Faction Nights of Sidonia [ ME ]

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

THULE, MANDALORIAN SPACE

Thule was a world scarred and seasoned by centuries beneath the heel of Sith lords. Darkness ran through its bedrock as naturally as water ran through stone, a legacy so entrenched it had become marrow to the people. To claim such a place for the Empire was no simple feat, yet here it stood, bearing Mandalorian colors. To call it conquest would be a misnomer. Thule had never been conquered - only bargained with, only endured.

Aether knew better than to imagine himself some savior who could purge the rot from the world. The Dark Side would live here so long as one of its natives still drew breath. Just as the underworld could never be wholly cleansed from the galaxy, neither could Thule’s shadows be torn away. Evil was a current that could not be dammed. But currents could be guided. They could be made to serve.

Thule’s people, proud and stubborn, wanted little more than to remain free of meddling hands. It was that hunger for autonomy that gave Mandalore its opening. An accord was struck - one that left their sovereignty intact while binding their loyalty in blood and tribute. The Mand’alor had chosen one of their own, Lady Sidonia, to serve as Warden of the world. She would govern, so long as her world paid its tax and contributed soldiers to his banners. In return, Mandalore’s arm would not smother them, so long as Thule’s sins remained Thule’s alone.

The balance was delicate, but it held. Tonight would prove whether it held still. Aether’s arrival had been announced weeks before, giving the Warden ample time to prepare. She had chosen to welcome him with a banquet - a display of civility, of order, perhaps of strength wrapped in refinement.

By early evening the Mand’alor descended, bringing with him an entourage of his finest. Their vessel was guided swiftly from landing site to palace grounds, and there the monumental seat of Lady Sidonia rose before them. Black stone and firelit grandeur, an echo of a thousand years of Sith dominion, now bearing the mark of Mandalore.

What the night would reveal, none yet knew. But Aether entered certain of one thing: balance was never permanent. It was only ever borrowed.​

Sidonia , Warpriest Prime + Open

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

Blinding Faith, Give Me Sight

Aether Verd | Sidonia | Kurayami Bloodborn​

Dima's five eyes burned like coals beneath her mask as the banners of Mandalore unfurled above Thule's black citadel. The air here was heavy. Perfumed smoke to veil the rot, music and laughter to smother the whispers of fear. To Dima, such finery was a fragile veil stretched over a corpse. Thule reeked of darkness, yes, but of a darkness that had gone stagnant, unused, unworthy.

Without conquest, without blood, what was it but hollow?

She did not despise this banquet despite that; she relished it. Conquest could break a people's body, but feasts like this broke their defenses. In these gilded halls, souls could be harvested more cleanly than flesh. Aspirants molded, faith branded, the masses fed to The Faith of a cause. This was war of a holier kind, and she walked among it like a Warpriest preparing the pyre.

She loomed just behind Aether Verd , her presence deliberate, oppressive, like the shadow of an executioner's blade. In her upper claws she clutched a black book bound in gold, the scripture of her cult, while her lower hands folded neatly behind her back in martial poise. Her cloak of pretorian violet trailed in the torchlight, and her mask, carved in runes of blasphemous starlight, stared unflinchingly at the Sith-born courtiers.

"How righteous of us, brother mine," she intoned, voice resonant, heavy with sacred authority. "You have a divine calling. Doing gods work, to drag their marrow into the light of Ha'rangir. His work is never truly finished, is it?"

Her talons clicked against the spine of the book, sharp and patient, like teeth grinding against bone. She swept her gaze across the assembled Thulian lords as though already reading their epitaphs. "This land stinks of snakes. It has been ruled by fear, yes...but fear of the wrong god. This demands correction~"

She leaned nearer to Aether, her words a hiss of reverence and command in his ear. "Tonight, they dine. Tomorrow, they kneel. And in the end, Mandalore will show them something beautiful~"

 

[Kirae Orade]

Location: Thule
Tags: Open


The Dark Side. It was an interesting concept to Kirae. The concept of Light versus Dark. It seemed nonsensical to her but she didn't speak up on it. People were free to have their own beliefs in her eyes. For now, her focus was on the palace. Far too rich for her blood, a small frown hidden beneath her helm. Whilst Thule may have been in the territory of the Mandalorians, Kirae did not consider it home. She did would not relax, even now holding onto her shield, ready to defend herself against a potential unseen danger.

The air tasted rotten. Kirae knew it was because of the Dark Side, but the...oppressive nature of one of her fellow Mandalorians did not help matters. She did her best to ignore it however. The conversation was hard to ignore. Forcing others to kneel. That was not what Kirae stood for. Conquest. Destruction. Tyranny. No. Kirae valued protection. Honour. A Mandalorian should protect their people, be they Mandalorian or Domarian. It was an opinion that she believed to be unpopular. There those who believed the weak should become strong of their own accords. Whereas Kirae believed the weak could not become strong without the aid of the strong.

