Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Junction Old Scars, New Steel — GA and ME Junction of Petrusia and Felucia

yOBUJrI.png




Shyran Dol: Chantin Heirloom Armor

⚔️ Melee Weapons
MagnaGuard Electrostaff – Charged melee weapon effective against Force-users
ZX Wrist Flamethrower – Cone of high-heat fire for crowd control
Double-Bladed Vibrosword – Heavy melee weapon for cleaving and sweeping

Ranged Weapons
DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle – Suppressive long-range firepower
A280 Blaster Rifle – Armor-piercing rifle for general infantry use
Ion Rifle – Disables electronics, droids, and shields

Heavy Weapons
E-Web Heavy Repeating Blaster – Tripod-mounted anti-infantry cannon
RPS-6 Rocket Launcher – Homing, high-yield warheads
Personal Energy Shield – Wearable generator for temporary defense

Gadgets & Tools
Life-Form Scanner – Detects biological entities through walls
Scomp Link – Terminal hacking tool
Jetpack – Short-range vertical mobility
Stealth Field Generator – Temporary active camouflage
Electro-Grappling Line – Tether that stuns and restrains

️ Deployables
Probe Droid – Recon and support drone
“Gonk Bomb” (Modified GNK Droid) – Walking explosive payload
Portable Energy Shield Projector – Ground-deployed stationary defense field

Consumables
Stimpack – Emergency healing injection
Power Cells – Refuels weapons and gadgets
Smoke Grenade – Obscures line of sight
Ion Grenade – Disables droids and shields
Thermal Detonator – Devastating high-yield explosive
Fragmentation Grenade – Anti-personnel shrapnel blast

The ramp groaned.

A seismic shudder rolled up through the floor of the freighter as something vast ascended the gangway — not Cassvar’s stony form, but something heavier, older, forged of flesh and layered phrik.

The Shyran Dol bore no insignia of the Enclave, no warrior's stripes or clan glyphs... only the unyielding glare of an engraved sun across its scorched chestplate, half-obscured by soot and fused rivets. Each slithering advance caused the floor panels to bend with strain.

Whottoomuzz Chantin filled the loading corridor like a Phrik and avalanche.

"Chess ko, peedunkee staga."

The voice was deep and resonant, yet deadened by a mask-filter — its natural gravitas drowned in low mechanical grit. His helmet bore no T-shaped visor, no clear eye-line — only a series of narrow, slitted ports that glowed faint orange with HUD runes. Heat steamed from the Hutt’s armor joints.

"Da pankpa no bata copa che miki yuna ateema."

He was blocking the exit. Deliberately.

Behind Cassvar, the humanitarian workers had scattered — too shocked to scream, too slow to flee. The Jedi, distantly visible outside, were engaged in negotiations, de-escalating confusion, ensuring transfer of aid supplies. They perhaps saw the commotion but could not move. Not without breaking the fragile terms of peace. The Mandalorians were equally tied, which left only the Hutt — a creature neither warrior nor peacemaker, who had no title… and no leash.

"I know what you're doing," he said, in basic now, dragging his armored mass forward, each movement slow and heavy as tectonic drift. "I've done it too. Chain a few bystanders. Stage a spectacle. Hope someone noble takes the bait."

He stopped.

"But the noble ones are busy today. So you get me."

Whottoomuzz leaned in. His visor glinted with dull reflection from Cassvar’s rocky form.

"I don't think you'll find this a fortuitous surprise."

The ramp let out another scream of metal as he leaned harder, one massive gauntlet bracing against the corridor wall. The shuttle itself tilted. He wasn't that fat, was he? Every angle of his armor whispered death-by-overengineering: ventilation slats scarred by fire, tribal etchings layered over old Kajidic burn marks, and chain-link pauldrons once used for restraining slaves — now turned into makeshift anchoring points.

"So I’ll make it simple."

He pointed one massive finger at the hostages.

"Let them go. Or find out what happens when something like me falls on you"

A long, silent beat.

Then: "Whether you like it or not, you're pulling this stunt on Taris. This is Mandalorian business, but it wouldn't be the first time I've meddled in other's affairs."

