Junction A New Dawn | ME and THR Junction of Antar and TBD

[Pillar of Hope]

A NEW DAWN
… a Royal Naboo Republic and Mandalorian Empire Story

​

Once, the Royal Naboo Republic saw little difference between one Mand'alor and the next. The rise of the Neo-Crusaders had darkened Mandalorian armor with the stain of raids, and Naboo, ever a sanctuary of culture and diplomacy, watched warily from afar. So when a new leader claimed the iron crown of Mandalore, there was hesitation. There was doubt.

But something changed.

The Mand'alor, called the Iron, did not come with conquest on his tongue. He opened his halls instead. And in the Court of Iron, beneath the rising towers of Sundari, the first delegation from Naboo arrived. There, surrounded by stone and firelight, a promise was made. War was not inevitable. A different future could be forged.

Now the day of that promise has come.

Across the stars, two worlds prepare.

On Mandalore, within the fortified grandeur of the Court of Iron, a second Naboo delegation arrives. This time, they are led by Her Majesty herself. She walks the crimson halls with diplomats and defenders at her side. There will be no illusions. This is not yet an alliance. This is not yet friendship. But it is something stronger than distance. It is the will to understand. Within those ancient chambers, words will be exchanged that may reshape the future of the Outer Rim.

And on New Cov, far from the polished halls of diplomacy, another meeting begins.

Here, in the thick wilderness of a jungle world too dangerous for open settlement, warriors gather. Mandalorians clad in beskar. Soldiers and nobles of the Republic clad in ceremonial steel. No lives will be taken today. But pride will be tested. Prowess will be measured. An old fortress stands between them. The Republic will defend. Mandalore will assault. Blasters will fire, blades will ring, but no blood will be spilled. The battle is one of discipline and strength.

These two gatherings, one of parley and one of trial, are bound by a single truth.

If the Mandalorian Empire and the Royal Naboo Republic are to walk forward, it must be with open eyes and open hands. Strength alone will not shape their future. But through strength, and through understanding, they may yet find common ground.

Let the words begin. Let the warriors move. Let the future be written not in blood, but in bond.

OBJECTIVE I: THE PATH OF PARLEY
Location: The Court of Iron, Sundari, Mandalore
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The statues of Mand’alors past stand silent and tall, casting long shadows across the polished stone and scarlet light.

Here, in the heart of Sundari, the promise of diplomacy is put to the test. The Royal Naboo Republic has arrived in full—their monarch among them—to meet with the Mand’alor and his advisors face to face. It is a moment heavy with history. Shadows of past wars linger in the margins, and the scars of the Neo-Crusader assault are not so easily forgotten. But this is not a gathering of enemies. It is a conversation between nations who might yet find strength in one another. Agreements will be proposed. Cultural bridges will be explored. Tensions may rise. Bonds may form. This is where the future is shaped not by firepower, but by conviction, respect, and vision.

Diplomatic | Political negotiation, cultural exchange, tension and trust building, character-driven dialogue, and defining the future of two nations.

OBJECTIVE II: THE PATH OF TRIALS
Location: Jungle Expanse, Fortress Vale, New Cov
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There is no throne here. Only the wild.

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Deep within the deadly jungles of New Cov lies an ancient fortress, long abandoned, now chosen for a different kind of conflict. The Royal Naboo Republic has taken up defensive positions within its walls. The Mandalorian Empire comes to test them. This is no war. Lethal force is prohibited. But the challenge is real.

Mandalorians will strike with precision and ferocity. The Naboo will defend with strategy and resolve. No deaths. No true enemy. Only honor on the line. It is a proving ground. A rite of warriors. A chance to learn one another not through politics, but through skill, through endurance, through sweat and struggle beneath the jungle canopy.

