Tricks to a New Warrior Nation

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

​

Ruusan; Minor Jedi Temple

There was a new Mandalore in town.
The galaxy was no stranger to the relationship between The Order and the Mandalorians. When the field marshall had parked a cloud of ships over Coruscant the Jedi had been the ones to respond. The then Grandmaster had been requested, unprepared gabber though he was. It wasn't surprising that the two nations weren't comfortable with each other -- the history of each of their beliefs were entirely opposite. Although Jedi could be some of the most esteemed warriors on the galaxy, their roots were of knowledge and peace. The Mandalorians were aggressors, a government built on war and strength. In fact, where the Jedi Order had a unanimous election for their new leader, the Mandalorians proved their worth by brute strength or tactical decision making ; the last one standing would be the new decision maker. That was a very interesting method indeed.

Unfortunately, that was all Kiskla knew about this new Mandalore as a person. But that didn't meant she was completely in the dark. The prior leader of the warriors had been brought down by the One Sith -- and the Mandalorians had engaged the Sith government on Empress Teta; a previously owned Republic planet. The opportunity for a new leader meant there was a gap that was needed to be filled; and with changes came opportunities. One that the young Jedi Grandmaster had every intent on pouncing on, and developing into something mutually beneficial.

 

[Johnny Diamonds]

And so Johnny Diamonds simply stood there, waiting for Kiskla to tell him what the next move was. Sure, he'd gathered data for Kiskla, and did it solely for her. He was the one who found out every little thing this galaxy had to say. That was what he did, and he did it better than anyone. Slicers the galaxy over plied their trade in gathering info, trying to sell it to the highest bidder, trying to figure out how held who in their palms. But Johnny? All he ever tried to do, and succeeded at, was getting the information Kiskla needed in order to effectively know more than anyone else in the galaxy so she could do what she needed better than anyone else. Such was his lot. Perpetual Padawan? So be it. All he wanted was one, single thing: to liberate Coruscant from the One Sith and see the Sith turned back to the Light. He was no [member="Ordo"], no [member="Kiskla Grayson"], or even a [member="Darth Isolda"]. He wasn't all-powerful. There were Slicers such as @Cyrax Bane that made him almost seem weak in his skills. But he didn't care. All He wanted was for the galaxy he lived in to stabilize. The Order was fractured, and even is Kiskla wouldn't acknowledge it, they all knew it. And so he did was he needed to do to play his part.

"I hope this is the right call, Master Kiskla. Force knows what sort of trouble we might get into today..."


[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Johnny was privy to many things that most in The Order weren't -- such were the perks of being the Grandmaster's Padawan. After all, there had to be something that made up for all the perceived neglect with her busy schedule and accommodating what [member="Johnny Diamonds"] could, and could not be a part of. After their discussion on Ossus, however, and Johnny's self-absorbed attitude that had been on his shoulders for more than a few missions, Kiskla decided that introducing him into the ring of allegiances and politics couldn't hurt. After all, even if he did speak out of turn, that would be a lesson in itself with how widespread the ripple of repercussions could spread.

Footsteps drew the pair of students through the eerie, and fortified world of lost souls. Despite Ruusan being a Jedi World, the Valley of Jedi had a significant dark taint to it. Before coming here, they had opened the Noetikon of Secrets -- information about the darkside and how harmfully tainted thinking with your heart could become. Kiskla rarely did any thinking on that line, she'd always been both blessed and cursed with a distant view of emotion and preferred to avoid that humane realm altogether. While she wasn't as logical as her other half, she wasn't someone who reacted purely out of gut feeling and stirrings of the soul. A trait that had advanced her to be the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order by the age of Twenty-One. A remarkable feat most assuredly. Her ability to think beyond herself was something that she wanted to teach Johnny, and inviting him to a political meeting seemed the best way to show him the holistic overview.

"Not as much trouble as has occurred here," Kiskla assured him, gesturing to the carvings of faces within the wall. "How do you feel right now?" The question was ambiguous to leave for many answers. The valley had its own radiance that could be affecting Diamonds, perhaps the future events would have their toll. Only his answer would give the correct insight.

 

[Azrael]

Ruusan

South of Fort Nowhere

There were a great many things in the over-arcing umbrella of responsibility that Azrael had not accounted for when he rose to the leading position of the Mando'ade. Facets of the position that had been a mystery to him were just now barely coming to light - and far more than he realized would draw from those pools to make the position stand out from what it seemed to be on the surface. You never truly understood the gravity of a situation unless you were in it. Historical records, holo-recordings - feth, even full blown recounted tales straight from the taun taun's mouth couldn't gift you the full scope of understanding. No -- you had to live it, breathe it, and drink it in to grasp what it was to actually be in the moment, and take on the task of filling another's shoes. In Azrael's case, the half-blood was attempting to fill the large and weighty besk'ar clad boots of his deceased Buir and A'lor - but at least he had the backing of the vode, and it meant the world to him. Mystery or not, one thing the Mandalorian certainly had counted on was faction relations - or more specifically political talks. He'd already had a hand in it before assuming this responsibility, but now it would be even more of a requested notion. It happened to every Mand'alor before him, and would do the same in every one after without a second doubt. Of his skills in leadership, this was probably one of the more crafted areas in his arsenal. In hindsight, he'd been groomed by Gilamar to fulfill this position - it just happened to take so suddenly that he was still reeling from those events.

