Private A New Home

[Brent Warnel]

KESTRI
TAG: Romul Saxon

Brent piloted his ship toward the glowing orb that hung in the deep blackness of space before him. His modified Dynamic-Class freighter plied the stars as gracefully as ever. It was an older model from a time long forgotten, the plans recently rediscovered, the design renovated and built anew by Clan Warnel shipyards. It had the space needed for bounty hunting, supply runs, even raiding, and it served him well. The beams of light from Kestri's star pierced his forward view-port, illuminating the cockpit of his vessel.

The yellow-dwarf star that lit this system was not familiar to him, nor was Kestri, his target. Brent had never been here, had no real reason to come here, but that was changing. Mand'alor the Anointed trusted these new Vode enough to integrate with them, and Brent trusted Mand'alor, so here he was. Flying through the vacuum of space to a world that was never even on his radar. He was not sure what his hopes were when he arrived, but he did have one pressing matter he believed could be rectified here.

Brent looked over at his co-pilot's seat, where his T-Visor helmet sat, staring at him. The crack that ran up the visor would be an easy fix, but it gnawed at him. This helmet was a memento from the Crusades, when his people burned brightly across Mandalore and the surrounding regions. Whole worlds, religions, and ideologies had fallen to the Neo-Crusaders. But that was gone now.

His people had burned bright, too bright, and they had been snuffed out, not by the enemy, but by themselves. Mandalorians craved conflict in an ever-revolving door; they always wanted it, needed it, to stay alive, to fuel their warrior culture. But that same conflict would burn those Vode away until they were but a shadow of their former selves. Years later, decades even in some cases, their numbers would replenish, and they would sail the stars again, burning their enemies. But it was not yet that time.

So this helmet, a memory from another time, would be shelved. Brent's armor was of a modified Neo-Crusader variety taken from his ancestor on Dxun. It deserved a helmet worthy of it, a Neo-Crusader helm.

Brent had been sent here by another Vode from the Covenant and told to meet with Romul Saxon . He did not know the man, had never come across him, but he hoped he could help. This would be the beginning of integrating with these new Mandos, and he was curious to see how it would pan out. Brent's thoughts kept him busy as his ship descended into the atmosphere of Kestri, settling at a nearby spaceport in the City of Tor Valum.
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[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Tor Valum, Kestri​

Tags: Brent Warnel

Tor Valum's spaceport was never idle these days. As the Iron Covenant continued to grow in strength, it was a constant, purposeful bustle of Mandalorian crews, dockside teams, shipbuilding construction, and logistics. Surveying it all was the massive old boar, the warrior Romul Saxon, Alor of Clan Saxon and herald of the Covenant's flame.

Massive gauntlets gripped railings as he watched a team of old droid frames fuel a ship that was preparing to take off. A mission to a neighboring star system, he knew from the manifest. The Covenant was expanding operations, making their preparations. The beacons were set, and chaos was beginning to take hold of the galaxy. Romul had read the reports from Dressel of the Mandalorian skirmish with the Jedi. Combined with the surprise conflict on Ryloth, soon bigger galactic powers would be aware of the Iron Covenant. They would have to be prepared to take the first move.

Romul looked upwards. The growing silhouette of an old freighter had drawn his attention. Its sturdy frame boasted of practicality over pomp, the kind of craft a Mandalorian would actually use, not parade. Good. It settled onto the landing pad with a wash of repulsorlift-generated dust and snow particles. The massive warrior strode out to meet it. In his beskar'gam, thick plates of crimson beskar alloy over a reinforced combat frame, hydraulics propelling him against the weight of his own armor, he stood well over two meters tall. He stopped several paces out from the descending landing ramp of the freighter, folding his arms across the broad plating of his chest.

"Brent Warnel." It wasn't a question. He'd sent ahead after Vren Rook had spoken with Carduul Akahl . "You've crossed a long stretch of stars," he spoke without raising his voice, yet his words boomed across the platform. "Will the trip have been worth it?" It was a challenge, evaluative. Many might have expected open hospitality towards a guest, but here, on Kestri, what was needed was strength. It was an unrelenting world, and the galaxy was equally so.

