Public Fill Your Boots! (Mandalorian Holiday Thread)

[Siv Dragr]

D R I N K I N G

Tag: Jarva Orkaan | Obran | Aloy Vizsla | Talohn Atar | Leea Pandac | Yagetaka

Siv nodded as Aloy gave him a succinct briefing on the Nite Owls. He remembered the legends about them, the warriors who had fought during the scourge of Mandalore centuries ago and even before that. Having seen one in their iconic beskar plating was one thing, but seeing two -- in his mind, that more solidified the reality that they had returned to the galaxy. And if these Nite Owls had the same sense of honor and warrior instinct as their predecessors, then it was only a boon for the Mandalorian people.

The woman announced herself as Aisha, daughter of Strider Garon -- a name that Siv had heard once or twice before, but altogether was unfamiliar with. Not that it mattered either -- hundreds of smaller clans pervaded the Mando'ade, Dragr being one of them. He held himself on no higher pedestal than anyone else. She repeated his initial question, turning it towards him, and Siv raised a mug in reply. "Siv, of Clan Dragr. Good to meet you, Vod."
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[Nix Avyena]

Tags: Open

A Mandalorian party was never quite the carefree night of frivolity that one could observe in the more typical starports and cantinas of the sector, but it was uplifting to see that life continued out here on the Outer Rim. She was reminded of the functions put on by her parents, those strange nights where their family home became host to innumerable warriors, artisans and clan-leaders all gathered for the purpose of being impressed. Not that those events had done her Clan any good in the long run. Perhaps then this was different: this gathering held no pretence or grand purpose, it did not appear to factor into any scheme or plan laid out by one House or another. Rather, this was a simply gathering of people united by purpose and experience. Despite all that had happened to their people, this night of laughter, boastful brawls and fresh-brewed spotchka would stand as a defiant reminder to all those who bore arms against them that the Mando'ade could not be broken.

The same could not be said for the diminutive man who sat across from her peering out from behind his cards; he had been broken two hands ago. He was persistent, certainly, but continually rushing into danger was hardly a quality that was to be commended. She hadn't caught his name, and judging from the way he was fidgeting it didn't seem likely he would offer it now.

"500," he said with a hint of uncertainty.

"750," Nix replied. She placed one card down, punctuating its placement with a lingering finger as she slid the card towards the centre of the table. She could imagine the man's brow furrowing behind his helmet. He couldn't have been in his armour that long: the shoulders were clearly built for a broader man. His father, perhaps?

There was a clatter as the man slammed down his fist onto the table. Cards careened out of their place and beakers of spotchka wobbled. The man rose to his feet. "Cheat!" His voice was raised although not entirely certain. His helmet turned from side to side, looking for an ally. Nix remained where she was: reclined with one foot resting on the other knee. She hadn't cheated, not that it would likely matter to the man. He was, like so many before him, embarrassed by his defeat and looking for a way to vent his anger. She had been there herself. Luckily, there was an easy fix.

Nix leaned back into the seat, squared her shoulders against the furnishing and kicked forward as hard as she could. The table skidded forward, caught the man in the stomach and doubled him over. Sabacc cards scattered onto the floor, along with the columns of Calamari Flan they had been betting with and the sound of breathless gulping began to sound out from within the man's helmet.

Nix rose to her feet and stepped over to the man before lifting him to his feet. "750 it is," Nix said, cocking her head slightly before pushing the man away in the direction of the door and beginning to pick up her winnings.