Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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First Light | Crusaders

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w. [member="Calixte Diantha"] | [member="Safira Varad"]

A lighter was tossed his way, and it seemed the others around him didn't mind whether he smoked or not. Kaden shrugged after he caught the lighter and nodded a thank you to the man. The cigara was placed between his lips as he lit the rolled tobacco and took his initial drag. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the effect of inhaling the substance coursed through his body. The lighter was tossed back to [member="Ardasz Verd"] aiming for his head in return with an amused look on his face.

His attention turned to the women who were sitting with him. The sable haired woman spoke in an attempt to place him, but this was the first time heh had been around other Mando'ade since his death. She introduced herself, and the redhead, to which Kaden nodded. "Kaden Farr," he replied having abandoned Yasha's name in this life. He had only taken her name because no other Farrs had followed Ra the Undying. His laws had mandated that no name would be used if they were not a recognized clan among those following him. Now that he was free of it all he could have any name he wanted, and Kaden went back to the one he was born with. Perhaps this time the angry child would make something of that name.

Kaden returned to his drink as the women talked about some kind of job. He was never one to interfere in business. His eyes surveyed the faces around him and recognized no one. All of them were new to him, and once again Kaden was starting over. This was still much more preferred to the Netherworld, but no one around the fire would be able to share in his stories. That was a good thing perhaps, but he knew he was already the odd one out as he sat there taking a drink of the liquid in the mug he had with him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the one known as Safira spoke to him again. He shrugged.

"Hastaal, sure I guess. He was the one getting chased by that gunship? That was me yeah. A thermal detonator in one of the thruster's exhaust ports usually brings those things down easily. A gunship is way easier to bring down than a massive blood dragon or anything else in the Netherworld that might to eat you."

It wasn't exactly the most sociable thing to say, but Kaden smirked nonetheless.

"I have gotten good at killing things to survive. This fire... this is a nice change of pace."
 

Nya

Guest
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Location: Woods Surrounding Sol'yc Resa, Roon
Tag: [member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Safira Varad"] | Open

His presence at her back was not unwelcome as she'd wandered the woods - but it wasn't also an aching absence as he left her. Isley was a boon to her, but the calm and silence of the trees, bathed in the moons cold glow, was a balm to what ached at her chest. 'I'm here' - of course he was. He and Safira were always there for her of late, and she would never stop being grateful for that... But they wouldn't be enough if she didn't get her head under control. She turned a touch, glancing over her shoulder to offer the beskar clad warrior a gentle smile as he retreated back towards the warmth of the flames they'd left behind. Back to their guests... His people.

A soft sigh escaped her as she turned again towards the wilds that surrounded the small village and trekked onward. The retreating sounds of heavy boots thudding into the ground, crushing twigs and splashing in puddles was a good reminder of the differences that she was beginning to feel growing in abundance. The pair were wonderful - kind, passionate, fun-loving... Mandolorian. The craved battle and family and home. Nya craved... Well, that was the issue, wasn't it? She wasn't quite sure.

Her wandering brought her to a massive felled tree, the ancient trunk leaning precariously against the side of a stone outcropping like a very steep, rung-less ladder. Hands reached and gripped at the cool bark as the blonde hoisted herself up onto the trunk, and crouching she ascended up the slope to the stones that the trunk had fallen against. The rocks were bare of any growth, pale and smooth in the moons light. She carefully moved to the edge of the plateau that had naturally formed at the apex of the stones and seated herself with her legs dangling.

In the distance, through the trees, she could see the gentle glow of the flames, the ashen grey smoke a dark smudge across the star-filled sky. Her hands moved to wrap around her waist, elbows resting lightly against her thighs as she leaned forward. The lightest of breezes swept across the bare rocks, her hair lifting and fluttering about her face and shoulders before settling once more. She sighed gently into that breeze and settled to watch the festivities from a distance, content to give herself some room to think for the time being.
 
Location: Wilds

Faust Skirata's buy'ce hit the sand with a thump, soon followed by a louder clank as his shuko'rok landed atop it. Relishing the touch of the cold night air against his ravaged features, he stepped into the murmuring waters and waded out toward its center, until he was submerged from the waist down, and the noise of the river was loud enough to drown out the laughter and singing drifting from the nearby fires.

