I Was Promised A Riding Crop [ FO | ME ]

[Ra Vizsla]

First Order: [member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Natasi Fortan"]
Mandalorian Empire: [member="Aryn Spar"] [member='Ra Vizsla']
Location: The Road To The First Order Capital of Dosuun, Avalonia

Mand'alor the Undying and Shukalar of the Cuir Rekr has already been granted landing permits outside the city, and were here on business to represent the Mandalorian Empire in opening talks with the First Order. Usually, it was custom for a leader of a government to meet at a place of greater comfort and security for both sides - but Ra did not fear their capture, nor their execution. Mand'alor was one of the most dangerous positions alive to tamper with subtlely - to cause such a massive grievance to the Mandalorian people would surely exact revenge. They were well known for their ability to call a Great Crusade, as they had done before, at a moment's notice.

No, Ra wanted to see this great Capital for himself. He had been unaccustomed with the First Order, but upon his return to civility, wished to meet with them now more than ever.

The two - Aryn of Clan Spar and Ra - had opted to enjoy the countryside by walking. It was also quite far to their greeting party rendevouz, and most would've opted for a speeder escort, but they had arrived early specifically for this. Ra had a great infatuation with nature, and he knew Aryn - ever the grump - would find some solace in it as well.

Still, though, the planet of Dosuun did not sing like Mandalore. Beautiful in it's own right, though.

A saddled Dantooine turkey slowly trotted behind them, quickly darting its eyes in paranoia to the left and right and above, unaccustomed to this unusual atmosphere.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]

Aryn stepped closely alongside the Mand'alor, the heavy golden plates of his armor clinking together as they walked down the dirt path. His one good eye was set on the horizon in front of them, his gaze drifting every now and again with the path of the road that still lay ahead. There was a severe lack of expression to his features, the slash across his face having embedded itself deep enough to be unsettling for even the most grizzled of soldiers.

No fur grew upon the gash anymore, and although the wound had somewhat healed it was obvious Aryn bore the scars of the civil war.

The Togorian's heavy footfalls tromped into the ground, deep claw marks left in the soil beneath him. Dosuun was not a world he had ever wanted to visit, in fact it was a world he had not even known existed until the Mand'alor informed him of their travels there. It was not that he was ignorant, rather that he'd never bothered much with the expansion region. He'd never thought to travel this far into the reaches of the galaxy, a fact that struck him as humorous now.

He did not break the silence as they continued to walk.

There was no real need to speak or plan, no debate to be had.

Better to just continue on without words and find whoever it was that they were meeting.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

​

First Order: [member="Rolf Amsel"] (Sieger Ren) | [member="Natasi Fortan"]​

Mandalorian Empire: [member="Aryn Spar"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"]​

Location: Wild Space \\ Dosuun \\ Avalonia​

The weather was favorable, contrary to the forecast. Apparently the storm that had been headed straight for the planets capital had suddenly changed direction in the last six hours, intead leaving a murky gray streak across the otherwise cheery sky. Where normally children and families could be seen walking through the sprawling lawn and parks surrounding the square, today there were fewer but even still several had found their way towards the Capitol grounds. Banners of the First Order had been unfurled at dawn, quietly rippling in the gentle breeze that passed through the trees. Big things were happening, things that even the headiest of the First Order's government officials might not have the capacity to fully grasp. And yet there it was, the flap of the butterfly's wings that might later generate a hurricane. It was just as likely that it would generate nothing, nothing but a minute gust of wind.

At the edge of the city there was a road, in fact there were many, however this one led towards a lesser used spaceport. One not commonly used for diplomatic envoys but it had been done as a matter of security, or at least that's what the majority of the media outlets were reporting. Whether it was true or not was irrelevant. As it was, the First Order's guests had chosen the longer route, away from the curious eyes of the population. For the moment, Sieger was content to let them do so.