Non-Lethal PvP | Combat, siege tactics, teamwork under pressure, proving strength through honorable battle.​

 

[Annis Riyaré]

OBJECTIVE 1 - THE WAY OF PARLEY

Annis Riyaré, Countess of Lopenthé, Senator of Naboo

Location: The court of Iron
Gear: Voidston bracelet
Tag:

Spoiler: wearing

The graceful senator of Naboo was amongst those that championed the cause of these mandalorians and as such it made sense for her to attend today. She walked along with one of her advisors whispering into her ear. They had made a joke between them earlier that Annis might marry the Mand'alor and cement a faction relationship in that manner, it made her feel like she was amongst the royal houses of old naboo.

He had also pointed out that a new person declares themselves Mand'alor with the sureness and regularity that the sun comes up at dawn. She knew this to be true, but respect for their culture, at least feigned respect was a commodity that cost nothing so she would not allow that discussion to continue, they were dealing with this Mand'alor, he was an ally, he held Mandalore and he had enough support to give him power and that was all that really mattered.

She would like to approach Aether Verd personally and her aides had ensured this was passed onto his offices, she had even brought a small gift, two candelabra, made of purest Beskar that had been found amongst her families collection. He would probamy melt them down, but the gift of the perculiarly loved metal was intended to by symbolic anyway.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

OBJECTIVE I: THE PATH OF PARLEY
Location: The Court of Iron, Sundari, Mandalore

The sleek Naboo vessel was a silver dagger sliding through the atmosphere. Raigryn remained on the periphery of the royal entourage.

He was old and troublesome and frequently rude, but he was also a seasoned diplomat and former military leader.

Raigryn wore colorful robes, as was typical on Naboo. Within those he had concealed a small flask. Among his troublesome traits was a tenancy to drink too much. A little shot of fine brandy for courage.

They were soon on the ground and walking into the Court of Iron. Iron, they would attach their love of metal into every title and moniker.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

OBJECTIVE I : THE PATH OF PARLEY
Court of Iron, Sundari, Mandalore

"Beskar?" Dominique didn't even look over at the attendants on either side as she strode from the landing area.

Those that had been polishing the final list of sought after items and negotiation terms jibbered. They waxed on about the steel's uses, and the high price that could be obtained for it. Its value was never in question. Its importance as a material or good being ferried about the galaxy undeniable for military applications -- though she'd heard a certain Senator of Naboo had candelabras made of it.

"No." The lilac-haired woman sighed and with a stroke of her finger removed it from the list. "Sometimes," Vexx spoke more to herself than any present, "having too many analysts can be detrimental. The cultural division clearly indicates in their report the importance beskar holds to them." A follow-up argument about certain Mandalorians could already be felt formulating in their minds. "Especially this one. I daresay this Mand'alor of Iron very nearly started a war over that former Mawite." Out of the corner of her eye she saw confusion cloud their faces. Dominique gave the smallest shake of her head before she shoved the pad into the chest of the one on her right. Perhaps they'd bother reading the report now.

It was possible, however. But Dominique expected they'd ask a Queen's ransom for it. An opportunity to keep an ear open for, anyways; perhaps the circumstances would be different if proper compensation were involved. Even if it were, Dominique wasn't going to have all those remote drooling over the prospect -- if it happened it happened, if it did not... they'd draft a new strategy.

Her radiant, golden eyes spied the delegation assembling ready to proceed inside. Dominique smiled and made a last check of her coat, which prompted the attendants to fuss and affirm her hair looked perfect, and her poised statuesque. One should look their best for the Mandalorians. Just because they wore armor all the time didn't mean their visual senses were duller.

Annis Riyaré | Raigryn Vayd | OPEN​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

OBJ II​

Lorn stood atop the crumbling wall of the ancient fortress, the jungle breathing below him like some titanic beast just out of sight. Dense canopies stretched in every direction, a riot of greens and shadows, pierced here and there by shafts of gold light. He'd been watching for hours, ever since the mists began to pull back from the treetops, revealing the battlefield that wasn't really a battlefield. Not this time.

He hated that. The not really part.

The air was thick, wet and heavy with a silence that wasn't silence at all, just the hush between movements. Birds cried out in strange dialects, and something enormous hissed deep in the undergrowth. Somewhere out there, Mandalorians waited. Planning. Measuring. The thought made his jaw clench.

