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

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Feydrik watched intently, listening tightly to the speeches and observing the goings-on. So far, no brawls occurred. Which was surprising, and welcoming. Despite being a fan of fighting to the point of doing it professionally and for sport, he was not a fan of how these meetings of Mandalorians typically ended in some fools going into a duel after an argument.

Feydrik stood the moment Carduul Akahl entered the tavern. He adjusted his cloak over his shoulder, displaying his open hands. A display that he was unarmed, fealty.

He clasped his hand over his chest, and stood next to his Mand'alor, giving him only a nod. Feydrik was like the Stag boy, he was not one for talking. He was a warrior, through and through- an exemplary model of a Crusader, better or worse. And that included loyalty.

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
SHUKUR KYR'BES TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yuri Maji | Vara Rasha

THEME​

With the exception of when he was in command aboard his flagship; half the time, Kjartan had no idea what was about to come out of his own mouth. He really wasn’t expecting success with this woman - honestly, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting her reaction to be. Where drink was involved, he enjoyed stirring things up and making things a bit more lively, so there was a part of him that thought she would simply laugh it off given the merriment in the room.

Her reaction began that way, but quickly turned.

“I-...” The Harpy hardly reined back her laughter. “I can eat an alphabet soup and chit out a better pick-up line.” Her mockery came in the form of a grin spanning ear to ear, as the woman brought the bottle of tihaar to her lips once again. The warm embrace of alcohol her anchor in this shocking exchange.

Clearly, she had no sense of humor. In the span of a few seconds, she went from a chuckle, to disbelief, to what appeared to be full on rage - all while shifting in her armor like a pup wearing her father’s clothes. It was obvious to Kjartan that she needed to ‘bark louder than whatever bite she had’ by the liquid courage she needed to steel her resolve with.

Her digits returned to wrap around the half full bottle, like vice. “Tell me scughole,” Her muscles drew taught underneath her beskar’gam, black mane bristling high with each word she spat, dripping with venom. “How much of your life, expressed as a percentage, have you spent gesturing to fellow sisters to take their helmets off?”

”Sniff all y’want, mutt, but yer not gettin’ fed tonight.” Her locs snapped lightly as she shook her head. ”Not by me,”

The air was sucked out of those nearby, or at least those who weren’t oblivious to what was happening. The crewmen of the Vod’gam shuffled, with all eyes staring daggers at the woman who just verbally berated their chieftain; several of which flexing their hands and setting down tankards as if preparing to teach this pup a lesson in respect.

For his part, Kjartan’s jovial demeanor faded, though not entirely as a faint smile still rested on his lips. But his eyes betrayed something different altogether - an icy glimmer that indicated what his younger self would do right about now. The fingers upon his free hand flexed and twiddled slightly, his eyes remaining affixed upon hers for several pregnant moments that seemed to last for far longer, as if there was a challenge between them and he was deciding whether to take it on.

But then, the moment was shattered with a wet, boisterous, wheezy laugh filled with uncontained mirth. He slapped his hand on the bar as he tried to speak between laughs, his whole form nearly collapsing inward as the others of his crew also began laughing; rather genuinely, in fact.

After several moments more, he regained enough of his composure to speak again. “Settle... PFFFT... settle down there pup. Force be damned, you... HMM... you have some piss and vinegar in you for a foundling! T’was just a joke.” He wiped tears from his eyes and let out a sigh. “I meant no genuine insult, and no offense but... you’re not really my type. Plus, it looks like you’re already spoken for.”

He gave a wink to the bartender Yuri Maji , then gestured to his crewmen. “My crew can tell you, I always like to rattle cages and test the mettle of those who strike my fancy. Now in truth, an old spacer knows not to say ‘no’ when an amenable port opens its gates. But I’d probably break you in half without even trying!” He almost broke out into a full laugh again, but was able to gain the mastery of himself once more. “...rest assured, I just wanted to get the measure of you, pup. Perhaps I can buy ye’ a drink as a sign of good faith? And if I may offer a word of advice as an old Ruug'la Jag - It’s always better to take things as a joke first, until you have to show someone what you can really do.” Kjartan’s jovial nature remained, but the slight edge present in his eyes previously reemerged anew; as if bespeaking a hidden meaning behind his words. ‘This could have gone really badly if I didn’t think you were joking.’
​

 

[Tomaj Eldar]

The Lion Shaman held up a calming hand to Yuri Maji as the young man made to swat away Kamon Hourn 's hand.

"Do not mind him. He is a volunteer for the position today and merely trying to do his best. He meant no affront," he explained to the man beside him. "And what he says is true. You are a brother. If you need something, never be afraid to speak up."

Kamon met Tomaj’s gaze and nodded fractionally in acknowledgement just before clearing his throat. “Well met. I am Kamon Hourn. You could say I have a clan, but... well I guess it’s also fair to say it’s not really a clan anymore, all things considered.” The corner of his mouth raised slightly in a weak grin. He looked around the room, as if he noticed everyone for the first time. “And yeah, I agree. It's refreshing to see all of them. It’s been a long time since I've been among the Mando’ade. My first time here on Kestri, really. I’m... assuming you’re from around here?” It was a safe assumption considering how the Shaman introduced himself. One could say conversation was not Kamon’s strong suit, but that was the point of doing something you weren’t good at - to get better at it.

