An Unexpected Party

[Jor Kvall]

/ K R O W N E S T \​

​

Snow rained like tears here on Krownest.​

It flowed like the lifeblood of this planet​

and its people;​

this mountain, the beating heart.​

The everlowing peak reached, godlike,​

into the gray skies,​

a monolith for all to see from miles away.​

In this part of the world,​

this mountain was the center of the universe.​

A teetering and treacherous journey inside​

would first need to be conquered​

in order to reach its recesses.​

Inside this mountain was power.​

Here, locked deep inside,​

was the mountain king's throne.​

​

The skies were unfriendly to ships today.​

A cold blizzard raged,​

as unforgiving as it was​

to the earth-hardened spirits of the Kvall.​

The arc trail of a ship​

blazed across the greyscape,​

noticeable enough for blue eyes below to follow it.​

The people looked on from below,​

wiping flecks of snow from their eyelashes,​

watching the ship​

slash its way through the clouds.​

Where it came from, nobody knew.​

​

But it was headed this way.​

​

[member="Magdalena Lethe"]​

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Something's wrong on this ship now,
That's not Mandalore
Oh feth, we're gonna crash.

A haiku by Magdalena Lethe.



To her credit, she didn't crash, but the landing wasn't her practiced grace and skill. A winter gale was billowing white walls of snow and the shadow of the great mountain had made it damn near impossible to judge distance. Had it not been for the advanced scanners of the Magesteria, Magda thought to herself, this might've been a lot more life threatening.

She'd been making her way back towards Mandalore, for what reason she couldn't say, but a brief interlude in ORC space had introduced her to a desire to retrace her steps. Find herself in the path she'd already taken. Figure out what made her tick then so that, maybe, she could get the clockwork moving again. No such luck - somehow she ended up here and she wasn't even sure where here was.

The Magesteria sat in the gale on the outskirts of a large settlement, engines winding down amidst the tumult of white. Had she the option, Magda would have simply ridden out the storm and waited for it to pass before being on her way again, but the stats indicator on her command consol told her there was need for action. Her water supply tank had cracked somewhere between the entry and the landing and she was not likely to last long in space without it.

No telling how long this storm would take, either.

She stuffed her Marauder's bag with extra battery packs, rations, survival supplies, and a few odds and ends. A stealing breath, an extra layer against the cold and a hammering heart joined her on a harrowing adventure from the saftey of her ship to the unknown of the town.

 

[Jor Kvall]

The ship fell like a stone from the heavens,​

disappearing behind some snow-banked hill.​

The town militia had seen the fiery trail​

of the ship inside, and had mustered,​

with weapons in tow,​

to follow the plume of snow​

created by the downed ship.​

Their speeder bikes buzzed to life like angry bees,​

braying through clouds of snow​

as they traced their way toward [member="Magdalena Lethe"].​

They stopped​

when they saw the figure, alone,​

moving towards them.​

One person, a woman,​

whose face was hidden behind a mask,​

just as their own visages hid​

behind their Mandalorian helmets.​

The bikes encircled her,​

and the Mandalorians looked upon her​

with great curiosity, their spears held high​

in the air but ready to encroach.​

​

Behind the woman,​

her ship let out an unhealthy hiss.​

​

One of the guards spoke to her,​

moving his attention back from the ship​

to Magdalena again.​

​

"What is your business here?"​

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

The snow was deep enough to make the journey difficult for a fit man or woman. For Magda, still recuperating from Ichor, it made it almost painful. By the time the speeders had reached her the thrumming of her heart was so profound that it hurt and she balked not for their threatening appearance, but the thought that maybe she might not have the walk the rest of the way.

"Peace," Magda said after catching her breath, hands held aloft, no weapon visible on her figure, "I mean no ill-will. I...miscalculated a hyperspace jump," had she? No, she did not think so, but without time to consider the why it was the most relevant reason that came to mind, "I meant for Mandalore to seek an old friend, Alor Ioren of the Ioren Beskar Mining Clan. My ship's water container is damaged. I just need to replace it and wait out the storm then I'll be on my way."

 

[Jor Kvall]

The warriors exchanged glances on their perches. Meanwhile the wind moaned, biting Magdalena and the Mandalorian warriors before her with stabbing gusts of ice and snow. Finally, the one who had spoken dismounted his speeder, and moved toward the masked woman.

"Ride ahead to the mountain hall," He pointed out one of his companions. "Inform the Alor that we have a foreigner in custody."

Then, the armored man placed an arm around Magdalena's waist, helping her onto his speeder bike. Mounting the bike behind her, the pedal was depressed and at once they were off again, hissing wildly through the Krownest snowscape. Up they went, past hills and rocks, on a narrow trail that led all the way to the entrance of the mountain, marked with an arching black gate. Once dismounted from their speeders, the guardsmen led the woman down an expansive, dark foyer, torches illuminating the way with glowing fire upon rock. Finally, they reached a towering room with an illuminated throne in the center, light pouring down from some unknown source above, perhaps a window to the sky itself. Upon the throne sat Jor Kvall, wearing Mandalorian armor encased in bone. He sat back in his perch, unmoving.

