Duel Wrath of Iron

[Domina Prime]

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

Ko Vuto | Braze ​

The ramp hissed open, smoke curling at her boots as she descended with the long shadow of a blade. Behind her, Conscripts of House Prime marched in lockstep, their armor catching the glow of the dying sun as they poured into the foreign outpost.

The place reeked of credits. Of ill-gotten spoils and gaudy indulgence. Pirates, mercenaries, and cutthroats lounged in debauchery, their wealth hung from rafters in trinkets and tapestries, their walls bleeding with the glow of neon. In many ways they resembled her Mandalorian Kith & Kin: killers, raiders, wolves of the void.

But where Dima knelt to the Destroyer God, these mongrels bent to credits and coin.

The difference was everything.

Domina straightened her military cap with a sigh as curses, laughter, and the clamor of greed filled the air. Then came the first breach. Blaster fire tearing the silence apart, followed by screams and the thunder of Prime's assault.

They fell quickly. Too quickly. Thugs with guns could never stand against warriors born to scripture.

Domina stood unmoved, lower claws folded neatly behind her back, upper arms cradling a heavy book of dark iron binding against her chestplate. The fortress erupted in fire, glass shattering into glittering rain, bodies collapsing in heaps. She did not flinch. "To the victor, the spoils," she spoke into the comms, voice smooth, commanding. "Bring their lord forth~ The riches are your reward."

A pause, the sound of grenades cracking in the distance.

"And remember- Spare only the worthy. New converts for the cause."

Her five eyes tracked the battlefield with cold patience as the sun dipped lower, painting the carnage in blood-red hues. Survivors were dragged in chains, lined up on their knees like offerings at her feet. At last, the pirate lord was hauled forward, beaten bloody, dropped before Domina as she loomed above him.

"W-why? We ain't never crossed the Mandos!" he barked, coughing blood. "We didn't do nothin' to deserve this!"

Domina crouched, a shadow wrapping over him, and placed a single claw upon his trembling lips.

"Be still, little rabbit~" she purred, claws trailing through his matted hair with a mockery of tenderness. "It's not personal... you've merely stumbled across something I've had my eye on for quite some time. And I would very much like it back."

Confusion cracked his bruised face. "W-what? We've hit Jedi vaults, Alliance posts, I don't understand!"

Domina's claws flicked open the book, pages whispering until she revealed an illustration: a small sphere, etched with runes that pulsed faintly with the weight of prophecy.

His eyes widened. His shoulders sank. He knew.

"The Starmap," Domina chittered, voice deep, resonant. "A treasure not meant for dogs. God's gifts are His children's alone."

She rose to her full height, eclipsing him in shadow. "Tell me its location, and you may limp back to your uhhh...heh. Lucrative business." Her gaze swept the ransacked outpost with disdain, every stolen bauble and shattered bottle another mark of their unworthiness.

"And my men?" he rasped, hope flickering.

Domina tilted her head, eyeing the kneeling prisoners. Slowly, she exhaled, the sound almost amused.

"They are not yours anymore."

Her voice sharpened like a dagger.

"They are Prime's. Ha'rangir's will demands blood, but it also demands the strong. Conscripts, converts...tributes to The Cause."

The grin behind her mask was audible in her tone as the pirate's face broke in horror. She reached out one of her arms and opened her clawed hands as if offering it for the poor man to take the deal.

"Worry not for your men. By the time i'm finished with them. You'll all thank me for making them BETTER...now then. The Map, if you would be so kind~"

 

[Ko Vuto]

Tag(s): Domina Prime | Avarice

As control of The Core began to collapse, the chaos allowed pirates and marauders to flourish within the relative security of the galactic core. Without their temple on coruscant to guard and others not being deemed as important Ko once more saw himself in the role of a Jedi investigator. Tasked to infiltrate organizations, sabotage them, gather evidence, and have them brought to justice. An often difficult task for the principled Kel Dor.

That was until a certain xeno warlord threw a proverbial wrench into his plans. Now he found himself amongst the rest of the crew. Chained with the others attached to his one arm. Now he had a predicament. Let the pirates here become part of Domina’s own machinations, or see them possibly escape both Domina and himself.

“Enough of this!" He shouted from his restraints. Ko didn’t look like himself. Instead he had over him the holographic disguise of some blonde human male with a breath mask over his face. With a sudden flick of his wrist Ko broke the chains that bound him to the others and stepped forwards as his holographic disguise flickered and glitched before finally deactivating. Now revealing the Kel Dor, clad in a simple yet form fitting Jedi jumpsuit. Domina would recognize that Ko wasn’t whole however, he was missing one of his appendages.

