The Wars to Come

[Lucius Draugh]

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SITH SPACE​

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Undisclosed Location;​

Ne'tra Fleet​

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And now it begins.​

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A single ship materialized from the bright streaks of hyperspace.

Back home in the First Order, an investigation into the mystery Mandalorians was going on, but it had reached a dead end. They had gathered as much information as they could before the Supreme Commander took matters into his own hands. A message was sent, through lines of communication through the Sith Empire to the infamous Clan Vizla. The Sith Lord had his own duties to attend to, and his most loyal servant was sent in his place instead.

Lucius Draugh.

From the cockpit of the Daisya Infiltrator, Lucius looked out past the viewport and past the opening hangar doors of the gargantuan warship, to the ships outside.

"Right," he says. "Announce us." he says before he left the pilot to his own devices as he went to get himself ready. Not too many words to say. He would save them for the mission at hand.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Lucius Draugh"]

The meeting was pre-established.

No surprise when the warship reversed from hyperspace.

The distance between the fleet and the ship was safe. Secure. Far away enough that it would take precious time to get into position for firing solutions. This made sense, because at this point their objectives weren't yet clear to one another. The First Order had reason to consider it suspect- Clan Vizsla suddenly working with the Outer Rim against them. Why? It made little sense. But any nation worth their salt checked. Double checked. Made sure that it all made sense.

The announcement was received.

A greeting was returned, before codes were exchanged for safe passage.

By the time Lucius Draugh's shuttle arrived in the hangar bay, there was already an entourage waiting for him. Mandalorians that would escort him to Ronan Vizsla in his office.

[member="Tamara Wren"]

 

[Tamara Wren]

Armed and armored- there was no other way to expect to be greeted. The trio of armored mandalorians waited in the bay, only stepping forward when the gangway of the ship in question finally lowered. Two paused halfway, standing stiffly, their faces masked and hidden. The woman at the front however was bare faced. Her helmet under one arm.

Ronan's daughter, Tamara, greeted their guests, fist of her left hand rising to her chest and staying there.

"Lucius Draugh, welcome to the Spirit of Fire." Tamara spoke softly, but the sound had no trouble reaching the man she was greeting as he stepped out of his ship. He was younger than she had expected, but there was no reaction to that realization.

"My name is Tamara Wren. I've been asked by my father to escort you to his office. If you'll come this way please?"

She waited patiently- assuming he agreed she would lead him on to the meeting. If he had questions, she would do her best to answer them. If not.... Ronan Vizsla was waiting.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]
[member="Lucius Draugh"]

 

[Lucius Draugh]

Walking down the ramp, Lucius' features spread out into a smile, flanked on either side by a duo of crimson marked stormtroopers.

So far, it wasn't a trap to assassinate an Imperial official, aqnd there were no bounties on Imperial teenagers, as far as he was concerned, but the emotion lingered, in the back of his mind as if it was looming behind him.

But he was more curious than afraid.

"Okay," came his simple answer as he followed the woman.

He had never met a Mandalorian before, let alone journeyed to an armada of their ships.

Fighting, was what he had been interested in, but he had been taught numbers instead, supplies and logistics. Not something that was overtly interesting, but he grasped it with the hope for what he sought.

"Why is your name Wren instead of Viz-sluh?" The intonation of his words was curiosity. He was on his way to business, but he hadn't gotten there yet. He hoped to at least go back to the Order with a better understanding of how these rogues worked, whether they targeted the Imperials or not.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"], [member="Tamara Wren"]

 

[Tamara Wren]

Tamara blinked, tilting her head slightly to look at him.

"Because my mother is a Wren," she said after a moment, gaze moving ahead again. The tone was matter of fact.

It was an odd question to her- the clans were not strictly patriarchal. It was not uncommon for people within a family to have different clan names. In this case Wren was an underhouse of Vizsla, which made it even less strange. But their ways weren't others ways.

She did not go into the specific why's that surrounded her choice to keep that name. As a reminder of the choice that had been made, and to never take for granted the life she lived. As a reminder of the woman who would have left her out on the mountain to die as an infant because of a deformed hand. The name wasn't kept out of love or loyalty. It was kept so as not to forget, for a moment, that everything she was boiled down to the instant her father had said no.

The distance was not great to Ronan's office. She stepped through the door first, fist rising to her chest in greeting before stepping out of the way.

"Lucius Draugh, of the First Order."

[member="Lucius Draugh"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Lucius Draugh]

Guess she doesn't like to talk.

It was a short distance to their journey to their destination and the young Force wielder had deigned to keep his mouth shut up until the point that they got there.

When [member="Tamara Wren"] introduced him, he figured it best to step forwards to present himself.

"On behalf of the Order's Supreme Commander, I apologize that he couldn't make it." Wherever his Master was, he imagined it was vastly more important than anything the Mandalorians had going on. Jedi hunting, maybe. But when had he ever done that? "Rest assured that I speak with his voice today," his voice an attempt of friendly professionalism.

"It's a singular pleasure to meet you."

[member="Tamara Wren"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Lucius Draugh"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

He glanced up from his papers and noticed Lucius.

Young.

A pup, if anything. But then- Tamara was young as well and that didn't make her any less deadly, no? If this Supreme Commander of the First Order was worth his salt, he would have made sure that Lucius was similarly competent and trained. He grunted at that etiquette, gesturing for Tamara to stand with him. Sometimes she was made to stand at the side. A bystander. Watching and observing, but not participating. This would not be the case today.

It was time to train her more.

"The Order wanted to speak to me. Here you are." Pushing the papers away, leaning deeper into his chair. "What do you want?"

If Tamara seemed disinterested in talking then Ronan seemed as diplomatic as a brick wall.

