Mando Finesse (Mandalorian Dominion of Serenno)

[Strider Garon]

SERENNO​

​

In Orbit: Mandalorian Delegation

Serenno was a beautiful planet, covered with ocean’s and rich rain forests that one could get lost in for weeks. The thought brought images of home to Strider, grabbing essentials and just walking off into the abysse of outbacks on Mandalore. Maybe one day the old warrior shall do the same here, take a walk about just for the sake of getting lost. No Galactic pressure baring upon old worn shoulders. Just pure survival and the thrill of keeping alive where nothing more on your mind then food and shelter.

“Marshal!” The mandalorian pilot interrupted Strider who was staring out the view port of the transport’s cockpit. “Serenno traffic control has cleared us for landing in Carannia, on landing pad 117”

“Follow their instruction vod” Strider commanded as he turned from the cockpit and headed towards the passenger lounge. This was not a combat mission but in Mando’ade tradition Strider like most if not all the mandalorians were armed and armoured to the hilt as if this was a planetary occupation. The only difference was Strider replaced his Jetpack with a golden cape that signified his rank of Field Marshal and he would leave his EE-3 carbine on the ship. Was as about formal as he was going to get with the aristocratic counts of Serenno.

Strider was a Dog of War, a man that had lived many decades of violence and lustful bloodshed. But the old man knew the importance of diplomacy and negotiation. Such tasks should always be taken before rash full action such as war is instituted. Peace was cheaper and far less taxing on the Mandalorian Empire.

Strider lifted his helmet off the table and looked about his selected team of dignitaries “15 minutes before we touch down in the capital city Carannia. Remember, we are here to reach a peaceful solution. Try and not let Pride get in our way for the People of Serenno have been famously known to resist Authority and they have the bank accounts to back it up”

Though, if Strider failed to bring the Counts to heel and the Planet of Serenno into the Mandalorian fold. He would have no choice but to concede to much older Mando tactic that would bring death and destruction upon such a beautiful place and force them into them into the Mando’ade sphere of influence.

 

[Isabet Denko]

Isabet sat clad in her beskar'gam, resting her body against the wall of the passenger lounge. She had a ragged cloth polishing a blade in slow circles. There was something that didn't settle right with her in diplomatic missions. Perhaps it was because everyone assumed they were ruthless brutes of war. She lifted her head as Strider made his way in, raising a brow gingerly. "What happens if they resist, vod?" She returned her glance to the knife, inspecting it once more before clipping it back to her belt. She was fully armed as only she should be. Isabet couldn't help but feel regret that she couldn't use any of it. Wearing her beskar'gam always put her in the mood for a fight, but then again, she was always wearing it.

@[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Strider glanced over towards the young female mandalorian, similiarly clad in armor and laden with weapons. "If they don't concede to our demands peacefully then we return with our mighty military and subjugate them through force. " Strider hoped for the more amicable solution for it did not cost lives or tax the mandalorians even more for war effort. "Those are the only choices they get, how we get to such is our mission, Is'ika!" He informed @[member="Isabet Kote"], a young beautiful and talented warrior.

 

[Taa Nul]

Suddenly, the Mandalorian ship would be hailed by a passing Nantex-class Starfighter, seeking to make contact with their leader aboard the ship. ''Greetings, Strider Garon. I am Count Veril Morcus.......I am told you seek to convince my people to align themselves with the Mandalorian Empire. A worthy effort, yet you may find it difficult to convince them without the backing of one who has had great influence on this world before. I can provide such backing to you, if perhaps, you would be willing to make an.....arrangement with me.''
@[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Serenno
House of Bathory
Čachtise

The Countess was not happy-- and everyone within the estate was aware of it.

“What do you mean Nox is ill?” Cyrena, Countess of Bathory asked in a cold tone, her eyes flashing dark flames of ire as she stared down at the man in charge of her precious babies; her vornskrs. The man swallowed hard, and took off his cap, holding tightly in his hands as he stumbled through an excuse.

