Mandalore, Mandalore Sector
4 ARS - The Orbital

---

Kilometers of metal and glass spread out to either side of the domed observation deck, a ring of durasteel around a world many had thought to be incapable of reaching such industrialization. It had taken twenty years of effort, the dedication of a people and a leader beyond most to accomplish it, but it had been done. The drive yards were complete. The last section had been fitted just hours ago, pressure seals made and the gantries already working their first keel. Such had been the decree of their Mand'alor, and so it had been done. This was their way. Within the dome were the clan leaders, having come from across all of the Mandalorian Republic and even beyond to witness this crowning achievement. Each had their own ideas of what this meant for Mandalore, what this would mean for their clan, but each gave credit where it was due.

The Paladin himself joined them resplendent in his armor, the cold blue tones of the Neo-Crusader beskargam contrasting sharply with the red and black of his helm that served as a symbol of office. While they conversed among themselves, he was silent. Watching and contemplating this achievement in comparison with all the others. Through his strong hand and stern orders they had come this far, to compete with Corellia and show the galaxy that whatever his people set their minds to, they would succeed. That was their way. Not the constant warring of millennia past. Not to sell themselves like Twi'leks to the highest bidder for their skills. Not even the engineering of war that had gained them respect from either side of nearly every conflict.

No, their way was to adapt. To overcome. Mandalorians were more than simply the penultimate warrior, they were survivors. Their single greatest conquest was life itself. Hundreds of worlds had seen the boots of Mandalorians, and hundreds more would in the future because of this. The ring was more than just a drive yard that would serve their fleet in repair, refit and replenishment, it was a sign that his way was right. And now the other clan leaders saw this. Those who doubted because of the Jedi, they now had their doubts not in him, but in their old ways. Just as Jaessih had stated to the Enclave's diplomat, they were coming upon a point where the Mandalorian Republic had stood long enough and their cultures had mixed enough for the old grudges to begin their death.

The youth of Mandalore were coming of age having known Jedi among them as allies. The Jedi were seeing a new generation of Knights rising who had lived as Mandalorians, studied their culture and vowed to the Resol'nare. Everything was proceeding by his design, and all that had been needed was patience. A patience to take things one step at a time, carefully convince the Alors of each clan and ensure the New Mandalorians felt they had a place within the new order. It was careful balancing, but it had been done.

"Mand'alor."

Sud Rengh, a man who served his clan diligently considering his youth, and that he had yet to prove himself in battle.

"I understand that the ring will now be able to not only refit the Republic in Exile's-"

"The Mandalorian Republic's fleet."

His sharp interruption came rasping through the armored helm, not even turning to regard the man behind him. All around them the conversation died down to a whisper, eyes and helmets turning to regard the two. For his part at least he stood his ground, Sud taking a drink of the Keldabe wine in one hand and smoothing down the red scruff at his chin before trying again.

"Of course, Mand'alor. With the ring now complete, it should be able to service our fleet sufficiently enough to have spare berths for the clan's banners. That was my understanding at least…"

"The clans do not need a youngling to ask for them what is theirs."

Some behind him snickered, finding it amusing in that he had chosen to speak of such things openly and so brashly. While it was always their way to be straightforward and to the point, there was of course a time and a place for such things. It didn't help that he was one of the few without armor, standing in a tailored dress-uniform indicating his status as part of the navy, red hair slicked back like some sort of city-worlder. A stark contrast to the burnished armor that most of the clan representatives wore, and the hardened features that showed their contributions to Mandalore.

"Of course Mand'alor, I was just…"

His words trailed off as Jaessih Suard came into the room, and while like him she was without armor, her bearing had quite the opposite effect on those around her. She was of the New Mandalorians in most respects, a woman who chose to serve the civilian government and not to fight for Mandalore. Yet despite that, she had won the respect of all those around her, and earned her place as secretary to the Mand'alor. Coming up to the side of the man in question, she shared a few short words with him before their leader took his leave and now she was effectively the leading authority in the room.

"As it has been for the last twenty years, each clan shall have their opportunity to requisition arms and armor for their banners. First we serve the Great Clan, then we see to the needs of each clan in turn based upon their merit. Such is our way."

"Such is our way."

A single nod had the effect of putting everyone at ease and their attention on her, for while the Mand'alor led the nation and commanded their military, it was her who spoke for him in moments like this. She brushed a hand across the shaved right side of her head, feeling along the braided line of black and down to her shoulder, ensuring her hair was not out of place and secured properly. Longer than most Mandalorians wore it, she was confident enough in her skills to have woven ornate beads between the braids, each one a signifier of an opponent defeated in single combat, multiple clan crests clear. That of Rengh was made especially visible, her sharp eyes settling on the man who thought to see his clan before the others.

"We have come a long way, brothers and sisters. From the ashes of the old republic's bitter distaste for our kind, to the ashes of our own making, and through the flames of yet another galactic war. Our recent history has been bloody, ruinous and if it were not for our Mand'alor the Paladin, we might be on the verge of our end. You all know this, for we were the ones who grew up in the shadows of a conflict that saw no need for us. Once, we were conquerors! We strode the stars and all of civilization quaked with fear for our coming!"

Her voice rang through the room, boot stamping down as a dozen more echoed hers, the clans nodding together and calling out in agreement.

"In our first crusade we burned world after world and were uncontested, for we had the Sith at our backs! What force could possibly stand against us and win? For the second, again we surged across the galaxy and fought and fought and fought and fought, with every battle killing more than we had lost. Even outnumbered and outgunned, we showed the galaxy what it was to be Mandalorian, for that was our way!"

"That is our way!"

"Yet both times we lost. Both times we were beaten back, beaten down and shattered into the divided clans. For millennia we fought each other and forgot the glory that was a united Mandalorian people, wallowing in our defeat and blaming everyone except for ourselves for our loss. We lost those crusades and every war that followed because of two things. First, is our own arrogance. As long as the galaxy feared us, we felt we were invincible. Unstoppable. Rulers of the stars. Our downfall was inevitable when they stopped being afraid. When they banded together like we had, and raised each other up to meet our skill."

Another at the side of the room was watching, her features stoic and impassive, but eyes keenly watching each member of the gathered clan leadership. To anyone else this could have been a series of different things, leading to doubts as to Jaessih's meaning, of what the clans were doing, and what the Mand'alor himself was even planning. She knew what it was though, it was an appeal to their desire for glory. Though she smiled to herself, her lips showed nothing of it, instead she merely turned away and went back to the wine at the side, holding a glass in her four-fingered grip as she was content to merely be the Jedi's representation in this meeting.

"Our second cause for each downfall was that we were simply fighting the wrong enemy. You each grew up with the tales passed down from your Alor, given to them by their Alor and so on and so on. The Jedi are the Great Enemy. We lost each war because of them, it was only by their interference that the crusades were stopped. That last part is correct, but I ask of each of you…. When time and time again you fail the hunt, do you keep doing as you have done each time? Do you continue to try and strike down the krayt with your spear, though its hide has proven too thick to pierce? Do you continue to try and fight it in its den, where the beast knows every inch and has every advantage?"

"No, no you do not. For it is our way to adapt. To overcome any challenge. To survive. That was why, when the Jedi and the Republic in Exile came to Mandalore, when all others had refused them or demanded their service, we welcomed them. For millennia we had fought the krayt and failed, time and again using the same methods, but now we have prevailed. We have joined with the Jedi, and in so doing our greatest enemy is now our greatest ally. Their strength is our strength, and our strength is theirs. For twenty years we have grown to trust one another more and more, to show them that our home is theirs, as every step of the way they have also shown us how to build our home into something worthy of fighting for."

Solace watched, the Open Circle Armada serving as a backdrop for the Mandalorian woman speaking to the gathered clan leaders. Even though she knew not what their plan was, it was starting to become clearer that there were things in motion that had been set to years ago. A great plan that had somehow managed to convince the disparate clans of Mandalorians to set aside their differences, agree to cease fighting each other and instead fight for the Great Clan. Something more than just building a nation she felt, but she had never been one to read the force, and a pall of darkness still lingered so that even the skilled seers needed guidance to read the future.

It wasn't just here and now though, the Corellians were also holding their own gatherings and celebrating their own achievements. As were the Empire and the Alsakani, with a myriad of other independent worlds looking to what would come next as the second decade after the end of the Republic passed. Even the Hapes Consortium was tentatively reaching out, drawing back the veil of isolation that they had lingered under for so long and sending out diplomats to make ties. The timing couldn't have been stranger, for the Founding was underway at the capital and thousands upon thousands were converging upon Mandalore itself to witness the coming of age of a new generation. One that had grown up not knowing the Republic, only hearing of what it had been.

"- and so, when you go forth to clad your sons and daughters in the iron, know that we are all Mando'ad. Whether one of those born of the vats, one who wields the force, or one who carries blaster and blade in the name of Mandalore, we are all equal. This is our Republic, a nation built by our people that will stand the test of war and time."

Those final words saw the rest of the room disperse, each of them heading out to begin preparations for The Founding that was to take place over the week and ensure that all necessary beskar had been acquired. Not all would take up the iron and become a warrior, but it was ceremony to represent a coming of age that was insisted upon. Eventually it was just Solace and Jaessih standing at the glass, watching the fleet moving about, some elements heading towards refit, others coming out.