For now, she stood silent as always. Perhaps she would enjoy herself at the feast. Perhaps not. None of it mattered. She would return back to Mandalore sooner or later. Today was a new experience for her to try and learn. To venture past what she considered to be her Home and see more of the culture of the Galaxy.​

 

[Sidonia]

​

LOCATION: THULE​

​

Sidonia stood, veiled by equal silk and steel. Midnight robes, their hems stitched with faint silver sigils, fell like liquid shadow around her frame, but across her shoulders and arms the gleam of burnished beskar caught the torchlight. Armor and finery blended seamlessly, a deliberate fusion that made her neither wholly noble nor wholly warrior but something more commanding, something inevitable.​

​

Her face, pale and sharpened by the hall's fireglow, was a study in unyielding beauty: crystalline eyes the color of winter skies, lips curved faintly as if every word already belonged to her. An obsidian circlet crowned her brow, set against the fall of her dark hair, and the mantle of House Veyl — black trimmed in crimson; trailed behind her like the shadow of judgment itself.​

​

When her head inclined toward Aether, it was a gesture of welcome without surrender. But her gaze did not remain fixed on him alone, it swept across the gathered lords of Thule, the Mandalorian officers, and finally lingered with measured pause upon Dima. None in the hall were spared the weight of her regard.​

​

"Lord Aether," she began, her voice low, silken, and edged with cold authority, "you arrive among guests and heirs alike. Let it be understood; tonight is not merely a banquet for pleasantries. It is a test. Every gaze upon you, every word spoken in your presence, is a petition and a trial."​

​

Her hands folded lightly behind her back as she continued.​

​

"Thule is my dominion. Its people have known darkness before your banners ever flew above them. They will kneel not out of fear alone, but of necessity that is my promise and my burden. If they will not bend, they will break. If they will not follow, they will be swept aside."​

​

Her cold smile deepened faintly, and her eyes fell upon Dima, her words turning like a knife honed for a single mark.​

​

"As for you, you stand not in the shadows of this hall, but in its light. The eyes of Thule weigh you as much as they weigh me. Will they see strength enough to respect, or only curiosity dressed in iron?"​

​

Her gaze lingered, sharp and challenging, before she let it drift back to encompass the hall once more.​

​

"Tomorrow, the prayers will be louder than the drums of war. Tonight, they dine and I will dine with them. But make no mistake: Mandalore's shadow may loom over this world, I give only as much respect as I am paid, no more no less..." she spoke to no one in particular, though her eyes never peeled away from Dima.​

​

The hall seemed to draw breath in unison, silks whispering against steel as Sidonia's mantle shifted with the subtle motion of her stance. She had spoken not only to rulers and armies, but to each soul present, leaving them to wrestle with the certainty that she would not be moved, nor matched.​

​

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Location: Thule

Kurayami had come to this world to revisit more shards of his past, try to piece together a bit more of the puzzle that ever ate away at his mind. While he was meditating in his newly finished ship while wearing his XC-86 armor. This peaceful moment was interrupted by a ping, an announcement, Thule was having a banquet. A feast to celebrate the rise of a new ruler, one who would abide the will of Mand'alor the Iron. Most interesting indeed. He could feel presences of old friends and ones that he was unfamiliar with, though he made no attempt to hide his own presence here today. Exiting his ship and bearing his modified SE-44C's in their holsters and lightsaber at his hip, he made his way slowly to where he could feel the others gathering.

As he approached the small group he bowed in deference to the hostess. "Lady Sidonia. Forgive my late arrival, I was in meditation nearby, I am Kurayami Bloodborn. I am here not on behalf of any faction, but out of curiosity." The corellian withdrew his flask from its plce in his utility belt and took a sip through the retractable straw in his helmet. His eyes moves to gauge the others gathered. Aether Verd, son of Isley, to be expected as he was the one who held the mantle of Mand'alor and he was likely here to set terms with the new ruler. Dima was here for...well it was hard to tell if Dima even knew why she was here. The other woman he couldn't place. Be interesting to see what her reasons for being here were. Turning to them he nodded in greeting. "Aether, Dima, ma'am. Nice to see y'all here as well."

Aether Verd | Warpriest Prime | Sidonia | Kirae Orade

 

[Tan'yill Vizsla]

The Thule bred chicken served by lady Sidonia 's staff were simply delicious, juicy and tender, Tan'yill thought as her teeth - four of them fanged - dug into and savoured the taste of one of the banquetes courses. She stood casually in full armor, except for the buy'ce, her helmet, which rested on the table beside her, leaning against one of the tables set for a feast worthy kings.

Reason she was present at this meeting? As Riduur'alor, Tan'yill was simply overlooking the interests mattering to Clan Vizsla, but also because lady Sidonia stroke her as a charismatic leader and person of interest. New contacts were seldomly a bad thing, and business opportunities had to be tended to not to slip through your fingers. What was possibly even more interesting was that the Mand'alor the Iron himself was about to visit Thule and Sidonia's humble castle and keep, from inside which walls order endured. The question was for how long? Their people wasn't exactly known for peaceful negotiations and stable relations. Sometimes though, they shared a warm meal and cold drinks until day became night and night became morning, but chaos were rarely far away. Tan'yill had seen and been thrown through enough of it to pull her into doing spice again, and a good portion of it were probably flowing through her veins right now. Her body had adapted to handle the worst of the side-effects. Most of them, anyway. Some of them she had tamed and used to her advantage, like aggression and pain management. The spice helped to subdue both physical and mental pain, but the latter was always the hardest to control. Few things mattered to her after losing her only daughter and not knowing where her wife were. Anger turned to strenght and fury. If her enemies considered her as cold before, they would turn to ice in the mere presence of her now.

