Faction Bushido | Iron Covenant

[Darion of Myrkr]

BUSHIDO​

After the Incident on Ryloth and the Skirmish at Dressel, the Mandalorian warriors withdraw to the frozen world of Kestri to prepare for the trials ahead. For too long, the clans of Mandalore have been scattered, divided, and hunted. Easy prey for the aruetii of this galaxy.

No more.

Across the icy strongholds of Kestri, the forgemasters ignite their furnaces. Warships are reborn in their fires and Beskar is hammered into armor and weapons worthy of a warrior. The clans sharpen their blades and steel their spirits, for war -- the truest proving ground of honor -- draws near.

Yet a warrior's own edge must never dull.

Within a snowbound valley of the Cin'haastal Mountains, makeshift gladiatorial arenas have been raised. There, Mandalorians gather to test themselves against one another in the purest art known to warriors: personal combat. A great tourney has begun, and from it one champion will rise above the rest.

For the Mandalorian, there is only one path.

Bushido. The way of the warrior.


--
Tourney bracket & rules:

• weapons used: i will roll a randomizer for each match ticket and tell u what the match weapons used will be
• 3 rounds of posts rolling a d20
• the one with higher tally by the end, defeats and eliminates their opposition, and heads - to the next round
• soft 48 hr rule between posts
• only the final is 5 rounds of posts rolling a d20, higher tally wins.

Tourney Rewards:

• bragging rights
• cool champion bling ill make. i cook dw.
• Free drinks for a year at the Gilded Hearth
• some cool factory item made by a factory lunatic, maybe. Idk, I dont do factory, lmao.

Round 1 Weapons of Choice:

Yael Kandar vs Senec Ahn-Dross — Beskads / Vibroswords

Kjartan Hammer-Hand vs Siv Dragr — Maces / Warhammers

Signy Bralor vs Darion of Myrkr — Combat Knives / Daggers

Vreegan Fett vs Sahan Dragr — Polearms

Carduul Akahl vs Brent Warnel — Blaster Pistols

 

[Signy Bralor]

SIGNY BRALOR
OUTER RIM | THE PIRATE'S MOON
TAG: Darion of Myrkr
VISIBLY PRESENTING: Deliberately ambiguous - fully armoured

Signy was ready for this tournament, she was fully armoured in her Bralor armor. On one of her arms she wore her buckler shield and in the other she carried a long curved combat knife that she held high in a ready stance with her shield forwards.

She adressed her opponent, a mandalorian she had never met before who stood nearly ten inches taller. She adressed him in mandalorian with her voice modulated to register somewhere between male and female so there was no assumptions to be made.

"Good luck, brother, here is to an honorable fight"

As soon as the announcement was made she engaged, trying to stay quick and mobile and leverage her speed and use of her shield to get inside his guard and deliver a blow for the round.

​

 

[Senec Ahn-Dross]

Senec Ahn-Dross
Kestri | Cin'haastal Mountains
TAG: Yael Kandar

---

A Breeze swept over him as he strode out into the arena that had been erected for the tournament.

Earth felt uneven beneath his feet, the ground was different than the paneled flooring of a starship. He was still less accustomed to it than the long halls and corridors. The Wind was different as well, there was no wind in space and on a ship your breath seemed sterile and still but not here.

When this tournament was announced his Alor and father, Naimes Ahn-Dross had entered his son to give him more exposure amongst the Mando'ade similar to his older siblings.

Now Senec was here in a windswept and snowbound valley of the Cin'haastal Mountains.

He wore his Beskar'gam, the sigil of Clan Ahn-Dross evident on its pauldrons but went without a buy'ce revealed rugged but handsome features and the thick beard that accompanied them. A Vibrosword, its blade curved into a faint crescent was held in his right hand at height with his hip and angled towards his opponent Yael Kandar when he saw them...

"Vod."

An acknowledgement. He studied whatever he saw; weapon, armor, features, etc.

Then the hum of the vibrosword became apparent as it was activated. Rolling his wrist he'd bring the sword into an agile flourish which ended by resetting the sword in the original position angled towards his opponent. Despite how uneven the ground felt beneath his feet the sword felt natural in his grasp.

