally the young man stood his once violet hair now black and hanging loose down to his shoulders. His violet eyes remained the same as they always would it helped at times as he turned towards [member="Isley Verd"] taking a moment to silently observe the man before an grin crossed his lips and the young man shrugged waving his hands lightly. "You know that Clan Akaata follows where you leave Isley. Just I feel there is something that we should speak of pertaining to the military organization and such. You have known me long enough to know that me and standard military protocols don't get along well I prefer to operate much more flexibly which at times requires me to act independently."

He shrugged and took his seat again resuming his previous position a bored look filing his eyes as he stretched in his seat. He pulled a small visor from his belt and attaches it over one eye blinking as he accessed the data net his clan used. Slowly items scrolled across the screen over his eye taking note of a few items his eye flickered sending various items to different planets where they would be needed. Doing all of this while still paying attention to the meeting at hand. Taking note of a few of the ships stolen he calmly assigns those to his Clan's asset's they would be assigned to the patrol groups after they had crews trained on them. Noting the various military supplies he put them into a single document and sent the document to Isley's private datapad later when the man had a chance to look at it they would arrange a price for their purchase. Until than he took the visor off after assigning new raiding groups.

 

[Nyos Val]

As a member of clan Verd, Titan sat amongst his kin. The largest of the clan, he sat heads taller than the rest. He'd already agreed to Aliit'buirs ideals and was prepared to follow them. A man of few words, and fewer emotions, Titan sat stoic as the proceedings carried on. Word traveled across the room about what everyone thought of Isley's new plan for the Crusaders. Kronos was held between Titan's legs, his hands resting atop the hilt, like a massive cane.

If it is the word of my Aliit'buir, then I shall follow... To those who look to us for aid...Aliit ori'shya tal'din...

Titan spoke aloud, he didn't intend to, but the words traveled as his voluminous voice echoed through the halls.


[member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Gilad-abim"] [member="Goran"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Vuhan Chen]

Patricia was a businesswoman first and foremost, but she did have a soft spot in her heart for Isley and the company he kept. Her company Reclaimer Arms & Industrial even gave weapons to the crusaders free of charge and made sure they were always stocked and ready to go. It was more of a personal favor to her long time friend and she enjoyed watching them destroy the Republic as well.

But what was going on here? Well it was wonderful. Patricia was never a Mandalorian and she was never going to join up with them like her long time friend [member="Keira Ticon"] whom she had subsequently introduced to her when she handed the keys over to the clone army. But all that didn't matter right now, what mattered was that people were going to be able to be free and prosperous on their own accord while under the protection of the Mandalorians.

And while yes some people might or fear the future, this was a good thing. Mandalorians at the end of the day were indeed warriors, but being a warrior and tyrants were not lifestyles that had to go hand in hand. You could fight worthy enemies and be just while doing it, so anything that gave the people of the crusaders more freedoms the woman was down with.

So not really wanting to voice her opinion as a non Mandalorian she just gave Isley a thumbs up as she leaned on a nearby palace pilar and watched a droid she was more than familiar with exit the room.

"Prick." she said to herself under breath, it was well founded though. After all the droid had shot her and left a mark on her favorite set of phrik armor.

[member="Isley Verd"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Goran"] [member="Gilad-abim"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Titan Verd"]

 

[Nolan Detta]

Nolan stood in full Beskar'gam, along with his family. As aliit'buir to clan Detta, he was obligated to represent the clans from his point of view. One would think that the wild oats that the Mandalorian Wreckingball had sown would not put him in a place of favor to those who knew him before the Crusade, but he didn't care. He was here to reclaim the life he had, to build a new one with his wife, [member="Satine Detta"], and their two children, [member="Kaylanna Detta"] and [member="Corvus Detta"].

Once there was an opening to speak aloud, Nolan took it.


Haat, ijaa, haa'it! We Mandalorians are bound by this code. In Truth we march for the safety of our families and friends, in Honor we fight for those who cannot, and our Vision is a better galaxy for our children. These ideals are what drive the Crusaders here and abroad to fight to give each and everyone of you the freedom you so desire.

I, Nolan Detta, Aliit'buir of clan Detta, offer my clan, and my life to the protection of these worlds we have liberated. So that they may leave behind a better, safer world for their successors.

[member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Gilad-abim"] [member="Goran"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Mór-rioghain]

Into the room did she stride, her footsteps slow yet sure. Right on up to the table did she make her way before halting halfway up. A loud slam would soon echo around the room as piercing Emerald eyes would soon bore into her sire.


