Private Frozen Peaks | Shuklaar

[Darth Metus]

M O N A S T E R Y​

Tag: Shuklaar Kyrdol

The wind Howled.

Monastery was a world treasured by the Southern Systems. In the modern age, it served as the cradle for a beautiful venture meant to foster restoration across the stars: the Sacred Lotus. And, though their mission of Light was brief, the affects were far-reaching. The world became a beacon for those who were lost. A refuge for those who had lost. In all respects, Monastery was a treasure for any soul marred by the Galaxy's troubles. On paper, Darth Metus quite liked the world.

In practice, he hated it.

It was not due to an aversion to the mission or the humanitarian efforts. In fact, Monastery had been the go-to location he routed displaced Alliance souls following their collapse. The reality was totally preferential. For one, the Sith had an extreme aversion to cold. When asked why his face was typically miserable upon wintery worlds, his response was always a curt I'm not build for this.. Secondly, the mighty presence of the Light wreaked havoc upon his...skin. Yes, his skin.

Suffice it to say, while Darth Metus was perfectly fine with Monastery - he only set food upon the world when it was absolutely necessary. This was one of those times.

In recent history, his House had reunited. Stronger together. The Mandalorian concept of Arasuum had crept into their bones following their exodus from Mandalore's society. As a family, they had chosen exile rather than a "cure" for their Force sensitivity. As a family, they watched as Mandalore became twisted, corrupt, and broken under the Death Watch regime. But, as willing exiles, they raised not a hand to the society who first turned their backs. They busied themselves making a new life for themselves in Darth Metus' Confederacy.

But along the way, who they were was temporarily lost. Fortunately, they had found themselves.

Such a return to their roots meant that the Sith began paying greater attention to the ebb and flow of those like him. To those displaced by the Death Watch regime. Thus, the name Breshig first came across his desk. To present day, the organization had been a consistent ally of the Confederacy's efforts. And as Vicelord, this certainly gained the man's approval. What drew Darth Metus to the frozen peaks of Monastery was their heritage - and their quest to start anew.

Today, the Sith arrived - not only as Vicelord, but as the Alor of House Verd.

The meeting had been planned well in advance. And thus, once his shuttle had descended from the cold air, he was promptly met by the men and women of Breshig. Darth Metus was personally flanked by two individuals: an armored member of his Ma'ramikad (Dreadguard) and a Magnadroid. There was no better representation of the man's dualistic presence. Vicelord and Alor, wrapped into one freezing package. In short order, he strode forth to the fortification which would serve as the locale of their meeting.

In that instant, Darth Metus was exceedingly grateful that the shelter was powered - and well-heated.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting, friend." he said, uttering each word in Mando'a.​

 

[Shuklaar Kyrdol]

B e ' b a ' r ​

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Tag: Darth Metus​

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Monastery. It was yaim for the past few months. Mandalorians were supposed to be a nomadic group by necessity. There was a sense of attachment to the world, and the system they called home, however. Monastery was no Breshig, it wasn't his home, but it was home for now. He'd been initially genuinely surprised when the Confederacy let them stay, he knew he'd made a compelling case, but listening to all the talk of people had made him doubt his plan for a moment. He was happy to see that it wasn't the case, that they weren't the shabuire and chaakare much of the galaxy made them out to be.​

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Just as importantly as a home, they'd given him a purpose to fight for. Something that was bigger than just themselves. A place that accepted people fleeing the galaxy's abundance of scum who gave no thought to who they displaced or how. War, war was not his problem. It was his business. Mandalorians grew with conflict, and Breshig War Forge Consolidated and Strill Securities thrived off that. The genocide committed by shabuire like the Bryn'adul, or the Sith Empire...that was not war. There was no honor in it, no growth from the senseless slaughter.​

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That, was the real reason he'd persisted in his initial plan despite what they heard. The man once known as Isley Verd. There wasn't a Mandalorian alive who didn't know who Isley Verd was. Off all the shabuire that came and went from the Mandalore system, as strange and bizarre at times as some of their beliefs and practises were, Shuklaar would be hard pressed to find a man or woman who could find something more bad than good to say of Isley Verd. Whatever he called himself these days, Shuklaar had a feeling that deep down in there somewhere, Isley Verd was still there.​

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The mercenary work would keep them occupied for a while, tide them over as they got back on their feet. It was time however, that they forged bonds with the other clans. Who better than Isley Verd? What was it they called it? House Verd? As far as Shuklaar understood, it wasn't very different to the defensive pact the clans of Breshig enjoyed.​

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His musing was interrupted by an alert on the comms from Nyles, who'd left the Darasuum Morut to join them groundside for the meeting, "Shuttle inbound, alor. CIS transponder codes." That was the Vicelord alright. 'Udesii,' he told himself as he left the quarters he'd taken for the occasion. He was no fan of the cold either, but that didn't mean that the elevation didn't make it a fantastic location for a fortification. Temperature controlled armor and heated interiors certainly helped as well.​

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"Vor'e, Nyles, I'll join you and Aran in the entrance," he said, and indeed before long, he, Aran Netra and Nyles Kote were waiting in the entrance for the Vicelord's arrival. Thanks to the Manda tactical battlenet, he had access to external vid feeds and saw the warm, but formal greeting the personnel outside gave the Vicelord and his entourage. The duality of his protective detail was not lost on Shuklaar either. Part House Verd alor and part Vicelord.​

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Shuklaar, Nyles and Aran all had their helmets off and hanging from their belts when Metus entered. "These are chaotic times, alor, we've all been kept busy," replied Shuklaar in Mando'a as well. Without missing a beat, he stepped forward and extended his hand in a traditional Mandalorian handshake, "Just happy we could finally meet."​

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