First Light | Crusaders

[Ascendant Muse]

S O L ' Y C​

R E S A​

It was known as First Light.

Eons ago, the Humanity claimed the Core through the fury of war. Against perilous odds, they waged battle after battle against a race which literally worshipped conflict. Their adversaries were bred with swords in their hands and it seemed that their victory over Humanity was only a matter of time. Yet. By some stroke of fortune, Humanity pushed back against the Taung and drove them from the infant Coruscant. Thus, for the first time in their history, those who would become Mandalorian tasted defeat. Yet hardship would become one of the most defining features of the warrior race. They would come to be viewed as hardy. Dauntless. Capable of gritting through even the most vicious cataclysm. Thus, flight from Coruscant did not break the ancestors of the modern warrior - but rather defined them.

Ultimately, the ancestors of Mandalore first settled within the southern systems. They discovered a world which would prove difficult to assault - and by their efforts they aspired to make it tactically inpregnable. Yet on the day that the Dha Werda Verda set foot upon Roon, their priority was not yet to make war. But to make a Home. For millennia, the Taung fashioned for themselves a new beginning upon the distant world - rearing generation after generation of mighty warrior. Until one, the First rose to prominance. According to the legends yet howled to this day, he rallied the Taung in a mighty crusade. They left behind their defensible refuge and cut a bloody path across unknown space - ultimately settling upon the world that named in His honor: Mandalore.

And as the eons raced ever forward, the legends of the children of Mandalore were written. There was never a battle that did not call to them - never a conflict which did not bring joy to their hearts and blood to their blades. Yet as they became infamous, Roon was forgotten. Where the First was born had become a footnote within Mandalorian history. Where the Taung licked their wounds had become a memory recalled only by shattered runes and flaking remains. Yet despite how small a footprint the progenitors left behind, the descendants would eventually remember. They would stumble upon the ancient ash and recall how struggle started their identity. In the modern era, this very reality took place as Mandalorian Crusaders descended upon the slumbering world.

They came to walk in the shadow of their ancestors.

To understand the struggle that had molded everything they are.

And to call His birthplace Home.

Sol'yc Resa was the name bestowed upon the ancient village which had birthed Mandalore the First. It was here that the greatest ascension in history took place - yet the years had not been kind. In the wake of the Taung's departure, millennia of disrepair had fallen upon the splendor of the settlement. Her exterior walls had been reduced to rubble. Nature grew and broke through nearly every structure. At a glance, First Light could have almost been lost entirely. Yet the timely arrival of the descendants bit back the overgrowth of nature. By blade and by sweat, they set about restoring the ancient grounds as best they could. And as their efforts neared completion, they had cause to celebrate: for struggle had defined their next generation.

The first of many raids had been launched - and in doing so, young Crusaders proved themselves as warriors. With their Verd'goten completed, the ancestral grounds truly came alive. Bonfires dotted the settlement from every direction. The smell of succlent meats roasting on the flames wafted into the heavens - as did a cacophony of mirthful voices. Tihaar and Netra'gal flowed like water. There was singing, laughter, or a smile upon each and every face. This day, the Mandalorian Crusaders came Home. This day, First Light began anew.

Spoiler: Points of Interest

First Light is not a towering monument of modern military power - but rather a place to truly call home. The village has been restored using materials sourced from the surroundings, namely woods and stone. Lengthy bridges criss-cross the totality of the village, with stone-walled homes dotting the way. This night, great care was taken in preparing the bonfires throughout the village, with the largest being located at the heart. Here, barrels of the finest drink form a mighty wall that never runs dry; and freshly roasted meats flow about the thicket of warriors. Here, the stories are shared and the laughs are had. Here, the tankards are raised in honor of a new generation of Crusaders. Here, the party is just beginning!​

The Allure is almost defeaning to some. To set foot upon the very same lands as their ancestors is an experience that most will never forget. Thus, whilst the celebrations yet fill the night with joy - some opt to wander about the surrounding woods. A mere stone's throw away from First Light proper is a river which flows from the north and cuts the forest in two. Moreover, a ravenous cavern awaits just beyond the water's edge, as if beckoning the wandering soul within. The Night is young - and the opportunities to adventure are just beginning!​

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Alar Shysa"], [member="Safira Varad"], [member="Isley Verd"], [member=Nya], [member="Calixte Diantha"], [member="Mavrek Kordalas"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Daisy Americus"], [member="Kaptan Americus"], [member="Kaden Farr"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Achilles"], [member="Galaar Fett"], [member="Ardasz Verd"], [member="Shukalar Verd"], [member="Connory Monroe"]​

 

[Rylan Kordel]

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Having taken the proper mantel of leadership he was owed once upon a time, Rylan lead the forces of clan Kordel into Sol'yc Resa and committed them to the Crusader cause and put them to work in helping setting up things for the evenings events, there was much to do and prepare for, and much to ponder upon with the clans future. Somehow the reformation of the Crusaders at the same time as his leaving the life of the Sith behind seemed fitting, and allowed for new beginnings, though it would take time to get used to the stories and strife the clan had faced in it's decline and down fall, he looked forward to returning them to glory with his new brothers and sisters.

Sitting down at the largest fire, having grabbed a cup of Tihaar he sat, fully armored, leaning forward and sipping from the cup conservatively, waiting to see who else would be here, who else he'd talk to and make bonds of brotherhood with. His dark eyes moving slow, scanning, appraising, it was good to be home.