"Well met, foreigner," His voice dinned, echoing across the otherwise silent chamber. "Will you remove your mask before I remove mine, so that I can see the character of your eyes?"

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Her suit protected her from a wide variety of things. Boasting some of the most technologically advanced materials available throughout the galaxy, Dr. Roenkari had promised it would be safe in most extreme environments. Heat, cold, radioactive, and a variety of other settings Magda couldn't recall. But hearing it from the Scientist's mouth and experiencing it first hand were two very different things.

Magda was certain she felt frozen by the time they arrived, but she was more certain she'd be dead were it not for the suit. It was stubbornly mobile, shrugging off the effects of the frigid air and ice, but she realized far too late that she'd not changed the settings for thermoregulation accurately enough. The woman hugged at her arms, shivering in stride with her captors as they lead her into the great hall.

The light pouring down over the man on the throne shimmered across the visor of her mask as she angled her head to look up at him.

"With deepest regrets, I cannot remove my mask," Magda bowed her head apologetically, "I am very ill, Sir. My body cannot fight infection. This suit protects me and keeps me alive. I ask for understanding and mean no offense."

 

[Jor Kvall]

A pregnant silence hung in the air between them. The masked Mandalorian sat upon his cold throne, leaning back to rest a hand upon his helmet, eyeing the woman through and through - or at least as much of her as was visible. The shapely curves of a woman were there, ensconced tightly by a strange purple armor, but no face to be seen.

"Come here," Jor Kvall finally said, and leaned forward in his throne.

As Magdalena came toward his throne, so too did he part from it, standing to reveal his full height. He moved towards her to within mere feet, then inches, their helmets nearly touching. His hands lifted to the base of his bone helmet, unbuckling the chinstrap and slowly lifting it overhead by its horns. The helmet slid off, first revealing a brown beard, followed by bright eyes perched beneath short, wild blonde hair. Unmasked, Jor Kvall leaned in close to examine past Magda's visor, his nose inches away from her helmet. His shimmering bright eyes picked up on the glow of her own.

"There you are," He whispered, and took a step back.

"Your affliction must be great indeed. My men tell me you purport to be a friend to my people. Tell me, who is the Mandalorian you know?" His voice echoed through the chamber again.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

She may have come face to face with some of the galaxy's most noteworthy and powerful business CEO's, but nothing quite compared to or prepared her for the greeting with this Mandalorian Alor. Magda did her best to remain calm, trying not to let the visions of what could happen run rampant through her thoughts as she stared up into the eyes of the King. What he could see through the tinted visor of her helmet and the faint fog within she couldn't say, but it seemed to be enough.

Magda released a shivering breath of relief and hoped the man couldn't hear the concussive beating of her heart.

"Alor..." the reply caught in her parched throat, she swallowed, "Alor Ioren of the Ioren Beskar Mining Clan. He helped me and a friend several years ago on Mandalore. He was a gracious host and a kind man. I meant to pay him a visit but I...somehow ended up here on this planet."

 

[Jor Kvall]

"Alor Ioren," Jor said, turning the name around on his tongue. It was not a clan he was intimately familiar with, though their beskar mining operation rang a bell. "The beskar miners. Yes."

Magda's voice came out hoarse and ragged, which did not go unnoticed by the Alor of House Kvall. Seemingly satisfied, Jor returned to his heavy throne and sat back upon it, his bone armor clinking against the hard surface.

"You are welcome as a guest in my hall," He finally decreed, and waved a hand at his attendants. "Bring food and drink for our guest," He said to them.

When the attendant by his throne had left, only Jor and Magda remained in the dimly lit hall. The Alor's helmet rested on the armrest of his chair, beneath his forearm, as he continued to study the guest with another hand beneath his chin.

"You overshot your destination, to say the least, but not overly far. I am Jor Kvall. This is Krownest, House Kvall territory," He introduced himself.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

"Oh-" Magda cringed behind her mask, holding up a hand to the attendants as they left, presumably to gather food and drink for her, "that's...that's not necessary. I can't remove my mask here-"

and they were gone,

"...to eat."

The woman sighed in defeat, wringing her fingers together out of building anxiety for the moment she would have to turn all their hard work away. It was situations like these that made her the most uncomfortable, just knowing there was that kind of moment coming. She turned her attention back to the King as he spoke up, offering a nod in greeting.

"Well, I'm uncertain how it happened but here we are. I am honored to be your guest ... Alor Kvall." He hadn't introduced himself as Alor but judging by the throne it seemed an appropriate boot for the foot. "My name is Magdalena Lethe, Founder and CEO of the organization called GUIDE. I would be surprised if you've heard of it this far out. In honesty I've never heard of Krownest ... it wasn't even on my navigational maps, much to my surprise when I came out of hyperspace to find a planet where there shouldn't be one."

 

[Jor Kvall]

The ability of his guest to consume food through her apparatus was not a thought unconsidered, however, that was assuming all the food was for her.

"You can eat, or not," The Alor of House Kvall said, now rising from his throne to his full height, shuffling down the steps toward the large rectangular table at the center of the room. "I, however, can't sustain myself on words alone, however fascinating the present company may be."

