D O M I N U S
Matters of State.
The Mandalorian Empire was expanding. It was clear to all that the nation was here to stay – unless divine calamity befell them. Whatever opponent that laid in wait, Mand'alor the Reclaimer and his warriors would cut them down. However, that did not make the Mando'ade fools. Although a decision that had picked at old wounds, a truce was brokered between the Clans and the One Sith Empire: a truce still honored by Isley himself. It was not an agreement any Mandalorian was entirely fond of, treating with the enemy and whatnot. But. It provided all Mandalorians a valuable resource.
Time.
For years, the United Clans prepared to weather the storm of the Sith. And Isley honestly believed that, at one point, they were strong enough to accomplish that task. Yet the Primeval, Akala, and Death Watch shook them vigorously. Wayland was lost...and it was all downhill from there. Thus did this truce buy the Mandalorian people a precious commodity: time enough to set their feet upon solid ground. Since then...it seemed as though the "gift" was not being utilized to its fullest extent. Isley laid claim to the title of Mand'alor and cut out his own Empire, yes; but his election to do so was upon realizing just how lost his people were.
They needed more time. And how much Isley did not know.
What's more, whispers flew upon the wind. Whispers of a Dark Lord who no longer drew breath. Whispers of divisions born within the seemingly impenetrable Empire. Whispers of momentum being gained by the Galactic Alliance. The Mand'alor could not immediately discern the truth of these claims, but as a man focused upon the future, he had to prepare. In the event that the One Sith endured...then steps would have to be taken to prevent the fledgling Empire from being consumed. And if it didn't...then Isley had to prepare for what remnants would arise in the wake.
Thus did Isley do a hard thing. He accepted.
[member="Izevel Zambrano"] was...the living embodiment of his youthful endeavors. With her did three children enter the world – and with her did he experience some of the more pleasant years of his life. Mercenary work. Bounty hunts. All to return to a fiery embrace. Those indeed were the days. Yet now, the time had come to...accept an offer made by the patriarch of her family: [member="Darth Carnifex"]. A union, one of blood, that would align the Houses Verd and Zambrano evermore. A union that would, in the Mand'alor's eyes, would purchase him that precious commodity.
Time.
Per his acceptance, the union was set to occur in the manner dictated by tradition. Mandalorian tradition. Small, quiet, and away from prying eyes. A silent balcony, overlooking the sunset of Dubrillion was chosen: and Isley awaited. Slashed in polished, Crimson beskar'gam, the Mand'alor awaited his old flame.
By the Gods, what am I doing...
The Mandalorian Empire was expanding. It was clear to all that the nation was here to stay – unless divine calamity befell them. Whatever opponent that laid in wait, Mand'alor the Reclaimer and his warriors would cut them down. However, that did not make the Mando'ade fools. Although a decision that had picked at old wounds, a truce was brokered between the Clans and the One Sith Empire: a truce still honored by Isley himself. It was not an agreement any Mandalorian was entirely fond of, treating with the enemy and whatnot. But. It provided all Mandalorians a valuable resource.
Time.
For years, the United Clans prepared to weather the storm of the Sith. And Isley honestly believed that, at one point, they were strong enough to accomplish that task. Yet the Primeval, Akala, and Death Watch shook them vigorously. Wayland was lost...and it was all downhill from there. Thus did this truce buy the Mandalorian people a precious commodity: time enough to set their feet upon solid ground. Since then...it seemed as though the "gift" was not being utilized to its fullest extent. Isley laid claim to the title of Mand'alor and cut out his own Empire, yes; but his election to do so was upon realizing just how lost his people were.
They needed more time. And how much Isley did not know.
What's more, whispers flew upon the wind. Whispers of a Dark Lord who no longer drew breath. Whispers of divisions born within the seemingly impenetrable Empire. Whispers of momentum being gained by the Galactic Alliance. The Mand'alor could not immediately discern the truth of these claims, but as a man focused upon the future, he had to prepare. In the event that the One Sith endured...then steps would have to be taken to prevent the fledgling Empire from being consumed. And if it didn't...then Isley had to prepare for what remnants would arise in the wake.
Thus did Isley do a hard thing. He accepted.
[member="Izevel Zambrano"] was...the living embodiment of his youthful endeavors. With her did three children enter the world – and with her did he experience some of the more pleasant years of his life. Mercenary work. Bounty hunts. All to return to a fiery embrace. Those indeed were the days. Yet now, the time had come to...accept an offer made by the patriarch of her family: [member="Darth Carnifex"]. A union, one of blood, that would align the Houses Verd and Zambrano evermore. A union that would, in the Mand'alor's eyes, would purchase him that precious commodity.
Time.
Per his acceptance, the union was set to occur in the manner dictated by tradition. Mandalorian tradition. Small, quiet, and away from prying eyes. A silent balcony, overlooking the sunset of Dubrillion was chosen: and Isley awaited. Slashed in polished, Crimson beskar'gam, the Mand'alor awaited his old flame.
By the Gods, what am I doing...