Tan fiddled with a piece of flesh between her teeth before finishing the bone and discarded it into a nearby waste bowl.

Her gaze lingered, sharp and challenging, before she let it drift back to encompass the hall once more."Tomorrow, the prayers will be louder than the drums of war. Tonight, they dine and I will dine with them. But make no mistake: Mandalore's shadow may loom over this world, I give only as much respect as I am paid, no more no less..." she spoke to no one in particular, though her eyes never peeled away from Dima.

She pushed herself from the table and took the helmet with her, tossing and twirling it around casually once as she approached to end up by the side of lady Sidonia, her intense yellow-greenish gaze wandering over their guests. That was a big fething enforcer accompanying Mand'alor the Iron, she thought and spared the lady a heartbeat of a longer glance. She had met some opponents her size in the ring, and even though her teeth and fangs were dripping for some competition, this was a social call and she knew she had to keep things civilized. Only a fool would be the one thrashing a party like this. Tan'yill placed the helmet under her arm, and bow her head towards the honorable guests.

Aether Verd , Warpriest Prime , Kurayami Bloodborn , Kirae Orade​

 

[Sula Skirata]

Sula was here because she had to be. She'd drawn the short straw for who was going to go with Mand'alor to represent the Analysts of the Star Corps. Given the choice, she would have been anywhere else, preferably in a lab where the subjects were more easily understood and the results expected. Hell, even if the results were unexpected, Sula could find a way to explain it, but people?

Sula did not understand people. Take this big multilimbed one that was spouting some drivel about divination and gods. There were no gods. There were only people, and if people were raised to "gods", it was because people put them there. There was nothing divine about it. But Sula had gotten wise enough to know that if she voiced any of that, she was liable to get into a fist fight with something far bigger and with more teeth than she had. She didn't need to be a scientist to know the outcome of that fight.


Her gaze shifted from the chatting monster to their surroundings. To be beneath so many eyes made her uncomfortable, and while the woman in the throne spoke, Sula heard none of it. She was too busy trying to figure out if the people watching them were going to eat them or not. It certainly looked like it. A voice she did recognise spoke up, and her head snapped round to settle on...what was his name? Kursomething...bloodysomething? They had met...once? She recalled him yelling at her for something...and undead. Yes...The ship she'd gotten her samples from. That was it.

She moved to take her helmet off, remembered she was surrounded by predators and changed her mind, folding her arms instead.


Tan'yill Vizsla Kurayami Bloodborn Sidonia Kirae Orade Warpriest Prime Aether Verd

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda's boots made a soft echo against the polished stone floor as he entered the hall, each step measured, deliberate. The torchlight flickered across his armor, highlighting the careful polish that caught faint glimmers even amidst the faint scuffs and streaks of ash from a recent mission. The subtle signs of labor did not diminish the sense of disciplined authority he carried—they spoke instead of someone who maintained order even in the chaos of his work.

"I… overheard mention of this banquet on private comms," he said, his voice calm and precise, reverberating lightly in the vaulted hall. He inclined his head in a respectful bow toward Aether and Lady Sidonia. "It seemed prudent to ensure the safety of your guests and the integrity of the proceedings. I trust my presence is not ill-timed."

His hands rested lightly before him, fingers interlaced, posture straight but relaxed, a careful balance between attentiveness and deference. His eyes swept the room with measured scrutiny, taking in the folds of rich silks, the glint of burnished weapons, the myriad expressions of those assembled—Dima's poised menace, Kirae's silent vigilance, and others moving like shadows across the periphery of his awareness.

"If it is acceptable," he continued, voice threaded with quiet resolve, "I would offer my services in a security capacity. It would be an honor to lend what protection I can during an event of this significance."


Even as he spoke, he remained alert, every subtle motion of the hall noted—shifts in posture, glances exchanged, the faint clatter of utensils over stone. Korda moved not as a guest, but as a sentinel, ready to act when required, attentive to both duty and the intricate ballet of politics unfolding around him.

Tan'yill Vizsla Kurayami Bloodborn Sidonia Kirae Orade Warpriest Prime Aether Verd

 

[weirwooddream]

NIGHTS OF SIDONIA​

Location – Thule
Objectives – To be dated . . .
Tags – Aether Verd Warpriest Prime Kirae Orade Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Tan'yill Vizsla Sula Skirata Korda Veydran
Paraphernalia– Blaster, Beskar'gam

The accursed query of why she was here remained on her mind. For with the endless seas of knowledge on Mandalore, one might assume she'd be nose deep into uncovering its histories and tongue. Yet Thule intrigued her, the Ancient Sith had once leashed this planet, building temples and preserving their knowledge and wealth in countless artefacts. So in spite of her newfound allegiance in the Mandalorian Empire, she could not stray from the hold the discovery of force-imbued relics had over her mind and body.

