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?"