Junction Where It All Will End | ME & THR Junction of Ewdenen and Thyferra

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Mia Monroe | Quinn Varanin | Dominique Vexx | Open
Wearing: [X]

Surprised was only a mild understatement. Monroe had struck her as someone that lived and breathed in her beskar’gam. Another thing the Warmaster had in common with her father—the man had always been more comfortable in his everyday uniform than his dress uniform. In the time she’d spent with her parents recovering and later when she continued her liaison agent duties, he’d complained bitterly about attending official events and the fuss they required.

“Nice dress.”

The comment caught her off-guard. It was said politely, nicely even. And Adelle couldn’t detect any hint of sarcasm or deception in Mia’s presence. Just when she thought she had the Warmaster figured out, she had to go and throw a curveball at her. Adelle took a slow slip of the whiskey, carefully keeping her discomfort hidden.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, deciding to trust that the Warmaster was being genuine.

Adelle inclined her head towards Quinn when Monroe greeted the young sovereign. “Your Majesty.”

Quinn was in an unenviable position. She’d seen the tightness in the Queen’s face when increased security had been ordered, the slight resignation behind the eyes soon after. But the security was necessary and Quinn had to know it. Especially at an event like this. Poor experiences had a bad habit of reminding one of how wrong things could go.

Adelle surveyed the room, noting the faces she recognized. Merryn Sellek , newlywed COO of Aurora Industries, and Aurelian Veruna , King of Naboo, with a third ( Makai Dashiell ) that approached the COO with familiarity. Senator Cynan Obaith and Chancellor Dominique Vexx making the rounds in the crowd. Warden Siv Kryze stood off to one side in the formal beskar’gam. Adelle made a note to try and keep some distance between Kryze and Quinn, for the young woman’s sake.

She’d been about to respond to Mia’s question when Chancellor Vexx walked up to Quinn, greeting her with a glance in the Mandalorians’ direction. Adelle raised her eyebrows briefly even as the Chancellor continued on without so much as a pause for the clarifying question to be answered.

Adelle pitched her voice low, trying to answer Monroe without disturbing the conversation between Quinn and the Chancellor.

“To answer your question, if you speak with a Corellian accent, they just hand you one,” she quipped. Then she pointed across the room. “But there’s a small bar over there where they’re pouring.”

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

Objective 1

Aselia Verd | Adonis Angelis IV | Camille Cendre | Shokoh al Khayyat | Riya Pashen | Zoro Igala | Ronhar Tane | Marlon Sularen | Itzhal Volkihar



Draal Kar'ta stood on the bridge of his ship. And by his ship he did not mean it was his to command but his personally. His Clan had tailored their forces for terrestrial combat and control with naval assets only sufficient to secure their home sector leaving little for power projection. Something he was certain to raise at the next clan meeting. As he held no formal imperial position his official power stemmed from positions as Clan Elder and planetary executive which was not applicable to this situation as it was out of his jurisdiction. Therefore, the ships he led were his private property and the men crewing them his personal retainers. It was a small force, a single Crusader Class corvette, two Kom'rk fighter/transports and a half dozen Kimogla heavy fighters with the ability to put just over fifty light infantry on the ground. He did not know if he was entering a skirmish or a full-blown battle but whatever the fight that was ahead of them this day did not matter. His Mand'alor had called for support of their allies and Draal-Kar'ta had answered.

'Approaching the objective Ner'Alor. We will be dropping out of light speed soon.' The voice of his lieutenant intruded into his thoughts. Draal-Kar'ta simply nodded in acknowledgement remaining silent until the shutter if the ship leaving hyper space brought him to action. As the deep thuds of his accompanying ships announced they too had entered the system, he moved to look out the windows.

"Scan and report. What are we facing." His voice decisively ordered.

After a few moments the lieutenant was back. 'Scanners have detected the presence of an Agitator class heavy battlecruiser at the edge of the system. There is a high probability that it will be accompanied by escorts and fighters but the system is too cluttered to get a clear reading at this time. What appears to be a Republic relief fleet is here.' He threw up a map of the area on the tactical screen as he continued.' Combat capability is unconfirmed but there is at least two venator class cruisers in the formation. A republic squadron of two Dreadnaught class cruisers with six Fluger class frigates and accompanying gunboats are deploying here. The Ferrix Fleet is just arriving and the MIV First Blood is here and deploying atmospherics for a ground action."

