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[Aether Verd]

THE WILL OF EMPIRE
"What say the Clans, what say the Empire?"​

THE HALL OF BANNERS, MANDALORE

Ever since the Mandalorian Empire stepped into the greater stage of the Galaxy, all around them has been Chaos. Whilst their warriors struggled against the horrors of the Gravesong War, powers rose and fell beside them. Whilst they raided during the Black Summer, powers clashed in proximity. Now, before them stands a budding adversary in the Diarchy, but beyond that presence lies a deeper question that demands an answer. How shall Mandalore regard the Chaos that surrounds the Galaxy?

It is for this reason that the Mand'alor has summoned a gathering. The matters are not trivial, for they concern the aggression of the Diarchy and the path Mandalore will chart amongst its neighbors and beyond. Every decision will shape the lives of clans, worlds, and citizens alike. He does not approach this charge with haste. However the morrow is to be faced will be guided by the voices that are raised today.

The Hall of Banners in Keldabe, erected by the hands of MandalMotors, is where this meeting unfolds. There, amidst the banners of the people, the Mand'alor sits with helm resting upon the table before him. When he calls the gathering to order, he does so by painting a picture of the challenge before them.

“The first question we must answer together is that of the Diarchy,” he begins, his voice carrying across the chamber. “From the very beginning our dealings with them were poisoned with treachery. Their personnel descended upon Taris to stir rebellion within an ancestral world. Only when the Gravesong War crossed their borders did they extend an olive branch. They offered us a retainer contract, the return of all beskar mined from Echoy'la, and dual citizenship for those who called Echoy'la home. They pledged to honor Echoy'la, our colony, as sacred to our people. In return, they sought our strength to end the outbreak upon Yavin 4. We kept our word. We held firm to neutrality.”

His gaze sweeps the assembly, and he continues. “But as Vexis Station revealed, the treachery of the Diarchy endures. Their agents once more descended, spreading distrust toward Mandalore while cloaking themselves as saviors. And in the chaos, a Mandalorian child was slain. We answered with blood, and since that day we have contested the Diarchy wherever they appeared in neutral space.”

He leans forward, hands resting on the table. “Now we have come to a turning point. The Great Heathen Army stands ready to make the Diarchy answer for their betrayals. Yet before I command your sons and daughters to march, I would hear the will of the Empire. Shall we take battle into their territory, or grant them a chance to atone for their sins?"​

"What say the Clans? What say the Empire?”​

 

[Lynn Caromed]

Lynn did not take pleasure in meetings like this. She preferred action whenever possible. While she was hidebound and hewed to tradition more than most in her clan, Caromed had been wounded previously and the scars still showed. They didn't have much. Their hospitals were always full and lacking supply, their contribution to calls always diminished by the lack of bodies they could bring to bear. They didn't have much, and what they DID have remained in the polluted streets of Taris. Their home for centuries, despite their authority being whisper-thin in the modern era.

The purges had hit them where they lived. Gravesong had hit them where they lived. The Diarchy had taken a child from Taris, used the condition of her home as the inciting incident.

Lynn could not spare a single drop of blood, that could be spent rebuilding the clan. A single Mandalorian life, in her estimation, was worth rivers of blood and decades of vengeance - and more so . She would personally slaughter cities of Diarch children just to drive this calculus home, given the chance.

"Caromed devotes itself to the cause of slaughter." Lynn spoke up first, sharply, her eyes narrowing as she scanned all in attendance, the bloodstained green-and-white helmet of her Beskar'gam tucked under her arm. "Our soldiers and medics will join the front lines in any conflict that sheds Diarchy blood. Our homes are open to any who would be their enemy."

 

[Domina Prime]

I HEAR THIS VOICE KEEP ASKING ME
IS THIS MY BLOOD OR IS IT BLASPHEMY?

Aether Verd ​

The Hall of Banners thrummed with tension as the words of Mand'alor Aether settled over the gathered leaders like a heavy stormcloud. Banners of a hundred clans whispered in the faint currents of the chamber, carrying with them histories of glory and ruin alike.