 

[Calixte Diantha]

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Wearing: [This] (minus the bling)​

Tags: TBA​

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Home. What an awkward word, one with so many definitions it was ridiculous. Supposedly, it was meant for a place where one lived. Putting down roots, a place to grow and be.

Home? It still didn’t quite feel that way. Plenty of work had gone into the place. Hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. The works. But it still didn’t quite feel like home. At least not to Calixte, not yet. But it had always been that way, no matter where she went or why. It always felt like there was some piece of her missing somewhere, but naturally she always chalked that up to her history. Not that any of that mattered right now. No, tonight was meant to celebrate! To be among brothers and sisters in arms and just be for a night.

And the best part – for the redhead at least? She didn’t have to wear her armor. Yes, Cali loved her second skin unconditionally, but once in a while a girl just needs to wear something pretty. And more often than not? Calixte went to the extreme and wound up in something her mother would have skinned her alive for were she still among the living. But tonight, the redheaded vixen took a more subtle approach. First and foremost, for comfort. She was sore in a few places, and anything restrictive was going to aggravate that fact. So rather than dress to appease eyes, she dressed for herself. She left her curls alone, leaving them in their natural state of bounce, and then she had made her way to the inner circle once she felt presentable.

It didn’t take her too awful long to get where she was going, and surprisingly she didn’t find many familiar faces. Grey eyes scanned the area as Cali’s feet had slowed to a much slower stride. Did she miss something? Was there something going on somewhere else she should have known about? Full lips pursed for a moment, and then she shrugged it off and continued her advance towards the largest fire. If people she knew weren’t around, she was just going to have to make new acquaintances then, wasn’t she?

 

[Don Cagliostro]

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Roy had decided to not partake in much of the partying. Socializing wasn't particularly what he felt most comfortable doing, especially not here on such ancient lands. There was strong history here, and a history he feared his mere presence perverted. At times like these it made him feel like a selfish man who gained the title of Mandalorian for selfish needs. His new family might not see it that was, but he know. He took advantage of their hospitality as a way to blend in. Hell most in his clan didn't even know his real name.

The worst part was that now he really does truly care for his family. True affection that was built off a lie, what an oxymoron. Stepping onto the shore of the river, Roy looked out into its constant flow. To try and distract himself from the confines of his own thoughts he picked out a flat, smooth stone from the shore. A Rock surely older then the old republic as it as been eroded into the perfect skipping stone. With a seemingly casual toss he would once again underestimate his own artificial strength as it hopped across the water with the speed of a slug shot out of a barrel. Crossing the river and puncturing a tree on the other side as if he'd shot it with a bullet.

It was cruel that a simple task to distract him just reinforced his own bitter attitude to himself...

Maybe he ought to talk to someone.

 

[Safira Haran]

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[member=Calixte Diantha] | [member=Rylan Kordel]​

The gentle embrace of a warm night surrounded the village that had seen the birth, journey and eventual rise of Mandalore the first. Safira was in awe of it. Despite the hard work gone into restoring their ancestral beginnings, nature still made itself known. Vibrant green flora steadily crept its way back up the freshly built structures, making it known to all who the true ruler of Sol'yc Resa was. The Crusaders who called it home were not inclined to disagree. They made their homes from all that mother nature could provide and spent their nights under her starlit skies. The sounds that drifted through on the calm breeze were ones of enjoyment. Laughter in every tone, coupled with jovial voices telling the tales of daring bravado and the dangerously close calls that caused them. A heavy scent of slow roasted meat in the air was enough to entice any to the flickering circles of orange light dotted around the ancestral village.

Safira sat at the edge of the biggest fire, cast in the bright tones of red and yellow created in the the roaring flames. One hand held the plate of char-grilled flesh steady in her lap, the other nursed the tarnished metal cup filled to the brim with Netra'gal. Safira was content to sit quietly and listen, sipping at the sweet black ale that had a habit of sticking to the rim of whatever vessel held it. The atmosphere spoke volumes of just how much everyone seemed to need the night of celebration. A night to let their hair down and relax, a night to remember the days of old and speak excitedly of the ones to come. The Crusade had gone well, it had done its job of reminding everyone who they were, to make fresh the memories that had once felt faded and frayed. Tonight was about regrouping, rejoicing, and planning for a future nobody thought would ever come around.

Slender, caramel fingers picked at the food on the plate resting precariously in her lap. The tender meat was salty enough to counteract the sickly sweet alcohol she clutched in her hand. Many different tales surrounded the circumference of the fire, each told in their own tone of joy, sorrow or horror. Nobody from her clan had arrived yet, and Safira hardly had the experience to pipe up with her own stories. At least not with ones that would impress and shock like many of the others did. For a moment she toyed with the idea of talking a walk through the ancestral forests that surrounded the village, but the night was growing darker. A chill would set in the air soon and she wasn't drunk enough to feel the warming benefits of alcohol. Especially not in the dress Nya had insisted on picking out for her. Perhaps later she'd brave the shadowy realm that lay just beyond the tree line. But for now, she simply sat, relishing in the rare hours of stress free fun that made the atmosphere feel more like home.

