Faction From the Ashes || COV (Open to unaffiliated Mandos seeking purpose)

[Vren Rook]

VETERAN
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Warpriest Prime | Sahan Dragr | Fenn Stag (and Feydrik) | Minerva Fhirdiad | Zavar Kelborn | Rohrkell Vætir | Vara Rasha | Carduul Akahl

IRON COVENANT RISING​

He somewhat surprised about the attention turned to him.

All Vode seemed to be listening. And they agreed - including Minerva Fhirdiad . But most notably was the young man that, not too long ago, held the title of Mand'alor among some of his Vode. At the time, Vren had been too busy fighting the Vong masses on Kestri to pay much attention on how the man led, but given how many chose to add their beskads to the table after him, he must have been at least somewhat worthy.

Yet here he was, no longer holding the title or planet, yet still held some of their loyalty.

This is the man Vren chose to give his attention to. Yes, he still held belief to no longer acknowledge a singular banner, but that didn't mean he would wiothold respect from those that deserved it.

Yet many forces still vie for our downfall, and prey upon disharmony within the ranks." The vantablack Y-visor levelled at the figures standing at the center of it all, regarding with an unknowable expression. "Thus… I must ask for the sake of brevity: were this Covenant to be made, what then are the first moves you intend?"

The old Guildmaster regarded him for a minute. Of all the Mando'ade here tonight, he was the only one to ask a valid question. He held no absolute authority - on the contrary. Yet, if he could convince his kinsmen to this cause, it could be beneficial to all.

"We suffered great losses. In order to get properly mobile and kitted out, we would need some provisions. Ship parts, factory technology, fuel among others." he started, facing the Y-visor straight on. "Of the scouts we could spare, we have pinpointed some areas that we can use. We still hold a solid amount of resources that could be traded for what we need. One of the Enclave's old member worlds used to be Ryloth. Among other resources, it holds a vast amount of Doonium that we can use for starship creation or repairs. I would make a suggestion of trying to make peace and barter with Ryloth for that trade."

He knew it would be controversial. Most would launch a raid and be done with it. Yet, he never agreed to the vehement response Kranak had made against the Twi'leks' slight. He would definitely try the moderate way first.

"After that, I would suggest Rothana - we left a lot of things on that planet after the Maw attack."

 

[Vara Rasha]

Location: Tor Valum
Tags: Yuri Maji | Sahan Dragr | Warpriest Prime | Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag | Kjartan Hammer-Hand
ENGAGING: Kjartan Hammer-Hand
​

You Can't Bring Me Down​

Another punch!

The Harpy caught it with her vambrace. The female pirate’s fist glanced from her forearm. But she proved unrelenting. Before Vara could throw a counter, the pirate turned with a sharp pivot and slammed a shin to the side of her knee.

The youngin buckled. Her nose scrunched. A hyena-like cackle ripped from her throat. Threatening and on edge.

Her eyes widened as the pirate woman’s left fist crackled against her nose! Her gauntlet adorned the foundling with new cuts. The woman felt her own blood seeping down her face as her vision filled in a flash of pain. In the same breath her eyes closed shut on pure instinct to bear it.

Sent reeling away in a daze, it was just the beginning of her troubles.

Her stumble ended as her backplate slammed against the bar counter. The air swooshed as the other pirate woman complimented the other’s work in her attack. A makeshift garotte, fashioned from a beer line, wrapped around her throat. Instinct controlled her. Vara’s boots scraped at the wooden floor as she tried to slip her digits under the line.

Every breath quickly became a fight.

A merciless tug followed, and she found herself wrenched across the counter. The hose clamped tighter. ”HRRNNHG-... HRNNN!” Vara’s eyes widened. The bright lights from the ceiling filled her vision. The dark-skinned and lithe woman pounced, not a second wasted.

A pained yelp tore free from the Harpy as her fist found purchase with her core. More of her breath was stolen from her. The stitches holding a knife wound together tore. A sickening, labored growl rumbled from her throat. In desperation, Vara brought up her knee, to place it between the pirate and herself.

A futile attempt. The pair had her nailed down. The lithe one easily slipped past her pitiful defense.

Another punch, and the sutures audibly snapped. Vara bled through her bandages. The white flannel worn under the armor soaked more blood in the wake of each blow finding purchase.

Darkness crept around the corners of her vision, threatening to overwhelm her. The shouting of a brother, Feydrik Munin rose over the scuffle and reached her ears, only she was yet to register them fully. The woman had no breath to spare for anything else.