“My lady, I assume it is due to something she ate—“

“Assume?” Her frigid voice cut through the open atrium, silencing the man with that single phrase. She rose from her chair, her black skirts rustling about her legs. She wore a strapless dress made of black vine-silk, the fine silky fabric molding to the curves of her body like a second skin, caressing the swell of her breasts and flat belly before falling in a flowing train at her feet. Her hair was swept back off her face in a tight half up do and pulled atop her head until it seemed to form a black crown, held in place with blood red corseca gemstone hair combs while the rest flowed down her back in lush loose black waves. As usual, her lips were red, her eye makeup dark and perfect, her eyes shining like twin onyx orbs, and set in the dark makeup against her pale alabaster skin, her eyes were extraordinary.

From the top of her head, to the tip of her toes, she was the living embodiment of deadly regal grace. With a slow and steady motion Cyrena raised her hand palm out fingers outstretched to her Vornskr groundskeeper. With a mere thought, she called upon the force to rush the man forward to her. A hand with bright blood tipped fingernails quickly grasped him by the throat, and he whimpered eyes wide as he stood motionless.

She regarded him from beneath lowered lashes. Waited with a predatory sort of indulgence, like a wolf giving a rabbit time to plead for its life before she devoured it. The crimson tips of her fingernails dug into the man’s flesh, piercing the fragile skin until beads of scarlet blood formed at the pressure points.

“Assume.” she whispered, one ebony brow arched as she watched him with cold eyes. “…what a wonderful word. Assume. Let us try it in a new sentence. I assume you want to keep your life.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Mandalorian Delegation

Within a room provided by the Mandalorian's, the Princess of Velmor, Ozmeri Gitana'ti, seemingly sat lounging upon a recliner surrounded by four of her handmaidens. There were politics to be involved in, and finally, she was called to lend a hand to the glorious liberators of Velmor from the Sith.

As such, the young princess came here, to aid in whatever means necessary to ease any tensions with the Serenno nobility. Nobel understood nobel, and as such, proper methods of diplomacy were needed.

Who better than a Princess to aid in such matters?

 

[Kable Detta]

Kable sat in the passenger lounge with @[member="Isabet Kote"]. He said nothing as she conversed with Field Marshall @[member="Strider Garon"]. He didn't really need to. This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission, so Kable volunteered to accompany the Marshall. He wanted to do his part to prove to the galaxy that Mandalorion were capable of more then just warfare.
Kable's father had been a peacekeeper be fore he died, and Kable had been raised with the values of peace. Not just the act of keeping it, but also emulating it. And so here he was, armoured and ready. He had polished his matt black Beskar'gam for the occasion. As for armaments, he only carried his MkII Ripper. Mandalorians were imposing enough in their Armour. Kable didn't want to add his usual armory to the equation and increase the resistance.

 

[Isabet Denko]

"Ori'jate." She stood from her place. Despite the fact it would most probably be a long and boring discussion, Isabet hoped there would be a little fight in them. Other wise she felt the whole affair would be dull, regardless of whether she was learning something or not. For some reason she felt safer in Strider's presence than any Mandalorian she had met so far. He was someone to look up to and respect. Plus, he was very amusing. Isabet gave Kable a gentle pat on the back. She stretched her gloved fingers out a little, grunting as she turned to walk to the cockpit. Serreno was definitely a beauty to behold and they would be arriving soon.

@[member="Kable Detta"] @[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Kable Detta]

Kable smiled. His bucket was off. There's was no need to have it on, he was amongst family.
He double check his sidearm to make sure it was loaded and fully charged. Just because this was a diplomatic mission, didn't mean that he wasn't ready for a fight. He nodded at Strider, then picked up his helmet and put it on. They were arriving soon.

@[member="Isabet Kote"]@[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

The mandalorian pilot would of directed the private hail to Strider Garon directly to his coms. Strider placed his helmet on to converse with this Serennoian privately. Hearing what @[member="Count Morcus"] had to say Strider responded with a short reply "We shall talk face to face once we land, Count Morcus!". The old mandalorian kept it safe, short and simple for one could never know who would be listening. Plus Garon wasn't one to engage in deals without sizing a man up with his own eyes.

