Private Dear Autocrat (Catharian Hegemony)

[Azel Moran]

To Autocrat Xzaien of the Catharian Hegemony:

My name is Azel Moran, bladesmith and master of the Dark Side. I would like to offer my exclusive services to you and your allies. I propose to make you the finest blades I've ever forged, on the condition that you use them. Your invasion of Bogo Rai sets you apart from the lazy fools who've commissioned my work in the past.

If my offer interests you, I'll be happy to meet while I visit Cathay in one week's time to evaluate local ores and metalwork.

Sincerely, Moran

 

[Xzaien]

A message was returned a day or so after Azel sent his message to Xzaien. A strange messenger arrived at Azel's base of operations. A man clad in white armor, and a half-enclosed helmet which only showed his jaws and lower lip, he'd place the letter on the ground infront of the gate. It arrived in a traditionally made undyed parchment, and sealed with a wax stamp. This stamp was was obviously hand stamped, and had the coat of arms of the Catharian Hegemony mushed into it. A dragon in this highly artistic shape and form.

Once the letter had been opened, Azel would be presented with a sheet of parchment. Written upon it with a clear archaically made ink pen. The words were written almost perfectly straight and had this formal flare to it. It read as follows:

"I have heard many things about your skills Master of Ren. Your skills at the forge, and your alchemical skills are unheard of even among my own Artisans. As such, I have read your message to me and debated it with my Council. I offer you this, as you have graciously offered your skills to my Throneworld. I can offer you a forge, the size of a small city, with apprentices and artisans all devoted to your work. I say that these Apprentices to your craft are the best men and women my people can drum up. I ask that these mastercrafted blades, armor, and weaponry be offered to all of my Dark Templars as a means to improve their power in the field of battle. However, these offerings do not come without cost and therefor I have a single condition. Unless you can turn them over to my cause, I ask that you sever all ties with the wider Galaxy as a whole and come live on my Throneworld, as a master craftsman. My people understand the value of cooporation, and I can see you richer and exalted than you have ever been in your life. I was see to it, that if you accept these terms, I will dispatch an Agent with a ship to cart you and your equipment off-world."​

With Kind Regards,
Autocratica Xzaien, autocrat of the Catharian Hegemony.

Signed, High Lords of Cathay
Director of Commerce, Aurelius Flavius.
Director of Space Command, Brigadier Commander Ioitha.
Craftsman Guild Grandmaster, 'Renu'.
General of the Army, Chapter Master Magus.
Navy High Command Head, Admiral Raxis Keyes
Azel Moran

 

[Azel Moran]

Azel's workshop was an open-air forge on Ilum, near an almost-defunct Dark Jedi academy. He'd found them incurious, unappreciative, and a poor source of good students. He set down his hammer and read the letter twice in the messenger's presence.

"Tell your ruler Xzaien I accept her offer and its terms. And give her this."

With ease, the big smith lifted a bulky metal shield off a rack and handed it to the messenger.

"A traditional Sith shield in a forgotten model. If your leader is half the Master I suspect, she'll understand how it works."

 

[Xzaien]

The Courier graciously took the Shield, where he then covered it with a leather cover. He'd turn briefly, and would dissapear into the distance. Not saying a word.

A few days would pass before a single Catharian Foray Class Blockade Runner was seen depositing itself above-planet, and slowly make a literal B line straight for Azel's workship. It landing nearby in a massive clearing and offloading a small group of plainly clothed individuals. Each of them were Cathar in species and make, and walked in unison.

Upon arriving to Azel's door, they'd knock upon and wait until he'd open it. The moment he did, one of them stepped forward and spoke. Introducing himself and his crew.

"I am X-6. This is X-2, and that is X-5. We're here to extract you sir. Pack up your things, we'll help you along the way."

Azel Moran ​

 

[Azel Moran]

Xzaien

The Cathar crew's deliberate uniformity spoke of a highly regimented organization and/or cloning, which was interesting.

"Most of the forge is packed up already. I sealed the last crates when the academy's sensors picked up your ship."

There wasn't much left but the bare firepit, wood and stone racks and shelves, and the shelter itself. Everything else - materials, tongs, drifts, punches, hammers, grinders, sanders, hardness testers, Svolten rhyolite whetstones - rested in the same hardshell cases that he'd used to bring it here last year. Azel drew on the Force, hefted his multi-hundred-pound alchemical anvil barehanded, and started loading.