"Kad," he began, his voice a low growl, "haa'taylir sha gar gaanla." The knife blade kissed his palm and slid along its length, raising a line of dark blood in its wake. "Dinuir ni kot at kyr'amur gar aru'ese." Another cut, intersecting the first on the outermost edge. "Dinuir ni kot at ijaat ner vod." The final cut broke through the others, running from the base of his thumb to the base of his pinky. He ran his palm across his face, drawing a diagonal splash of crimson from brow to jaw. "Dinuir ni kot at Crusade."

Moving deliberately, reverantly, the priest lowered the knife into the river, letting the flowing water carry away the evidence of his ritual before returning it to its sheath.

The glow of Kad's blessing left him feeling enlivened, exalted, and he found himself reluctant to leave. Instead he peered up at the stars, yellow eyes twinkling with the reflection of their light as he considered his place in the galaxy. It was a strange situation he found himself in, fighting against the very Empire he'd been chosen to serve. As a warpriest he had expected to deliver Kad'ad'en to Jedi and Sith, godless heathens and servants of Arasuum one and all; instead, his own people had proven themselves stagnant, corrupt. There was no other path, and yet the priest's heart bled all the same.

'Soon,' he vowed in silence, 'everyone will feel the nau be Kad'tracyn.'

Heaving a sigh, Faust turned at last to make his way back to the shore. Stooping to retrieve his gauntlets and helm, he tucked them under one arm and shot a glance at the massive strill lounging in the sand a few feet away. "Olaror, cyar'ika, vi ru'kir to cuun vod."

The black-furred creature watched the priest disappear into the trees with lambent eyes. After another few moments it rose, stretched leisurely, and padded after him.
 
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It took everything in her not to immediately put a round in his head as soon as he spoke, but to her credit her arms remained crossed, and Keira exercised what restraint she’d learned in her later years to not drop him on the spot. As much as it would be deserved, now was not the time or place for such a conflict. Honor duels were best left to more suitable venues, if the man that stood before her was deserving of anything resembling honor anymore.

“For one who still knows our ways so well, it’s strange how easily you abandoned them, dar’vod.” Her tone would be no different than it had been when she first spoke up, but her gaze would rest only on [member="Isley Verd"]. “This is the second time you’ve returned to the vode. Am I to believe you won’t walk away again and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces?”

Straightening, she stepped closer to the fire so that she might face him properly, arms now at her sides as she prepared to act within a moment’s notice if it came to that. “For what reason do you return? If any here allowed a dar’manda to claim any right to our people, then this is a cause my own won’t follow. Any claim to Aliit Verd ended years ago. You have no claim to leadership, let alone Sole Ruler.”

Unlike their previous encounters, her voice wouldn’t raise beyond what was necessary for him to hear her clearly. This was no one’s business but their own, and the conflict lay between them and no others. “But then, you make your home at the feet of aruetiise among the Confederacy. You’re no more Mandalorian now than you were then.”

[member="Galaar Fett"] | [member="Zephyr Priest"] | [member="Haastal Verd"] | [member="Ardasz Verd"]
 
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Achilles leaned up when he heard the woman's voice come over his shoulder. When the woman spoke that word, Resol'nare it rang through the man's mind for a brief moment. Resol'nare, the warrior tenants that the Mandalorians lived and died by. Haastal had gone on about the Resol'nare in no small amount when the two had first met some weeks ago. He looked to the woman with a curious gaze and considered dismissing her, but she continued to speak so he listened. Next came a few words that Achilles did recognize. Aliit. The clan that he belonged to, he'd adopted Haastal's name as well as his family.

"I run with clan Verd now. So who are you?" Achilles arched a brow at the woman. Her helmet covered her features so it was impossible to know if she was even human or not. That was something about these Mandalorians that he'd have to get used to. A lot of them were aliens and you'd never even know. Achilles turned back to Isley when he began to speak of the six tenants. To be honest, it was pretty much what he'd expected. Be a warrior. While there was a difference between a merc and a warrior, they shared one key aspect that would make the transition a bit smoother.