Cassvar Cassvar

 
aJh4iUG.png

Damian du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective One: Intent and Iron
Outfit

JiGZUcY.png

Damian for a moment believed a positive change was going to occur, it was quite the change of diplomatic tactics that the Mandalorians before them proposed. It was a quaint suggestion to better overcome the stark difference between the Alliance and the Mandalorians. In his mind the offer of simply enjoying a transactional relationship with the Mandalorians was quite the benefit.

How much of a benefit? Well time would have told us that.

Chancellor Organa though dashed the easy diplomatic victory and wished to forge a pact much in a way that allowed for more possibility. If Damian had a moment to speak without the others from hearing he would have pushed his Chancellor for the more pragmatic path with the Mandalorians and their transactional nature as mercenaries and soldiers of fortune. But as it stood this was the path his Chancellor wished to pursue so Damian stopped working on his current calculations.

Transports and logistics along with Naval escorts and proper administration for long term rebuilding on Taris.

The only past that Damian would consider were the debt owed, contracts signed and proper recompense for alleged harmed parties. The great shift had caused a litany of issues, no less the many broken contracts and obligations of cargo deliveries and the eventual micro recessions so many planets had to endure for a time.

Now imagine if we can hire potential Mandalorian Allies to help guard formal Alliance Member Worlds for us?

The future was bright with possibilities.

Vy2NTqS.png
|| Valery Noble Valery Noble | Lucas Gracin Lucas Gracin | Lander Stalwart Lander Stalwart | Nos Voros Nos Voros | Thexann Pehnataur Thexann Pehnataur | Runi Kuryida Runi Kuryida | Wedge Draav Wedge Draav | Aether Verd Aether Verd | Aselia Verd Aselia Verd | Conrad Conrad | Siv Kryze Siv Kryze | Alicio Organa Alicio Organa | Zark San Tekka ||
 

wjujCZT.png
Jaikell's view of war and the role it played in his culture was not a surprising one. To many, Mandalorians were synonymous with war. They lived for battle. It was their way, which made diplomacy between their empire and galactic powers that sought peace difficult.

"She is wise," Cora agreed. "But she leads the Jedi Order, which is within the Alliance. The Alliance itself is led by our Chancellor – Alicio Organa. He's a good man. Compassionate and humble. Not only skilled in the art of diplomacy, but someone who can wield a blade if needed."

Tyron's voice crackled in her ear. Cora pressed two finger to the commlink, signaling a pause in their conversation.

"We're about to head into the city, Padawan. You may stay with the transports organizing supplies if you wish, but we could use an extra pair of arms or two once we arrive. I'm told that there are still survivors needing to be pulled from the rubble."

Survivors was a loaded term. There would be plenty of bodies, too. There always were.

With the speeder loaded, Cora lifted herself onto the back of the truck, foot on the edge of the bed and hand around one of the supports. She tilted her head to Jaikell, then posed another question. He seemed open enough to conversation.

"How do you choose where and whom to war with?"


Jaikell Wyrvhor Jaikell Wyrvhor Tyron Khan Tyron Khan
Dc6pDtW.png
 




YAGA MINOR

p-F7-E9-Nk-1.png






CJRPweW.png
Jaikell watched her closely as she spoke of the Chancellor—of compassion, of humility, and of blades held in reserve. He didn't mock it. He didn't scoff.


When the commlink crackled and she lifted her fingers to pause, Jaikell stepped back instinctively—not out of fear or discomfort, but to give her space. He understood hierarchy. Orders given. Orders followed.

"How do you choose where and whom to war with?"
He waited until she was done, then responded to her question without immediately climbing onto the speeder. His voice came quieter now—not guarded, but considered.

"We don't choose who. Not in the way most people think."
"It's rarely about Conquest, Or territory anymore,"
He glanced toward the skyline, where the ruins of Taris reached for a sky that had stopped noticing them. His jaw flexed once.
"War finds us. Sometimes its dressed as Aid, Other times its an insult that cuts to deep to ignore, Sometimes its dressed as politics"
Then he looked at her—really looked at her, not with suspicion, but with the clarity of someone who'd seen both the cost and the necessity of war.

"But it always comes down to this: Are you willing to let harm come to your people just to keep your hands clean? To protect your "Morals?"

A beat passed.

"We dont pick fights to feel powerful. We pick them to remind the Galaxy we are not Prey"

He shifted his weight, the plates of his armor whispering against one another. The wind caught the edge of his ruined cloak.
"And when the fights over, We bury the dead. Ours and Theirs, because no one else will"





 

U28oNJI.png

MANDALORE - COURT OF IRON

The chamber held its breath.

