Diplomacy Is Overrated On Ando Prime

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

Ando Prime was cold.

It wasn't as cold as Hoth or Illum, he would guess, but it was still a damned cold place and that could not be overstated. Right now they were still on-board his shuttle and the heating was still on - something that Castor was taking advantage of for now. Still, he had his Jedi armor on and he was wrapping a thick cloak on over the top to keep warm.

Once he was finished he handed his shoto saber, once again, over to Nikka.

"We really need to get you one of your own."

He didn't really have any issues with lending Nikka his shoto saber (it was actually a decent length on her actually) and she didn't seem to have any resistance from it so he wasn't going to say anything before but he was beginning to notice his saber was spending more time in her hands than his own - which was bad!

Kind of.

"Alright now Short Stuff, you bundled up?" he asked her with a frown, "This place is colder than Andraste's Nipples and the people will be rough as hells, alright? Don't challenge anyone but if they challenge you?"

He grimaced slightly.

"You can't back down - or they'll kill you."

@Killa Ree

 

[Nikka Toren]

Kriff, but it was freezing.

She had been to Ilum twice, and both times the cold was awful. She had been on many planets and moons, where it was hot enough to steam a dianoga, and humid enough to bathe with clothes on. But no matter where she went, the icy cold would never, ever be a perfect adjustment. Even Ord Mantell was better than this mess. But when Castor called her Short Stuff—for the third time in the last half-hour—she had barely restrained giving him a very unprofessional side kick.

She had pulled her thermal suit and gloves on long before they had even arrived; her padded pilot’s suit was tweaked, the synthleather duster pulled over and her boots laced tightly. She had even changed her veil; in lieu of the traditional bandage she had worn ever since her discovery on Bothawui, she instead wore something that she had purchased on Gizer with the talkative charmer Cessair Darkrose.

A face covering of dark green, and edged with black in a strange design. Cutting across her delicate features, it would have given her an almost authoritative air, if it weren’t for the wry cut to her lips. Clipping the short saber to her belt, a chuckle parted from her lips at the thought of a battle. “Fight me, huh?” she grinned up at him, the brows arching mischievously. “I won’t issue any challenge. I’ve met my fair share of Deucalians before.” Her mind skipped over to a rough-and-ready smuggler pirate she had met very briefly in the Bothawui hangar, and how they had shared drinks after she had repaired his droid. She often wondered what happened to that young man… and there was Uhtred.

She hesitated at the thought. She had been successful on her first trip to Ilum; when they were done with diplomacy, she would meet her Master aboard his latest addition to their happy clan and obtain her second. She already knew what her design would be, and what she would bring with her in their next firefight.

“I never back down from a conflict, Ni’chalto. Especially if I’ve got to drag you out of it again.” The smirk widened, as she drew the hood over her head and squared her shoulders.

“Right. Ready when you are, Tall One.”

@Nefieslab

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

Castor looked back at her for a moment before reaching out and touching the edge of her face covering, gently. It was one he hadn't seen her wearing before and it was something he felt the need to comment on for a moment.

"This is new." He observed with a small smile, "It looks good on you, Nikka. Makes you look distinguished."

He knew that Nikka had met at least as many Deucalians as he had and he was hoping that neither of them got themselves challenged but he would admit that it was probably not going to be up to them. Ignoring her return teasing with a roll of his eyes that she would miss, he opened the ramp to his shuttle and the cold got in.

Almost immediately he wished they could stay on the ship but he knew that wasn't possible. Instead they needed to get their arses in gear and get to the meeting that had been set up.

Stepping out into the snow, Castor led the way to the guard post that separated the landing area from the main settlement itself. He raised a hand in greeting as he stepped up.

"Hello - I am the Jedi known as Castor and this is the Jedi known as Nikka."

There was no point in hiding what they were now that the entire Galaxy knew that the Jedi had returned.

"We're here to meet with the elders."

The guards just stared blankly and Castor sighed a little bit, mentally preparing for having to use the mind trick to get past the guards if Nikka didn't have any luck either.

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Nikka Toren]

She tilted her head in surprise at the veil being touched, perking a brow at her. What, was it a funny shade? Did she look strange in it? It wasn't exactly as if she could run up and catch a reflective surface; perhaps it did look strange. Too late to care anyhow; when it was cold enough to even take her breath away, it was no time to fuss about details. Besides, the race they were about to face were not ones of intense personal ornate detail; at least, from what she felt before... then again, it had been a good five years ago. Much could change in five years.

She strode out after him. Oddly enough, the cold was just enough to clear her mind of any doubts or inner thoughts. She wouldn't even give anyone the benefit of seeing her shiver, though she did clench her jaw out of sheer stubborn will. Not even icy winds were going to knock her out of her stern mindset.

But when they came to the entrance requested and none were forthright, she realized one of two things: either they had never heard of the Jedi... or they did not understand the Basic addressed to them. Some did not travel the galaxy after all. But there was a nudge of feeling from Cas; perhaps he intended to persuade them, something even she was not quite comfortable using. She could, but not willingly. Instead, she stepped beside her companion, her voice ringing clearly in the only Deucalian language she knew.

"Tilgi oss. Take us to your leaders. We have been summoned."

Sometimes, there were moments it was handy to have travelled most of her growing years. Sometimes... she wasn't certain whether or not she actually said something, or accidentally gave them a challenge. They would find out... wouldn't they?

@Nefieslab @Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

"I'd heard strangers were coming", Uhtred said, approaching from behind the Deucalian guards. "By Svartur's burning arsehole, you're the best they could spare?"

Openly, Uhtred smiled and laughed, walking past the guards that stood as stoically as ever. Placing a firm hand on both of their shoulders, Uhtred spoke more quietly to the duo.

"You are here with purpose, and more importantly, you were summoned directly. Do not ever apologize for it. They will think you weak-willed, and they will certainly not respect you for it. But regardless... it is always good to see familiar faces", Uhtred remarked, glancing towards Nikka. "And... somewhat-familiar words."

