Faction A New Epoch: Solstice of the Mando'ade 2023

[Domina Prime]

DOMINA PRIME PAGECLAIM
◈

Allies: Enclave
Tags: Romul Saxon | Zel Sharratt



The agitated roiling and rumbling of the collective Mandalorian audience gathered within the great arena was sending tremors through the very earth with their sheer exuberance as many fine champions of Manda gathered in the Arenas sandy fields prepared for their individual exhibition battles for the pleasure and delight of the spectators as was the way of the coliseum. Something the young Xeno had to sometimes remind herself of during these more social events.

Romul Saxon was the first to enter the field, riling up the crowd and forcing their erupting cheers to shake the foundations of the stadium. Dima anxiously brushed off the purple fabrics of her large scarf and turned to face X9 who was waiting at the entrance out to the field.

"X9! How does this one look? Does Dima look 'mighty'?" The xeno questioned, causing X9 to stare at her for a moment before the droid glanced back outside to Romul who stood massive and statuesque with his Beskad in the air as if a composer further erecting the crowds hungering for battle and competition while the gleam of their armor shined in the light. X9 then looked back to Dima, with her adorable yet somewhat off-putting multiple eyes staring hopefully for a response. "Dima is nervous alright! Why does it have to be the boss man? D-...do you think...he'll be mad at Dima if this one hits him to hard?" She whispered, the droid looking back out to Romul who stood outside.

"Well uhhhh...you certainly look lovely Dima. But 'mighty'? You got competition. Look~" X9 gestured out the hall. Dima approached, and very slowly, very carefully poked her head out into the hallway and looked outside to see Romul.

Romul...who was facing the gate she was supposed to be coming out of could literally, even if he didn't try see the bright blue eyes and chittering teeth from inside the hall. Just staring at him awkwardly before Dima gasped loudly and dashed back out of sight, X9 still hovering in the air in plain sight as Dima then dove back into the open snatched X9 and pulled him back behind cover as if Romul could blast her with his gaze.

"He does not look happy X9 not happy at all he was holding his sword with MALICIOUS intent X9 Dima could see it!" She complained, the Droid, if it had a face, would be visibly grimacing at it stared at the nervous alien woman before leaning in really close.

"Dima...remember. These battles are for competition yes, but they are also for FUN. Just...have fun, and remember its not for keeps. You aren't playing for blood~" X9 explained, causing Dima to squint her many eyes in thought for a long moment before her tail rattled about behind her. "So he's not gonna be trying to kill you. And soooooooo?"

"That makes it easier for Dima to hurt him?" She said bluntly and rather naively~

"NO YOU OAF! It MEANS you don't HAVE to hurt him at all! Keep your tendrils AWAY and the freakishness DOWN!" X9 scolded, causing Dima to nod slowly.

"Ohhhh...ok that makes sense~" She mused quietly, leaning back out into the hallway to the outside and waving out at Romul from inside before taking many deep breaths to herself. "Okokok just for fun, not for keeps. Just for fun not for keeps~" She told herself, brushing her dress a bit before stepping out into the open field, emerging from her gate with a small collection of cheers and hoots from the audience, those who knew the four armed lifeform as Dima approached Romul rather nonchalantly and lifting her four arms to wave at different segments of the crowd. "Heh, oh wow. So many cousins! X9 look at all Dimas kin!~" She gasped, eventually turning to fully face Romul as her five eyes stared up towards him a bit almost overwhelmingly innocent despite the obvious devastation Dima was capable of.

"Heya boss!" She quipped, reaching out to tap a claw against the tip of his beskad blade. "Just a game, not for keeps~" She said towards Romul, her many eyes dilating their focus now as she examined Romul a bit more...closely before re-aligning herself. Striking a commanding, almost domineering pose as an imitation of his own powerful stance as Dima straightened her shoulders. "Victory can't be decided by talent, nor by the skill of a mandalorian alone! Victory is the result of truth, the truth of ones iron will!" She would tell him, an old Mandalorian proverb that many foundlings were often told when they were young but disregarded as they got older. Although Dima herself kept these words close, moving to clasp her lower arms behind her back, taking her right hand and bringing it to her chest almost as the form of a salute towards her heart as she spoke the words. Almost as an honorable gesture of respect towards another child of manda.