As she settled back to truly invest herself in the meal, she spotted [member=Calixte Diantha] drawing close to the flames. Safira had found herself rather fond of the red haired woman during the crusade. The hand clutching her mug gestured over toward her as a smile broke over Safi's face. 'Su cuy'gar, Calixte!' She called out over the sound of chatter and roaring flames. 'Come sit with me!'

 

[Kaden Farr]

Wearing: xxx
w. [member="Safira Varad"] | [member="Calixte Diantha"] | [member="Rylan Kordel"]


The night was dark save the light which licked the cool air of the night sky. Sparks flew about with every pop and crackle of the wood as the flames consumed the timber with relative ease. Fire was powerful. It was violent and also necessary for life. Kaden had often clung to the heat of the flame as he survived the darkest places of the netherworld, places so dark that the flame could not hope to cast its light beyond mere inches. The heat had been what Kaden had needed. Cold darkness, a reminder that nothing but the cold feeling of emptiness awaited him in afterlife, pushed him to the flames.

As he drew near the smell of meat and intoxicants caused him to make a sight detour. Kaden slapped some of the meat on a plate and grabbed a mug of whatever home brew had been brought to celebrate in ways that only true Mando'ade could. It wasn't that Kaden was unhappy, he simply felt no emotion, or little. His life had been one abandonment after another. With the death of his parents and the spurning of the woman he had married, Kaden refused to allow himself to feel. His heart was lined with with the thickest of beskar, and no one person, or anything, would be able to penetrate it.

His small detour ended when his plate was full and the breeze sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling Kaden hated the most as it had been a constant in the Netherworld. Always having to look over his shoulder had made him paranoid until he had met her, his mother. Selene had changed all of that, but even that had come with a price. His offering to her would be the death of those who had wronged him, but also her entry into the world. She wanted a way back, and she wanted to control, and Kaden was going to see she would get it. However, Kaden had also promised that if she gave him life again that he would live it. That was why he was at the gathering in the first place.

Kaden knew no one.

He sat near the large fire, and looked to the others who were gathered, two women and one man. He nodded to them as he pulled out a cigarra.

"Do any of you mind if I smoke?" His question was aimed at the one with sable curls. She seemed to be the friendly one.

 

[Calixte Diantha]

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Wearing: [This]​

Tags: [member="Safira Varad"], [member="Kaden Farr"], [member="Rylan Kordel"]​

Having not originally spotted anyone she knew right away, Calixte had stepped off to the side so that she could get herself something to drink. She wasn’t really hungry, at least not yet, so food was passed up for now. Grey eyes squint into the dark confines of her taken cup, and a tentative sip gave way to sticky sweetness that caused the redhead to make a soft noise in her throat. The second pressing of the rim of the cup to her lips gave way to a bolder drink of its contents, and just about that time she heard familiarity in the form of greeting.

Cali half turned and gave a slow look around the immediate area, and when she spotted [member="Safira Varad"] she couldn’t help but to smile. Finding herself fond of the other curly haired woman had not been something Calixte had expected, but here they were. Normally, every acquaintance in the redhead’s life served a purpose, a means to an end – but lately? Not so much. She was finding real value in the people around her, and while it was something she was certainly not used to, she wasn’t all that opposed.

When she was beckoned over, Cali didn’t hesitate. She shifted the rest of the way in that direction and carried herself and her drink over to sit with the other woman. “What did you find?” she questioned, peering curiously into Safira’s cup, though could recognize the sweetness without having to taste it. See? The pair of them had some subconscious, in tuned thing going on. “Ah, see? A woman after my own heart.” She teased with a grin.

Her grey-eyed gaze shifted however when they were joined by another body. For a moment she studied [member="Kaden Farr"], and her fingers drummed idly against the outside of her cup. While he seemed to be addressing her dark-curled counterpart, the redhead shrugged her shoulders at the inquiry presented to what few of them were actually gathered. “I certainly don’t mind.” She stated, and then took another healthy drink from her cup. With as sweet as it was, it was better to drink it fast and get it out of the way, and one of two things would happen. Either it would start to affect her taste buds and repulse her, or it would numb them and it wouldn’t matter what she drank for the rest of the night.

 

[Ardasz Verd]

The grizzled, tired man sat with one leg crossed over the other, which hung lazily over an equipment crate they had unloaded during a busy day of work. He watched the others group up around the fires, all glad to be together, to spend time in the company of family. It had been a good, long time since any of them set foot on ancestral turf, and even longer since they did so on pleasant terms.

The younger Verd were by and large children of the Brothers and Sisters he fought alongside in the last crusade. He recognized them as children that they had left back home on Mandalore, on Concord Dawn, and on Echoy'la when they brought war to the bastard Republic. They would not, he thought, recognize him.

Suited Ardasz just fine. Isley and he were the senior moembers of the Verd clan present, but they only needed one man to claim the title Alor. They only needed one Leader. Instead, he took a long drag of his smoke and tossed his lighter toward [member="Kaden Farr"], aiming for the man's head. He offered a wry smirk and a wink, but nothing else.

He had shed the torso layers of his armor and only wore a tank top and his leg armor now. No matter how many times he stripped parts off, putting them back on felt normal. Ah, to be Mandalorian- nothing like it in the Galaxy.

