Isran Varad
R E C L A I M E R
Location: The Sprawl, Golbah City
Tag: [member="Tia Aurelius"]
He remembered her fangs.
When the Mandalorian first took his tentative steps into this new reality, he was alone. The sole pieces of home were the fixings he had aboard his ship - and the knowledge that his target had also been cast adrift in the river of time. This bounty gone horribly awry had been the conclusion to everything that Isley Verd had ever known. Yet, rather than wallow in the vacuum that was his existence, he opted to rise up. He chose to Reclaim that which was lost and start anew. There was no ease in restoring what he once had. There was no support, nor lineage to fall back on in this wild new Galaxy. Even Mandalore, which should have been a beacon of hope for the wandering soul, was a bleak reminder of just how twisted this Galaxy was. Nonetheless, piece by piece, Isley attempted to rebuild the Clan he called home.
But the first generation were not among the finest warriors in the Galaxy. Most were soldiers of Fortune or those who were disgruntled with the state of affairs on Mandalore. Others were criminals, seeking a different path than the one they tread. Like any good son of Mandalore, Isley did not hesitate to reach out to any who seemed capable and willing to adopt the six tenets. Even if it meant accepting those who had been burned by every other walk of life. Yet, as the rag-tag band grew, so did the demands of sustaining them. To provide for one's clan was now the foundation they all stood upon, and thus they began to hunt bounties in order to survive. In order to grow. Isley recalled, during one particularly vicious raid, he found someone who had more fight in them than the majority of his newfound kin.
After a cantina had been turned upside down by their raid, out from underneath a table scampered a youngling girl. Her rush almost saw her head blown off by Isley's blaster, but he paused the second he saw the bobbing mass of messy locks. She, however, had no regard for danger and promptly sank her fangs into the outstretched hand he offered. Despite being faced with certain demise, the young girl was scrappy. Eager to fight. And, when offered something less than trash to eat, eager to follow. She quickly became one of the lights of the fledgling Clan. Most would conclude their raids and hunts by pilfering sweet things for the little monster to eat. Whilst others would teach her about the ways imparted by Isley.
The alor himself took the little one in as his ward and personally looked out for her. When he ate, so did she. When he trained, so did she. And thus, by the time a year had passed, the little monster had learned how to shoot. She was quickly becoming the pride of the "family" overall. A little, scrappy reminder that good could come out of their varying circumstances. And proof that the way of life Isley offered was one that had value. But. As these things often went. The more success one had, the more enemies began to move within the shadows. After many months of hunting throughout Hutt Space, the wrong Hutt was caught in the crossfire of a raid. The backlash was immediate. The battle that had begun over the head of one man saw their shuttle shot out of the sky. Isley couldn't remember who had made the bad call. And in that moment, it didn't matter.
Clawing out of the wreckage was all that did. And when he managed to pry himself out of the flames, his lifeform scanners confirmed what he hoped would not be true. The youngling, little Tia, was nowhere to be found. She had done as she was told - stay on the ship - and one bad call saw her too short story end. Those few who survived the crash quickly turned the blame upon one another. Isley's reason could not overturn the anger and betrayal which came from watching all they worked for go up in smoke. In the end, those few who staggered away from that wreck never spoke again - and the Mandalorian himself was alone once more. But...the fact was, little Tia was a rebellious spirit. And though her guardian thought she was dead, she was simply disobedient.
Lured off the ship she was. And by being mischevious, she lived - unbeknownst to her guardian. Now, in the present day, the Mandalorian returned once more to a seedy part of town to ply the craft which brought her sweets and treats years before. Golbah City, the shining capital of the Confederacy, was not immune to the underbelly of society. As the city expanded, sprawling into the desert, so too did the number of neer-do-wells lurking in the shadows. It was within one of their damp, dim cantinas that Isley reclined in a booth. There was a bottle of tihaar before him, a glass in his hand, and his helm settled upon the table. At a glance, nothing would set him apart from the average Mandalorian - save for the symbols upon his shoulder plates. The crossed infinities of Clan Verd. For now, he drank in peace, awaiting the appointed hour when the employer would provide the next line of targets.
For now, he would remain unawares that his ward yet lived.
