Private Broken Forges

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

The sound of metal against metal clanged across the training yard. Grunting, footsteps, shouting. Within the training yards of the Enclave's Commandos, a towering man and young woman sparred. Both fully clad in their beskar'gams, the two practiced precise Mandalorian core in displays of skill and discipline. Neither seemed to be gaining the advantage over the other, and the girl feared that her stamina would drain far before the Giant's. She was doing her best, panting and sweating beneath her buy'ce. Targeting limbs and attempting indirect imbalances as opposed to direct attacks, which simply would not work against his size.

During the match, however, her vision changed. Flashes of reds, purples, and yellows glowed in her field of sight. A gripping headache came upon her, and she froze mid-punch. She brought her hands up, instinctively gripping her head as pain pounded behind her eyes and in her forehead. The moment after, even as the headache commenced, the Giant was making his move...

Kranak Vizsla Ijaat Mereel

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Sweat Saves Blood
​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Training Grounds
Local Time: 10:19
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Spar
Secondary Objective: Continue Gwyn’s Training
Equipment: Loadout 1 (Minus the Rifle and Scatter Gun) + Goran’s Stand
Tags: Gwyneira Vizsla | Ijaat Mereel

​

Their fists crashed on each others’ vambraces as both buir[1] and adi’ka[2] countered the other, the thunderous clanging of armored gauntlets against beskar blended with the guttural grunting, shouting and exchange of insults between other warriors that sparred in a similar fashion within the halls of the spacious training grounds of The Kom’rk[3]; a chaotic, raucous cacophony.

He had trained her well. As much as this was a physical clash, it was a fight of the minds as well. Trying to read her battle strategy became more difficult with each passing day spent in training, with the young one proving to be more and more resourceful in a fight and in live fire exercises.

Standing sideways with his feet kept at a shoulder width to protect his balance and reduce his silhouette to limit the surface area against his daughter’s strikes and blows, the giant’s elbows were tucked and close to his sides; his forearms raised over his chest, with his knuckles right under his chin. Forced to assume a defensive stance for the moment, he was waiting for the opportune moment to initiate his counter attack against Gwyn as she continued to batter him. Neither of them had quite gotten the upper hand on the other as the brawl waged on. Displays of technique, speed and aggression turned into a battle of attrition as time went on; stamina for every next step, every next punch, strike, block and parry taken into consideration, more so than ever.

Sensing an abrupt change in her pattern as her strike came to a grinding halt a few inches away from his left forearm, the giant seized the opportunity presented to him and commenced the execution of a leg sweep. Moving into her reach as she brought her hands up and gripping her head, the giant placed his front foot next to and inside hers, and swept his feet in an arc towards his other knee in one swift motion, sending her sprawling onto the ground on her back; a cloud of dust kicking up into the air swallowed her.

With the round coming to an end, his tensed up muscles loosened as the giant assumed a more relaxed posture. A muffled sigh escaped the giant’s helmet grill as he approached his foundling. He was getting worried for her well being. This marked the third rush of headache this month. Her Arkanian heritage, once pupilles eyes granting her infrared vision, was damnably taken away from her through a medical procedure in her captivity several months ago. Getting spikes of her old infrared vision back randomly, it caused her massive headaches. <”Perhaps this would have ended differently if you went through with the surgery,”> he said as he leaned forward, his right hand extended towards her, offering her assistance to get her back up on her feet. <”Why do you have to be so stubborn?”> The giant said with a soft chuckle as she got up.

Lowering his macrobinoculars and activating its built in medisensor, The Vizsla grasped her gently by her shoulders to take a closer look at her, initiating a quick scan of her cranium. <”Are you feeling good to continue, or would you like to take a short break, adi’ka?”> The Alor’ad inquired with a hint of worry in his tone as the quick scan commenced.