Dima had slipped into her seat long before the others had finished filing in, her alien frame folded with a predator's ease into the chair as though she owned it. A beskar dagger sang faintly against her claws as she dragged it back and forth, filing her talons while the Mand'alor painted the grim portrait of betrayal and decision before them. She listened quietly, thoughtfully, but with the relaxed posture of one who lived far more comfortably on the battlefield than in a council chamber.

Her tail flicked lazily over the back of her seat, her legs swung over the armrest like an unruly child's, yet her eyes gleamed with something sharper. For so long she had been just that: a weapon. A tool wielded by others in the name of Kad Ha'rangir's endless fire. But House Prime had risen again, and with it came the uncomfortable truth. She was no longer simply a blade. She was a voice. A shadow people turned to when silence grew too heavy.

When the Mand'alor's words ended, silence loomed. Dima let it linger a beat longer before breaking it with the scrape of steel burying into wood. Her dagger stuck quivering in the table between them, and her grin sharpened behind her Mandalorian Mask.

"In the old mantras of our kin," she began, her tone a playful sing-song, "They say that to wage war is to welcome it. First, friends. Then... not so much. Funny, isn't it? How often the song repeats. We've done it with Jedi, Sithlings, and god knows many more." Her wrist rolled in a careless flourish, gesturing to the chamber as if all of Mandalore's history were a stage they were doomed to perform upon.

"So, what's the plan this time? Talk it out? Hug it out? Maybe even share a few kisses, if we're feeling generous?" She giggled, a girlish, mocking laugh that nevertheless carried an edge. Then her claws raked across the curved edge of her kopis, the sound like a promise of blood. "Meanwhile, the Diarchy smiles and shakes our hand with one and hides a dagger in the other. Always the same act. Always the same betrayal. The cycle plays out again and again."

She leaned forward, claws curling, her voice dropping into a purr. "So why don't we spare the gods a comedy, hm? We're not here to play diplomats. We are the descendants of the fiercest warlords the galaxy ever burned beneath. Either we live that truth...or we don't."

Then she spread her arms wide, painting her own vision in the air. "Picture it. No fleets. No war engines. No endless armies. Just us...their best, our best. A clash of champions on behalf of their respective sides. A war-feast for the gods to savor. And to the victor, the spoils. On acceptable terms of the loser of course."

For a moment, she seemed caught in the fantasy, her helm tilting upward as if seeing it unfold in crimson hues above her. Then, with a scoff, she rolled her eyes and leaned back, tail curling with amusement. "Or feth it. We can just do the same tired song and dance. Throw bodies at each other until one side runs out of them! Everyone here clearly knows those steps well enough. What do I know it clearly goes so well EVERY time~"

Her claws flexed over the dagger still quivering in the table, the faintest tremor of laughter escaping her mask. Half-jest, half-threat, wholly Dima.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

"The Nightsisters have never been ones eager to join in the wars of others," Vytal announced, her emerald gaze slowly panned across the other faces in attendance. Her pale features highlighted with black did not flinch at any body language suggesting disapproval. "Our magick has often been an exploited source of knowledge and power, tis left them disinterested in such things."

Recent events weren't much of an exception to that rule. One slain offworlder had set armies against one another? A number of clans dismissed the entire affair as beneath them from the start. Had it been a Daughter of Dathomir, however, things would have been different. It was as she'd expected -- her Sisters were not the sort to be cowed into obedience no matter what Vytal's background.

"The Empire has done what it must to maintain its authority. Outsiders sought to undermine that authority, which led to violence, and now tis a self-sustaining cycle." The Dathomiri woman nodded in Domina's direction. "Perhaps you could talk it out, but they started this believing you unwilling to respond. Twould be in our custom for you to instill in them the fact you will respond. Now. In the future. Whenever and wherever they choose."

"My Sisters may not fight on the front line, but we will support you. Your Shaman Warmaster will have a number of Sisters to protect, heal, and if need be attack your enemies." A horde of magick wielding warriors was not in the cards, but that didn't mean all of the Nightsisters would sit it out. Vytal had managed to convince some to support the Empire to ensure Dathomir's independence; and Aether, to his word, had not made any effort to colonize or dominate their world. It would be a slow process to unravel their desire for isolation. And in some respect, Vytal was hesitant to unravel it too quickly or too thoroughly. The galaxy was not ready for Dathomir to make its claim on the galaxy. They had enough problems with the Sith.