And she was not out of the fight yet!

Her eyes frantically sought for deliverance. And it came to her in the form of a bottle. A hand shot towards it. Her long digits just an inch away from wrapping around its neck. Seeing this, the lithe woman pounced.

The move bought her a second.

The pirate clamped around her wrist and slammed it against the counter. The young mutt snarled. Her left hand snapped into a fist, and she swung!

Her head shot away as the youngin’s knuckles crushed against her chin. Her grasp at her wrist relented. Taking the opportunity she just created for herself, she shot her hand towards salvation one more time, just before the woman behind her could drag her away.

The neck of the bottle found her grasp!

With what little strength remained, she swung wide and back. The glass shattered loudly against her skull. The suffocating bite of her improvised garotte disappeared. Breath filled her lungs at an audible gasp. The Harpy sputtered into a coughing fit, her hand at her throat as she slumped down and fell on her knees to the ground.

”W-..” A cough tore free from her chest. ”Whores!” A chuckle followed her pained whimper. She summoned her strength to get back up her feet, but a new wave of pain stole her breath. The steeled toe of the lithe woman’s boot slammed into her gut. The incredible pain engulfed her body as Vara hurled. The young foundling fell to her side, arms folded over her torn gut, the spot the pirate had so expertly targeted.

She held her own against the lithe woman’s onslaught. She twisted beneath the assault, turning each stomp toward reinforced plating instead of her gut. Every breath she could draw was precious.

Then came her riposte.

In a flash, her claws clamped around the boot coming down to stomp at her again. With a twist and tug, she forced her off balance. Her own blood fresh on her mouth, she only saw red. Drunk on violence, the mutt pounced on her after wrenching her across the floor.

Trapping the pirate under her weight, the Harpy's claws rose high.

She was going to tear her to shreds!​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Tags: Vren Rook | Sahan Dragr | Yuri Maji | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar | Vara Rasha | Kamon Hourn | | Warpriest Prime | Feydrik Munin

‘Anointed,’ some said. Several like Feydrik Munin and Rohrkell Vætir stood up, claiming to stand by his torn title. Others sneered in distaste amidst the background, much like Yuri Maji . Familiar faces, many being ones he recognized keenly. Some Crusaders, yet all Mandalorian in heart- brought together coincidentally for this very moment. To even see more walking in like Brent Warnel , who’s awakening he had humbly served as apart of, only added to that feeling of subtle fervor. One that mixed with a sense of constant unease, buried deep in his mind. To see so many sprout from the ashes just to stand with him- it was heartening. For what, he could ask them? Just because he held a once-revered title out of necessity? Even when he had ultimately failed them all, in bringing their goal to fruition? They should despise him for standing behind a cause that ultimately flickered out. Such questions could never leave his lips, for he would not dare to sully the sacred image they had entrusted to him.

After all, the dream of any Mand’alor should be seeing their culture made whole, for however long they can manage to hold on. Though he was a far cry from any Mand’alor of old legends, that had been an aspiration for as long as he was Mandalorian—and he didn’t need any kind of title to fight for that belief. So he had been left quiet as the man responded, a brow couldn't help but be lofted at the first suggestion. He held doubts that any outsider would be willing to forgive a Mandalorian- it was simply how the galaxy seemed to work in that never-ending cycle. “If I recall, Ryloth was also responsible for being an excuse for the now-crumbled Alliance to attack the Enclave.” Came the pointed remark in turn. “Are you sure they would be willing to accept such a thing?”

Yet he heard that echoing approval and promises of beskads and blasters being lent, he believed that this was the correct choice. To support whatever unorthodox action others may propose, seeing as his own efforts had not borne fruit. “...Yet, it seems we have a destination nonetheless.” Was his more succinct answer, relenting upon the matter. “There are still remnants of the raider fleets that were not torn apart by the shifting of the galaxy. Perhaps they may contribute to the Mandalorian cause once again.”

Suddenly, however, a brawl seemingly sparked; some individual being sent hurtling towards him and those around him. Which, of course, was reacted to with a deft sidestep and a passing glance over. Though, from what he heard, none of it seemed to be a serious brawl. Just…fisticuffs. A bit uncouth for his liking, but who was he to judge? Several did so on his behalf, though it more-so seemed like it was adding to it. The sudden question from Warnel caused the helmet to tilt to the side. Before a laugh escaped him; one of pure amusement, and mirth. “I hold no dominion over Kestri. Let them brawl if they so wish; it would seem a lot of them have been itching for at least some kind of outlet for frustrations, would you not agree?”