Uhtred was actually impressed. Nikka's words rang true, although her accent was heavy and the dialect she'd apparently learned was something of an offshoot; understandable, but it screamed outsider. Deucalians might not have been xenophobic, but these days they were far from hospitable to strangers. The reception the two Jedi had received wasn't surprising; they Deucalians understood Castor and Nikka. Problem was, they just didn't care.

"Þessar utanaðkomandi eru undir vernd Öldungar", Uhtred said, turning around to face the guards, who had narrowed their eyes, both at Uhtred and the two Jedi. "En þá vissirðu það þegar, ekki satt?"

Without another word, Uhtred walked between the guards, who still neither moved nor spoke, and motioned for both Castor and Nikka to follow him. The guards would neither help nor speak to the two Jedi, but they wouldn't get in their way, either. It wouldn't have remained a secret, but Uhtred had honestly wished they hadn't been so open about being Jedi. Like seemingly everyone else in the galaxy, the Deucalians as a whole had a complicated perception of the Jedi Knights; mostly a negative one, at that. But then, the same was once true for the Sith too, and history already knows how that had changed. These were, indeed, interesting times.

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

Ha.

Seemed that there was no need to use the Force or other persuasion methods on the guards because they had something that neither of them had expected; they had Uhtred Wardruna. He smiled a little bit and clapped Uhtred on the shoulder in return, noting how the guards shifted slightly in place as they began to realize that the two Jedi were, indeed, called to meet here and that they were not supposed to delay them.

Let them sweat for all he cared.

"You knew I'd see you again at least Uhtred." he joked with a smirk, "I believe I owe you two or three drinks don't I? Of course I did most of the work so maybe you owe me?"

Following Uhtred, Castor spotted that one of the guards was moving so that he would block his path again. Castor inwardly sighed before increasing his pace, shoulder checking the guard and sending him sprawling to the ground. The guard growled and glared up at him but Castor just raised an eyebrow.

"Careful - the ice can be slippery."

The other guard snorted in amusement and the first one glared at his fellow, letting Castor continue without issue. As they marched through the settlement, Castor spoke again to Uhtred.

"Uhtred - you know why we're here?" He asked his ally with a raised eyebrow, "We would be well served having a local lending their weight to our words. Will you attend?"

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Nikka Toren]

A smirk cut across her lips, brows lifting. "I may have met one or two like you in the past, Uhtred," she said with a wry trace of amusement. "Perhaps one day you may teach me some more of your wonderful linguistics. I know a bit more, but they are a bit too.. ah... personal to use for a meeting such as this."

She swallowed the chuckle when the first guard slipped. She could feel the heat of the glare even from here, as the other guard hid a laugh at the other's expense.

She had to increase her stride to keep up with the two males; being smaller had a few disadvantages, but she would never admit as much. "I was the one all for stealth," she muttered, teasingly giving Castor a slight nudge to his side. "But of course not. And how well-known is our arrival? I have the feeling our arrival might not be so welcoming as the two we just met."

Again, she thought of Ivar. Some memories just wouldn't fade with time... perhaps, if she was lucky, she would meet someone within these clans that knew him, and find whether he was alive or not. If so, she had much to catch up on with him. It had been too long. She smirked wider at Cas's mention of drinks. "Ah, yes. He owes us both drinks. And having you in our corner will surely mean much to our purpose."

@Nefieslab @Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

The walk through the settlement on Ando Prime was uneasily quiet. Tension was thick in the air, but then, it always ways. Some areas of the city were still in near-ruins, others were fully repaired, but it was still heavy air all around. Indeed, the most talking in the vicinity that Uhtred could hear was coming from the guests alongside him, as opposed to the residents.

"I can't say for sure how well known your arrival is, I'd only found out about it a day ago. Some had known for quite a bit longer. Talk between clans isn't free-flowing. The Elders might be more open to you, but don't expect to be welcomed. You might have noticed there's a lot of tension around here—sorry to say it, but things would be a lot simpler to say you're the reason for it. Neither side will want to show weakness by being receptive to outsiders, much less Jedi."

Uhtred didn't know how much Castor and Nikka knew about the Deucalian civil war, but the fact was that half of these people grew up with the other half as their enemies. There might have been a truce in effect now, but a few years of ceasefire didn't take away bitterness. Truth of the matter was, half the people in this city were generational blood-enemies with the other half since the time of their great-great-grandfathers. A call of a truce didn't just make that brand of hate go away.

"Fortunately, I will be able to attend. This is not a Moot for debates and negotiations between Jarls, this is more like a... public assembly. I'm no Jarl, nor one of the Warlords, so I can't say for certain how much weight my voice will carry, but I will lend you my voice if anyone doubts you."

And they would. Suspicion and distrust was part of it, of course, but the House of Odin and the House of Radegast have been competing in a war of succession for the past three hundred years, almost incessantly. With the Elders of Clan Alemanii and Clan Thorite here now, the respective leaders of the last two Deucalian houses, this was as much a matter of internal posturing and politics as it was diplomatic foreign policy.

"Here we are", Uhtred said stopping as he looked up at the Great Hall, which basically served as the city's capitol. This was the first time in... Uhtred didn't even know how long since it had been used. With all the clans in civil war, it had basically served no purpose. But even now, with the doors sealed, Uhtred could hear the attendees insides.

"Don't look down, look straight ahead. If you're looked in the eye, meet it", Uhtred said, suppressing an urge to grin at the irony as he glanced to Nikka. "If you're challenged, rise to it. If you're doubted by anyone lesser than those that summoned you here, ignore them; their opinions do not matter, and you would only empower them by concerning yourselves with what they say. Chances are, they are only seeking to use you to gain political clout anyway. Oh...", Uhtred said, stopping himself from opening the doors to grinningly glance back at the Jedi duo again. "...and try the styrkur."