He turned to look at the Lieutenant. "The First Blood is here? Perhaps you should have started with that." Then more loudly. "We have brought a vibroblade to a blaster fight. But a blade well executed can end many a fight. Take up position to support the First Blood and cover their assault and be ready to enter the atmosphere to deploy our troops. We will wait until the battle lines are formed then deploy in a flank."

His troops were highly trained but too lightly equipped to stand in the line of battle against tanks and walkers. They were adept in close quarters combat and were most advantageously used to clear structures or in boarding actions.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

​

Sitting aboard one of the crafts headed toward the surface of the asteroid, Adonis watched below as the forces clashed. The Imperials were fighting back- good. It meant his men were going to have some fun today. He had opted to land with them rather than ride in on his Basilisk. This was personal; he wanted to watch the remnants of the Imperials crumble beneath his own boots. They were putting up a hell of a fight though, and some of the Republic forces were already being overwhelmed.

Adonis turned to the men and women who had chosen to ride into battle with him, who had chosen to follow him into what could very well be their deaths. Even with his helmet on, they could sense the look of pride on his face. As he stood there, the craft moved in closer to the battle, occasionally shifting to avoid incoming fire. Nothing Mandalorian warriors weren't used to. He drew in a breath before addressing the group.

"They call this a purge." His voice was met with a few eager responses from those more bloodthirsty among them. "They think we are here to clean up someone else's war." He smacked his fist against his breastplate in a single, heavy thud. The other Mandalorians followed suit. "They're wrong. The moment we are boots down on that asteroid, it becomes our war." He was met with more cheering, the sound of armor ringing through the hold as he grunted and struck his chest again.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum."The words reverberated through the craft as it pushed even closer to the battlefield, Adonis and the others' helmets lighting up with distress pings while the ship began actively engaging enemy targets. "We live! And if we fall, we live on! That is what makes us Mandalorians!" The hold came alive with energy as Adonis raised his crushgaunt in a clenched fist. The craft dropped lower still, now within the gravity pull that held the rest of the combatants to the asteroid's surface.

"Let's show them whose war it is." He took his raised and slammed it against the emergency release. The hatch blew open- there was no rush of wind, no howl- just the silent void and the distant glow of fire and blasterlight. He took a breath and leapt, driving himself outward and down, gaining momentum before flipping so he fell headfirst toward the battlefield. His jetpack thrusters flared in controlled bursts, accelerating his descent and guiding his approach as he locked onto the distress signal below.

The impact wasn't what it would have been on a world with a full atmosphere, but it was still loud and violent, dust and debris kicking outward in a sharp burst. It was enough to disrupt the flow of battle for a moment. As the dust settled, the silhouette of Adonis Angelis emerged, the golden star on his chest catching the light of blaster fire that swallowed the area. In his hand rested his lightsaber, the blue blade cutting cleanly through the smoke as the tanks in front of him reacted.

Behind him, Mandalorians began landing in staggered drops, blaster fire already blasting as they spread out, their shots forcing the Imperial line to split its focus. Over the comms, he caught fragments of chatter, Camille Cendre and her artillery were moving to flank.

He turned his HUD toward Riya Pashen 's tank to make sure it was operable. "We received your distress call." His hand reached forward toward the nearest Imperial machine, the turrets jerking upward as if seized by an invisible grip, forced off target before it could fire again. "Mandalore has answered."

His words were punctuated by motion as he launched himself forward, jetpack flaring, lightsaber angled down to drive straight into the tank's core. Behind Adonis, Mandalorian fire rained across the field, covering the Republic armor as they repositioned or pressed the advantage. Adonis didn't slow, he was already in the kill, ready to tear the heart from the Confederation.

TAG: Perseus Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr + OPEN​

 

[Merryn Sellek]

Dress for the Occasion, Taliesin Datapad
Aurora Industries Catalog

Nearby: Quinn Varanin Dominique Vexx Adelle Bastiel Mia Monroe Myra Arceneau Dashiell Cynan Obaith Seris Mataan Siv Kryze
Interacting with: Aurelian Veruna Makai Dashiell
​

Coronet City

She had just turned away from another greeting to meet the approaching royal, offering him a gracious smile and return bow. "Thank you, your Majesty, for both your congratulations and your kind words about the wedding." She assumed the congratulations were for the contract Aurora had won for the Rosaria, but it could also just be a double meaning towards her wedding. "Ivalyn is around here somewhere, although we got separated upon arrival. I believe she is hoping to further the Commonwealth and High Republic's ties, but you'll have to discuss those with her if you desire. I'm here merely as the representative from Aurora Industries today."

