Faction [ME/TIC] | Solving the Mandalorian Question

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

MANDALORE - HOLOCALL

The Mand’alor was as silent as the grave as the Dread Queen of Jutrand addressed the Confederation. From behind his helm, a smile wormed its way upon his lips, slow and uninvited, the kind that did not belong to humor so much as recognition. What he had seen, what his comrades had seen, all of it aligned cleanly with the assessment made by his godmother. The so called Mandalorian question had never been a question at all.

It had been an assumption.

Or better yet, a hope.

A hope that Mandalore would fear a two-front war between the Diarchy and the Imperial Confederation. A hope that the Confederation, in any form, presented a source of anxiety to them. A hope that the credits from a joint venture could be mistaken for a shackle, that a little commerce could be dressed up as leverage, that Mandalore might drop to its knees and beg for the Confederation’s regard because a few stations exchanged hands.

Mandalore was not afraid.

And so the hope that had called this summit into being shattered, as thoroughly as the Confederation’s messaging had shattered with every new voice that tried to repair it.

Aether turned then, his gaze falling upon the visage of his godmother for a brief moment. He regarded her with a single nod, slow and certain, before returning his attention to the Confederation.

“My focus remains the Diarchy.” Aether said, his voice resonant as it finally entered the channel, calm enough to be cruel. “On bringing those who would dare threaten trillions of Mandalorian lives to the justice of the cross. These terms I offered were not mercy, and they were not negotiation. They were a stepping stone, given only because the greater offense still stands to the north, and I would rather spend Mandalorian effort where it counts.”

He paused, letting the holonet carry his words beyond the summit, beyond the council, beyond the few who believed their titles were shields, and into the homes and halls where trillions watched Mandalorian will made manifest.

Though his helm did not move, his eyes wandered as the missive from his sibling surfaced, and the shape of the truth sharpened once more. Aselia’s assessment had been precise, the Confederation did not refuse to meet in person out of caution. They refused because they planned to detain Mandalorians all along. A leverage play, dressed up in diplomacy. Give us what we want or we kill your people. Imperial duplicity at its finest.

Then came Adelle’s message, simple in its verdict, and correct in every syllable. The Confederation had said nothing of substance, offered nothing of substance, and Mandalore’s time was better spent preparing the blade meant for its adversary to the north.

Aether parted his lips, intending to make his final will known, but another Imperial voice rose.

Vanessa Vantai.

By speaking, she tested patience that was already thin, and she did so as if Aether had not spoken plainly only moments before. He had stated he would speak alone with their leaders, and yet the Confederation continued to allow peripheral mouths to fill the channel, as if Mandalore existed to be managed rather than addressed. Her words, too, slid against what Sularen and Von Strauss had claimed, another Imperial stepping forward to soften, to reframe, to polish the rot into something the galaxy might swallow.

Aether did not rebuke her.

Aselia did.

Her words cut through the noise, and when she turned her attention to him and urged a single channel and a single counterpart, the Mand’alor answered with a firm nod given to his Warmaster. Wordlessly, he keyed a missive to his Warmaster Aselia, to the Iron Wolf Adelle, and to Warmaster Renn Vizsla.

Protocol DREADLOCK.​

The command moved like steel through a sheath, dismissing his warriors from the summit at once. Let the Imperials see it for what it was, a Mandalorian government of one will, not a disjointed chorus. Let them feel the sudden absence of Mandalorian patience as a thing that could be measured.

Aether returned his attention to the Imperial who had spoken out of turn, to the claim that Mandalore should voyage into Confederation space to clean up Confederation treachery, and to the demand laid atop it, a contract for trade and neutrality, as though the act of speaking it made it deserved.

The gall of it was beyond words.

But before he could respond, the Fleet Admiral chimed in, as if there was still time to steer a ship that had already struck rock.

The Mand’alor had finally had enough.

His hand rose.​

His voice thundered across the galaxy, not through volume alone, but through the certainty that made every listener understand that the moment of indulgence had ended.