 

[Brent Warnel]

KESTRI
TAG: Romul Saxon

Brent felt the vibrations through the hull as his ship touched the earth of Kestri. The Hawk's landing gear absorbed the weight of the ship as it settled. Brent strode from the cockpit, helmet attached to his waist, the broken visor staring into nothingness.

"I'll be away for some time," Brent told Wyyr'kull, "Explore the area if you wish. Keep your comm active, and we will talk about Dressel when I get back."

Wyyr'kull grunted in acknowledgement, slowly spinning the comm unit which would connect him to the Jedi that Brent had fought on Dressel.

Brent's boots thudded along the ship's interior as he approached the landing ramp, pushing the button that would drop it. The landing ramp descended quietly for a ship the size of the Hawk; the hydraulics were still new and yet to be worn down.

As Brent descended the ramp, he heard a voice cut across the hubbub of the port.

"Brent Warnel." It wasn't a question. He'd sent ahead after @Vren Rook had spoken with @Carduul Akahl . "You've crossed a long stretch of stars," he spoke without raising his voice, yet his words boomed across the platform. "Will the trip have been worth it?" It was a challenge, evaluative. Many might have expected open hospitality towards a guest, but here, on Kestri, what was needed was strength. It was an unrelenting world, and the galaxy was equally so.

Brent was a large man, standing at two meters even and weighing 140 kilos. The man across from him was taller and just as heavily muscled. He stood out without even trying, and it left no doubt as to who was speaking to him as Brent descended the ramp and his boots hit the earth of Kestri for the first time.

"That remains to be seen," Brent replied, walking to within arm's reach of the other man. "I know little of your Covenant, and yet I've already bled for them. Bled, committed violence, and made your enemies bleed for a cause I know next to nothing about."

Brent detached his helmet and held it up for the other man to see, "And in reward, my armor has been scorched and broken in a way that I can no longer mend on my own." Brent returned the helmet to his belt, eyeing the other warrior.

"I've been without a cause ever since the Crusades ended. My focus has been on me and mine. However, things change, old friends rise anew," Brent tilted his head back slightly, breathing in deeply, "And I feel the Manda, its beckoning me somewhere."

"So now I come to you, Romul," Brent said as he lowered his head and looked back at the man, "On the word of my brothers, that you may shed light on this," Brent held up his arms, gesturing to everything around him, "And teach me about this Iron Covenant."
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[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Tor Valum, Kestri​

Tags: Brent Warnel

"So now I come to you, Romul," Brent said as he lowered his head and looked back at the man, "On the word of my brothers, that you may shed light on this," Brent held up his arms, gesturing to everything around him, "And teach me about this Iron Covenant."

Romul gave his fellow Mandalorian space to speak, not intruding on any of his words. When Warnel had finished, he inclined his head slowly, ponderously. "Warfare is sacred," he reminded the Neo-crusader. "The Iron Covenant does not take to shedding blood lightly, nor do we thirst uncontrollably for it." Ryloth and Dressel were operational blunders for the Covenant. They had not meant to attack Ryloth, only negotiate trade with a world that for decades had cooperated with the Enclave. Partisans had turned their innocent gesture into a slaughter. One Mandalorian casualty was one too many, especially at this stage.

And the Jedi. Their intrusion on Dressel was unwarranted. No casualties reported -- Romul knew of few of their ilk who were worth anything in an even matchup -- but the Covenant was forced to change their operations. If another war broke out before they were ready for it, it would be a disaster.

He looked at the armor of Brent. "Come," he said at last. "The galaxy's best beskarsmiths are here on Kestri. Rest assured that we will mend your armor, vod. But let me ask you this," he said as he turned, now talking aside to the warrior. Romul took big strides, expecting Warnel to match his pace. "You could have chosen Dxun, or Mandalore. But you have come here. What do you hope the Iron Covenant to be?"