​

 

[Tempo]

TAGS: Domina Prime Zel Sharratt Romul Saxon

​

Tempo, a mysterious figure draped in a long, dull cloak, found himself perched atop a weathered wall that overlooked the magnificent coliseum. The sun's rays gently brushed against his concealed face, but his intent gaze was fixed solely on the combatants below. With every movement, he clutched the edge of the wall tightly, mindful of the perilous drop into the arena.

Balanced precariously, Tempo adopted a squat-down, kneeling-like position, his hand adorned with sharp claws firmly gripping a weathered stone column for support. Though he seemed unfazed by his peculiar perch, the onlookers couldn't help but feel anxious for his safety. Yet, Tempo appeared to be entirely engrossed in the spectacle before him, his thoughts consumed solely by the vantage point he had secured.

Oblivious to the murmurs and glances directed his way, Tempo drew up a clawed hand and brought it to his fanged mouth. In a surprisingly high-pitched and squeaky voice, he let out a resounding call that echoed through the coliseum. It was a call of admiration and excitement, expressing his awe at the spectacle of prowess and skill displayed by the combatants.

Amidst the roaring cheers and battle cries of the coliseum, Tempo's unique enthusiasm stood out. He didn't care for the judgmental gazes or the whispers about his peculiar behavior. His only concern was ensuring that he had the perfect view of the action, allowing him to revel in the intensity of the combatants' clashes.

Tempo's presence became a spectacle of its own, a mysterious figure perched on the edge, with no regard for the norms of the world below. As he continued to call out, his voice piercing through the clamor, Tempo became a part of the spectacle, merging his excitement with the grandeur of the coliseum.

"Come on Dima! Alright, Dima! Show 'em what you've got! Show 'em you're the best fighter in the whole city!"​

 

[Siv Dragr]

D R A G R
​

Tag: Yuri Maji

Siv's kick landed, though it didn't do much. Not that Siv was exactly trying to kill the Shistavenan, but he just wasn't used to non-lethal sparring. Most of his 'training' consisted of fighting Jedi these days. Not a lot you could do when you were trying to at least keep your opponent alive.

Maji wasn't going to go down without a fight, at the very least. Seemingly revitalized by Siv's first strike, he let loose with a barrage of blaster fire and a missile. Siv repulsed the missile, prematurely detonating it, a move he'd pulled off recently against a Jedi attempting the same trick while shielding himself from the blaster fire with a gauntlet. The overwhelming fire prevented him from seeing the grappling line, though, and it quickly surrounded his torso, pinning his arms to his chest. His blaster clattered to the ground.

"Hey Siv, you finally tryin' to be a good fighter?! Or is flexing your badge still your favourite pastime?"

"Trying?" Siv growled in return, though Yuri's taunts amused him a bit. He could appreciate some levity in a fight like this. He flexed his forearms and his beskar vibrospines extended from his gauntlets, slicing the whipcord apart in the process. He quickly moved into a basic Mandalorian core stance, moving lightly on the balls of his feet. He struck quickly at the Shistavenan, striking with his forearm at the Mandalorian's exposed neck then again rapidly at the side of the Mandalorian's helmet with the same forearm, a move meant to stun his opponent. With his other hand, he reached to grab the Mandalorian's shoulder to hold him in place as he drove a knee toward the Shistavenan's crotch.

 

[Siv Dragr]

S O L S T I C E
​

Tag: Vren Rook

The bruises from the week's earlier fights were starting to fade, only leaving slight discoloration along Siv's neck which was mostly covered by his cloak. The festive decorations had managed to cast an uncharacteristically warm atmosphere throughout Tor Valum, in spite of the perpetual chill. Siv had been a child during the last Feast of Vormur, and he only retained vague memories from then. Now, though, the lanterns and decorations brought back memories unbidden. Some memories that he preferred to be left in the dark recesses of his mind. Besides, now was too merry of a time to dwell on darker things. Siv had celebrated many solstices, which were usually more somber affairs, but this was truly a magnificent undertaking that he doubted even his childhood bliss could objectively surpass.