The Supreme Leader knew as much as anyone else in the galaxy about the rising force that had declared themselves the Mandalorian Empire, their government known to have endured no small struggle in the recent past. The violence on Mandalore, the recent Civil War, all testaments to the resilience of the Mandalorian spirit. A small piece of a much larger galactic puzzle, but one not easily ignored. The name Ra Vizsla was one not uttered without caution, a capable warrior, a true leader who not only wore the mantle of his people but bore it into battle. It was a contrast to Sieger's own methods, that he would admit. The galaxy at large had been a turbulent sea in the recent days, large political moves, alliances struck and defensive pacts signed - it spoke of shifting power.

The presence of the Mandalorian envoy, if one could call it that, had been observed by the Supreme Leader himself despite the distance from the Capitol building to their point of arrival. As they had disembarked a summons had been made of the Grand Moff, Natasi Fortan. The two would meet the envoy together.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi stalked along the marble corridors of the palace with her principle aide, [member="Clémence Wallace"], matching her pace. "It is a curious system of government," said the aide as they rounded a corner.

"Perhaps," Natasi said. "Though I would caution against making judgments based on the limited intelligence we have on them. But if it's all as it appears then, yes." She tapped a button on the turbolift and paused to wait for the car to arrive. "But perhaps no stranger than our own. There are those within our own government who struggle with our system -- it seems neither fish, flesh, foul or good red herring, but somehow it works for us. I assume that for whatever is curious to outsiders, the Mandalorian system works for Mandalorians."

The turbolift doors opened, and the women entered. "The ones who survive, anyway," said Clémence under her breath.

"None of that," Natasi gently chastised. She understood her aide's hesitation regarding the Mandalorians; to call their culture brutal and wartorn would be a massive understatement. It would be easy to be intimidated by warriors of their caliber and historical significance. Natasi didn't quite share her concerns; as a leader of a nation that she had helped to build from fledgling outposts to galactic superpower, she was used to intimidating others, not the other way around. The turbolift doors opened and Natasi handed the binder she had been reading back to her aide. "Thank you. Hold all my calls."

Clémence nodded, looking ashen. She knew that beyond the turbolift doors, and beyond the guarded doors ahead, stood the Supreme Leader -- that was someone who easily intimidated her, and she had no desire to meet him face to face in this moment. The moment Natasi stepped off the lift, Wallace jammed the floor select buttons until the doors closed. Natasi, for her part, could understand her trepidation; the Supreme Leader was perhaps the only man in the known universe who frightened Natasi. He seemed, in turns, benevolent and capricious, reasonable and tyrannical, stable and volatile. She never knew which way he would move; she never knew just where she stood with him.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and strolled forward. The doors opened and she entered the Supreme Leader's presence chamber. When she was within three arms lengths of the Supreme Leader, she dropped into a deep curtsy -- a difficult feat to manage considering her extremely pregnant shape -- and lowered her gaze to the floor. "My Lord," she murmured.

[member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]​

 

[Ra Vizsla]

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

Aryn wasn't really one for speeches nor banter. He was probably the worst ambassadorial partner the Mand'alor could ask for, though he often enjoyed prodding the lion's inept social abilities.

"I'm guessing you were in charge of letting them know where we'd be," Ra pointed out, as no greeting party had met with them yet.

Of course he hadn't been, Ra had chosen the location.

"Did you dig into any of those sour grapes we passed a kilometer back?"

The Undying's lips spread into a hearty alabaster smile.

"Try smiling, Shukalar. We're diplomats today. C'mon, give it the ol' one-two."

The two of them had come within shouting distance of the Capitol.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]

The Togorian stared down at the Mand'alor in a refutation of everything that the man said.

Ra knew well that he had not been the one to pick the meeting site, nor had he eaten any 'sour grapes' as she called them. In fact Aryn was reasonably sure that such a fruit actually did not exist and if it did they most certainly didn't grow here on Dosuun either. He wasn't so simple as to not understand 'humor', but the Mand'alor made a poor showing of it. Aryn was as willing to laugh as the next Mandalorian, but the joke had to at least be good.

To the Mand'alors last comment Aryn stopped for a second.