Clouds pushed by, tearing apart at unseen seams as the craft of jet black tore through the atmosphere of Russan. A world in which rested rich and often traumatic historical events that were more akin to those wielding the Force than himself. The Mandalorians had their own glorious tales of accounts with the Jedi - and most of them pitted the two factions in heavy wars. A different time, and under different leadership the then Sith Empire had formed a relationship with the Mandalorians, offering them the glory of war in striking at the heart of the Republic. A blow, which by no means lay forgotten, was also one of the old tales of a time long ago. Would this Grand Master prove to be more of a history buff and see him as a potential threat, or would they cease to harbor pre-conceived notions until they met the metal and the man behind it? One of many questions Azrael contemplated while his hands gripped the yoke. Below, a settlement came into view - sharing the design of a six stemmed star, that laid out the foundation and perimeter of an old fort that happened to be fitted with a fairly sizable military presence. This wasn't the place, though he'd of felt far more comfortable being in a military compound than a temple of the Jedi for certain. The stealth fighter zipped passed without detection, banking south from the Fort's location to follow the beacon and transponder coordinates to the rendezvous.

A few months ago he'd not of had a lot to say in relation to the Jedi Order. What he did know of it was sparse at best, but as of recent events he'd learned more about the character of their Order, and uncovered some very fascinating aspects of how the culture of his people could benefit or possibly intermingle with that of the faction. The Republic aside, it was the Jedi that was calling him here, not so much the Republic at large. Despite their eminent tie in, and the trust they were still affording the Jedi (after losing their home planet to the Sith), he wasn't here to broker any deals with the Republic directly. While he knew bits and pieces of the Republic's hierarchy; he understood that in the recent inauguration that they had been requested as an allied force with that of the faction. This relationship however was not a mirror image to that of the Jedi proper. There were still many Mandalorians that had a difficult time in trying to manage their tempers against Force users of any caliber - even the Witches of Dathomir were something of a sore sport in their memory. A boon however to this Grand Master was the Mand'alor she was about to encounter - for as much as she did not know him, and the same could be said of his knowledge of her; he had a special relationship with the Jedi. One that not even Kiskla was likely aware of.

The Ca'prudii arched itself into a half knife-blade maneuver between two rising canyon walls that formed into a bend matching the river's course of this lush and green world. An almost entirely jade green topography covered the planet allowing it to radiate it's emerald color into the depths of space. A once wasted real estate for miles had flourished back to a living world. Whatever landmarks of old still existed, the only one of importance to Azrael was the point of origin for the beacon, and it was laying dead ahead. A minor temple outpost that had seen its share of wear and tear. Engines flared to life, bringing his speed down to something manageable of a landing, as he spotted a clearing a few clicks north of the temple's stone architecture. The tail end of his craft pivoted on the head's ability to stagnate and allow for a slow and smooth decent. Wind from the exhaust ports rustled the tree tops and other native flora in the practiced ease of a three point landing - exactly as his Ori'vod had taught him before he had taken point to the fringes of Wild Space. He was glad to have this favored ship repaired after his eight month excursion; as she had needed a lot of love when he returned. Engines wined down and the hyperdrive went into a standby phase before powering down altogether. Boots clipped the inner hull of the ship while his weapons cache was checked, and loaded onto the beskar'gam. He wasn't coming for war, but he was never far from confrontation in his line of work either. The buy'ce slid on and sealed to the suit while the E'tad Kal slid into the sheath at his back. Light spilled into the deck as inch after inch of the space between ramp and ship opened like a great maw and allowed Azrael to descend onto the planet's surface. He'd have a fair distance to cover before he'd actually reach the temple, but he preferred the walk to be uninterrupted so he could get his bearings.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"] | [member="Johnny Diamonds"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Valley of the Jedi​

Kiskla cast a wary glance back at her Padawan who had fallen uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps it was all the strange vibes radiating from the dark valley. Either way, she allowed him his silence and closed her own eyes, drawing in a heavy breath. The time she spent in these planets wasn't for her. The Order was moving, growing, taking it's own breaths and expanding. If she wanted to continue to provide it clean air to breathe, she needed to spread herself out once again -- beyond the confines of the areas that had been established as safe and sound. Step one was the introduction to an ancient nation -- who's roots were very parallel to Jedi's. She had requested some time ago, that the new Mand'alor be her guest. It had been a few days, and she allowed for travel time with understanding, but she was anticipating some sort of notification soon.

After more shared silence between herself and her student, Kiskla's striking white eyes flashed toward her Padawan. She could feel a small, minuscule prickle of darkness beyond the bowels of the valley. Before she spoke, she assessed the reaction of Diamonds and if there was any.