He wandered through the streets of Tor Valum's Midtown, soaking in the festivities. It was refreshing to feel such an aura of jubilance in the city for once. And it was a welcome respite from the stress that the Rodia incident had him in. In the crowd, in the sea of many-colored armor, he saw a familiar red scarf on an old battered set of beskar'gam. Catching up to its wearer, he fell in step alongside Vren Rook. "You know, if I didn't know any better I would've guessed you took the guildmaster job to avoid me," Siv commented. It had been a while since he'd seen his old friend. The two had been close back in the old days when the Karjr and Enclave were still new. Now the time had driven them apart. "You rarely even make a stop to White Scar," he mockingly complained, snatching a large tankard of ne’tra gal from a passing serving droid and taking a large swig. "I go fight the Sword of the Jedi, and not even a "How are you?" in the holo-mail? What gives, Vren?"

 

[Romul Saxon]

C O L O S S U S​

Tag: Domina Prime | Tempo | Zel Sharratt

Striking a commanding, almost domineering pose as an imitation of his own powerful stance as Dima straightened her shoulders. "Victory can't be decided by talent, nor by the skill of a mandalorian alone! Victory is the result of truth, the truth of ones iron will!"

The massive Xeno had seemed to develop some sort of fascination with Romul ever since the Mon Gazza training exercise. Evidently, that fascination hadn't ceased since then. Romul sighed. "Dima, try to actually fight," he instructed the four-armed Mandalorian as he raised his blade, speaking in a low tone so only they could hear. He respected the creature's ability as a fighter. However, her discipline. . . needed improvement.

He rushed Dima, striking out with surprising speed for his massive size as he thrust his beskad at the alien's torso. Not an overly complex strike, but the sudden ferocity and speed would catch his opponent off-guard.

 

[Tytos Saxon]

G U I D E​

Tag: Runi Kuryida | Yael Kandar | Senar Ahn-Dross | Mandokarla

The shaman wandered anonymously through Tor Valum's midtown sector, taking heed to not draw attention to himself. Few would recognize him regardless, but he did not need a crowd trailing him. He merely wanted to observe the festivities, soak in this aura of joy and happiness that was so rarely found among the Mando'ade, and try to capture the moment before it disappeared fleeting. The Mando'ade would not have many of these memories to enjoy; it was best they make the most of what they received.

Coming into a square, he could make out the sigil of the Mandokarla draping among the many banners that hung across the square. Under it he could make out a small group of shamans, apparently also having ventured down from Resa and elsewhere to take part in the festivities. He made his way over to them, intent on interacting with his kin. Though he hailed from Clan Saxon, the Mandokarla had become a second clan for him in the aftermath of Ra Vizsla's Force Purge, and it had been they who'd raised him.

As he approached, Tytos bowed his head deferentially to the speaker of the Mandokarla. Though he did not interact with the Speaker as much as he would prefer -- his travels usually meant his days were spent alone -- he held immense respect for the woman's knowledge and power. He also admired her qualities for leadership. Though Tytos never refrained from helping a stray soul, he didn't possess the same quality to be able to lead as Runi did. "I can barely remember the last Feast of Vormur," Tytos commented with a soft smile. "It is pleasing to see so many of our people enjoying themselves, for once. And to see an old tradition of Mandalore revitalized and honored."

 

[Yuri Maji]

Engaging: Siv Dragr
Gear: In bio

---

BONKERS​

Siv managed to slice through the grappling line before Yuri could commence with his trick and swung his arm to intercept the Shistavanen mid-air. Yuri shifted his weight and jetpack's thrust as he grabbed hold of the man's outstretched arm, spinning in the air before letting go to try and hurl the Dragr at the coliseum's wall.

