Private First Among Equals

[Ijaat Mereel]

Clan Kryze... A noble family, one as steeped in honor and legend as Mereel or Vizsla, with just as much failure and accomplishment to their claim as well. When he had heard of Jenn Kryze breaking from the Enclave over the Crusade, he had sent greetings and proposed a meeting. Not in the way of most Manda'lor in the demand that she drag herself and her House and Clan to him and bend the knee. No. That wasn't the way he intended to go forward unless someone pushed his buttons. Cin vhetin. They had to stop fighting each other and everyone else all at once. They needed to stand strong together and move as one with one voice. And so, he would take great pains to respect the other leaders and heads of families within his people.

At least, that was what went through his head as he made the translation from hyperspace to real, the stars forming from streaks and blurs to pins of light again. He stood in his personal armory, slipping on his gear. Selecting weapons. Every step would be important in this moment. Every facet of his gear spoke to his mission and his purpose. And so he chose his new weapon, the bes'nynir forge hammer to ride at his side. With a moment of thought, he clamped the Mask of Mandalore into place over the front of his helmet, buckling his crimson warden cloak over his shoulders. A brief touch of his gauntlet sent a comms to Mia Monroe that they were in position and preparing to meet, as well as informing Arla Rodarch of his movements. The two between them were determined to keep him safe, if for vastly different reasons.

 

[Arla Rodarch]

Shuttle - Following the Mandalor's ship

Clan Kryze. A group with a mixed reputation, though that could be said of basically all the known Clans, and probably the unknown ones too. Those of Kryze had done great and honourable deeds in the past. Arla was hoping to see that potential embodied in the current iteration. She accompanied the Mand'alor's ship in her battered shuttle. As they came out of hyperspace she was already fully dressed.

She took a few moments to holster her pistols, shotguns, beskad, and knife. She rechecked her dart launcher and clipped it into place. Her comlink beeped with a notification from Ijaat Mereel and she pinged back to show she was ready and standing by. "Right behind you, boss."

They were not meeting foes, nor friends, per se. They were meeting vode, and that was how Arla was approaching this gathering. A potential friend and ally, but at the very least, kin. This was Mand'alor's show, and she was just there to project her usual aura of not to be fucked with on the Mand'alor's behalf. They were meeting Mando'ade who would expect fellow Mando'ade to be armed, so the usual diplomatic chicanery did not apply. This would be a meeting of warriors, of mutual respect.

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | The Borderworld
| Objective | Welcome a visitor

Jenn was busy slicing a chunk of meat away from the rest of the animal's carcass with her claws when her Alor'ad entered the tent used by the hunters to butcher the creatures they hunted. Pretending not to notice as her second-in-command paused at theh sight of her in her more inhuman appearance, she calmly set the meat to the side on the butchering table, walking on over to the nearby basin to wash her hands. Only then did Henryk dare to speak, reminded that he had a message to carry.

"Alor, the pretender has arrived", informed the towering figure of a man, his arms crossed. Evidently, he felt no need to mask his disdain. "The Enduring Flame is keeping a watchful eye on his craft and the escort trailing behind. Shall I give them authorization to land?"

The Enduring Flame was the sole vessel in the Clan's makeshift fleet that could reasonably stand its own in a fight: a light frigate outfitted with engines that kept it deceptively mobile and punched above its weight, it was more than capable of devouring its fair share of opponents who made the mistake of underestimating it. The three other freighters, however, reconverted as they were into massive hangars for the Clan's impressive amount of starfighters, were nowhere to be seen. Far below the Mand'alor and his escort, the uncharted reaches of a nameless world beckoned, the atmosphere agreeably temperate indeed.

"Yes. Give them coordinates outside our main encampment for them to make their landing, and assemble the rest of the command squad to meet us there. How is the food coming along? Will it be ready in time?" Turning to face her subordinate, she pulled her gloves back on, securing the plate of beskar covering the back of her hand as well.

"The cooks tell me everything should be ready."

That was all she needed to know, and before long, the two walked on out of the tent, stepping through the camp at a brisk pace. It was, after all, little more than a sea of tents and other temporary installations: the Clan would not stay here long, and inevitably move to a different world in the Unknown Regions, seeking to evade the attention of all others, vode or not. Few could be trusted in this day and age, and the proud warriors of Clan Kryze did not care to hide their disdain for those who walked a path of darkness and dishonor.

