“`This RP takes place over two months after GJW XVI: Transcendence.
We’re on Arx, inside the Dark Ascent. It’s a wet, dark, stormy day on the Brotherhood’s capitol planet. Heavy winds, rather glum.”`
A lot had transpired in the last few months… The Regent had joined his fellow Councilors - save for Howlader Taldrya of course, who had been peacefully napping in the Dark Ascent - and numerous other denizens and members associated with the Brotherhood on assaulting the Children of Mortis in the Ethereal Realm. Ativus Oligard had escaped, The Father’s body desicrated and destroyed left only as skeletal remains, and the portal to the Ethereal Realm sealed shut. Worse, though, was that Bes'uliik’s closest ally had been severely injured on the battlefield.
The Voice of the Brotherhood had danced with death, but lived to tell the tale. His armor… Was not so lucky. The ascendant crystal tipped spear had shredded the beskar armor finely crafted by the Regent, ruining the set. In the haphazard removal to save the Scoundrel’s life, much of the internal wiring and other components had been destroyed.
In the time after the war, just as much has transpired. Dacien Victae had seized the Iron Throne for himself, the Regent’s predecessor had been forced into Victae’s former post as his deputy and Shadow Hand, and to everyone’s chagrin Kamjin Lap'lamiz - still ranting and raving like a crazed old man yelling at clouds reminiscent of Howlader about some “mother” - had been elected to serve as the organization’s top judicial officer. It had been a busy time, especially for the Regent.
Bes'uliik himself had spent three weeks following that fateful meeting in the throne room painstakingly reworking and reforging the armor of the Voice of the Brotherhood based on previous designs the two had discussed, leaving it in case in the man’s own Councillor office once he was up and about. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian had taken a trip to his birth-world, Dathomir, alongside several others in search of some ancient lightsaber belonging to a fool and heretic. During that mission he had been stabbed by the lightsaber blade of one of their entourage, emerging from the ordeal further empowered with Shadow Magick - or Force Sorcery, as some elected to call it - coursing through his body. A dark, otherworldly echo followed his every word.
Thankfully, now Zxyl was safely back at the Brotherhood’s throne world. His own Praetor Thran Ocassus-Palpatine had overseen the initial rebuilding of Brotherhood assets, and the prototypes requested by Rahjin Cindertail had been delivered for him to peruse and come to a decision on.
The Mandalorian General was seated firmly in his chair inside the offices reserved for the Regent, turned to face the transparisteel viewport overlooking Eos City. It had been quite a while since storm such of this had raged over Arx, and it forced most non-space vehicle traffic to a standstill as the rain pounded the mountain structure as well as the skyscrapers and city below. The lightning flashed across the opaque dark crimson of his T-shaped visor the rest of his armor.
Zxyl waited rather patiently in his office as venerable Aisha Solon sat in the chair on the other side of the obsidian-crystal slate desk in her own Mandalorian armor, purple with a perfected circuit-board pattern running across its surface. Her helmet rested peacefully on the onyx desk.
The Regent had crafted her set of armor upon her taking the Mandalorian Creed, in which she fully forsaked her criminal and mad scientist ways. Now she served as an honorable Mandalorian doctor, continuing to study and treat her allies but excelling in physical training.
When Zxyl had returned from Dathomir, she was taken aback - especially by the otherworldly echo, which had initially freaked her out more than anything. Although that had passed, she noticed how the trip had changed her primary love interest’s mannerisms and overall demeanor.
The shuttle flight to the capitol was delayed by the storm and it had unfortunately set a strange, pensive mood. In the final days before the war Socorra had more or less moved to Arx. Her talents were no longer wanted or welcome by neo-Arcona, a massive change from pre-coma, where they were considered vital to the safety and prosperity of the clan. They were skills physically and mentally beaten into by several Arconae and honed over the years until they came to her as naturally as breathing. Now the use of them were crimes, of which she still awaited some tribunal bantha osik. Evant, however, had commanded use of them so often it made sense to simply live at Arx.
That had been turned on its head with Dacien more or less claiming the Iron Throne and causing huge uncertainty for her future. After all, some cultures buried slaves with their masters.
But this summons was not from Dacien, or even Atr–Thane, or Ashen, who had recently returned.