Immediately he raised his pistol to continue firing, but nothing more than an anticlimactic click emanated from his blaster. "Oh yeah..." He grumbled, letting the spent power cell drop into the sand beneath him. Spinning the pistol around, Yuri gripped it by its barrel like a hammer as he drew his Beskad. He could waste all of his armour's ammunition now, or save it for a rainy day. For now, he had to resort to the more personal alternative. "Guess we're goin' medieval..." He took off again with his jetpack, coming down to swing at Siv with a strong slash. They weren't supposed to kill each other, but that didn't mean they didn't have to rough each other up. He needed to get some payback anyway.

He was still paying his dad back for the last bail...

Not wasting a second, he fired a blast from his vambrace repulsor before attacking again, this time to swing at Siv's head with his pistol. "Shouldn't you be shouting at kids from your rocking chair, old man?" He teased with a smirk behind his helmet.

 

[Shai Maji]

Tags: Open
Gear: In bio

---

THEME​

The fight on Rodia had taken a toll she was not prepared for, and not just on a physical aspect. Though Jonyna Si had given her a rather good thrashing she wasn't expecting. Then again, that tended to happen when one of the two parties was a lot more driven than the other. But the emotional weight that came down on her upon seeing her sister draw her blade, a blade the Wardog crafted specifically for her, against her people had kept Shai up for the past few nights. She wasn't angry at her. She was angry at Siv and his spectacularly stupid decision to hand an ultimatum to the damn Jedi, their allies for decades by now. She needed to see Valery Noble before things went too far south. Before the relations deteriorated so badly that the only place they would see each other was a battlefield.

But this wasn't a day to entertain those dark thoughts. It was the Solstice. She had come to the festival religiously over the years, eventually bringing Yuri along for them as well. Now she had the joy of watching her boy face down in the coliseum as a warrior. His arrival and state wasn't lost on her, it was something she was going to have to confront him about soon, the kid was acting more and more like his father... or his mother when she was still his age.

The patterns were startling. Only difference was she wasn't a fully fledged Mandalorian at his age.

And her drinking habits were arguably worse.

Thank the Manda for Kragr and that fighting pit.

With a smile on her face the Wardog wandered through the streets to one of the cantinas. A good pub crawl would do her good, or at the very least distract her from her lingering concerns. Compared to the others gathered, the Wardog didn't sport a single piece of armour. A simple tank top, cargo pants, her boots and Peace on her hip sufficed for the festivities. Around her neck, however, she wore a chain sporting an iron heart. A little piece of home close to her heart when she wasn't in the mood for her armour. Even after all these years of wearing it, her pelt still had a tendency to annoy the hell out of her when wearing a bodyglove.

Upon arriving at the first cantina, Shai ordered a mug of tihaar to start the night off. There wasn't a lot of free space, but she managed to find a seat by the bar counter for the moment. With her unwavering smile she watched the roaring crowd and took in the music.

 

[Domina Prime]

Allies: Enclave
Tags: Romul Saxon | Zel Sharratt | Tempo



"Dima, try to actually fight~"Romul said bluntly in response to Dimas approach.

The tone of voice from the former warmaster evoked a squint and a deep frown of displeasure to pull against the corners of her lips when suddenly with little warning the shimmering golden mandalorian thrust his blade forward towards the younger foundling still in her salute.

Five eyes dilated wide like dinner plates, each individual eye scanning with extreme focus as the towering Mandalorian Romul took a firm, deliberate step forward to commit to their strike.

A step he could not take back.

The Xeno knew better than to dedicate to much of her energy nor focus to this initial opening attack, as the real thing to worry about was the potential follow ups once this was either blocked or dodged given how telegraphed the blades strike was. One foot drifted across the dirt, not even taking a full step as she merely positioned her foot directly beside the one Romul had stepped forward with.

Dima then shoved her body forward, directly towards the blades strike and ever so slightly shifted her weight to the side in a quick and fluid lean, using one of her many arms to smack her sharp claws against the Beskad blade as if to alter the power and precision of its strike as well and knocking his aim off trajectory. The blade scraping against her plated armor as Dima then further moved in to fully invade Romuls space.