Aether Verd | Lynn Caromed | Domina Prime​

 

[Aselia Verd]

She sat at Aether's right, her helm resting atop the table before her, the firelight catching on its crimson trim. Silent, watchful, Aselia listened as each voice was raised, weighing every word without dismissal. But when the time came, she turned to the Mand'alor, dipped her head in brief acknowledgment then began to speak.

"You know our way, Mand'alor. The Diarchy has shown us theirs."

Her eyes swept across the chamber, tracking every face. "Not once. Not twice. But every time their shadow crosses ours. They preach peace while drawing blood. They extend a hand only after their blade has already cut us. We are not prey to be soothed with soft words while the hunter circles closer."

Her voice hardened, steel edged with fire.

"They killed a child on Vexis. A Mandalorian child." She paused for a moment, remembering her own fate during the force purges, how she had nearly been killed by her own kin if not for the pity of one man. "That child had no chance. No mercy. No future. That alone is reason enough to march. But beyond vengeance, there is truth. If we show weakness now, then tomorrow it will not be just one child."

She turned her head toward Domina Prime eyes fixing on her. "You make a good point though, if we can settle this in a way that spares more Mandalorian civilians. This would be preferable to all out war, but do not mistake my meaning. If war is what we choose then we fight it to win." she turned back to Aether "However, our goal all along has been to protect our people. Not to be the crusaders before us. If we keep to that ideal our course becomes clear."

TAG: Aether Verd Lynn Caromed Vytal Noctura Domina Prime + OPEN

​

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra Kast stood off to the side of the hall, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, listening to the gathered voice their opinions. As she figured, most were wanting bloodshed.

"Mand'alor," she begins, her tone measured, "I understand the fire that burns in the hearts of those gathered here. The Diarchy's treachery is a wound we all feel, and the instinct to strike swiftly is one that has guided Mandalore for generations. Yet instinct alone has cost us sons and daughters too many times to count."

She steps closer to the table, meeting the eyes of her peers. "We cannot allow emotion to drive the decisions of the Empire. Before we go firing wildly, let us send scouts ascertain the truth of this attack. Was this truly the Diarchy acting as one, or merely the hand of a rogue agent? If we strike blindly, we risk spilling blood needlessly."

Her gaze sweeps the assembly, calm but unyielding. "Reconnaissance will be preparation. Knowledge will sharpen our swords and ensure that when Mandalore's will is carried out, it is carried out with precision, justice, and honor. The Galaxy may be chaos, but our response need not be."

Aether Verd Lynn Caromed Vytal Noctura Domina Prime Aselia Verd

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

ADONIS ANGELIS IV
Mandalorian Knight of House Angelis | Risen Son of Vaal | Vanguard of the Manda
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It had been some time since Adonis last set foot in this hall. The last time, Mand'alor had announced his Warmasters, proclaiming Mandalore's virtues and vision. The months since had been hard ones, each campaign, each raid, each battlefield giving Adonis new scars and new understanding. He had faced towering horrors and crawling abominations, enemies that would have broken lesser peoples. Yet time and again, his brothers and sisters had stood tall. They proved to him that Mandalorian might was not measured only in beskar plating, but in the Creed itself. Mandalore was a people, not a bloodline, and its strength ran deeper than steel.

When Adonis arrived, he slipped in at the rear, his white-and-gold beskar'gam blending with the press of warriors before finding a place at the table. He removed his helm and set it down with care, dark amber eyes following each speaker in turn. Caromed, with blood vengeance burning. Domina, his war-sister, mocking the gods and fate in her sharp-edged way. Vytal, weaving Dathomir's pragmatism into the fire. Aselia, fierce yet tempered, protective of their people. And Kast, a new voice, demanding caution and precision before war.

Adonis turned their words over in his mind, weighing them as a commander might weigh the fate of his own people. He thought of Vaal, of his kin. What kind of leader would let his own die without consequence? What kind of Mandalorian would barter blood for the faint promise of favor or ground gained? Not him. Not ever.