His eye wandered over the distant capital, then towards Ra. Slowly his lips furled back, exposing his large beskar teeth in what might have been an attempt at a smile though really came out looking far more like a snarl. After a moment passed his expression returned to normal. "Smiling."

Aryn began.

"Is not a Togorian custom." Not really. "Our expression are read in other ways."

 

[Ra Vizsla]

[member="Aryn Spar"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"]

Ra was ever the comedian. Everyone back at the Sundari Palace always laughed at his jokes. Though... it did dawn on Ra, in this moment as the Togorian didn't laugh at his own, that no one outside the Palace ever found the Mand'alor explicitly humorous. Surely a slave that had been raised in violence and intrigue until he became one of the most tyrannical dictators of Manda'yaim, overseeing one of the most brutal conflicts the planet had ever witnessed, had a great sense of humor. It was Shukalar and those like him that were unfunny.

As expressed in this moment of struggled smiling.

"Oh, trust me my Togorian friend, I've come to understand that."

Ra stopped before the steps of the Capitol.

"No welcoming party for the Mando'ade?"

The street was very empty. The steps were very quiet. The Capitol loomed over them both. Ra stood, aghast. He expected fine women, riches, and a lavish display of power that would stand ever defiant in the face of mighty Mandalore. Yet all he witnessed was an eerie silence and perhaps a tumbleweave or two passing by on the street.

Dave, the Turkey, gobbled nervously.

"Come, Shukalar," Ra pulled on Dave's reins after a moment of silence and observation. "Let's go find a cantina." Ra began walking their turkey away from the Capitol and towards the inner city.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]

"Perhaps we are early." Aryn suggested with an empty wave of his hand.

The suggestion was really the only thing he could think of, though even if that was true he had expected this city to be a bit more...flourishing. The buildings were nice of course, the surrounding structures were brilliant and beautiful, but where were the people? He frowned for a moment. Perhaps the culture of the First Order was different than what he had thought, though that should be no true surprise. He knew that Mandalorians functioned far differently than most others.

He glanced around one more time, following alongside the Mand'alor as they wandered the streets.

As they wandered Aryn couldn't help but start to feel as though this were an ambush. His fur prickled slightly, his ears twitched. Were it him he would set upon them from the roof tops, swarm them before they even had a chance to react.

Surely the First Order wouldn't attempt such thins. Not against the Mand'alor.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Clémence Wallace appeared at the top of the steps to the palace, attaché case in hand and swinging as she plopped down the steps in a rush. In the distance, the clocktower in Vivctory & Memorial Park chimed quarter-to; the honor guard was to escort their visitors from the plaza on the hour, but one of her colleagues had postulated that they were already in the plaza and beginning to leave. Clémence had never run quite so fast in quite so high of heels, and it was all she could do to approach a dignified speed and gait by the time she caught up to the Mandalorian... delegation as they approached the exit of the plaza.

If you could call a hulking warrior and a giant cat a delegation.

"It is you," she breathed in relief. "Thank goodness. I'm so sorry, there seems to have been some sort of miscommunication as to the schedule -- our fault, I'm sure," she said with an easy but apologetic smile, though inside she was outraged at the proposition that her timetable could be wrong. "If you'll come this way, please. The Grand Moff is eager to make your acquaintance." Strictly speaking, Clémence wasn't sure this was the case, but certain diplomatic niceties had to be observed.

The senior aide led the two representatives -- if they would follow -- back through the plaza and to the palace, occasionally pointing out a piece of interest (like the cracked column, damaged during the Siege of Dosuun, and the massive statue of Sieger Ren that dominated the center of the palacial lobby. When they stepped onto the turbolift, she keyed her comlink, sending a coded message to Natasi to let them know they were taking the visitors to the Imperial Conference Room -- so named for its commanding view of the capital as well as the thronelike chair at the center of one side of the table -- usually used by Natasi during on-site cabinet meetings but this time no doubt to be filled by the Supreme Leader himself.

Several stories up, Natasi rose from her bow. "It's time, my Lord." She turned and headed for the turbolift.