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Buir = Father/Mother.
[2] Adi’ka = Son/Daughter
[3] Kom’rk = Gauntlet. In this context, it is the name given to the Enclave’s primary training ground of the Si’kahya and Mandalorians alike. Located in Kestri.

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Theme | Location: Kestri, The Kom'rk, Training Grounds | Objective: Close old wounds for good​

At one time, Mereel had reached out to Vizsla recently, only to have their efforts fail to enact a lasting change as the A'lor seemingly vanished. But that wouldn't do. In this age there were too few of the mando'ade to nurse old grudges. The Enclave was on the precipice of something great, and he intended to help it stand shelter to his people as well he could. Dressed in full armor, the Gar'buir disembarked from a transit ship that had been ferrying supplies and soldiers to Kestri and made his way to the training grounds that had been indicated as the current location of the man he sought.

A rising star in the rival House, many whispered he might be the next Alor. Surely, most looked to him for de facto leadership during these times. And so Ijaat had researched the man, learning his past and his legend. And in the style that had come to be typical for him, he had retreated to his forge on Vametaye, both to summon the Protectors and begin reviving them in truth, and to use the Nexus there to craft a weapon befitting the titanic warrior of House Vizsla known as Kranak Vizsla .

Approaching the training grounds, his olive drab armor would stand out in the colors of the Journeyman Protector, the leader of the Protectors. That name had meant many things over the centuries, but it seemed a fitting title now as any. His armor, made of bes'manda, faintly radiated in the Force and glowed softly even under the paint. To his side followed a forge droid, holding in it's hands a sturdy wooden box nearly as large as it, banded in beskar and made of 'taung war oak' gleaming stark white with golden patterns and veined knots in the wood.

Clearing his throat as Kranak and Gwyneira Vizsla ceased sparring, he would reach up to remove his helmet and place it to hang on the handle of his beskad, revealing a weather-beaten face that in appearance was not unlike old shoe leather. Golden-brown eyes stared from a face that sported a closed cropped silver-white beard and moustache, and a buzz cut style close cap of the same color hair. Once sure they had realized he was there, he raised a hand and the droid following stopped shortly behind.

"Su'cuy. I am Ijaat of House Mereel. I come under truce to speak to one Kranak of House Vizsla. Am I addressing said warrior now?"

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

This headache was thankfully a quick one. By the time Kranak was checking her vitals, it had subsided. Gwyn looked up to the Giant and sighed. She looked away, a trace of fear in her eyes.

"I don't want to be in another operating room..."

It was too soon. Too soon to be strapped to yet another table, prodded and tested and broken and rebuilt. She was too frightened to willingly enter a med bay again. Even to fix her eyes.

She reached and took his hand, gauntlet to gauntlet, "I can keep going, headache's gone now."

Gwyn looked down to the two gauntlets and sighed. Her own gauntlets were the combat gloves gifted to her by her Alor, Shai Krayt, before she went missing. Gwyn was spending an increasing amount of time searching for Shai through research, cameras, slicing into bounty hunter and mercenary systems to see if she could be found there. So far, however, nothing came up. And every time she laid eyes on the gaunts and used them in combat, she thought of the closest person she had to a mother figure again.

Kranak's own gauntlets were powered by a synthetic kyber crystal powered by, well, suffering. It was similar yet different from Bleeding. Just for the time training, Gwyn had taken Force Sense Nullifiers so she wouldn't feel the agony within the crystal. With her usually sharp Force Sense numbed, however, she was less aware of her surroundings. As Kranak helped Gwyn up, both turned and saw another Mandalorian approaching them. Gwyn let out a little eep, caught off guard.