Uhtred pulled a heavy leaver, and with the creaking of the massive weight behind the doors, the stone slabs slid open, revealing a large hall of feasting, predictably split in two sides, one for each of the factions, complete with a dedicated sparring ground, and musicians playing near the open fire pits, where game had been skinned and was cooking on a huge spit. And of course, barrels and barrels of Deucalian mead. It was almost enough to remind a warrior of the good old days they could now have only read about.

"The Elders are sitting at the far end of the Great Hall. You're up", Uhtred said, extending his hand toward the Great Hall, inviting them inside.

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

The settlement wasn't a place that Castor would come to under normal circumstances it had to be said. There was a tension in the air thick enough for a knife to have trouble slicing through he would swear. The people here felt their emotions strongly and acted on them freely - it was almost close to the Sith, if only different in one major regard; the people of this settlement didn't use their emotions and act on them for personal gain or power.

They acted on them because they believed that it was their right to enjoy their freedom of expression and thought however they pleased. It was a simplistic point of view and one that would mean any Deucalian was going to have major issues becoming a Jedi but it was something easy and simple that could be respected in a way.

Castor took a deep breath before stepping into the Great Hall. Nodding to Uhtred, he patted his ally on the back.

"We will." he agreed, "After business is concluded."

Marching across the hall with purpose, Castor spoke directly to Nikka, into her mind, via the Force.

'Are you ready? Be mindful of the Force but remember what we know of these people.'

There were four clan leaders at separate tables near the back of the Hall, engaged in what could charitably be called a debate. It was less of an ordered debate and more of a fistfight waiting to happen however. Knowing that he was going to draw the ire of all four of the clan leaders, Castor drew the Force to himself and stepped forwards to stand in the middle of the assembled clan leaders.

They argued around him, barely acknowledging his existence.

Castor lashed out with the force, cracking the stone floor beneath his feet with the blast that stopped all conversation for a second as everyone in the Hall turned to look at him and Nikka.

"Castor Volante." he announced loudly, almost defiantly, "I am here to speak to the heads of the Deucalian clans on behalf of the Galactic Alliance. I am here to discuss an alliance. I am not here to be ignored and I will not stand for it - myself and my partner were summoned at your convenience and we are here. We do not present ourselves as your servants so do not ignore us as you would your servers. Now..."

He met each of their gazes.

"Do we have your attention?"

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Nikka Toren]

She smirked at Uhtred's comments about meeting eyes, raising her brows. "Right, I'll just get started," she commented wryly before they entered.

She was aware of the massive space, and of the clear division between members. Perhaps food and drink offered only a temporary reprieve from the civil wars, but even she wasn't immune to the sheer amount of thinly-covered tension in the air. She had dealt with drunken Mando'a before; facing down a great hall full of armed warriors, though not the same, reminded her of that familiar feeling where she would not let them see anything of her.

If she had eyes to roll, she would have at Castor. You forget, I've dealt with them before. But there was a feeling of a mischievous smile tacked with that thought; her eyebrows arched only slightly, to show how she truly felt. But at the mention of drinks, even if it might have been pure grog, caused the veil to lift slightly at the corners, as if she had smiled, before it swiftly vanished into a stony, cold expression.

All mental walls were suddenly slammed up, her emotions masked to a tight leash of control. But when Castor had cracked the floor, she allowed the stone chips to suspend around them, thin sharp shards of stone to hover briefly before setting them down. When he said his name, she said hers, coldly, coolly, "Nikka Toren."

She allowed her sightless face to settle on each figure of Light in turn. There was little else she could say that he hadn't already, but she was prepared in case something happened. And around him, something always seemed to happen.

She felt strength pooling into her palms. Warm, familiar, the Light Side had always been there to answer to her call, and she held it, waiting for a response from their summoners.

She never did not face down a challenge. Especially if drink was promised afterwards.

@Nefieslab @Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

As Castor spoke, Uhtred had to suppress the reflexive urge to burst out in laughter. The Deucalians were not a complicated people, this was true, but Uhtred had honestly not expected the Jedi to have acclimated to his people's forward and blunt ways so easily. From Uhtred's experience in Imperial Republica, the Sith and Imperials there tended to be overly cunning in their words, using subtle speech to hide or disguise what they're implying to say. It was like they fought intellectually, trying to outsmart the other in conversation. Among Deucalians, such mannerisms couldn't have been more opposite, and with Castor's origins, Uhtred did indeed have doubts.

Suffice to say, he didn't anymore.

The Elders, or Öldungar, held a position of honor, respect and authority that rivaled any chieftain. In fact, times of old showed that in some cases, it wasn't unusual for the Elders to be the true power behind a clan. This was especially so when dealing with the Göfugir, the collective term for the "highborn" clans of the Deucalians. And as fortune would have it, it was the Elders of the Göfugir that sat beyond the Jedi... or at least, what was left of them.

The first to turn their head was a man with a scarred face, vein-streaked face. Spectacles were worn over his hardened and almost seafoam-green eyes, and a trimmed beard adorned his stoic and stern face. Of all gathered at the table, he looked the least-like the stereotypical Deucalian, and instead appeared as a sharp-minded, if coldly-projected thinker or intellectual. And indeed, all of his ilk held that reputation. He was Durinn, Elder of Clan Friscii.

The next was a man with long white hair and a long, unkempt beard. Disheveled and almost ragged in appearance, he looked almost like a vagabond, but with a face that brimmed with such nurtured pride, none that looked him in the eye could be mistake him for a beggar. While all Deucalians always held their weapons on them, this man's weapon was out of its sheathe and stabbed into the ground, a lognsword with the image of a red dragon, Ánlögun no doubt, engraved near the hilt. It was only fitting that he was Nerthus, Elder of Clan Baldr.