Dima established her dominant footing first, using the foot she had placed beside his and slipping it further to get the back of her foot heel to heel with Romul, crossing their legs between one another and making it incredibly difficult for Romul to advance or position himself correctly as Dima suddenly and bizarrely began engaging in a dangerous game of footsies with the warmaster. A game where she exceeded overwhelmingly well as with a human there was little to worry about when stepping on one another feet but with Dima? Sharp hooks talons and blades protruded from her heel, making it difficult even with armor to retreat without tripping or injuring ones self and even harder to advance.

Four arms suddenly shot upward, two upper pairs attempting to plant firmly onto those massive shoulders with the lowers moving to try and brace against his barrel shaped chest and with the accumulated strength of all four of her arms the young Prime would attempt to SHOVE the warmaster back, ideally forcing him to trip back against her hooked foot talons as she used the combined power of all four of her arms and advanced footwork to hopefully force the Warmaster to respect her space and give her distance for a moment while would hopefully be table to take whatever time it gave her to figure out her best approach.

Move 1:
Side-dodge lean, alter Romuls Beskad trajectory with clawed strike

Move 1:
Steps forward and locks foot behind romuls and invades space & engages in footsies to prevent retreat or advance

Move 3:
Attempting to place all four arms on chest and shoulders, tries to shove Romul to the floor by tripping him over her hooked and bladed feet
​

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Tournament of Iron
Tags: Tempo , Domina Prime , Romul Saxon

​

"Come on Dima! Alright, Dima! Show 'em what you've got! Show 'em you're the best fighter in the whole city!"

Oh? What was that, Zel wondered. The man turned, looking up to see a purple haired young boy sitting on the wall behind him. They were, notably, very short.

"Oh, hello up there," the historian greeted with a half wave. "Foundling, yeah? I suppose you must be with the... tall lady."

Dima was her name it seemed. Her species was certainly one he did not recognized. It seemed to have attributed of different species, almost as though the woman had been grown. Manufactured. her skill in combat was impressive none the less. Four arms, clawed back feet, and an unnatural movement style certainly spelled for an intimidating opponent. Saxon would have his work cut out for him. More and more that seemed to be the match that most peaked his interest.

"The name's Zel," he introduced, "But that isn't of much importance. I just happen to be here to document the tournament for my Chronical of the History of the Galaxy, name pending."

That, of course, was a loaded statement. Should the young man ask Zel would happily get sidetracked and provide him with flowery tales of the past.

 

[Yolaghun]

-

Watching the Iron Tournament​

---

Yolaghun soared over Tor Valum, headed towards the arena. Judging by the cheers, there were lots of people there already. He was late, but hopefully not too late. He didn't think he'd missed too much of the fighting. Until his run-in with Wookiees on Kashyyyk, the young dragon had never fought before. And even though, he'd only fought back in self-defense from the furred warriors, it had had instilled in him a sort of thrill for combat. The adrenaline that came from having been nearly killed, only to come back and overpower your foe was quite a rush. Although, the actual foray itself had gotten him a bit of a tongue-lashing for following Dima there in the first place. She had armor, so Yolaghun had assumed she had some authority. Apparently that had been a big mistake. Taking on several Wookiees at once, though, had apparently left a little bit of an impression, and he hadn't known better, so it wasn't like he'd gotten in too much trouble.

Coming in from above, Yolaghun landed atop a wall where he could see out over the arena. There was some other small creature here. A friend of Dima's, judging by the way he was cheering for her. "Well met, friend. Careful, though. That one can get you into trouble." He was rather curious to see how Dima actually fought, though. He'd ended up getting separated on Kashyyyk (Silly me for assuming everyone can fly.) and fighting alone. Below, there was a man in carapace - no, armor; he had to remember the correct term for it - with a unique circular visor. He had finished saying something to the small lavender-haired man. Yolaghun dropped down, landing lightly. "Hello, hello! I haven't seen any, uh... helmets - yes, that's the word - like that one before. I'm still fairly new to all this, though. My name is Yolaghun, but most of the others have just been calling me Yol." He nodded to the man with a slight bow of his head. "Quite exciting, isn't it? I believe they called this a "festival"? Has something to do with a flower? I'll have to get someone to explain it to me. But for now..." He gave a loud, bellowing roar in sheer excitement. Many people around him suddenly got quiet and stared at him for a moment before bursting back out into louder cheering. Yolaghun joined in with them.