When the time came he found his footing but his movements were stiff, his feet were still awkward planetside.

In contrast he was patient and approached measurably, his first attacks were a quick flurry meant to have steel taste steel and test his opponents guard so that he could look for openings or maneuver her into a place where he could capitalize on a mistake. The Vibrosword hummed and would visibly vibrate, the humming only increased whenever it made contact with anything; weapon or armor.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

The hiss of the hydraulic door cut through the low hum of the Cin'haastal mountains as Vreegan stepped from the dim holding area, the blinding glare of Kestri's sun reflecting off the glacial walls forced his HUD to compensate instantly, shifting the world into a high-contrast shades of gray and blue in order to maintain a wide field of view.

The air was thin, carrying the scent of ozone and the distant thrum of the great furnaces. It was a familiar cold, the kind that reminded him of the outer rim outposts during the Neo-Crusader expansion, a cold that would weed out the weak here today before the first shot was even fired. In his grip, the weight of the Shock lance was unfamiliar, a crude replacement for the precision of a blaster or the cutting power of his favored Besk'ad.

Across the snowbound arena, the silhouette of Sahan Dragr loomed. Vreegan had heard the name, stories of Sahan's exploits had filtered through Mandalorian channels for years, an experienced warrior, a man who understood what it meant to be Mandalorian unlike those in the so-called Mandalorian Empire.

In another setting, they might have shared a bottle of tihaar and traded tactical assessments of their numerous enemies. But today the man was merely an obstacle between Vreegan and the preservation of a legacy. Clan Fett had endured enough stains on its name, and there was no intention to add defeated in a mountain pit to that growing list.

"Sahan Dragr," Vreegan's voice rumbled through the vocoder, a low, metallic rasp that didn't carry the heat of anger, only the tone of a former Field Marshal. "You are well-honored by the Mandalorian people, but on this day you are nothing but dirt beneath my heel." He didn't wait for a rebuke. Vreegan adjusted his stance, his heavy boots digging into the packed snow for traction.

The Resol'nare demanded he test his edge, and he intended to sharpen himself on Sahan's bones. He lunged forward, the shock lance leading the way in a deceptive thrust aimed at Sahan's midsection, intending to test the man's guard and the conductivity of his armor in a single, violent motion.

Spoiler: Combat Role 1

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

---

---

​

KESTRI | CIN’HAASTAL MOUNTAINS
TAG:
OPPS: Siv Dragr​

​

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND​

THEME​

​

It was not often that Kjartan could make use of his favored weapons in combat. He trained with them and other weapons to keep sharp (as ironic as it was to keep ‘sharp’ with hammers), and often had sparring matches with members of his crew. It was often said that “The Hammer may be old, but by Manda - his iron is somehow stronger”.

At the ‘ripe’ age of 48, Kjartan was in fact still in his prime by Mandalorian standards, if not in the twilight of it - and cut an imposing figure in his full armor. His horned T-visor helmet and pelt-cloak gave him the appearance of a warlord - rightfully so, considering the way he carried his two hammers in either hand. It would seem fate had smiled upon him as the random draw granted him the use of his favored weapons.

Although it was lost upon his foe, or anyone else observing him - Kjartan had a massive smirk on his lips as he felt the weight of his hammers. Fate or not, any advantage he could possess against his foe would be welcome. Kjartan did not know Siv Dragr personally, but rather - only by reputation. Siv had made a name for himself within the Enclave of old, while Kjartan sought the life of a pirate beyond their reach. He did not hold the same renown as Siv did in the eyes of his brethren, but that did not mean Kjartan was outmatched. In fact, the old pirate intended on demonstrating that he was more than a ship captain who partook in cantina brawls.

His visor locked with Siv, and the 6’-8” mountain of a man clanged the flat of his hammer against his breastplate in challenge to his opponent. He uttered no boast or verbal challenge, but instead unleashed a throaty roar of a battlecry: “HNNGHAAAAAAAR.”

