Private Blood Money

[Zavar Kelborn]

BLOOD, ICE, AND STEEL - CHAPTER 1
ROCHE
TAG: Droz Munin | Ninurta Slaabur'r
GEAR: in bio

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

[Continuing from: Writing in the Stars]​

The descent through the Roche atmosphere was a struggle against the planet's erratic magnetic fields. From the command bridge of the Kar'ta Kelborn, the surface was a landscape of gray rock and sprawling, chitinous Verpine architecture, now marred by the industrial scars of a Beskar smuggling operation.

Outrageous.

To see Beskar being bartered away by scavengers and traitors was a desecration that made his own armor feel heavy with indignation. Every gram of stolen Mandalorian steel moving through these illegal veins was a piece of their collective soul being bartered for credits.

But more than that, this was his Trial. The Council had laid the path: if he could unify the disparate fires of the clans and purge this rot, the title of Voidbrand would be his. If he failed, he was just another Alor playing at being a king in a graveyard.

Zavar stepped onto the primary ramp as it hissed open, venting a cloud of recycled oxygen into the thin, sulfurous air of Roche. He didn't come alone. With him are Clan Kelborn, Clan Fett, and Clan Munin warrior, arriving united under the banner of the Iron Covenant. Zavar looked toward the deep, shadowed canyons where the Council's intelligence suggested a Beastmaster named Ninurta Slaabur'r resided. The Alor of Clan Kelborn had never met him, and he had no reason to expect Zavar.

Zavar keyed his external vocoders to a targeted, short-range burst aimed directly at the lip of the canyon.

<Ninurta Slaabur'r!> Zavar's voice cut through the whistling gale. <I am Alor Zavar Kelborn, and I have brought the fire of the Iron Covenant to your doorstep.>

He gestured with a gauntleted hand to the warriors fanning out behind him.

<I’m here with Droz Munin and Xion Fett, who’s riding on behalf of Alor Careena Fett . We have not come to Roche for hospitality.>

Zavar stepped closer to the edge, his gaze fixed on the darkness, his body facing the mouth of the cave, displaying Careena’s crimson handprint on his chest.

<A smuggling ring is bleeding our legacy dry, bartering Beskar in the shadow of an empire as if it were common scrap. Our intelligence says you know these tunnels better than any living soul. I am here to offer you the chance to see this thief's nest burned to ash alongside us.>​

 

[Droz Munin]

​

D r o z ‎‎ ‎ M u n i n

| Location | Roche​

| Objective | No Survivors​

​

Droz was awfully quiet during the trip to Roche, a troubling sign considering he was often heard insulting others without a care in the world. With the death of Vilaz, Droz found himself in an odd position of taking orders from outside his clan, a position he did not enjoy. But the code dictated that might makes right, and Careena's besting of his alor dictated that he obey - at least until a new alor rose to take Vilaz's place. For now, he would obey.​

​

The Munin looked over at the Kelborn and Fett he accompanied, a side-eyed glare from beneath his helmet, sheathing his blade as he rested his hand on its hilt while waiting for Ninurta Slaabur'r to reveal himself. They were tasked with dealing with a smuggling ring that was moving beskar; he himself personally did not care much for the task, only the bloodshed that would result, hopefully to put himself in a better state of mind.​

Zavar Kelborn | Xion Fett | Ninurta Slaabur'r