Character
| Location | Previous territory of the Imperial Confederation
When the Imperial Confederation met its inevitable downfall, it was anything but silent. Warlords emerged from the murky darkness of Imperial Politics, hoisting their banners high, each one with the promise of victory and a restoration of the order that others had failed to uphold—always others to blame. Long-standing grievances ignited into furious confrontations, erupting in a chaotic haze of blaster fire and explosions, leaving the echo of civil war to rebound across the stars. As the dreadful forces of their former master's foes descended upon them, once proud members of the Empire fled in all directions, seeking safety and prosperity wherever the opportunity might linger.
The Steadfast Accord was one such ship, a civilian transport vessel that had seen better days, yet continued to function despite all statements to the contrary. Once gleaming with the brand-markings of a forgotten starship foundry, nowadays, the hull was ravaged with the trials of time, dulled and scarred after centuries of service. The interior wasn't much better, with cramped maintenance corridors and ancient machinery that often forgot to deliver the status reports it was meant to send to the bridge and other communication sites. By all means, it was a poor prize, though perhaps one had assumed, with the nature of the vessel, it would allow those within to slip through the tightening jaws of greater threats.
Itzhal Volkihar doubted they would ever know; what they did know, however, was that a distress signal had been reported only a few minutes before the vessel had spiralled out of hyperspace with smoke spiralling from multiple sectors and frantic claims of former Imperials attempting to assault the bridge. It had been fortunate, then, that a Gozanti-type Light Frigate had been in the area, recently departed from Mandalorian Space and on its way to investigate the situation along their borders. Even then, it could have ignored them, dismissed the message as nothing more than a trap.
The Galaxy always did have its strange sense of humour—a raiding vessel for a counter-raid.
Faint hisses seeped through the nearby walls and ceilings, the journey of gases facilitated by a network of pipes hidden beneath the cold metal plates of the air-lock. Itzhal shifted his weight, a slight twist to the pressure on his right leg as the thin chains beneath his boots rattled ever so slightly. Around him, a wide array of Mandalorians stood in various degrees of readiness for the situation ahead.
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Reina Daival
Reina Daival