While many of her 'droten' or people, lingered within these halls, chatting about nothing and everything. Soliane remained by the walls, her buy'ce on, as the multitude of sensors scanned the region, the signatures perking up akin to a million stars at night. Most, however, occurred in the soil below, or in its labyrinth of tombs beneath its civilised surface. Undoubtedly not easily reached by friend or foe, but when has she ever been discouraged by a light challenge? It could not end up worse than the time on Raxus Prime--though her bruises on her back had still not vanished, courtesy of Aether Verd 's penchant for demolition...

Nevertheless, Soliane made no attempt to slip away from the banquet, her arms folded over the iron heart etched into her chestplate. The Chandrilan kept careful watch to not graze the countless buttons on her vambrace, mindful of not pressing them, again. The first time she donned the armor, the lightest of brush against a switch had unleashed a whirlwind of whistling birds that nearly dented her freshly forged beskar'gam. No doubt her brethren had ever laughed that hard, while she had never been so red with embarrassment. Still, it could not possibly be the worst blunder an aruetii had ever committed.

When the talks finally began between the Mand'alor and the shifty Warden of the planet, Soliane held her post at a distance, only for her gaze to drift toward a nearby table laden with numerous delicacies. Temptation proved stronger than discipline, as she left her place by the wall. Amid her walk, she took off her buy'ce and tucked it beneath one arm before she reached the spread and began trying the many varieties of cakes. Some were so foul they nearly forced her to spit them out--though she'd rather not face more laughter--while others burned her tongue with its sharp liquor or spices mixed into the syrup. Coughing softly, she seized the nearest set of drinks to wash away the sting, not caring what it contained so long as it extinguished the fire raging on her lips.

Surely, that would not lead to any problems...

​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda had been standing sentinel near one of the hall's archways, the burnished edges of his armor catching the glow of the firelight. The faint scarring of recent combat was still visible along the plates, but every line of his stance was deliberate, disciplined—eyes moving from guest to guest, measuring distance, exits, intent.

When Soliane peeled away from her post at the wall, her helmet tucked under her arm, he tracked her movement without intruding. It was only when the faint sound of her coughing reached him—choked back quickly as though she hoped no one had noticed—that he crossed the distance with even, quiet steps.

"Careful," he said, his tone low but carrying a note of formality. His gaze flicked briefly toward the table of cakes and drinks. "Some of these dishes are more treacherous than the halls beneath Thule."

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect. "If you'd prefer not to face them alone, I can keep company while I make my rounds. I am here in a security capacity, after all—though keeping a watchful eye on a fellow vod is never a burden."


Korda remained upright beside her, not imposing but clearly present, eyes still sweeping the room even as he offered the faintest curve of dry amusement at the spread before them.

weirwooddream Aether Verd Warpriest Prime Kirae Orade Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Tan'yill Vizsla Sula Skirata

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

I'm Kind of a Misfit, I Don't Hide My Religion
Probably Going To Hell Cause I Told God I'm A Witness

Aether Verd | Sidonia | Tan'yill Vizsla | Kurayami Bloodborn | Aselia Verd
Korda Veydran | weirwooddream | Kirae Orade | Sula Skirata | Siv Kryze​

Dima's many eyes shifted like lanterns in the dark, sweeping the gathered lords and warriors with measured appraisal. Her tail swayed behind her in a slow, deliberate arc, the sound of armored rings brushing against stone echoing faintly with each motion. The heavy cloak draped across her shoulders clung to her frame like a mantle, its folds catching the faint light as though woven from something more than cloth.

When Kurayami Bloodborn approached to stand beside her and Aether, she inclined her head in recognition, her helm dipping with the weight of quiet welcome. "Cousin~"

It was then that Regent Sidonia emerged. The air seemed to stiffen around her presence, her stride cutting the hall as though it belonged to her blood alone. She spoke with a cold certainty that belonged to rulers who had buried too many rivals, her words tumbling like sharpened steel meant to wound as well as bind. Every syllable carried the confidence of dominion, and when her eyes fell upon Dima, it was as though the whole of Thule itself judged her.

Dima's claws flexed against the cover of her beloved book, the leather creaking under the pressure. The old, untamed beast in her growled to be unchained, to answer insult with fury, but the Warpriest Prime no longer fought only for herself.

She breathed slow, chittering faintly through her helm, and reminded herself that she was the vessel of Ha'rangir's will.

And besides, was she not always surrounded by the faithless? Even among her kith and kin, too many Mandalorians had grown soft, invoking the Destroyer's name only when convenient, as if war itself had become a tool instead of a god.

It sickened her.

But those unbelievers beyond the clans? Those who could not believe in anything at all, who drifted without gods or faith like hollow husks? They were of even less consequence. Their voices were smoke. Their judgments dust. They did not weigh upon her, for they did not weigh upon HIM.

When she moved, she moved suddenly, closing the distance with the Regent in long, predatory strides. A clawed hand, warm despite its steel, landed upon Sidonia's shoulder. Dima leaned in, her helm tilting close, the edges of her mask catching the light like the maw of a predator half-smiling.

"Prime cares little for the opinions of nonbelievers, little one," she purred, her voice silk cut with iron. "It is your right, of course, but the only eyes that judge me are the eyes of the gods. All others?" She tilted her head from side to side, a theatrical weighing of invisible scales, the chitter of her fangs breaking into something between laughter and prayer. Finally, she patted Sidonia's back as though the matter was already settled. "Well, they can either get down with The Cause...or lay down in the dirt."