With a surge of speed, Kjartan rushed toward his foe; lashing out with his hammers in a vicious opening attack. He began with a feint of his right hammer, a side-ways uppercut that appeared ready to take Siv’s chin with the hammer if it were to connect. But the feint stopped short, with Kjartan instead launching his real attack with his left - aiming a massive side-swipe toward what would hopefully be Siv’s exposed side and shoulder. The strength behind the strike would be amplified by the speed of his charge, easily of the level to cave-in metal as if from the strike of a smith.

Spoiler: First Roll

​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Darion smiled a little under the helmet. "To an honorable fight."

It was good to stand before an enemy and see them plain. On Mon Calamari, he had seen the rat-work of the rebel Jedi, and on Dressel there had been the one who fought like a ghost. Those things left a stain on a man. It was better this way. Warrior against warrior. A clean fight. Perhaps it would wash some of that stain away.

He turned the dagger in his hand and felt the weight of it. He had trained with knives before, but never long. The blade was small for him. It seemed almost a toy in his hand, meant for someone of his opponent's size rather than his.

Signy Bralor came fast. Moved nimble and quick, trying to close the distance. He saw it and would not allow it. His reach was what he had over Bralor and he would keep it.

He struck first. The knife went out in a short jab, and he stepped back at once to keep the space between them.

Signy Bralor

 

[Signy Bralor]

SIGNY BRALOR
OUTER RIM | THE PIRATE'S MOON
TAG: Darion of Myrkr
VISIBLY PRESENTING: Deliberately ambiguous - fully armoured

The taller man had reach and of course that meant his blade was the first to find solid matter. Luckily for Signy that something was her well positioned buckler shield and she made a riposte strike towards where most humans carried their kidneys.

She managed a glancing blow on him, even if the blades werent blunted for the duel it would not have been a killing strike, but there it was, a little mark on his bodyglove from the soft metal in the edge if the blade. It was enough to edge her into the lead for the first engagement, but her performance was still nothing to brag about.

​

 

[Brent Warnel]

MAND'ALOR
KESTRI
TAG: Carduul Akahl
GEAR: Bio

The wind whipped Brent's cloak out behind him, the deep purple garment billowing in the wind. Brent stood within an arena on the snowy planet of Kestri. A planet he had just been introduced to a few short weeks earlier, and now he was amongst a crowd of his fellow Mandalorians who had come to see this fight. He had come to Kestri to meet with Romul Saxon , and now he was in an arena testing his mettle against his fellow Vode. His life had moved quickly over these past few weeks, faster than it had in a long time.

With the help of his fellow vode, his helm was no longer that of a modern Mandalorian; it now took the shape of a Neo-crusader from ancient times. His armor was polished and shone with a fiery gleam in the tense light that reflected off the snowy surface of Kestri, his green and gold armor now accented by the purple cloak rippling behind him. His boots crunched in the snow as he shuffled slightly, listening to the whisperings of those around him.

He stood, amongst his kin, amongst the warriors he had just met and already bled for, head held high and focused. He stood across from his opponent, ready to fight, ready to win. But there was trepidation in his body, a nervousness he had not felt for years, because the individual across from him was not just any vod.

"Mand'alor the anointed," Brent said respectfully, dipping his helmet in acknowledgement. "Though we have fought together, bled together, killed together, we have not yet crossed blades. Today changes that."

A harsh wind swept through the arena, and Brent's cloak strung taught behind him, exposing the leather holster that contained the blaster pistol within it. Brent gave a subtle nod to Carduul and waited, hand held loosely by his side, near the pistol, but not on it. He waited, watching his Alor across from him. When the time came, he would know, and he would test his reflexes against Mand'alor's, seeing who was quicker.
​

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Kestri
​

Tag: Kjartan Hammer-Hand

A Mandalorian should be familiar with all forms of combat. That's what Clan Dragr drillmasters had taught Siv even before his own verd'gotten. Of course, a warrior would develop a preference, find their intersection of lethality and efficiency, and Siv was most adept with a blaster pistol and knife. When the occasion required, though, he would utilize almost any weapon of choice and had, as such, developed a high proficiency across a wide range of weapons.

Siv had never used a mace before.

He shifted the weight of the mace, uncomfortably heavy, as he sized up his opponent. Kjartan Hammer-hand, they called him. He'd heard talk of the former-pilot Mandalorian captain who stood almost a half-meter taller than Siv, was heavier-built, and seemed a lot more comfortable with the two war hammers he held in either hand. Siv had fought in more dire odds and won -- or at least come out alive -- but a strict duel like this would be a challenge.