Naboo wasn't currently on the company's radar for investment, but that could quickly change as she had not expected to be in a conversation with its King. Already, the calculations and potential were spinning in her mind, and they were only reinforced as Makai joined their little group. Aina Holdings and the Dashiell business empire in general had long been friendly with Aurora and her Lady, and she sensed that friendship would only be strengthened tonight if Makai had his way.

"Mister Dashiell, it's been far too long," she responded, once again politely smiling in greeting. "And no need to apologize, the King and I had only just started talking. You both look like you needed something of an escape. Is your wife among the attendees, Makai?"

 

[Ala Quin]

BEFORE
She could not stay at the lake house. She could not bear to look at the handiwork she and Lorn had poured into making the place a home. He had told her she could use it, that he wouldn't be back. But it was just a shell now, a box of memories stripped of its soul.

The droids had packed her belongings, though they had done a careless job of it. The very first crate she unsealed in the foreign environment of her new Theed apartment contained something that was decidedly not hers.

Ala dropped the deep green tunic almost the moment she registered the gold trim. It belonged to Lorn. Despite being cleaned and pressed, it somehow still carried his scent. She retreated from the discarded garment, taking a few tear-blinded steps back.

She was on her third glass of "recovery" wine when a voice shattered the stagnant quiet. The tumbler slipped from her hand, white wine splashing across the floor as she bolted to her feet.

"Allyson? What in Force-sake are you doing here?" Ala demanded, her eyes immediately darting around the room to locate her lightsabers.

The trip had been quiet, carrying a weight that felt altogether foreboding. Ala had spent the majority of the journey trying to get a read on Allyson, specifically, her motives for agreeing to this mission. Despite the layer of uncertainty, she was grateful to have someone of the Corellian's caliber at her side. Even if the reports were to be believed, and Ala had brought along a potentially untrustworthy ally.

Ala's jaw clenched. She reached out through the currents again, trying to wrap her understanding around Allyson and her intentions. Again, she met nothing but a blur of the obscure and ill-defined. Fate itself had been erased where Allyson was concerned. For a Grandmaster so reliant on intuition, navigating this absolute void did not sit well.

"No. We will not be needing any help from our Mandalorian friends," Ala murmured, her tone level despite the smirk thrown her way. She had already explained this. Allyson was merely testing the edges of her cover story.

Their shuttle was completely unregistered, its beacon replaced with a replicator that could mimic the transponder of multiple ships of the same make. Ala had been forced to call in a few private favours from the Shadows within the Order to pull this off. Hopefully, the risk would be worth it.

"We are looking for a small asteroid base...a laboratory."

Outside the viewport, the asteroids drifted with a chaotic disregard for order or pattern. But the rocks, thanks to the Force, were predictable. Trusting her foresight, Ala deftly guided the sluggish Jedi shuttle through the hazards of the belt. At least one variable could be controlled for.

| Allyson Locke |​

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Objetive 1
Tags: OPEN
Equipment: X​

Prisoner looked around the sea of veterans, a lone figure in rusted, mismatched plate near the back of the hangar. The borrowed armor felt heavy and smelled of old grease, a far cry from the true beskar'gam he intended to earn through blood. While the seasoned warriors looked like a unified wall of steel, he looked like a relic of a forgotten war. He didn't care. Adrenaline spiked as he listened to the Mand'alor's decree. The Imperials had taken everything from him, and now he was being given the tools to take it back.

The roar of the crowd drowned out his own breathing as he slammed a fist against his chest. This was the start of a debt being paid in full. Moving with a grim focus, he climbed onto the back of a waiting Basilisk war droid. The machine hummed with predatory intent beneath him. Sealing his helmet, the HUD flickered to life, bathing his vision in a sharp tactical red. He gripped the controls tight as the beast lurched forward, following the shadow of the Mand'alor into the vacuum of space.

Vacuum silence was immediately replaced by the chaotic chatter of the battle comms. His strike force surged toward the Kolene mining spaceport, weaving through a debris field of shattered rock and frozen vapor. A squadron of Imperial starfighters screamed across the horizon, seeking to intercept the Mandalorian drop. Prisoner didn't flinch. He nudged the Basilisk's steering, diving into the heart of the Imperial formation.