At last, he rose, towering nearly seven feet in full armor. Silence rippled as his voice carried.

"How much more do we endure before we break?" His gaze swept the banners overhead, then returned to the table. "Twice now we have shown them that when they cut us, we bleed, and we bleed together. Twice now, we have answered. But when do we show them what it truly means to cross Mandalore?"

His crushgaunt crashed against the table with a thunderous crack, punctuating his words.

"Why do we keep smacking the dog on the nose," he growled, voice rising, "instead of putting it down?"

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TAG: Aether Verd Aselia Verd Domina Prime Korra Kast Vytal Noctura Lynn Caromed ​

 

[Aether Verd]

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

HALL OF BANNERS, MANDALORE

Aether listened.

Above all else, he listened. His gaze moved from voice to voice, helm still upon the table, but his focus never strayed from those who spoke in turn. He hearkened to Caromed’s vow, understanding well the scars carved upon Taris, and how the Diarchy’s offenses had piled too high upon their suffering. He hearkened to Domina’s antics, sharp as ever, for though she mocked the cycle of diplomacy and war, she did not lie in saying history repeated itself in blood. He hearkened to Vytal, who had won what few of Dathomir would lend, and who now pledged them to Mandalore’s cause. He hearkened to Aselia, whose conviction burned fierce but whose heart yet bent toward the protection of their civilians. He hearkened to Korra, who urged that Mandalore not be ruled by instinct alone, but rather strike with precision after knowledge was won. And he hearkened to Adonis, whose passion thundered against the table, demanding that Mandalore rise and break the Diarchy once and for all.

The Empire was speaking, and the Mand’alor was listening.

When he finally spoke, his voice filled the chamber with calm severity. “My soul burns at the loss of our child. A life that could have one day worn the mantle of Sole Ruler. A future robbed from Mandalore, taken before it could flourish. That loss is unforgivable. That loss demands an answer.” His words did not thunder as Adonis’ had, but every syllable cut with equal ferocity.

“As much as it would be beautiful if peace could prevail, as much as it would be a wonder if champions could clash instead of armies, I cannot forget the truth of our adversary. The Diarchy are crafty. If their word meant anything, our child would still live. Their hand is poisoned, their promises hollow.” He leaned forward, hands resting upon the table as he continued. “What I want more than anything is to rally the Great Heathen Army. What I want is to call a Crusade. I want to honor our ancestors and the Neo-Crusaders before us by laying waste to the Diarchy in total war. But two extremes give me pause.”

His gaze moved across the assembly. “First are our own. Mandalorian citizens live within Diarchy borders. Echoy’la stands as holy to us, yet its people are vulnerable. If I call for war without restraint, then Echoy’la will pay the price of reprisal. Second is the nature of the Diarchy itself. What do both of our encounters share in common? Their agents were present and active where they had no right to be. At Taris. At Vexis Station. Close to and within our very borders. Their shadows are their strength, and any action we take against them will surely awaken those shadows within our midst.”

He allowed the chamber a breath before speaking once more. “Thus far, the direction our midst seeks is reprisal, though temperance has been urged and noted. These two concerns, I lay before you now.​

What say the Clans? What say the Empire?​

Adonis Angelis IV , Aselia Verd , Domina Prime , Korra Kast , Vytal Noctura , Lynn Caromed

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

HALL OF BANNERS​

Tag: Aether Verd Adonis Angelis IV Aselia Verd Domina Prime Korra Kast Vytal Noctura Lynn Caromed​

​

Siv Kryze rose, helm upon his head, its T-visor reflecting the firelight of the Hall of Banners. When he spoke, it was with the measured clarity of a warrior who carried both his clan's name and Mandalore's burden.

"Mand'alor. Clans. Know this, Clan Kryze has borne the mantle of leadership before. Ours is a legacy that remembers both the folly of endless crusades and the ruin that comes when Mandalore waits too long to act. It has always fallen to my bloodline to balance restraint with resolve, to guard Mandalore's fire without allowing it to be smothered."

His helm turned slowly, visor catching the chamber's light as it swept the gathered banners.