Tomaj gave a nod. "It is a sad truth that so many clans have gone that way. Although now and then you see a member of a clan thought extinct come around. There have been many splintering over the millennia. And sometimes one clan turns out not to be the correct fit, and another shall work better. Whether you choose to join another clan, create your own, or remain clanless, you are welcome here. Regardless of whatever past you may have, it is part of you and made you who you are. It has led you here. Just as young Dragr just mentioned. Take those words to heart."

He gave the Kamon a gentle but firm (he had to be careful due to his sheer size) clasp on the shoulder for reassurance.

He glanced over to where Vara Rasha and Kjartan Hammer-Hand were having their... spat. "We even welcome crass children such as those." He gave a hearty laugh. He would step in if it were necessary, but they were not actually younglings at all. They should be able to resolve their own issues and meet each other as vode.

"And yes, I have been with the Enclave for as long as I can remember. My family splintered from Clan Eldar long ago. Of course, if any that may still be out there wish to come join us, they may. And their Alor can challenge for the right to remain Alor over the unified clan. And it would be a glorious occasion!"

Tomaj raised a toast to the idea. "Manda willing."

 

[Rohrkell Vætir]

​

​

| Location | Shukur Kyr'bes Tavern, Kestri​

| Objective | Carve a new legend​

​

<"Darion, you lose yourself in the snow, friend?"> The Mandalorian cackled as he watched his companion Darion of Myrkr that accompanied him from Hoylin finally arrive. He grinned widely, as he gestured to the younger Mandalorian, ushering him to his side. He scooted a plate of roasted meat and a mug of ale, using the back of his hand to wipe his lips. He didn't know much about the younger man outside of the fact that he was the lone survivor of his clan. A shame, but a testament to his will to live and carry on the legacy of his blood; born and bred a fighter as their people were meant to be.​

​

He sucked at his thumb before wiping it off against a rag as his eyes moved from individual to individual, his attention largely focused on Vren Rook who had announced the intent and the purpose of the Iron Covenant. The Vaetir didn't particularly care for most of them, deferring to what the Old Gods dictated he go. So long as the sloth of Arasuum did not cross his path, the man would gladly give his blades to whatever cause was deemed worthy. It was certainly a far more enticing offer than what the pretender who sat on Mandalore offered. He turned to his companion Darion as he spoke, <"What do you make of all this?">​

​

Motion was life, stillness was death - only through the fires of battle could their people tempered to withstand the tests of time.​

​

His attention immediately shifted to the arrival of Carduul Akahl , an eyebrow cocked and raised. Now this was certainly an interesting turn of events. Mand'alor the Anointed, making his presence known once more in the Galaxy would certainly stir some of their warrior caste such as the Neo Crusaders to the banners. Aether Verd had refused to accept the Anointed's challenge, so as far as traditions goes, Akahl still remained the true ruler. And for them to lend themselves to the cause in support only further solidifed the Iron Covenant's purpose and vision to Rohrkell. ​

​

If this was the banner they would raise, the Resolnare decreed it, and he would answer.​

​

<"If the Anointed stands with you, so shall I!"> he said with a gleeful and toothy grin. ​

​

This was the way.​

​

 

[Kamon Hourn]

KAMON HOURN
Shukur Kyr'bes Tavern | KESTRI
TAG: Sahan Dragr | Yuri Maji | Tomaj Eldar | Vren Rook

THEME​

The Lion Shaman held up a calming hand to Yuri Maji Yuri Maji as the young man made to swat away Kamon Hourn Kamon Hourn 's hand.

"Do not mind him. He is a volunteer for the position today and merely trying to do his best. He meant no affront," he explained to the man beside him. "And what he says is true. You are a brother. If you need something, never be afraid to speak up."

Kamon remained calm when the Shistevanen behind the bar all of a sudden started paying attention and did their karking job, and even forgave the attempted slap of his hands. Kamon merely gave him a bemused glance, but otherwise allowed Yuri to serve him the drinks before he went about his conversation.

Tomaj’s words however, were calming enough for Kamon to simply move on without further thought.

The further calming words that followed, took Kamon by surprise.

Tomaj gave a nod. "It is a sad truth that so many clans have gone that way. Although now and then you see a member of a clan thought extinct come around. There have been many splintering over the millennia. And sometimes one clan turns out not to be the correct fit, and another shall work better. Whether you choose to join another clan, create your own, or remain clanless, you are welcome here. Regardless of whatever past you may have, it is part of you and made you who you are. It has led you here. Just as young Dragr just mentioned. Take those words to heart."

He gave the Kamon a gentle but firm (he had to be careful due to his sheer size) clasp on the shoulder for reassurance.

He glanced over to where Vara Rasha Vara Rasha and Kjartan Hammer-Hand Kjartan Hammer-Hand were having their... spat. "We even welcome crass children such as those." He gave a hearty laugh. He would step in if it were necessary, but they were not actually younglings at all. They should be able to resolve their own issues and meet each other as vode.