Without warning, Kjartan charged him. Siv was expecting aggression from someone with his reputation. He changed his stance, ready to move. The heavy weapon made Kjartan telegraph his swing, a massive heave with his right hand at Siv's chin. He did not break under the pressure, but in a moment gauged the movement and stepped to his own right, to dodge the blow and hit Kjartan in the side with his mace. Then, with precision defying the brute of a Mandalorian, in a moment almost imperceptible, Kjartan halted his right-hand swing. THANG. His left-hand hammer caught Siv by surprise, clanging against his metal pauldron. Kinetic shock dampers absorbed what would have otherwise pulverized flesh and bone, but the hit neutralized Siv's attack. He growled in pain, dodging a follow-up attack and hitting a quick burst from his jetpack to create space between him and his opponent.

Spoiler: Rolls

7

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Bralor was quicker than he had thought. The riposte came low and under his guard and the blade marked his bodyglove. Darion stepped back and disengaged. He looked down at the cut. It was small but clean. He had not expected her to be this fast.

Then, he went forward again. He worked with the pointed edge, giving small jabs and false thrusts to test their guard and when he saw their guard open he would step in and catch their buckler wrist with his hand and hold it tight and draw his knife across their chest in a clean hook.

Signy Bralor

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Vambraces
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol
M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle
M.I. 'Pulsar' jetpack
KestrisaurHide Utility Belt and Duster
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

Sahan stood across from the Fett. He did not wear any armor. He wore only a pair of orback wool trousers with Kestrisaur leather boots and belt. No shirt — he was going by ancient Taung traditions from before beskar was discovered. And for once, he was not wearing his sunglasses. He would use no heads-up-display for a sparring match.

He gripped the shock lance. Polearms were definitely not his forte. The closest he had ever gotten to training with one was the Grulyr Cebatr battle staff his father had given him. He didn't really carry it into battle, though, considering it was a bit of an heirloom. He would not risk having it be damaged or destroyed.

"Sahan Dragr," Vreegan's voice rumbled through the vocoder, a low, metallic rasp that didn't carry the heat of anger, only the tone of a former Field Marshal. "You are well-honored by the Mandalorian people, but on this day, you are nothing but dirt beneath my heel."

Sahan laughed. He had fought with the crusaders a few times. He knew how capable they were. "Gett'se, Vod. Ibac shereshoy!"

As Vreegan rushed him, he planted the lance and vaulted over his opponent, aiming a smack into Fett's backside. Only, because Vreegan's move had been a feint and he altered his path, neither hit would land.

Sahan landed in the snow, sliding and stumbling a bit but putting his left hand on the ground for extra stabilization. He dashed forward to try to follow up. He was fast, but he knew his opponent would be too. Ultimately, they were relatively evenly matched. It would all come down to who unrecoverably faltered first.

And that made things all the more exciting.

11

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan's HUD tracked the heat signature of Sahan Dragr as he issued a retort and vaulted over him, but he could hardly believe his eyes. At the sight of Sahan's bare chest, exposed to the biting winds and the lethal point of the Shock lance within his hands. It wasn't a display of courage but a mockery of their ancestry.

The Taung had advanced past those ancient traditions with the first creation of armor; to discard one's beskar'gam in favor of playing primitive was not only an insult to Clan Fett but the entire Mandalorian culture. He adjusted his position as Sahan faltered and regained his balance in the snow, turning with precision, his sturdy boots transforming the permafrost into a mixture of ice and debris.

Sahan dashed forward, a blur of bronze skin against the blinding white, as he stepped into the path of the strike leading with his armored shoulder. The sound of metal-on-meat was sickening, a dull, heavy thud as the reinforced plate of Vreegan's pauldron potentially slammed into his opponent's exposed ribs.

Vreegan followed the impact instantly, shortening his grip on the shock lance to drive the weighted butt of the weapon toward Sahan's throat. This was a duel to the death...and death would follow.