 

[Haastal Haran]

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[member="Ardasz Verd"] | [member="Calixte Diantha"] | [member="Kaden Farr"] | [member="Safira Varad"] | [member="Rylan Kordel"]​

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Achilles, Haastal, damn it was starting to confuse him more than he expected. He exhaled as he walked out of the cabin-like shack he had been "gifted" from the Mandalorians. Wasn't much, but it was enough for the time being. He wore a pair of old jeans and a grey t-shirt, nothing special, in fact it was about all he had to wear. Old tattered clothes that he'd either bought at some discount shop or just found on a mission. Some of it fit, a lot of it didn't. Didn't really matter as he spent most of his time in his armor. Hell, it was more comfortable than this chit. He made his way over to [member="Ardasz Verd"], and plopped down on a log not far from where the older Mandalorian reclined.

He had a small bowl of apples in his hand. He'd picked a few, hoping to have something to snack on throughout the day, but in the end he didn't eat many of them. He tossed one to Ardasz and another to [member="Kaden Farr"]. He turned his attention back to Ardasz, looking to the man with an almost agitated expression before finally. "Su cuy'gar." He'd heard [member="Isley Verd"] and [member="Safira Varad"] use the word a few times throughout the day. Still no karking clue what the damn word meant. "So what's that mean?" He asked, looking to the man with an expectant gleam in his eye.

Ardasz and Isley had taken some time out to teach Achilles the language of the Mandalorians, Mando'a. It wasn't all that complicated, especially thanks to the mental augmentations that the man had. Still, he caught more through immersion than to just sit down and listen to Isley and Ardasz go back and forth saying karking words like droids. He bit into his apple, scratching the back of his head before he looked to all the people gathered. They were all different, but they still considered each other family. Kind of a stupid notion, but not one that Achilles resented. He huffed before swallowing the bite of apple and looking to Ardasz once again. "So if you're all Mandalorians, why aren't you fighting with the Mandalorian Empire? You guys go rogue or somethin'?"

 

[Rylan Kordel]

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[member="Calixte Diantha"] | [member="Safira Varad"] | [member="Kaden Farr"] | [member="Ardasz Verd"] | [member="Haastal Verd"]​

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His eyes danced from face to face, scanning everyone in silent thought, a faint smile on his lips under the thickening beard on his face, the two women being friendly, the first male to approach he appraised to be a fighter, maybe one who lost something to do with their humanity long ago judging by the cold look in his eyes. When the man asked if people minded, Rylan shrugged, "Feel free, vod.", it felt good to speak the language again, freeing almost, it had been too long, and he raised his mug in Kaden's direction with a smile.

The next two faces he saw near by, he could tell one was a veteran of many conflicts like himself, and probably a dangerous man to press, someone that would make for a good brother in the battles to come, the next though, caused him to chuckle as he questioned the older man on the meaning of words, "New to our way of life, friend?" he asked with curiosity, in truth, Rylan had never really dealt with new blood among their people before. He sipped more at his mug of tihaar, curious to hear each thing everyone around him said, it felt nice to be with family and friends again, it brought purpose and meaning to a life filled with so much strife.

 

[Nya]

Tag: Open

Peace.

There had been nights on Nar Shaddaa, evenings where she'd managed to steal enough to rent herself a room and sit nestled within the warm glow of the lights that made up the city-planet's skyline. Perch herself along the edge of the shabby beds and stare out the windows into the mess of metal and glow and just let the constant hum help her to ignore the constant hum from within her own head... But it was nothing like this place.

Isley had promised her comfort, had lead Safira and Nya to a place they'd called home for many a night on Genosis - and though the space had been blissful, just like herself they both appeared to yearn for something else. She'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it was the same song that her own heart sung - a call to be free, to move on... But when they'd landed on Roon, she'd realized that it had been a pipe dream; a blinding hope that she'd allowed to cloud her vision. They'd been searching for home - somewhere that was truly their own, and this place... This place stood a good chance to give them that.

It hurt a little, realizing that within the circle of love she'd created for herself, still there was an absence of understanding... But she could never begrudge them this. Nights spent in a tumble of sheets and laughter had led to stories; tales recounted by both Isley and Safira of a time when they had a home, when their people had not been dar'manda and instead enjoyed all the safety and joy that family brought... They'd managed to find a new family in the times that followed, but they were not allowed to go back to the place they called home. It must have hurt a part of them that Nya knew with certainty no longer resided within herself.

Peace.

This place could be that. For both Isley and Safira, Roon represented a truly unique opportunity. They could find the connection to their people, their family, here that would hearken back to Mandalore without the need to deal with the chit that awaited them there. Roon would be their home - and by association, so too would it become hers.

These thoughts chased the cool night chill from her skin as Nya wandered alone in the thick of the woods. When they'd first landed she'd done as was needed and assisted with getting the party started at the massive bonfires that burned at the village's center... But the warmth they provided had been fleeting, unable to reach her as the hours had worn on. So she did as she was want to do, and she wandered. Letting the calm and quiet of the night wrap around her like the fire couldn't seem to manage. It couldn't keep the whispers away; nothing could keep the whispers away, but this was as close to peace as she had known in years... It was almost like home... Almost.

 

[Galaar Fett]

Location: Bonfire, along with the rest of those celebrating
Equipment: Duel DE-10 pistols attached to hips
Objective: Drink, socialize, hibira from others
Tags: [member="Haastal Verd"] [member="Ardasz Verd"] [member="Calixte Diantha"] [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Rylan Kordel"]

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“What it means…” The man spoke as he walked up to the bonfire, wooden mug filled to the brim with his first glass of Netra'gal for the night, patting the man on the shoulder as he sat down beside [member="Haastal Verd"] and [member="Ardasz Verd"], giving [member="Rylan Kordel"] a short nod before continuing, “..is quite literally, “You’re still alive?”” He gave a light laugh off before sipping from his mug, glancing over to Rylan as he did so. “Answering questions with questions tonight? For shame.”