"To stand the test of war and time." The Arkanian's soft tones came as a sort of questioning statement, glancing over with her pale features to regard the Mandalorian. It was partially accusatory, partially not, but ever the diplomatically vague that she specialized in.

"We are coming upon a new era Jedi, one which will change how the galaxy sees Mandalore forever. It all starts with this founding…"

Aboard the THUNDERING WRATH
^{Travelling through Hyperspace}

Koren walked through the halls of the ship. His black cape billowing through the halls as various officers and troops throughout the ship moved to the side to clear a path from him. He nodded his head to each of them in turn. In contrast to Hapan Culture at home, most of the people he came across were male. It was deemed a mans job to go out and risk their lives in war, whereas women were deemed fit to rule at home and better for dealing with the more important matters. He grinned recalling his talk with Allana before he left, something about the women sending the men off to play with toys so that they could deal with more important matters. He walked through a door, flanked by two figures in black. Ignoring his personal guard for a moment, he turned and ignited his blade as he heard the telltale sound of blades being removed from their scabbards. The swords came down on the blade, sparking and hissing as the vibrational frequency of the blade prevented the lightsaber from simply slicing through the metal alloy.

He kicked with his left foot as he extended his right arm, pushing his two opponents back, twisting himself around. They both stood to attention as he bowed before turning off his lightsaber and clipping it back onto his belt. "I know the Queen told you to keep me on my toes in the unlikely event of an assassination attempt, however, I don't think she meant you had to do it all the time." Koren raised his hand to sort his hair as a high pitched trill went through the ship. In anticipation, he raised his wrist so his commlink was in front of his face.

"My Prince, we're dropping out of hyperspace above Mandalore."

Koren nodded. "Understood. I'll be with you shortly, I'm just grabbing something from my quarters." The ship shook slightly as the ship dropped out of hyperspace into real space in the outer reach of the Mandalore system. Koren looked out to see the fleet of ships in hyperspace, he recognized the Venators immediately as the warhorse of the Republic, he'd been on one during the war. Almost a lifetime ago. Still, Mandalore looked thriving compared to the stories and the holos he had seen in his old life, intelligence had told him that the Mandalore Republic was growing, solidifying its strength and position in the Galaxy. In all honesty, he hadn't truly believed it until he saw it. As he convinced Allana they had to forgo their isolationist ways he had convinced her that the Jedi was the best first contact in the galaxy, doubtful and worried that they could really supply any form of real alliance with Mandalore at their back. He had been contemplating contacting Corellia first, however seeing how much Mandalore had grown by themselves in twenty short years.

Maybe these were the right people after all. As he grabbed the old Jedi-Commlink from his dresser he turned around, now flanked by his two guards as he made his way to the command deck. The officers continued their business, ships being one of the few places where regal protocols were slacker. Only the Captain, an aging man with thick mutton chops turned to acknowledge his presence. "Prince Omi-Ren. The Mandalorians have contacted us and given us a flight path, we'll be holding orbit above Keldabe in formation with two of their own ships. As ordered we are complying with their directions. Shall I hail them?"

Koren merely nodded as he raised his commlink. "This is Prince Koren Omi-Ren of the Hapes Consortium-" He paused as he contemplated throwing Jedi Knight in there, however, decided against it. He still wasn't sure if he would be accepted by the order. He had stayed away from the Order for twenty years. Trained soldiers in the ways of the Force and even fallen in love and gotten married. He'd be lucky to simply be stripped of his rank as a Jedi in the olden days, yet that was what he feared the most. That and disappointing his master, wherever the old Ithorian may be. "-"I come as an envoy of peace between our two peoples and stand ready to disembark my vessel to the meeting place of your choosing."

He nodded to the officer who stopped the transmission. It was a simple mission, brief and to the point. Koren let go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding all this time, he could feel the curiosity of the crew around him. From the experienced guards who knew their tutor well to Captain Andrea who simply had the ability to read men. Koren flashed a cocky smile at the Captain. "First time contacting a foreign power as a dignitary, it's a little exciting."

---

---

The transition out of hyperspace woke Ezali from the bunk she appropriated. Grabbing her helmet from where she put it when she went for a nap, she headed towards the bridge of the Gozanti class she was hitching a ride on.

”Keldabe ATC, this is the freighter Heart of Gold of the Banner Keldau’s Reach, requesting approach vector to the Orbital, over.”

”Keldabe ATC to Heart of Gold copy, ID confirmed. Sending you nav lane heading now. Contact Oribital Docking on 676.7 in five minuets. Welcome Home”

”Copy Keldabe, adjusting course to nav lane now, will contact Docking on 676.7 in five mike. Thank you Heartof Gold clear.”

She’d stood quietly and just watched as the pilot, her Banner-brother did his job; but now that things were settled she spoke up. ”So Ede,” She asked, leaning against the pilot’s seat to peer out the window. ”How long you figure before we get station-side?”

When Ezali had left Mandalor to go try her hand at mercenary/bounty hunting, the Orbital had been a vast skeletal web, and during her infrequent visits home she’d seen it slowly come together but now, it looked like it was complete; and if that was the case she hoped the Corellians, Imps and Mandalor could put all their shit aside at least long enough to go and deal with the Confed once and for all.

While she’d been musing, Ede had been working the ship’s consoles. ”Ah, you’re awake,” He said in a way of greeting. ”But yeah, with this traffic we should be station-side in about thirty.”

Ezali thanked Ede and was about to leave the bridge when Ji, the co-pilot twitched in her seat and bent over the sensor display. ”Damn, would you look at that!” A few key strokes brought an external camera to what she’d spotted on sensors, and then routed the feed onto a cockpit holo.

”Is that what I think it is?”

”If you’re thinking a Hapes Nova class, then yes.”

”Never thought I’d see one of those…especially here. Wonder why they’ve come out from under their rock?”

There were of course no answers forthcoming, so leaving the flight crew to their work Ezali headed back to the bunk she’d commandeered. The Heart of Gold had been heading back to Mandalor in time for the Founding on a recruitment drive for the Banner Keldau’s Reach, the mercenary company which owned the Heart of Gold and employed Ezali, Ede and Ji.

Only Ede and Ji were along to try and hire new blood, Ezali had simply caught a ride because she hadn’t been home in quite a while and after how nerve wracking her last job had been, she felt she deserved some time off.

---

As Aroma was finishing her latest journal entry, she looked up just in time to see the bright streaks of stars dissipate from the window in her room, signaling that the ship had just dropped from hyperspace. After quickly wrapping up the entry, she stashed her datapad back into her bag and quickly left her room, scurrying through the halls of the CR90 until she reached the bridge.

”Keldabe ATC, this is CR90 Rocinante, requesting permission to enter Mandalorian airspace, over.”

”Keldabe ATC to Rocinante, wait one… Keldabe welcomes you Corellians, please standby and follow your escort to the landing pad.”

Aroma stepped closer to the front of the bridge as the chatter went on, only speaking once she was sure that the pilot had secured their clearance to land.

”So this is Mandalore… It doesn’t look anything like the Mandalore I learned in the academy. It’s so much… greener… the drive yards look new as well.” She spoke softly, gazing at the planet in front of her and drinking in its various colors.

”That’s because they are, if I didn’t know any better I’d say they just took them from Kuat. I wouldn’t mention the greenery if I were you though, they might still be bitter and we don’t want to cause an incident.” The pilot responded candidly.

”Of course. I have to admit, this is both exciting and terrifying, it’s like I’m about to perform live for the first time again and we’re not even at the venue yet.” Her hands squeezed together as she imagined her upcoming performance, the butterflies in her stomach working up a storm inside of her while she fought to calm herself down.

”I mean no disrespect, but are these really the type of people that will enjoy your music? Let alone respect it? Knowing Mandalorians, their favorite song is probably just the largest piece of artillery they can find.” The pilot scoffed, earning quite the glare from Aroma.

”If I were you, sir, I wouldn’t mention how easily you give in to stereotypes, especially during a mission of peace like this. We wouldn’t want to cause an incident after all. Besides, the stereotypes tend to be ridiculous anyway, like the one where they never take off their helmets. It’s like saying every Corellian is a master shipwright, which, if you spent even just a moment at the academy, you’d know is preposterous.” She replied with a frown, only to be replaced with a small smile as a couple of Mandalorian fighters approached. ”Ah, that must be our escort. If you’ll excuse me, I must gather my things for when we land.” She spoke, swiftly turning on her heel and leaving the bridge before the pilot could utter a response.

After returning to her room, Aroma diligently packed the last of her things back into her travel suitcase and bag, making sure to pocket a couple of her good luck charms for the show. She then sent a quick message to her grandfather about her arrival before the ship shuddered as it made landfall. Once she made sure she had everything she needed, Aroma made her way to the landing ramp and slowly descended, wondering who would be both meeting and escorting her around the Mandalorian capital.

Alanna

Pop, Crackle "Shit." thunk. Alanna threw the multi-tool on the floor and wiped the dirt from her face as the Astromech that had just short circuited on her hit the floor of the rafter overlooking the observation deck. Considering today had to be damn near perfect, her work day couldn't have gotten off to a worse start. The journey to work had been fairly normal, a kiss on the forehead of the twins, a kiss with Laars returning from a long night shift of putting in the new observation deck on the MDY ring. And a shuttle ride contemplating all the cock ups she's probably going to have to fix. Nothing so far had gone right, three of the maintenance droids had blown their servos because some idiot put too much weight on them and it seemed as though a Gremlin had gone after some of the Astromechs as they had spent all morning short circuiting. Probably Sable's fault.

