===Dooku===
As Jedi Masters Dooku and Qui-Gon Jinn approached the desert planet of Tatooine, the older Jedi couldn't help but reflect on the circumstances that had led him here. The recent conversation with Master Yoda echoed in his mind. The Grandmaster had given him permission to pursue any lead that might bring them closer to understanding the growing darkness within the galaxy. Both of them knew the impending crisis was unavoidable, but how they would face it remained uncertain.
What had stuck with Dooku the most, however, was the vision he'd experienced—its focus had been on a single figure, unmistakably one of the Astartes. The connection had been enough for him to reach out, and the Astartes leader, Maximus, had agreed to meet. Dooku was eager to understand what role these warriors might play in the galaxy's future.
"We'll be landing in a moment," the pilot called out, glancing back at the two Jedi. Both Dooku and Qui-Gon gave him a silent nod.
The ship descended through Tatooine's harsh, sandy atmosphere, making its way toward a landing pad far from the wreckage of the colossal battle barge that loomed like a metal monolith among the surrounding rocky mountains. As the ship's engines quieted, the dust settled, revealing a group of Mandalorians standing at attention, all wearing the distinct armor of the Azure Talons.
"Master Dooku, Master Jinn. Welcome to Tatooine," Bo-Katan Kryze greeted them, holding her helmet under one arm, her expression stern but respectful.
"Captain Kryze, it is good to see you again," Dooku replied smoothly, stepping down the ramp with Qui-Gon following. Both Jedi gave her a respectful nod, though their attention remained keen.
"Please, follow us," Bo-Katan said with a wave of her hand, leading them towards the towering battle barge in the distance.
The landscape around them was a curious blend of hardship and resilience. The city that had sprung up around the wreckage of the battle barge seemed to thrive despite the harsh desert climate. People moved about their business, many of them native to the planet, but all seemingly under the watchful eyes of the Mandalorian soldiers.
Qui-Gon's gaze swept across the bustling makeshift city. "It seems you and your people are doing quite well here," he remarked thoughtfully, watching the people go about their work.
Bo-Katan didn't look back as she continued walking, her gaze firmly fixed ahead. "Indeed, we are," she replied. "But this is only the first step."
The two Jedi exchanged a look. "You mean… Mandalore?" Dooku asked, his voice laced with curiosity. The thought of Mandalore, once the heart of Mandalorian pride, now held a different weight in the galaxy's shifting balance.
Bo-Katan's lips tightened, but she didn't break her stride. "It is our birthright," she said with quiet conviction. "Once we take Mandalore for the Imperium, others will quickly rally to our cause. The galaxy will have no choice but to listen."
Dooku nodded slowly, his mind already processing the implications of her words. "And who will rule over Mandalore once it is reclaimed? If I remember correctly, your sister is its current leader."
Bo-Katan's eyes flashed with a barely restrained fire, but she remained silent for a moment. The faintest flicker of hesitation crossed her features before she spoke again, her tone flat. "The Trueborn will decide that." Her use of the term was telling—it referred to the three Astartes, warriors whose power and influence were undeniable in the eyes of the Mandalorians.
The two Jedi fell into a contemplative silence, their footsteps in sync with the steady pace of their guide. As they neared the battle barge, the imposing structure seemed to dwarf everything around it. They were led deeper into the ship's interior, the walls lined with technology and the heavy scent of oil and metal that spoke of war and survival.
"The Trueborn will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat," Bo-Katan said, pausing outside a large, steel-reinforced door. She gestured for them to enter, before leaving them alone in what appeared to be a makeshift conference room. The room was stark, illuminated by cold lights overhead, and a long table stood at the center, its surface polished to a dull sheen.
Dooku gave a polite nod to Bo-Katan as she departed, his voice carrying a quiet thanks as they entered. He turned his attention to the seats before him, noting the three imposing chairs positioned at the far end of the table. They were unlike the other normal seating—large, heavy, and crafted with an air of authority, each one seemingly designed for a being of great power.
After a few moments of silence, the doors to the conference room slid open, and Bo-Katan re-entered, flanked by two figures. Both were Mandalorians, though their armor marked them as distinctly different from the others. One wore the distinctive black and white armor of the Obsidian Crusaders, while the other was dressed in a mixture of dark green and black of the Pyro Drakes.
Sebastian, the Black Templar, was the first to stride into the room. Without a word, he moved to the chair on the right side of the table before he s down.
Next came Raxor, the Salamander. His presence was equally imposing, and though he moved with a quieter demeanor than Sebastian, there was no mistaking the readiness in his posture. Raxor took the seat to the left, his helmet turning briefly toward the two Jedi as he settled into place, though his focus remained on the leader who was yet to arrive.
The final figure entered last—Maximus. He moved to the head of the table with the quiet assurance of someone who had seen planets burn in his wake. He took his seat, his gaze settling on the Jedi Masters with a cold yet calculating look.
Maximus leaned back in his seat, his piercing gaze never leaving Dooku. His voice, distorted through his Vox grill, reverberated around the room. "Master Dooku. It's good to see you again so soon. What brings you here?"