The middle aged man gave off a short laugh before turning his attention back to the fire, allowing the evaar’la beroya to continue his thoughts. It was interesting to hear them from someone who was new the culture, the way of life that was mandalorain. It reminded him of a time when he was much younger, learning the ways of his people from his father. It was a way of life that certainly got taking getting used to, so he took care not to judge those he had no idea how far into the process they were.

He was quiet for a moment, allowing anyone that wanted to speak before him on the question that the younger man asked speak up first. When no one did, however, his gruff voice filled the air around the campfire. “For me, I might be fighting for them had it not been for my great grandfather. Three generations ago, he split from the Mandalorian empire and took his wife and their two kids to Hoylin, where he began a new clan.”

Taking a moment to take a sip from his mug, he continued, doing his best to cut out the uninteresting bits but leaving in the main core of the story. “From there, he began a new life. There would be others that come to join the Hoylin Fetts, but it was slow growing. My grandfather grew up with my great grandfather while they continued to build a life there. Eventually my father was born and grew up in the Mandalorain culture, and then myself. We were told stories of the atrocities they committed, why my great grandfather took the clan away from them, even if it meant uprooting from our homeland.” Another sip from his mug made him pause the little speech, and as he did so his eyes met those surrounding the bonfire. Slowly, he lowered his mug to finish off what he had to say. “Now, as the leader of the clan, as is my birthright…I plan on moving them here. It is only 40 to 50 people, and I believe we have restored this place to where it is viable for us to finally take root on our ancestral homeworld again.”

With chuckle, he set aside his mug to lean against the log in the dirt, crossing his ankles and folding his hand across his stomach. “So if any of you young, muscular hunters want to help with some moving, I would be appreciative. I leave in the morning. You’d be paid in food.” He shrugged, not expecting any sort of response that would indicate they would be coming along, though he hoped to be pleasantly surprised.

 

[Ardasz Verd]

Ardasz caught the apple thrown toward him deftly and turned it over in his hand, examining it for blemishes. Satisfied with the overall look of the fruit, he began wiping it off on his undershirt and made to speak. He didn't have the chance before someone who he didn't know started answering for him.

He eyed the man in silence as he started talking about his clan and their history. Ardasz pulled the cigarra from his mouth and raised the apple to his lips, taking a sizable bite and chewing. He zoned out somewhere in the middle of the story about the Fett Clan twice removed- or however many generations it was.

He swallowed down the tart fruit and returned to his recreational habit, just in time for the man to finish his spiel and ask for help. "Heed old man Fett here," Ardasz warned, "this is what you get when too many Mandos start grouping together in one place. Everyone wants to hear themselves talk. Su'cuy gar is how we greet each other. In our culture, any time you leave home there's a chance you aren't coming back." He tossed a quick wink toward [member="Haastal Verd"], then expelled a plume of smoke.

"Mandalorians aren't an Empire," Ardasz explained. "It's an idea born of folly, raised up by people who want to hold onto power. Every Clan is independent, and has its own Alor, or leader. Verd is led by Isley, and," he gestured in the direction of [member="Galaar Fett"], "our new friend here sounds to be the leader of some branch of Aliit Vhett."

He eyed the bitten off section of apple for a bit and considered how he wanted to explain why they divorced themselves from the rest of their culture. Friction was only the beginning of it. "We don't have Kings or Queens, no Emperor or Empress. We have Mand'alor- the sole ruler, who rallies the Clans for war. By our very nature, we are divided- chaotic, unruly, wild, destructive. Mando'ade cannot be controlled. Merely directed.

So to say that one entity speaks for all of us is foolish. Some of us want nothing more than to till our farmland, while others of us hunger for something more fulfilling." He flung the rest of the fruit into the fire, where it instantly withered and turned brown, then black.

"We want a War that will never be forgotten," he whispered, his voice filled with childish wonder, "a conflict to dwarf anything that came before it, and legends that will carry our names through to eternity. Legacy is what sets us apart, Haas'ika," he explained, his voice returning to normal.

"We want to be remembered."

 

[Haastal Haran]

[member="Ardasz Verd"] | [member="Galaar Fett"] | [member="Rylan Kordel"]​

If nothing else the Mandalorians were pretty damn interesting. When Achilles had first hear of the Mandalorians, he would hear the occasional story of their past conquests or maybe some rumors on their leader, Mand'alor. Easy to say, Achilles was a bit interested in just how these soldiers did things. The way they fought was unlike any Mercenary unit he'd signed on to, and if nothing else he respected that. He turned his dark brown eyes to [member="Rylan Kordel"], inclining his head at the man before showing another of his wry grins. “Somethin’ like that.” He said, glancing to Ardasz for a moment before digging into his pocket, producing a small pack of cigarras. “Im supposed to make myself a true Mandalorian.” He placed one of the cylinders between his lips, lighting it with a lighter he pulled from his other pocket. “Whatever the hell that means.”