Twin laser cannons on the droid's nose pulsed, shredding the solar wing of a passing fighter. The TIE spiraled into a tumbling asteroid, blooming into a brief, silent fireball. Another pilot tried to lock onto his rear, but Prisoner yanked the controls, sending the Basilisk into a violent, spinning roll. The mechanical claws of the war beast lashed out as they passed, catching the cockpit of a second TIE and tearing the transparisteel like paper.

Hatred fueled his maneuvers. He was hunting. Every jolt of the droid's engines felt like a heartbeat in sync with his own. He ignored the Republic cruisers in the distance, focusing entirely on the Imperial signatures cluttering his sensor array. A third Interceptor attempted a head-on pass. Prisoner held his fire until the last possible second, then unleashed a torrent of fire that vaporized the enemy pilot instantly. The path to the spaceport was clearing, and the scent of vengeance was thick.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Objective: 2

Sylor

Iandre listened without interrupting, her attention remaining fully on him even as the activity of the relief effort continued all around them. Workers crossed between transports carrying equipment and medical supplies while distant engines rattled the temporary structures with every descent, yet none of it seemed to pull her focus away from the conversation in front of her.

A faint understanding touched her expression at his answer, subtle but unmistakable. "Yes," she said softly. "It does seem simple when reduced to its most honest form."

Her gaze shifted briefly toward the crates still waiting near the ramp before returning to him.

"People are hungry. People are injured. Therefore, the supplies must move."

There was no mockery in the simplification, only quiet agreement.

The Force brushed gently through the space around them as another strained support cable nearby steadied just enough for workers to secure it properly. Iandre's attention never visibly shifted toward it.

"Most worthwhile things are often built from very simple decisions repeated consistently," she continued. "The difficulty is rarely understanding what needs to be done. It is continuing to do it after exhaustion, grief, or fear begin convincing people to stop."

At his quieter admission, something in her expression softened further. Not pity. Recognition.

"I do not doubt that," she replied gently.

For a brief moment, her eyes lingered on the beskar armor, its worn edges, and the accumulated marks left by years of use. Like most things forged for war, it carried history whether its owner intended it to or not.

"Though I have found that people who survive worse things often become very skilled at convincing themselves they no longer have limits."

The words were calm and observational rather than corrective.

A pair of medics hurried past carrying portable bacta equipment, forcing Iandre to step slightly aside to clear their path before she settled once more beside him.

"For what it is worth," she added after a moment, quieter now beneath the surrounding noise, "I was not questioning whether you could carry the weight."

A faint pause followed.

"Only whether you should have to carry all of it alone."

 

[Seris Mataan]

Seris's gaze moved across the room, taking in the grandeur and the multitude of important individuals filling the space around her. That wasn't to say she was impressed by it; compared to Odessen, it was extravagance in the extreme. As she scanned the room, intention touched her senses; as a pair of eyes fell on her, that alone was not abnormal in a room like this, but these lingered; it was intentional. That was enough to cause her eyes to turn toward Quinn.

At first glance, Seris's eyes were grey, but when the light hit them just right, there was a faint hint of green shining through the grey. She inclined her head slightly as if weighing the gaze of the other woman. From her dress, she was clearly somebody important, though Seris didn't know her name. Like many others here, she wore a mask. She wore it well, but there was a coiled tension beneath it. She returned the look with a faint, measured smile, offering just a touch of warmth.

She held the moment only a heartbeat longer before letting it go, turning back to the room. A passing tray crossed her path, and she took a glass from it in stride. She brought the glass up to her lips, taking a gentle sip, but she did not turn back toward Quinn.

TAG: Quinn Varanin
Audience Tag: Adelle Bastiel Mia Monroe
​

​

 

[Sylor]

Objective- 2
Iandre Athlea
​

I set the crate down beside the others with a heavy metallic thud before turning fully toward her. The vocoder in my helmet crackled softly as I spoke, flattening whatever edge might have otherwise carried through my voice.

"There are hundreds of people here doing exactly what I'm doing," I said. "Moving supplies, rebuilding. Keeping this place standing one more day." My visor lingered on the workers passing, medics, engineers, volunteers. "Some people act and help. Others stand back and question everything."

I looked back at her then, my posture steady beneath the armor.

"I know which one I am.", There was a short paused between. "Do you help, or do you question?"