When it finally arrived, the shuttle ride was longer than normal as the pilot navigated through the storm with a few curses here and there, breaking the concentration on the work loaded on her datapad. She disliked being idle and it was unfortunately enough to let her mind wander even further. It was rare and often those thoughts were not a treat.
The first Council summons Socorra had ever received was a decade ago. It had been a formal request for a younger, wide- and two-eyed Dark Jedi Knight to accompany a handful of the Grand Master’s guards to Antei at Darth Ashen’s bidding. The Arcona summit had lined up to watch her leave as if it were Death Row, a funeral procession for one of their members before they were even dead.
That incredibly important mission for Ashen would set the stage for years to come. Since that day she had become accustomed to sudden and random assignments from the Council, usually in the form of vague messages such as this one. She just automatically donned her whole set of armor, as statistically the more vague it was the more combat was required.
And there was always her bugout bag if it wasn’t.
As the Mandalorian sat there patiently and waited for the Praetor, he recounted of how he had reached this current stage in his life. Abandoned by his own people and left to die out in the wastes of Dathomir as a child, the boy had been rescued by a crew of unwieldy fellows. From there, he’d somehow made his way to Nau'ur, a planet inside Mandalorian space home to Clan Bes'uliik. Famed Mandalorian Armorers, Clan Bes'uliik had roots going back into the Dark Ages, working the Great Forge. After taking the Creed and swearing to follow the Way of the Manda'lor, the newly minted Mandalorian studied the same arts as his Mandalorian ancestors and emerged a fine craftsman.
Though he eventually fell into the life of a Scoundrel and Bounty Hunter - meeting Idris Adenn along the way on Batuu, who would later recruit him to the Brotherhood - he never lost his honor and continued to follow the tenants of the Creed. Zxyl had ascended quickly through Clan Taldryan upon his arrival, serving as Proconsul and eventually named a Taldrya - Scion of Taldryan. From there he worked under the new Deputy Grand Master, Thane Stokos, while he was Regent - eventually ascending to the Councilor post himself. Now after nearly 3 years - not including the most recent adventures - he had everything well in hand.
The Brotherhood’s assets were at peak efficiency, it’s justice system had a newly minted prison facility space station to supplement the ancient Lictor-class Dungeon Ship, and the Aurora Collegium society had been born - with its own proprietary Collegium-class X-1 Cruisers and Horizon Station to boot. It was around this time last year that the Dathomirian-Mandalorian had finally reached the upper echelon of the organization as an Elder, taking on the title of General and founding his own Mandalorian Covert to further preserve their society.
Along the way he had seen his more traditional Mandalorian armor undergo two major transformations, turning it into what it was today. With every passing day, his skills and abilities as a Mandalorian Armorer improved. He’d crafted several unique suits of pure beskar, from Idris Adenn to Appius Wight, Korvis Manda'Vod, and several others including that which was worn by the Mandalorian he waited on. He felt true pride in his accomplishments.
“Zxyl? Zxyl!” came the Zeltron-Hapan hybrid’s voice from behind him, snapping him out of his reflective state.
“Hmm?” he turned from the viewport to face her. She smiled.
“I was trying to get your attention for a good couple minutes now,” she said slyly.
“I was pre-occupied,” he responded flatly, the dark otherworldly echo in full force.
“Yeah, I can see that. How long is this woman going to be?” the former Mad Scientist questioned, leaning back in the chair.
“I do not know. Lady Erinos received the summons, so she’ll be here.”
“Alright, good… Looking forward to it.”
Socorra hated heights. And she wasn’t very good with a jackpack even after a decade. But the shuttle had made her very late and she disliked lateness almost as much as heights. And unfortunately, walking through the office complex of the Dark Ascent was going to take forever. Her leg calves knew all too well.
Suddenly, a tap-tap-tap could be heard on the office viewport. The storm had made the sky so dark that a humanoid figure could only be barely seen when the lightning threw the clouds into chaos. After an obscene crack of thunder came a yelp and a high pitch squeal of a wet hand sliding down on the glass. The figure dipped below the port for a moment before bouncing back up again, the flames of a jetpack now blazing brightly and and enhancing the figure’s white armor with gold trim.