The Chancellor had spoken clearly: measured, careful, and political. There was strength in his words, yes. But also hope. A different kind of reach.

Aether did not respond at once.

Instead, the Mand’alor sat in perfect silence, his helm angled forward but not bowed. No tension in his frame. No visible reaction. Just the soft, rhythmic sound of his fingers tapping lightly along the throne’s armrest.

One. Two. Three taps. Then he stopped.

"I was not aware of your doctrine concerning mercenary forces," Aether said plainly, voice low but firm. "It is not my place to ask the Alliance to change the foundations of its governance for the sake of a single contract. If, in time, such a change is seen as beneficial to both our nations, then let it be your democracy that leads you to that conclusion."

There was no malice in his words. No judgment. Only an acknowledgment of the reality they both served.

"But you’ve offered more than rejection. You’ve offered direction."

Aether paused. The chamber seemed to narrow in focus as he continued.

"Taris has been Mandalorian since the Darkness broke. It was reclaimed, rebuilt, and protected without fanfare, without fleets from the Core. Only in recent years did it bear your banner again. I respect the spirit behind your proposal... but Mandalore must be the one to ensure Taris stands. It is part of our house."

He let that stand on its own. Firm, but not dismissive.

Still, there was a shift in his tone now, one that suggested not finality, but opportunity.

"You’ve inspired a fresh path forward."

His hand opened slightly atop the throne's arm, a gesture of offering.

"I propose the following. First, a resolute line shall be established. Direct and secure communication between the Chancellor and the Mand’alor. If a moment ever threatens to unravel peace, we will have the means to cut through confusion before it festers."

His gaze turned subtly toward the others in the room.

"Second, envoys. You will appoint one. So will we. Each shall observe, with proper notice and dignity, the workings of the other’s nation. Not as spies. As students. Cultural exchange, political observation, and mutual clarity. We do not operate in the same ways, but this will help us understand why."

Aether leaned back, just slightly. His voice remained steady.

"And third... as your laws do not yet accommodate Mandalore as a military contractor, then perhaps we can provide another function."

He let the thought breathe.

"Mandalore will offer itself on retainer as a neutral host for high-level negotiations. A neutral ground. When the Alliance requires a secure, independent location for talks of immense import, between worlds, factions, even... ancient enemies, you may call upon us."

He didn’t name them. He didn’t need to.

"We will provide the space. The security. The moderation, if asked. No risks to your capital. No concessions to those who do not deserve them. Just a battlefield where words can win instead of war."

A pause followed. Not a dramatic one. Just long enough for the weight to settle.

"These are the terms we offer. If these paths align with your vision... then let us begin building from here."

The throne did not shift. But Aether waited. Not as a ruler issuing demands. As a warrior who had spoken his peace and was now ready to listen.​

 
joaXddg.png


nGPMKK4.png



OBJECTIVE II - TARIS: NEW EMPIRE
Nj9Azxv.png




nGPMKK4.png


Waiting on the comms channel that he left a message transmission on. Tyron did continue handing out what supplies were available located in the outpost the Alliance forces had set-up. An alert transmission came through where Jed Knight Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania had responded to the Besalisk's last transmission.

Corazona said said:
"We're about to head into the city, Padawan. You may stay with the transports organizing supplies if you wish, but we could use an extra pair of arms or two once we arrive. I'm told that there are still survivors needing to be pulled from the rubble."

[Master Ascania, I'll finish up issuing out supplies at this outpost and rendezvous with you all in the city. I was with Master Vanagor briefly. I was with Padawan Daival but she left in one of the transport shuttles.]

The Besalisk ended his comm call with the Jedi Knight and having mentioned about Padawan Learner Reina Daival Reina Daival being here. It left a saddened atmosphere around Tyron. Not seeing Reina return or help with the supplies. Did he overstep? He was unsure. A feeling and thought inside of Tyron had urged him to make amends with Reina Daival Reina Daival the next time the two meet one another in or out of the field.

The Padawan Learner decided that now would be a good time to regroup with fellow Jedi and help in the city that Jedi Knight Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania had mentioned to him over the comms. Perhaps he would meet up with Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor again and other Jedi that answered the call to lend aid for the Tarisians.


[This is Padawan Khan. I'm finishing up at the supply outpost and heading for the city.]