---

Equipment: None
Zel Sharratt Domina Prime Romul Saxon Tempo​

 

[Tempo]

TAGS: Zel Sharratt Yolaghun ​

Tempo's ears flicked back as 'his space' was 'invaded' by the winged fellow who landed near him and he instinctively snarled and hissed at him loudly as if to show he was indeed there as his pointed ears pinned back briefly. "Hey watch the wings!" Those ears flicked up and he glanced back at Zel. The lavender-haired punk peered back at Zel an quirked a brow at that with a cocked tilt of their head. A snickering laugh spread across fanged lips.
"Why not just call it like the 'History of Everything?, I guess? ' " Tempo asked.

"This is certainly an exhilarating introduction to Mandolorian culture. " He offered moving to hop down next to Zel landing with his boots on the bench Zel was seated on. He leaned over the man and leaned atop his helm briefly and peered over and down about what he was looking at or working on. " Are you ACTUALLY writing it now?!" Tempo asked excitedly. " Do you have any drafts? Can I get a signed copy of one?" Tempo asked excitedly. "Are you gonna include Dima Prime The greatest warrior to ~ever~ exists in your book~? It is a book Right?"

 

[Siv Dragr]

D R A G R
​

Tag: Yuri Maji

Yuri leveraged his jetpack's thrust to grab Siv and throw him towards the side of the arena, a move that the veteran Mandalorian had not anticipated. Siv slammed against the coliseum's wall -- had it been that close? -- and slid down it. He could feel his back aching, but fortunately, his inertial dampers had made sure his spine hadn't instantly crumpled on impact.

Siv drew back to his feet quickly, the roars of the crowd behind him deafening. They were loving this a lot more than he was. Yuri, still propelled by the same ferocity, came in swinging with a downward slash. Siv rolled forward, letting the Shistavenan hit the duracrete wall instead. Coming back up, he was briefly stunned by a repulsor blast, catching him off-guard.

"Shouldn't you be shouting at kids from your rocking chair, old man?"

Pushed slightly backward, he saw the wide arc of Yuri swinging his pistol toward his head. Siv's reaction was lightning quick; he bent backward, letting the arm sail past where his head had been moments earlier. Straightening up instantly he grabbed Yuri's arm with his own left, pulling it across Yuri's body out and down to throw him to the ground or at least make the Shistavenan lose his balance. "Thought this tournament was grown-ups only," He growled At the same time, with Siv's right fist, he threw a lightning-quick powerful thrust toward the soft spot between Shistavenan's helmet and breastplate which was, hopefully, more exposed by Siv's counter.

 

[Korso Rook]

COLISEUM
Gwyneira Vizsla ​

Korso's helmet tilted in response to the Clan Vizsla warrior's invitation. Clearly, she was confident. Survival instinct warned him that confidence was well earned. Honor could be its own kind of weapon.

He drove his axe pommel into arena sands. Drawing a pair of WESTAR blasters from his belt, Korso tossed them aside. Then he picked the mighty twin edged blade back up and nodded.

"Mandalore!"

With all his might Korso lifted the mythosaur axe for a two-handed throw at his opponent.

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

Beneath her visor, Gwyneira raised an eyebrow as he tossed his blasters aside, then proceeded to throw his primary weapon towards her. It was easy enough to dodge left; though the artist let her cybernetic eyes admire the mythosaur inspired blade design as it flew past her. Nice axe! I could clean this old boy up for him when we're done.

The axe slammed into the ground, sand clouds poofing around it as Gwyn looked to her opponent once again.