After lighting the cigarra, Achilles took a shallow drag from it, blowing a small plume of smoke into the air over him. It was eventually [member="Galaar Fett"] who answered Achilles question.

He glanced back to Galaar before turning to Ardasz with a questioning expression. “You're still alive?” He chuckled a bit, placing a hand over his face as his chuckle grew to more of a laughter. “Man y'all are karkin’ crazy.” He loved it. He may not admit it, but he did love every bit of it.

When Ardasz spoke again, Achilles nodded in understanding. When it came to the plight of the Mandalorians outside of the United Clans, Achilles did not know just what to think. Honestly he didn't really care why or who the Mandalorians fought for. It was no different than being a mercenary, you go where the profit is. It wasn't that simple to them, but he could make it simple enough. Both Galaar and Ardasz explained a bit about the Mandalorian way, each of them explaining it as best they could. With smoke from his cigarra still billowing out from his lips, Achilles bit into his apple once again. He gave a thoughtful expression before swallowing the bit of fruit.

“Ok. So how do I become a Mandalorian? Who do I have to kill?” He asked, nobody in particular, though he did look back to Ardasz once again.

“Haastal said I have to become a Mandalorian. That's how I repay my debt. So what does that mean?” He asked, just before taking another drag of his cigarra.

 

[Keira Priest]

The old channel had mostly been kept around for the sake of nostalgia. Keira had never expected it to see use again, let alone for the purpose it was originally intended for. Being jolted awake at the early hours of the morning wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been in her younger years, and she’d cursed to herself as she finally managed to get the comms to quiet, freezing in place as she read the message.

She took one breath and then another to calm herself, running a hand over her head and looking about her room as if that would help make sense of things. Finally she decided to don her armor, finding strange comfort in the weight of the beskar’gam as it settled against her frame. Armament was kept sparse, her sidearms being the only weaponry she deemed to carry on her person.

Why she was making an effort to show up was anyone’s guess, but it had something to do with settling old scores. There were plenty of those left over, especially if he’d been the one to send out the call.

***​

​

Her arrival was kept quiet, and she made certain to land far enough away that none of them would take note. Ideally she would be just another armored figuring joining the gathering, save for the fact that her buy’ce remained in place. She wasn’t here to be recognized, but to watch, listen and learn. In her life she’d seen many a regime fall, and was far more cautious about pledging herself to any one cause.

Sticking to the outskirts of those making conversation, leaning up against a nearby tree with arms crossed. There were newcomers in their midst, and she cocked her head as she listened to his questions about their people, smiling beneath her helmet. Gods, she’d never felt so old until right then.

“It means you live and die by the Resol’nare and all of its six tenets. The act itself is your verd’goten. Your trial and rebirth as a warrior. Which aliit are you, ad’ika?”

[member="Haastal Verd"] | [member="Ardasz Verd"] | [member="Galaar Fett"]

 

[Isran Varad]

Location: Sol'yc Resa, Roon​

Tag: [member="Rylan Kordel"], [member="Safira Varad"], [member="Calixte Diantha"], [member="Ardasz Verd"], [member="Haastal Verd"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Keira Verd"], [member="Galaar Fett"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Kaden Farr"]​

Up until now, he was at her side.

After the initial preparations had been made and the bonfires roared to life, [member="Nya"] rose from the encampment. She had that look in her eyes that the Mandalorian had seen many times before. It was the same expression which saw her depart from their lodgings on Geonosis in the middle of the night to explore the winding streets. It was the same look that bid her to move in no direction in particular. To this day, he never understood how such a lust for wandering came about. But, when she did wander, the blonde woman seemed at peace. And thus, her warrior never voiced a word of complaint or questioning. Rather, there were times when he would rise with her and see what laid on the paths unbeaten.

Such was it that, for a time, he was the shadow only a pace behind Nya. As she ducked underneath fallen branches and danced over puddles of water, the armored man thundered behind her. She was grace, he was Force. Where she moved with the flow of nature, he broke through whatever stood in his path. This reality seemed to extend far beyond just the walk of the present - for when it came to them as people, their foundations were just as opposing. Hers was not the lifestyle of a warrior, no matter how many times Isley attempted to coax the Resol'nare into her spirit. But despite their differences, the joy they painted together was as vibrant as the setting sun.

Tonight, the Mandalorian was simply glad she found a way to be herself upon this distant world. For as long as she had been apart of the family shared betwixt them and [member="Safira Varad"], she had been exposed to a number of worlds and a number of battles. Yet here, Isley hoped to finally settle down and be Home. To build for them something that was far better than an apartment in a seedier corner of town - but rather, a place to truly feel safe, happy, and secure. It seemed that, for as satisfied as Nya glided across the forest, perhaps she was just as pleased with Roon as he. But, as much as it pained him to leave her side, the bonfires wouldn't remain lit forever. Thus, before heading back, his gloved hand found hers and raised it to his helm. The cool beskar graced the rear of her hand as he stated:

"If you need me, I'm here."

And with that, true quiet befell the woods - for the destructor of branches and splasher of puddles stomped his way back to First Light. As he drew near, the absolute tail end of many overlapping conversations reached his ears. Idle chatter characterized each bonfire he passed - some discussed goings ons in the Galaxy. Some sang drinking shanties from Wayland, Mandalore, or Taris. Yet the one which grabbed his attention straightaway was the one being uttered between members of his clan and newfound comrades. Isley did his best not to interrupt as they spoke, finding for himself a log to settle himself upon.