Checking her watch she noticed that it was almost time for the ceremony to start. It was odd for her to think that in a few years time perhaps the twins would be down there. Firith was already showing signs of wanting to join the military, though he was only seven so he might just think that the starships are cool.

As she sat on the gantry completely ignoring whatever her responsibilities were, Alanna found herself staring into the void above her and wondering about all the ways her life could have been so different. Would she trade Laars and the twins for any of them, absolutely not, but it was nice to imagine. She also found herself staring at the various ships of Open Circle Fleet and picking out the ones she'd worked on.

As her radio kicked into life and the voice of her supervisor came through wondering where she was Alanna was brought back to reality. As she stood up she caught sight of a CR-90 flying past the ring and was reminded of the concert that was coming up and that Sable would be taking the twins to it so she and Laars could have a night alone for the first time in a long time. Though if Sable could get her an autograph as well she'd make sure he was rewarded, no way Alanna would let on that she would listen to Paff's music on repeat while in the shuttle rides.

Sable

"Oh woe is me. A near immortal machine of unparalleled killing potential, reduced to this. sigh." "Sable can I have more milk?" The voice of a young girl cried from the dinner table behind him. "Of course Master Jiari." Sable replied with a slight hint of exasperation in his voice. So Sable's morning began much the same as it had begun everyday for the last seven years or so; 6:15: wake the twins for school, 6:45: Make sure the Twins are showered, 7:00: Wake Master Alanna for work, 7:05: prepare breakfast for the twins, possibly Alanna if she asks, 7:45: Take children to school, 8:30: return home and begin daily chores; cleaning, vacuuming, any cooking for the evening and go grocery shopping. And if he was back early enough then maybe, just maybe he could enjoy an oil bath before the twins and Alanna came home.

Seven long years of being reduced to a domestic servant bot. Any normal droid with his level of sentience would have most likely grown to resent Alanna for this, but not Sable, Sable understood that while this life was certainly different to the one he had a few hundred years ago, it was equally as important to the family he serves. For Alanna to put her children's safety in Sable's hands, even for the short walk to school, it takes an incredible amount of trust on her part. And even though Sable found the tasks on his daily to-do list mundane to put it mildly, he would still achieve them to the best of his ability.

By this time Sable was an established sight around the area, no one questioned what an HK droid was doing with with two small children, or why he was buying meat and vegetables, it was just the norm now. And while most people would listen to music while shopping Sable had a different way to pass the time. Listening to secure channel comm traffic, 100% a crime, probably, but they'd yet to kick him off and besides what Alanna doesn't know he's doing won't hurt her. As Sable went about his business two rather interesting calls went over the comms. Some loser from the Hapes consortium coming to do diplomacy was of no concern to him, but the arrival of a Corellian ship could only mean one thing, that annoying pop star had arrived. He'd known for a while that he was escorting the Twins there and back, maybe he'd listen to some Rapdekka while that noise was going on. But that was a problem for future Sable to deal with, for now it was back to scrutinising vegetables.

Debecca sat in the cockpit of his Headhunter floating in orbit around Mandalore waiting, he was flanked on either side by an ARC fighter all the ships painted in the Basilisk Squadron colors. Debecca had been lucky although it had been less than a month since he had been cleared to return to service, Basilisk squadron had been newly formed and picked of mainly fresh recruits meaning he hadn't had to go to far out of his way to reign in the group and this was going to be their first real assignment. Babysitting an Idol.... Even worse than that a late one....

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, this was one of the rare occasions that Debecca had choose to wear his Formal attire instead of a flight suit or his Mandalorian Armor but, there was little to no chance of combat and he was going to have to escort someone around so this is what his superiors thought was best. Actually they had wanted him to leave the space escort to his Squad and for him to be waiting at the spaceport, but that wasn't the way Debecca operated and they knew that. He took a moment to glance at the time 15 minutes late... But it was then that one of his Squad chimed in "50 Credits that she had to get her hair perfect." Fixer the gunner of the left Arc fighter claimed. With that comment being fiercely rebuked by Drake the pilot of that same fighter who was apparently a huge fan. Debecca let the squabble go on for a little bit to let the boys blow off some steam, that was until the call came through. "Alright boys just got word they arrived everyone on your best behavior." He said over their local comms as he started to fire up his engines and move into place on escort duty quickly followed by the other two fighters.

Debecca took his place above the CR90 while the Arc fighters moved to the flanks of the ship. Things had gone smoothly just as planned and after entering orbit Debecca broke off from the formation allowing the other two ships to finish the escort while he went ahead to reach the landing pad first. The designated pad was more than large enough to accommodate all four of the ships Debecca made sure he made it there first taking a spot off to the side allowing the CR90 to land in the center of the pad.

After landing Debecca hopped out of his ship patted out any wrinkles that he could see and grabbed his hat before moving to the front of the pad where two other members of his squadron were already waiting dressed in the standard Mandalorian armor. It only took a few more minutes for the Ship to land and for Aroma to exit the craft. Debecca gave her a smile as she walked up. "Welcome to Mandalore Miss Paff. My name is Debecca Esscan, and I have the honor of being your escort around the capital this fine day."

---

"Remember: follow your training, and you will-"

The students watched in horror as a hail of laser fire pierced through the darkness from a rogue Vulture Droid Starfighter. The simulated battle was far more intense than anything the students had seen before in their experience. The Eta-3 Interceptor's hull was ripped to shreds, before an explosion launched the debris into a cloud where their Jedi master once was. The twelve students were now alone to face down a Lucehulk on their own. Red One, the highest marked student in the class, piped up almost immediately. "Evasive manuevers while I patch through to command." The admiral's son took a deep breath while he re-routed his comms under heavy turbolaser fire as if it were a piece of cake. Flying was in his blood, after all. Once he got the green light and static, he called out. "This is Red One to Command. Red Leader is down, and we are outgunned in CIS contested space. Red Squadron is awaiting orders."

In the meantime, Ro Nuul sat back and watched his students from the comfort of his flight simulator. His monitor showed a 3D holoprojection of the simulated battlefield, and the Jedi Knight sighed and shook his head as he watched his students failing one by one. He heard Red One's call to command and gave a slight nod, before turning to flick a switch on his console.

The static increased significantly in his ear, and a quick look to the control panel revealed the worst: communications were being jammed. Red One looked through his cockpit at the sight before him. They were outmatched five to one with starfighters, and only half of the students were still alive in the simulation. Red One ground his teeth and sighed. "Red Squadron, prepare to jump to hyperspace. We're going to regroup with Republic command."

Red Three grit his teeth at the order. "We know how to take this thing down. We need to make a rush for their hangar bay." The student smiled as his targeting computer confirmed a lock on the Vulture Droid that was tailing Red Five, and squeezed the trigger. The volley of laser fire tore the droid to pieces. "We need to complete the mission, Red One."

Red One shook his head as his droid finished the calculations. "Then finish it on your own. I'm not tanking my 'no-death' record to go on a suicide run in our final. I'm jumping now." Before Red Three could even protest, the top student eased the lever forward and watched the world around him zip past.

Red Three watched as the others followed suite, one by one. Within seconds, Red Three was left as nearly twenty remaining Vulture droids began to lock in on his position in the asteroid field. The Mandalorian student gave a wicked grin as he called back to his astromech droid. "All power to forward shields and thrusters. Let's outrun these clankers."

The X-Wing lurched forward as Red Three bobbed and weaved through the asteroid field. The Vultures could barely seem to register the X-Wing's trajectory, slowly turning to try and chase the lone fighter with little success. Red Three was careful enough to also use the asteroids as cover fire, as the Lucrehulk's turbolasers were having trouble locking on with all the debris in the way. With a little luck and a lot of skill, the last student managed to zip past an asteroid and swing himself right into the open hangar bay. The interior defense turrets could only get a shot or two off on the X-Wing before it zipped by, and the shields managed to hold together just fine. As he saw the end of the hangar bay quickly approaching, Red Three called out to his astromech, "Cut the thrusters. Weapons to full power!"

The next few seconds were a blur. As Red Three's X-Wing zoomed past the Vulture Droid Starfighters, the pilot fired everything he had at the exposed reactors. And then, with a flash of light, the screen went black. Red Three heard the simulator powering down, and his hatch automatically opened to reveal the well-lit hangar the simulators sat in. As the student began climbing out of the cockpit, the other students were all cheering and hollering. All, that is, except Red One. A large screen nearby simply read "Mission Complete" in bold letters. Red One's glare went from his classmate to his teacher, who was rapidly approaching the crowd of students. As soon as the Kel Dor approached, the students fell silent and directed their attention towards their master.

"Red Three... you are aware that if your squadron leader dies, command falls to the highest ranking pilot in the squadron, correct."

Red Three, a human standing a little under Ro's height, turned his gaze towards the ground in defeat. "Yes, sir."

"So that made Red One your superior officer, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you disobeyed his direct order to jump to hyperspace..."

"I needed to complete the mission, sir." Red Three's face hardened. His square jaw seemed to stiffen, and the boy's eyes were lifted to meet Ro's in defiance beneath his mop of red hair.

Ro meerly folded his arms at the sight of Red Three's defiance. The tension in the room was palpable, as the Jedi Master's reputation for dismissing pilots for insubordination was legendary in the Academy. With his eyes and goggles seeming to narrow, Ro began pacing. "In order to get this straight for your examination report... you chose to disobey a direct order from your superior officer to go on a suicide run into the heart of a Droid Command Ship to fulfill your mission?"