“Enough.”

The single word hit like a door slammed shut in a storm.

“Mandalore is not daft.” he continued, the edge in his tone no longer hidden beneath calm. “Nothing material was contributed to that joint venture that we were not prepared to lose. Such is the gamble of collaborating with neighbors whose trust had yet to be tested. The loss of those stations was calculated, and it was accepted the moment the accord was struck. You did not take something from us that we could not live without."

His visor remained fixed on the Imperials, unblinking, unrelenting.

“And I find it laughable that you now appeal for Mandalore to clean up a Confederation mess. Your Warden Primus commits treason and you look to me to solve it, as though Mandalorian blades exist to tidy your house. If she has betrayed your government, then you hang her on a cross. You do not outsource consequence to Mandalore, and you do not ask us to validate your authority by doing your executions for you.”

Aether’s hand lowered slowly, not in surrender, but in finality.

“And let us speak of what you have done here.” he said, his voice tightening, the patience gone and the truth left exposed. “You insulted us to our faces. You made a mockery of the word truth. You dangled beskar like a trinket before a mongrel. You invoked the fucking name of Yasha Cadera, the name of Mandalore's devastation, as if the memory of our suffering was a tool to be used for negotiation. Then, after I stated my intention to speak only with your leaders, your midst continued to speak out of turn.”

The Mand’alor’s gaze sharpened further, each syllable deliberate, each sentence laid like a plank over a chasm.

“Your Confederation claims to be built on order, discipline, and the ideals of the many empires that came before it. Yet you cannot follow a simple chain of command. You cannot speak with one voice. You cannot act with one hand. You call for clarity while authorizing detainments, and you call it diplomacy because you are accustomed to the galaxy accepting your lies.”

He focused then, the full attention of his visor locking onto the councilmen, the true targets of his last words.

“The terms for your survival remain what I uttered before.” Aether said, calm again, because the storm had already passed and left only the ruins to be measured. “If you defend Diarchy soil, you may die there, and Mandalore will not lift a hand to stop it. If you cross into Mandalorian space alongside them, if you impede upon our borders, then you will be destroyed, and the cross will greet you as promised.”

His tone sharpened with a final, quiet cruelty.

“And when the galaxy looks upon the ashes of New Alderaan, it will remember a single sentence with perfect clarity: This is the nation that thought the Mandalorians were afraid of them.”

With that, the Mand’alor’s projection vanished.

The broadcast to the galaxy came to a close.

All would bear witness to the folly of the Imperial Confederation, and the grace of Mandalore.

Spoiler: Tag

Immediate Audience:

Her, Srina Talon , Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory , Ronhar Tane , Onrai , T'zarna Khab , Marlon Sularen , Aselia Verd , Adelle Bastiel , Runi Kuryida , Renn Vizsla , Raum Varad , Amelia von Sorenn , Karl Von Strauss​

Galactic Observers:
Dominique Vexx , Sibylla Abrantes , Velzari Tharn

 

[Marlon Sularen]

S O L V I N G_T H E_M A N D A L O R I A N_Q U E S T I O N

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
CHOLGANNA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

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Sularen rolled his eyes and sighed as Verd made his final statement, broadcasting it to the entire galaxy to humiliate the Confederation. It reeked of arrogance and self-righteousness as they portrayed the Confederation as politically unstable and a diplomatic mess. It didn't help that members of his own delegation such as Warden Primus and Onrai made the situation worse by mudding the message and only confirming the Mandalorians portrayal of the Confederation.

It was infuriating as not only this would undo the brief reparation of the Confederation's image after Atrisia, but it also put more pressure on the upcoming operation against the Sith, which if it failed would only damage the galaxy's perception of the Confederation making the stakes only higher giving the Supreme Commander more problems to deal with on-top of the growing Rebel threat, the distant rivals in the Core Worlds and the rising tensions with the Black Sun.