 

[Brent Warnel]

TAGS: Romul Saxon

Brent listened as Romul spoke to him, telling him the Iron Covenant does not thirst uncontrollably for warfare, nor take shedding blood lightly. Brent thought these two stances were almost fundamentally opposites to his. He was quick to violence, and when a battle was to be fought, he was among the first there. However, he thought to himself, that was more during his times with the rest of his Neo-Crusader brethren. Before then, back when he was with the Clans, he was not so quick to violence. But the Crusaders had changed him, and for the better, he thought.

Battle was their forte; it was their way of life. But it was not every Mandalorian's way of life. Not every Mandalorian had been a Crusader, nor would they be. Even now, there were two major and fundamentally distinct factions of Mandalorians within the galaxy. They had risen quickly in the absence of the Neo-Crusaders. While they had not been Crusaders, they were still Mandalorian, and that counted for something.

Brent followed the big man as he turned, matching his pace and keeping up as Romul led him away from his ship.

"Aye, I could have," Brent responded to Romul's question about Dxun and Mandalore. Truth be told, Brent wanted to go back to Dxun, to his ancestors' resting place, to think and just be for a while. Brent's old armor would still be there, in that ancient glade, rotting away. Armor from his time in the Clans.

"I watched this other group on Mandalore. This new...Empire," Brent continued. "There was just no pull for me to go there. Nothing beckoned me. None of my brothers or sisters called out to me. Hell, not even the thrill of the fight called me," Brent said quietly, trailing off as they continued.

Brent turned his shoulders a few times to avoid bumping into others as they continued at a hurried pace away from the spaceport.

"It was Mand'alor that brought me back," Brent said finally and definitively. "He and Feydriik in that bar when I first saw the others from the Covenant. It was chance I was there really, just a lucky chance." Brent looked around at the other passersby as he continued walking and talking.

"I may not have ever come to the Covenant without him, truly. He sees something in your group, something I cannot yet. But my hope," Brent sighed as he continued to walk and talk, "My hope is that I find the spark that keeps burning this time, the spark that doesn't," Brent snapped his fingers as he said this last piece, "Just go out."

 

[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Tor Valum, Kestri
​

Tags: Brent Warnel

Romul's steps were long and ponderous. They were heading away from the landing pads into the heart of the city, into the Gdatrsa'na, the Bannerfall. Anciently, Clan Kyron had carved a massive ravine through the mountain, building their city out of the quarried stone. Their foundations remained, covered first by ruins of the Enclave's construction, under which now was the Iron Covenant's rebuilding of the world.

Massive banners bearing the Covenant's symbol or that of major Clans who had sworn to it hung draped from tall towers and parapets of stone. Smoke of cookfires and the noise of bustling from the Hearth District below wafted up through concourses linking the two layers of the city.

'If there were any wisdom I might impart on you, it is this." He stopped to turn and look squarely at Brent. "I fought under the banners of three Mand'alors. I've watched thousands die under a handful more. The tale of Mand'alor and Mandalore only ever ends in sorrow." The fire burned behind his steel eyes. "Carduul Akal is a good, honorable warrior. His voice is welcome counsel on the Rekav'dral. But there is none," conviction laced every word, "worthy of the title, of what it represents. The only one I would deign to bow the knee to, refused it, and she has now joined the Manda."

He swept a hand over the city of Tor Valum. The spires. The rising fires from the forges. The banners that stood proud. "Behold what breaking those chains has led to. Kestri is indomitable, but even then, a planet does not define us. We are Mandalorians; our destiny is in the stars, where we will carve ourselves into legend." He turned his gaze back to Brent. "Do you have what it takes, Warnel? To become legend?"

 

[Brent Warnel]

TAG: Romul Saxon
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Brent pulled up short as Romul turned and began to speak. His words lit a fire in Brent as the big man spoke his piece, fervently believing what he said, for Brent saw them as callous. Just because one man didn't think Carduul was not worthy of the title meant little to him, for where was this man when the Mandalorians tore through the galaxy at the behest of the Anointed? If he didn't believe Carduul was worthy of the title, why not rise up and proclaim that then? None had.