The defiance in Red Three's eyes dwindled as his gaze turned towards the ground once again. He was silent for a few moments before weakly responding, "Yes, sir."

Ro gave a thoughtful nod, before reaching towards his utility belt and pulling out a small medal from one of his pouches. He held it out in his four-fingered hand beneath Red Three's gaze, and the student's head recoiled back in shock. It was an emblem known by every student Ro Nuul ever taught: the insignia of the Iron Squadron. "It seems I have taught you well after all, Iron Twelve."

Before the other students could rush in to congratulate their fellow classmate, Red One's voice boomed through the hangar. "WHAT! I played things by the book perfectly. I took command, tried to contact command, and then made the judgement call at the last minute to save my Squadron's lives. I did what any good-" The large Zabrak halted in both his steps and words as soon as Ro raised his hand.

Ro was silent for a moment as his gaze fell on each student individually before finally turning back to Red One, the son of one of the GRM's admirals. "You did play things by the book, and without a moment's hesitation. And for that reason, I will be recommending you to serve as an officer in this Navy. You will do well in Tarkin's military." Red One began to open his mouth again to speak out, but was silenced by the furrowing of Ro's brow. "I'm not looking for a man who will play by the book in my squadron. I have been looking for pilots who will go fight against the odds and do whatever is necessary to complete their mission. No matter what it takes. That is why Ezran Wrells will serve as my Iron Twelve. The rest of you have passed the final examination, and will receive your orders after the Founding Ceremony. May the Force be with you."

---

For the last four years, Iron Squadron was responsible for acting as an elite security escort for the Founding ceremony. This year was no different. The Jedi Ace had been busy coordinating starfighter escorts to various dignitaries and Mandalorian banners for about three hours from the comfort of his modified Eta-3 Interceptor, the Dauntless II, before anything interesting had happened. Ro Nuul raised his brow as he overheard a particular transmission to Keldabe from the Prince of the Hapes Consortium. The name was familiar, but it took Ro a moment to process. By the time it clicked, Ro flipped a switch and called out from his Eta-3 Interceptor. "Keldabe ATC, Iron Three and Iron Seven are moving into position to escort the Thundering Wrath. I'll act as the welcoming committee for this one."

With that, Ro Nuul relayed the orders to his squadron. Two Eta-3 Starfighters began their approach to flank the Nova-class battle cruiser. The Jedi Ace took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts for a moment. It's not going to be him, Ro. But let's see this through. The Dauntless II began it's approach, and Ro hailed the cruiser with his comms unit. "This is Jedi Knight Ro Nuul of Iron Squadron requesting boarding permission to personally welcome you to the Grand Republic of Mandalore."

@Sep

She had not agreed to this.

Those were the only thoughts on the matter that Mor'gann Arnhar, the traitor of her former tribe, could cohesively form on the matter without losing her temper and the limited grasp on the Basic language that she had. What she had paid for in the choice hides she had collected and preserved over the years was passage to Taris aboard the smuggler's ship. Not passage to this place. "Not Taris." Came the cool voice as she blocked the smuggler's way. A hand straying to the thick knives on her belt and one decrepit saber hilt. "Paid passage Taris." She wasn't the most impressive figure, but the smuggler was wise enough to back up a step. He had traded with her people a handful of times before and she had offered him an extremely cheap deal for hides that would have been only cost him a tad more in useless gear. The only thing was that he would have a passenger for a time.

The smuggler for his part frowned, "What you paid for was transport to another planet. I was heading to Taris, now I aint." Annoyed by the young warrior, he was loath to get in a fight with the young woman. The tribe on Dxun were hunters and in a closed space, he didn't want to get in a tangle when his blaster could damage his own ship. The rust bucket was falling apart as it was, not that the barbarian woman knew that. "My buyer for your hides said to meet them here on Mandalore. So I don't have a reason to go to Taris unless it's to get drunk. There's no business that would take me that way right now."

The yellow eyes that unnerved the smuggler stared at him for several long moments as Mor'gann worked through the Basic language that worked through the nonsensical words. So he wasn't going to Taris, because he got a better trade here. For her hides. She disliked that especially. Oh, Mor'gann well knew that the smuggler was going to get a far higher price than what he paid for them. It had never bothered her before she had left Dxun, but the rules of survival were changing. The money would be useful, especially if she needed off the planet again. "No Taris? Hides price go up."

"No. I took you off that planet. I'm not paying more for those hides." The smuggler argued. There was no reason for him to lose such a large profit just because some primitive woman couldn't accept how the galaxy worked. "Now let me by." He shoved passed the woman and down the ramp to where he had docked. There were hides to unload and he was trying to pass as an honest merchant of sorts.

Mor'gann felt her arm be knocked aside as the smuggler pilot made his exit. Oh, the bastard had cheated her and now she was to be let on this forsaken planet. Taris, she had heard was a city and surely in a city of many people, she would have found a way to survive. In Mandalore, an unknown place, she was not so sure. She had questioned the smuggler at length beforehand on the planet and it was all very alien to the young shaman. "No." She disagreed, plucking a spare piece of piping that was meant to repair the ship, testing its heft for a moment before whirling and slamming it into the back of the smuggler's head. He shouted as he gripped his throbbing head, and Mor'gann swept the make-shift staff under his feet. Sending him tumbling down the ramp as she followed in a more conservative fashion. "My apologies, but if you insist on leaving me on an unknown planet, then I require back what I paid you for information. Do try to forget about me. It's for our best interests." She chatted amicably in her native tongue to the unconscious body while she checked the wound and found it not life-threatening. At most, the man would wake with a throbbing headache and nauseous. Killing he wouldn't have done her any good. He had gotten her off of Dxun, and that was something Mor was grateful for. Quickly, she plucked a decently sized pouch from the man finding it fulled of enough what she recognized as a currency. Though it was something she wasn't used to seeing. The traders who were new to Dxun often offered them such things and found themselves rejected. The tribe didn't see much use, when they need things.

Sighing, the young woman dragged the man back up the ramp, setting him just beside a pile of the hides she had sold him for her freedom from the rotten planet where she was born. Rubbing the back of her neck and feeling the bone pin that held her dark hair out of her face. She should not have done that and Mor was cursing herself a fool. But she had paid him for information that she felt justly cheated out of. So it was fair, in a sense. Thinking better of sticking around too much longer, the Dxun native scooped up the pack she had and strapped the rough staff to it as well. It would have been better if she had taken some of the hides, but he had gotten her off of Dxun. Taking the hides would just be wrong as he had provided that service at least. As it was she was sticking out like a maalraas's red skin in the middle of a sunny glade. "Oh, joy. I go from a home where everything wants to kill me, to a place where people cannot speak straight and cut horrid bargains. This is going to be wonderful. Just splendid." Muttered Mor'gann with annoyance, as she drew the hood of the drexli leather cloak up over her pale face.

As soon as Koren heard the name he turned with a swish of his cloak to leave the bridge and head towards the hangar, as he got to the door he turned his head to the Captain. “Permission is granted, I’ll meet them in the hangar.” He had no doubt that two Miy’til fighters would have launched from the hangar bay to fly out and escort the Jedi Fighters. HE was nervous, denying that was pointless. He took a deep breath drawing on his training to slow his heartbeat, lowering the anxious aura he was no doubt presenting. Not only was he seeing a Jedi immediately, which was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to do yet.

What made it even more nerve wracking is it wasn’t just a Jedi, it was a Jedi he knew. Or at least he thought he knew, it had been over twenty years since they had seen each other, and they had both been padawans. Since then he had been held captive, joined a foreign power nobody knew about until earlier in the year. Fell in love and married against the best wishes of the code he had grown up with, and more importantly trained a group of Force Sensitive individuals in the ways of the Force without the religious doctrine of the Jedi. He knew he was a Jedi, and would always be a Jedi however he understood that the religious doctrine wasn’t for everyone.

He entered the hangar flanked by two guards as the modified ETA came into the hangar flanked by the two other ships. He stood there, arms interlocked behind his back waiting for the pilot to disembark. He could already feel the familiar presence, and as the cockpit of the ship opened and Ro stepped out a slight smile crossed the Jedi Princes face. “Welcome aboard, Jedi Knight Ro Nuul.”

As soon as Ro raised his glance to meet the Prince of the Hapes Consortium, he paused momentarily. His goggles and brow seemed to raise momentarily, before his breath mask began to vibrate and echo the laughter of the Jedi Ace. He moved in quickly to hold out his four fingered hand towards the Prince for a handshake, before finally speaking. ”Koren... I didn’t expect to see you again!” The deep, muffled voice broke for a moment into more nervous laughter, before the Knight shook his head to recompose himself. ”You said you were the Prince of the Hapes Consortium now? Was being a Knight not good enough?”

Koren sent a flash of warning through the Force towards his guards who had started to move towards their weapons. They received the instruction before they even had their hands on the hilts of their weapons. He clasped the Jedis hands between his two in a double handshake. “Well, you escape a Separatist Fleet as Coruscant Falls, get taken captive, agree to train the Royal Guard to let younglings go free, fall in love and get married while avoiding assassination attempts.” Koren chuckled nervously as he raised his hand onto his shoulder and rubbed it nervously. “I’m glad to see that you survived what happened to Coruscant. It’s still a shock. So what’s the word from the Council? I assume you’re here to escort me down and tell me I’m no longer a Jedi Knight.”