At the very least, this summit had truly exposed where the Mandalorian Empire stood in the current state of affairs in the galaxy. They were contracted to the Sith Empress, the Sith Empress was related to their Mand'alor, they named a high-ranking Sith as Queen and Warden of a world under their control and they had levied veiled threats to the Confederation. All of this firmly pointed to an alignment with the Sith and an antagonistic attitude towards the Confederation.

Nevertheless, regardless of today's events the Confederation would move forwards and adjust their plans accordingly to accommodate the potential threat the Mandalorians now posed to it. That being said the Supreme Commander's projection would fade as Sularen exited the holographic summit to begin planning his next move.

[THREAD EXIT]​

Tags [TIC] | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Ronhar Tane | Her | Onrai | T'zarna Khab | Karl Von Strauss
Tags [ME] | Aether Verd | Adelle Bastiel | Runi Kuryida | Renn Vizsla | Raum Varad | Amelia von Sorenn | Aselia Verd | Srina Talon ​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Mandalore, Throne Room

A silent alert, an urgent flag by her HUD. Direct from the Mand'alor.

Protocol DREADLOCK.

Adelle acknowledged the alert, even as the Mand'alor laid out, exactly, what the Empire would do and what their relations with the Confederation would be from now on.

Closed doors. A secure wall. Apathetic acceptance if they chose to play defense with the Diarchy. Retribution if they tried to cross the line.

'Good fences make good neighbors' or so the saying went.

The holoprojector in the throne room faded, powering down. Silence breathed in the aftermath of so many words, so many different tales. Adelle breathed it in, feeling relief even with the pressure of the Dark Side pressing down on her. Her helm tilted towards Aether and his family--Whills, his family.

"That was . . ." Adelle wavered, wondering how much protocol would be respected in this moment.

. . . Kriff it.

" . . . a clusterkriff." Her eyes caught sight of a small bag in the Empress's hand, and her HUD helpfully identified its contents. Marshmallows.

Sod it, in for a decicred, in for a whole cred. "Were those for sharing?"



Tags: Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Srina Talon

~exuent, pursued by a bursa~
​

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Mandalore [Somewhere near Aether Verd + Adelle Bastiel ]

____________________________________________________

There was a slight ringing in her ear.

Not loud or sharp, but a faint, stubborn pressure on the edge of her awareness. The pale woman did not immediately recognize it for what it was, a careless, sincere declaration from somewhere she couldn’t see behind the sentries—a Mandalorian voice ( Raum Varad ) remarking that he would “fight a war for her,” presumably that she was the “her” he was speaking of. The galaxy was loud with threats and promises, but this one had slipped through without any threat or thorns.

It lingered in her mind.

Perhaps, because it was a small sign that reflected how far their people had come. The Mandalorian Empire and the Sith Order would never completely forgive one another or trust one another on a one-to-one basis, but it was something when most of the galaxy assumed they would be at each other’s throats. They preyed on their history, turning the past into an easily exploited weakness. No more.

Not while she reigned.

She quietly folded it away for later consideration, and her focus returned to the bleating overtures from the Imperial portion of the delegation. The Mandalorian representatives were clearly, obviously, less than amused as the intentions of the Confederation became both muddled and clear. It was the strangest diplomatic summit she had ever been invited to, and she had barely spoken thus far.

Mostly, it was Imperial voices talking on top of each other.

She did not believe the “moral outrage” expressed about the attempt to detain Mandalorian citizens and the seizure of joint assets, although she did believe that their leadership was fractured. It was a set of circumstances that could have provided political hostages, if and only if, the delinquent element had been successful. The Imperials could claim credit and leverage if things went well. But if it went poorly?

Deny, deny. Better yet…Help us. We are so weak that we need Mandalorian aid to deal with our own traitor. Help us get our house in order so that we can destroy the Sith. Help us achieve our short-sighted goals, that would save the Galactic Empire—Rather than bring it down screaming. We’re not a threat to you, Mister Mand’alor Sir. Honest.