Her tone was light, almost playful, but the edge beneath it was undeniable.

She withdrew her claws and, with unexpected flourish, extended her sacred book forward in her lower hands. An offering as unthinkable as it was disarming. "How about you hang on to this? A gift. From Warpriest Prime to you~" she cooed, her voice suddenly girlish, a whip-crack turn from the menace she had worn moments before. Then, with a giddy giggle that filled the chamber, she turned on her heel and let her cloak swirl like stormclouds at her back.

The Twi'lek Tan'yill Vizsla nearby was caught staring too long at her, and Dima's eyes met hers with mischievous delight. She lifted her claws and wiggled them daintily in a girlish little wave, only to sweep all four arms outward and snatch a passing server's tray with gleeful precision. Four glasses were plucked free in one fluid motion, and she swept back to her companions as though nothing had disturbed her stride.

One glass she pressed into Kurayami Bloodborn 's hand, another into the reluctant Twi'lek's, the third to Sidonia herself, and the last to Aether Verd .

"But enough politics and scripture, yes? How about a drink instead?" she said, chittering behind her mask. Her tail rattled with amusement, cutting through the tension like thunder made playful. "Power...plunder...pleasure, and tonight, We should try to enjoy the latter~"

Then, deliberately, she reached up with one slow hand and peeled the mask away. Azure light flared from her many eyes, luminous and terrible, each one like a shard of a dying star. Rows of crystalline teeth glinted beneath her grin, wicked and reverent all at once. She lifted her glass high, voice ringing with mirth and menace alike.

"A Toast! To The Cause~"

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

THULE​

The modulated timbre of Siv's voice carried through the hall as he lifted his glass, the visor of his helm tilting in acknowledgment.

"Clan Kryze honors the toast. Strength wears many faces—faith, blood, or law. Mandalorians value less the shape it takes than the fact that it endures. On Thule, Lady Sidonia has shown a steady hand where others might have faltered, and that speaks louder than sermons or swords."

His helm turned slightly toward Domina.

"Faith may guide some, Warpriest Prime , and no doubt it has its place. But to rule a world—scarred and stubborn as this—requires more than prayers. It requires discipline, and Thule has it."

He let the weight of that sit before the vocoder carried a touch of dry humor.

"And as Mand'alor often reminds us—discipline also keeps his councils from turning into brawls. At least, most of the time."

The faintest turn of his visor toward Aether Verd made the jest clear before Siv settled back, the glass set down, his tone steady once more.

"May that balance endure, for it serves both Thule and Mandalore well."

Tag: Aether Verd Sidonia Tan'yill Vizsla Kurayami Bloodborn Aselia Verd Korda Veydran weirwooddream Kirae Orade Sula Skirata​

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda's laughter rolled across the chamber like a detonation, rough and unrestrained. With a hiss of seals, he unlatched his helmet and pulled it free, tucking the scarred helm beneath one arm. His face was as hard as the beskar he wore, sun-dark skin crosshatched with old wounds, his jaw square and unflinching. Eyes like molten iron swept the hall before settling on Domina.

"Long live the Mandalorian Empire!" he thundered, raising his battered flask high. The words struck the air with the force of a hammer, echoing Domina's toast without hesitation.

Only then did he spare Siv a look, a curt nod given—enough for warriors to mark respect, though the faint curl of his mouth made plain his disdain.

"Balance has its place, Kryze," Korda said, voice gravel edged with steel. He took a heavy pull from the flask, wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, then leaned forward just enough for the words to bite. "But peace without the Destroyer's fire is weakness dressed in ceremony. Discipline, law—call it what you want. If it cannot bleed, if it does not burn, then it rots. The weak cling to peace as though it will save them. It never does."


Turning his gaze back to Domina, he thumped a gauntleted fist against the iron heart on his chestplate.


"Faith in Ha'rangir. Fire in our blood. That is what keeps the Empire unbreakable, not dismissing others jobs. Not soft words. Not quiet balance. Only the will to crush—and endure."


With that, he lifted the flask again toward Domina, scarred lips pulling into the faintest of grim smiles, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder.

Warpriest Prime Siv Kryze Sidonia Kirae Orade Aether Verd weirwooddream Sula Skirata Aselia Verd Kurayami Bloodborn

 

[Tan'yill Vizsla]

The Twi'lek @Tan'yill Vizsla nearby was caught staring too long at her, and Dima's eyes met hers with mischievous delight. She lifted her claws and wiggled them daintily in a girlish little wave, only to sweep all four arms outward and snatch a passing server's tray with gleeful precision. Four glasses were plucked free in one fluid motion, and she swept back to her companions as though nothing had disturbed her stride.

One glass she pressed into @Kurayami Bloodborn 's hand, another into the reluctant Twi'lek's, the third to @Sidonia herself, and the last to @Aether Verd.