Ro tilted his head slightly towards his old comrade in arms. It had been decades since they last served together, so it’s no surprise that Koren had been through so much. But the Jedi Knight took a step back once Koren seemed to get defensive. Ro folded his arms as his brow knit together. ”I’m not here to take you to the Council so they can reprimand you.” An audible sigh emanated from Ro’s mask before the Jedi nodded towards his starfighter and the Astromech on board. ”While you were making an attachment and toying with politics, I’ve been serving here. The Force brought you here during the Mandalorian coming of age ceremony, and I am running security escorts down to the surface. So let me know where it is you want to go, Koren, and I’ll make sure we get you, and your people, there safely.”

Koren chuckled slightly. “In all honesty, I’m not even sure where to start. I convinced Alana that it was time that Hapes got out of the Transitory Mists and started to have a positive impact on the Galaxy. I came to Mandalore as from what out scouts determined the Jedi had come after what happened to Coruscant. So I felt that it was a sensible place to start out. I did send communications ahead, which is no doubt how everyone seems to know about us.” He sighed as he took a step back from the Jedi and signalled for him to follow him, his guards stepped to the side to let him past. “While I wait for some official communication from Mandalore, fill me in on what's been going on? What’s the status of the order? The Republic?” He laughed. “I never thought I would need to figure out the status of the Galaxy to be a foreign diplomat.”

Ro Nuul nodded and placed his hands behind his back as he followed the prince, making sure to pass his gaze over the guards as he did so. ”Well, for starters… The Order splintered when Grievous launched the assault on Coruscant, which I only barely escaped that battle to end up on Dantooine…” The Jedi paused momentarily to shake his head. ”As for the state of things... Grievous and his droid army are still operational. Admiral Renkar formed some sort of Empire starting from Ord Mantell and has been dominant in the galactic north. They're the only ones engaged in open warfare with the CIS. The Republic proper is split between the Corellian government, who claim to be the proper republic in the core, and then the Grand Republic of Mandalore, the government with the most unused firepower.” Ro’s brow knit as he said this, the resentment practically oozing from his voice before recomposing himself.

”As for the Jedi Order… it seems to be split into three camps. We have the Jedi Enclaves here on Mandalore, where the Jedi High Council for the most part has reformed and who you’re most likely going to want to speak to. The Corellians have their own order at this point, the Green Jedi, and I’ve heard rumors about the Empire managed to get a few Jedi and force sensitives that they’ve been training up.” The Jedi Knight took a deep breath, and lifted one hand to scratch his temple. ”Though, if there’s anyone you’re going to want to meet… it’ll be the Paladin himself. He’s in charge of all the clans, and if you’re looking to make a difference around here, it’ll help to have his blessing.”

Koren shook his head as the news about the Jedi Order came through. ”I knew the Republic fractured with the Separatist attack, I even knew that the chief clanker was still around and fighting some form of Empire. I never knew that the Jedi had fractured, and so badly at that.” He let his head hang for a second as they continued to pass through the halls, people throughout the ship moved to the side and bowed their heads as they passed through the corridors. ”I had planned a visit to Corellia, and I’ll probably be in touch with them to sort that out after I’m done here.”

He sighed as he finally came to a bulkhead, opening the door to show a stateroom. He signalled to his guards to wait outside, they looked at each other behind their hooded masks for a second before nodding and taking up flanking positions around the door. ”I am glad to see that you also made it old friend, life has taken us both in strange ways. This may seem a strange question to ask, since we have not spoken in a long time and have both changed since then, but do you feel like the Jedi Council will take me back?” He sat in a chair, pouring himself a glass of a fine brandy, he held the bottle towards the Kel Dor in a gesture that he was offering him some. ”I have never seen myself as anything other than a Jedi, even since I started training the Royal Guard and Prince to the Consortium.”

Koren laughed. ”Remember when our masters took us on the relief mission during the Clone Wars and everything went sideways? I thought that was complicated.”

The inquisitor's eyes jolted open as soon as his bronze-colored Eta-2 emerged from hyperspace. Dra'kal's several minutes of peace and solitude had now ended, leaving his mind momentarily fuzzy and sluggish while he gathered his thoughts. Beyond his cockpit laid his destination - the sun-bleached planet capital that housed the Grand Republic of Mandalore. For a planet belonging to the fearsome Mandalorian warriors, let alone the so-called "successors" of the now defunct Old Republic, the Kaleesh had always felt rather underwhelmed by its appearance. Gone were the dominant days of the mighty ecumenopolis of Coruscant serving as the center of the galaxy - having been glassed to hell and back - with the title now left to an outer-rim planet with a spanning desolate desert, dotted only by domed city islands that serve as an oasis of civilization.

Compared to the Renkar Imperium's own capital, Mandalore is merely a piece of raw sandstone compared to the bright jewel of Ord Mantell and it had always baffled Dra'kal as to how life even started there in the first place. Legends had once described the planet as bustling with life, sporting massive forests, huge grassland plains, and vast oceans - once again similar to Ord Mantell - only for millennia of war to sterilize its surface into the vast white deserts seen today. It could be seen as both a blessing to cull the Mandalorians to cease their brutal, war-hungry, conquering ways, and as a travesty regarding the destruction a once beautiful world. He'd heard that it's been slowly healing with the help of the jedi but it'll still be a long and arduous effort nonetheless.

Overall, it's a place that the Kaleesh rarely found himself traveling to. Not only because he was not a fan of what the Republic had done to Kalee back prior to the Clone Wars, but more-so that his assignments were usually situated elsewhere in securing peace and order throughout the Empire's territory. In fact, he usually tries to stay as far away from here as possible, only reluctantly going when he was ordered to. And whenever he was free to do his own bidding, Dra'kal was busy dealing with a far more personal task - searching for the location of a certain CIS general who had betrayed both his tribe and ultimately his own home planet. In total, he had been in this sector a grand total of three times now, and at this point he would rather be doing anything else or be wherever else than being here.

But today, the Kaleesh wasn't sent here for any old menial errands. In fact, he was sent here to deliver a very important object to the Jedi Enclaves for them to look over. That very object was tucked between his feet wrapped in a brown leather pouch, sporting a pyramid-like shape. He knew full well of the cargo that he carried and made sure that no suspicions were raised regarding its contents. Thankfully, Dra'kal's trip went smoothly as could be, making it out without any eventful situations whatsoever. He proceeded to make towards the planet's surface where he flew by Mandalore's capital, Keldabe. However, the Jedi Enclaves weren't located in the city, rather it was just beyond its borders but within walking distance.

Once the Kaleesh landed in front of the temple's entrance, he grabbed the bag containing the artifact and stood outside his interceptor. Dra'kal seemed to be expecting a diplomat of some kind to meet him out front, or so it had been told to him anyways.

---

---

Mandalore, The Citadel
Year Four, After Re-synchronization

From up on high, nearly a thousand meters above the ground, she watched the skies. The council had told her of their visitor, one of a fair many today and for the coming week, but this one was one that they could ill afford to allow misrepresentation. No mere knight of the order would greet the envoy of the Shadow Council, it was going to be her. Coming right on the heels of the completion of the Ring around the planet left her with little time to consider her options for wear, settling on the red layered dress for now and glancing at the time. Half hour until expected landing, just enough to finish up and make her way down to the surface. Outside she could hear the nearby turbolaser pylons swiveling to track incoming and outgoing vessels. Most were simply coming in to land at the base of the Citadel to drop off supplies. There crates were loaded up onto skiffs that made their way up and down what used to be the upper section of what had once been the Battalion.

It hadn't been called that in nearly two decades though, not since the fleet had lowered the battered and bruised Praetor to the surface and settled it against the face of the mesa. A gift to the order, the Paladin had said, something that would prove a little more sturdy in the face of bombardment. And so it had, for the gentle haze of the shields glimmered softly along the horizon, enough to ensure that the worst of the elements rarely bothered the civilians and Jedi walking the long road from Keldabe to the base of the tower.

Just a slight bit of rouge was all she tended in regards to her makeup, knowing that who she met was not some diplomat but a proper inquisitor made all that much easier for her. There wasn't all the pomp to go through, tidying up, fetching the paint and silks. Instead, she hooked her lightsabers to her waist and checked the time once more before boarding the main turbolift and heading down to the surface.

It was then that the Eta-2 was caught breaking orbit, taking a nice and easy flight path towards were all the other civilian vehicles were parked off to the side of the main veranda. As expected, it was followed by a decent portion of the turbolasers, always wary of visitors from the Empire. Solace was there to greet him however, and the scrutiny of the Citadel's defenses wavered to find other targets. His presence was barely noticed by those passing by, only the occasional stare from people walking the gardens at the base and of course the Temple Guard always vigilant.

"Dra'kal Sherom."

She spoke first as she came to stand before him, giving a slight inclination of her head out of respect, dark colored hair bobbing just lightly in the gentle breeze. As it was still quite bright out and the star's light reflected strongly off the flagstone and durasteel of the pathways, her right hand kept a parasol over her, while the left was extended to him by way of greeting.