She had read a children’s book, once with that level of mastermind behind the wheel. In truth…The quiet woman would have preferred it. At the very least, there was more authenticity to it than hiding behind pretty words and a half-dozen disjointed personnel.

It was clear that they had not reached out for understanding of any kind. Even if they sent one representative in the future, it couldn’t be trusted, because their own nation was currently undermining their leaders while in the middle of a negotiation. Srina could only surmise, more than anything, that they sought a “soft” containment of Mandalore for future endeavors against her own people.

Increasingly…She was skeptical that, outside of resources and a power play, this meeting had never been about her nephew at all.

Unless the opposite was true…

Unless…The Imperial Confederation really was trying to provoke a war with Mandalore for the sake of public relations. Aether Verd had already given his response to those who harmed his people. It wouldn’t have been that hard, in a galaxy of professional gossip, to paint it as an attack of unwarranted aggression. The poor, poor Imperial Confederation dealing with Mandalorian hostility…Wouldn’t the galaxy come to aid them from the bloodthirsty grip of an Iron Ruler? This would place pressure on the Mandalorian Empire and thus lessen the focus on the Diarchy. It was a risk that didn’t seem to be panning out…But it was conceivable.

She did not leap to conclusions, but rather, considered possibilities with the information that had been presented. Her glacier gaze drifted toward the Mand’alor once more whilst he gave his final verdict and enacted protocol. DREADLOCK. Amusing. He was still being rather kind to a delegation that had done everything in its power to wind up next on the Cross. Far softer than she would have been, certainly, because this only gave them leave to regroup and try again.

The only good enemy was a dead one.​

Still…This was not her Empire. It was his nation and his people to caretake. She would not interrupt his proceedings further unless it was requested.

Then, against all odds, a name was spoken.

Yasha Caldera.​

Had the Imperial Confederation gone insane? Why would they bring up the one individual, in any capacity, that would set off the Sith Order just as much as the Mandalorian Empire? There were very few things they agreed on, generally speaking, but hate for that creature was universal. It was not something to be “overlooked” or an example to be made of. It was not a subject to be touched, not now, or ever.

Aether Verd was too young to have met Mand’alor the Infernal, but Srina had many, many memories of the one who had been partially responsible for destroying the former Mandalorian Empire AND her homeworld. The sound of it did not change her expression or cause her posture to shift. The Empress of the Sith remained composed, metallic eyes steady, and breath even…But those who occupied the throne room with her would feel it all the same. The sudden density in the air, the way the Force tightened, spinning it down to a line so thin that it could have been used for a physical garrote.

For a brief, dangerous span of seconds, she was very still. Her gaze intensified on the Holo-Feed until Aether Verd cut the line and the transmission equipment blinked off. Eyes of corrupted gold began to burn, teeth clenching, while her jaw became sharp. Skeletal…As her fingers gripped the armrest of her chair until the wood began to split. Those closest to her would feel it. The turning of that black hole, the increase in gravity, until—

A voice interrupted, soft, tentative. Human?

"Were those for sharing?"

The question cut through the moment like a cold wind on a blisteringly hot summer day.

Srina looked down.

There had been an assortment of food arranged for her, as one might for a dangerous and unpredictable house guest. The soft bag in her lap held sweetmellows, pale, and unassuming objects that Srina had long ago discovered at an event with her former master. It had been so long ago when @Darth Metus had taught her on Falleen, unknowingly, how to rule a nation. It returned soft memories to her that brushed against the hot, angry edges of her rage, and slowly returned her to equilibrium. The encroaching darkness she exuded calmed…

“Does your visor retract?”

She reached for a wooden skewer and speared one of the sweetmellows cleanly before leaning forward, slightly, to blow gently. From that breath came fire that toasted the object, which browned until it became perfect gold. She did not imagine it as an Imperial corpse…

It was improper to associate them with food.