She had recently come to learn of how things worked here yet she was displeased. She could understand where her father was coming from yet his next set of actions and wishes seemed a little too republic like. He claimed he was a Mandalorian yet wanted to play politics? Pursing her lips, it was only when she lowered herself down into a chair and brushed those brilliant red bangs from her face that she did speak.


"From what I gather you want to be more than what certain other Mandalorians are. You want a purpose?" Slowly her thoughts came together, visions dancing just around the edges of her conscious. Glancing around the room at all gathered so far, she would soon speak once more, her eyes drifting over to the shadows once before returning to the various stands filled with people.


"You have those that are loyal and then you have those in your mist that are like the one that attacked Mandalore.. Perhaps before you take this route you should really take a step back and access things. Your people follow you.. To the point they wouldn't voice the displeasure at your bending a knee recently. I think as long as you stick to the culture you unknowingly try to force down the throats of your children you will be good. Just know, your attempt at being generous may get met with quite a few snakes in your mist, ones attempting to test the waters.."

[member="Isley Verd"]
[member="Gilad-abim"]
[member="Zephyr Carrick"]
[member="Nolan Detta"]
[member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"]
[member="Titan Verd"]
[member="Goran"]

 

[Darth Ayra]

Between the holograms that had been displayed before Isley Verd, one had remained quiet. The hooded figure that was displayed on the projector, reserved for Alicia Drey, had watched and listened to the gathered Mandalorians, and their allies. When a lull came, a voice spoke softly through the projector, emanating from the hooded person. It was someone that none present had met before.

"Weak."​

​

When the word was spoke, the hooded figure shut down their connection to the meeting. If the source was tracked, then Isley and the others would learn that whoever they had been had come from the Bespin system.

 

[Keira Priest]

If there was one thing the Shard was undoubtedly correct about, it was that Mandalorians weren't politicians in the least. Frivolous words and gestures meant nothing to them at the end of the day, though the symbolism behind forgoing the throne wasn't lost on her. Seated at the end of the table closest to Isley, being on the Rayshe'a and also his sister, Keira listened to all that was said with a patient ear. All told, she had been anticipating her brother calling them all together ever since he had bent the knee to the reigning Mand'alor, though it had all been much later than originally thought. Even then, none of what was put forth directly pertained to that development. This was something different, and something she wasn't sure how to feel about.

As the others spoke she sat by and observed, waiting her turn to voice her opinion. There were a few that took issue, but most seemed content with the change. For her own part, she was somewhere in the middle. How this was put into action would determine her true feelings. "I would like to preface what I'm going to say with the fact that Goran is right. We're Mandalorians. Words, for the most part, are secondary, and we sure as hell aren't politicians. I appreciate the professionalism, but not the overkill." Certainly it was necessary when speaking with those entirely outside of their orbit, but those present were Mandalorian or had resided long enough within their realm that they knew and were comfortable with how things typically worked.

"I understand and appreciate what you're doing, but what I don't understand is when any of these supposed 'new policies' were ever neglected. When haven't we protected those on our worlds, offering them the same we would our vode? To the aruetiise we may present ourselves as heavy-handed tyrants, but that's not who we ever were. We've never forced those within our borders into a culture they didn't agree with, never oppressed or shunned. What use is a rebranding? We're Mandalorians. We're Crusaders. And in some fashion, we always were and are a covenant."

[member="Isley Verd"], [member="Mór-rioghain"], [member="Nolan Detta"], [member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"], [member="Titan Verd"], [member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Avedia Lacroix"]

 

[Vuhan Chen]

"Because people want transparency, Keira." Patricia chimed in from her pilar.

"What do people know about the crusaders? That one of members killed Ember Rekali and destroyed a space station with people on it? That previously the crusaders supported a group of civilian killing criminals?" Patricia ironically brought up to Keira.

"Oh, and that the Crusade's closet ally is destroying a democratic nation with the Crusade's full assistance. So if you were some average joe on a planet owned by them, wouldn't you be a little more than concerned by the people who own your planet? I know I'd of bugged out by then." Patricia didn't like verbally queen slapping Keira but she'd save Isley the pain of doing it himself to family.

"So by my count, that all equals up to rebellion and civil unrest. So the people need to know that they have their back, and no speech is going to fix it. They need physical tangible proof and a change in name, official policies, and documents are certainly a good place to start. The people need to know that the Covenant will protect them and help them through establishing their own governments and councils." Patricia then tapped her foot on the ground and stood upright.

"People need to be shown freedom, not told they have it while the overseer holds a gun."