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

​

Ivalyn had not, if she was being honest with herself, fully committed to the idea of attending.

The function had existed on the periphery of her attention for the better part of a fortnight noted, filed, not yet decided. It was Merryn's confirmation that she would be attending that had finally settled the question, though Ivalyn had been careful not to frame it that way. She had instead spent the better part of an evening making a thorough and well-reasoned case for why the household required another dog, and had only arrived at yes, she supposed she could attend the Corellian function as something of an afterthought. Merryn had not been fooled. Merryn was never fooled. Ivalyn had gotten the last word on the dog question regardless, which she considered a reasonable outcome.

She adjusted the sleeves of her gown with the particular precision she gave to things that needed to be right before she walked into a room, and returned her attention to the briefing material spread across the surface before her.

Senator Obaith's remarks had been, characteristically, more interesting for what they implied than what they stated directly. She had read them twice, annotating in the margins in the fine, unhurried hand she used when she was thinking rather than recording. Corellia's position within the Core had grown more complicated in recent months. Then there was the entire situation with Alderaan... And somewhere underneath the formal diplomatic language, the continued operations of a warlord whose name kept appearing in intelligence summaries with the casual persistence of someone who had decided they were a permanent feature of the landscape.

Ivalyn exhaled slowly. The Core had a particular talent for generating elegant problems.

She set the briefing aside and looked out at the approach, the familiar rhythm of pre-arrival settling into her shoulders. Not tension something more purposeful than that. Calibration. She did this before every room she entered, assembled the variables, noted the gaps, decided what she was there to accomplish and in what order.

Corellia first. The Commonwealth's support for the planet's position was genuine and worth communicating clearly not as sentiment, but as demonstrated interest. That required being seen, being present, being the kind of partner that showed up rather than merely sent correspondence.

The Mandalorians were a more interesting consideration. She had been watching certain movements with attention for some time. Trade with Mandalorian factions was not a simple proposition it required the right conversation, the right moment, the right read of whoever was in the room. She had opinions about who in that attendance list was worth approaching and in what order, and she intended to act on them.

And underneath both of those the longer work. The High Republic conversations were progressing. The architecture she was building required more than one pillar. The Commonwealth's position as the economic centre of Sith space was not a title she intended to hold passively. It was a project. It required continuous, careful construction relationships established here, routes secured there, the quiet accumulation of partnerships that existed entirely on their own merit, requiring no suzerain's approval to function.

Business today, then. Mostly.

Although if the evening allowed for any pleasure in the margins good conversation, something worth drinking, the particular satisfaction of a room well-navigated she was not opposed.

She straightened the final sleeve and decided she was ready.

Merryn Sellek [Mentioned]

​

 

[Mance Iblis]

Objective 1: System Purge
Location: Stationary Outside Socorro's Belt​

Mance sat on the command bridge of the 'Legacy of Madine', the flagship of the Five Brothers League. Around him bustled two dozen officers as they coordinated the small fleet under the League's control with the much larger forces of the Mandalorians and the High Republic respectively. It was a kind of controlled chaos, every individual knowing their function and carrying it out in the sea of officers and equipment. From his seat on the bridge Mance overlooked the vast traingular hull of the vessel, painted with the greens and golds of the League along with the banshee bird icon he had adopted for the League expertly painted along key points. Only remnants of the Alliance's iconography remained, parts of the hull darker than the rest due to once being painted blue.

"Officer Guyle-" he'd speak up as the communications officer would stride by, quickly coming to a halt as Mance addressed him "Double check our transponders are giving off High Republic codes. I don't want the Mandalorians getting any ideas when they see our silhouette"

The officer would nod, jogging away as Mance's eyes would once more return to the massive window-screens in front of him. Far in the distance, magnified slightly with the aid of the screens, was the form of a massive imperial battlecruiser. Where exactly it had come from was a mystery to him. He had been collaborating with the Corellian Defence Force to deal with Imperial remnants in the system; a few corvettes and maybe a few cruisers. To find this here implied assistance from outside the system, a fact that troubled him greatly. In fact, a swell of Imperial support had flooded into the system to match the High Republic's effort to oust them. Certainly they were dwarfed by the High Republic, especially with the aid of the Mandalorians. But such a sign of solidarity between the remnants of the Imperials was only a sign that they must be regrouping elsewhere; another troubling fact.

Slowly Mance would stand, striding over to the communication's hub. Guyle was of course busy double checking the transponders, but his aids eyed Mance nervously.