Or a boulder rolling off the hill.

This wouldn't be a major surprise to Draugh though. Vizsla's nature wasn't a secret to anyone.

 

[Lucius Draugh]

Graush hadn't wanted to teach Draugh anything combat related. Just enough to keep the requests and the yearning for more present, but never enough. If it came down to it, Lucius was certain a well trained stormtrooper could kill him in single combat, let alone Mandalorians, renowned for being bred for war.

The hard and concise nature was one Lucius was used to. His Master didn't waste time bandying words. It was often the highly dangerous warriors that used few words to communicate.

A man of action. Very well.

The cheerful disposition flickered for a moment, lessening as it transformed into a more neutral appearance. Best to not aggravate them with kind, pretty words and faces.

"We fought against suspected mercenaries wearing Mandalorian armour. The paint designs of the armour matches your Clan's, among others that fight along side the Sith Empire, our common ally." A datapad, hooked to his hip was produced, activated and set on the table as Lucius approached. "They're dead now, but our internal feeds captured this." A single clip of the Mandalorian borders in their painted garbs of Munin, Fett, and Vizsla.

"All we want... Is the people responsible."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"], [member="Tamara Wren"]

 

[Tamara Wren]

She had intended to settle herself right inside the door, staying to the back of the room. But no, Ronan had other plans.

Tamara didn't want to lead. She never had. Ronan knew that but it had reached a point where it didn't matter any longer. She would know what he did, the hows and whys, because he wouldn't live forever. The clans did not follow strict bloodlines for leadership, but the situation was strange now with so many of them living ship board in a fleet that someone owned. When the time came would they follow her?

Did she want them to?

She moved around to behind the desk as indicated, for the moment listening rather than speaking. Though when he showed the clip she leaned forward, frown flickering over her face.

"We were not at that battle," she said confidence. "I do not recognize who that would be, however, but we have enemies. Some earned, some from pettiness."

Tamara didn't have any illusions. There were certainly those that hated them for good reasons. Ronan Vizsla and those who followed him were not saints. Despite that, she did not think that it could be other mandalorians who would so flagrantly impersonate them. That was low, and beneath their code.

She glanced at her father, expectant and waiting, because perhaps he recognized them. She had been insular growing up, something that was a drawback now.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Lucius Draugh"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Lucius Draugh"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

Ronan studied the recording impassively.

His colors. Fett's. Munin's.

If it had been just his own paint? He might have bought it. There had been those that stuck with the Mandalorian Empire. No longer following him, but Vizsla of their own brand. But Fett? Clan Fett had been decimated during the Red Coronation. As far as he knew, there weren't enough of them out there (outside of his House) to make up those kind of numbers. Munin? They all followed [member="Vilaz Munin"] and as a result him. They wouldn't have joined this battle.

Skor...

He remembered the only time he had been there.

His fight with [member="Runi Verin"]. He had left her for dead, there. Because of the failure of the others, forcing him to pull out with what he could take. It had been an annoyance. Frustrating. Either way- "What nation has access to beskar'gam aplenty. Who hold ill will against my House. Who chafe at the shackles of friendship of the Emperor?" It seemed obvious to him. More than obvious. But he didn't immediately voice it, instead waiting to see if either of the two young ones would see it for themselves.

Either Tam or this young lad.

Only if they both failed at it, would he fill it in for them.

Always a lesson with Ronan Vizsla.

 

[Lucius Draugh]

Snapping his gaze over to [member="Tamara Wren"] when she spoke, he was in the process of formulating his own response when her father apparent decided to speak once more.

So the Mandalorians really are fighting amongst each other.

Don't think the Imperials knew that.

This time when Draugh's lips parted, he actually spoke.

"The Order was loathe to believe it to be true." It hadn't been too long before the second battle of Skor II that the First Order had met with their Mandalore and advisors. Or, were meant to at least. "Nonetheless, the vessels they used, our Security Bureau was able to track them back to MandalArms." Emerald orbs flickering back and forth between the two Mandalorians. A giant fleet. Probably don't have widespread access to shipyards. Best to be cautious though. Neutral expression presented as he ruled out the Vizsla Mandalorians, he spoke again.

"We have the resources to strike back," the claim was bold. Lucius could almost taste the scent of blood in the air. "We just need you... To guide the hammer."

True enough. The Mandalorians that [member="Ronan Vizsla"] had exiled himself from spanned across multiple systems. Too many for the Bureau to search and investigate for the perfect locations for extermination. Former brothers in arms? They'd know more.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Lucius Draugh"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

He wondered if this was a step too far.

Guide an aruetii's hand against the Mandalorian Empire.

Vizsla detested what they had become under the watchful eye of the Hell Wolf, but they remained Mando'ade, no? Blood. Blood that only his hand should spill. But perhaps that was his own bloodlust speaking. His own desire to destroy what the child had forged. It was folly. [member="Entye Shysa"] had said it best himself. Use the aruetii like a hammer, then discard them after the deed was done. This did not mean that Vizsla would turn against the Imperials.

No point to it.

But they did not make brethren, simply because of a shared enemy.

"Strike at Myrkr and you take their ability to stand against the Force. [member="Kaine Australis"] and his ilk make their home there, if the ships are MandalArms, he will have had his hand in it." A thoughtful gaze then. "Strike at Sundari and you take their food. Mandalore? You take their soul."

If it troubled him to suggest Mandalore as the target? Ronan Vizsla did not show it.

He had lost his soul a long time ago, he cared little for the current customs now. Even then. Mandalore was an idea. Some believed the planet was holy. This was foolish. Tradition made Mandalore whichever world Mand'alor choose to be their seat.

No Mand'alor now? No home that Ronan acknowledged, except his own.

"What more do your Masters need, boy?"