Srina extended it toward Adelle Bastiel with surprising gentleness, assuming she would find a way to pop her head out of the tin can to enjoy it. “It is hot, child.”, the warning weighed less than sunlight, though her voice was distant, expression, empty of all things. “I expected my nephew would have offered me a little more fire for this event, though perhaps, he ran out setting his last Cross ablaze…”

Golden eyes glanced from Adelle and back to Aether Verd …

A pale, ghostly smile touched the kiss of her mouth. Barely there…Unless you knew where to look.

“Fear not…I will bring my own.”

Her | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Ronhar Tane | Onrai | T'zarna Khab | Marlon Sularen | Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel | Runi Kuryida | Renn Vizsla | Raum Varad | Amelia von Sorenn | Karl Von Strauss​

 

[Raum Varad]

DREAD-LOCKED​

Raum stayed still longer than usual. That alone should have worried someone. His eyes were locked on the Empress, the way she held herself, the way the room seemed to lean toward her without moving. He chewed slow, smoke forgotten. Then she shifted. Just a fraction. Head tilting like she'd heard something she shouldn't have.

His stomach dropped. For half a second, Raum wondered if she could hear him. The thought sent a cold thread up his spine. He snorted quietly and crushed it down. Don't be stupid. Still, he stepped back from the console, suddenly aware of how close he'd been.

The words kept coming. Tempers flared. Imperial voices tripped over themselves. Raum grabbed his mop again, more for something to do with his hands than for work. He leaned on it as the Mand'alor spoke, every word landing clean and heavy. Raum liked that part. He liked leaders who ended things instead of circling them.

Then it came. DREADLOCK.

Raum groaned out loud. "Ah, come on." Both sentries glanced at him. One rubbed his face.

"So that's it?" Raum said, disappointed. "No blood. No charge. Just fences and waiting?"

Inside, he felt it deflate. All that build up. All that heat. And now they stood behind an invisible line, daring the Imperials to be stupid enough to cross it. They probably would. Eventually. That was the problem.

"Well," he said, straightening, shouldering the mop. "It's been real, boys."

One of them muttered, "Get out." Raum grinned, already turning away. "Always a pleasure."

He pushed the mop down the hall, smoke trailing behind him, boots squeaking on clean durasteel. Boredom again. Chores again. He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

Soon enough, he thought. They always crossed the line.

​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Mandalore, Throne Room
Tags: Srina Talon | Aether Verd | Aselia Verd

“Does your visor retract?”

Does her visor . . . It took a moment for Adelle to realize she was talking about the buy'ce. "Oh, apologies."

Adelle pushed a button and the seals hissed as she lifted the helmet off her head. With heterochromatic eyes and scars reaching from her left temple down to her jaw, she knew she'd never be able to hide in a crowd from the Empress after this. But it seemed rude to keep the buy'ce on after her question. And if there was one person she didn't want to seem rude to, it was Srina Talon.

"It was far easier to keep a straight face with it on."

She watched as the Empress lifted a sweetmellow and pierced it with a skewer, leaning forward to breathe fire on it until it had toasted to a perfectly golden color all around. Adelle wasn't sure if she felt impressed or terrified.

Srina extended it toward Adelle Bastiel with surprising gentleness, assuming she would find a way to pop her head out of the tin can to enjoy it. “It is hot, child.”, the warning weighed less than sunlight, though her voice was distant, expression, empty of all things. “I expected my nephew would have offered me a little more fire for this event, though perhaps, he ran out setting his last Cross ablaze…”

Golden eyes glanced from Adelle and back to Aether Verd …

A pale, ghostly smile touched the kiss of her mouth. Barely there…Unless you knew where to look.

“Fear not…I will bring my own.”

​

"Thank you," Adelle said, politely inclining her head, as she took the offered sweetmellow. This was by far the strangest encounter she'd had with the Empress--Aether's godmother. She allowed the sweetmellow to cool, keeping in mind the warning, before she popped it into her mouth. In spite of allowing it some time to cool off, it was still very nearly scalding. But delicious. At her feet, Phantom lifted her head and yawned before settling her head on Adelle's boot, orange high-vis vest stark against her black fur.