Minutes later...............................

The Mandalorian shuttle landed and Strider Garon would lead his company off the loading ramp and onto the landing pad in Carannia Spaceport. Strider was in full beskargam, his golden cape flapping in the warm breeze coming off the Belsallian Sea while he marched forth to meet the welcoming party. He already new @[member="Ozmeri Gitana'ti"] was planet side and was waiting for the mandos to arrive but was going to be interesting to see what first impression these counts will share and vice versa.

@[member="Kable Detta"] @[member="Isabet Kote"] @[member="Countess of Báthory"]

 

[Kable Detta]

Kable followed Strider down the ramp taking position a couple paces behind Strider's left shoulder. He left the right side open for Isabet out of respect, she was the more seasoned warrior.
Strider didn't need the cape to command respect, however, it did add to the man's presence. Kable greatly respected the older Mando, and would follow him anywhere.
@[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="Isabet Kote"]

 

[Taa Nul]

The Count himself would arrive in his fighter, landing beside the Mandalorian Shuttle, a pair of IG-100 magnaguards would be waiting for him as he climbed out of the cockpit, walking over to the Mandalorian duo, his long cape blowing slightly in the wind as he strolled over to meet them, his droid protectors following close behind. He'd peer briefly at the Mandalorians, before smiling warmly. ''Ahh! Greetings to you, Mandalorians.....I would speak with you both before we enter the summit, if you'd be willing, my friends?''
@[member="Strider Garon"]
@[member="Kable Detta"]
@[member="Isabet Kote"]

 

[Isabet Denko]

Isabet dashed out of the ship, pushing her helmet into place as she took Strider's right side. Admittedly she had gotten a little caught up with the pilot, who was explaining the techniques of landing. She straighted up a little, glancing at the man in front of Strider. She could tell with one look that he was powerful, regardless, it didn't effect her in any way. She thought it best to remain silent and allow Strider to do the talking. There was no way Isabet could have negotiated something on this scale. The price of Tihaar in some bars, sure, but not this.

@[member="Count Morcus"] @[member="Kable Detta"] @[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Garrus Garon]

...Garrus didn't know where he was. Awakened on a bunk by a bit of turbulence that ended almost as soon as it began the Warrior would groan, he'd managed to doze off for maybe ten minutes before this interruption, before sitting up on the bunk and staring across at the empty room. He wasn't extremely social with those he didn't know, Strider was his only family, and he liked to wear a perpetually hard expression. Due to habit Garrus even wore that expression when he was alone. As he sat there on the bunk Garrus quickly came to the conclusion he was in a transport, he remembered getting heavy with alcohol and then his vision blurred but the last thing he recalled was Strider's face other than that the last few days were incoherent, and brushing his hands backwards over his face to clear the cobwebs he'd rise from the bunk and collect his gear without a second thought. Everything was still laid out for him in proper order.

Once he'd left his bunk Garrus would have routinely dressed himself in light clothing soon overlapped by his Mandolorian Armor. He found his Beskad, pulled it from its sheath with his right hand, and gave the sword a few rudimentary swings to ensure that it really was his. It was. Garrus had used the same steel for so long that he seemed to have formed a connection with the sword and could tell if it was his by handling it. He weighed it in his grip and replaced it back in the sheath which was hung over the right hip of his armor thereafter. Everything seemed to be in order. Looking around Garrus would find his Blaster Rifle and shoulder it before moving to exit the quarters he's awoken in and head towards the passengers lounge where he was hoping to find Strider...