Magdalena Lethe seemed polite enough, if incredibly odd. Jor had to wonder how she survived with her disabilities; perhaps she was forced to feed intravenously. He would not pursue the question though, not out of impoliteness, but because it simply didn't matter.

"We don't get many visitors here," Jor replied, taking a seat at the head of the table. "We prefer it that way."

Looking up at her, Jor offered a slight upturn of a smile. Then, he began to pour a reddish liquid into his goblet from a pitcher.

"You're right. I've never heard of GUIDE. What is your purpose?"

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

He found her fascinating?

"Oh...of course," Magda managed a nervous laugh, taking a few steps in his direction as he moved to the table. She didn't sit, but shivered on the spot. It wasn't particularly cold in this place, though colder than she was used to, but the oddness of his smile struck her as unnerving. It reminded her of her grandmother - a woman of such cunning repute that even her smiles couldn't be taken at face value.

"Well...GUIDE is an acronym. It stands for Galactic United Information Database Enclave. The purpose was to build a publicly accessible network of knowledge relevant to each system and planet. We find and map out routes, list local businesses and bodies of power, notable landmarks and cities, and compile the information necessary for safer travels and more informed decision making. For instance, were I collecting data on your planet, I would make a conscious effort to denote that you are not fond of visitors..."

 

[Jor Kvall]

"Forgive me if I've given you the wrong impression," Jor seemed to recoil at Magdalena's insinuation. "It's not that we are inhospitable to visitors. We simply prefer to do things our own way here on Krownest."

Jor took her words to mean his hospitality was in question, which was itself something of an offense in Mandalorian, especially House Kvall, culture. Perhaps he had inadvertently done something to unnerve her, though observing her standing awkwardly behind one of the seats at his table, she certainly seemed the awkward one.

"Have a seat," he gestured to the table in front of her, the seat adjacent to his own at the end of the table. "The chairs don't bite. I promise."

She was shivering, too. Jor stood up and crossed back towards his throne, over which was draped a tauntaun hide, bearing a stuffed head with horns and all. It was not the picture of cosmopolitan style, but tauntaun fleece was as warm as anything in the galaxy. He took it from the throne and draped it over the back of Magda's chair, and returned to his own.

"You've been out in the cold for too long with too little to wear. The atmosphere of Krownest can be dangerous to the ill-prepared."

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Oh, well.

Magda shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She hadn't meant it like that - only that she wouldn't want to misrepresent the desires of his clan. The last thing she wanted was to offend a Mandalorian Clan, but Force if the cultures between clans weren't sometimes as different as cultures between planets.

"I only meant that-"

"Have a seat. The chairs don't bite, I promise."

"ahm... yes."

She sat down in the indicated chair, not wanting to make any further offense to the man. Customs customs customs. It was a bit like walking on eggshells around these Alors. The woman sat rigidly on the chair, trying not to think of how cold it felt, and cautiously followed the Alor's movements back to his throne.

"I've only ever met one other Alor," she began mildly, "Alor Ioren of course. I'm beginning to think he's a little unorthodox for your people. He seemed very-" a blink as the tauntaun fleece was deposited on her chair, "casual I guess is the word. Thank you," there was no lack of gratitude for the gesture as she tugged the fleece over her shoulders and hunkered into the warmth. Magda only wished she could feel it, the fleece looked very soft.

"I had previously programmed the settings on my suit for the environment of Mandalore. When I saw the snow I only had time to make a quick adjustment. I underestimated the climate. Is it always covered in snow?"

 

[Jor Kvall]

Jor believed it odd that Magda would find him the rigid one, especially after how she looked right now, sitting pin-straight in the chair, clearly still uncomfortable. Though it was difficult for him to perceive his own menace; the sight of his ghostly bone armor upon his cold throne was probably not the most welcoming visage. Nor was the general atmosphere of Krownest, as cold and unforgiving as the Alor himself. The cold winters here bred hard people, but amidst their toil and self-imposed hardship they found happiness, dancing, prayer, even resonating warmth, if one but spent enough time around them to feel it.

"Perhaps I should tell a joke to lighten the mood. Then I'll be more like your Ioren," Jor offered the faintest smile before finally taking a sip from his goblet.

"Almost always, at these latitudes," He then answered her question. "Krownest is generally a cold place. The poles are uninhabitable, but we can make our home between these mountains and let the snow harden us, while still being able to grow food in the summer. Even in winter, there is plenty to hunt, fish and trap, if one knows where to look. And one should, if they consider themselves a Kvall."

Jor took a bite from the rib on his plate. It was too bad Magda couldn't eat like a normal person.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Too bad, indeed. Magda didn't allow her gaze to linger on the food. It was best not to look at it at all, really. Being reminded of all the normal things she now could not partake in never helped to lift her mood. She focused instead on the Alor's words.

"It's amazing how a culture adapts. I've seen so many different peoples in my travels. The galaxy really is full of variety," the woman faintly tipped her head to the side as she watched him, "have you traveled much, Alor Kvall, beyond the Mandalorian Empire?"