Post 2 of 3

Spoiler: Combat Role 1

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Tags: Brent Warnel

Carduul can’t remember the last time he had fought without his trusted poleaxe at his side. A blaster pistol, at the very least, was still familiar weaponry—one needed at least some kind of ranged option in a battlefield. It was a tad laughable...he had used his favored weapons in the field of battle for so long, it was likely he was rusty despite the Mandalorian way encouraging one to be familiar with all weapons.

Hopefully, he would have the chance to experiment and un-rust, this day. With but a single pistol upon his hip, he had drawn unto the arena of choice for the day. One of which was clearly more intended for their arms—small pieces of makeshift cover from scrap metal nearby and The furred cape billowed against the snowfall as steps had drawn to a halt, finding the ever-so familiar armor standing across from him. The same one he had witnessed the sigil of dug up upon Dxun, only slightly adjusted from when he last saw it.

An unnecessary title rang out in greeting to him, in this day and age—but one quietly appreciated nonetheless. A softened ‘hah’ escaped the pitch-black Y-visor, as he dipped his head in turn. “I am certain Clan Warnel is in good hands, Brent Warnel…but proof of expertise never hurts such a vision.” Came a mildly amused reply. His hand slowly drew towards his hip, holster revealed with the next billow of his shoulder's cape. “I am eager to sharpen our skills against another.”

With those same words, the announcement had sounded. In the next moment, his hand had moved and drawn with a singular swift motion towards his hip—a fshew! of energy shrieking alight as his own body began to move towards cover to make himself a harder target. His finger pressured upon the trigger to release what bolts he could towards the other; central mass being the only general region of firing.

But Carduul was certainly no quickdraw artist like some in the galaxy…

Roll 1: 6

 

[Signy Bralor]

SIGNY BRALOR
OUTER RIM | THE PIRATE'S MOON
TAG: Darion of Myrkr
VISIBLY PRESENTING: Deliberately ambiguous - fully armoured

The momentum of the fight was picking up and there was a few exploratory swiped and jabs by the combatants until Darion found his opening and grabbed her buckler. He opened up her guard and his blade clinked across her armoured chest leaving a streak of soft metal. They came in closer to each other again and the motion stopped.

She grinned under her helmet again, sure his had scored a blow across the thickest part of her chest plate. But right now the point of her knife was on the softer part of his armour under his chin. "I think you're dead, buddy" she laughed as they broke the hold and she stepped away spinning her knife in her grip. She was feeling positive now.

​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

For a moment Dario did not move. He felt the cold of Bralor's blade against his chin through the soft gorget of the bodyglove. The steel was steady and the touch of it ran cold down his spine, the cold that comes when a man knows death is close.

Then Bralor broke away and Darion sheathed his dagger and crossed a fist across his chest, "Well fought, Bralor. Strength and honor."

He left the arena then, while the small crowd cheered Bralor's name.

Signy Bralor

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Matchup update:

 

[Brent Warnel]

THE DUEL
KESTRI
TAG: Carduul Akahl ​

"Aye, it doesn't. May the best Crusader win," Brent replied to Carduul, slamming his fist into his chest twice. The snow slowly spun around them, swirling with little vortexes as the pair squared off against one another. Brent watched his opponent's body language, the hand slowly settling near the blaster in his holster, which had been revealed as Carduul's cape billowed around him. It was a good old-fashioned stand-off, something Brent had not done in years. Next came the test of speed and skill.

There was an old tale whispered among taverns, bars, and other unscrupulous places. A tale of who shot first. It was said two individuals had faced off in a tavern known for its scum and villainy, and only one had walked away. Brent remembered hearing about it when he was younger, the man with the faster draw had put an end to the threats of the other, so the story went. Now Brent aimed to do the same to his mentor, albeit not to the death; there was no need for that.

The next few moments seemed to go on forever, time stalling, almost stopping, before a flurry of movement exploded from both Brent and Carduul as the announcement rang out. Brent's hand, already near his holster, snapped the pistol out of it. But instead of bringing the blaster out in front of him and aiming with both hands, he kept it low at his hip, firing off a volley of shots at Carduul as Brent ran towards the cover of a boulder in the middle of the arena.