...when Garrus strode into the passengers lounge, half swagger and half business, he'd have seen Strider and two Manolorians he didn't recognize. One male and the other female. Regarding them briefly he moved towards his Brother. "Don't worry. I wouldn't have missed your debut for the world." ...he wasn't being serious but it was rare to see Strider Garon take the mantle of diplomat which meant that it would likely be quite a show to see. Moving closer to Strider he would have reached out to take hold of the hem of his cloak, gold to signify his rank, before chuckling..." Nice threads." ...he dimly remembered hearing something about fifteen minutes which made his next question all the more urgent... "What do you have to drink on this boat?" ...Garrus didn't like to operate without at least one glass of hard alcohol in his stomach. It made for a bad day. Drawing his hand back from Strider's he'd have poked his thumb towards the other two and ask... "Who're they?" ...notice how he asked Strider instead of actually speaking to either Isabet, who'd turned to walk towards the cockpit, or Kable though he would add... "Nice ass on that one." ...Garrus could recognize a good ass through two inches of inflexible steel; it was like a sixth sense.​

​

And well moments later he'd be down on the ground with the rest of them. Walking beside Strider. Maybe a bit behind but not more than an inch or two...​

 

[Briika Munin]

Briika Tor took up the rear position as they disembarked from the Mandalorian shuttle with the other Mando'ade flanking either side of Strider, who had been mentoring Bree recently, dressed in her full red beskar'gam with a medkit attached to her utility belt. This was supposed to be only a diplomatic mission, but it didn't hurt to have a baar'ur along as part of the team just in case the meeting went south. Plus, the golden haired young woman's warm personally was such that she seemingly had a way to calm situations and people down, which hopefully wouldn't be the case here. But for now, she would remain silent, watch, and learn.

@[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="Kable Detta"] @[member="Isabet Kote"]

 

[Strider Garon]

The first to approach the mandalorian entourage was the pilot that had join them in orbit, @[member="Count Morcus"]. He wore nothing short of stylish garb that befitted the position of a count on Serenno.... or what Strider thought their noblemen would look like. Within the confines of his helmet he would open communications with his fellow Mando'ade "Sur'ulur vode!", to ease them but also to make sure they kept their eyes peeled. As if Strider would need to remind them of their duties.

Strider would step forward, his T Visor matching the old features of the Count. This man was desperate to get the Field Marshal's attention and now he has it. "I am Marshal Strider Garon. How may I be of service, Count Morcus?" The gruff voice of Strider escaped the helmet metalicized. Mandalorians were a breed of their own, all similar carapaced in mando iron and identified by their T shaped visors. Beneath they were all but different, same culture but thousands of personalities and races...... and ambitions. And here today the this talented warriors were engaging politely with a planet run by proper nobility. Thank the manda that they had @[member="Ozmeri Gitana'ti"].

Strider was very impressed with his entourage, even his brother @[member="Garrus Garon"] who found this important enough to hold the booze off for at least fifteen minutes to make a presence. For sure the bastard will snipe out the local juice in no time flat, but at least he was standing straightish. The dala'vode that accompanied him were of high caliber and would be easy on the eyes for these old noble men to oogle at while Strider negotiated their placement in the Empire. As long as oogling was all they did, he would not have to negotiate around bloodshed.

And the young @[member="Kable Detta"] showing that his clan and legacy was still alive by following Strider loyally to a boring mission filled with plenty of talk and hopefully not exchange of blaster bolts.

 

[Taa Nul]

The Count nods his head politely at Strider. ''A pleasure, Marshal. It has come to my attention you seek to claim this world for the Mandalorian Empire, a grand goal indeed. Serenno itself holds a vast amount of beauty. The revenue it's tourism generates alone keeps the planet afloat, not to mention it's trade and natural resources. I seek to pledge my allegiance to the Mandalorian cause, in return for your aid......a few years ago, I was ousted from power by a large faction of noblemen who felt threatened about my influence. Said noblemen rule the planet now........allow me to rule this world in the name of the glorious Mandalorian Empire, and I shall devote it's droid refineries and shipyards to the creation of a mighty Droid Army and Navy to supplement your mighty warriors in your war effort.''
@[member="Strider Garon"]
@Brilka Tor
@[member="Garrus Garon"]
@[member="Isabet Kote"]
@[member="Kable Detta"]

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Serenno
House of Bathory
Čachtise
@[member="Count Morcus"] @[member="Strider Garon"] @[member="Count Aretine"]

Cyrena dug her nails deeper into the man's throat, the blood shimmering in the lights with a jewel quality never seen in blood before. This was the third time her hounds keeper made her regret the choice to hire him. By the Eternal this man was incompetent!