With the tap of a poleaxe, he had paced around to be on the further end of the bar, so the remnants of the conversation would be held without too much interruption. There would always have to be someone making sure things get done, in the end. “...After all, it has been some time since I’ve seen so many paths collected in a single room. I find that to be quite a heartening sight.”

 

[Tomaj Eldar]

“I’m not clanless... but my clan was forged... to rally to the banner of Khamul Kryze.”

There it was. The door was open, and there was no closing it until what needed to be said was done.

“We were an offshoot, independent enclave of brothers and sisters, with loose ties to Clan Kelborn. But then... my father challenged our chieftain, and he named us ‘Clan Hourn’ before leading us to war. I was a boy then, and as I grew older... it was all I knew. I dreamed of fighting alongside my father, to prove to him that I was the son he wanted me to be.” He paused again, steeling himself as the words continued spilling out.

“I did things... that still haunt me to this day. I still remember the innocent families... the vode I had a hand in killing. I remember when I killed my own father, when I couldn’t keep doing those things anymore, in a vain attempt to save the lives of people who are probably now dead anyway. I ran after that and have wandered... ever since.”

He fell silent, taking a deep sip from his glass. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, ‘steel’ giving way begrudgingly, inch by inch. But he drew breath, steeling himself once more.

“Honestly? I don’t remember what it feels like to have honor.”

Tomaj scratched his chin in thought for a moment. He understood now why the man felt the way he did. That was not something so easy to get past. "And yet you are here."

He looked Kamon Hourn, man to man, as an equal. "What even is honor? It means something different to everyone. Some believe we Kestrians have no honor because we follow the Kyron way and do not recognize a Mand'alor. This is, obviously, foolish. But it shows you just how subjective the concept of honor can be."

He poured the two of them some more alcohol. "And let me tell you, my friend. The fact that you are here right now, that shows you all you need to know. The sheer fact that you crave honor. That you have decided to be true to yourself and not blindly follow orders in which you do not believe. That is honor." The leonid hybrid gave the man a smile. "You will fit in nicely here."

He set his empty glass back down. "Now on the issue of clan..." He drummed his claws on the table. "My words from before remain the same. You are free to be clanless. You may join another clan. You could possibly follow Vasher in rejoining with Kelborn. They were also an offshoot. You could find your own clan. Or."

Tomaj turned back to him again. "You could be a Hourn and wear that name proudly. You could be the example the rest were not. You could be the sole source of honor that keeps that name from fading. The choice is all yours. Either way, you have plenty of time and plenty of friends." He gave Kamon a grin. "So long as you don't go dying on us too early."

 

[Gailen Keldau]

ACKLAY
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yael Kandar

GLASS HEART​

Silence hung between them for a heartbeat.

Then she moved forward, almost giving him time to bolt if he chose to. Yet, a Keldau never ran. Supposedly.

Yet, his body slightly jerked when her hand touched his jaw. He closed his eyes, most of him trying to steel himself while a very small part of him savoured the touch, starved for her love. Then her voice mingled with the sensation as she told him that he was right. Gailen drew a breath before opening his eyes to watch her once more.

"I won't force you to jump through another hoop. I won't ask you to hold a heart I've dropped so many times. If the only way you can heal is to keep me in your past, then that is the silence I have earned. I won't beg for a place in a life I burned down."

The warmth of her closeness lingered for a moment longer before she let the cold intrude again. How the hell was he supposed to move on with his life if she could still affect him like this? The loss of that warmth hurt almost physically.

Gailen cast his eyes skyward for a moment, trying to draw strength from somewhere - Manda knew, he was tired. How the hell do you keep fighting something emotional like this? He'd rather face the Vong all over again - maybe join Kranak in the afterlife.

"Take as long as you need, Gailen. Watch me, from as close or as far as you are able to, watch me face my family's anger and Vren's disappointment. I'm not asking you to watch my back as I leave anymore. I'll be exactly where I should have been years ago."

Gailen sighed, jaw tensing for a moment. His eyes flicked toward Mouse for a moment and he saw the basilisk watching him intently. He was most definitely going to hear it later. But for now, the droid was silent, giving him nothing - no guidance of which way to turn.

He was on his own with this decision and he was exhausted.

"I spent far too much time watching. I am going to be continuing my duties. If you are still here after a month or so, we can maybe meet at that stream again."​