Third was a woman, almost grand in appearance, above the rest. Her eyes were softer and filled with a confidence of superiority, her face seemingly unhardened, but with the wisdom and experience brought about by age. However, she held a gaze that was chillingly powerful and focused like an edge, and an expressionless, emotionless face that projected callosity and a ruthless determination. And above the others she was; Vaelaria, Eldress of Clan Alemanii.

The last was a man with a strong gaze but unmoved expression on his face. Atop his forehead was a tattoo, representative of one that had succeeded in a significant trial of some sort in memorable fashion; perhaps signifying he once accomplished something remarkable at a young age, many decades ago. He had long gray hair, almost silver in appearance, tied up, and a beard that grew long, but was cleaned and formal, worn as a testament of his age and wisdom. By comparison to the others, he appeared the most simple and least assuming. So it has ever been with those of his clan; Urdur, Elder of Clan Thorite.

Once, there were five clans that made up the Göfugir, but with Clan Valkaria being near-eradicated, only these four remained, leaders of their war-ravaged society. Even as the stríðshvíld, the "war-rest", officially established an armistice in the ongoing civil war, everyone knew it was temporary; there were no new friends here. Only old enemies; Vaelaria of Clan Alemanii and Durinn of Clan Friscii were joined in the House of Odin, and still saw the House of Radegast as their bitter rivals and enemies. And Urdur of Clan Thorite, together with Nerthus of Clan Baldr, bound to the House of Radegast, felt the same resentment towards the House of Odin.

But if there was one thing that all had in common at that particular moment, it was that their gazes, either impassively, indignantly or curiously, turned toward Castor Volante, and his peer, Nikka Toren.

"That's definitely one way to make an entrance", Uhtred murmured under his breath, grinning subtly. The music still played, and the sparring across the way continued, but the ambient conversations began to hush all around.

"If you wanted our attention, strák, you had better brought more than bold words and a loose tongue", said Nerthus, the Elder of Clan Baldr, who appeared to be both sneering and amused at Castor's brazenness.

"Eins og ef ættin þín hefur nokkurn tíma haft neitt meira", Vaelaria Alemanii remarked, without ever bothering to look in Nerthus' direction.

"Öfugt við ættin þinn, hver licked stígvélum Sith sem hefur skaðað okkur alla?!", Nerthus Baldr yelled back in retaliation.

"Það var val forfeðra okkar að byggja upp bandalag, en þitt er sammála hryðjuverkum, þeir sömu sem hafa flutt okkur!", Durinn Friscii yelled toward Nerthus, slamming his fist down onto the table. "Og þú furða hvers vegna þú átt aftur á bak við ættkvíslarsnið innan frá?!"

"Nóg!", yelled Urdur Thorite, booming his voice as he glared at his peers, before turning to glance impassively at Castor and Nikka. Urdur exhaled so forcefully, it sounded almost akin to a mechanical hiss. "You come here to speak? Then we will speak."

"Will we, then?", Durinn Friscii mocked. Immediately, Urdur slammed his fist onto the table, denting it. At the same time, Vaelaria gently lifted her hand to Durinn, motioning him to cease his provocation. Even as he acquiesced, Durinn simply glared furiously toward Urdur Thorite, barely giving any attention to their guests.

Bara einn stór hamingjusamur fjölskylda..., Uhtred mused to himself, ever-so-slightly shaking his head. If there was one thing his people could always be depended on, it was on making great first impressions.

"So you have our attention", Vaelaria Alemanii said, visibly unimpressed with the two Jedi. "Speak then. Your betters spoke of an alliance, but they said nothing of why we should even consider it. And to convince us, they send two Jedi. One that barks, and one that scarcely has a tongue?"

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

Castor stood there for a moment as he watched the leaders of the Deucalian people begin to bicker and fight amongst themselves. He had caught their attention but even now they argued, even if it seemed that they were arguing more about his entrance than about whatever ancient grudges they had been arguing about in the past. He shared a glance with Nikka... or the mental, Force-based equivalent of one anyway, considering his little shoulder gremlin was entirely sightless.

In the end, the clan leaders finally decided that they had had enough of fighting each other to actually ask what the Galactic Alliance could actually offer. Of course, these being Deucalians, there was a bid to speak, a shorter argument, followed by a final demand for the Jedi to actually speak.

Looking around pointedly to make sure that no one was going to interject as they had the last time, Castor spoke again, hands clasped behind his back.

"We come here to offer you an alliance against the Sith Empire." he announced, continuing before anyone could interject, "We offer increased prosperity, both short term and long term. We offer you a chance to stand on the right side of history. The Sith Empire is reeling and the Sith Empire is crumbling."

Durinn interjected here.

"And yet this crumbling Empire still outnumbers your alliance, even including the Mandalorians, by millions to one. You speak as though the Galactic Alliance can win the day when there are obstacles numbering in the millions to overcome first."

Vaelaria made a grunt of agreement, even while the others didn't seem to be moved at all. Deucalians of lower positions were listening and Castor knew enough to speak to his audience.

"Millions who do not want war." he countered, "Millions who want nothing to do with war, millions who do not lift a finger when their worlds are invaded! When their cities are bombed into oblivion! Do you fear millions of cowards, Öldungar Durinn?"

The elder narrowed his eyes at Castor before nodding in acceptance of the point well played by the Jedi. No Elder would argue for fearing cowards after all. Vaelaria spoke up this time.

"Durinn spoke of something I wish to bring speak of... the Mandalorians." she spat the name, "Why should we ally with them? They who shamed us? Hunted and fought us? Why should we stay our blades from their throats? And before you speak once more, Laglegur drengur, I would hear your örkumaður answer me."

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Nikka Toren]

All right. So they wanted to play hard, and mock the blind girl?

She wasn't new to this. But hearing the Deucalian tossed back and forth brought up an old pain; it brought up the parting of Ivar, and his abrupt disappearance. She squared her shoulders, her voice amplified by the sudden channeling. Her voice rang hard, as cold as the winds that howled outside and as tense as steel; they wanted to hear her speak? Fine. But she wasn't going to sit there mutely, and take them arguing like a pack of wild dogs.