Silence gripped Kamon, even as the Shaman’s hand rested on his shoulder. He was a man grown now, but in truth he never had a normal childhood. He fled from his clan when he was still young, a few years removed from his rights of passage. Those years were shrouded in war, and he had to grow up fast to survive. When he fled, he had to fend for himself - but he never really had someone he felt he could be vulnerable with.

Yet today, at 38 years of age, he felt himself reverting back to the young man who was forced to run away and make his own path in the galaxy. And standing before him, was a kind soul who genuinely made him feel a sense of... well...

Home.

The remainder of what Tomaj said felt far off and mute - as if spoken behind meters of durasteel. Kamon’s gaze stared through the Shaman, but it was with the Shaman’s final words that Kamon finally came back to reality.

It was then that he started finding the words for what he finally wanted to say; he just never realized it before. “Sorry, I...” He hesitated, the image of a beskar wall starting to crack and reveal what lay behind it. He had been strong for so long, yet he could feel the moment weighing upon him. Now was the time to throw it out there.

He kept on living until now, and he realized that this was the moment - the reason why he kept on living these many years.

“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.”

His head hung, and his shoulders slumped. There he was - a man who was forced to be strong these many years, yet broken all the same.

​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Darion said nothing to Rohrkell's jest. He only smiled a little beneath the helmet. Rohrkell was a cheerful Mandalorian and talked easily. He did not press Darion about his past on their journey, but he was always making jokes about what was happening in the galaxy: Arasuum on Mandalore, Sith in the Core, Jedi on the Rim. Nothing escaped his rough and dark humor.

In this way Rohrkell reminded Darion of his cousin Ketill, who was dead now. Men who spoke so freely were uncommon among his people, as uncommon as the sun on Kestri.

Rohrkell said, "What do you make of all this?"

Darion lifted his chin toward the Mandalorians gathered at the table.

"I do not know yet," he said. "But it is the only place I can go."

Rohrkell grinned then and stepped forward, offering himself to the call that had gone out from the warriors at the center of the tavern.

Darion reached over his shoulder and drew the beskad from its sheath. He walked to the table and spoke as he went, "If my father trusted Careena Fett enough that her name was the last thing he said, and if she trusted this lot enough to send me here, then–"

He stopped at the stone table and said, "You have my sword," and tossed the blade hard upon it.

He stood looking at it while the firelight danced along its silver surface.

Rohrkell Vætir @everyone

 

[Yuri Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
TAGS: Sahan Dragr | Warpriest Prime | Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar | Vara Rasha | Kamon Hourn | Kjartan Hammer-Hand
GEAR: In bio

SONG 2​

The group was loud, boisterous and overbearing in their greeting, and Yuri couldn’t help but want to hop over to enjoy the festivities with them. Kjartan’s shake was firm and Yuri met him in kind with a broad grin. Finally letting go, the Hound turned his attention to their refills as their drinks disappeared in a matter of seconds.

This was going to be an interesting evening.

Yuri was happy, almost overwhelmed by the warm kindness and camaraderie around him. At least until he overheard a story that brought him to a standstill.

“I was about to say ‘You look alot like that dog’, but honestly... after having a few drinks? You look a lot like a leg to me.”

His movements came to a screeching halt, his mind went blank and he was stuck for a second or two in trying to figure out whether to laugh or be angry. ”Wait… what?” His eyes narrowed in confusion, finally able to process the disaster of a pickup line he just witnessed.

Understandably, Vara was just as confused as he was. But what made it worse for Yuri was the fact that the stranger not only continued with his lacking attitude, but proceeded to threaten Vara. Yuri’s eyes narrowed. Coupled with the desire to put Carduul’s head through a window, his distaste for the pirates began to grow at an alarming rate. Walking over to Kjartan and Vara, he ignored the man’s wink and grasped the wrist of his durasteel arm.

“...rest assured, I just wanted to get the measure of you, pup. Perhaps I can buy ye’ a drink as a sign of good faith? And if I may offer a word of advice as an old Ruug'la Jag - It’s always better to take things as a joke first, until you have to show someone what you can really do.”

Yuri’s detached arm swung to the back of Kjartan’s head before swinging it back around to reattach it to his shoulder. In the blink of an eye he launched over the bar counter with a bottle in hand to smash it across the man’s face. ”How’s this joke, chakaar!?” He practically barked at the man in his onslaught.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent arrived later than most. When he walked into the dimly lit room filled with his fellow vod, they were already deep in discussion. He had missed much he knew, but it didn't matter; he was among fellow vod, he knew it. The atmosphere, the vibe, of this area was near enough to what he was used to, to make him feel at ease.

And there, amongst fellow Mandalorians, were two he knew well enough. Feydrik Munin , and his Mandalore, Carduul Akahl . Brent didn't wait to announce himself or let others talk; he pushed through the throng, his huge frame standing next to the Neo-Crusaders he had shed blood with.

On private Neo-Crusader channels, he comm'd to both of them, "Su cuy'gar, vod," Brent said, laying hands on both of their shoulders as the talks continued around them. "Cin vehtin. That's what we need. That and blood, I've been without brothers for too long. Welcome back, Mand'alor, we've missed your guidance."

Brent turned his head and swept his gaze across the room to the others around him, listening to what was being discussed.

 

[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
​

She Moves Like a Knife​

She had struck a nerve.