Hopefully that would let Keira know what was up, because she wasn't the brightest of bulbs when it came to galactic policies and government. She could lead you out of a firefight, hell she could even broker peace agreements between waring factions, but anything outside of combat or militaristic operations, Patricia's opinion of Keira's ability to run things was fairly low. With all due respect of course.

[member="Isley Verd"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Goran"] [member="Gilad-abim"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Titan Verd"] [member="Mór-rioghain"] [member="Avedia Lacroix"] [member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Vora Kaar]

Many spoke from many different perspectives. Democracy is about electing officials to represent the people's views. This was slightly different. Our Confederacy would be where multiple different governments from various planets, come together for a common goal. Of course, there would be different laws on different planets. However, there should be a set standard between everybody. And that is what this meeting was for. To find out where the line is, and what crosses it.

With a Shard droid basicly telling us this wouldn't be successful, and then leaving, with others being the voice of concern, I was about to speak the lady over by the pillar began. She hit the nail on the head. It was about showing people we wanted to truly give them their freedoms, and inalienable rights. You deserved the right to speak as you wish. Protect yourself. Even if that means from the government that we were setting up. And thats the point. We are recognizing these freedoms that people have, and letting them have access to them.

"As you say ma'am, We are trying to find the line that we cannot cross. What is considered oppressive, and what is not. Keira, Yes. Mandalorians as a whole have not done a lot about politics. And we aren't starting now. We are not delegating someone to become a representative, or take charge. Checks and balances is what this will bring for us in the Crusade, and those we bring into our fold."

Instead of now standing at attention, I relaxed a little and walked towards the table. Placing my gloved hands gently on it and leaning forward a little to look at her, and those sitting. I happen to be standing on the left side of my mentor.

"A king fights for days over a castle he so dearly wants to put under his boot. After finally taking it over, all those who fought against him either bent the knee to him, or to death. A slave stood behind him and placed the crown on his head. Heading him a warning only he could give him. 'Kings rise to power through oppression and fear. The moment you lose this, you will find a knife in your chest.' To put it simply. If we were to conquer every planet we came across and make everyone bow to us, eventually we would fall by death from another invading force, or by the very people who we thought were our subjects."

I stood straight for a moment. I was shifting way too much. Even Gale still sitting on the throne behind me was starting to tell me to settle down. I ignored her presence for a moment before continuing to speak.

"We are changing that. I am sure you have gone through the history of the Mando'ade. Many times our Manda'lor would rise by taking the life of the previous one. Only to be killed by another opposing force, or by someone he thought he trusted. We are changing that, but ever so slightly. There is a time for action without consequence, and there is a time for thoughtful strategy. You remember Operation Weedkiller as much as I do. I hastily ran in. I lost an arm, and my honor for it. We, as the crusaders, don't want to injure ourselves by hasty decisions of war, conquerors, and back stabbings. I have a voice as much as you do. Now it's time for others to have one."

Standing there, I kept my ground. I wanted others to have a voice as much as I did. My words carried a lot of weight. I may not feel like it in this current setting with Isley, his sister, and many other of his direct family, but Isley chose me to be his apprentice. He brought me under his wing, and teach me how to become not just a competent force user, but a man, a soldier, and a Leader. He picked me, and for that, my word would be a reflection of not just my thoughts but his as well. I learned from him, and was taught to act more along his values, and traditions. If anyone wanted to find out more from Isley, they had to look to me, how I acted.

"He must be a bad student."
"And to think Isley is training him."
"Hes a waste of his time."

Many more ideas and phrases game to my head. All wanting me to stand down, and just accept what was happening. in spite of that, I breathed in deeply, and released my breath over a span of a few seconds as I stood there. Never wavering from my words, and my own opinion.

[member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"], [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Mór-rioghain"], [member="Nolan Detta"], [member="Titan Verd"], [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Gilad-abim"], [member="Goran"], [member="Isley Verd"],

 

[Darth Metus]

As cliche' as it seemed, the Warmaster had attempted to "pump himself up" beforehand. Well before striding into the Great Hall...Prior to even setting foot on Bastion...Isley had a heart-to-heart with himself. He stood before a mirror and attempted to anticipate the responses he would face today. To put it bluntly, Isley knew his people. He knew that anything remotely political would draw the ire of his warriors. He fully anticipated emotions running high and the potential of butting heads. Potential? Bah. Guarantee. So, Isley did what he had to in order to preemptively settle his nerves. He argued with himself, for a solid chunk of time. But. When the hour came to "shine", the Mandalorian found his plan failing. His palms remained slick, even more so now that he had opened the floor.