He wasn't here to kill. He wasn't even here to win. Not officially. But deep in his bones he wanted to prove something. That the Republic could hold its own against these warriors bred for battle. That diplomacy didn't mean weakness. That elegance and honor didn't have to mean fragility.

His saber rested on his hip, dormant but charged. His soldiers were below, spread through the fortress like nerves through a spine. Every route mapped, every ambush laid. They were ready.

Lorn didn't speak. He just kept watching the tree line, calm and still, but not passive. Never that. His kind eyes scanned with the precision of someone who had seen too much, lost too much, and knew better than to believe promises at face value.

He wanted to win.

Not to humiliate them. Not even to dominate.

He wanted them to understand. The Republic could fight. And more dangerously, it chose not to.

@OPEN​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian entered the Court of Iron like a man strolling into a myth.

The others pressed forward, capes drawn, words rehearsed, entourages tidy and precise, but he drifted, caught for a moment between the scarlet glow and the monoliths of history that lined the hall. The statues of Mand'alors past loomed like guardians, grim-faced and unyielding, every one of them carved from legend and trauma. Each stood with purpose: hands on hilts, arms crossed, visors blank and watchful. Mandalore, it seemed, knew how to build a memory that could stare you down.

Aurelian tilted his head. His hair fell into his eyes, catching a shard of the firelight. He didn't brush it away.

He wore Naboo finery with a casual arrogance, silks tailored to accentuate a frame built for duels and dances alike, a ceremonial blade slung low on his hip like it might actually be used. His gaze flicked from one iron giant to the next, and a smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, just barely.

"This is either the tomb of kings or a particularly theatrical trap," he muttered, too low for most to hear. "Let's see which."

He trailed his fingers briefly along the base of one statue. Cold. Old. Solid. The kind of legacy that didn't flinch.

His curiosity, for now, outweighed his doubts.

Annis Riyaré | Raigryn Vayd | Dominique Vexx | @OPEN​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

COURT OF IRON - MANDALORE

The throne of Mandalore was not built for comfort. Iron and obsidian, shaped by heat and history, it rose from the dais like a blade driven into the heart of the Court itself. And upon it, still as a statue yet watchful as any hunter, sat the Mand’alor.

Aether Verd did not rise.

From his seat, the Court stretched outward in sacred geometry: stone and steel, scarlet banners, and the long crimson carpet that led from throne to threshold. Down its length marched the delegation from Naboo, their finery gleaming in the firelight. They passed between lines of Supercommandos, each bearing a spear of beskar longer than a man was tall. The warriors stood silent, unmoving, more ritual than threat.

Behind them loomed the past.

Statues of the Mand’alors of old, carved in iron and stone, lined the chamber like sentinels. Founders. Crusaders. Liberators. Even the ones whose names were spoken with gritted teeth. History, in Mandalore, was not erased. It was displayed, judged not by omission, but by presence.

When the final footstep fell and the chamber came to stillness, Aether finally spoke. His voice was not loud, but it filled the Court.

“Welcome to Mandalore.”

A pause, heavy with meaning.

“And for those whose boots have tread this stone before… welcome back.”

He let his visor drift across the gathered delegation, not with suspicion, but weight. As if measuring steel by the sound it made in the forge.

Then, subtly, he inclined his head toward one among them. Not a bow. A nod.

To the Senator of Naboo, who had made herself known long before her ship touched dirt. The twin candelabras her aides bore were unmistakable. Not gaudy, not overplayed: intentional. And her name had been on his desk before her face appeared beneath his roof.

Mandalore remembered.

But for now, he said nothing more. Let them settle. Let the echoes die down. The Court would not rush what mattered.​

Aurelian Veruna , Annis Riyaré , Raigryn Vayd , Dominique Vexx , Runi Kuryida , Aselia Verd , Ze'bast Verd , Kyrida Verd + Open