Even with her helmet on, Achilles could see the fire under that woman's buy'ce. He chuckled a bit as the woman crossed his path to get to Isley. She spoke with a seriousness that was a touch too deep for him, but still damn amusing. He whistled, eyeing [member="Isley Verd"] with an arched brow. "Damn, you gonna let her talk to you like that?" He was an instigator, he really was. He was eager to see just what this woman was made of, maybe he could rile the two up into a brawl. For a moment there was a pause. What was honorable about that? Haastal wouldn't have done it, so he shouldn't have. Achilles was about to say more but decided to just stay quiet for a bit. He'd said more than enough.

Kark, it was going to be a bit difficult to let old habits die.
 
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The sudden outburst.

Turning around, I had first didn't realize who it was. Fearing it was someone new who began to yell at my uncle. However, as soon as I looked into the eyes. Eyes of a woman who had long seen loss and pain. I knew who it was. Keira. My aunt by all rights. While both of us were adopted into the Verd Family, and both of us had our qualms of the family, I still trusted a few. Mostly, it was due to my ties with my father. They are what kept me here. Keira voiced her concern. Bringing up the values of a Leader should not be cast aside and thrown away. Turning to her with some confusion, I then remember of how the Crusades ended.

Many left outright. Keira had taken up the mantle of Alor for our clan for some time. And by all rights, She was the still the Alor. Ever since Isley had receded his name to be a Vi'dreya or whoever they were. I looked between the two. While I had left the clan of my own volition, Isley had given me chance after chance to come back. However, each time it seemed I found myself leaving due to disputes.

Turning to the man who would be New within the Clan, who had been given lessons just mere moments earlier, I spoke to him in an earnest voice and one of caution.

"The lass is my Aunt, and now yours. Keira is Isley's Sister by all rights. And what she speaks... I cannot deny."

Keira was... not wrong. But why bring this up now? Why bring the situation here of all places. I shook my head ever so little. Would there have been another time to do this? Not in front of the rest of the new members? Or even in front of those who had joined through ties of the Confederacy? I was not sure. Nor would I ever know as it was the present date. Not the future.

"Bare ba'vodu, Meg cuyir gar sa'lanr?"
 

Ardasz Verd

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From his seat on the supply crates, Ardasz had a front row view of the conflict that threatened to spark between the newcomer and [member="Isley Verd"], and hearing the age old conflict rekindled only made him sigh. He let the woman speak her peace, and when [member="Zephyr Priest"] confirmed his suspicions, he knew her to be [member="Keira Priest"], former Warmaster of the Crusade under their Brother. Who else? Her demeanor at the least had not changed.

"Mando'ade always disagree," he said aside to [member="Haastal Verd"] as he caught the lighter [member="Kaden Farr"] chucked back in his direction about a foot from his face. "Who leads, who follows, who is and who isn't- it's all osik once you really understand the culture. We don't pick and choose who is Mando'ad."

He righted himself and took the several strides necessary to put himself between Keira and Isley. "Udesii, Kir'ika," he said of the only-slightly younger woman. "We're not here to play who is and who isn't Mand'alor. If you had arrived only moments before, you'd have heard him say he's not taking up the title. Our cause isn't to restore a proper ruler," he explained.

"The Confederacy offered land to the self-imposed exiles to afford them a safe place to live their lives after the tyranny of the Undying. Not one of us here owes any particular allegiance to them, and they have asked none of us. We sometimes accept contracts, but in most aspects of life, they leave us alone and we leave them alone."

He pulled the cigarra from his lips and exhaled a plume of smoke. "If you came looking for a fight, this isn't really the right place, or really the time for us to be getting divisive. That's why we always fell apart before, 'lek?"
 

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Ves found that in often volatile situations like this, it was sometimes best to sit back and let it unfold. She was no stranger to it, and she saw plenty of it during her early days as a budding naive warrior of Clan Fett. It was often bemusing watching a civil interaction degenerate into a knife fight; the raven-haired Fett lost count of how many times she saw some unlucky soul gets stabbed to death over a minor occurrence, criminals were greedy creatures driven by base desire and pride who would sell their counterparts for the slightest gain of profit. And unfortunately, it seemed Mandalorians of that ilk had come to infest the higher echelons of the homeworld.