But alas, His Shadow was there.

That was something that the Warmaster could take comfort in. The presence of his apprentice - the definition of a friendly face - did wonders for the damned sensations running amock inside. Now, one would think that sitting among his immediate family and Clan would have a similar result; but House Verd was not the conventional family. Isley could depend on them, of course. But he could also rely on their not withholding a single world. See, that was the benefit of being related: when it came to sharing their opinions, they could get away with murder. Isley began by acknowledging the presence of his Apprentice. While he did not say a word, nor physically move to meet his eyes, the Force did the talking for him. Emanating from his Mentor, Zephyr would feel a cocktail of nerves...and the slightest hint of gratitude.

Then [member="Goran"] rolled forth.

Initially, Isley lofted a brow in surprise - for he did not anticipate the Shard to be the first to speak. However, as the mechanical voice reached his ears, it felt as though a stone had been dropped into the pit of his stomach. This was...not something one could prepare for in front of mirror. Now, there was no questioning the validity of the Shard's concern. Isley was not so blinded by pride or his agenda that he would not regard a contrary opinion. However, the rise in the Warmaster's nerves did not spike only because of what Goran had to say...but also because of the Crusader's response. They were not politicians, nor delegates, or civilians. And as such, they responded in the only way they deemed appropriate: Thunder. When the Shard concluded his piece, many among the Crusaders began to beat their fists upon their breastplates.

The Thunder rolled for several seconds, feeding the wildfire of low voices on the Delegates' side.

When the storm broke, Isley steadied himself. His palms came to rest flat upon the table before him, and his gaze settled upon the departing Droid. Gotta admit, he's got Bolts of Steel. Came his silent concession. However, silence would not do in this case. Isley had opened the floor for feedback, and now he had to respond.

"I agree, we are Mandalorians." he began, carefully considering what to say. "And because of that, we know exactly what being free is all about. Make no mistake, my intent here isn't to change the Crusaders into the next Republic-" Chuckles erupted across both sides, although the Crusaders were much louder. "My intent here is to offer these people, the natives of the worlds we've reclaimed, the very same sovereignty that every clan enjoys. This is something that hasn't been said and needs to be. But that won't change what awaits us down the road. That won't change our putting bolts between the eyes of the Warlords and Remnants standing between us and our people. That, you can be assured."

There wasn't much more the Warmaster could say on that.

Then came the next voice: a much more familiar one. Turning, the Mandalorian set his attention upon [member="Aedan Miles"]...who seemed to had undergone a change in hair color since last they spoke. On Dubrillion, Isley distinctly remembered it being violet. Apparently the dye had faded. Upon hearing what the Alor of Clan Akaata had to say, the Warmaster found the beginnings of a grin forming upon his face. Aedan, the Pirate King, never ceased to be consistent. In all things, one could always rely upon him to bring a case of good booze and a bid for piracy. Erm. Flexibility. "After your performance over Mimban, it would be foolish to lead you away from where your skills shine the best. When it comes time to hash out matters pertaining to the military, we'll make an arrangement that best suits the infamous Pirate King."

Thunder. Apparently the Crusaders really like it when an entire Republic fleet is pilfered. Who knew?

Support came on the heels of the request made by the Pirate King. First, [member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"] announced her presence with a very welcome thumbs up. Then, [member="Titan Verd"] broke his typical silence. He stood behind his Alor, which was a fact that brought untold sums of comfort to the Mandalorian. Then came the passionate proclamation by [member="Nolan Detta"], who pledged the lives of he and his Clan to the protection of their worlds. For a better tomorrow. It seemed as though some saw eye-to-eye with Isley on this matter; and some obviously did not. Such was the mixed bag of "politics" as it were. Regardless, the demonstration of faith on the part of his kinsman and Alor Detta was enough to momentarily halt the thumping in Isley's throat.