That much became apparent when the youngin caught the subtle shift from Kjartan’s men. Tankards set down, as several turned, making ready to get up. Their icy glare as sharp as that of the Cin’cirri Mountains’.

And the Harpy revelled in it.

The Foundling faced Kjartan with a smirk. Unapologetic. Bold and daring. She was not a doormat he could walk all over. Her black mane stood on end and teeth barred, she readied herself. Come what may, Kjartan would see the girl stand her ground, seeing her meet his gaze with the sharpness of her own predation. Her glare not once left him.

But then…

His boisterous laughter shattered the tension in an instant. The man nearly folded in half amidst his guffaw. Confusion flickered across her crimson glare as his cackles pierced the room. A puff of breath rolled from her snout at first, before the Harpy couldn’t rein herself back any further, and erupted in laughter along with him. His energy proved to be quite contagious!

“Settle... PFFFT... settle down there pup. Force be damned, you... HMM... you have some piss and vinegar in you for a foundling! T’was just a joke.” He wiped tears from his eyes and let out a sigh. “I meant no genuine insult, and no offense but... you’re not really my type. Plus, it looks like you’re already spoken for.”

Chuckling, the broad shook her head at him. The bottle rose to her lips, as Vara took the opportunity to take another swig of Tihaar. Wordlessly she listened. “Not your type huh?” She let out a rough chuckle through her snout, shaking her head. The bottle sat back down on the counter with a clack. “Y’have a funny way of showin’ that. Makes me wonder the chit you’d say if I were.”

He gave a wink to the bartender Yuri Maji , then gestured to his crewmen. “My crew can tell you, I always like to rattle cages and test the mettle of those who strike my fancy. Now in truth, an old spacer knows not to say ‘no’ when an amenable port opens its gates. But I’d probably break you in half without even trying!”

The Harpy rolled her eyes. "..You'd break your own hip on accident, more like," Her gaze trailed the brief shift in Kjartan’s look. Her glare softened as she now held the golden gaze of her beloved man.

It was rather miraculous Yuri managed to hold himself back for so long, but oooh she saw what was on the horizon as he made his approach towards them. An amused chuckle rolled from her core as she turned her gaze back on Kjartan.

This was gonna be good.

“...rest assured, I just wanted to get the measure of you, pup."

A sharp pull of breath lashed between barred teeth. The fire in her eyes betrayed what little warmth she offered him in her grin. ”Not your pup,” brief and unrepentant, she corrected his choice of words.

The old man almost had her with the offer for a drink, and forgetting the catastrophic entrance he had made with her, but he just had to go and kark that up, too. The foundling stilled at the threat. Veiled under the friendly gesture he offered in his “old man advice”, yet the true meaning utterly unmistakable in his eyes.

But before she could say a thing, her man would beat her to the punch, in the most literal sense of the word.

The distinct click of his durasteel arm drew a larger smile from the girl. In the same breath, her eyes caught the arm – its sharp outlines a little more than a blur as the mutt swung it in full force! Aimed straight at his head! Yuri’s retort stole a chuckle from the Harpy. Excited and unmistakably amused!

And she intended to have a piece of it.

The laughter in her chest curdled into something sharper. Her teeth stayed bared in a grin that showed no warmth at all now. A hunting smile, as her shoulders slightly dipped and her stance looser and lower.

Ready.

”..-Looks like y'gotta show for it now, unc!”

Then, the Harpy moved.

With surprising dexterity, the Foundling swung the heel of her boot at Kjartan’s stomach to get him off balance in the wake of Yuri’s strike. She let the forward momentum carry her up to her feet. In one smooth motion, the girl threw her bottle at the old man’s crew, closest to her. They weren’t just about to watch from the sidelines as their captain fought, and she knew that. With a sharp pivot, she stalked past Kjartan and left him to Yuri.

Speed and aggression retained, the Harpy swiped a tankard off the counter one of them left. The digits of her hand wrapped firm, she swung it full force amidst her cackle, slamming it into the face of one of Kjartan’s men as they hastily moved to get up and fight.

She was in her element, and it showed.

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
SHUKUR KYR'BES TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yuri Maji | Vara Rasha

THEME​

Yuri’s detached arm swung to the back of Kjartan’s head before swinging it back around to reattach it to his shoulder. In the blink of an eye he launched over the bar counter with a bottle in hand to smash it across the man’s face.

The attack took Kjartan completely by surprise, chiefly because the chieftain was focused on the female pup. Yuri’s arm cracked across the back of his head, which caused him to stumble a half-step backward - not terribly staggered, but still enough so to give an opening for Yuri’s follow-up attack. But just as the bartender reattached his arm and reached for the bottle to smash over Kjartan’s head, his second attack would be interrupted by one he likely wouldn’t see coming either.

One of the Hammer-hand’s companions launched an armored fist, aimed just under the jawbone of Yuri. A second companion jumped-slid over the bar and pulled a bottle from the nearby shelf; looking to do what the Shistevanen intended, except crack it against the furball’s skull instead.

”..-Looks like y'gotta show for it now, unc!”

Then, the Harpy moved.