This was going to be one hell of a story to tell.

 

[Aselia Verd]

Aselia had been quiet long enough.

The holoprojectors had gone dark. The noise Imperial, political, performative had finally bled out of the room, leaving behind only Mandalore’s stone, the low hum of systems, and the afterweight of what had nearly become war.

She exhaled.

Just a slow release, like setting something heavy down.

Her hand came up to her helm. Seals hissed softly as the buy’ce disengaged, and she lifted it free in one smooth motion. The armor’s systems dimmed with it, the tactical overlays falling away. For the first time since the summit began, Aselia Verd was not a weapon standing at Aether’s side just a woman in beskar, shoulders relaxing as the tension slipped.

She reached back, unpinned her hair, and let it fall loose down her back in a red cascade, fingers briefly combing through it as if grounding herself in the simple, human motion.

Her gaze flicked first to Srina.

Amusement lived there quiet, familiar, edged with affection only family earned. She took in the sweetmellows, the fire, the lingering gravity in the air that still hadn’t quite finished dispersing.

A corner of Aselia’s mouth lifted.

“Bring enough for everyone, Auntie?” she asked lightly.

Then she moved.

Passing Adelle on her way toward Srina, Aselia slowed just long enough to rest a gloved hand on the woman’s shoulder. The touch was brief, grounding, unmistakably deliberate. She didn’t look at her at first didn’t need to.

She could feel it.

The tightness. The awe edged with fear. The way Adelle’s posture hadn’t quite realized yet that the danger had passed.

“You did good” Aselia said quietly, pitched for Adelle alone. No rank. No judgment. Just reassurance, Mandalorian to Mandalorian. The pressure of her hand lingered a heartbeat longer, steady and solid, before she let it go.

Only then step past and set her buy'ce on the table next to Aether.

Her attention drifted back to Srina after that, the faintest shake of her head accompanying a huff of breath that might have been a laugh in another life.

“Aether can be a little forgetful sometimes..”


TAG: Srina Talon Adelle Bastiel Aether Verd

​

 

[Ella Nova]

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Lianna, Lianna City;
The Neyrix, Vūm.
Tags: Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Ze'bast Verd | Renn Vizsla | Vytal Noctura | Adelle Bastiel | Siv Kryze | Itzhal Volkihar | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Karl Von Strauss | Marlon Sularen | Onrai | Ronhar Tane | T'zarna Khab | Srina Talon |

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Imperials crave a few things. These were control, order and discipline. Root and stem. This was what made them who they were and that was what made them malleable to Her powers in the Dark Side of the Force. In truth some had come to this summit with a desire to retain diplomatic relations, alongside the trade agreements coveted by the N&Z Umbrella Corporation, with the Mandalorians. But they were a mixed bag nevertheless for The Imperial Confederation is an amalgamation of different Imperial remnants with each retaining their own motives and desires as evident by what had happened during the conference that had made it easy for Her to do their worst.

As the transmission to Mandalore was severed, and the conference came to an end, Her reclined into their seat while using their feet to turn it around to look through the window ahead onto the sprawling lights of the ecumenopolis below them. Quietly she had always been disgusted by her peers. Unlike the Mandalorians and Empress Srina, Her was all too familiar with their ulterior motives which occasionally overlapped but often divulged and became murky in the proverbial water. These insights, and understanding, was to her advantage. One not shared by the warrior clans of Mandalore and her enemy from Eshan.

Visconti only wanted what was best for her company, and the dark master behind the curtain, for her Lord hungered in those darkest recesses where he hid in the shadows, while his corporation expanded throughout the galaxy to buy him inroads with the galaxies elite. Those roads had led him to Her. Where they would end remained transient and perplexing.

Sularen desired a strong military capable of executing his plans to build an Imperial superpower in his image. One that would eclipse that of the New Imperial Order he had joined in his youth; the Dark Empire which Korvan had convinced him to join; and a mighty Imperial Confederation which will dwarf all of his enemies whom has desecrated and besmirched his accomplishments as the galaxies foremost military mind. Revenge was his verse, Her knew.