Tyron finished up his efforts and time at the supply outpost he had been working within. Now he took a speeder bike and journeyed off to the coordinates for the city. He was hopeful in supporting the cause further and although Taris endured a lot of tragedy through time. Now was the moment to help with the healing.






 


2a3f73c2f59cf985966db90285f719867250283d.pnj
Objective II

Adonis' sardonic comment was answered with a hearty laugh. Humor, usually of the sarcastic variety, was one of Athena's crutches, and having someone else play into it pleased her.

The Angelis called himself a grunt, cannon fodder, and the comment earned a smirk behind the woman's helmet. He was far from either of those things. Adonis was a Mandalorian Knight, a Force-wielder. Athena's own connection to the Force was far too uncultivated for that station. For her, it was something raw that was inherent to her people, and only manifest in interaction with animalkind. A Knight was a rare breed, adept in the ways of the Force. The man was far from a mere mercenary or soldier, but Athena found his humility not feigned or a weakness, but quiet strength.

She too was not one for politics. Not that Athena didn't understand them, nor that she underestimated their significance. It was just that diplomacy was a matter in which she was not gifted.

"I left the company of blowhards to seek the wisdom of the one smart enough to keep her distance until the tension eased...And I wanted to see the woman who rode in on a dragon."

Athena laughed again, truly amused as she gripped the offered arm just below his elbow. " Athena... and wisdom may not be the right word." She replied, her grip slipping from the Knight's arm. "But I had nothing to offer that would have swayed either side. I felt taking up a position where I was not in the midst of the sparks would allow me to be more...useful... should the need arise."

Her helmeted head turned as she glanced back at Miit'ator. The slate gray dragon appeared dreadfully bored herself, lying on the cracked duracrete with her horned head resting on her powerful, folded forearms, leathery wings folded against her body. She was large, but her kind was smaller than the more prominent breed of dragons on Arkania.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of booing and jeering erupting from the vod in the area. Jonah Jonah , in his own special kind of wisdom, was managing the talks with the Jedi quite well without her or the Knight's help. Turning back to Adonis, Athena's helmeted head tilted slightly.

"I was just going to loom over the Alliance folks, but I have a better idea. Would you like to meet her?" She asked, gesturing in the direction of the dragon.

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV Adonis Angelis IV

 

"Second, envoys. You will appoint one. So will we. Each shall observe, with proper notice and dignity, the workings of the other’s nation. Not as spies. As students. Cultural exchange, political observation, and mutual clarity. We do not operate in the same ways, but this will help us understand why."

Lander had been listening intently now, taking in every word and gesture. He had said his peace and left the rest to his Chancellor, just as he stated he would. Now there was a curious development. An envoy to Mandalore? That was a step beyond simple negotiations and trade. There was something more personal about such a thing. Yet who would they send with the experience to fulfill such a role?

As the terms continued, the Sacorrian found his stress easing a considerable amount. This was the path forward, the future. He was certain that these were the terms that would put both nations on the right path. It only lay in the hands of the Chancellor to accept.

The freshmen senator wasn't very familiar with Chancellor Organa more than his policy. He seemed a fair and just leader, but every word he ever heard from the politician only made him curious about the man himself. Perhaps he would have to request council from the Chancellor at some point, just to establish some rapport.

Regardless, the stage was set. Hopefully this would be it.


 
OBJECTIVE II
LIFE FOR LIGHT; ATTN: JEDI

Cassvar pulled on the chain to get the hostages closer to herself. They cowered at the sight of the massive Hutt. Cowered because some of them would be crushed too, if he went through with his threat. She almost wanted to find out if he actually would. If he was one of those people who sacrificed the lives of the few to save the many, or, in this case, half-and-half. However, a more interesting thought crossed her mind.

That armor looked incredibly expensive. Well made and ornately decorated. Most importantly, it was inorganic, inanimate. A shell with something much more fragile inside.

There was a question on her mind, a curiosity to be sated. She hadn't done anything strenuous all day, so her body still brimmed with energy. She reached out with her free hand toward the Hutt, intending to place her hand on the armor. Not aggressively, she did it casually. The curious touch of someone evaluating a fabric for a new garment.