"Verra Alleron, diplomat for the Grand Republic of Mandalore and the Jedi Enclaves. Most simply call me Solace, so either is fine." Her green eyes settled on the bag in hand, curious about the contents to be sure, but knowing that it was likely to be sent straight to the archives and never see too much scrutiny beyond. "If you would come with me, I'll guide you into the Citadel and we can get to business, unless you prefer a tour of the grounds first?"

As Dra'kal exited his ship, he would see a lone feminine figure walking towards him from the Citadel. He paused to inspect her from afar, initially believing that she was the diplomat he'd be meeting. He would be correct with that assumption, but the inquisitor couldn't help but have his attention concentrated upon the jedi's unusually "elegant" and "striking" attire, being a crimson dress that stretched down to her ankles while carrying a parasol. For a moment, he didn't seem to believe that she was a part of their order; perhaps believing her to be a politician or someone belonging with the Viszla Family. After all, the kaleesh was more used to seeing the traditional brown-and-tan robes coming from someone within their order, whether he met one of them during a mission or simply during his previous sparse trips to this very temple. Even most the people around him had the iconic robes that he was familiar with, with the temple guards garnering their own white robes.

Nonetheless, despite dress having caught his temporary attention, Dra'kal mentioned nothing as the diplomat finally reached him and proceeded to call him by his full name. The inquisitor proceeded to remove his hooded cloak to reveal his bone-white mask that hid his face. All that could hint of his own humanity were the two amber eyes that seemed to almost illuminate from within. Despite his imposing features, the Inquisitor glanced down at the jedi and shook her hand.

"Greetings," Dra'kal replied with a deepened tone, which amplified his rather strong kaleeshi accent, "You must be~?"

The jedi was quick to reply, introducing herself as Verra Alleron or Solace for short. She would then offer him to enter the Citadel, as well as a tour of the grounds if he was willing to. Dra'kal gave a quick second to consider before finally settling on an answer.

"I thank you for the offer Solace," the Kaleesh humbly responded with a wave of his hand, "But let's prioritize with the contents first. Once sorted, perhaps I wouldn't mind getting a proper tour of the Citadel."

Indeed, the Kaleesh hadn't had a proper tour of the Citadel whenever he visited. He only roughly remembers a handful of areas that he was taken to to conduct any business regarding the Imperium. He wasn't much of the type to sightsee anyways, and even then he never really had the time to do much of that. However the Citadel had always been an exception to him. How different, or similar, were the enclave jedi really compared to the Imperium's own? And considering he wasn't ordered to report back as soon as possible, he might as well take the opportunity to himself.

It was about time anyways.

---

---

The Heart of Gold was guided into one of the Orbital’s many secondary hangers, landing amongst a variety of freighters and private light warships belonging to other Banners. While the others post-flighted the ship, Ezali bade them farewell and wished them luck in their recruitment.

”You know, you could stay and help…” Ede said with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

”Tempting…” Ezali laughed as she put her helmet on. ”But I’ll have to pass.” With that she disembarked the ship and headed out of the hanger. With the Founding just around the corner, the station was a hive of activity. Clearing Customs and exiting the hanger and taking a moment to orient herself and watch the crowds; Mandalorians, Army, Navy, Banner or civilian, made their way amongst one another with the occasional Imperial, Corellian or other foreign national dotted about.

As she was starting to find her bearings, she spotted an info kiosk that was offering maps of at least this section of the Orbital. She felt a bit ridiculous having to play the part of ‘tourist’ and load the map into her helmet display…but they had added a whole lot to the station since she’d been there last. Map loaded, she now knew exactly where she was, and spotting a tag on the map, she knew where she was going first.
--
Weaving her way through the crowds she eventually made it too the droid workshop where her friend Alanna worked. Letting herself in, Ezali made her way past racks of droid components and the silent shells of shut down droids. Eventually she found the Twi’lek staring out a window at a passing CR-90. She rapped a durasteel clad knuckle on a workbench, and pulled her helmet off. ”Hey Lanna, surprise!” She chirped with a grin before looking about. ”Where’s Grumpy-bot?” She asked upon not seeing Alanna’s cantankerous HK unit about.

---

---

Mandalore, The Citadel
Year Four, After Re-synchronization

Straight to business it seemed, and she wasn't entirely opposed to it for once. The song and dance that came with the Empire's usual diplomatic envoy was… Tiring, and that was on a good day. A sort of unspoken understanding was almost always there between Jedi. Even if their orders were vastly different, with hers being a bit more unorthodox and progressive. It was obvious not just in the way she dressed more like one who spent more time in the government, but also in everything around them. A rather large number of what looked to be civilians and True Mandalorians milled about the gardens enjoying the midday scenery. Several of the couples taking in the sights were Jedi as well, a sign of how lax the code had become with the revisions post-shattering.

"Understandable, I'm sure it was quite the journey. Hopefully our patrols didn't hold you up too long at the borders, I know that on occasion they can be a bit… Zealous. Please, follow me."

And with that she turned and started back towards the Citadel. The entire way back up the path the parasol remained over her, a slowly moving circle of shade that was necessary considering her complexion. Here and there a few stopped to greet her, mentions of lightsaber practice to be done at varying points throughout the day, to which she responded curtly and requested they find her later. As they came closer to the Citadel the murals began to come into focus, a series of scenes showing the founding of the new order, and the end of the last. A rebirth of sorts, through fire and battle. Cin Drallig was a prominent figure in the latter scenes, of his last stand on Coruscant.

"He's become a hero of sorts among the new republic, as I'm sure you've heard." Solace stated, walking past the mural and into the Citadel proper, glancing back to ensure he was behind her. "The Mandalorians consider him one of the Fallen Kings when the report of his last stand became public knowledge. It was him and a dozen temple guards who held the Jedi Temple until Grievous was forced to bombard it from orbit. From what we know, initially it was supposed to be captured, but the Confederacy couldn't even take the steps from Cin Drallig. Even the bombardment hadn't gained them the temple. He managed to survive that first and second turbolaser barrage through force body and tutaminis, standing in defiance and ready to give his last for the Republic and the Order."

"Then they glassed the entire block."

The main foyer of the Citadel loomed, a desk at the far end of the orange carpet and durasteel grey stone floors. At either side were chambers dedicated to public service, where the masters met with civilians and spoke at length of what it meant for their family to be force sensitive and how their life would change if they chose to be Jedi. That was one of those things that marked them as so different from the other orders. Only the Enclave made it a choice. She was about to comment further on the various murals and statues when they came upon the service desk where a few clerks sat.

"Ms. Alleron, is this our guest from the Shadow Council?"

"That is correct Andrade. Would you be so kind as to let Airus know that we'll be in the Imperial Room?"

A short back and forth later and they were once more on the move, only a short distance to the dedicated wing of the ground floor for their Imperial guests.

"I'll be honest with you Dra'kal, my forte is relegated almost entirely to talking people out of stabbing each other, or doing the stabbing myself. My part-, rather my colleague Airus Vel-Ath is about the best we have when it comes to holocrons, considering how few of the old archivists are left. When he heard about a biokeyed holocron, well… His excitement was palpable."

She said little else on that in particular, showing Dra'kal into a circular chamber that was typically used for meetings between the masters. It was suitable here as it held a large table in the center and featured a scanner suite with projectors. Especially useful when dealing with holocrons and sharing information.

"If you would sit it in the center of the table, we can have a look over it and see how best to proceed. Though it's incredibly likely that it will just go into the restricted section of the library to never be touched again. Except for the odd dare, you know the kind. Let's all head up to the spooky Sith holocron and see who might secretly have some dark ancestry."

Alanna

Interacting with @Athol

Alanna stepped out of the managers office and sighed deeply, partly from relief and partly from tiredness, but either way it was finally over. 13 years of service to MDY and all she got was a card, better than nothing she supposed but still. Taking her jacket off of its hook in the locker room she took a second to admire the printing on the back "Sienn Eswo" it read. A gift from her father to her mother long before Alanna was born. "Sienn" her mothers first name and Eswo was along the lines of "My beloved" when translated from Ryl to basic. Alanna thought it was all a bit cheesy, maybe that's why her mom always left it on the ship, but there was clearly love that had gone into it.

Stuffing her overalls into her backpack she left the locker room for what would hopefully be the final time and made her way through the halls of the Drive Yard towards the shuttle bay. In a perfect world Alanna should have been happy that she was leaving work and going home but in all honesty there was just too much going around her head for her to even smile at the thought. Between Jiari revealing that she was… gifted to the family at the twins 7th birthday and Firith whining that life wasn't fair because he could make the book move with his mind like his sister could, life wasn't exactly peaceful at home. And of course it was nearing that time of year again, a trip to Saleucami for her and Sable, though if Sable started on his wild conspiracy theory that it was her brother who sold them out to the Hutts then he would be turned off, maybe permanently, a thought she couldn't help but smile at.

As she walked past the droid workshop she sighed with relief at never having to put in another shift in that sweatshop, between the cramped conditions between the racks of droids or the very male dominated space in which she worked. Alanna entered the workshop to collect a few final things from her workbench but didn't intend to stay long, yet she couldn't help but find herself staring out the window which sat opposite the bench, watching as ships of all shapes and sizes flew past, it was almost like a tranceto her, even though if she stayed too much longer she might miss her shuttle.

Alanna was caught quite off guard by her Mirialan friend sneaking up on her. Gasp "Hey Ezali, you scared me there, I was in my own little world for a moment there. And 'Grumpy-bot' is probably…" Alanna looks down at her watch "Out yelling at the market vendors because their vegetables aren't up to his standards." Alanna smirked at that inage. "And anyway, you know he's not allowed on the ring, at least when I'm working and not able to supervise him, you remember what happened last time, he put construction of one of the mooring clamps back two weeks because he claimed he could do the job better than the construction droids."