Green-yellowish eyes narrowed at the woman, or being, accompanying Aether Verd . They tended to turn more into a cold and callous yellow color when threatened, when angered or when reserved to just name a few states om mind that could trigger the rather rare attribute. If not in Mandalorian armor, one could almost think that she was a Sith when those eyes pierced into your soul. Fully that bad wasn't the case now, though. The woman made clear that she had noted her observaton of her, with an almost childish little wave. Cute. Close to likeable. The question was if she revealed her true self, and her intentions tonight. Many could be asked the same, including herself. So, who was she to blame her? Four arms? Just like a besalisk, only that a besalisk wouldn't pass any beauty contests, this woman might as well actually do.

"But enough politics and scripture, yes? How about a drink instead?" she said, chittering behind her mask. Her tail rattled with amusement, cutting through the tension like thunder made playful. "Power...plunder...pleasure, and tonight, We should try to enjoy the latter~"

Four arms that offered them... drinks! My my, the woman spoke her language. Interesting! It wasn't a moment too soon, too! The spice made you thirsty, not to mention hungry, and lady Sidonia seemed to have employed the best of bartenders on the planet. Tan'yill accepted the glass out of the womans hand, and spared her another glance and a nod of gratitude. She could still be nice, despite having her reservations, right?

"Long live the Mandalorian Empire!" he thundered, raising his battered flask high. The words struck the air with the force of a hammer, echoing Domina's toast without hesitation.

''Long live The Way!'' she followed onto the toast proposed by Warpriest Prime and multiplied by Korda Veydran , and raised the glass along with the others before taking a good sip of the drink. The Way. Thanks to Aloy Vizsla , she knew the path and how to walk it. Sure, she had wandered off once or twice, but always managed to find it again. Damn woman. Where and when was the whiskey being poured?

Siv Kryze , Kirae Orade , Aselia Verd , Sula Skirata , weirwooddream , Kurayami Bloodborn​

 

[Sidonia]

​

LOCATION: THULE

A man with brown eyes and brown hair happened upon the area then, joining them in the middle of nowhere it seemed. Sidonia didn't mind, her pale blue eyes hovered a minute longer to the man who had then introduced himself as Kurayami. It was an odd name, not one of which she herself had heard of before. Perhaps she had been out of touch with reality for too long, or the idea of being a Warden had somehow gotten too into her headspace that she had forgotten how to 'socialize". Sidonia raised her hand, palm facing the skies as she quickly dismissed the bow the stranger gave towards her. Formalities were absolute for those who entered Thule on a normal day, but seeing as today was not turning out to be normal, she allowed for the rules to bend, if not just this once. She stole a glance at Verd, her lips pursed so tight that it looked like she couldn't breathe. The odea of having a person of higher rank than her in her own land didn't sit well with her, even for festivities sake.

She would lead the newcomer and the rest of the party towards her 'castle', a place that resembled that a beautiful ice sculpture, in every sense of that word. Sidonia loved ice as an element, relished in cold harsh temperatures. Her guests should note that those who were not accustomed to extreme chills would be offered some protection in the form of heavy feathered coats, which would prove to be more like bricks against the smaller frames of those who joined them. The woman didn't feel bad that she hadn't warned her guests of the harshness of the environment of Thule, or rather her own lodgings specifically. It was one of the many ways she had chosen to protect herself, for those without ample clothing or heat within their bodies would not be able to withstand. She allowed some of her assistants to hand her guests the coats should they need and led them inside the mult-storey castle grounds.

The first floor was bare and simple, with an icy staircase on either side leading towards the second floor. Guards stood outside the castle doors and at the entrances of every point within. She waved at them as they passed, those who recognized the Mandalorian lord would bow their respects while paying respects to Sidonia herself. There were some people hidden in the shadows, poised with weapons ready from all corners of the castle grounds. It was her second form of protection, although she was sure that she herself could take anyone who dared to step inside and want a chance at her life. The woman led them towards the staircase to the left, a long winding thing that swiveled and turned rather pointlessly. It was all about how the castle was to be presented, after all. Ever since Sidonia became the Warden, she had ordered the tear and rebuild of the interior of the castle, one that was fitting for the Goddess of Ice and Snow herself.

There were very little decorations on the walls, only torches that held consistent flames to illuminate the grounds. This was not a place for the weak and to have friendly chatter, that much was established. But for today, she had made the exception to open it to these people who were attending the festivities...just this once. She whispered into the ear of some of her attendants which greeted them on the second floor landing, commanding that they bring out the dinner consisting of only the most delicate of meats, vegetables and bread. Although Sidonia was not one to eat much she gathered her guests would be hungry, having traveled from various places to Thule. "Please take a seat", she whispered to her company, waving her hand at the long oak table which was the only piece of notable furniture in the room. Candles lit most of the table, and as the attendants brought out various platters of food, she motioned for them all to take a seat.

"Of course Lord Verd should sit at the head of the table..." she whispered again, gesturing to the cushioned chair while she took a seat to the right of him, not waiting for a reply.