Von Strauss only wanted control and discipline. Structure. To retain dominion over lands and territories scarred by the rebellion who had cost him his leg, and the conspiracy that had lost him an entire Empire. From the jaws of defeat, and economic collapse, he had dragged what was leftover from the Sartinaynian Crisis to start again. He endeavoured not to fail this time. Karl could not afford it. Not when he was so late in this game-- the one that he had, perhaps mistakenly, dragged his son into.

Tane cared for his people, and his duties to them. Mahporeem was small, and inconsequential, compared to the might of the galaxies foremost powers and minds. He was a soldier. Nothing less than that. But above himself, perhaps even the Confederation, was his homeland. That scrap heap which had only been brought back into the Imperial fold by sheer circumstance, and chance. Certainly, he did not want what had happened to Tion to happen to his people, he now feared.

Onrai coveted influence. Ascension. To become more than what Savan, or even Savan. Godhood. Immortality. These were the thoughts of Ayra, Her knew.

Khab... She would find it all out. In time.

But the pang of disgust which gripped Her did not stem from the usual dealings that she had with these men and women. Dark corporate interests, expats from bygone eras, or ghosts from the past inspired only fleeting moments that left Her momentarily infuriated, and then quickly forgotten about as she chased the tenants of the Grand Plan. No, today her disgust stemmed from the fact that they really thought they could eat their cake, and not clean the table. She would stew on this debacle for hours.

For as long as Her could remember, stemming back from the days when the Imperial Sector Authority had considered settling on Bastion, they had coveted a relationship with The Diarchy for a long, long time. By design, of course. It was almost laughable, then, that they truly believed trade, commerce and 'good relations' could be maintained with both the Diarchs and Mandalorians as they descended into all out war across the Outer Rim systems. Could they not see that the lines had been drawn well before they had reached out to discuss terms with Mandalore?

No. Her had had to make them see. To push the narrative as she had been doing ever since the beginning of the second occupation. Sabotaging any diplomatic relations, or commercial agreements headed by Umbrella corp and Mahporeem, under the excuse of security concerns and liability. was a stroke of genius. She would lie to them all about it later. It all amounted to a well created design, with a message: that anyone who works for the Sith are your enemy too. Diplomacy can only take you so far. It was ideological. There was to be no room for nuance, or understanding. No neutrality. Not when they called Her their associate, their colleague, their Warden Primus.

The fact that Mand'alor the Iron had exposed his relationship with Empress Srina was a sign that the force was with Her. That it had, truly, surrendered itself and become her property as she maneuverered the likes of von Strauss, Sularen or Visconti into actions designed to eradicate the Sith found in the Stygian Caldera where The Kainite, The King of Korriban, and The Lady of Secrets had built up their powerbases. What better way to paint the narrative of Mandalorian-Sith collusion than to hear from the man himself that their mortal enemy-- the Sith monarch-- was the beloved aunt of their leader?

That the Mandalorians are, as their intelligence suggested, already bought?

Yes, the alliance with The Diarchy will do nicely now.

As the Imperial Corrections Directorate security forces continued to secure the Mahporeem-N&Z-Mandalorian stations (so as to turn them towards contributing towards Project Tion) Her's gaze settled upon a dystopian Lianna City below. There, she saw past Liann despair towards and used her powers to gaze into a future where the likes of Talon, and her subjects, were all dead in the wake of a glorious Imperial march on the Sith, for in the end, there would only be two.

One master, and their apprentice. As Bane had taught them.

Even if it meant inviting catastrophe and ruination to the Imperial Confederation brought to them by the galaxies warriors. Furious, and terrifying, as they turned their religion of war upon the Diarchs, and in time, the Imperials who were backing them.

[ END POST ]
[ I HAVE A QUARREL ]
[ DIRT ]​

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