Zxyl turned back around, facing the viewport.. and canted his hide to the head a bit.
What the kriff is she doing out there?
“Lady Erinos… thank you for joining us,” the Regent said into an open comm channel he established between the two Mandalorians as he gestured to the small viewing balcony to her right. He wasn’t surprised she wasn’t able to immediately see it on approach, with the torrent of rain and wind whipping across her armored form. It was clear however that they’d have to do some training in the ways of the Rising Phoenix, and get the Proconsul up to snuff.
The General rose to his feet.
On the other side of the desk, Aisha giggled a bit. The Zeltron-Hapan hybrid had not expected that sort of entrance, because that was something Bes'uliik could probably be found doing. She rose to her feet, and moved towards the balcony door to allow the fellow Mando'ade entry inside. Before she made contact with the door she tossed her head to the side to look Zxyl straight in the face… or rather front of his helmet… tightly braided purple hair whisking over her left shoulder.
“You made that armor, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, folding his arms.
“Bastard,” she smirked, pressing the door’s activation switch to clear a path for “Lady Erinos”. It slid open, a gust of moist, dense wind blowing into the office and wetting the floor directly in front of it.
“Oof! Sorry, shuttle late,” Socorra sheepishly replied through the helmet as she landed not so gracefully on the balcony that apparently existed. She disengaged the pack and nodded to the hybrid, kind of, both hands holding onto the door frame to balance herself. “Thank you.”
Somehow the woman still walked into the office as quietly as a temple mouse with all that gear. Removing the helmet, she stood in front of Zxyl’s desk, her stance not quite a parade rest but more stiff and formal than normal. Her free vambrace clinked against her breastplate, not loudly. There was hardly room left to swing with its size.
“At your service, General,” she said, the words clipped in her accent. “What I do for you?”
Socorra assumed the mission was taking out or recovering something. Likely the former considering the Regent’s entire thing was acquisitions.
Rain drip-dripped from her armor onto his nice office flooring.
The Dathomirian-Mandalorian looked down at the floor for a brief moment, then back up to his fellow Elder. Aisha gave a half hearted salute to the Socorran as she entered, and let out a little giggle at Zxyl’s clear discomfort with how their fellow Mando'ade had arrived as she re-took her seat in the chair.
“I believe you remember my compatriot, Aisha Solon,” he said matter of factly, the dark otherworldly echo following his every helmet modulated word.
He motioned to the former Arconae to take a seat, before sitting down back down into his chair and resting his hands on the fine obsidian top surface. Although he was Regent of the Brotherhood, the naur'alor was still just a regular Mandalorian at heart and required no such decorum from a fellow Child of Mandalore. All were equal.
The desk was mostly absent of decoration, save for a small metal krayt dragon signet forged in beskar resting peacefully on a small, simplistic regular metal stand. Bes'uliik’s signet. A fifteen inch portable folding terminal lay closed in the direct center of the smooth black surface. It’s top bore the logo of his office.
“When we first met that day in the cantina, Lady Erinos” his attention was focused solely on her, with his Zeltron-Hapan partner also turning her head, “You were in rough physical shape. Recovering from wounds sustained during the Great Jedi War, as I understand it. Now here you stand, once again bearing the armor of our forebearers and taking the Dark Summit by storm as both Praetor to Victae and Proconsul of Vizsla.”
He paused for a moment, before he caught on that she might have thought he had a task for her to complete. Zxyl probably could have been more clear in the communique he sent.
“I have asked you here today because Dr. Solon is a galactic renown geneticist, clone technician, and expert cyberneticist. We would like to offer you the opportunity of having your eye sight, arm, or ether or fully restored. The body part in question would be cloned directly from your own D.N.A., which the good Mando-Medic here is prepared to take a sample of. Restore to you what was taken away.”
The Iron Beast of Mandalore kept his eyes fixated on the stark white beskar'gam he had forged for her, looking for a reaction to his offer. While he understood that the Erinos had been through much physical trauma and might not wish to experience what she might deem unnecessary operations, Bes'uliik was more than prepared to use his other half’s talents for the good of the Mandalorian people.