"Please enjoy the food and drink, there is much to pass around..." As Sidonia made herself comfortable in her chair, she began to analyze the others whom had joined them at the table. Though she was not one for lateness, she again made an exception tonight, having not really set a time for the feast to begin. Her icy-blue eyes rested on a woman. with fangs it seemed, who was now indulging in some meat. Although only the most attentive would be able to catch, there was a flicker of somewhat distaste towards this woman, as Sidonia believed women should eat, sleep and carry herself proper and lady-like. She quickly dismissed the idea though, giving small smiles here and there across the table to keep formality and pleasantry. Being a warden was a tough job, she mused. She craved power and authority, which came from the position, but despised the formalities that came with it. Tonight was a test for herself, for how long she would be able to endure these people from all different walks of life and place.

She just needed to breathe.

"Please don't hesitate to ask our chefs and bartenders for anything you'd like," she called to her guests, reminding them that they were allowed to truly indulge. There was nothing that her attendings wouldn't be able to cook or create, that much she was more than certain of. The woman whispered to one of the attendings herself, asking for a bottle of hot sake. She found solace in the hot drink, the burning sensation that filled one's throat enough to soothe even the toughest of issues and stress away. When glasses were raise to toast the longevity of the Mandalorian Empire, she raised her glass, though hesitant for only a second. The toast had been called by yet another stranger to Sidonia, though guessing from how the echoes came following it, she was perhaps the only stranger here in this room.

Ironic for being in such a familiar place.

Sidonia simply kept quiet, her eyes lingering on no one person in particular, quietly observing and listening to the chatter around her.

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda settled into the bench with a quiet gravity that made the long table feel smaller by contrast. He set his helmet deliberately beside his plate — not slung, not careless, but placed like an oath given and remembered. The candlelight dug into the scars across his cheek; his jaw was a line of old battles and harder vows.


He lifted his cup once, a brief, formal salute to Sidonia, then let the tasting of the drink anchor him as he spoke. His tone was polite, measured — a soldier speaking to a ruler — but every word carried weight, like iron on a scale.


"Warden," he began, voice low enough that only the nearest heard the nuance, "this hall is sharper than the ice that makes it. You've made cold into armor — clever. That earns respect from a man who knows what it is to keep a line."


He nodded toward Siv with a single, almost filial motion — acknowledgment of balance as a tool — then returned his gaze to Sidonia, the look in it narrowing to something like appraisal. "Balance steadies a council. Discipline keeps laws from fraying. I do not dismiss those things. But there is a difference between order that holds and order that suffocates."


His fingers brushed the iron-heart on his chestplate. For a heartbeat his voice took on the cadence of a litany. "Thule was chained by an older darkness and yet you stand. I ask plainly: what binds them to you now? Fear? Respect? Or something the scholars call superstition — something older, something that makes a man pray before he draws breath?"


The question hung, courteous but pointed. He took a quiet swallow, then leaned forward just enough for the words to be private and inevitable. "If it is only fear you command, know this: fear can hollow a body—and rot can grow in hollows. If Thule is to endure under Mandalore, let it be kept by will that can burn away rot, not by comforts that let it fester."


He tapped the table once with the rim of his cup — not a threat shouted, but a promise felt. "Ha'rangir favors those who forge through heat. Keep your ice useful, Warden. Let it cut. Let it hold. And should something try to take root that would undo us, you will find my blade where it belongs."


Korda's expression softened almost imperceptibly, the courtesy of a man who has seen too much to flirt with lies. Then he set his cup down and folded his hands, the posture of a sentinel waiting for the next move.

Warpriest Prime Aether Verd Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Kirae Orade Aselia Verd weirwooddream Siv Kryze Sula Skirata

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

THULE, MANDALORIAN SPACE

Aether did not rise when they seated him at the head of the table. He sat as still as stone, eyes following the slow drift of flame across the room. The hall was alive with voices and pride, each note echoing against the black stone walls. Yet beneath the music, there was something older, an understanding between conqueror and keeper, a rhythm both he and Sidonia already knew.

When she spoke, her words carried the poise of one who had fought for every inch of her dominion. He waited until silence returned before answering, his voice low, deliberate, each syllable measured to reach only those who needed to hear it.

“Lady Sidonia,” he began, inclining his head in respect, “your hall and your rule speak for themselves. You have shaped this place into strength, and it endures beneath your hand. That is all Mandalore asks of its Wardens. The accord between us stands as it was sworn: Thule’s sovereignty for Thule’s tribute. You hold your lands; we hold the line. So long as this world’s loyalty remains true, no Mandalorian blade will cross your borders unbidden.”

He paused, studying her through the candlelight. “You know your people better than any outsider. Rule them as you must. If your word keeps them steady, that is enough. I came to honor what we built here, not to bind it tighter.”

His gaze drifted briefly to the Warpriest whose presence burned like a forge at his flank. “Domina,” he said evenly, “the gods are served best when we listen as sharply as we strike. Keep your fire close. The night is for peace, not for proof.”

When the toasts began to rise around the table, Aether did not speak. He lifted his own glass instead, a small motion that seemed to still the air, a nod that carried the gravity of sanction. The amber light caught in his eyes as he drank, wordless but resolute.

Setting the cup down, he turned his helm slightly toward the two women nearby. “Kirae,” he said, the faintest warmth in his tone, “it has been too long. Sit nearer, let me see what the road has made of you.” His attention shifted to the Twi’lek at her side. “And you, warrior of Vizsla, come share the fire. A stranger at the table need not stay one for long.”