“These men here were meant to face justice for their crimes. But I can’t allow them to become pawns in your vial schemes Lady Domina!” Ko accused as he raised his arm and pointed at her with a clawed finger. It was bold to reveal himself. Even reckless. But he and his allies have been suffering some major defeats and his patience has been wearing thin on sustaining any more blows to his morale.​

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[Domina Prime]

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ᛖᚳ ᚠᛁᛚ ᛋᚣᚾᚪ ᚦᛖᚱ ᛖᛁᛏ ᚠᚪᚷᚱᛏ

Ko Vuto​

Domina's ears pricked when a sharp voice cut through the murmur of chains and curses. She blinked, then blinked again because the man's face had just…changed. The projection stuttered, shimmered, and peeled away like cheap holo-lace to reveal a Kel Dor, chin lifted with that infuriatingly righteous tilt she'd known for years.

She clapped once! Sharp and delighted, then practically bounced on her talons. "Oh my gods! GUYS! GUYS! LOOK WHO IT IS!" she trilled, putting all the theatrical astonishment of a tabloid queen into the one sentence. The conscripts glanced at one another, bewildered, until she thumped her massive axe into the deck for emphasis. "You don't know it, boys, but this is the guy!"

Domina swept forward in one absurdly affectionate motion, snapping her claws like a stage director. "Well? Don't just stand there—lift him up!" she barked at one of her men, voice equal parts command and giddy apology. Then, like a gigantic, oddly maternal aunt, she fussed over Ko as the shackles clattered away: brushing dust from his shoulders, patting collars into place with four hands at once, smoothing his robes as if he were a prize she'd just gathered from market.

"Aw, you look dreadful," she cooed, leaning in until her mask nearly grazed his brow. "The galaxy's been cruel to you—and you're deliciously dramatic, as always." She fussed some more because she simply couldn't help it.

Then his words — "vile schemes," "justice" — sailed out and hit her like a soggy net. Domina froze for a beat, eyes rolling so far behind her visor it might've qualified as a threat. "Vile?" she echoed, loud enough for the kneeling rogues to flinch. She tapped the book at her chest with a claw. "My justice is very efficient. It eats the greedy, spits out recruits, and sings nicely at dinner. Same job as your temples, really—different uniforms."

She was in the middle of scoffing and preening him because fussing was her diplomacy. When a detail snagged like a splinter in her brain: the missing arm. Her hand went from smoothing to stunned mid-air. For a glorious second she simply gasped, all the theatrical affection vacuumed out of her.

Then she did what any properly dramatic warwitch would do: she paled, and it turned into outrage. "WHAT? WHO DID THIS?!" she shrieked, snapping her claws at the empty sleeve like it had personal meaning. She began poking and prodding the stump as if it might explain itself. "How—how are we supposed to duel when you're like this?!" Her voice climbed into a ridiculous, scandalized wail. "Gods DAMMIT! I can't have NOTHIN!"

She stamped one taloned foot and then, in the very next heartbeat, was fluttering back into caretaking mode—mock scandal dissolving into theatrical fuss. "Alright, alright, hold still. This is unacceptable and adorable," she pouted, fussing at him some more with all four hands, equal parts threat and bedside manner. "If you intend to keep playing champion, I insist you pick up a spare. We can't have you robbing my duels of drama. So behave yourself, and no fighting until your WHOLE again, yes?"

Domina's grin returned, wide and unbearable.

 

[Ko Vuto]

Tag: Domina Prime

Dima’s reaction was not quite what he had expected. Treating his sudden arrival like he was some sort of surprise gift. Ko’s stiff and proud composure rapidly lost much of its rigidity as his arm bent at the elbow and his shoulders slumped some.

Watching a bitter rival of his begin patting him down and doting over him like some sort of affectionate relative left the witful Kel Dor quite speechless. Blinking some from behind his goggles and the pigmentation around his mask growing redder in hue even as she began to counter his previous remark.

Partly responsible for his stunned state was likely the fact that Dima has probably been the only person thrilled and happy to see him for a good while. He knew too that it was genuine, ulterior motives and being two faced wasn’t really in her nature given his previous interactions. So it felt… good. In a strange way.

But he was snapped out of the haze of Dima’s affection when she noticed his arm, or lack thereof. Now it felt much more like she was talking down to him like some helpless kitten with a broken paw. Ko clenched his single fist and frowned deep enough that it could be ‘seen’ even with his mask on.

After she told him to “pick up a spare” he snapped his single hand up and slapped away one of her four claws as she patted him down more. “Cease your mockery, you know damn well that I’m far from defanged, not some helpless and pitiful pup.” The Kel Dor remarked definitely. Glaring up at the larger woman Ko shot his hand up and grabbed her by the collar to pull her closer. Their respective masks nearly make contact in a keldabe kiss.

“Even missing my arm I can take you. Don't tell me you're scared and using it as an excuse…” He taunted, which was rather unlike himself. As insults and Dun Moch weren't really in his nature as a Jedi. He’d been through a lot lately and his connection to The Force has been slipping some. As well as having a shorter temper. Although he’d never been very patient with Dima before. Always treating her and the threat she posed with the gravity it deserved. Ever sense they first met.​

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