"We have not been reckless. When the Diarchy reached with false promises, we offered the olive branch. When others rushed to war, we held to discipline. When Yavin burned, we stood by our word. That was not weakness. That was honor. That was Mandalore proving we are not the raiders of the past, but a people capable of restraint when restraint is wisdom."

His gauntleted fist struck the obsidian table once, the sound sharp as a gunshot.

"And what was our reward? Treachery. A child slain at Vexis. Lies woven into every accord. They looked upon our patience and called it hesitation. They saw the olive branch in our hand and believed Mandalore too timid to raise the sword."

The voice within the helmet hardened, carrying the steel of conviction.

"That illusion ends here. The branch is broken. Now the sword must speak. And when it speaks, it cannot linger in a war that strangles our trade and starves our people. The routes and markets that could enrich this Empire will rot if we fight half a war. No! This stroke must be swift. It must be merciless. One blow that shatters their fleets, their coffers, their falsehoods and brands upon the galaxy's memory what Mandalore is."

The visor fixed forward, unyielding, beskar gleaming beneath the chamber's light.

"This is the truth of Clan Kryze: peace is offered once, and once only. Refuse it, and Mandalore does not hesitate. Our patience has been mistaken for weakness. Let us correct their error. Raise the sword, Mand'alor, and we shall show them that while Mandalore's peace is honorable, our wrath is final."

 

[Kirae Orade]

Tags: Aether Verd Adonis Angelis IV Aselia Verd Domina Prime Korra Kast Vytal Noctura Lynn Caromed Siv Kryze


It felt wrong for Kirae to be here. She was only here since she was the only one of her clan who still remained. It should have been someone else here than her. Someone more aggressive. Willing to go on the offensive for their people. But that person didn't exist. Instead, Kirae did. She knew she was defensive. Far too defensive. Her eyes focused on the galactic map on her display as she was trying to come up with some kind of plan. Something that would add to the discussion, instead of her standing here as a witless bystander.

Echoy'la was close to the Diarchy's capital. The idea of suggesting an evacuation alongside an assault would be folly in that case. There would be far too many defensive tactics the Diarchy would have for protecting that space. Even if they hit fast and hard, it was likely Diarchy agents would be able to report their movements. She could feel her blood boiling more and more at the suggestion for them to go straight into war, without thought about their people that were in Diarchy space. The people that Kirae wanted to protect...but she kept her mouth shut. Anger would get them no where.

"...The idea of an honourable duel between champions to decide between the Diarchy and us is a good one. Though there is one specific fault with that idea that stands out to me. How do we know the Diarchy will honour it? They're a serpent. And the best way to deal with a serpent is to go for its head. Yet at the same time, if we go on a full assault...Echoy'la is deep within the Diarchy's influence. Even if we tried to evacuate our people, there's a high likelihood it would not go well."

She knew there would be possibly some who would be offended at the concept of evacuating the planet. Evacuating a holy world, but in Kirae's eyes, it wasn't the worlds that made Mandalorians. It was the people. Not the territory. Without the people, all they'd have were relics and ruins. Either way. She had said her piece now, so Kirae just went back to standing in silence.​

 

[Alara Ordo]

How long had it been since she set foot on Mandalore? Since she had truly been amongst her own people in large numbers such as this? Last she remembered, she had been in her mid teens. Before she vanished into the dregs of society, and becoming all to familiar with the galaxies criminal underworld. So far as to even become part of it herself.

Now here she stood at the edge of the shadows in the Hall of Banners. The visor from her helmet occasionally catching the light from beneath the hood of her poncho. She was here more to observe then to speak. So used to the politics of her own planet that she almost forgot how straightforward Mandalorian politics could be sometimes. This Diarchy, however, was a new threat that could even reach her little syndicate halfway across the galaxy.

She stepped some out of the shadows. Voice slightly raspy as she spoke her words. "Whispers of what the Diarchy has done, and still does, has made its way through the criminal underworld. I can tell you, it does not paint a very good picture of honor and trust. The killing of a Mandalorian child is unfortunate, but not surprising considering what they do to their own people who do not conform to their ideology."