"But I'm glad you're here anyway, I was just finishing and the shuttle leaves in like 10 so if you want a lift planetside you're more than welcome to catch a ride with me."

Dra'kal nodded silently as he proceeded to follow Solace into the temple. Other than a quick greeting to any who asked - let alone noticed - him, not a word emerged from the kaleesh's mouth. He was more concentrated regarding the environment around him, like a hunter observing the pasture for as far as the eye could see. His tirbal spirit had never left him completely, even after years of adapting to a more metropolitan life style. He'd never gotten completely used to the city-life truthfully. He missed traversing the vast wilderness and the thrill of an exhilarating hunt back on Kalee; with his life now replaced by static metal jungles and the boredom of convenience. It's only a few reasons as to why he'd never live in any galactic city. At least Ord Mantell supplied a decent geography for one to explore. And at least it retains some of her elemental purity.

Mandalore, in that respect, pales in comparison.

As they enter the front courtyard, Dra'kal could begin to decipher the row of murals the flanked their approach. It appeared to represent the history of the new jedi order, from its rise, to its destruction, and its rise again. It reminded the Kaleesh of a story his tribal elder had once told him. The Tale of the Starbird - a creature that when it seemed to be dead, could resurrect itself in the heart of a dying star, becoming reborn out of the resulting supernova. And amongst the personnel represented in the mural, there was one figure that the Kaleesh could recognize. Dra'kal stood still as he inspected the engraved being - a long haired man wielding a green lightsaber who lead his jedi brethren and sistren against seemingly overwhelming odds. Whilst he hadn't met this person in the flesh, nor his name at the time, live footage of the Coruscanti Temple Raid had reached his home planet and, amongst all the rubble, that jedi had always remained the spotlight of the battle. A true hero. Only once he joined the Inquisition was he told of his identity.

"This man," Dra'kal remarked as he pointed to the figure in green, "I recognize him. Cin Drallig, correct?"

The diplomat confirmed this as she proceeded to talk of the jedi master's legacy and how he defended the temple against even the harshest resistance. From surviving waves of battle droids, to two separate turbolaser bombardments, the resilient jedi master refused to surrender any ground belonging to the last bastion of the jedi. He was an immovable object against what essentially was an unstoppable force.

Or that was the case until Grievous ordered the entire block to be erased from orbit... and later the entire planet.

A ripple of pure anger wavered through Dra'kal's body. Even the mentioning of his name was enough to trigger painful memories of what had become of him. He struggled to restrain himself from going into a frenzy, with only his fists shaking violently in place. He recalled the last footage of the battle focus in on the hundred of thousands of dark specks in the sky, looming ominously in orbit. Panicked cries and screams to terror emanated from the masses below, before a blinding wave of red and green lights collided with the surface and the footage ceasing into static just moments later.

Taking a deep breath, the kaleesh managed to keep himself calm as he continued following the diplomat into the "Imperial Room". Solace mentioned how her colleague was excited to hear the arrival of the holocron that Dra'kal was carrying onboard.

"The Imperium had tried to open it for years." the kaleesh explained bluntly, "They've always boasted in housing the best experts in the galaxy... but alas, not even they could open this perplexing case. Thus they turned to your order for assistance, although even they seem to doubt in your capabilities."

Once they entered the room, Dra'kal was guided to sit in the center of the room and reveal the sith holocron. The kaleesh nodded before reaching into his robe and revealing it enwrapped in its curdely clothed sarcophagus. Using the force, he unraveled the casing to reveal the object's black and gold design illuminated by a harsh crimson glow before placing it on the table in front of Solace.

Mandalore, Keldabe hangar bay

She didn't understand her companions, the bounty was dead or alive, and a head is far easier to carry than a body. She'd merely lightened the load, only to be met with the raised voices of her now startled colleagues declaring her an animal. But that was then, and now she was being dropped onto Mandalore with no knowledge of the area, and very few credits with which to buy or barter.

They had assured her that they were being merciful by leaving her here and taking her share of the bounty back to Shili to leave with her people. She had accused them of being fair-weather warriors, foolish to think there was a difference between a dead mans body, and his head alone when hunting for pay. For the few days it had taken to get to this world none of them had taken their eyes off of her, as if her doing anything to spite them would get her anywhere, she needed them to fly the ship after all. But still they were suspicious of her every waking moment after that, refusing to even speak until they'd started gathering her things to throw her out.

"You'll find work, Mandalore is a busy place. Always somebody wanting somebody brought in." Trakai, another human, why are there so many humans in the galaxy.

"Hn. No contacts, can't afford to leave. I'm sure i'll do fine." she grumbled out, slinging her pack over her shoulder and resting her weight against her spear as she looked back into the ship, she had no idea whether her teammates felt any guilt over this or not, frankly it wasn't any of her concern, her new concern was finding a source of income to fund the tribe. She glanced up at another of the humans in her crew, this one was much darker skinned than Trakai, always, chewing on some candy or other, he was the groups leader.
"Your promise, maintain it or you will be my next hunt."

After a few tense moments, Adaahna felt the mans hand twitch for his blaster through her montrals, deciding it best to leave it at that and step off of the ramp of what had for a time been her home. The ramp immediately closing behind her.

Adaahna refused to watch the ship leave out of a partial desire to vent her spite, and partially to prepare herself to go into what to her seemed to be the most populated city she'd ever seen. Letting herself breathe out slowly before striding off into the crowd, intent on finding a new team and continuing the hunt.

It had been with a little bit of dumb luck and a fair bit more of educated guessing that Mor had found something that for better or worse resembled the bazaar of her home. A street that was given over to shops of all different sorts. Some had the scent of food and drink. Others were visited by the spaceships contraptions that helped to keep the ships together. Odd constructions she was hardly sure of, experience over the years had taught her to be wary of things that were not understood. Caution was the better part of valor and knowledge could only be gained if one was alive to gain it after all. Sniffing the air slightly, Mor'gann noted a fruity smell that was off enough to have to sidestep a large and eager looking man as he hurried through one of the metal doors. Noted a few less than scantily clad women within, Mor'gann continued on her curiosity sated and herself completely uninterested in the frolicking of fools.

The majority of the clamor was from the vendors. For every building given over to some practice or other, there were two handfuls of stalls with people hawking their wares right near the docks. For someone from the quite moon of Dxun, Mor'gann could feel the headache coming on. Yet she couldn't seem to see or hear enough. There were some of the strangest being selling apparently even more odd creatures that chittered or howled. Colors she had never seen and couldn't give a name to, metal twisted into tools that she could not even begin to guess their purpose. But she was not blind to the eyes that would watch her, nor was she letting her guard down as she was buffeted by the crowd. Oh, would that the market would be less crowded! As it was she was squeezing past a green and scaley man who was arguing with a pale man who had tails from his head. Their gestures wild and giving a bit of room about them as others stopped every so often to watch.

Finally breaking free of the crowd she found a man who had a stack of leathers and was working one into something or other. Mor'gann wasn't about to even try to guess. At least this was a chance to relieve herself of a few goods and gain perhaps something of more value to a pilot. This 'man' thankfully seemed to be mostly normal, til she got close enough to see the snout looking nose and the tusks. Thick grey hair and a beard to match, he looked as old as the shaman though in much better health. Setting her pack by her feet, she knocked on the pole that held up the overhang, a custom she well understood from her own planet. The strange creature looked up sharply, speaking in the language that was common among spacefarers. "Huh? What d'ya want?" The woman lifted the top of her back with a foot, revealing a few of the hides she had kept for her own trading outside from getting off Dxun. They were not the best, but they were decent enough she could get a pair of boots from them or a new tunic. "Hides... What from? They don't look in the best condition."

"Maalraas hides." Mor'gann stated in a cool voice. Her accent drawing out the 'l' and rolling the 'r'. A subtle thing. Had she not seen the tools first, she would have thought this... creature... as exactly that. A creature, but he was able to use the tools and speak. It startled and stunned the young woman, but she wasn't really in the place to argue.

"Maalraas? From Dxun?" He pronounced the moon as 'Dunx', causing Mor'gann to frown. Her lips thinning as she tried to work out the word. Giving it up to the strangeness of this entire place, she nodded sharply while reaching down and offering the top one over to the strange 'man'. Taking it the Ugnaught looked the leather over, whistling through his lips slightly. "Perhaps not a Maalraas in 'er prime, but one taken clean for the most part. Scales cleaned nicely. White too... Not often we see that." Mor'gann kept a politely neutral face as the creature seemed pleased with the leather. It had been from a younger Maalraas and it's pack. While she had been loath to kill the pack, her escape from Dxun had been the priority. Those moments when she had waited to strike she could recall well the legends of warriors who had tamed the beasts into loyal companions. Would that she had done the same, but there had never been the opportunity. To get a Maalraas pup she would have had to kill the pack and that would have left the pup exposed to the hardships of being an outcast of her village. Most likely her tormentors would find the pup while she tried to protect it and kill it. She had given up the dream as merely that.