"Úlfurinn sem talar minnst í veiði fær stærsta bráðið.." At first, she spoke. Her hands were clasped before her, as if contemplating, but she had been contemplating her words for a very long time. The words rolled off her tongue as if they were familiar, as if she had heard and spoke them often. "I assume you of your Council know," one hand waved to address the table, "But to those unfamiliar to the phrase, it was spoken often by one of your kind, that I was once very close to. It applies to those that howl the loudest." Her eyeless gaze was heavy, as if there was pure judgement and something was lacking.

"I know your history."

Her voice was unyielding now. Castor had his turn; now she had hers. Even if she was a cripple... such a word burned in her throat like gall. Oh yes, she knew that word all too well. It was a nickname, a hard one due to her ability. And yet, she was calm. Deceivably so. There was no expression in that mouth, in her body language.

"I know you were warriors. You struck fear into the hearts," here, her fist knocked against her chest, "of those that traveled in space. You were beautiful in the art of power. But your ambitions killed you. They still do." Here, she deliberately turned her face to those of the council each, as if weighing each of them. She knew they each lauded a term of respect. But she was here to not be gentle, but blunt and hard.

"And yet... I see a council afraid of those that have forgotten you. Those who would be content to snuff you and your history out of existence!" Here, she took a step forward. The stone groaned beneath her feet, as if something stressed it. Her hands flexed. "After our alliance is concluded, you may do as you like with Mandalorians," she said the name with a certain distaste, knowing that the very name was something that struck an ugly chord with them. "But when warriors fight against a common enemy, do they not retain their reputation? Their honor of spilling blood against an enemy that has pinned them to the furthest corners of the galaxy?"

"After all, what coward stríðsmenn would strike those who give their backs to you in battle?"

Here, she planted her feet, arms lightly crossed beneath her bust. "I may not see much, Öldungar, but we stand here to give you your greatest chance." Her voice carried through the hall, hard and ringing like ice shivered by a wampa's bellow. "Your chance to remind the galaxy what it is to be a Deucalian. What it means to fear seeing ása raised high in battle."

She ripped off her veil, showing the heavy scars that crossed over her eye sockets. Even without eyes, her Sight was hard, pinning every member down. "What it means to war, and remind them that every myth about you is real. Or am I wrong?" This was said deliberately calmly once more, stepping back with her hands before her, smoothing the veil over her eyes once more with that hard set to her lips once more.

She wasn't going to take them sitting down any more. They wanted to hear of war? She was ready to talk war.

@Nefieslab @Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

"Hvað eru þeir að ræða núna?"

"Eitthvað um Heimsveldið."

"Heimsveldið? Hefur þetta eitthvað að gera við þá Alemanii hund-?"

"Svartur rass, vildi þú fá út af leiðinni þegar?", Uhtred impatiently whispered, sticking his curved horn to the nearby spigot.

A group of Deucalians, probably aligned to the House of Radegast, judging from the tone of their conversation, were holding their own private conversation about the developing spectacle. Normally, Uhtred couldn't have cared if he'd tried, but they had the questionable foresight of planting themselves right in front of the nearest barrel of mead. They could murmur all they wanted, but everyone in both-knew you never got between a Deucalian and the skyrkur.

Uhtred gulped his mead, but desired it only because he never imagined the duo playing to the strengths and weaknesses of Deucalian society so sufficiently. Deucalians living in the Imperial Republica were a neutered lot, more likely to have assimilated than embraced who they were; point being, it was a poor model to base their society on. And that was even supposing Imperials saw Deucalians as anything more than a dead culture within their borders. On the other hand, Uhtred hadn't known Nikka had known other Deucalians personally. The Miraluka were, by his reckoning, a soft bunch, more occupied with thoughts of harmony or peace than with conquest or martial prowess. Her firsthand knowledge would give her a sharp advantage in her opening words, where first impressions accounted for a great deal.

"BWAHAHAHA!", came the boisterous laughter, straight from Nerthus Baldr, as Castor inquired if Durinn feared conscripts, cowardly soldiers that did not even seek to do battle. As opposed to being a strategic move, a sign of belittlement toward the Elder of Clan Friscii, this laughter appeared genuine. "Even an outsider breaks the brittle words you argue with!"

"A fool with nothing to say should not speak so carelessly, lest all see his empty mind for what it is", Vaelaria directly casually. Both men glanced to her, with neither unsure to whom she was directing the statement to... if not to both.

Vaelaria then directed an inquiry toward the duo, but appeared to want Nikka to answer. This was sooner than expected, but it was far from uncalled for. This entire forum was based on the idea of partnership. An unreliable ally with more of a detriment than an asset; that was true with alliances between peoples, and it was true with the person at ones side. Moreso than wanting to know the answer, Uhtred could tell the Eldress of Clan Alemanii was testing the mettle and spirit of the Miraluka.

And in her very first address, she spoke fully in Deucalic. By the Andar, she did have an accent, and her dialect was different from what the locals spoke, but there was no way anyone there didn't understand her. And that-was as powerful a strike that any weapon could have made. If this was planned by the Galactic Alliance, Uhtred had to give them credit; this was a well-planned and well-played hand to open with.

Vaelaria's expression didn't chance. There was no sign of irritation, no sign of agreement, no sign of curiosity, not even a look of acknowledgement. As even, the politician. Uhtred knew some of Vaelaria's life in the past. Back then, there was wonderment as to why she never sought to claim the position of Úlfrgrim while she was still a young warrior, and instead allowed her cousin to do so. Now... Uhtred can't help but wonder if that was intentional. After all, she has nearly the same level of power, but with a fraction of the risk. If nothing else, Uhtred could tell one thing; Vaelaria would never discount anything that had the potential to grant her power. Whether she would show it or not, Uhtred knew... she was at least thinking.