Arms folded and leant against the wall adjacent to the fire, a lazy smile formed across her face as Keira drove into Isley with furore. She respected the warrior for her staunch orthodox ways and no-nonsense attitude to Dar'manda, although she knew as well as anyone else that getting in Keira's way when she was mad was as reckless as hopping into a Rancor pit barehanded.

The Fett departed the relative comfort of the shadows for the centre of the commotion, sauntering over with all the confidence and demeanour of someone who owned the place. She passed a trio settled near the bonfire, a red-headed woman, a curly haired Mandalorian who looked green as grass and a taller man who held an unlit cigarra in his right hand.

Never being one to ask, she casually picked the cigarra from the distracted man's hand while she strolled past the trio. Giving him a cheeky nod of acknowledgement before pulling out her lighter with her left hand. Lighting the cig and inhaling deeply, sending billows of smoke that emanated through the air and mixed with the smoke from the fire.

"Aye, a Mandalorian that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a shortcut to meet it," she interjected in response to Ardaszs words, smirking softly as she took another drag and carried on.

"Is it our way to lie down like lambs and let the wolves at our door take us like craven sheep? we are Mandalorians not beat dogs looking for another master to protect us."

[member="Ardasz Verd"] [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Zephyr Priest"] [member="Haastal Verd"] [member="Haastal Verd"] [member="Keira Priest"] [member="Faust Skirata"] [member="Nya"] [member="Rylan Kordel"] [member="Calixte Diantha"] [member="Roy Americus"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Galaar Fett"] [member="Isley Verd"]
 
Location: Fires

His trek through the surrounding timber came to an abrupt end as he stepped out of the treeline and into the clearing. Flickering light from at least a dozen fires danced across the dull ringmail adorning the priest, the sound of laughter and raised voices assaulting him from all sides. With his helm still tucked under his left arm he proceeded toward the clearing's center, ignoring the glances cast his way. The shekemir be Harangir were not an unknown sect among the Mandalorian peoples, nor were they popular. Mistrust even among his vod wasn't an unfamiliar sensation to Faust.

Most groups elected to simply ignore the gruesome apparition as it sauntered past, and that suited him just fine. He was not here for kinship, after all, but to answer a higher calling. Still, it was around these fires that battle plans would he made, targets selected, and he couldn't in good conscience ignore them. In short order he found himself gravitating toward one group in particular, where voices raised not in boast but in anger plied at him like a siren's call.

His face and hand dripping blood, the furs and leathers adorning his armor still wet from the river, the clanless Mandalorian came to stand at the outer fringes of that group, and found himself staring at [member="Keira Priest"], of all people.

A grim smile bowed his flayed lips at the fire in her voice, an ever present aspect of her personality that he had come to adore. She wore her buy'ce, but he knew from experience that same fire would be burning in her golden eyes, a perfect reflection of the flames they gathered around.

Voices of reason quickly chimed in to temper her anger- bigger fish to fry and all that- and Faust cast a sidelong glance at the closest of them. "Pirusti naritir, Ner vod. Vi enteyor cuyir tome par meg cuyir at olaror." Sulfuric yellow eyes settled on [member="Ardasz Verd"]. "Meg cuyir gar ga?i"

At his side the strill sat on its haunches, watching the proceedings with feigned apathy. Yet its bright eyes never wavered from Keira, and the corded muscles in its thighs and forelegs were taut in expectation. The creature had a protective streak that extended to only two humans in the galaxy, both of whom happened to be standing around the bonfire.
 
A chorus of voices rose in response to her, exactly none of them belonging to the man Keira had come to speak with. The first to speak was also the newest among them, and she couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. “‘Lek, Verd. Isley was my brother once.” She would speak no more of it, not until the man in question was willing to speak for himself instead of these others.Time and place meant nothing when the one you sought out deserved no such courtesies.

Her gaze fell to the one who interjected himself between the feud, another who was, again, family. “A bit difficult to divide a dar’manda from a people he has no claim to.” They could speak sense all they wanted, but none had been there with her to pick up the pieces that first time, and she didn’t expect them to understand.

As another woman spoke she cast her a sideways glance, about to respond before another, far more familiar face joined the ever-expanding crowd. When she spoke to him her voice would soften around the edges just barely, something most weren’t versed enough to pick up on. Faust’ika. Me’vaar ti gar?”