Carduul flew towards cover as well, sending blistering plasma towards Brent. Carduul's shots rang true, two of them impacting on Brent's chest plate, the Beskar heating up as the metal ate the rounds, hungry for more.

As Brent dove behind cover, he switched to his off hand, aiming at Carduul's position and engaging him with accurate fire. As Brent did this, he began to move forward. He would attempt to keep his opponent's head down as he moved to another position, which would allow him to flank Carduul and possibly end this fight.

Brent hadn't ended it in the first volley, but no matter, the Manda would decide what happened next.

Spoiler: Dice Roll

 

[Yael Kandar]

BUSHIDO
A Brave New World - Chapter 1

GEAR: Beskad, Beskar’gam
ENGAGING: Senec Ahn-Dross

BLACK HOLE SUN​

KESTRI

The freezing cold of the Cin'haastal Mountains felt like the judging silence of Kestri, biting at the exposed seals of Yael's dark-blue Beskar’gam. She didn't offer a verbal greeting in return to Senec's greeting. Instead, she simply tightened her grip on the heavy beskad, her blue eyes tracking the subtle hum of his vibrating blade.

She was a renowned duelist, but here, in the shifting snow and the weight of a traditional blade she hadn't touched in years, her movements felt sluggish; haunted by the two years she'd spent as a ghost.

As Senec moved, patient and measured, Yael found herself playing a game of catch-up. When his vibrosword finally bit into her guard, the high-frequency vibration traveled through the beskad and rattled the bones of her forearm, a jarring sensation that threatened to numb her fingers.

Yael tried to pivot, to find the flank as she had done on Dressel, but the uneven earth and the flurry of Senec's strikes kept her pinned. She was stumbling through it, her boots kicking up sprays of white powder as she struggled to keep her guard from breaking under his relentless, methodical testing.

She tried to duck on one of Senec’s swing and follow it up with a Beskad hook, but truth be told, she isn’t even sure that it would connect when she thought of the move.

For the first time since her return, the cold wasn't just in the air; it was the sinking realization that her edge had been dulled by more than just time.​

DICE ROLL: 3 (I HATE JORGE)

 

[Uros Wren]

KESTRI

Uros Wren landed in Kestri after what it feels like months not visiting. He was greeted by an invitation to a tournament.

Great, he thought to himself, what a fortunate time to visit the planet where it all started. He walked towards the location of the tournament, where the crowd has gathered and the tournament has commenced.

Not even a minute into the arena, he spotted something that caught his eyes:

TOURNEY REWARDS: Free drinks for a year at the Gilded Hearth

What in the blue haran…

The man who runs the establishment has never heard of this tournament, let alone signs anything on it.

“I’ll get that mf,” he muttered to himself, as he marched towards the official’s booth, his Black and Gold Beskar’gam clanking against the stone pavement and cold breeze.

“I want to speak to the manager,” he sternly said, knocking at the booth’s door.

 

[Senec Ahn-Dross]

Senec Ahn-Dross
Kestri | Cin'haastal Mountains
TAG: Yael Kandar
GEAR: Beskar'gam | Vibrosword

---

The Vibrosword swung on a diagonal, always testing the beskad of Yael Kandar until she wasn't there anymore.

A backhand had meant to continue the pressing assault but Yael had ducked down leaving the blade to pass overhead where it would ride the momentum of its swing into a tight arc to begin bringing it back around again.

Yael hooked with her beskad. It curled back around behind Senec's thigh just beneath his hip and already on unsteady legs he felt himself almost reeling forward uncontrollably. He'd save himself by planting his foot into the snow ahead of the other and putting his weight on it to create a stronger vertical base for himself.

Dipping his head to track his opponent he'd have muttered...

"Atiniir."

...reminding himself to take the pain that was to come, to accept the cold bite of the wind against his brow.

The Vibrosword had deactivated, the hum dying in the wind sweeping over the arena. Senec rolled his wrist inwards as his weapon arced back around from its previous blow and he attempted to similarly hook with it. Trying to wrap it back around Yael's upper shoulders just beneath her neck, flat against her for stability while his free hand passed around to clasp the blade in what was attempting to become something of a modified clinch using the weapon instead of the hands and arms.

Senec was quick to follow with a driving knee as he brought his rear leg forward and up.