[member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Indeed. It was that time.

An expression of indifference rest upon Sieger's features, a subtle nod at the Grand Moff's gesture of subservience - or protocol, he couldn't be entirely sure which. Their relationship hadn't been strained per se, to assume that there would have to have been a relationship with which to strain. Once they had been closer, perhaps when Sieger had been less distant. As things were, he had found himself consumed by shadow, withdrawn from the responsibilities of government. Natasi had stepped up, guiding the First Order through not only a bloody war with the Galactic Alliance, but on the heels of an occupation of Dosuun itself by the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium. Times had been trying, and wherever they had looked Sieger was not to be found, instead the stalwart figure of Natasi Fortan had arisen.

It was in her he'd put his trust as he delved deeper into shadow, barely appearing save to those highest in the hierarchy. Even then, sparingly. Sieger was no fool, he had brought the First Order out of obscurity, fought tooth and nail to establish his own little empire, a safe place in the galaxy in which there would be no more chaos nor anarchy. They had succeeded, at least in part. Conflict was natural, especially once the expansion of the Order and the Alliance had nestled up next to adjacent star systems. The battles fought had been bloody on both sides, but by all accounts the First Order had forced the Alliance to sign a cease fire. Officially the war was still going even if open warfare had been stalled - to think that nothing had happened behind the scenes was naive. Even so, conflict had yet to reignite - for that many were thankful. Sieger had his own thoughts about it, but that was neither here nor there. What was here were a pair of representatives from the fledgling Mandalorian Empire. Ra Vizsla himself no less.

Little of Mandalorian history was known to the Supreme Leader for it played little relevance to his own interests but with the passing of time, perhaps that had changed. What he did know is that they were a proud people, bloodied often but never broken - even if their home world had been nearly cracked in half. They were tenacious in battle, an enemy many before had underestimated and paid the price. Not all so long ago the Galactic Republic had fallen, pushed over the edge by the Mandalorian assault on the planet of Kashyyyk. The violence was well documented, even if it had been from a biased source. Where many saw savagery and barbarism, Sieger saw practicality, a desire for survival, grit and resilience. Not anywhere near the inspirational quotient of his own rise to power or those soldiers sworn to serve the First Order, but one that would be foolish to ignore. Though Sieger's knowledge of the small galactic power was in want, he did know of some of the more recent events - namely the death of Ra Vizsla during the Omega Conflict. How the man had managed to survive such certain doom was unknown but the fact the man still drew breath was enough to peak Sieger's interest.

The Supreme Leader took a deep breath, picking himself up from where he sat. His body still benefit from increased vitality, the once aged figure now a font of energy and life. It was as if years had been taken back, his body stronger and his pallor much more vibrant. A stopgap - even Sieger Ren would face mortality as any other man, but the survival of Ra Vizsla gave him pause. Perhaps there was a way out there, a way to continue on even after the body had failed. Obscure references in ancient text were the most he had thus far been able to locate, but that would change soon, it had to change soon.

"Let us go to meet them."​

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As they walked, he took a moment to rest his eyes on the woman who walked a hair behind, motioning for her to join him in step rather than follow.​

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"Natasi.." He said, using the Grand Moff's first name. "..How are you holding up dear, with the child?"​

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It was an uncharacteristically kind sentiment, though perhaps dual in nature. The weight of the woman's responsibility had grown exponentially from the days she was a mere Commissioner, now the Grand Moff of one of the most successful empires the galaxy had ever seen - at least in present day. If anyone knew anything about feeling tired, it was Sieger. Whether the Grand Moff would see the question as a subtle questioning of her ability or a genuine question even the Supreme Leader couldn't predict.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]​

 

[Ra Vizsla]

[member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Natasi Fortan"] [member="Aryn Spar"]

Ra stopped, looking at the girl. His head turned to Aryn.

Then back to the girl.

"Damn.

I really wanted that drink. Lead the way, girl."

His metallic voice emptied through his helmet.

"I hope your people know a good jawa juice."