"They indoctrinate children with their philosophy of peace. Even as twisted as their definition of it is. Whose to say they're not trying to warp the minds of our children already. In hopes of quietly moving them into our ranks to destabilize us from the inside." She paused for a moment and scanned those who were present. "We need to act, but not rashly. For that could be dangerous for our people on Echoy'la. I know smugglers who can get supplies to them if things get worse, but it might not be enough."

"As for striking back. Rushing in and striking at the first thing won't do any good. The average soldier means nothing in the long scheme of things for them. Just another being to further their cause. It would be better to prod their defenses, see who yells the loudest. Then silence them. Removing the voices of their philosophers or bringing down their leaders will do more to being a thorn in their side then killing a few grunts."

Aether Verd Aselia Verd Adonis Angelis IV Domina Prime Korra Kast Vytal Noctura Lynn Caromed Siv Kryze

 

[Domina Prime]

I HEAR THIS VOICE KEEP ASKING ME
IS THIS MY BLOOD OR IS IT BLASPHEMY?

Aether Verd | Adonis Angelis IV | Alara Ordo | Kirae Orade | Siv Kryze | Korra Kast | Vytal Noctura | Lynn Caromed ​

And for once, it seemed the Assembly carried an unusual current of unity. Each voice brought its own flavor of conviction. Some, like Siv Kryze warning against the folly of endless war, others salivating at the chance for annihilation such as Lynn Caromed . Some were on the side of conflict mixed with caution like Korra Kast & Aselia Verd . But all were aligned in their understanding: this slight could not go unanswered. Even the concept of duels were entertained, though not without concern that the Diarchy would prove too craven to honor such a proposition.

The Mandalorian Xeno shifted in her chair before standing, clawed fingers drumming across the table in a steady, grating rhythm. Five eyes narrowed from behind her mask as she spoke.

"Seems we are, more or less, in alignment. The only divisions I hear are in method. Whether we strike with hammer or scalpel, Whatever is decided, Prime will play along. Scripture demands no less."

She rose to her full, imposing height, dragging one clawed finger across the table so the sound echoed like nails on slate, cutting through the chamber.

"And on this matter of champions & duels..." her tone sharpened as she removed her military cap and tucked it beneath her arm, "There was once a time when kings and rivals spared their people from endless slaughter through single combat. One crown against another. One blade to decide the fate of thousands. So why not here? Why not now? Let me, on behalf of my kith and kin, deliver the challenge directly to this Diarchy. Give them the chance to end this conflict clean, swift, and honorable."

She peeled away her mask, setting it aside with deliberate weight. Her five eyes darted across the chamber, each locking with another as a wicked grin spread across her lips.

"And if they should accept only to betray that honor? Then I promise you something sweeter. They will earn my undivided attention. And I will see to it that their shame feeds the gods for generations."

Her tone dropped lower, more venomous. As if making a promise only she herself could keep.

"Let's be really real, brothers & sisters. This so called 'Diarchy' are not Sith. They are not Jedi. They lack the weight of the Galactic Alliance, and they have none of the heavy hitters of the Dark Lords. The Diarchy may strut about like kings, but they are no warriors. They play games of crowns and treaties, not war. They are politicians. Nobles. Pretenders. Ambition far too large for their boots."

She spread two arms wide, gesturing to the hall.

"They balance their little empire on cards and borrowed coin. All it would take is the smallest strike, harass their envoys, drain their coffers, cripple their great projects. And their whole house comes crashing down. If we let them dictate terms in full war, they'll bleed us slowly. But if we take the fight to their pride and their purse? When they learn that their fleets can't guard their granaries, their nobles, and their ships all at once? They'll beg for our terms. Beg for the duel. Beg to give us the fight they cannot escape. Or They'll crumble~"

Her grin widened as she leaned forward, snarling across the table.

"So, brothers. Sisters. Lend Prime your sanction. Let me go to their gilded throne-world as emissary of blood & steel. If they honor the duel, i shall return to you for further steps. If they deny me?" she spread her four arms wide in a violent shrug, "Then they will know there is nothing stopping us from turning their world upside down." She promised as that massive tail swished and flicked behind her looming frame.