Jenn awaited the arrival of the Mand'alor and his escort in the agreed-upon meeting spot outside of the large encampment serving as the temporary home to the many warriors of the Clan, her command squad behind her: there was Henryk, her Alor'ad and a titan of a man, Karrys, her chipper personal pilot, Ko'ren, the Twi'lek with a heart of gold and the fury of a thousand suns, Ruusaan, the quiet explosives experts, and Yngvi, the petulant sniper. All of them were clad in armor whose colors and sigils betrayed their belonging to different Clans, once upon a time: Vizsla, Saxon, Kandar... and, in Ruusaan's case, Rook.

After all, Jenn's rise to power had been made largely possible thanks to her willingness to recruit all those who sought to follow her, no matter their past.

​

Ijaat Mereel Arla Rodarch ​

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Touching down on the planet, Ijaat said little into his comms. An automated ping of coordinates to indicate his departure from the Svarog, and where he was headed. The Mask of Manda'lor clamped firmly in place on the front of his buc'ye, he departed the ramp carrying a camtono and a wrapped bundle, gifts for the other A'lor, as was proper in his clan for one visiting a person of reputation and import.

Arla and Arla alone would be his escort, and those who knew Ijaat knew he was formidable enough on his own, but Arla Rodarch made their combined presence the equivalent of a small strike force if pressed. One day he'd have to find the time to spar with the woman, but he wasn't sure when that would ever come.

Seeing Jenn Kryze he halted a respectable distance in front of the other leader and raised a hand in greeting.

"Su'cuy Clan Kryze. And thank you for coming. I bring gifts from Manda'yaim if you would have them..."

 

[Arla Rodarch]

The comm pinged to let Arla know that it had recieved the Mand'alor's landing coordinates and that therefore the autopilot would bring the shuttle in to a nearby landing where Ijaat Mereel was. She ignored it, letting the shuttle do the duty while she stood ready.

Once the shuttle was down, she exited swiftly and fell into step behind and beside her leader. She wasn't on a full battle alert but she was still alert and aware of the unknowns of this situation.

"Su'cuy Clan Kryze. And thank you for coming. I bring gifts from Manda'yaim if you would have them..."

Arla nodded politely in Jenn's direction after Ijaat greeted her, recognizing the Alor, and their host here. She didn't speak yet. She watched the area, her eyes taking in the small camp which had all the appearance of being temporary. Behind her buy'ce her face showed some concern. This was no permanent home in which to raise children. Clearly, Clan Kryze liked to keep on the move. Arla didn't judge, she just observed, waiting to hear from their host Alor, Jenn Kryze .

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | The Borderworld
| Objective | First impressions

With a marked numerical advantage, the warriors of Clan Kryze were confident in the position they held: should words fail them and violence erupt, the fierce Mando'ade were more than prepared to show the outsiders a taste of Mandalorian steel. Even now, as their Alor stood by to welcome the pair before them, they nourished a healthy sense of wariness before the sight of the ancient item attached to Ijaat's buy'ce.

"Su cuy'gar, Ijaat of Clan Mereel" came Jenn's introduction, her voice firm, confident, but markedly measured. "Your name is known to us, as is the great burden and privilege you have claimed as yours." Her words were respectful and calm, but at no point did she seem to acknowledge his title of Mand'alor.

<Ruusaan, Yngvi, Ko'ren, Karrys, you light up the bodyguard if something goes down. Henryk, you'll help me with the pretender.>

A series of pings on her HUD marked their understanding of her transmission. It always served to be prepared for war, after all, and doubly so when dealing with fellow Mando'ade. They were the greatest warriors the Galaxy had to offer, and all those who chose to walk the path they did were to be acknowledged as the walking, living death threats that they were. For her part, however, the Alor opened and stepped aside, showing the man before her the way politely, as a host ought to with their honored guest.

"We have much to discuss - of Manda'yaim, and our future. Your gifts are certainly appreciated, but they can wait for sha'kajir, surely?"

A double entendre. Sha'kajir was a concept respected by many Clans, even some of those who turned their backs on the Resol'nare and the rest of their people: sitting down over a meal and refreshments to talk terms was a simple, but no less sacred tradition. Jenn preferred to offer the pretender his guarantee before anything else would come to pass: to let him know that she extended this truce towards him, a guarantee of safety for as long as they spoke over the fire.

​

Ijaat Mereel Arla Rodarch ​