"You speak of war, mær. Do you even know why we fight? Do either of you?", Urdur Thorite asked, although somewhat rhetorically, exhaling deeply and slowly. "No, I wouldn't expect you to. Even many of our own, young and old alike, have willfully become little more than marauders without honor, forgetting our purpose."

Uhtred knew what Urdur was speaking about. Most in the room did, that were listening. Clan Thorite were always the traditionalists, almost obsessed with the old ways, the old beliefs. Old teachings from the memory of an old world. But that was as far as he would take it. Even without looking towards them, Uhtred could tell that Urdur could probably feel the eyes of his fellow Elders on him, not to mention more than a few now watching him with uncertainty. This was not a conversation to be had in front of outsiders, and Urdur left it at that.

"You say you offer prosperity, but what my people need is opportunity", Urdur said, now addressing both Castor and Nikka. "If this is something you can offer, then speak. What is there for this broken family?"

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

What did he offer? What was in it for the Deucalians?

Castor looked around the other Elders of the Deucalian people present here today. Looking beyond the Elders, Castor looked at the watching faces of the regular men and women that made up the clans. The Jedi were no longer simply addressing the Elders; they were addressing the people they represented directly.

"What do we offer?" he looked around him, "We offer something so simple and yet so powerful - we offer a chance. A chance to reach up and push the boot of the Sith off from your throat! To take a breath without them and to use that breath to empower you - to force them back!"

He smacked his chest hard with his fist.

"The breath that will allow you to breathe as FREE men and women! The breath that will put strength into your arms and allow you to take GLORY and HONOUR from those who robbed your ancestors of theirs!" he declared loudly, addressing the hall as a whole rather than the Elders alone, "We will secure trade and security with neighboring Falleen - your homes will be secured and bettered as you take your rage, your conviction, to the stars!"

The Elders spoke to those closest to them as the general population seemed to grow passionate with everything that Castor was saying. It seemed as though the Elders were close to speaking out when it happened.

The Force screamed as Castor and he reacted instinctively - he used the Force as a barrier, around the Elders, himself and Nikka in a dome. Just in time as a blast from a ship's blaster caused the roof of the hall to collapse inwards. Castor's use of the Force was the only reason why they were not crushed to death.

"To arms!"

He didn't know who had shouted it first for a second until he realized that it was actually himself, raising his lightsaber into the air.

"To victory and death!"

Spoiler: OOC

The attack is a slaver raid led by Deucalians who signed up with slaver gangs for credits

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Nikka Toren]

It was at that moment, Nikka decided something.

She was ridiculously joyous of her partner. Some would also call it pride... but her Vision was unclouded of such an emotion. Instead, she was grateful that he had learned along side her, and was willing to follow her words to call with his own. None of this was really planned, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to let him get the final say. It was not her turn to speak, however. They had asked her to, and she had. Quite willingly, too. But Elder Urdur's words to her were the last spoken, before she felt a shiver of awareness.

Just as Castor pulled up his field, the shoto saber blazed to life in her right hand, the other already charged with the Force. She could feel it like water; where it was once a gentle stream, was now a raging river of energy narrowed into her left palm, fingers arched as if to hold it within her hands. She heard more shots fired, yells and cries. How many bore arms, how many were hurt? She heard Castor's call for action, and cast her Sight around to find Uhtred. Was he hurt? She couldn't See; all seemed chaos.

What would have been emotion was calm. She was prepared to fight, certainly, but unlike those that raised their Elduröxi in the air, she was not blind with outrage. No, though her blindness was by biological evolution, what she Saw was unclouded. Pirates, raiders, the baseless marauders that the Elders had identified so matter-of-factly.

"Elder. I may be a Jedi... But even I have known war, and honor in death and battle."

She trembled, but not in fear. No... it was withholding the flow of Light from within, a pressure she would endure only until they would face their attackers. Soon, they would be surrounded. But she'd stake her credits that this battle would show just what it meant to fight not only alongside the Alliance... but also alongside those that walked in the Light.


@Korvo @Nefieslab

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Passion was a... complicated thing. It could drive the ambitious into committing atrocities. Moved the noble-hearted into idealism. Could sway a crowd from despondency to euphoria and back again, a dozen times over. But perhaps most tellingly, at least in this case, was that it could override prejudice, blind one to hate when given an almost blindingly-alluring hope. A cause. A purpose.

As Castor delivered his impassioned speech, bidden with all the intensity and sentiment and zeal that Uhtred might have expected from one of his own kind, a relative silence hung in the air. At the table of the Elders, various expressions still hung on their faces. Vaelaria as unreadable as ever, Urdur gazing thoughtfully, Nerthus looking like he was unsure whether he was annoyed or moved, and Durinn glaring resentfully, although the reason for it could have been legion, with nothing to even have to do with Castor in the first place.

Uhtred had walked over, near to the sparring areas, where the practice weapons were often used, when the sparring Deucalians became more interested in armed combat over hand-to-hand brawling or martial arts. It had always been Uhtred's style to fight with two weapons, as opposed to devoting one hand to attack and the other to defend himself. As such, he neither had nor even owned a shield, much less one of his people's treasured Skjöldr-shields. But this time, it was worth breaking his own protocol. Fitting a simple wooden shield along his wrist, Uhtred returned to the center of the forum, pulled his elduröxi-from his waist, and slammed the flat end of his axe against the round metallic umbo at the center of the wooden shield, creating a clang that resonated in the hall.

"Skál!"

The yell echoed, occurring simultaneously as Uhtred slammed his axe to the shield.

"Skál! Skál!", Uhtred yelled out, timing it with every metal clang. The dream of a return to the golden age? To the time of their thriving thalassocratic empire, now only a chapter in their people's withered past? There wasn't a Deucalian that wouldn't-have been captivated by that, by the temptation of it. And Uhtred knew it.