With surprising dexterity, the Foundling swung the heel of her boot at Kjartan’s stomach to get him off balance in the wake of Yuri’s strike. She let the forward momentum carry her up to her feet. In one smooth motion, the girl threw her bottle at the old man’s crew, closest to her. They weren’t just about to watch from the sidelines as their captain fought, and she knew that. With a sharp pivot, she stalked past Kjartan and left him to Yuri.

Speed and aggression retained, the Harpy swiped a tankard off the counter one of them left. The digits of her hand wrapped firm, she swung it full force amidst her cackle, slamming it into the face of one of Kjartan’s men as they hastily moved to get up and fight.

She was in her element, and it showed.

In the seconds this all unfolded, the female tried to get the jump on Kjartan, but in doing so - woefully misjudged what was about to happen. Her kick landed solidly against his center-mass, and did knock the wind out of him. But rather than throwing him further off-balance, he stood firm as a rock. A spacer of his years knew how to keep his balance, and while the opening of the attack threw him on the back-foot - his heels were damn strong. With well practiced, lightning quick reflexes, his massive arms clamped down on her leg to pin it against his form. He locked eyes with her, that mild threat in his eyes giving way to the brute he had thus far hidden behind it. She grabbed the tankard with her well honed muscle memory, swinging it around and crashing it into the head of one of Kjartan’s men just when realization probably settled in about what was about to happen...

She was about to become well acquainted with the Hammer-Hand. With a mighty roar, he pivoted and flung his weight around to bodily throw by the leg this young foundling into a crash-collision with her protector behind the bar. Two others of Kjartan’s men rushed forward to flank them, one throwing a kick at the woman and the other a punch at the bartender’s head.

​

 

[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

His eyes opened halfway as he glanced over his shoulder at her. To his disappointment, the fire was gone from her head, but she was still unmistakably the woman he had fallen in love with.

"Why do we keep doing this?"

His voice was hoarse from the forced silence, yet the wind still carried it.

Yael watched Gailen glance over his shoulder. The exhaustion in his voice, that hoarse why, it hurts more than the biting cold of Kestri ever could.

She froze on her spot, her boots anchored in the deep snow, holding her helmet against her hip like a discarded piece of herself. She didn't have the vocoder to hide behind anymore; her voice was thin, trembling with a mixture of hypothermia and a heavy, crushing honesty.

"Because I’ve tried not to," she admitted, the words barely escaping her lips before the wind tried to snatch them. "I changed my hair. I changed my armor. I changed my name and flew to the edge of the galaxy until I couldn't see Kestri's sun anymore. I tried to be a version of myself that didn't know you, Gailen. I tried to be a woman who didn't remember how it felt to have a home."

She looked down at the snow for a heartbeat, a single tear finally escaping and freezing halfway down her cheek.

"But every time I closed my eyes, the silence on my comms was louder than the engines. I am here in front of you, eating all the shame once again, because no matter how far I run, I'm still the same coward who realizes, too late, that she left her heart in the hands of a man she didn't deserve."

Yael looked back up at him, her eyes searching his; not for forgiveness, but for a sign that he was actually there, and not just another hallucination born of loneliness.

"I'm done with running, Gailen. The galaxy is burning, and if the end is coming, I'd rather face it on a world that remembers my name, even if the person who knows it best can't stand the sight of me."

 

[Gailen Keldau]

ACKLAY
TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yael Kandar

GLASS HEART​

"Because I’ve tried not to,"

Understatement.

It wasn't easy loving a girl that kept running. There comes a time where your heart can't take it anymore and you happen to be the one that walks. Yet, somehow, he was here - in the cold and snow - doing this once again.

She went on to explain how far she had run this time - as if he didn't know. He was always the one that had to stay behind and pick up the pieces of his heart all over again only to do it all over again. He only had the strength of his forebears to thank to keep doing it. But even that strength waned at times - like now.

But then she spoke again.

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.

Then he turned to face her.

Her now-blonde hair whipped in the wind as she looked at him, seeming to search his eyes, her own glassy with unshed tears.

"I'm done with running, Gailen. The galaxy is burning, and if the end is coming, I'd rather face it on a world that remembers my name, even if the person who knows it best can't stand the sight of me."

The Keldau exhaled a sigh through his nose, breath fogging in the cold.
"You don't get it, do you Yael?" he asked softly. "It's not that I can't stand the sight of you. On the contrary. But loving you...I'm tired, Yael. Tired of the same hoops to jump through to keep your heart." He let out another sigh through his nose as he looked away for a second to get his thoughts in order.

"The truth is...I want to just stop fighting this - to just go back to how things were like before. But how long before you take off again? You've broken your promises before. You say now that you are done running, but are you really? How long before you leave me in your dust once again? I can't keep doing that Yael. I love you, but loving you is more like loving the thought of you. The reality - you always find a reason to leave."
Was he really saying that?

He shook his head, as if to shake off that thought.
"It's not only me that you keep in your dust - it's your family too, including Vren. Don't you think he, of all people, has had enough of people that he cares for, walking out of his life time and again? Your selfishness needs to stop, Yael." He swallowed slightly, chewing the inside of his lip for a moment.

"It's not just me that you have to convince that you are done running. I'm the one that saw what your escapades did to your family. You were too busy running from your guilt. I saw Imam getting angrier and angrier at his sister for what she was doing to their father. Words come easy for you - they always have. But actions - that's something else."

He drew in another breath, resting his hands on his hips to continue steeling himself, before exhaling again.

"I never stopped loving you, Yael. I just don't have it in me anymore to watch your back as it leaves again."​

 

[Yael Kandar]

FROM THE ASHES
A Brave New World - Chapter 1

GEAR: in bio
OBJECTIVE: how can you mend a broken heart?
TAG: Gailen Keldau

LOST STARS​

KESTRI

Gailen wasn't just hurt; he was spent. Hearing the name of her brother, Emam, and the mention of Vren’s enduring patience felt like a physical blow; a sharper sting than any frostbite.

Yael stepped forward, her movement slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle the man he broke into a thousand pieces. She closes the gap until the heat from their armor began to mingle in the freezing air. Reaching up, her fingers, numbed by the sub-zero temperature, travelled to his jaw. Her touch was soft, a tentative caress that felt like a ghost of the intimacy they had once shared, but her gaze was unyielding.

"You're right," she whispered, the honesty of it biting and cold. "It was easier to imagine the ghosts I left behind were at peace than to face the fact that I was the one who broke them. I was a thief, Gailen. I stole your peace and my family's respect because I was too weak to carry the weight of staying."

She didn't pull away, her thumb tracing the line of his cheek as a single, frozen tear caught on her eyelashes.

"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."

She let her hand linger for one second longer before slowly letting it drop to her side, the cold rushing back into the space between them.

"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."

Here. With you. With all of them. Carrying and paying for the sins I’ve made in the past.​

 

[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
​

She Moves Like a Knife​

The tankard struck home. The man’s blood misted in the air from his nostrils as his head whipped back and he reeled. Before she could press on, Kjartan caught her. Her leg trapped in Kjartan’s iron grasp, she snapped her glare back at him.

She saw it in his eyes then. The giant woke. The Harpy met his fury with a daring grin, teeth barred. A sharp gasp lashed through her teeth as he pivoted hard. The world blurred. The floor ripped away beneath her boots. She felt the brief rush of air at her mane. A faint gasp tore from her core as her backplate met the floor behind the bar.

The Harpy met the sting of pain with a sharp cackle. The woman rose, just in time, as one of his men vaulted after her and threw a kick. Instinct took over. The kick slammed into her raised vambrace and slid off. Her counter came swift. She rolled and snapped her leg low in one motion, her shinguard crackling into his calf and buckling him. A gasp escaped him as his backplate met the floor.

A pleased snarl tore from her throat.

The Harpy pounced.

Trapped under her, the man moved to defend. The Foundling wasted no time. He met her barrage with his vambraces brought up. After a quick one and two, the girl feigned a punch and struck with the other, weaving her blows past his defenses.

But she knew she couldn’t maul him forever. Not while they were outnumbered.

Swiftly, she rose to her feet. Her glare snapped onto another. He prepared to meet a bottle with the back of Yuri’s skull.

Vara shot like an arrow. A hand clamped around his wrist like a vice before he could strike her man. The other trailed southward to his groin. The Mandalorian’s sharp, pained howl pierced the air as she locked in a merciless Keldabe Handshake. The bottle slipped from his grasp and clattered across the floor. ”..-Gonna RIP your karkin’ balls off!” The young woman snarled as she slammed his back against the counter. Hard.

She shoved. He skidded across the counter and crashed down on the other side. Her palm slammed down. She vaulted over in the same breath. Feet first, her boots slammed into another man’s gut. He reeled back into a table, splintering it. The woman’s boots scraped against the floor as she snapped into a guard, knuckles raised. Her lips peeled back to a carnivore’s grin. ”COME ON YOU SCUGHOLES! I’M RIGHT HEEERE!” The Harpy raised them a challenge.

Her blood sang.

This was where she belonged.​

 

[Yuri Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
TAGS: Sahan Dragr | Warpriest Prime | Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar | Vara Rasha | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Carduul Akahl | Rohrkell Vætir | Darion of Myrkr | Brent Warnel
GEAR: In bio

HORSEPOWER​

The bar, only a few minutes ago, was a spot of reunion and happiness, but the group of rowdy Mandalorians had quickly turned it into a total brawl between the two mutts and the group of pirates. Yuri’s assault on the Hammer-Hand struck home, but any other attempts at attacking the man was halted the moment a fist smashed into the Hound’s muzzle.

With a bloody snarl, Yuri slammed his mechanical palm into the cuirass of his attacker to let loose with a tool he didn’t have a use for until now. The whine of a repulsor split the air with Yuri’s attempt at launching his attacker into the group of Neo Crusaders huddled around their former Mand’alor. He only barely took note of Vara intercepting the bottle meant for his head, his lips curled into a bloody grin at the sheer chaos of it all.

Another punch came at Yuri only to be met with a parry from the Hound while his mechanical hand launched at his attacker’s jaw to knock him back. Sometimes it was useful to have a cybernetic limb. A snarl tore from his maw as he grabbed hold of Kjartan’s man to hurl him at the giant before following to attack the both of them.

”Sahan, get in here!” He practically barked with a maniacal laugh. Anger had given way to a type of euphoria only those gathered in this bar could understand.

The thrill of the fight drove Yuri on to punch, scratch, bite and kick whatever he could get a hold of. From the sound of it, Vara was having the time of her life with two of Kjartan’s men.

Hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched, there was no chance for the two mutts to triumph in this scrap.

Pure bliss.

With a hand reaching to grip Kjartan’s beard for a punch to his face, Yuri was grinning all the way. ”Die silent, chakaar.” He snarled in the wake of his attack.

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
SHUKUR KYR'BES TAVERN | KESTRI
TAG: Yuri Maji | Vara Rasha

THEME​

She saw it in his eyes then. The giant woke. The Harpy met his fury with a daring grin, teeth barred. A sharp gasp lashed through her teeth as he pivoted hard. The world blurred. The floor ripped away beneath her boots. She felt the brief rush of air at her mane. A faint gasp tore from her core as her backplate met the floor behind the bar.

Kjartan had a moment’s respite after heaving the feral woman over the bar, which he used to collect himself if only briefly. He took a moment to survey the scene as it was unfolding, as only a commander of men could in the moments of time he had to spare.

The female was literally biting and scratching over one of his men, but quickly jumped up and viciously assaulted one of his other men... with a very low blow, poor sod. He was one of the few who didn’t wear any armor to speak of, and Kjartan knew he was regretting it.

The bartender was handling himself nicely, demonstrated by some mechanical devilry that launched one of Kjartan’s men through the air and into a group of Neo-Crusaders huddled around, jerking off their chieftain - or close enough to it at any rate. If Kjartan wasn’t already involved in a fight, he would have rolled his eyes and guffawed at their solemn, self-important demeanor. The male Shistevanen then delivered an uppercut to the crewman held in place by the literal balls, which lifted him off his feat and flat on his back, rolling in agony.

The three remaining crewmen, 2 women and one man, closed in on the pair. The first of the women - a dark-skinned, lithe woman with her hair tied up tightly in a bun - launched a viscous haymaker at Vara. The other woman; blond with a similar hairstyle, coiled some hose laying around and attempted to garrotte Vara from behind as her grip loosened on her companions... er, manhood.

The remaining man was closing in on Yuri, but not before the bartender attempted to assault Kjartan again. This time, the pirate was ready for him.

Yuri began by trying to grab Kjartan’s beard, but the pirate quickly kicked his head back and narrowly avoided the grab. He kept his beard shorter than he did in his youth; a lesson learned after an encounter with a particularly forward Askajian barmaid on Tatooine. He couldn’t completely dodge the bartender’s punch though. While the strike wasn’t as dead-center as the assailant intended, it still hit the pirate squarely on the side, where a surface-level cut from the previous strike had formed. The punch opened up the wound, causing blood to seep down the side of Kjartan’s face.

His brow furrowed in pain, but adrenaline caused the sting to fade as quickly as it emerged. Kjartan responded with an unlikely assault of his own. He gripped his tankard and threw its contents directly into Yuri’s face, tossing the drinking vessel to the side as his approaching companion launched a jab punch at Yuri’s side, to the left.

Kjartan then reached down and grabbed one of the barstools. Given his considerable bulk and strength, it looked as if he were simply picking up some plaything or table ornament, but the weight was very real as he heaved it up and over; rocketing toward the Shistevanen’s upper body while he was hopefully distracted by the assault of the crewman.


​

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Vambraces
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol
M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle
M.I. 'Pulsar' jetpack
KestrisaurHide Utility Belt and Duster
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

The scuffle erupted fast—boots scraping stone, laughter edged with challenge. Yuri's voice cut through it, calling him in.


Sahan stayed where he was for a heartbeat longer.


Childish.


That's what it was. Steam blowing off the old way.


He gave a brief glance at Vren.


He flexed his hand.


His pulse had already picked up.


He told himself that was normal.


He didn't remember deciding to move, but he stepped forward anyway.


His fingers found the clasps of his vambraces before he consciously registered the motion. They came free with practiced ease and landed with a dull weight against a nearby crate. The jacket followed—shrugged off and folded once before being set aside.


No beskar.


No tech.


His thumb brushed the edge of his sunglasses. The HUD flickered faintly in his peripheral—predictive arcs, subtle highlights marking trajectories.


He blinked once and shut it down.


The world didn't dull without it.


If anything, it sharpened.


He stepped into the outer ring just as one of Kjartan's men lunged past him toward Yuri. Sahan caught him mid-stride by the back of the collar and redirected him with a twist of the hips. The man hit the ground harder than intended.


Sahan frowned faintly.


They were moving slow.


Not sloppy. Just… slow.


Telegraphed weight shifts. Overcommitted shoulders. He could see the punch before it left the man's body. He sidestepped another charge, let the momentum carry through empty space, then hooked an arm and turned it into a clean throw.


A third came in from the side—


And this one slipped through.


The fist connected square against Sahan's jaw.


There was a sharp crack. His head turned slightly with it.


The attacker grinned—


And then faltered.


Sahan slowly brought his face back forward.


That should've rung harder.


He rolled his jaw once. Nothing loose. No dizziness. No warmth spreading beneath the skin.


Adrenaline, he decided.


He stepped in before the hesitation faded and drove a palm into the man's sternum. The impact folded him and sent him skidding across the stone.


Another strike landed against Sahan's ribs—solid. He felt the pressure of it. The force.


But not the pain.


He blinked once.


He'd feel it later.


Probably.


Two more closed in. Good. That was better.


He shifted his stance deliberately, angling himself so Kjartan's men funneled toward him instead of Yuri or Vara. Not showing off. Just positioning. Just absorbing pressure.


He'd fought worse odds at supersonic speeds in full armor, servos screaming as he crossed distance in a blink. He missed that sometimes—the weight of beskar locking into place, the mechanical certainty of it.


This?


This was just muscle.


Just reflex.


Just him.


They were definitely slow.


Or maybe he was just faster now.


Either way, it didn't matter.


He slipped another swing and drove an elbow into ribs—pulling it at the last second so he didn't cave something in.


If they wanted a distraction—


He'd give them one.

TAGS: OPEN
Yuri Maji Vara Rasha Kjartan Hammer-Hand​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Feydrik leaned forward at the waist slightly, his eyes narrowed behind that vicious helmet of his. His fists curled tight against his thighs, crushgaunts scraping against beskar just briefly. Just briefly.

"Quit fighting, you fools! How dare you!" He said, rage boiling in his blood. He hoped to appeal to their senses, their honor.

"Quit all this nonsense, this foolishness, this bravado-" He took a step forward. "We stand at the brink of destruction, and you all dishonor us with your petty squabbles inside a meeting!" He looked between them all.

"Suffer us no more of your tom foolery! Or so help me, I will hurt you myself!"

He was angry. They dared!

Feydrik was not known for many things, what being an enigma to most practically on a personal level- but his lethality in hand to hand combat was perhaps the only thing about him that was known to most as a certainty. He was, after all, not always a Mandalorian. He'd once been a champion of the Inner and Outer Rim fighting circles. among others. He fought every species practically, and won. He had a registered kicking power of a staggering near 3500 pounds of force- and his punches registered close to 3000 pounds of force generated. He did not wish to fight his fellow Mandalorians, his kin, brothers and sisters.

But he would.

And he would make it hurt.

@the people fighting

​

 

[Yuri Maji]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM
TAGS: Sahan Dragr | Warpriest Prime | Vren Rook | Zavar Kelborn | Minerva Fhirdiad | Fenn Stag | Yael Kandar | Vara Rasha | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Carduul Akahl | Rohrkell Vætir | Darion of Myrkr | Brent Warnel
GEAR: In bio

HORSEPOWER​

From what little he could spare to see, Vara was having the time of her life with Kjartan’s men. One of them grabbed a hose and Yuri would have intervened, but Sahan Dragr seemed to have heard the Hound and jumped in on the fun.

Yuri could focus on his main target, at least that was the line of thinking. His punch landed and another punch was hurled at Kjartan’s gut, but a sudden splash of drink had Yuri involuntarily recoil. The split second of broken eye contact was more than enough for the wind to be driven out of Yuri. Finally a chair collided with him and sent him tumbling over the bar counter.

Any normal person would be out of the fight with a hit like that, even if only temporarily. Unfortunately, Yuri was a normal person. He struggled to his feet and, with a finger raised in pause, lightly shook his head to gather his wits. Vara wasn’t doing too good but at least Sahan was backing her up. Yuri’s golden eyes drifted back to Kjartan and his hands reached for two fresh tankards. In short order, he slid a full tankard of Ne’tra Gal over to Kjartan and began to chug his own in record time.

Once his glass was finished in hopes of Kjartan respecting the truce, Yuri launched his tankard at one of Vara’s attackers and leapt for Kjartan once again.

He vaguely heard someone shouting at the group but he paid them no mind. He was going to put the Hammer-Hand down or, at the very least, make him hurt in the morning. It wasn’t about insulting his woman anymore, he wanted to make the kriffer bleed.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent watched as the fight rolled through the area. He had initially missed it as he was focused on the two other Neo-Crusaders. The cheeriness and welcoming feeling he had when he first arrived changed like an imperfect chord stroke on an instrument. However, it wasn't necessarily a wrong chord; it was a Mandalorian chord.

Still, Brent noticed that everyone wasn't joining in, which meant this wasn't something of a normalcy here; this seemed to be an outlier. Something that most weren't prepared for, or even sanctioned. Feydrik Munin must have thought similar as he echoed Brent's thoughts when he spoke.

"Quit fighting, you fools! How dare you!" He said, rage boiling in his blood. He hoped to appeal to their senses, their honor.

"Quit all this nonsense, this foolishness, this bravado-" He took a step forward. "We stand at the brink of destruction, and you all dishonor us with your petty squabbles inside a meeting!" He looked between them all.

"Suffer us no more of your tom foolery! Or so help me, I will hurt you myself!"

Brent smiled widely as he watched the brawl continue. He continued to smile as he snapped his helmet off his belt and lowered it on his head, the neck seal whining as it pressurized.

"Mand'alor," Brent began as he watched the fight continue, his suit's systems reading green as all his weapon checks ticked off, "Feydrik and I can end this if you wish. It seems...counterproductive at this stage, Alor."

Lethal or non-lethal mattered not to him; whatever Mand'alor commanded he would do.

Carduul Akahl Yuri Maji Kjartan Hammer-Hand Vara Rasha @Everyone