Said Mandalorian spoke in a formal tone, a proper meeting between Mandalorians of honor. He was one of the oldest Mandalorians she had ever seen, and he carried himself in a sage and dignified manner. Due to him removing his buy'ce, she was sure he followed the Resol'nare as opposed to The Way. In response to his request for her buir, Gwyn took a step back while removing her own buy'ce to match the mood he was setting. Her hair, which was been in a ponytail, dropped long. Even tied back, it was waist length. She looked to Kranak when he was asked for, wondering what the newcomer wanted with her buir. If it was not for him already establishing peace and respect in Kestri, the heart of the Enclave, Gwyn would have been suspicious of his intentions. With everything set out to be on good terms, however, she was simply curious.

She held her buy'ce in her hands, as to not take on the laxed posture putting it under her arm could portray. She watched the two elders with intelligent interest.

Kranak Vizsla Ijaat Mereel

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

An Unexpected Visit​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Training Grounds
Local Time: 10:21
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Learn of the Mereel’s Intentions
Secondary Objective: Spar & Continue Gwyn’s Training
Equipment: Loadout 1 (Minus the Rifle and Scatter Gun) + Goran’s Stand
Tags: Ijaat Mereel | Gwyneira Vizsla

​

”I don’t want to be in another operating room…”

The pair of frightened amber eyes were shrouded underneath a visor for the giant to see, yet he sensed the trace of dread in her voice before she grasped the hand extended towards her from the vambrace and got up. The giant gave her a slow, understanding nod. He was trying to encourage her to follow through with the procedure to cure the random and stunningly sharp headaches of hers, but he did not insist. He never forgot how frightened she was, upon waking up in the infirmary after her rescue from that dreadful space station. The medics unable to calm her down, he had to step in directly and soothe her.

”I can keep going, headache’s gone now.”

Satisfied with the scan yielding no negative results in her vitals, and from her persistence for more training, the Alor’ad[1] lifted the helmet mounted macrobinoculars with a grin hidden underneath his faceplate. <”Alright then,”> He said, as he walked backwards a few steps before continuing on with round three. Having not even taken his third step, the giant halted as he heard a man clearing his throat at the giant’s six o’clock, just as the giant was about to assume a defensive stance of the Mandalorian Core. Seemingly surprised, an ‘eek’ from his daughter followed a moment after. His buy’ce[2] tilted slightly to the side in mild confusion in response. Not a moment after, the giant traced the kid’s gaze, laying eyes on an elderly vod; clad in olive drab beskar’gam[3], with a palm sized, centuries old insignia belonging to the Journeyman Protectors stenciled on his armor.

Without sparing it a glance, the man gestured to the forge droid walking behind him to stop before he spoke, identifying himself and his intentions.

”Su’cuy. I am Ijaat of House Mereel. I come under truce to speak to one Kranak of House Vizsla. Am I addressing said warrior now?”

Somewhat surprised by the unexpected encounter, the giant responded in a neutral tone nevertheless. <”Su cuy’gar, vod,[4]”> the Alor’ad said, responding in a formal manner as he spoke to the older Mandalorian before him with telltale signs of respect. With age came experience, and in a life where most Mandalorians regrettably began their long march to the Oversoul at a young age, it would be disrespectful to forsake the respect an old warrior rightfully deserved.


Reaching for his buy’ce, the giant removed his helm and tucked it under his left arm; the glowing white visor faded slowly into an obsidian black as its HUD[5] turned off automatically. “Aye,” the giant said, giving a curt nod of his head, confirming he was the individual the old warrior sought out. “I am Kranak of House Vizsla. What good wind brings you here, warrior?” He asked; his facial features, host to a number of scars both shallow and deep, had assumed a neutral expression; betraying the intrigue in his dark brown eyes. He was unsure as to what he owed the pleasure.

​

Spoiler: Translations and Abbreviations

[1] Alor’ad = Captain.
[2] Buy’ce = Helmet.
[3] Beskar’gam = Armor.
[4] “Su cuy’gar, vod”. = “Greetings, brother.”
[5] HUD = Heads Up Display.