"Skál! Skál! Skál!"
"Skál! Skál! Skál!"
"Skál! Skál! Skál!"

Without even looking, Uhtred could hear the voiced on either side of him in the hall. He could hear the additional clanging as more warriors struck their shields with their axes. Before long, the entire vicinity was in union; 'Skál! Skál!'

In the face of the joined voices from clans belonging to both houses, even Uhtred was optimistic. This wouldn't mean peace between the clans, that was an internal problem of its own. But if their people could at least gather against the banner of a common enemy? It was a first step. A vital one, even if it wouldn't really solve their own problems in the short term.

However, before any of the Elders could speak, a flash of light and the spray of fire rained out like an arc, exploding from a deafening blast. Luckily, or perhaps not so luckily, the blast had detonated from the far end of the Great Hall. Most of those near the forum with the Elders and the visiting Jedi would have been blown back, save for those protected by Force via Castor, but those at the far end of the hall were killed instantly, bearing the full brunt of the attack.

Uhtred's was flung across the floor, disoriented for a time by the sheer suddenness of what had happened. His ears rung and hurt, and his vision blurred, but he was still able to get up. And after a few moments, his bearings followed. As the ringing died down and his sight balanced, Uhtred could see everyone running, some for weapons, others for armor, and the outcries from those not killed instantly, but were still bound for death.

"Þú kænir! Er þetta það sem þú myndir benda á?!"

"Okkur? Þannig að þú þykir þetta ekki gera þitt?! Þú eða þeir utanaðkomandi!"

"Þögn, Durinn", Vaelaria said, not quite yelling at him, but with her voice raised more than it had been the entire time. Her head turned to Urdur, with whom she shared what was something between a glare and an acknowledgement. It was probably the most that could have been expected, even under these circumstances.

"Allir stríðsmenn í herbúðirnar! Undirbúa fyrir bardaga eða til dauða!", Urdur yelled out in his characteristically booming voice.

Drawing his sword and axe, Nerthus Baldr laughed at the sight of Castor being the first to rally for battle.

"Come, strák! You can speak, now show us you can fight.!"

Uhtred had been properly fitting his armor with his elduröxi-and beskad-in hand, lockbow over his back, and three kastaöxi-along the side of his waist, just in case. Knowing himself, he would probably be prone to throwing axes today.

"Do we know who attacks us?! Any eyes on the enemy?!"

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Castor Chumeda Volante]

Castor drew the Force back to himself, having used it to shield the Deucalians who had been around him. Naturally he hadn't been able to stop the destruction that befell the others and he felt a dull ache in his chest as he realized he could have used the Force to save them instead of himself, Nikka and the elders. But he had made the judgement call, in that split second, to protect the Elders and his allies before the others.

He had traded lives.

Was it right? No, it wasn't right and it sat heavily in his gut but one thing he was certain of was that it was going to make all the difference when it came to the negotiations. And if he was being brutally honest with himself? Castor would have been far more devastated at the death of Nikka alone than he was at the loss of all of the lives in the hall. It was something he was going to have to come to terms with and deal with later.

Right now though, Castor was certain of only one thing. He turned back to address the Baldr, his eyes glowing with the Force as his white lightsaber stood starkly before him.

"Keep up, old man." he declared bluntly, before addressing Nikka and Uhtred, "Nikka! Uhtred! With me!"

Leading the charge through the hall, Castor noted an obstruction in the way of the main doors. There was a beam of solid wood blocking the doors... and Castor had no patience for such obstructions. Through the Force he could feel the fear and panic beyond the doors. With so many of the warriors trapped inside the hall with them, there was almost no one to stand before the attackers and he was able to clearly feel the pain and fear of children.

It was almost enough to bring him to rage... but he pulled back. Instead he recognized the rage as being there, acknowledged it and then pushed it aside. Reaching out with the Force, he lifted the wooden beam, sweating slightly at it's weight, as he leaned it up against the wall to allow the warriors to exit the hall and join the fight.

Castor himself would follow with the mass of warriors, noting the design of the ships that were even now shooting down at pockets of organised resistance with light repeaters. It was clear, however, that the enemy were using stun weapons for the most part. Indeed, it was clear that these raiders were commanded by a pack of Deucalians who had turned on their own and were even now leading slavers to attack them.

Three problems.

The ships.

The Deucalian turncoats.

The dropships for slave collection.

And there just so happened to be three of them.

"Uhtred! Suffer not the traitors to live!" he directed the man to his rogue brothers before he sent the direction of the dropships to Nikka through the Force, "Get the people back off the ships - we're not losing any of them to slavery today! I'll keep the freighters off your back!"

Somehow.

@Korvo @Killa Ree

 

[Nikka Toren]

She felt keenly the loss of them. Those warriors gone; it sang in her heart as harshly as if they were her own dead. This was the price of war; there was a price for everything. Even her species' pacifist approach was not the answer anymore. She had a blade in hand and the power of Light on her side, following the flow that guided all. Between herself and Castor, there was little else that could stand in the way. Nothing else would she allow to harm those that dared attack this Hall. Those that dared to slave their brethren were little more than rabid dogs. And for rabid dogs, she noted grimly, there was only one way to tend to them.

But never if they were unarmed.

Her knees weakened almost at the cries of children. Somewhere within, something was released. All ego, all posture and poise was gone. What was replaced was a deadly calm. Like the hush before a lashing thunderstorm, a bated breath before a tsunami. She placed her hand atop Castor's shoulder lightly, her mouth not curved. It was a tight, grim slash, with brow furrowed. Something burned within her. A sense of justice. A sense of righteousness. They both knew what was behind this cowardice, and it wasn't some rogue band of marauders.

No.