[member="Faust Skirata"] | [member="Ves Fett"] | [member="Ardasz Verd"] | [member="Zephyr Priest"] | [member="Haastal Verd"]
 

Safira Haran

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[member=Calixte Diantha] | [member=Kaden Farr] | [member=Isley Verd] | [member=Hastaal Verd] | [member=Nyx] | [member=Galaar Fett] | [member=Keira Priest] | [member=Roy Americus] | [member=Kaden Farr] | [member=Faust Skirata] | [member=Ves Fett]
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There were very few moments in life that Safi got to simply enjoy, and for a while she assumed the gathering around the fire side would be one of them. But she was proved wrong quickly. As Kaden spoke they were brushed by someone who Safira didn't recognise at all. She had the cheek to casually free him of the burden of his cigarra, which Safira could only snort softly too. Brave and bold, she probably belonged to the group of Mandalorian's that seemed to have made it their business to turn the pleasant evening sour. This alone was indication enough that the party was going quickly downhill.

Yes, she was listening to the words that Kayden spoke, but only with half of her attention. She was more concerned with the dull, croaking tones of someone who was clearly less than happy. Her eyes glanced through the flickering orange flames to land on a woman with pale skin and a bald head. It seemed she was directing her speech toward Isley, and though she had been given no indication that he needed any help, Safira couldn't stop herself. She stood, excusing herself from the company of her fellow companions for a brief moment. There was a fire in her eyes as she wondered over to the larger group of her vod. There was no hesitation in her step as she approached [member=Keira Priest]. The other conversations humming around her didn't matter, there was only one thing on her mind. Her body swayed confidently, and the emotion did not drop as she stood as close as she dared.

She wasn't afraid of her, or a few bruises, so she opened her mouth to speak. 'You must not get invited to many parties and you make a lot of noise for someone who says nothing. But if you're only here to run your big mouth I'd say you've accomplished it. Go and crawl back under the rock you came from.' The sable skinned woman spat the words out with venom in her tone. She had no idea who this woman claimed to be, nor did she care, but she wouldn't allow anyone to dared encroach on the peace she had found on her new home. She didn't care much for the civil war raging between brothers, it seemed beyond stupid. She knew why, of course, but fighting amongst your own people was never a good sign. Despite her serious lack of interest in the personal drama between the two, she'd be dammed if she'd let anyone insult Isley or her family in such a way.

'It's such a shame, this is the first Mandalorian I've met outside our little circle and you're as bright as a black hole and twice as dense. What a disappointment you are.' Safira folded her arms across her chest, not caring who was listening or what drama would occur. Perhaps if they fought it out they could return to the calm, quiet nature that the party had been before this woman arrived. There were a few others she didn't recognise, the likes of [member=Ves Fett] and [member=Faust Skirata] were all but unknown to her, but they were of little matter. She didn't acknowledge anyone else, just the woman. 'I would love to offer you further insult but I'd say mother nature has done a good enough job of it for me.'
 
"Careful what you speak, Newblood. Keira has fought for you to even be here. She kept the clan alive when many left and ran. She may be harsh, and rather dense. No matter how you cut it, Keira has done more for this clan than likely anyone else. If she has any right to speak her mind, she has earned it."

I just shook my head. When those who speak knowing little to nothing of the past, then they will repeat our mistakes. I feared this clan would circle itself in an Echo chamber to do this all over again.

[member="Safira Varad"], [member="Keira Priest"],
 

Old Man Story

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And so, as their collars got heated as those of Mando'ade were wont to do, they escalated until they fought, and they fought until they were bloody. They screamed and hollered until their throats and lungs ached, and then once they had satisfied themselves with chaos and candor, they did what all of their people did best.

Despite their differences, and with all their disagreements still firmly set in stone, they set everything aside and drank. The difference between Mando'ade and everything else was that even the most distant family was still family. You didn't have to like them, nor agree with them, but you did have to tolerate them. You didn't cast them out because they were different, and you didn't persecute them for the circumstances of their birth.

It was why these Mandos had left Mandalore.

And in remembering that, the drinks tasted that much better. Still, they ached for home- and one day, perhaps, they would see it again. Until that day came, the Crusaders had found a place that they could belong once more.

Sol'yc Resa.
 

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