You really made a bad choice, losing your primary weapon so willingly...

It was a layer of unpredictability that unnerved the Karjr. Essentially disarming himself, did that mean he was confident enough to fight without it? She slipped into running position, ready to test the murky waters of this fight. She drew her M.I. pistol from its holster, aiming the stun bolt - but towards his feet. Tactically, she tried to aim in such a way that while he dodged, she could easily move it. She was determined to keep herself between her opponent and his weapon, in case he wanted it back. Running up and close to him, she put her pistol away and aimed a rapid series of punches and kicks for his chest and legs. She avoided the head in good sportsmanship. Her crushgaunts enhanced her already durable strength as she seldom used her cybernetic leg for attacks. Not yet would she use it. While on the offensive, she was still sure to keep her defense up. She wasn't trying to beat him so much as she was seeing what he was made of. Once she had an idea of what she was dealing with, she could hatch a plan to claim victory.

Korso Rook

Spoiler: OOC

Equipment:
- Beskar'gam, including cybernetics, kama, custom armor submissions inside.
- Twin pistols, set to stun.
- Kal.
- Pistol, on stun setting.
- EMP Grenades.

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

With a sigh, the Mandalorian turned another corner of Tor Valum's streets. Many of her kin were so happy, so proud. They drank and sang and chattered with such happiness - she wished she could be happy as well...

Wearing her armor again, the Arkanian Hybrid followed the Force signature of a certain person, trying to reach her. Eating a pastry from a stall as she walked, the woman held her buy'ce at her side. The Kestri winds that made it to this part of the city rustled her amber scarf as she pushed her layered her behind her ear for the millionth time today. Munching on her treat, she finally zoned in on who she was looking for. She entered a cantina, wiping her hair out of her face as she Force Sensed her way through the building with remarkable accuracy. Her cybernetic eyes adjusted to the change in lighting as she chuckled at her target's casual choice of clothing. Some things never changed... and it soothed her troubled mind greatly.

Approaching her mother figure, Gwyn shoved the last of the pastry down her throat and casually greeted the Wardog.

"What a rarity, we're both on Kestri at the same time."

She sat down next to her, whether she was invited or not. Setting her buy'ce on the counter as she settled in, the Mandalorian sighed as she ordered a tiingilar casserole. She indeed was quite hungry! Looking to the buy'ce her father gave her, Gwyn sighed.

"I know I'm being a downer. I always am, aren't I? But..."

She closed her eyes, signs of her age showing on her face, which was young but not without one or two wrinkles.

"You and Mevia both were at Rodia, right?"

Yes, Gwyn was here to check on how her daughter was doing. Of course, Gwyn was happy to see Shai Maji regardless. They had long ago made amends for the Maw incident that tore them apart, and Gwyn had been happy to let Shai be an active part of her children's lives. Her son on the other hand... could benefit from a slap on the wrist.

Yuri was not today's topic, however. Gwyn had other thoughts on her mind, "What do you think about it all? Rodia, the Crusade..."

She truly hoped that Shai wasn't as bull headed about it as her daughter was about it. Mevia too could benefit from a slap on the wrist. But right now, Gwyn wanted to know how she faired out there. No matter how much war was a part of Mandalorian culture, she deeply worried for her adi'kas every time they entered battle.

 

[Runi Kuryida]

:: TOR VALUM, KESTRI​

The Speaker of the Mandokarla laughed at something that'd been uttered beneath their banner. "The purview of the young," Runi declared with a smile. "Would you care to feel my blade?" Certain those that failed to learn the right lessons at Resa were experienced in the flurry of wooden blades... and the length their sting lingered. Battle for battle's sake was folly, but a festival filled with dueling warriors... A soul could gather much strength from such engagements. It was good to see the many bask in life's opportunities.

Runi's hazel eyes slid over to the form of a Shaman as he drew near. She returned the nod in suitable fashion. "Well met."