"Broadcast on all open channels. I want the Imperials to hear this." He would grunt, waiting for the petty officers to carry out his commands as he would take a deep calming breath.

"This is Admiral Mance Iblis of the Corellian Defence Force contacting all self-titled 'Imperials'. I give you one last chance to surrender yourselves and face judicial justice within Corellian courts. Refusal to power down all shields and weapons will be taken as an act of piracy and war, and punished in kind. I may not speak for the Republic, but I will personally see to it you are given a fair trial on Corellia."

Mance would pause, gesturing that he was finished as he moved back to sit in the captain's chair.

"Bring us to red alert, and advance towards the Belt. Start launching fighters and prepare to exchange blows with that Battleship. With Mandalorian support we should hopefully scare her off."

All the lights across the bridge dimmed a second later as an alarm would begin blairing across the ship. The controlled chaos from before only devolved farther as officers began shouting orders to the gunnery stations, engineering, and other key facilities on the ship to prepare the vessel for a proper fight. This would be their first large scale engagement, they were trained well... but if Mance hadn't had the support of the Mandalorians and High Republic he'd doubt he'd have ever picked this fight.

Regardless, the 'Legacy of Madine' along with its escort of two DP40 Heavy Gunships and four Sledgehammer Corvettes would begin moving to intercept Imperial forces at Kolene.

Aether Verd Zoro Igala Riya Pashen Shokoh al Khayyat Ronhar Tane Amelia von Sorenn Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Marlon Sularen

 

[Cynan Obaith]

​

Location: Corellia - Obaith Estate
Outfit: Purple Formal Attire
Tags: Dominique Vexx | Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel | Mia Monroe | Quinn Varanin | Merryn Sellek | Makai Dashiell | Ivalyn Yvarro | Myra Arceneau Dashiell | Seris Mataan | Siv Kryze | Ayumi Pallopides

Guests were flooding in, Cynan was grateful for such a wonderful turn out. Faces both familiar and new to him. His eyes scanned around and he spotted many that were going to be ones that he absolutely had to talk with. Though he was hoping to give all who attended some of his attention if he could. As host, it was important that everyone felt welcomed. It was why the bar was open, food was available and sections were available for dancing. Anything that took the mood of the guests, they should be pursued. Cynan also made sure that Sawel was keeping an eye on his sister, while Gwen was cunning enough to escape most, Sawel was likely to be her match in this. He was very skilled as a right hand.

Taking a sip of the Corellian whisky that he had become more accustomed towards over the time he spent on Corellia, Cynan knew that he needed to figure out where to begin his conversations and interactions with the guests. His eyes were scanning for certain faces that would be crucial for Cynan to meet with first.

His searching stopped when he spotted the chancellor, very thankful that she was able to attend. Cynan knew that he had to start there and cycle through the growing groups of people from there. Finishing his drink, Cynan made his way over to the chancellor and noticed that she was talking with a couple of Mandalorians and the queen of Eshan. "Greetings chancellor, I wanted to personally thank you for attending this event today. Hopefully a chance to show that Corellia and Denon could create some very prosperous ties, if yourself and senator Ayumi have the time at some point." Cynan mentioned, knowing that Dominique and Ayumi would have different connections and companies on Denon so might have differing priorities and desires.

His gaze turned towards the Mandalorians and the queen, "greetings to you, your majesty, an honour to have someone of such royalty in my own home. Greetings Warmaster Monroe and Ms Bastiel." Cynan gave each one a respectful bow, with a smile on his lips as he greeted them as well. "I hope you find the refreshments and food pleasing, all locally sourced. I am looking forward to furthering the friendships between the Mandalorians and those of us within the High Republic."

 

[Ayumi Pallopides]

Cynan Obaith Dominique Vexx

The small walks from the gardens to the estate had been something. Arrive early enough to play tourists and then roam around during the party. It helped and she was able to see some of the mandalorians. SHe was glad for it, better them around and most seemed happy which was a step up compared to some she had encountered before who sought any reason for a fight. Then she heard her name and looked over as Cynan was toasting and Dominique was well the chancellor and always gorgeous. Talk of deals perked her ears up though and Denon was always looking to increase what it produced now hat its initiatives were being worked on and improved upon. She would have to make the rounds and see while walking by and offering a bow in thanks for hosting them. At least the man seemed to be recovered after all of his ordeals.