First Reply Dha Werda Verda (Iron Covenant/Mandalorians)

[Feydrik Munin]

KESTRI TRAINING AREA
IRON COVENANT


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Mandalorians were without equal. That was unquestionable. There did not exist a culture in the galaxy that they had not beaten. Sith, Jedi, Republics, Empires, all fell at the hands of Mandalorians. It took the greatest warriors in the galaxy, the combined efforts of thousands, to stem the tide of but a few hundred Mandalorian warriors. And on Kestri, those warriors, the ones that made the galaxy tremble, shake, quake with fear... were being trained. Honed in.

Feydrik was no exception. He was the rule.

His weapon of choice today was not the blade. It was not the rifle. It was not the spear. It was him. Him and his crushgaunts. He was a weapon before he became a Mandalorian. He was now even more of one. The training area was stacked with training droids, some wielding "lightsabers". Training blades, that stung like hell but that would not kill him. They had been programmed with Sith training and Jedi training- things that were amply available, thanks to the both of the two constantly changing and shifting hands. They left things of themselves all over the galaxy, crumbled remains of Empires. Mandalorians were not the same. They remained. They endured.

They became stronger.

No one remembered, save in passing perhaps, the great Sith generals and warlords. The Jedi that so boldly sacrificed. They remembered the Mandalorians. Mandalorians were not an individual to be remembered. One Mandalorian was all of them, and all of the Mandalorians were one. Despite differences of beliefs and culture, and lately, a fracture about the heir to the title of Sole Ruler.... they were still Mandalorians. And Mandalorians trained. Trained to kill. To fight. To win. And he was facing twelve droids armed only with his crushgaunt, and no helmet. He was bloody from the last attempt, where a strike crossed above his eyebrow.

He'd make sure that the droids were picked apart. He pulled up his fists, crushgaunts tightening in his hands. He was ready. He had to be.

He was Ori'Ramikade. He had no other option than to be ready.

He made the first move, dashing forward, seizing a droid by the throat with one hand, and grabbing the bicep of the droid with the other. And then, he squeezed, and pulled. The fight was on. Feydrik knew he was not alone. He'd be ashamed if other Mandalorians were not here in the training grounds, but he was among dozens training today. They were preparing for another great battle, another chance to strike out at their most hated foes.

 

[Gel Karn]

GEL KARN
KESTRI TRAINING ARENA
TAG: Feydrik Munin
GEAR: Gel Karn's Bev Shield, Akalenedat, Mandalorian Lanvarok, Mandalorian Vibroboots, Mandalorian Magna-Gloves, Gel Karn's Bandolier, Mandalorian Jazerant, Mandalorian Recon Helmet

PUSH IT TO THE LIMIT!​

Gel sighed to himself as he finished the final repairs on the training droid that he had been assigned to fix. Not that it really mattered in the long run, since the droid he was working on was destined to be sent back into the arena and promptly torn apart by overeager Mandalorian Warriors. Of course, Gel could hardly blame any of them, since every man and woman amongst the Iron Covenant was eager to get into some action against the Sith and their allies.

Just a few weeks ago, Gel would have been making weapons and armor for his Sith masters, arming his most hated enemy against the noble Mandalorians of Kestri. But ever since Siv Dragr and his warband had saved Gel from his fate, Gel had been happy to provide his Mandalorian brothers and sisters in arms with the finest equipment that he could manufacture. His 15 years of forging experience would surely come in handy against the Sith, and these days, his services seemed to be needed more and more each and every day.

Still, though an armorer and blacksmith at heart, Gel couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of jealously toward the Mandalorians training in the arena today. As much as he loved the forge, he was also a fighter a heart, someone who sent much of his time developing his martial mastery just as he had his forging abilities. Plus, if he was to go back into the field, he was going to need all the training he could get. That was why he was attempting to get the damaged droid repaired as soon as possible, as the quicker he could send it toward its own demise, the sooner he could join in on the exercises and battles that he was witnessing.

It took a few more minutes of tinkering, but Gel had finally gotten the droid up and operational. It's photoreceptors blinked with life, and the droid stumbled off to find its next opponent...only to be immediately grabbed by Feydrik Munin as he began squeezing and squeezing the droid as hard as he could. Crushguants, that was what he was using. Deadly weapons when used by any warrior, but especially so when utilized by a particularly skilled martial artist. Gel watched Feydrik with curiosity, observing the way the man fought when even outnumbered 12 to 1. He was a bit bruised and bloodied from his fight, and Gel couldn't help but wonder just exactly who the man was. Though a bit shy himself, Gel decided to call out to him.

"Do you require assistance, burc'ya? Perhaps some repairs to your armor?", Gell yelled out to Feydrik from across the arena as the Mandalorian prepared himself for the upcoming droid onslaught.

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