K E S T R I
Ally:
Darth Empyrean
Neutral Toward All Else
_________________________________________________________
It was
always Mandalorians.
When it came to matters of state the silvery Echani always managed to keep a level of decorum that none could falter. She was even-handed, cold, but firm. She did not lie. She did not sugar coat the truth so as to unnecessarily spare feelings; nor did she pull punches. And yet—It was always a Mandalorian presence, oft ignorant, that drove her toward breaking her own rules. She accepted the fact that her Master was Mandalorian. That for the longest time her former nation had shielded hundreds of them from the horrors that the rest of the galaxy had to offer.
And yet—here she was. Humble beginnings aside—It had already come to this. They struck at the heart of her without knowing. Without realizing.
How could they know? They had been but a gleam, but a shimmer in the sands of time when her homeworld had been orbitally bombarded by the Mandalorian Empire. They had slept soundly while their predecessors fell into ruin. Enslaved, beaten, or frightened to the point of being paralyzed…Because their own people, their own nation, had brought the beginning of the end down on their own heads. The members of the Enclave were not the same.
And yet, once again, they clamored for her heart.
They would not have it.
The young Talon did not hold any love for the Sith Doctrine. Often, she scoffed at the inherent flaws. The darkness that ran in her veins, pure as the driven snow, was present because it was the most effective tool. The Light was too easily eroded. Too easily seduced, blotted out, when the night deemed its opposite too insipid to survive. She did not hold any malice toward the Enclave, either. She had not come for their people, their homes, or even to distract them from their purpose. She had come to Kestri for one reason. One singular reason—That held sway over all else.
Darth Empyrean
.
He had been missing from her side for far too long. His loss was a wound.
Festering. The Enclave would return him—Through free will or force it mattered not. She had no loyalty to uphold. No nation to please. Purely, that which suited her. Her legendary wrath had not yet woken, though, that all depended on the state Maliphant was in
when she found him. The pale woman could feel the Sith Lord, now. A candle that flickered in and out through the ether. So close, yet not close enough.
<<Ni am símen…>> *I am here
There was the slimmest chance he could hear her, regardless, the ring on her finger. She had tried more than once over the last few solar rotations. Three days.
Three—She had been made to wait. If he had been capable of reaching out to her with more than a fething beacon he would have.
Still. She would press ahead, ever onward, toward that barrier of null that lay across the expanse of ice and cold until she too succumbed to its detriments. The reptile creatures that the Mandalorians were so fond of were to be expected. Thankfully—She had been a warrior long before the Force had come to her. A Daughter of Eshan, a soldier, and a veritable nightmare long before she had ever taken the mantle of the Dread Queen.
The white witch moved through the snow and ice as if she had been born of it. In some ways—she had. Silent as the dawn she didn't flinch from the biting winds that nipped at her armor nor did she falter when the gale sought to throw her off course. Behind her trudged a squadron of Magnaguard. She preferred machines, to people. Their eerie red eyes filled the night, though, they had their orders. They would not seek to harm those that didn't pose a tactical threat.
"…Only that which stands in your way. Take only what is required."
They all registered the brutal stillness of her frostbitten tones. They knew, with programmed orders and whirling servos, to obey her above all. They were adaptable and artificially intelligent enough to see a trap or a ruse coming a mile away. They were more efficient than organic; trustworthy. They'd sat in stasis on stealth ships long enough. A moment to them, was a year to her. A month without Maliphant, without being able to feel him, to know, that he lived and breathed was an eternity.
The
Magnaguard flooded forward with the sound of metal shifting. They would distract anything in her path while two remained on either flank. The beginnings of insanity had already descended, it seemed, and she merely needed to follow the threads as they unraveled. His presence grew stronger now. Bolder—Blazing, with every step. The sound of a horn blaring through the evening announced that the evenings' events had begun in earnest. The inhabitants of Kestri would no doubt fight back.
A missive from
Darth Carnifex
slid through her mind and her response to the former Sith Emperor would be swift. He ran the risk of alerting the Enclave—Certainly. He also ran the risk of crossing her. She was not the same woman that had sat across from him, so long ago, negotiating a treaty among their nations. Her Force-driven words would fall against his cranium, rolling against his mind like a wave, with a chill far more potent than that of the weather. A lesser being would have crumbled. Certainly, they would have also misunderstood. Felt threatened.
No. Carnifex would know better.
It was simply a fact.
<<He is mine. He—Will come to me.>>
Or - She to him. That was the way of it. Her slender form was cloaked in dark armor that served her purposes well. It would not suffer the same issues that other armor would, purely, because it did not rely on the Force to function. White hair pulled free from her hood and tangled in the wind while her visage faded from view behind a wall of winter. She could feel him growing closer. Though, her movements were measured. The Echani knew better than to rush.
Srina
would have what belonged to her. There was no doubt in her mind; nor any part of her being. She would have Maliphant back by the time the sun rose or the inhabitants of Kestri ought pray that it never rise at all. She never acted without thought. Without plan, or contingency. Magnaguard were not all she had in her arsenal. Some items, more lethal than most.
It needn't be a bloody night. Not by her hand. All this new generation of Mandalorians needed to do was avoid becoming her enemy. Return, what they had stolen. It was simple. If they chose the path of violence, however, she would respond in kind. If they chose poorly?
So be it.
Cass Gemini