Dooku, his expression calm and measured, wasted no time with formalities. He could sense the underlying tension in the room, especially from Sebastian, whose sharp temper was well known even to the Jedi Master. Dooku knew that the more direct he was, the more likely he'd maintain their respect. "I will get straight to the point," he began, his voice low yet resonant. "I have had a vision—a powerful and disturbing one."
"In it, I saw a figure, a warrior—an Astartes—standing at the center of a storm of his own making. He was responsible for the deaths of three individuals on a distant world, their bodies falling before his power. This being was not of our galaxy, much like you."
"You know of the Force, and its profound connection to the universe around us," Dooku continued, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom. "It guides the living, shapes the fabric of reality, and yet... this being was… different. His power didn't just touch the Force—it corrupted it. It bent the very nature of the universe to his will, and I fear it is but a harbinger of something far darker."
Dooku met Maximus' gaze steadily. "I seek answers. This Astartes is not merely a warrior—he is a force of nature. But I believe his presence in the galaxy will soon be known to all, and I need to understand what he is, where he came from, and what his purpose is. The path forward must be chosen wisely, and it must be chosen together."
The room was silent once more. Even Sebastian, seemed to be pondering Dooku's words carefully. There was a weight to the Jedi Master's caution—a depth to his warning that spoke of a threat far beyond their individual reach.
Maximus leaned forward. "Your vision is troubling, Dooku," he said, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating in the room. "But we are not strangers to such challenges. I will tell you the truth about what we are, and where we come from."
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the room, locking with both of the Jedi.
"We come from another Universe. One where war is not only a way of life, but a requirement The Imperium of Mankind is an empire born of war, forged in the fires of a galaxy that has long forgotten peace. It was founded by the Emperor, our creator, and our eternal ruler. The Emperor was once a mortal man, like any other, but he rose above all, uniting humanity under one banner. Through his power, wisdom, and vision, he sought to bring about a future where mankind could dominate the stars, free from the threats that sought to destroy us."
Maximus' eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of reverence passing over his features, though it quickly vanished. The Emperor was a being of myth, of legend—but to Maximus and his brothers, the Emperor's power was an undeniable, palpable force.
"The Emperor... is no mere man anymore," Maximus continued. "He is something greater, something beyond mortal comprehension. His light guides us in our endless war against the enemies of humanity. He is the soul of the Imperium, and we—the Astartes—are his weapons. We are his Angels of Death, his enforcers, his warriors who fight in his name across the galaxy."
Maximus straightened, his voice becoming more resolute. "We are the Emperor's chosen, created through the highest science and the most arcane rituals. We are the Astartes—the genetically enhanced warriors who stand as the vanguard of mankind. We were born to fight, to protect humanity from the darkness that seeks to consume it. We are stronger, faster, and more resilient than any mortal. Our bodies are forged through the Emperor's will, transformed into something more than human, bound to his purpose."
The room felt heavier with each word that passed from Maximus' lips. Even the Jedi Masters, who had faced numerous trials in their own careers, could not deny the weight of what the Astartes were—these warriors, these living weapons, were the embodiment of a purpose much larger than themselves.
"Our origins," Maximus continued, "are tied to the Emperor's grand vision. We were created from his son's genetic template, engineered and bred to be the perfect soldiers, crafted to fight wars that no man could survive. There are many of us—each Legion designed for different purposes, each one unique in its own right."
He paused, his gaze turning cold, though it lacked malice—simply a reflection of the truth that had long shaped his life.
"But even the Astartes are not invincible," Maximus added, his voice hardening. "There are forces that even we cannot fully snuff out. Chaos seeks to tear the Imperium apart from within, our traitorous cousins. Those like the one you saw in your vision. There are even beings whom the Emperor battles with, beings of power who would see the galaxy drown in blood and fire."
"If your vision is true," the Ultramarine continued, his voice cold and firm, "Then we already know what we must do. This being you saw—did he use sorceries?"
Dooku nodded gravely, his expression unchanging. "Yes, he did. The power he wielded was not merely strength or combat skill. It was something darker—something that bent the very nature of reality around him."
The Ultramarine's posture stiffened, and his gaze darkened with recognition. "Then it is as we feared," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. "The Chaos God of Knowledge has found this universe, and seeks to learn its secrets."
Maximus slowly reached up and removed his helmet, placing it down with deliberate calm on the table before him. The action was small, but significant. Dooku and Qui-Gon both felt a sudden, inexplicable chill—a coldness that seemed to seep into their bones. It was as if the very air around them had thickened, as though something had turned its attention directly upon them. It was a primal feeling, one they could not shake, and it sent a shiver down their spines.
Maximus' face, though human, bore the unmistakable marks of a being who had long been shaped by the rigors of war. His features were sharp and weathered, with the weight of countless battles etched into the lines of his face. His eyes, however, were what held the most power—there was an emptiness to them that could drown anyone who dared look into them for too long. The expression he wore now was not one of malice, but of something far worse: purpose.
The moment stretched, and finally, Dooku broke the silence. His voice was steady, though it carried the gravitas of the situation. "What do you propose we do to stop this sorcerer?"
Maximus did not hesitate. His voice was firm, unwavering. "There is only one option left for you, Dooku. You will join us. The Jedi will join the Imperium. And together, we will wipe this threat out."
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