"Stay down here, with your visions, see if you can trace through the history of the happenings." She took a step forward and away from her student "I will meet you back at the temple."

Above, surrounding the Valley​

​

Around the perimeters of the valley, a wall of Jedi Guard Droids surrounded the main entrance from the jungle. Silently, without any physical cues, something within them stirred. A cue from a shadowy indicator that caused the lifeless stones to become alert.

[member="Azrael"]​

 

[Azrael]

Footfalls crushed the grass beneath his boots, leaving firm indentations of his pace and gait while the Mandalorian traveled through plains of grass and towards the rocky edges of a valley in the distance. A holographic rode over the upturned gauntlet of his right forearm, giving a clear indication of the paths necessary towards the temple on Russan. Personally he'd never had much dealings with ancient Sith or Jedi strongholds. The only formations of stone and earth he'd found interest in were the long forgotten temples and training posts of the Mandalorian culture. A society that relished in both the old and the new, in technology and physiology. It was often said that the Mandalorians could make do with or without the weapons they crafted, fight with their bare hands or charge the plains with advanced technology. Neither was preferred and neither was shunned - they were of all things adaptable to change, while still holding fast to traditions that carried their culture through the eons of time. Such a legacy not even the Jedi of old could boast about their Order - despite how impressive their longevity was. The rendezvous was noted up ahead, though he certainly was not sure what or whom to expect. He knew of the name, but barely anything else aside from the lofty and highly esteemed station that the woman held fast to. Kiskla Grayson was as much a mystery to the half breed as the was the temple he was approaching.

However, to say that the Mandalorian was caught off guard by the request, that would be a lie. He understood well before the mantle of Mand'alor fell upon him of what would be expected in that position. He would meet many leaders of many factions, and in one way or another they would present a case as to how they viewed the Mandalorian people, and what they sought from them, both either to gain or to give. While the concept wasn't new, the circumstances would be a whole other story. Of the Jedi he knew, few were as prominent or mysterious as the one he was destined to meet today. The closest woman to his heart was a padawan in the Order, while the wife of his Ori'vod was a Master of high calling that had at once sat on the council (or so he had been told). The Force was always told to him as being a mystery, and that was an apt description, as he had no knowledge of it, had not experienced any pull or tug from that metaphysical energy that apparently fated the very Galaxy itself. It was a wonder how he could be so close to something and never realize the truth of the matter. Still, he wasn't concerned about his lack of sensitivity, as it made Azrael more grounded in the realistic notions that he could touch and feel.

Several clicks from his landing site, Azrael's feet soon touched earthen soil, as his armored frame stepped into the valley proper and began to adjust his course from the holo-map in order to make good time towards the Temple proper. The canyon surrounding him was majestic and full of nothing but rocks and dirt. Walls on either side rose up casting their shadows upon the soil while he passed between the two natural edifices that lined his path as far as his visor could see. The thoughts running through his mind however were certainly not focused on dangers presented by the lining of stone warriors made of machine that would guard against he entrance to parties unsavory. His thoughts instead dwelt on the faction as a whole, and how he had become the defacto head of such a culture. While the Mandalorian were a fiercely independent people group, they were also loyal to the call of their sole ruler, and it rested on his shoulders to bear that burden. While he still felt that he was miles from worthy of the calling, the vode had seen fit to recognize his leadership and put their trust and invest their loyalty in him, and it was still a strange notion that he'd have to become accustomed to. In such a lost state of thought, the registration of movement didn't alert him to the warning signs of danger before the sight of the giant guardians of the temple came into view.

Pausing in his stride, the map was deactivated and his scans about the area swept back and forth to ascertain his location and understand what lay ahead. There were no formal instructions given for the meeting, but only that it would take place at the temple. Accustomed to various threats in his life thus far, Azrael took a small amount of consideration before his foot moved forward. That one movement though seemed to trigger a trap or trial as the massive edifices that were formed into the statues of warriors of old stirred. Rock and stone thundered as heavy feet slammed down on the canyon floor drawing their staves like weapons and keeping them pointed in costly fashion against the approaching Mandalorian whom they dwarfed in size. For a moment he didn't move, but merely kept his stance still watching them from meters away. A protective detail that was tasked with keeping the temple safe of unsavory visitors was easily determined - though the question remained, why was he on such a blacklist. Had he not been invited by the head of the Jedi Order? Perhaps it wasn't as amicable a visit as he was lead to be believe.

"Shabla." The Mandaorian cursed under his breath before he amplified his voice and took a daring broadcast of his location. "I am Azrael, Lord Mandalore of the United Clans. I have not come on threat or act of war, stand down before I change my mind." Though as he spoke, the BOAR.D slipped from his back and fell into his hands. He wasn't foolish enough to think that was going to go over well enough with the hulking statues. "You've got ten seconds before there is a lot less statue to these guards." He warned, raising the rail gun to his chest and setting the charge for a full burst, letting the countdown whine audibly as the statues continued their ponderous approach.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]