Coming back to the present she raised a brow as the man commented with a bit of an apologetic note to his voice. Something she heard rarely outside of the farmers of Dxun when she had traded with them. "I can offer you Fourty-five credits for each skin if they are all as good as this." She considered the number. 'Fourty... five... Five and four'. It was more than what the traders would have given her at Dxun. Nodding she frowned as she picked up the remaining four, setting aside the last red one for her own use. Perhaps it was vanity but she enjoyed the leather of Maalraas. "One Hundred and Eighty then." The odd pink man nodded, turning about to rummage pulling out a small chest and piling a small stack of metal next to it. Each marked with a number and some being in different colors. It was odd to say the least. Mor'gann was used to the bartering of Dxun, this was far apart from that. Sighing, she patiently waited for the man to finish his business. Her yellow eyes scanning the market as she waited, her hides drapped over one hand. It had been some luck that she had found the man, and he was giving her a decent enough price. Now there was the question of what to do after she had the money?

That proved easy enough as hide and ingots were exchanged and Mor'gann set about wandering the market once more. The lure of food proving the temptation this time. Though which food would be passable. Some of the things looked less than palable, while others looked edible. The problem being communication as she had no idea what they were, and she sure as hell did not want to order a tastey bit of meat and get one of those twisted looking slugs. She had eaten her share of questionable things on Dxun, but she was drawing the line at slugs Mor'gann decided as she watched a four-handed, spindly-legged creature with fangs in its mouth slap a wriggling eel onto a board. Chopping it up before slipping it into a flat wrap of what looked like a type of plant before handing it to the buyer. While watching her side twinged from the slice she had gained from her assassination of the guards of the relic. Rubbing it absently, she shoved that to the side as well. It was a minor wound, one that would heal with time. Which apparently she had plenty of. She just needed to decide on some supper.

Ila inhaled slowly. She focused on the world around her, not immediate surroundings, but the universe at large: nature, life, sentience, the Force making it all possible. She focused on the Force, moving everything into place as it needed to be for life and the universe to be as it was, how it would continuously flow through everything, including herself. Finally, she focused on herself, her connection to the force, its control of her, and her requests of it, she focused on... the loneliness of meditating completely on her own.

Ila drooped, letting out her breath all at once. She'd been meditating on her own here for way too long, locked away in a back meditation room with not even a fly nearby. I don't think anyone would mind if I meditated in a more public area as long as I was out of the way. If I say it's to practice keeping out distractions, maybe they'll respect it even more and not bother asking me to move again. She flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling, Or maybe I could convince someone else to meditate with me... or spar?

Suddenly, the door to the meditation room opened, causing Ila to put up a hand, "Sorry, you can use this meditation room. I'm having trouble in here anyway." As the other person, some Miraluka girl she'd never heard of or met, began to thank her, she rolled back up into a sitting position and stood up. "Don't worry about it. Unless you want to try group meditation, it's all yours." She gave a quick smile and wave, walking past the Miraluka. With the door shutting and cutting her off from the most interaction she'd had all day, she inhaled again, feeling a little better to even have had that brief interaction. Alright Ila, let's go find at least one person to practice something with. Maybe one of the knights or sages? I'm pretty sure they'd be eager to test a potential padawan of theirs.

Wandering out into the main halls of the temple, Ila saw a parasol, red dress, and (albeit a second individual) a stranger with a white mask. The stranger, the fancy clothing, and who they were talking with made them clearly on official business of some sort, and definitely not free for any training. Unfortunate, but if the girl in the red dress was who Ila expected, probably no different than the norm anyway. That woman seemed busy beyond belief. But seeing her made her think of another option, one a little more potentially free.

Ila took her time heading towards the library, enjoying the feeling that came with knowing there were a number of people in the area, rather than just walls. Finally finding herself in the library, she linked her hands behind her back taking in the library's resources for a moment, and preparing to act somewhat official while speaking with the one she came to ask for some sparring. After a short search and a quick breath, she found Airus near the Holocron vaults. "Master Airus. Could you spar with me if you're free? I don't have very much to do while I wait for assignment." She gave a quick bow as she asked her request.

Xarthas swore as he felt the entire ship shake, as he pulled himself out from underneath the console he saw as the stars came back into focus as the ship reverted to real space. In the distance, he could see the planet Mandalore, and his home Concordia orbiting the bustling world. From what he was told it had nothing on what Coruscant once was, but it was certainly busier now than it ever had been, at least as far as he could remember. "Chuckles!" The droid rolled in, beeps coming forth from the small astromech as it complained about being pulled from its important work. Xarthas raised a hand to stop the lines of droid speak, which were starting to get more and more into the realm of expletives. Chuckles had to do as he said, but he made it clear that he didn't like it. He pointed once the little droid finished speaking. "I swear, as soon as I can find it you're getting a new personality matrix, but for now what in haran just happened?"

The droid rolled its head out of frustration. "Yes I know we dropped out of hyperspace, but we were meant to be in hyperspace for another three hours! I've not got the communications back up yet." The droid turned and left as it continued to beep. "What do you mean you fixed the broken compressor!?" Xarthas threw a hydrospanner after the droid cursing as he saw a light blinking on the main console. No doubt Keldabe trying to initiate contact with his ship, finding out who he was and what he wanted. The issue was the communication system had been knocked out in a... disagreement with CIS border forces and the droid should have prioritized the repair of those systems as with the political climate of most of the galaxy flying towards a capital in radio silence wasn't a good way to stay flying. Xarthas swore as he ducked back under the console, pulling at wires he shrugged as he grabbed two of them. He stuck them together with mere electrical tape as he sat up in his chair and hit the comm button

[..."REPEAT. This is Keldabe ATC, this is your final warning. Respond now or you will be towed into the nearest dock then board-"]

"This is the Nightfury, Captain Xarthas at the helm. Clan Den, House Kryze. Sorry for the radio silence there, having some system errors." There was a beep at the back of the cockpit as Chuckles decided to re-enter the conversation, Xarthas shot daggers at the astromech as it accused the ship of [i]always[/i having system errors. “Requesting passage to Concordia to the Clan Den enclave. I come from away.”

“Permission granted. Follow the flight plan exactly, do not stray towards the ring or we’ll intercept with tug vessels.”

Xarthas sighed as he hit the button to send his response. “Copy that, Nightfury out.” In the years since they had started building the ring and had established Keldabe ATC things had gotten far more strict in the Mandalore system. As the ship swung around to Concordia it shook slightly as the vessel broke through the atmosphere. Creaking slightly as the hull became heated and shook as the Repulsors fought against gravity. Guiding it delicately the ship swung into the Den Enclave. Landing on the outskirts he could see the variety of craft that belonged to the clan. Two Z-95s sat in the pride space of the hangar right beside the enclave proper, Xarthas smiled slightly as he saw the craft. While many of the craft sat around the enclave belonged to people who were off doing their duty to Mandalore on the ring helping its construction or building ships,

As he walked down the ramp Chuckles wheeled up behind him, he turned around and raised hi shadn at the droid. “Nope. You have systems to fix.” As the droid started to curse him in binary Xarthas just shook his head. “Don’t start with me. It’s your fault I never managed to get around to finishing the repairs by deciding to fix the compressor which was way down on the list. You just wanted to get back here as I promised to have you cleaned up. Well, now you can finish making sure the ship is fully operational before any work is done.” The droid turned around, cursing as it went.

An old man with a familiar face within the Mandalore Republic came walking towards him, wearing the white armour of a Clone, though these days it had greyed and dirtied with age. Yellow emblem on his shoulder pauldrons, kill marks started on his right shoulder and went all the way down his arm with confirmed kills. Oddball, in the distance Xarthas could see Hawk working on his Z-95 and he waved. “Welcome back Xarthas!” Oddball opened his arms and embraced the younger man in a hug.

“Ba’vodu. What are you doing here?”

“The Chief is on the ring to celebrate the founding. He asked me and Hawk to come back and manage the clan in his absence, we’re thinking about taking some of the children up in some old Arc-170s. Show them how the Open Circle used to do it back in the day.”

“I don’t know if I’m more surprised that those ships still fly, or that you still do.”

The two of them turned to walk towards the mass of buildings that made up the enclave, Oddball punching his shoulder. “That’s a lot of cheek coming from you, flying around in that old tub.”

“That old tub is faster than your old fighters, I’ve made a lot of special modifications myself.”

“It’s a mess.”

“I have a system.”

The two of them chuckled, as they walked into the enclave. A decade ago this had been a bustling hub of activity as members of the clan had returned from all over the Galaxy at the Mandalores call. However many had moved on, some had joined the navy as instructors and squadron leaders. Others had went to MandalMotors with their vast engineering knowledge and expertise to build systems and ships to increase Mandalores strength, before Xarthas had ventured out into the Galaxy the Navy had sought after to recruit him. Now officially they couldn’t hire him since he was a wanted criminal in Separatist Space. It would be a little bit of a controversy to hire him. A group of children ran out.

“Xarthas is back!”“Hey look guys its Xarthas!”“Hey Xarthas where's Chuckles?”“Did you see any separatists?”“Get in any big fights?””Did you see the Hapan Battledragon?! I hear there’s one in orbit right now!””Have you ever fought a Lucrehulk?!””What is General Grevious like?!”

Oddball laughed. “That’s enough Children, let the man breathe and get some space.”

Xarthas raised his hand and placed it on Oddballs shoulder. “It’s okay ba’vodu. I always have time for the ade. After all they are the next generation of elite pilots.” Walking over he sat on a nearby crate. “Okay, let me have it.”