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Theme | Location: Kestri, The Kom'rk, Training Grounds | Objective: Close old wounds for good
Tags: Kranak Vizsla | Gwyneira Vizsla ​

"I come to seal old wounds. In the recent and distant past our Houses have been at open war. To that end, I propose a forgiveness of wrongs done to both sides, and to seal that, I offer this."

A gesture of his crush-gauntleted hand towards the droid at his side, and the lid of the box opened to reveal a handsome and masterfully carved hammer that faintly glowed. Those who could use the Force could sense it's presence faintly echoing and calling to them, the fateful bes'manda worked hammer radiated golden light and a faint heat. For those who touched it or drew near, it would 'speak' in ways, sending images of a Mandalore whole and prosperous before Ijaat's deeds began it's long road to ruin.

"All of my craft and might has went into making a gift for the one many in your house already look to for leadership. I have altered this kyber beskar down to the very molecular level, and built it stronger than anything you've likely seen before. Such a venerable line as yours should not be so long bereft of a guiding hand. I give it to you now in hopes of peace between us, and in hopes of encouraging what I gauge as a man of honor to take the mantle before him. Trust an old has been, it usually doesn't give up until it's wrapped around your shoulders anyway. Best to chose it on your terms."

The formality had worn off by the end of his speaking, and now some of the true nature of the Iron Father showed through, a slight drawl in his tone and a smirk that was at once amused and yet kindly, eyes remaining distant and worn by care beyond the glint of the hawk-like coloring. Something is his stance seemed, even before, wearied beyond measure but still capable of great violence in a moment.

"Pick it up, if you want, and see how it feels in hand."

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

Oh. This conversation had nothing to do with her. It seemed to be about matters way before her, but the mention of grudges and the past was a worrisome. Gwyn looked over to her buir with a concerned look, What is this about? And what if Buir is still upset? Will a fight break out?

Then, the lid of the box opened. Despite her Force nullifying drugs, Gwyn felt something emitting from the metal within. What was that? It took a moment, wondering why she sensed it despite her nullifiers, before she realized that she was looking at a large, powerful, artistic hammer. It looks amazing! Is that metal glowing? Oh, it's so beautiful! It's art!

Of course, she was put off by what she was feeling. Was her Force Sense that potent? Or was the object that powerful? Was it both? Gwyn's head began to spin, how could she manage both objects as Kranak carried them at the same time? Still, she subconsciously took a step forward without realizing it, looking at the hammer with an intensely absorbed expression. Lips tight, eyes narrow, she peered at the Hammer. Images. She saw images in her mind. Glass domes protecting a planet's capital from white deserts. Forests and wildlife, lush trees. Cities of crystalline and glass, with Mandalorian architecture and culture. She saw… Mandalore. Yet, it was not a hologram or picture like she had seen in her studies. No, these were actual memories.

What… what is this?

The energy coming from the hammer was… cool. It was not too cold or bitter, but it felt like a chilly breeze through the Force. What did it mean? She held the brim of her buy'ce with one hand as her arm lowered, still holding it. This was a similar atmosphere to kyber crystals, just like her own. Yet, it felt far larger. Was the beskar Force imbued? Was that possible? With a soft, mesmerized breath, she extended her other arm, extending her free hand, to touch it - before swiftly pulling back when Ijaat's voice cut in, asking Kranak to take it himself. Oops!

Lowering her arm, she stepped back again, still staring deep at the hammer. Meanwhile, another, far darker presence also weakly called from Kranak. Gwyn winced when she realized that her Force nullifiers were wearing off. Will I have to excuse myself if this gets worse? I can already feel the crystals' suffering! Oh…

Her hand was lifted again, touching her buy'ce where her forehead would be. She turned away further, struggling not to ruin Kranak's moment… if she had not already.

Karking Force Sense! Why did I have to be so sensitive to this stuff! I think spending so long in a lab with Force Nullifiers pumped into me made me build a tolerance, I just took these and they're already fading!

Ijaat Mereel Kranak Vizsla