He listened to [member="Ardasz Verd"] explained the nature of the Mandalorian people to [member="Haastal Verd"]. He hearkened to the history of [member="Galaar Fett"] 's family branch and his desire for aide in relocating. And whilst they spoke, his eyes scanned from underneath their visor for his shadow. She, at the behest of their companion, had left the beskar'gam aboard their vessel in favor of a dress. Isley didn't have a single damn word of complaint at that, for the young Varad proved that red was her color everytime. For the moment, it seemed she was enjoying herself, so he didn't interrupt - though their eyes would meet at least once whilst she chatted away. The fact that she seemed at ease among her people - among their people - was enough to cause a small smile to grow upon his face.

Finally, there was a pause in the conversation - punctuated by a voice that Isley recognized. He froze, briefly, before putting the thought that the [member="Keira Verd"] who spoke was the same woman from his "home." Everyone was different here - even though certain events were set in stone. So, even if she was the criminal-turned-warrior that he knew...she wouldn't be the same. So he didn't touch it with a ten foot pole, but rather piggy-backed off of what she said. "Being a Mandalorian is simple. Speak the language. Wear armor. Defend yourself and your family. Pull your weight for your clan. Raise your children as warriors. And..." he paused, accepting a skin full of wine that was being passed around. "Rally to the cause of the Sole Ruler."

He raised his helm slightly and took a swig from the skin. His next words were heralded by a satisfied sigh. "But, the Crusade, out of necessity, has to regard that sixth tenet differently. Until such time as Mandalore is ruled by one who holds the interests of all of us truly at heart, then we will rally to the cause of the Crusade alone. That is our Sole Ruler." Another swig. "Does that make sense?"

 

[Safira Haran]

​

​

[member=Calixte Diantha] | [member=Kaden Farr]​

​

​

A wave of relief washed over her expression as the warrioress swayed over toward the bench. Safira was all for making new friends but it was a relief to see a familiar face. Especially after having sighted the swaying hips of the blonde beauty, [member=Nya], disappearing into the tree line. The ebony woman was on the edge of being worried about a third of her heart in wondering alone in the depths of a shadowy forest. In fact, she was almost about to apologise to Calixte and follow Nya when she saw Isley had already read her mind. A brief smile overtook her expression before she devoted herself and her attention to Calixte commenting on her choice of beverage. With a flourish she lifted the drink a little closer to her. 'Netra'gal!' Her ebony curls bounced as her head nodded, a lively smile on her face at the redhead's jest. In response she lifted the mug a little higher to clash against Calixte's, after which her lips sought out the cool rim to take a deep drink of the sickly sweet ale.

'It's nice to finally meet you away from the battlefield.' They'd fought well together during the crusade, the two of them being rather like minded in more ways than one. Calixte was fierce, sharp, and rather quick witted, some qualities which Safira had always had a fondness for. She was more than eager to get to know her away from the battlefield just as well as she knew her on it. As she settled back to dive into conversation with her friend, they were joined by another who felt familiar, but Safira had no memory of meeting him. 'Nope.' Safira shook her head as in response to his question. 'Smoke away.' She responded with warm smile and a gesture of her arm that invited him to sit with them. 'I don't think we've met before. I'm Safira. This is Calixte.' One of her fingers gestured toward the redheaded companion by her side.

As she spoke the gathering around the fire grew, now party to many faces she had seen during the crusades. Faces that looked as though they'd seen many more battles than she had. In truth, she was glad to be sat a little away from them. Safira was slowly grasping what it truly meant to be Mandalorian, but amongst all the hardened warriors she imagined she would feel quite small. 'Actually. I'm really pleased to see you, Calixte.' She drew her eyes away and returned to the pale beauty. 'I have a job you might want in on. I've been sitting on it and hoping I'd catch you.' She smirked, an air of mystery about her tone as she took another sip of her drink. 'But that can wait, we should enjoy tonight. Remind me later.' Safira lent forward into the fire's warm embrace, a smile on her lips as she caught the eye of [member=Isley Verd] through the flames.

Her raven eyes carried on watching as he focused his attentions on the bigger group. Within the family they had created for themselves, home seemed a strange concept to each one. It was fluid, moving as they moved. Ever since Isley had mentioned Roon Safira had been determined to make it something for the three of them to call their own. Something tangible. Somewhere they all longed to return too when they left. So far, this was proving to be a promising start. When Safira looked away she settled on the new comer with a intrigued, yet friendly, smile. She finally realised why he was so familiar. It wasn't his face, it was his voice. 'I think I've heard Hastaal talk about you. In fact, I remember...' A light laugh punctuated her sentence. 'You're the one who saved his shebs during the Crusade?'

 

[Garza]

"And when would that time be Ba'vodu?

I had been silent. Many spoke to one another. Each and every one of them catching up on times long gone, or times of the past. Meeting up, and seeing another face within the Family that had been considered extinct. There are many people in this galaxy that I enjoy my time with. Many people who I have come to consider allies. In recent years, those numbers have dwindled. With taking my time away from the wars and raising my daughter, I had made no contact to the outside world. I took my time. I did what I thought was necessary.

Never would I think that I could see my own uncle again in a form that I knew him as. A Mandalorian clad in armor from head to toe and prepared for war. The man who once owned the saber that united Crusaders across the stars. The very weapon I had based my own saber on. Now as the blade was long lost, so too were the Crusaders.