He had already decided he would not be offended if she declined his offer. Afterall, it was her body, and while she was perfectly fine the way she was, he had no idea if she missed having complete eyesight, or wanted to feel her own hand once more. He too once suffered severe physical trauma, and as a result nearly his entire spine was a cybernetic implant designed to give him life once more.
Body part.
She stiffened, and almost recoiled at the surprise offering. Her damaged heart raced too, nearly as much as when the jet cut outside.
People the woman trusted were an extreme few. Friends simply didn’t exist. They were still for all intents and purposes, a liability. Allies she could easily handle. This was a different situation entirely.
She had no reason to correct Zxyl on the history of her missing eye. It served no valuable purpose. And yet…
“I was captured while protecting my Consul.” And lover.
The eye was ripped out. Marick’s cruel sister said she was doing the woman a favor, taking her sight so she wouldn’t have to look at her ugly self anymore, or him.
“It.. reminds me that all that lost time in coma, beaten, broken, brain dead, was not in vain. He was safe, I did my duty.” I also lost him because of it.
No one had brought her back. No one had waited for her. She was just forgotten, discarded.
In that timeline. The other, however… those years were glorious.
Socorra removed her glove to show the ugly, amateur work that replaced her hand and forearm.
“After the Realm, while I healed this was attached to me without permission. I resent it being there.“
The doctor paid a price for breaking Aa’kua.
“Thank you, for offer.” She paused. “I can no pay for either right now. Soon, maybe. Pecan actually pay more peanut than Praetor–is silly. Work for Evant and tell me it not need huge raise for put up with him.”
“Free of charge, hon,” the Zeltron-Hapan declared as she turned in her seat and threw one arm onto the backrest of the chair she occupied. “Apparently, Zxyl has a bit of a soft spot for you.”
The Regent turned his attention from Socorra to Aisha. The fair, pink skinned woman didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was glaring at her.
“I assure you, any replacement you receive will be of much higher quality than what was fitted to you anywhere else,” the Regent stated matter of factly
He pressed a button on his vambrace, the small holo-projector built into the obsidian slate desk coming to life. Displayed were several designs to choose from, both eyes and cybernetic appendages.
“Take your time. We will leave you to it, and wait outside. If you decide the answer is no for now, then that is also fine.”
As the Regent finished, a large bolt of lightning rippled across the stormy sky, the entirety of Eos City becoming visible for a brief moment before fading back into the darkness.
She took plenty of time but decided in the end to finally just do it. It seemed almost silly to consider this a pivotal moment in this timeline but it felt like the end of a chapter and the start of a new one.
“Okay,” she said. More to herself than them, and had to open the door. She pointed to the designs before they were even inside. “Those two.”
“Very well then,” the Regent nodded sagely at the Erinos, shifting his gaze over to the helmetless Aisha - she had left her “bucket” as it was sometimes called on the Mandalorian General’s desk before the two of them had stepped out to let the Sith make her decision in peace.
“Aisha will make the appropriate arrangements shortly. I’ve ensured that she has access to the medical wards here in the Ascent in preparation for this and other procedures - and because I trust no one else to operate on myself should something go wrong. Is this something you are willing to do immediately? I’ve already constructed each of the designs I have shown you, so there is no delay necessasry in having her fit them to you.”
Aisha crossed her arms as the Regent spoke, somewhat miffed and irritated that he had even gone through all the trouble he had for a woman she did not know. Not that she thought the Regent was unfaithful to her hourglass Zeltronian-Hapan shape and clear emotional issues in any way, just that it seemed out of place for him to put so much care into another person in the first place.
“Experimenting and operating on dark and stormy night- is this good idea? Sound like gothic scifi, what could go wrong.”
A novel based in Romanticism, an age of enlightenment, she mused. It was indeed the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a new one as well.
Socorra turned directly to Aisha, noting the defensive posture. Force powers weren’t required to see through it, the hybrid seemed to wear emotions on her sleeve.
“I will find way to repay your kindness.” Even though it was Zxyl that had offered, she directly addressed his cohort. “Even if it is lifetime of free drinks.”
Socorra inhaled deeply and looked to the floor before releasing it long and loudly. Peering back up at them the woman raised her hands slightly at her sides. “Let’s do it. Yolo?”
Aisha nodded in response, leaving the two as she went to make the preparations.