"Carduul took up the crown of Mand'alor and was loved by the Crusaders, and by me. While you may not think he is worthy of that title, he was, and still is, in my eyes. And to the eyes of many others. I know that is not his path at this time, though, and it pains me to see someone relinquish that right, for it is an honourable title, regardless of its connotations and history. To have a group like the Crusaders follow a singular leader is no easy feat, and it shows the character of the individual."

Brent stared back at Romul, unyielding, "Your words stoke a fire in me I have not felt in some time, for I see them as anathema to my beliefs." Brent took a breath before continuing, showing the other Mandalorian he was dedicated to the Vode he had fought and bled with, but was not upset by this conversation.

"But you speak truth and wisdom. I have fought under many Clans and Empires of Mandalorians, but none had my utmost conviction until I joined the Crusaders. For me to withdraw from that life now will be difficult. Maybe impossible. As I had finally found somewhere," Brent clenched his fist as he finished, "That felt like home."

"Maybe the time of titles and old ways of life is coming to an end. Maybe it is time we change," Brent said as he looked around the City and the banners hanging from the walls and buildings. Change was not necessarily a bad thing, no matter what people thought. Mandalorians had risen up and died and risen up again. Sometimes they followed Mand'alor, sometimes they followed clan leaders, sometimes they followed themselves. Brent himself had been thinking of this hard lately, about how he wanted something to change so his people didn't get snuffed out over and over again. Maybe Romul had a point.

"I don't know if legend has ever crossed my mind when I think of myself," Brent replied directly now to Romul's question. "When I think of legends, I think of my ancestor, not me. But," Brent continued, "I fear something must change for us to survive. So...yes, I think I am ready. But I'll need a weapon."

 

[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Tor Valum, Kestri
​

Tags: Brent Warnel

Romul hadn't expected the warrior to take lightly to Romul's thinly-veneered disdain for the title Mand'alor. He respected the warrior Carduul who had borne it, but that title was all but dead to him, and those of Clan Saxon who were loyal to their Alor. Still, the loyalty that Warnel displayed towards his Mand'alor was commendable, if nothing else. Loyalty was one of the most valuable traits a Mandalorian could have, and a Mandalorian without loyalty was practically dar'manda in the veteran's eyes.

"Legends cannot die," Romul proclaimed, surprisingly perceptive to what Brent was thinking at his words. "We shall become legend, and we shall break the cycle that shackles the Mando'ade in chains." Should the Manda judge them worthy, he might add. Once, he had been thirsty for blood and battle, but now his dreams of conquest were tempered by experience. The purpose of the Covenant was bigger than him, than his clan, than any individual Mandalorian under its banners.

Brent continued, "I fear something must change for us to survive. So...yes, I think I am ready. But I'll need a weapon."

"Aye," Romul agreed. "And a new helmet," he added with a glance at the cracked helm that Brent held. "I will send you to the Bloodforges. The finest beskarsmiths are found on Kestri, vod. You will see." Romul flashed a sharp grin; he was satisfied to be united by purpose with this warrior.

 

[Brent Warnel]

TAG: Romul Saxon

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"Aye," Brent replied to the big man, "Legends cannot die."

"Aye," Romul agreed. "And a new helmet," he added with a glance at the cracked helm that Brent held. "I will send you to the Bloodforges. The finest beskarsmiths are found on Kestri, vod. You will see." Romul flashed a sharp grin; he was satisfied to be united by purpose with this warrior.

Brent looked down at his helmet, at the cracked visor and busted interior, where his recent battle with the Jedi had damaged the internals of both his helmet and his jetpack. The jetpack was an easy replacement, but the helmet, however, not so much. This helmet was of his time in the Clans, with old friends and a past he had almost forgotten. His armor was even older, taken from his ancestor on the moon of Dxun. A new helmet, of an old design, could make it whole again.

Brent had never heard of the Bloodforges, but then again, he had never been to Kestri, so it made sense he would not have.

"I would be in your debt," Brent said, slightly bowing his head, "This armor has come a long way. It has a very storied history. I would see it made whole again."