When he lifted the bolt, she assisted, letting the smallest trickle of the torrential Force within her to lift it with him. They were two of one, here. For a second... one fleeting second, she felt a tremor in the Force. A kinship. But it soon faded with the din and melee. "Slavers!" She bellowed in answer. "This is your men turned against you! Are they still Deucalian with such cowardice in their veins?!" She heard a chorus of negatives, and began to pace. First long strides, then faster ones. Faster and faster, the shoto saber poised with her in a defensive grip. One of the slavers tried to take a shot at her. His biggest mistake was first.

He missed.

The last thing he would see, before he could fire another shot, was scarred sockets, a hard mouth.

There were women herded into the first one; some were fighting, others were stunned, and being dragged. She was charging towards one of them, her voice a fierce cry against the growing melee.

"Castor, to my back!" Shots fired over her head and dangerously close to her feet, but she kept running. They would not leave with cargo, not on her watch. She began razing down those that were still trying to drag their own people; the first dropship was close at hand, close enough that she could take them down if she wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

Another slaver's stun baton nearly clapped with her shoulder; she could still hear the hum of it just barely past her ear as she sliced across his midriff, and left him to clutch and try to recover the blood and intestines that began to fall out. More stun shots whistled overhead as she suddenly stopped. Took a deep breath.

On the exhale... she unleashed what she had been holding onto since they'd arrived to the Elders' table. There was a sound, a crack deep under the ground.

Then one of the supports under one of the banked dropships suddenly lurched into the ground. Such an effort hurt; she inhaled again hard, heedless that blood trickled from the corner of her mouth where she bit down hard in concentration. Oh, she was not done fighting.

Not even close.

@Nefieslab @Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

"I'm with you!", Uhtred yelled, in reply to Castor's rallying cry.

As Uhtred charged through the hall, several of the attackers began the full infiltration. Pirates stormed the Great Hall, as sacred a place as one could expect to find among the Deucalians. Of course, the axes were never far off from them, with weapons holding a similar reverence among Deucalians as armor did among Mandalorians. Even so, true fighting was always forbidden there. It was part of the reason the Great Hall had been abandoned for so long, and why neither of the Deucalian Houses had ever violated that rule; the Great Hall was not a place for blood-letting, regardless of the reason.

In the midst of his charge, Uhtred was tackled by a pirate warrior, who after wrestling him to the ground, attempted to strike at Uhtred's skull... with an elduröxi-of all things. With Deucalian corpses scattered around the galaxy from the civil war, it wasn't inconceivable that someone would happen across one of his people's weapons. But it was far too convenient of a happenstance. Blocking the strike with his own axe, Uhtred plunged his beskad-into the gullet of the pirate, before swiping the blade, severing his head completely off.

As his corpse fell, Uhtred stood erect, ready to battle another contender for his life. In the interum, however, the Deucalian reaver caught sight of the pirate's armor. Even through the smear of blood, he recognized the crest. The crest of...

Ættin Tuor?!

"Það er Neitafólk!", Uhtred yelled out.

The Unbidden. Exiled clans, detested ones, rejected from their own people. Forever unwelcome, forever outcasts. Forever... unbidden. Uhtred didn't know if this attack was only Clan Tuor or if they were only leading the attack, but their presence alone was already disturbing, as were the implications. The Úlfrgrim of the Houses of Odin and Radegast were both gone, away seeking to rejuvenate their military strength. Warriors were in respite from the declaration of the War-Rest. And even now, there was a meeting in the Great Hall, where true violence was forbidden. There was never a more perfect time to strike, and it took only a moment's realization that there were really none more able to take advantage of the Deucalian's weakened state than their own spurned people.

Another charge from a rogue Deucalian brought Uhtred back to the present, just as Castor had echoed out once again. A large, double-edged axe, a great elduröxi-by all appearances, came crashing down over Uhtred, who managed to avoid it only by diving out of the way. Rolling onto the ground, the Deucalian reaver turned his head up with one knee to the cold earth, staring up at a mountain of a man. Untred was at a disadvantage, and he knew it. Not only did the rogue Deucalian have a superior size, but he had a weapon with a superior reach. Charging forward, Uhtred could hear a loud, almost guttural hissst!-echo out from the armored rogue Deucalian. It was deep sounding, but evident enough all the same. This was a non-Human of some kind, perhaps a Trandoshan or a Cathar. It would certainly have explained their large size, and some of the Unbidden did have aliens among their numbers, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. In fact, given the events unfolding, it was now fairly evident that it was the case.

A large, horizontal swipe sheared through the air as Uhtred was forced to retreat once again, staying clear out of the range of the great-axe. Pushing his advantage, the rogue Deucalian struck again, this time in an overheaded and downward slash. The attacks were forceful, overwhelmingly powerful for Uhtred, but they were also linear and predictable. And with the overheaded slash, Uhtred saw his chance. As the great-axe struck the ground, Uhtred charged, forcing himself to a range too close for the rogue Deucalian to make an effective counter-attack... or so he'd thought.

Baited, Uhtred fell right into the rogue Deucalian's trap, as the massive figure used his large physique and the shaft of his great axe to entrap Uhtred. Although protected by his armor, Uhtred could hear the metal straining as his body was lifted up by the rogue Deucalian, squeezed between the rogue's armor and the shaft of his great elduröxi.. Unable to move his arms upwards, Uhtred tried in vain to headbutt the larger rogue Deucalian, only for his attempts to be laughed off, and for the vice he was trapped in to tighten.

Another dent creased its way into Uhtred's armor. Yelling with effort, Uhtred dropped his beskad-in his left hand, pulled his Tching dagger from his waist, and stabbed the large rogue Deucalian in his lower abdomen, just above the groin area. A deep, rumbling cry came forth as the rogue Deucalian's vicegrip instantly failed in response to the pain, although Uhtred paid it no heed. Now freed, the Deucalian reaver tightened his grip on his own elduröxi-in his right hand and brought it crashing down into the skull of his cowardly brethren, instantly killing him.

Gasping from the ordeal, Uhtred picked up his beskad-immediately and looked for his next target. Castor was right; none of these cowards deserved to live... nor would they.

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree