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

[Vren Rook]

The transmission had been sent.

The call had been made. The Enclave was gone, but from its ashes, something new had taken shape and it was time to share it with others.

Kestri stood again, flung far from her original position within the Galaxy, but the codes within the transmission would have been the beacon needed to find her. She was scarred after the Third Vong War for her, but she was ready once more and was welcoming her people home.

The invitation had been simple. Return, if you once belonged and come, if you never did. What awaited was not a banner to kneel before, but a place where a new path could be forged and a new purpose found by those that still wandered.

Come to Kestri to start walking the path of Myth.

Shukur Kyr'bes Tavern, also known as Broken Skull Tavern, had been rebuilt just enough to function, its scars left visible by choice rather than neglect. Come inside, remove the stuffy helmet and drink to remembrance and each other.

But getting sloshed on netra'gal wasn't the only reason people were called to Kestri. Somewhere during the mirth, Vren Rook would call attention to the real reason...

A choice lay before them.

Not to restore what was lost, but to decide whether they would help forge what came next. Would you choose to be part of the Living Myth?

Beneath the tavern, through the fractured arteries of the Industrial Sector, the remains of the Lower Fighting Rings still waited. Once arenas of spectacle, they now stood broken and open to the elements, stone cracked and boundaries blurred from the troubles Kestri and its capital has faced during the Third Vong War of Kestri that had left the Enclave broken.

But these Rings kept their damage for a reason...

Legends wear their scars with pride.

So come test your mettle against each other within the rings in the sparring matches of old. Blades are to be dulled, fists are preferred and leave your blasters and pride at the door. Within the Ring, start forging yourself into something new...

Something that can soon be called Living Legend.​

 

[Brinjarr the Gorger]

Green Savage of Kestri
" Cʀᴜsʜ ᴛʜᴇ Oᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ "

The atmosphere in the colosseum's underbelly was heavy with blood and sweat, while the flickering lights above created sharp shadows on the damp stone walls. Their yellow illumination struggled to penetrate the thick smoke billowing from the gathered crowd. Brinjarr took a slow breath, his wide chest expanding and contracting beneath the worn plates of his armor.

The faint light highlighted the deep scars of past battles etched into the beskar, with each mark telling a quiet tale of resistance. A roar erupted from the arena above, muffled yet thunderous, causing dust to shake loose from the ceiling. Brinjarr stood unfazed. His gaze remained locked on the rusted grate that separated him from the chaos.

The buzz of vibro-blades and the sickening thud of flesh colliding with unyielding metal seeped through the openings. Nearby, a bookmaker shouted odds in a tone more fitting for a slaughterhouse than a sports venue. He flexed his clawed hands, the leather wrappings around his knuckles creaking softly. The sharp, metallic scent of his own adrenaline sliced through the foul odor.

The Savrip blood coursing through him stirred, ancient instincts vibrating just beneath his skin.

Above, the crowd's frenzy hit a new peak; someone's dying scream was swallowed by cheers. Brinjarr shifted the weight of his beskad at his side and moved forward, the ground beneath him shaking with the impact of something substantial hitting the earth. The upcoming match was his.

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Reconnect With Kith & Kin
L O C A T I O N | The Broken Skull
G E A R | Gjallerhorn |

Vren Rook | Brinjarr the Gorger
O P E N​

The call had found her exactly where such things always did.

Not through channels of power or war councils or the endless mess of parchment that plagued her days, but somewhere quieter. Somewhere older. A frequency braided with memory and stubborn hope. Kestri's codes slid past her defenses like they'd never been strangers, and when the message resolved into meaning, Prime did not hesitate.

She answered before the echo faded.

It felt strange, admitting that pull. Stranger still to remember the creature she had been when the Enclave first took her in. Too sharp. Too loud. Too much. A foundling with claws that learned faster how to break than how to build, who struggled with lessons that required patience but excelled whenever the answer involved impact. The elders had called it a phase. The instructors had called it a problem.

The gods, apparently, had called it potential.

They had raised her anyway. Fed her. Corrected her. Yelled at her. Thrown her into the snow and told her to get back up again. They had given her faith before she understood it, discipline before she wanted it, and a people before she thought she deserved one. Her violence became passion. Her passion became craft. Her craft sharpened her into something formidable and terrible and unmistakably Mandalorian.

She had climbed far since then. Too far, some might say.

And yet, when Kestri called, she came home.

The ship touched down smooth as a prayer, landing gear kissing the shipyard without the familiar scream of abused thrusters or a panicked correction at the last second. Dima noticed. Snorted softly to herself. She had crashed a great many ships in her day...

"Huh," she muttered. "Growth."

Winter winds tore across the platform as she disembarked, cloak snapping around her armor like an old friend with bad manners. The cold bit. She welcomed it. Kestri always greeted its children with teeth first. As she made her way toward the settlement, memories crowded in uninvited.

The prank war. The glorious, idiotic rebellion of foundlings denied a 'proper war' and deciding to manufacture one out of glitter, rotten eggs, and sheer spite. The elders had deserved it. Mostly. Watching them scrape neon flecks from beskar seams for months afterward still warmed her hearts.

A grin tugged at her mouth beneath the mask.

"Wonder if the old man still cheats at that card game," she mused, rubbing her chin. "This time I'm counting." A pause. "Wonder if Yuri's still alive too...ain't seen him since the incident." She waved the thought away. "Eh. He's probably fine. He's too fine a man to perish to losing an arm~"

The Broken Skull Tavern loomed ahead, exactly as it always had. Scarred. Loud. Defiant of architectural sense. Dima ducked through the doorway, careful of her horns, and the room froze for half a heartbeat before recognition detonated.

"IS THAT THE SHE-DEVIL OF KESTRI?!"

"No karkin way, lil Dima's back?!"

The sound hit her harder than any blade ever had.

Her vision blurred instantly behind her visor, and she fanned herself with all four arms in a losing battle against emotion. "O-oh sugarsnaps," she choked. "I told myself I wouldn't cry b-but...oh who am I kidding!"

She surged forward, laughter and sobs tangling together as she scooped Mandalorians up like they weighed nothing. One arm, then another, then another, spinning with them, twirling them off their feet as she crushed them into her chest. "I MISSED YOU GUUUUUYS!"

Her attention snapped downward mid-embrace as a roar rose from the pits. Five eyes locked onto the brawl below, where Brinjarr the Gorger was in rare form. Dima leaned over the railing, voice booming with delighted approval.

"Yeah! YEAH! RIP HIS KARKIN HEAD OFF!" She clapped once, hard enough to rattle mugs. "With love! Of course, with love!"

She laughed, girlish and bright, before remembering herself and the Mandalorians still trapped in her grip. Setting them down perhaps a bit too abruptly, she reached up and removed her mask, then her cap, smoothing her hair back like she was suddenly worried about appearances.

Her eyes shone. Not with menace. With home.

"So," she said, glancing around the tavern, taking it all in. "Where's the Beskar Baddies, huh?" A beat, softer now. "And the old man?"

Some things had changed beyond recognition.

Others had simply been waiting for her to come back.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Vambraces
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. 'Pulsar' jetpack
KestrisaurHide Utility Belt and Duster
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

---

A large form crunched through the ice and snow. A nine-meter reptilian biped emerged from the near-perpetual blizzard. A Kestrisaur. Saddled on top of its back, a hairless man wearing a downy leather duster (made from the hide of the same kind of beast) and sunglasses stood out prominently against the cold. Sahan gave the warm-blooded reptile a pat on the side of its head. It snapped at his hand, to which Sahan responded with a solid punch. "Behave." Easier said than done. These creatures technically weren't tameable. That obviously made them perfect for Mandalorians as mounts.

Normally, one entered Tor Valum through the Sundari Memorial Spaceport in Sector 5. Instead, Sahan had decided to test out travelling there on his biological creation, all the way from the Temple of Javarr. It had been an interesting trip. Ciri, his young Ji'yr Rekr companion, had enjoyed it much more than he did. She bounded through the snow as they trekked up the mountain, occasionally howling gleefully.

They stopped halfway up where Sector 2 was. The Ravine. Sahan would use this sector to get down to Midtown in Sector 3. He jumped off the Kestrisaur's back. The beast gave a low growl. Sahan looked up into its eyes, raising his sunglasses so it could look directly into his eyes. He gave his own growl. The beast backed up and turned around, accepting who was the actual predator between them. Sahan let it wander off back into the blizzard. He'd be able to track it later, if he needed.

He gave a whistle. Ciri came up to his side, her tail wagging happily. "Let's go see Uncle Vren and whoever else may have showed up." He was curious to see who all would respond to the summons. His father wouldn't be there. Siv had taken Jericho out on a mission so the two could get to know one another. With both Volo and Suvi dead from the Vong uprising, they three were all that was left of Clan Dragr...

Sahan clutched the glowing blue ironheart he wore on a leather thong around his neck, patted his wolf friend on the head, and headed down towards Midtown. It had been a long while since he had last visited Shukur Kyr'bes. It seemed like a lifetime ago...

---

TAGS: OPEN
Vren Rook​

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

FROM THE ASHES

Blood, Ice, and Steel - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Mingle and Socialize
TAG: Sahan Dragr | Open

Spoiler: THEME

KESTRI

The warmth of the tavern was a physical weight, a thick blanket of heat and the smell of roasting meat that contrasted sharply with the biting frost clinging to Zavar's beskar’gam. Inside, the low roar of conversation and the crackle of a massive central hearth provided the Storyfire the Mandalorians cherished; a place where the cold was held at bay by shared breath and shared history.

Zavar spotted a figure at the bar, amidst the growing crowd of laborers and warriors. The Alor of Clan Kelborn approached with a measured stride, his helmet's HUD filtering out the amber glow of the room. He didn't interrupt immediately, noting the weariness in the man’s posture; the kind of exhaustion that didn't come from moving durasteel, but from carrying the future of a people.

When he reached the bar, Zavar signaled the barkeep for a measure of tihaar before turning his visor toward the other man.

<A moment of peace is a rare thing these days. Especially with the galaxy burning the way it is,> Zavar said, his vocoder modulated to a low, respectful rumble. He unsealed the neck-ring of his helmet, the hiss of equalizing pressure marking his intent to stay a while. He didn't remove the helmet, but he leaned against the bar.

<Zavar Kelborn,> he introduced himself to the man.​

 

[Fenn Stag]

He'd been alone for so long.

He can't remember when he felt the call, the pride in being a Mandalorian. He could not recall when he felt happy. Among friends. Among comrades.

His steps felt heavy. The call had been put out. He was unable to process it- believe it. He clasped his broken helmet, broken during the Kaggath- in his hands. He approached the tavern, standing outside it's doors apprehensively. Fenn knew what was inside. It was warmth. It was kindness. It was brotherhood.

And it was also the future. A choice.

He did not want to be alone anymore. He stepped one foot inside, standing only momentarily in the doorway before making his way inside. He was nervous, that much was obvious. His helmet was cracked across the visor. Bent. Not broken. He looked around, unable to vocalize anything at the moment. Memories came flooding back. Of the Enclave. Of being no more than a child out of his teens, finally finding solace and peace in the galaxy. He was apprehensive- his sins known, his wanderings terrible. Betrayal. Cutthroats. Serving Masters not Mandalorian. Not himself. Whispers of insanity and Sith taint.

The truth was, Fenn was scared of the past as much as he was of the future. But he didn't have to be scared alone anymore.

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

From a distance outside the tavern, Minerva stood alone. Never did she think she would be back here in Kestri. Not after everything that happened. Underneath the helm, she gritted her teeth in old anger. When she had seen Vren Rook's message, she had been tempted to ignore it, yet she came all the same.

As the winter wind howled, Minerva finally sighed. No matter how many years have passed, the pain of her violent separation from the Enclave is still etched in her soul. Assuming anyone here even remembered or cared. If they did and had an issue with her presence, she'd defend herself if necessary.

Stop thinking and do it.

Minerva stepped forward at last and went inside. She didn't greet anyone nor order a drink for herself. Instead, she glanced back and forth at the establishment, noting the crowd was getting bigger. The adopted daughter of Jorel subsequently went over to a spot on a wall and leaned on it. Through the sensory filters, she can smell the food and her stomach ached with new hunger. Shaking her head slightly, Minerva forced herself to focus with arms folded, waiting for Vren Rook to finally show up.

Perhaps I'm being foolish, but I want to see what is going on. To see if they really changed or it's more of the same… She thought in the back of her mind.

 

[Yuri Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
TAGS: OPEN
GEAR: In bio

WHITE NIGHT​

The cold and snow bit hard as Yuri sat outside the Maji residence, one foot resting on the step with the other stretched out. In one hand he held a cigarette fighting hard to stay lit while the other idly traced the lines on Peace’s grip against his thigh. A lot happened in the past few weeks.

His various close calls on jobs, the little moment with Vara on Christophsis, the disaster on Coruscant… the memories of that were still fresh in his mind. If it wasn’t for the help of the stranger he met in the lower levels, he wouldn’t be sitting outside the old house to begin with.

He wouldn’t have been able to return to her.

If that didn’t prove his point, then…

He shook his head, took a drag and crushed the spent bud beneath his boot before getting up. The call was sent out across the galaxy, but for the Hound of Kestri it was a daunting prospect to return to his people. He hadn’t attended a gathering such as this since the Crusade, now he was going to have to face the very people he disappointed and let down in person. ”Ma raised a harpy, not a chicken…” He grumbled to himself, tugging at his winter coat as he wandered toward the tavern.

It was better to get it over with than simply hide away. He would never be able to make things right if he kept running. That time was over. Now it was time to earn his armour…

The Hound twirled and flipped a bottle through the air before catching it to pour out a line of shots. In one smooth motion the bottle was set aside and a tall draught of Ne’tra Gal was poured for another battle brother.

Working as a bartender was a very last minute choice, but the old man desperately needed the help. It at least gave him an easier means to deal with the overwhelming amount of familiar faces. And boy, was there a lot…

Two glasses of Tihaar were set down in front of Sahan Dragr and Zavar Kelborn before Yuri leaned on the counter to grin at the two. ”And ya can’t even say hello, ya schutta.” He quipped, giving Sahan a slap on the shoulder. He adjusted his apron and held a hand out to the unfamiliar man accompanying him. ”Yuri Maji.” He introduced himself to the stranger.

More showed up, each more shocking than the last. He hadn’t seen Warpriest Prime since Onderon and Fenn Stag was even longer before that. As nervous as he was about all of their judgement, it felt good to see his Vode again. One of them, however, was familiar for a different reason. Golden eyes watched Minerva Fhirdiad but he would pass no judgement. Everyone lost their way for a bit, it seemed. But they were home. They were together again.

Now it was just a matter of where the hell Vara Rasha was at.

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Reconnect With Kith & Kin
L O C A T I O N | The Broken Skull
G E A R | Gjallerhorn |

Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Yuri Maji |
O P E N​

Dima's posture shifted the moment she felt it. That subtle pull in the air that only kin recognized. The weight of shared history, old blood, old scars. The riotous preacher-energy she'd been wearing like a cloak drew inward, folding neatly back into her spine as she turned toward the bar.

Then she saw him.

Yuri Maji

Her eyes widened, a flash of genuine surprise cutting through the lacquered confidence. She crossed the lounge in long, deliberate strides, claws ticking softly against polished stone. Not rushing. Never rushing. Just letting herself be seen.

"Yuri baby! You son of a bantha, don't think I don't see you over there!" she cooed, voice rich with warmth as she leaned against the bar. Her gaze flicked to the others gathered nearby, Sahan Dragr and Zavar Kelborn , offering them a respectful nod, chin dipped, acknowledgment given its due.

Yuri barely glanced up as he poured, mouth quirking as he mentioned others not saying hello.

That earned a low, rolling chuckle from Dima as she dragged a claw slowly across the counter, the sound a soft scrape like flint over stone. "Oh you know how the cool kids of Kestri get down, baby. Too cool for school yeah? I'm sure they're just choked up." A playful tilt of her head, tusked smile peeking through. "Overwhelmed by our reunion no doubt~"

She let the joke hang, then turned fully to Yuri, the humor softening into something steadier. Older. Her voice dropped half a register.

"So," she said, eyes searching his face, "How've you lot been? Up to any trouble?" A knowing glint sparked there, ancient and affectionate. "You know I love a good story... and you all were always very talented at being up to no good~"

For a moment, the club's thrum faded. No Sith politics. No darkborn predators circling for advantage. Just old kin, reunited across time and fire, standing at a bar that suddenly felt like neutral ground.

And Dima, Warpriest of gods and ruin, smiling not as a conqueror, but as someone who had missed her people far longer than she'd ever admit. Her five eyes did drift towards a few others however. Namely Minerva Fhirdiad & Fenn Stag as they skulked about in the dark reaches of the Tavern.

The four armed xeno lifted one of her many arms and gestured towards them. "Cousins! Don't be anti-social now, come, have a drink with your kith & kin...gods knows we don't get to have them often~" She offered, not wanting to let them linger and stir in their thoughts too long. Though she was certain they had gone through a lot, and if they wished for solitude there was little she could do to sway them. Still, she'd extend an olive branch for them. As only 'family' could. Even if it was found family~

 

[Vren Rook]

VETERAN
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Warpriest Prime | Sahan Dragr | Fenn Stag | Minerva Fhirdiad | Minerva Fhirdiad | Zavar Kelborn | Open

SOUL OF A MAN​

It was a mild evening for Kestri.

Which meant the snow was drifting down and not a full on blizzard within the ruined city. Vren had sent out the call once they had repaired the necessities and those that had stayed had all agreed on the new path forward.

It was foreign to him as well - the father of a nation that had been with the Enclave since its inception on Roon all those many years ago. He had fallen into such habit with the Enclave that the new path had his breath catching. Of course, as the father of a nation, it was up to him to deliver the news to those that responded to the call.

The scars ran deep - he couldn't fool himself. So many had left and some of them have returned now, responding to the call. They had lost so many people that had stayed loyal - including his old brother...@(†) Kranak Vizsla. That had been one death that had hit Vren particularly hard during this entire Vong war. He'd never been one for soldiering - he had always been a ranger - but he had endured. So few of them had come out on the other side.

Torvan Vizsla has the right of it when he says "Victory doesn't matter if no one comes home."

://: You can't stand out here forever ://: said Nag as she looked down at him a few feet from the tavern. ://: You called them all here, after all. Never knew you to falter, Vren. ://:
"I ain't faltering." he deadpanned at her. But then his face fell slightly and his voice softened. "Is only...I had hoped to see his ship too."
://: He's his own man now. Don't keep doing that to yourself ://: If a war droid's voice could soften as well, this was it for Nag.
"A father will always hope, Girl." he whispered. "Be good out here and don't hesitate to keep the peace out here."
://: Count on it. ://: she answered, collapsing her chassis in front of the tavern.

The old Guildmaster took a deep breath before stepping into the tavern.

The warm air hit his frozen face, relaxing it instantly. And with that, he scanned the room, heart swelling as he did so.
Yuri Maji was helping behind the bar, bless him. He knew the kid had a helluva time lately. Since he had brought Vara Rasha to Vren for mentoring, things seemed to have escalated in the Hound's life - despite their talk that day. He knew the young Maji had his guilt and no amount of talks could fix that - the Shistavanen had to figure it out for himself. Bartending seemed like a good a tactic as any to get back into everyone's good graces.

But the emotions hit Vren as he looked at the rest. To see Fenn Stag and Warpriest Prime back brought another bout of nostalgia to him after running into his goddaughter Yael Kandar . But then his old gaze found Minerva Fhirdiad - it indeed suprised him to see her here, given how she had left and what she had done since. Yet, given how that operation on Tatooine went, she had started redeeming herself. After how she had helped him then, she would at least find one soul that would vouch for her among this band from all over. Of course, there also new armours - like that of the one of Zavar Kelborn .

It also helped that another constant, Sahan Dragr had showed up. The old man drew strength from his brother's kid - Siv had raised the boy right after all.

He took another breath before entering into the light.

"Welcome to all of ya." he started. "Settle in, all of ya, and catch up with everyone. I'll call you all to gather a bit later."

With that, he approached the bar for a whisky. By the gods, he needed it.

 

[Gailen Keldau]

ACKLAY
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yael Kandar

NERVOUS​

He didn't have the energy for this.

It had been a few grueling weeks in the Kestri wilderness hunting the last pockets of Vong. He and the other guys were, quite frankly, tired. Yet, as one of the Alors, he probably had to be present at this shindig of newcomers and returnees. Vren hadn't said anything, but Gail could feel the old man's expectations all the same.

His now-white armour blended well with the snow as he trudged through it towards the tavern with Mouse in tow.
://: You sure you want to be here? ://: the basilisk asked from behind him.
"No, I don't want to be here, but duty calls, buddy." Gailen mumbled, continuing on his trajectory.
://: You haven't slept in days though. ://:
"Yeah, well here we are."
://: I'm at the point where I preferred you drunk, Gail. ://: If droids could sound exasperated, Mouse was it.
"You might get that wish tonight."
All answer he got was a rumbling sigh as they approached the door.

Mouse quietly folded his chassis next to Nag, ignoring Gailen. The droid never thought he'd miss the old Gailen, but ever since getting back from that Mandalore-bound ship, he had been right unpleasant, and the years haven't been kind to his demeanour.

Gailen stepped into the tavern, the snow immediately melting from his white armour. He hardly spared anyone a glance as he just raised two fingers at the barman for his usual tihaar. He then continued on to one of the tables close to the corner where he sat down to look at the rest of room and the catching up everyone was doing. At least he wasn't the only one isolating. A lad he hadn't seen in many years was also keeping to the fringes. Fenn Stag had always been edgy, so no surprise now that he's back.

But the Keldau avoided making contact with anyone for now. He needed alcohol in his system for that.

Mouse would definitely get his wish tonight.​

 

[Brinjarr the Gorger]

Green Savage of Kestri
" Cʀᴜsʜ ᴛʜᴇ Oᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ "

The rusted grate slid back into the ceiling, allowing Brinjarr to step into the blinding brightness of the Kestrian sun. The thunderous cheers of the crowd would have filled any gladiator with pride, yet to him, the clamor was merely a constant irritation that would obstruct his concentration on achieving victory in the arena.

He remained completely still as a fearsome Kintan Crusher appeared from the blood-stained sands. The beast was a hulking mass of brown, leathery muscle, its head jutting forward from a domed chest with no visible neck. Standing on two stocky legs that ended in heavy, two-toed feet, while its massive arms supported its frame quite efficiently.

As it lumbered toward the center of the arena, its horizontal slit of a mouth pulled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth jutting upward from its lower jaw. The Crusher dropped into a quadrupedal run, using its meaty fists to propel itself across the sand with surprising speed.

He planted his feet, gripping his beskad. Just before impact, the beast slammed its fists into the earth. The resulting tremor shook the ground, intended to knock the warrior off-balance, but his Savrip weight kept him rooted. As the Crusher swung a massive, spiked arm, he ducked and drove his blade into the creature's flank.

The steel bit deep, but the beast didn't slow. It spun with a low, basso roar, catching the gladiator in the chest with a backhanded slap that sent him skidding across the dirt. He rolled to his feet, his beskar armor scorched by the friction.

The Crusher was already upon him, its yellow eyes wide with a growing battle frenzy. It abandoned its guard, raining down a barrage of heavy blows. He blocked the first few with his gauntlets, the ringing of steel on bone echoing through the stadium, but the sheer force of the Kintan's strength was starting to dent the plates.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Vambraces
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. 'Pulsar' jetpack
KestrisaurHide Utility Belt and Duster
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

As Sahan and Ciri strolled into the tavern, some heads turned. Anyone who had not been on Kestri since the last Feast of Vormur before the Alliance War would not know the juvenile wolf that accompanied him. Even the ones that did know of her might still be caught off guard at the sight of the normally untamable beast. But Sahan had raised Ciri since was a pup, before her eyes were even open yet.

Sahan stopped in his tracks for a moment halfway across the tavern. He turned and glared at Minerva Fhirdiad . She had some nerve to appear here, from his point of view, after what she had pulled. Still, the Galactic Alliance was no more, so she couldn't be spying for them. Maybe she had come to make amends. And even if she hadn't, Vren could deal with it. He knew her better than Sahan did. He turned away and leaned against the bar, lost in his own thoughts. Ideas of schematics blurred in his mind, distracting him from any rage that might want to surface.

<A moment of peace is a rare thing these days. Especially with the galaxy burning the way it is,> Zavar said, his vocoder modulated to a low, respectful rumble. He unsealed the neck-ring of his helmet, the hiss of equalizing pressure marking his intent to stay a while. He didn't remove the helmet, but he leaned against the bar.

<Zavar Kelborn,> he introduced himself to the man.

"Sahan Dragr, Forgemaster. Kelborn, huh?" He eyed the falcon on the man's armor. "Haven't seen one of you in a while, though Vasher claims they were an offshoot of Kelborn that left just before the clan splintered some eighty years ago or so."

Two glasses of Tihaar were set down in front of Sahan Dragr and Zavar Kelborn before Yuri leaned on the counter to grin at the two. ”And ya can’t even say hello, ya schutta.” He quipped, giving Sahan a slap on the shoulder. He adjusted his apron and held a hand out to the unfamiliar man accompanying him. ”Yuri Maji.” He introduced himself to the stranger.

Sahan turned with surprise to see his Shistavanen friend helping out as a barkeep. "Maji, ya mangey mutt! Sorry, I was a little preoccupied by, uh... potential trouble. How ya been? Staying in control?" He definitely wouldn't ask if the man was staying sober. He just hoped he'd been able to take control of his addictions. "I wouldn't have to say hello if you'd quit running off all the time. Can I get some ice water for Ciri?"

Sahan set the received bowl down in front of Ciri, who began lapping it up. Then she proceeded to happily crunch on the cold ice. He scratched her head as he drank his own drink. "Weak," he sighed. "Got anything stronger? Like really strong. If you think it's too strong, it isn't."

He gave a polite nod to Gailen Keldau as he entered the tavern, but that was all. He could tell the man did not want any company right now. He didn't really blame him at all. Sahan turned back to Yuri. "By the way, have you been out to check in on the old MI factory? Did your ma ever impart any of her expertise to you? I've been cooking up a little project that has to do with Vren's announcement. I'd like to get you in on it."

It was then that Dima ran up to Yuri to greet him. Ciri stared calmly at Dima as she finished her ice. She sensed that Sahan did not see this creature as a threat, so she did not either. She laid down and closed her eyes to rest.

"So," she said, eyes searching his face, "How've you lot been? Up to any trouble?" A knowing glint sparked there, ancient and affectionate. "You know I love a good story... and you all were always very talented at being up to no good~"

Sahan couldn't help but laugh. "Dima, I don't think you have ever spoken truer words. That is indeed his greatest talent among many talents."

"Welcome to all of ya." he started. "Settle in, all of ya, and catch up with everyone. I'll call you all to gather a bit later."

Sahan turned and nodded at Vren. "I'm sure you know Siv couldn't make it." Not that he needed to be. Siv already knew what Vren was going to announce. Sahan himself was mostly just here to represent his clan (what was left of it) and to meet vode. And to step in if anything happened to get too out of hand where Vren couldn't handle it by himself, though that was extremely unlikely.

TAGS: OPEN​

​

​

 

[Rohrkell Vætir]

​

​

| Location | Shukur Kyr'bes Tavern, Kestri​

| Objective | Hunt ​

​

The sole Vætir sat in the corner of the tavern, leaning back as he stretched his worn legs out, kicking them out and resting them top the table. He hadn't been on Kestri in some time, the last being a hunting party chasing after and purging a Vong colony hiding in the Bes'curitr Mines. News of the Iron Covenant's return had piqued the Mandalorian's interest, having made the journey from Hoylin alongside a few members of clan Munin after witnessing the blood duel between Careena Fett and Vilaz Munin. ​

​

Any news of the Mandalorians starting to move was great news, especially to those who respected the Old Ways as Rohrkell did. He grabbed an ivory horn of his own carving, filled with drink, raising it to his lips as he threw his head back and swallowed it in one fell swoop. To feel its taste warm his throat and belly brought a smile to his face. The change of pace was welcome as his eyes wandered the room, observing all the different clans and individuals present. ​

​

<"Perhaps this time,"> he muttered to himself, wondering if the Mandalorians would finally have a cause worth supporting. He pulled his knife from its sheath as he stabbed at a roasted meat that was on the table, teeth tearing through tender flesh as he chortled quietly to himself.​

​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

He'd been away too long.

Lurking, hiding.
​

The Crusader remained seated, a glass of brandy on his table. His helmet lay in front of him, and he eyed his cruel reflection. He was playing a lonesome card game, watching the crowd gather. For the time being, Feydrik was making note of who was here-

And who was not.

He enjoyed watching the merriment of others, and he was introverted. Despite his violence and bloodlust, he was happy to relax among friends. And he found no enemies or weaklings here.

Just vode.

​

 

[Yuri Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
TAGS: Sahan Dragr | Warpriest Prime | Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag
GEAR: In bio

WHITE NIGHT​

The bar got very busy in a matter of moments, less for the drinks and more for the reunion of old friends and comrades. Yuri chuckled at Sahan’s taunts and rummaged for a bowl as he worked on getting the orders out. ”Running’s the only way that forehead of yours can’t reflect the sun in my eyes.” He joked, tossing a bunch of ice cubes into the bowl of water before setting it down for Sahan.

His old friend went on to order something stronger, earning a concerned side eye from Yuri for a moment. He had something in mind to shut the Dragr’s mouth up, but another distraction drew his attention.

"Yuri baby! You son of a bantha, don't think I don't see you over there!"

The Hound shared a laugh with his friends as he leapt over the counter to pull Dima into a tight embrace. ”And here I thought you forgot me, darling.” He greeted her with an arm around her waist to give her a squeeze. ”Come on, lemme get ya something.” He beckoned her to the bar and quickly sorted her out with a drink before turning his attention back to Sahan’s request.

A bottle was brought from the back, unmarked and clear. The moment he unscrewed the cap, alcohol fumes distorted the air for a brief second and even earned a faint cough from Yuri. He poured a bit into a tumbler, dropped some ice cubes in and slid it over to Sahan. ”That’s the degreaser, for the record.” He warned as he set the bottle back.

"You know I love a good story... and you all were always very talented at being up to no good~"

"Dima, I don't think you have ever spoken truer words. That is indeed his greatest talent among many talents."

Yuri shared in the laughter at his expense, holding out his arms in mock offense at their teasing. ”What can I say!? I’m a beast, I’m a dog, I’m a mother-karkin’ problem.” He chanted the lyrics of a song and waved them away. It was good to be back. He nearly forgot what happened and the mistakes he made in the past. There was no venom or disdain directed at anyone.

They were all home, and they were all together with a few new faces as well. It was good.

Even Vren and his old drinking buddy made it to the party. He quickly fixed up a glass of Tevraki whiskey and sent it gliding down the counter at Vren as he approached. With a quick wink and a salute, he turned back to the rest of the crowd.

"By the way, have you been out to check in on the old MI factory? Did your ma ever impart any of her expertise to you? I've been cooking up a little project that has to do with Vren's announcement. I'd like to get you in on it."

”I have!” He quickly answered, setting some dirty glasses aside. ”Been chippin’ away at stuff, but there’s a lot of work to do. Been meanin’ to come talk to you about all that, actually. But we can talk shop later. Let’s just hear what the old man’s gotta say first.” He quickly explained to Sahan, before slinking away to Dima’s side of the counter.

It was a miracle that she could even fit in the bar.

”So, darling, you at least learn to fly yet?” He joked, giving one hand a wiggle of one of her hands. A warm glimmer filled his eyes, watching the old friends go about their business.

He could get used to this…

 

[Vara Rasha]

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

Somewhere I Belong​

…FINALLY!

The mutt’s rage inducing infuriation found instant peace as she secured the last bit of wiring. A sharp, pained hiss tore from her chest as she rose from the ground. An entire lorry load of profanities poured from her mouth as her lips peeled to a grimace.

Pain wracked her body, but the culprit was not the labor itself.

The injuries that scored her hide during the Battle for Coruscant were yet to fully heal. Bruises and cuts kissed her visage. A patch of red stained her white flannel shirt she wore under her armor, bleeding through the bandages that hugged her navel tightly, marking her white flannel shirt.

She’d need to change that dressing…

Years old dust caked all over her beskar’gam, she went to dust herself off and took one last look at her handiwork.

The Ironworks were yet to reach that pinnacle of production it once was. With loads of parts ordered and timetables drawn to get the place back up and running, she knew it was only a matter of time before the forges once again breathed fire.

And she just had ticked off one of the more important tasks she needed to square away! Satisfied with her day of hard work, the woman figured she earned a small reward.

An empty magazine intended for a slugthrower, left unattended for who knows how long, was snatched and given a new purpose. Her boot laden footfalls carried her to the exit as she did away with the magazine’s spring and follower, slipping the baseplate and its retainer back into place.

The intense cold hit her hard as she took a step outside. Her breath misted in the cold air in an instant. Vara pivoted sharply and shut the door after her, and engaged the keypad’s lock. Each merciless blow of the wind sent the Harpy shuddering.

Even with the heat retaining compression clothing she wore under her attire, it just wasn’t enough for this cold.

She really needed to invest into a heat regulator for some basic comfort in this cold.

The woman made a mental note of it, as she went and fished out a joint. The makeshift filter made from cardboard placed between her lips, the mutt lit th its tip with her trusty zippo. The magazine she clutched raised to the cigarette, she used the hollowed out interior of the repurposed equipment to protect her joint from the blowing winds.

The woman took a moment to appreciate the sight around him. As deadly the cold was, the planet and the city was just…

Breathtaking.

The city itself, the crown jewel of Kestri, carved out of the Mt. Valum was host to a handful of sectors, with each sector home to quarters and districts alike. Within the industrial zone’s belly, the woman cast her gaze towards the great skyscrapers reaching for the stars above, but they all paled in comparison to the beauty of the biggest mountain range she had ever laid eyes upon.

The Cin’cirri Mountain Range.

Host to valleys vast and mountains steep, jagged like the teeth of a carnivorous being. Wrapped under the lily-white cloak of a forever winter, draped all the way down to its capes. Older than time. Older than civilization. Monumental failed to describe the colossus. So did any other adjective in Galactic Basic.

One just had to see it with their own eyes.

Begrudgingly, the cold forced Vara to move or risk hypothermia.

Another hefty drag from her smoke, she spoke a silent goodbye to the view and the mountains before the elaborate streets of the city began to replace her view. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as she walked the streets, on her way to Midtown.

She had come so far, in so little time.

Through a combination of luck and sheer determination, her life took one hell of a turn. The likes of which she never foresaw when she took that leap of faith, and left her home. She was no longer a stray getting by with scraps.

She was a foundling. And one day, if Manda willed it and her resolve rang true when the time came for her Verd’goten, she would earn the right to be called a Mandalorian.

She had a future she could look forward to.

A purpose greater than what to eat that night.

…But most importantly, she had him. The keeper of her heart. Her man. Vara’s lips peeled back to a dreamy smile at the thought of it all.

Life could be so random, and so beautiful.

And equally horrifying.

The latter was especially true in her experience; the memories of her first ever battle -a REAL battle- at Coruscant was still fresh. A battlefield the likes of which her peers -other foundlings- could only dream of at their stage of training, let alone become an active participant in it.

And yet she stood. Alive and in one piece, with stories to tell and the scars her proof of her mettle!

It was not the first time she had looked Death in the eye, but by all hells, nothing she had done before compared to that brutality she witnessed.

The brutality she displayed.

The Harpy shook her head hard, banishing the thoughts and emotions yet to be unpacked and processed as the outlines of the ‘Shukur Kyrbes’ caught her gaze. This was the place the old man talked about in his message. Not one to miss an opportunity to meet, socialize and have fun like this, she took it.

He was going to be there too.

The young woman drew one last drag of smoke, the girl slid the repurposed magazine into an empty pouch, and flicked the spent carton bud into the snow before she headed inside.

The sight of so many of her new-found kin and their scents were nearly overwhelming. She hardly knew anyone, except for the old man Vren and Yuri. With a wet-dog shake at the entrance, the shistavanen mutt dusted the snow off her hair and mane. Craving a drink, she offered a simple nod of her head for any kin who turned to offer her a greeting as she made her way through the merry crowd towards the bar.

She wanted nothing more than to get warmed up first.

The girl’s crimson gaze beamed the instant she drew his unique scent amongst so many others. Her ears perked up as her eyes searched for him. The sight of him alone was enough to steal a warm smile from her lips as she drew closer to the handsome bartender. A small whistle blew from her lips to get his attention.

The barstool gently creaked under her as she sat. ”Wassup big dawg?” A pained hiss accompanied her warm chuckle. Arms crossed, she leaned on the bar counter as one last misty breath left her shuddering maw. “What’s a broad like me gotta do to get a drink around here?” The foundling offered him a smirk, sarcasm heavy in her tone. “Tihaar. Neat. Leave the bottle,” Vara clarified. She was going to need it, both for the cold and the pain.

Vara moved, when Yuri came over to serve her the drink. At the opportune moment, she reached for the collar of his apron, and brought him close with a tug. She leaned up and towards him in the same breath, and gave him a quick smooch on the cheek.

A grin split her maw as she let him go afterwards. “How’s the leg, dumbass? You need any help back there?”

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

When gestured at by the five eyed warpriest, Dima she had to fight the urge to sigh. Minerva appreciated the offer but her heart was not into it right now. At Sahar's glare as he arrived she met with it with silent defiance.

If he or anyone else expects remorse from her, then they're wasting their time. She had no intention of apologizing for standing against them years ago. She had trusted them and loved the Enclave until...Kashyyyk. It was shortly before the Alliance war. Her body shook violently at the memory of that wretched day.

The Enclave betrayed her faith in them when they let that clan of child killers called Munin into their ranks. After the latter and other Enclave members attacked Kashyyyk unjustifiably. Hunting her Wookiee friends like animals, with Transdosen marauders no less. She'll never forget the sight of Wookiee corpses scalped for pelts.

It was cruel, it was wrong and Clan Munin was never punished for it.

Just as she was about to hypervent, Minerva stopped herself and finally let herself sigh softly. When Vren appeared, she turned to him. She remembered their reunion on Tatooine some years ago. Only learning that a gang of criminals oppressing the locals had kept her from fighting him and they even allied to eliminate the gang. In the course of their brief alliance she had come to see Vren wasn't a monster and discovered he didn't see her as a dar'manda and understood why she rejected the former Enclave.

Of course he didn't agree with her siding with the Alliance against them for it but still it was more than she had expected. That was the reason why she came here.

Deep down Minerva was tired of killing fellow Mandalorians like what happened in that conflict and preferred to avoid it, unless innocents were willingly targeted again.

When Vren finished, encouraging them all to fellowship, Minerva moved out of her spot. Heading over to Vren Rook, she stopped a few feet from him. Subsequently she took her helmet off and looked him in the eye.

"I hope your Iron Covenant fulfills its purpose Rook. I truly do. Please don't let the vicious cycle that tore us apart repeat itself. Enjoy this celebration."

Having said her piece, Minerva put on her helmet back on, nodding to the growing crowd and was making her way out of the establishment. She imagine they’ll have a great evening. Mandalorians do, one way or another.

 

[Yael Kandar]

FROM THE ASHES

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: how can you mend a broken heart?
TAG: Gailen Keldau

LOST STARS​

KESTRI

The contrast between the biting wind of Kestri's surface to the thick warmth of the tavern was enough to make Yael catch her breath. The air inside was a delicate mix of roasting meat, woodsmoke, and the sharp tang of tihaar; the scent of home, and yet, it felt entirely foreign.

She stood by the doors for a moment longer than necessary, letting the frost melt off her cloak. It had been years. Years of distant stars, cold cockpits, and a silence from her family that she had both sought and dreaded. Returning to Kestri wasn't just a matter of changing coordinates; it was a reckoning with the ghosts she had left behind in the snow.

Yael adjusted the strap of her gear, her eyes scanning the room. The tavern was crowded, a sea of Mandalorians sharing story and nursing drinks. She saw familiar sigils on weathered pauldrons and heard the rhythmic clatter of armor that served as the heartbeat of this place. In the middle, she spotted Vren Rook , her godfather, the person life’s she just tried and failed to take mere weeks ago. The rest of the tavern was a combination of familiar and strange faces. Yuri Maji , Sahan Dragr , Fenn Stag , and Warpriest Prime are amongst the familiar faces she could quickly spot; faces she hoped wouldn’t recognize her figure wrapped under a different shade of blue.

Then, her gaze snagged on a silhouette across the room, alone in the corner.

She didn't need to see the face to know the stance and gesture. Gailen Keldau.

The last time they had stood in the same room, the air had been thick with anger, passion, and bitterness that even the deepest Kestri winter couldn't freeze over, one last time before she had to leave. She thought she could say goodbye, and perhaps keep him updated of her tales, but she was a coward. She had to take off just like she always did.

Seeing him there made the old wounds itch under her armor.

<Tihaar. Strong,> she requested as she reached the bar, her voice sounding raspier to her own ears than she remembered.

As she waited for the drink, she kept her peripheral vision locked on Gailen's position. The tavern was a place of duels of worth and honorable restraint, but between the two of them, the history was a jagged edge that didn't fit neatly into any Mandalorian code. She took a breath, the warmth of the room finally starting to seep into her bones, and waited for the moment his eyes would inevitably find hers, even under the disguise of her t-visor.​

 

[Gailen Keldau]

ACKLAY
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yael Kandar

NERVOUS​

Gailen was nursing the big glass of tihaar when the door slid open once more.

The quick, cool draught battered his exposed face for a second before the doors slid closed again. He glared up at the culprit only to feel his jaw tensing. The armour was wholly different, but he'd recognise that figure anywhere - he'd spent enough nights with it to know. She may fool the rest. but not those that really, really know her.

His nose pulled up as he took a swig of tihaar. It baffled him that she made it past Mouse without getting nuked like the basilisk had promised. Of course, he, himself, had ordered the droid down from doing that. He let out a cynical chuckle - the shit you do when you're in love.

Over the years since their last meeting, he had crafted careful barriers around himself. Had thrown himself wholly into not only protecting himself, but his home and people as well. His father would have probably had some choice words for him now, but the old man was 6 feet under. He was left to his own choices now. But even those carefully crafted barriers couldn't keep the memories at bay - the good and the bad.

How naive he'd been.

He downed the rest of his tihaar and slammed the glass back on the table.
"I can't do this again." he mumbled to himself before getting to his feet, just in time to see the new Foundling planting a smooch on Yuri's cheek. Pain suddenly tugged at his stone heart. The stories this tavern can tell - of the couples it raised. His eyes started glassing. Hopefully the two of them have better luck than he and Yael did.

He shook his head and closed his eyes for a second to clear the glass before marching towards the door, but hesitated before turning to Vren.

"Sorry, but I can't stay."

To his chagrin, though, his voice was louder than it should have been.​