Who helped the helpers? It was good to see so many from the Briirud on this day. It offered them the chance for something different. An opportunity to mingle with the community they dedicated themselves to supporting in the smallest of ways when so much was taken by the colorful and explosive. Toil could be its own reward, but interacting with their brothers and sisters in arms without burden helped shed the emotional weight of that toil.

Kuryida's gaze lingered with Tytos for a moment as her smile softened. "I am grateful the Manda has seen for events to transpire that our people can enjoy such a celebration. It helps foster bonds between unfamiliar brothers and sisters. Perhaps more opportunities will present themselves in time." It had been a time to be sure. Runi certainly enjoyed the bouyant spirit of those in attendance.

"What of these traditions speaks to you most, Shaman of Clan Saxon?"

:: Tytos Saxon | Yael Kandar | Senar Ahn-Dross | Mandokarla​

 

[Shakka Bralor]

​

Location:Kestri

Objective:

Facing: Mevia Vizsla
Equipment:Equipment In Bio
Song:Agni Kai

She could hear the roar of the crowd as she waited in the wings of the arena. Meditation had never been her strongest suit but that is what she was currently attempting to do. These matches were always a good test of strength and a reminder to keep their edges honed even in times of relative peace. Peace was a funny word amongst Mandalorians because rarely if ever were they peaceful. Even at their beginning when the Taung made their exodus from Coruscant all those millenia ago it had been the Mandalorian way to seek out conflict to avoid sloth. In the past this had often led to bloody internal conflicts over everything from leadership to what it meant to be Mandalorian today at least was different. It was a day to celebrate victories and mourn losses. Her internal thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling of the gate in front of her it was time to fight it seems.

As she stepped out into the brightness of the arena her eyes caught on her opponent, finally Mevia Krayt, one of the many young Verd that had been clamoring to fight in recent years. They had gotten their fight; the Enclave had gone to war once more, expanding its reach outwards again to the stars above Kestri. She gave Mevia a nod and waited for the announcer to call the start of the match.

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[Romul Saxon]

C O L O S S U S​

Tag: Domina Prime | Tempo | Zel Sharratt | Yolaghun

To his surprise and pleasure, Dima did not take Romul's words lightly. As he struck she deftly dodge the blade, altering its trajectory as to direct Romul's own momentum against him. The blade flashed aside, and the xeno moved in close to try and grapple with the Warmaster, pushing against his shoulder and torso with her four arms. He felt his back foot starting to slide, only to stop as it touched Dima's own foot planted behind it. Romul instantly understood what Dima was going for.

What Dima didn't anticipate was Romul dropping his shoved-aside blade entirely, crouching low and pushing forward, grappling with the xeno. Moving his center of mass lower relative to hers, he grabbed hold and pushed up and out, moving to hoist the xeno entirely into the air and slam it on the ground before separating. A devastating move if pulled off, but one that would leave Romul exerted and exhilarated; this one was proving herself to be a worthy challenger already.

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Tournament of Iron
Tags: Tempo , Domina Prime , Yolaghun , Romul Saxon

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"Quite exciting, isn't it? I believe they called this a "festival"? Has something to do with a flower? I'll have to get someone to explain it to me. But for now..."

"Ah, well..." Zel began, but then the stranger immediately began cheering again. He seemed.... intent on continuing to do so, so maybe the Blubreen shouldn't start rambling.

" Are you ACTUALLY writing it now?!"

"Oh, most certainly not," the man answered. "That would be painfully long. I'll be doing it in audio logs. Your Dima friend will most certainly be in there. I'm... unsure what she is exactly, but a prolific warrior of her caliber is certain to pop up."

The man crossed his arms, tilting his helmet back towards the ongoing match. Saxon was no slouch either. He seemed a capable tactician. It was no wonder that man was a figure the Enclave was beginning to rally behind. What that spelled for the future was unclear, but the prospect certainly made Zel shudder with anticipation. History in the making, all around him. What a momentous time to be alive.

"I'm afraid I can't provide a signed copy for some time," he lamented. "I imagine this will be an ongoing project, and I have nowhere enough material to begin publishing. At least 50 audio logs will be necessary, I believe."