A House Divided

[Gilamar Skirata]

https://soundcloud.com/simplemagik/mass-effect-3-the-fate-of​

"His empire is expanding rapidly, every day their numbers grow and their territory bloats," said one.

"You never should have trusted a Sith," spat another. "If he claims he has no quarrel with us how do you explain this?" The disgruntled Skirata elder shoved a prosthetic finger to the banner sitting in the center of the table, ruined in the fires of Wayland. Gil's old eyes looked warily upon the piece of cloth that had been sent in response to his own gift. They were right of course...But where had it all gone wrong? Where had young Isley lost his way? Once a proud Supercommando and one of Gilamar's most trusted field operatives...Now the ruler of an empire? Under the banner of Mandalore no less.

"He claims the title of Mand'alor, no doubt he expects us to honor that name," Gil began, "But clan Skirata won't fold." He looked over his elders, though "elder" was an interesting way to put it. Besides himself, the oldest one here was only in their early forties.

"You say that, but what do you plan on doing? This affront to the Codex-"

"The Codex is an ancient document for ancient times," interrupted another before he sat back and folded his arms, "But their way is even more so ancient. Even so can we truly blame House Verd and the others? Ease makes decay and all that...Besides that boiling blood of theirs won't rest. Not until the Galaxy is made to heel beneath their might. They seek a challenge, is that so wrong?"

"Andres, what are you saying," Gil muttered.

"I'm saying weather he sees it or not, his decision will eventually mean war. But isn't that what our steel is made for anyways?" Another elder shot up, her blaster drawn at Andres. "No need for hostilities, we throw our Clan with the House as always. If anything I'm simply suggesting that we be ready."

Gil's brow rose in curiosity. Andres never said anything without having what it took to back up his words, "Are you saying you think we have the man power, the credits to take on House Verd as we stand now?"

"I'm saying we should be sharpening our blades while they give us the chance."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The meeting lasted for hours. Andres' words had lit a fire under the others' shebs. By the time it was over Concordia was high over head in the night sky. Gil sighed heavily and walked out to the balcony over looking the Veshok forest below. A slight breeze billowed his black cape and rustled his silver hair. His age was beginning to catch up with him. He had spent a long while recovering in Rave's tanks and so his physical ageing had been halted during that time. But ever since he had been freed the age was quickly nipping at his heels. He was into his seventies now, old, especially for a Mandalorian.

"That bad?" The voice of his younger brother. He didn't even bother to turn around.

"Andres wants to go to war. Kleft brought up Kadala, said I was unfit to see this through. Maybe they're right. I'm getting old Davin." Davin sucked his teeth. "Kleft is a kriffing dikut and Andres has always been a war-hawk." That made Gil chuckle.

"But is Andres wrong? I mean, Isley did send you back our banner. Would it really be unwise to at least prepare?"

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The customary grunt that vaguely meant, 'I guess', came from the elder brother. Gil looked up towards the night sky, his expression distant. War was absolutely the last thing he wanted, especially one that involved all the clans and houses.

~~~ Some Days Later ~~~

Kyrimorut -
0530: MST

Andres had called him to Kyrimorut only a day earlier. As he walked the through the giant underground hangar he could see that regardless of what Gil had said at their meeting it seemed Andres had been busy making preparations of his own. Mandalorians and Kyrimorut Watchmen hustled around the bunker on foot and small cargo skiffs. The bunker had more than tripped in size since the One Sith had begun their war with the Republic which was an amazing feat for Andres and his clan. He no doubt held great pride in his work.

"Gil!" The familiar voice of Andres called for the old Mandalorian.

"Andres, vod. Hope you've been well."

"Very much so, as I'm sure you can already tell."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The old man nodded. It indeed was easy to see the preparations Andres had been making, though for how long he had been stockpiling and readying troops was unknown to Gil which was indeed worrisome. That he didn't know of this as the head of House Skirata...Well maybe it said something about the old Mandalorian.

"I'm sure this isn't all what you wanted to show me though," Andres grinned with pride and his eyes sparkled.

"This way." Andres turned sharply, his own black cape billowing behind him. Their boots clacked on the durasteel floor as they entered a hallway. It was a long and bare path with no other doors leading to adjacent rooms, but cameras were everywhere and he could see hatches where defense lasers were no doubt ready and waiting.