When his gaze found Kurayami, the edge of command softened into something rare. “Uncle,” he greeted, the word carried by an easy smile. “It’s been some time since I last saw your shadow among mine. I’m glad Thule brought you to my side again.”

He settled back, the flicker of the candles reflecting in his armor like muted gold. “Tonight,” he said quietly, more to the hall than to any one soul, “we honor what stands. Thule and Mandalore, both tempered by the same forge, both unbroken. Let the night belong to fellowship. The work will wait until morning.”​

Warpriest Prime Korda Veydran Sidonia Kurayami Bloodborn Kirae Orade Aselia Verd weirwooddream Siv Kryze Sula Skirata + Open

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Kurayami's gaze swept over those gathered, taking note of the entrance of Tan'yil, Korda Veydran, and finally another face he recognized, Sula Skirata. Upon recognizing Sula's face he flashed back to fighting through the hordes of the undead and the rush that had been. Even if it had been an unwilling one at them time. Siv Kryze and Solinae Verd, he couldn't say he knew for sure, but it was possible. Lady Sidonia merely dismissed his bow, perhaps it was similar to Srina, wehre she didn't care for such displays of obeisance. Something that he would file away for the future.

It seemed that everything evened out for a few minutes at ther hostess joined them and the introductions began in earnest as Sidonia lead them to her 'castle.' Keeping an admiring gaze of the details as they proceeded they soon reached the table where the meeting was to take place. When asked to he took a seat with no further prompting.The decoration of the oaken table and the manner of its consturction were reminiscent of ancient times. Fascinating. Most times at galas or other gatherings of similar ilk this was where all the posturing and politicking came into play, yet here, it seemed to be quite the opposite, being quite calm. Perhaps it is because all gathered knew that is what was demanded of them. And then came Dima. Beneath the helmet, Kurayami smirked as she approached with a proffered drink. "Thank you, Cousin." He removed his helmet, setting it on the table and raised the glass in a toast reflecting her wide grin. "Indeed we should try to enjoy the fruits that power and plunder allot us. To the cause!"

Soon after, while others were eating and partaking of various drinks, Korda spoke up after nodding to Siv. He directly addressed Sidonia about balance and asked her rather bluntly what kept the locals in line. Kurayami shook his head at the directness of the questioning. When Korda leaned in closer and addressed her privately, Kurayami made no attempt to discern the words. However, when everything played out it would be interesting to see how it did so.

His head turned to follow the sound of his nephew's voice, a gentler smirk gracing his features as he nodded at his estranged family. "I realize that I have been absent more than intended. It is good to be by your side once again as well, nephew."

Warpriest Prime | Aether Verd | Sidonia | Kirae Orade | Aselia Verd | weirwooddream | Siv Kryze | Sula Skirata

 

[Tan'yill Vizsla]

"Please enjoy the food and drink, there is much to pass around..."

''There was, indeed.'' Tan'yill thought silently for herself as her green-yellowish eyes, slowly shifting color towards her more soft hazel tone, again rested upon the feast that the woman had set for them all. A feast that she had been slightly ahead on when trying that chicken, but who could blame a high, hungry girl craving munchies when some of lady Sidonia's staff just happened to walk past with a plate oozing of the stuff? Tan felt their hostess distasteful gaze, alright. She was far from a slob, and even though she was a little rough around the edges from her mechanic, smuggler and now warrior days, she still had that Twi'lek heritage and genes in her. Was it so wrong enjoying a piece of meat with your bare hands? If it wasn't for the prominent company and rather formal setting, and maybe also much thanks to the effects of the spice starting to fade, she would have asked the woman what the hell she looked at. Yeah, not the best of starts. Well, the evening was far from over and many persons of interests had gathered around the table.

Upon their hostess encouragement to treat themselves to drinks whenever they liked, Tan'yill wasn't late to order a clear and strong apertif to replenish her body with something strong helping balancing the spice leaving her. Looking at the high-footed cocktail glass and the clear liquid inside, she couldn't help to think about all the parties they had attended to, especially in the beginning of their relationship, her and Aloy Vizsla . They pulled about even in those kind of games.

His attention shifted to the Twi’lek at her side. “And you, warrior of Vizsla, come share the fire. A stranger at the table need not stay one for long.”

The Riduur'alor of House Vizsla was about half way into a sip when Aether Verd adressed her and made her pause momentarily as she locked eyes with him. She finished the sip and slowly let the glass part from her lavender lips and sat it down gently. She cleared her throat and straightened somewhat in her chair.

''I've been... a part of your brother- and sisterhood for such a long time now. Seen this and that, and done one good thing to balance up one shortage after the other... One of my most obvious ones being my manners with a leg of bird between my teeth...'' Tan said and glanced over to lady Sidonia with a mischievous smirk and a raise of her glass, a nod to the earlier look that she had received, before directing her attention back towards Verd. ''It's been too long until I had the honor of being seated around the same table as the Alor of House Verd.'' she said and bowed her head somewhat before also offering him a toast of friendship.

Warpriest Prime , Kurayami Bloodborn , Kirae Orade , Siv Kryze , Sula Skirata , Aselia Verd , weirwooddream​