Or so I had believed.

They were rising from the ashes as all Mandalorians do. Wiping the dirt from their shoulders, and cleaning the blood from their visors to fight with one more breath. Hopefully this time, the Crusaders would last. Hopefully, they would strengthen under the spear tip that was the Confederacy. May the gods will it so.

Standing up, adorned in an armor that had once long be left in the dust. An armor that this man should know. I reached up to remove the helmet and expose my face to the man who I had considered a second Father. The man who literally threw me into a planet to survive on my own for disobeying his order. Only to survive and climb my way back up. Barely did I keep my life let alone my previous standing with the Crusaders. Sink or Swim was his life. And so too was mine. I had learned from him, and I hoped one day, he from I.

"Will the Reclaimer come home to raise the Crusaders?"

The smirk barely making its way upon my face.

"If so, then you have my sword."

[member="Safira Varad"], [member="Isley Verd"], [member="Keira Verd"], [member="Haastal Verd"], [member="Ardasz Verd"], [member="Galaar Fett"], [member="Nya"], [member="Nya"], [member="Rylan Kordel"], [member="Calixte Diantha"],

 

[Calixte Diantha]

The area surrounding the largest fire was quickly filling up with more bodies, and yet Calixte had seen more than one venture on past and disappear out into the dark. The redhead of course remained seated beside [member="Safira Varad"], because while she recognized faces from encounters here and there, she didn’t know very many of them by more than sight. The other curly haired woman was at least someone she not only recognized, but had at least had conversation with. Granted, it had been in the midst of battle, but it was still conversation!

It was enough to keep her rooted to her spot, and with Safira answered to the affirmative as to what was in her cup, Cali grinned and bumped shoulders with the other woman before taking a long swig from her own cup. The multiple conversations going on around them didn’t seem to phase Cali all that much. She tuned in here or there, but mostly it wasn’t anything she really had much to say about. There were plenty of other people littered about to answer whatever questions were tossed around, and so that made it that much easier for the curly redhead to focus on the things Safira was saying to her instead.

Like being introduced to someone. Grey eyes drifted across the distance between the two women and [member="Kaden Farr"]. She had said literally just spoken to him, and yet hadn’t had the thought to introduce herself properly cross her mind. Her proper social etiquette needed work, most definitely. And since she had been introduced, the redhead offered a smile and lifted her free hand in means of greeting before she once again took another drink.

Her focus once again shifted when the woman beside her spoke up, and it caused Cali to shift just a bit in her seated position so that she was better facing Safira and could hear her better. “A job?” both of her brows lofted at that. “Well I can tell you right now that if it’s any sort of job that renders profit? I’m going to want in.” she smirked in amusement and even waggled her eyebrows playfully before looking away. Talk of jobs could most definitely wait until another time. Tonight was a night for having a good time after all, wasn’t it? Business would still be there tomorrow – hopefully.

For now, the redhead went back to enjoying her drink, and with the lax atmosphere she even began to sway in her seat some. Not enough to infringe on Safira’s personal space – not yet at least, give her time to build up her playful edge – but definitely enough to indicate that she was definitely comfortable in her own skin around those currently gathered around the fire.

 

[Galaar Fett]

Location: Bonfire, along with the rest of those celebrating
Equipment: Duel DE-10 pistols attached to hips
Objective: Drink, socialize, hibira from others
Tags: [member="Haastal Verd"] [member="Ardasz Verd"] [member="Calixte Diantha"] [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Rylan Kordel"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Isley Verd"]

​

He couldn’t help but smile at [member="Ardasz Verd"] at the old man comment, coming from a man that looked not too much older than himself. Galaar said nothing, however, letting the man speak his own peace, only silently nodding and taking swigs of his drink as he did so. What the man said, about an empire, was true in it’s own right. For Galaar, he did believe exactly what the man talked about to a point. There was such a thing as too many mandalorians in one place, especially such as what happened on Mandalore. Clans still needed to have the authority of being their own clan and family, without having to be controlled by someone else’s ambitions. However, there were exceptions to this rule, where all the clans in a group could benefit from working together. Perhaps what was going on here could be one of those situations.

As others continued to speak, discussing what it meant to be Mandalorian, the reslo’nare, he couldn’t help but thinking back on what he was taught back with the clan on Hoylin. They were taught to follow the reslo’nare, absolutely, but the third pillar was most important in his teachings. Defend the family, especially one being as small as they were, definitely came first. Though, as he had been taught, not everyone that was blood should be considered family, and those not related by blood could become family. When he took a moment to look around the bonfire at the others, noting those that wore the armor, carried themselves as mandalorians, he couldn’t help but smile lightly at the thought of finding a few new family members here.

His thoughts were interrupted by a man he did not recognize, standing and looking toward the Mandalorian he had fought with during the group’s last raid. Listening as the man pledged his sword to this so called Reclaimer, his eyes settled on [member="Isley Verd"], looking him over. Obviously Galaar knew of him and the crusades he had been on before, but this was certainly different. In the eyes of the great “empire,” all that sat by this fire were dar’manda for not following in their ways. In all honesty, the middle aged man just wanted what was best for his family, his clan. He wasn’t sure joining up on some grand crusade aligned with that thought, so he sat back, wanting to allow others to take their turn and expressing their thoughts.