But then his youngest child, [member="Mór-rioghain"], spoke. If all his daughters were likened to seasons, then she without a doubt was Winter. Her words were cold - but not in malicious sense...sort of. It was clear that Mori was dissatisfied with the very culture that she advised that Isley stuck to; as evidenced by her mentioning it being crammed down his childrens' throats. In this particular circumstance, Isley was at a severe...disadvantage. On one hand, the Resol'nare demanded that he do just that: raise his children to be Mandalorian. On the other hand, Mori, and by extension her siblings [member="Nyx"] and [member="Runi Verin"], were well beyond the "children" phase. He met them as adults...already established in their ways and lifestyles. To them, his attempts at adhering to the ancestral tenets could easilt be perceived as thus.
I just can't win today. He thought. In truth, when it came to his children, those very words came to mind quite frequently. However, there would be a more appropriate time to deal with his internal disappointments...what mattered was responding to her opinion. "Mor'ika, if there's one thing any soul with a HoloNet connection knows...it's that Mandalorians do not tolerate treachery." He was, of course, referring to the Crusade spearheaded by Ra Vizsla against the Galactic Republic. For decades, they had been a cancer upon the Galaxy, and now the Sole Ruler had elected to cut them out. Those present within the Hall were perceptive enough to understand the Warmaster's reference, garnering a thunderous response from the Crusaders. The delegates, however, were quieter than they had been.

Isley could guess why. At their peak, the territory of the Galactic Republic was so immense that those now representing Crusader worlds most likely had direct contact. While they had not joined the cancerous body, they were immediately adjacent to it. The Crusade could be, frankly, taken as a jarring reality check. However, at least to one hooded individual, the event unfolding in the Great Hall was "Weak." Fortunately enough, the utterance had evaded the ears of the Mandalorian, for the beating of fists upon breastsplates easily overcame a single word. There would be no witch hunt for the origin of the transmitter this day.

This time, the Mandalorian raised his hand in order to bring an immediate conclusion to the thunder. While it was expected, and something Isley was personally used to, it did prevent others from voicing their opinions. However, when the next individual stood up, Isley secretly wished he had kept his hand down. If there was one person in his family who was as blunt as his eldest daughter [member="Deneve Verd"] - if not more so - it was [member="Keira Ticon"]. She was excellent when it came to "Mandalorian politics", and so a small part of him hoped that she would see eye-to-eye with his proposal. But Isley knew his sister. If she was of the same mind as him, he'd have gotten a nod or something. But her silence...it was damning.

And damn, did she have an opinion. Isley parted his lips, attempting to organize the gaggle of thoughts that perked up into a decent response. He wanted to bring up Yaga Minor, Saverok, and even Ra's venture in a coherent manner. But, before he could do so, he was beat to the punch by Patricia and his apprentice. Patricia accurately articulated what Isley thought about the peoples' perception of the Crusaders. While they knew that they weren't about to enslave the masses, the local population had no clue. All they had were the most explosive examples, ala Yaga Minor, and the constant media coverage of the Crusade. For any average soul living on any Crusader world, fear and unrest could easily settle into the gut. And from those emotions came dissent. Violence. Civil Conflict. The Crusaders did not need to be fighting a war on three fronts: Ra's Crusade, the Reclamation, and at Home.

Conversely, Zephyr encapsulated Isley's mindset about the Crusaders themselves to the letter. To put it simply, it was time to give their worlds a voice. It was time to say what needed to be said; but had yet to.

"Keira." he breathed. "Patricia and Zephyr have encompassed my thoughts spectacularly on the matter. While true, we have not intentionally acted in any dishonorable way, perception is perception. We know the facts that a rogue committed a terrorist act upon our extended kin, but does the Galaxy see it that way? Or does it see a Crusader wreaking havoc? We know the facts about Yaga Minor, but the Galaxy will only see the late Prime Minister and extensive collatoral damage. It's true, we as a culture place little value in words - but right now, this Covenant is more than just fancy words tossed around a Hall. We will always be Crusaders. We will always be Mandalorians. But to those living upon the reclaimed worlds, we will also be Guardians. They can rest assured, knowing that this Covenant guarantees their sovereignty."

That was...the best response he could give out of the convoluted mess that immediately came to mind. He hoped that would be enough to assuage his sibling, but that optimism was very slim. In the meantime, while he did not say so while addressing his sister, Isley's gratitude was once again evident to his Apprentice. If the Galaxy wanted to know more of the man leading the Crusade, all they had to do was look at Zephyr. And frankly, Isley couldn't be more proud of what they'd see.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Goran"] | [member="Gilad-abim"] | [member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"] | [member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Avedia Lacroix"] | [member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Titan Verd"]​

 

[Nyos Val]

Titan nodded along to the majority of other speakers, yet when one of his own clan spoke out so negatively, that of the Alor's own flesh, it stunned the giant momentarily. Her point was valid, but it came from an unexpected source.

When those speakers roused the crowd, Titan joined in the Thunder, slamming a giant gauntleted fist against his breastplate. It was good to see so many opinions without bloodshed for once. It was much unlike the last few meetings he'd been a part of in the UCM.

[member="Isley Verd"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Mór-rioghain"] [member="Aedan Miles"]