When you absolutely, positively, have to kill everything in the room...

[Julius Sedaire]

Dreadguard... It was what he was now, a part of him, that word... To most, it was a name fallen into recent myth, a phoenix flare that had faded into obscurity. But for him? The Forge Lord was hardly one prone to being overly sentimental, but after Fondor... After Mustafar.. He had rather harshly realized he alone was not enough to bear the weight of the knowledge now in his mind, the power within him brimming and threatening to overwhelm his intelligence. So he had spoken to @Rook... Been frank with the High Lord... Damaged goods was the phrase the Mandalorian had used with his brother.

Too many wars, and too many scars, for him to be able to step onto battlefield after battlefield like some heedless youth. Not to say he would shirk war, that was his calling. But his ability to help his brothers in the Legion lay less in his unparallelled ability with the blade, and more in his mind, which had become arguably one of the sharper ones in the Galaxy, if also one of the more volatile and unstable. And so, the idea was born that he would bend his will to refining the process that made the new iteration of their brothers and sisters. To crafting weapons that were more durable, powerful, and capable to wage the style of war the Dreadguard were meant for.

To that end, his ship had pulled into Mon Cal space, to the Headquarters of Firemane Industries. A datacron was in the satchel strung across his hip, and oddly enough he wore clothes that were millenia out of date for the Galaxy, a simple toga in white cream, clasped about the waist with a fine braided rope of golden silk. There was not a trace of armor on the man, and the only weapon was an ancient sword at his hip he had drug from the Netherworld. His very size, and the aura of physical violence and danger he gave off, should be enough to deter most threats. Absently, he scratched at one of the neuro-ports for his armor that dotted his skin like black pock-marks, waiting for instructions on where to go.

In a satchel slung across his chest rested several datapads, flimsi note-books, and a singular datacron with some revolutionary ideas he had gleaned from the Architects and their Gatekeeper, a being who hosted virtually the sum-total of the ancient synthetics knowledge and more. That was what he was here to discuss... Quite taken with the Firemane Boltgun, he was here to discuss a secondary design, of a sort... One different, amped up by the technology of the Architects and his own thoughts, to make it a whole 'nother ballgame when it came to close-range assault weaponry.

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Tegaea Alcori"]

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Tegaea Alcori"], [member="Valiens Nantaris"]


It did not take long for Ijaat's ship to be noticed and for it to receive a transmission from the Firemane Tower. Presumably the minions there had been made aware of his impending arrival, which would enable this one to skip a somewhat redundant 'give identification code X' scene.


"Mr. Akun, you are cleared for landing. Please proceed to docking bay 21." one of the many minions transmitted to him after having received confirmation. In case he had difficulty finding the aforementioned bay, coordinates were also being provided.


Waiting for Ijaat would be a black-haired female Eldorai, wearing formal business gear. Her name was Maerys Medea and she served as Siobhan's PA. One of her qualifications for this role was the fact that she was a good deal more open-minded and progressive than many of her people, which made interaction with foreigners far easier. Ranting about your presumed racial superiority, which in any case had been shattered by the cataclysmic destruction of Kaeshana, seldom went well in such situations. Aside from her, there was a small escort led by Sergeant Freya Solveig, who headed security here. The amazonian looking soldier fittingly had a bolt pistol on her hip.


Once Ijaat had presumably landed and left the ship, Maerys would address him and extend her hand. Her tone was clipped, but polite and her Basic without a trace of accent. "Mr. Akun, welcome to Firemane Industries. I hope your flight was pleasant. I am Maerys Medea, Personal Assistant to Lady Kerrigan. Please follow me, Lady Kerrigan and Lady Alcori are expecting you in the conference room. You will have privacy to discuss business there."

 

[Tegaea Alcori]

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]

As one would expect, the conference room for a Tier V company was suitably baroque enough to show their power and influence yet practical enough not to be too cluttered.

The table in the room was slightly unusual. At one end, with their back to the endless waters of Mon Calamari, were two large seats where the Directors sat. Before them and curving in a U shape around them was seating for many other guests.

When Ijaat was led in by Maerys Tegaea rose and offered her hand.
“Welcome, Mr Akun, I am Tegaea; co-Director. I have heard a lot about you. This is my wife, Siobhan Kerrigan. Please take a seat and we’ll get started.”