With a snarl she lifted the man up higher, his legs beginning to dangle in the air trying to find purchase. Her fangs flashed a soft pearly white under the light of the main hall. She looked like a vicious living representation of a violent fury, ready to cast judgement on the hounds keeper.

"How I abhor incompetence." She then snapped her gaze at the man and grinned a smile that could only be the precursor of death. With a faint smile, she let go of the man, letting him drop to the floor in a loud thump. He scurried away, eyes wide, fear flowing from him in waves.

"It appears my good hounds-keeper, that your services are no longer needed." The man began to sweat, and then crawled on his hands and knees and begged for mercy. Cyrena could only stare at the horrid sight of lack of decorum. With a mere wave of her hand, she called the crimson robed guards to pick the man up.

"Take him....I do not want his filth in front of my eyes any longer. Feed him to vornskrs....I do believe it is their meal time." Silently, two crimson robed men snapped to attention, force pikes in hand as they made their way to the hounds-keeper. With little effort, they each holding one arm as they began to drag him away.

"No... my lady!... please mercy.. I beg of you! Mercy!" The man cried out, but Cyrena paid him no mind. To her right, one of her attendants bedecked in a crimson cowl came to a halt in front of her, coming to a knee with her head lowered in respect.

"My lady, we have detected ships with transponder codes affiliating them to the Mandalorians." said the attendant with a clear voice. Cyrena's ebon brow rose high.

"As well as heard rumor that the exiled Count Morcus has been noted to have approached their delegation."

It was then that Cyrena's eyes swirled to a dark pitch black. A snarl set her crimson upper lip, revealing sharp teeth in disgust.

"Send an envoy to personally invite them to the estate." said the Countess, knowing full well that the exiled Count was likely trying to gain popularity anew by appealing to the Mandalorians. However, he was an exiled noble. Not true Serenno nobility with any sway with the rest of the Houses. No, that lay in the current Houses of Serenno.

"We will ensure that the sniveling worm that is Count Morcus pay for his audacity at showing his face upon Serenno again."

 

[Strider Garon]

Strider was not a fool, he could see straight through this man. He was a lost soul, a man deprived of his true calling filled with ambition to reclaim what he thought was his. He latched onto the Mandalorians the moment they entered Serenno space, knowing full well that the Mando'ade would entertain the ideas of a mando enthusiast with lust for power.

"I am here to negotiate a peaceful transition, Count Morcus. Your offer reeks of bloodletting. A coupe to place a fallen count into power above the council itself would be counter productive, sir!" Strider replied coldly. But he stepped in closer, invading the man's personal space as his helmet was only inches away from the old man's face "But I appreciate the offer and the risk you have taken to expose yourself. If the deligation fails We would need to fill leadership with mando'ade friendly Counts." The rest was self explanatory. If the delegation failed it would be war as the Mandalorians would return with a force to occupy the planet and beat them into submission. A puppet government would be formed in the likeness of the Council of counts but they all would be pro mando one way or another. "Maybe you shall form into my delegation, as personal aid for me at this point. What do you say Count Morcus?" It was a small offer but held lots of promise. The count would be a fool to deny the Seasoned warrior.

@[member="Count Morcus"]

 

[Taa Nul]

He'd smile lightly. ''I wish no unnecessary bloodshed, just justice for my family......and yes! What a splendid idea. I would gladly accompany your delegation to the summit. I do have quite a few old friends on the current council, so they may look upon my presence with you with favour......come then! Lead the way, my friend, but be cautious, Countess Cyrena is a fearsome one......and stronger in the dark side then I.......she will not give up political power easily.''