If her hand made contact, her game would begin. As a B'rknaa, her stone 'body' was little more than her own shell animated by the energy of her true body. She would pour that energy through her hand and into the inanimate matter of the armor. The process would bring it to life as an extension of herself. The metals and components of the armor would become hers to shape and control, and she had a specific idea in mind. She wondered how much she would need to squeeze a Hutt's body before it would implode from pressure.

Whottoomuzz Chantin Whottoomuzz Chantin
 
Last edited:
yOBUJrI.png





Her hand reached.

And in the moment it nearly touched — the armor answered.

The Shyran Dol exhaled a surge of heat as its advanced personal shield matrix flickered to life with a low thrumming hum, flaring a rippling gold ripple around the massive gauntlet just inches from her stone palm. The air snapped with ionizing force as the bubble pushed back — not enough to throw the hand back but more than enough to halt the motion mid-reach.

In the same heartbeat, a dull click echoed from Whottoomuzz's left pauldron. The shape of a shoulder-mounted blaster turret swiveled into place — targeting systems locking not on her face, but center-mass of her rocky torso.

"Nopa."

Every inch of him remained steady — except for the glow of heat pooling behind his visor. The pressure in the corridor shifted.

 
joaXddg.png


nGPMKK4.png



OBJECTIVE II - TARIS: NEW EMPIRE

Nj9Azxv.png



nGPMKK4.png


Finally, he reached the city upon Taris. In hopes to lend aid and support all Tarisians he can where possible without stepping on toes of the Mandalorian presence set here. Once he got to the ruins of the city that remained. Tyron immediately began assisting retrieving bodies from building structures that collapsed. He was cautious in his approach towards everyone and everything within the area.

The Besalisk decided to volunteer himself in being medical EVAC for the Tarisians going back and forth in a number of trips. Bringing medical aid and support from the Galactic Alliance while under the monitoring of the Mandalorians that have a strong presence on the planet Taris. He was treating everyone and everything with the utmost respect. Keeping the peace and perhaps being a beacon of Hope for those injured, ill, etc.



~Exit Thread~





Outfit: Clothes
Weapons: Double-Bladed Lightsabers
Saber Hilts: Guardian Hilt | Vanquisher Hilt
Master: Kaeleon Seleare | Kei Raxis
TAGS: None, exiting thread

nGPMKK4.png
 

wjujCZT.png
Cora followed the tilt of Jaikell's visor toward the Taris skyline. It lingered there for a moment, then met his gaze - or as she imagined it from behind the helmet - when he refocused on her. The air was thick with smoke and ash, but now it grew heavy with gravity, too.

The Jedi drew in a slow breath. Iterations before this new Empire had marched for conquest, and while his intentions seemed more honorable, the grisly past always lingered above them.

After all, a dog could not be blamed for snapping its teeth after being bitten. Everyone wanted to survive. Thrive, even.

"Your people came to my home once. Not for resources or for power - none of that to be found on a little agriworld anyway. They did it to send a message."

Cora tilted her head back. For a moment, the Taris skyline was overlain with Ukatis'. Watching one's home burn was the sort of thing you never forgot.

"War finds everyone. Especially the innocent. If protecting my people has dirtied my hands, then I suppose I'll never wash them again."

There was no anger in her tone, no blame. Her words were solemn, the grave voice of a woman understood the cost of war. In her mind's eye, she wiped the brushstrokes away before they could for a clear image of that grim memory when warriors who looked like him ravaged Ukatis.

"That being said…"

A slow exhale, and some of that stern facade melted. Cora tsked.

"I'd be sorely disappointed if this aid operation of our turns out to be a trap and they didn't tell me."

Jaikell Wyrvhor Jaikell Wyrvhor
Dc6pDtW.png
 

Objective II
Tag: Athena Faar Athena Faar
851e51123e67c776bad5c4777f05069c8c786e67.pnj

The laugh caught him off guard, not because it was surprising, but because of how real it sounded. Athena didn't chuckle behind a mask or offer some dry response to keep her edge. She laughed like someone who'd earned the right to stop pretending for a moment. It was raw and unfiltered, and it broke through the tension that had hung like mist since the moment they'd landed. That alone told him more about her than most of the dossiers and rumors ever could.

Her grip, when she took his arm, was exactly what he expected: firm, controlled, efficient. There was nothing showy about it. Just strength, uncomplicated and understood. No need to test, no need to posture. When she released him and gave her name, just Athena, it landed with a certain gravity. It wasn't humility; it was certainty. She didn't have to explain who she was. That clarity was its own kind of power.

Her answer made sense, more than sense, it was strategic. She hadn't remained on the sidelines out of disinterest or fear. She had watched, measured, and positioned herself where she could make a difference if it came to that. No wasted energy. No impulsive entry. It was the same principle that guided Adonis in a fight: don't draw unless you're ready to commit. She hadn't drawn. She hadn't needed to.

He followed her gaze as it drifted toward the dragon. Miit'ator. Still now, sprawled across broken duracrete like some great statue left behind by an older civilization. She didn't need to bare her teeth to command attention. There was danger in that stillness, the kind that came from knowing you could destroy something but choosing not to. Adonis understood that. Restraint wasn't a lack of threat. It was a form of discipline.

Then came the noise- jeering, a few calls from the edge of the staging zone. Mandalorians voicing their opinions about Jedi presence and diplomacy the way they always did: loudly and without subtlety. Adonis didn't even glance back. If Jonah needed him, he'd call. But right now, this moment felt like it mattered more. He wasn't a politician, and he wasn't needed to posture anymore. He was here to see.

Athena turned to him again, her voice carrying a new current. Less edge, more mischief. Something warm enough to crack through his own internal guard.

With her offer to see the dragon, his interest piqued noticeably. He paused, visor flicking once more toward the beast. It was every man's dream to be able to meet a creature like Miit'ator and live to tell the story...or at least he hoped.

"Will she bite?" he asked, half serious.

A beat passed, long enough to register that he wasn't actually afraid, just respectful. The joke was there, quiet in the undertone, but it was layered over real caution. You didn't walk casually up to a creature that could snap your spine in half. Not unless you were foolish or reckless. He was neither.

He looked back to Athena, tilting his head just slightly, acknowledging the offer for what it was: a small breach in the walls most warriors kept up. Not many would have extended that kind of gesture. He didn't intend to waste it.

"She's impressive," he added, quieter now. "Didn't think anything would make this place feel small."

Another glance at the dragon. Then, to Athena.

"Lead the way."

Because whatever came next, it was better than standing still.

 

There was... a pregnant pause in the room.

Throughout the negotiation, a cutting, pensive expression hadn't been far from the Chancellor's face. Alicio had always been that way, Valery knew it- his mind never stood still, especially in silence. Always, it darted to and fro, stalking lines of reasoning, bristling at new information. For him, stillness meant clinical thought.

He was very still.

A deal built upon sharing knowledge, communication, peace, and with room to grow. Of course it sounded too good to be true. He didn't trust it. The Mandalorians in this room were honorable, that much he could see. Alicio trusted they had every intention to honor their word.

But would the Iron hold?

Alicio's jaw relaxed. It seemed he made his decision. Then, with deliberate movements, he stepped forward... and bowed to Aether Verd, bending at the waist, one hand clutching near his heart, the other neatly behind his back. A concession of trust. An acknowledgement of shared purpose. "By your word, Mand'alor." Then, he straightened, and extended a hand.

It was a small, quiet thing.


"I accept."
 

U28oNJI.png

MANDALORE

Silence reigned.

It did not press upon Aether. It did not unsettle him. He welcomed it.

In silence, choices were weighed. And this...this was no light matter. What was decided within these walls would ripple outward, through hyperspace lanes and cityscapes, through soldiers’ ranks and statesmen’s halls. The fate of trillions balanced on measured words and quiet hands.

So when the Chancellor moved, Aether observed without flinch. The bow was unexpected, but not misunderstood.

His brow lifted faintly beneath the helm. A concession of trust.

The Mand’alor rose. No guards flanked him. No advisors stirred. The Iron Throne stood behind him, but he did not need its height. He stepped forward once, then brought his dominant fist to his chest with a resounding clang. A gesture of equal weight: unspoken, but understood. Trust, returned.

Then, the Chancellor extended his hand.

Aether took it. The clasp was firm. Steady. A warrior’s shake.

A small, quiet thing.

And yet, it marked the beginning of something vast.

“Then by your word, Chancellor…” Aether said, voice low but resolute, “we have an Accord.”

He held the moment.

No celebration followed. No fanfare. But a foundation had been laid.

And from that foundation, the Alliance and the Mandalorian Empire would build: through clarity, through exchange, and through peace.​

 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom