Here We Are

[Vilaz Munin]

SPACE​

THE NE'TRA FLEET​

​

Time had passed since the Red Coronation of Yasha's ascension of the mantle of Sole Ruler which was an illegitimate claim to Vilaz and to all of Clan Munin. Now he would be honest with himself that he would support her if done correctly so, but here he was. A fugitive of the Mandalorian Empire he helped Ra to create as he had broken some laws when Yasha and her minions had broken more than him, and the punishment more major than him.

Her father was right before he left the Empire and resigned as Death of the Cuir Rekr. They had become worse than the Alor'e Council of old, thinking themselves, or more so Yasha, higher than the sons and daughters of Mandalore. Just hungry and greedy for power as the laws of the Empire did not touch her.

It was disgusting for Vilaz. The only word he could describe. His actions were radical and wrong. He allowed himself to swallow up his own pride and acknowledge what he had done was over the line. It had cost the lives of many and brought anger, hatred, and tension amongst one another.

One death that stood out of many was [member="Tamara Wren"], the daughter of [member="Ronan Vizsla"], Alor of Aliit Vizsla. Never had Vilaz lost an offspring or anyone close to him, but he could only imagine.

The Warlord came alone in his personal shuttle to meet with the Chief of Clan Vizsla, and hoping to make some amends. He was dressed in his armor and armed so little. Only his beskad and two blaster pistols he carried, along with a small box made by the finest hands in his clan. Symbols and insignias decorating it with two crushgaunts made by pure Mandalorian Iron from Echoy'la.

It was a proper tradition amongst his people when someone familiar had lost someone. Especially when they were blood and family.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

Tam and him had a talk a week after her resurrection.

Not to let her recover, no, that had never been Ronan's way. But in truth there had been a need to figure things out, to sort and organize, in that time there was little time to talk with Tam about his expectations. Eventually it did come though and it was laid plain. It was time to be the woman he had trained and taught her to be. She could have hobbies, could work on her own things.

But the clan came first and one day she would be Alor.

Not because Ronan said so, but because she would earn the trust of the Clan through her service. When Vilaz stepped out of his shuttle, he was greeted by Ronan and Tamara.

"Alor Munin, your message came as a surprise to me." Vizsla eyed him, the armor, the weapons. "You might understand why I want you to leave your weapons in your ship. Your armor is welcome here."

 

[Tamara Wren]

Tam didn't remember much from before. Oh, she remembered some of it. Enough. But most of it was still a murky blur behind the veil pulled over when she had died. As she was reminded of things, they came back to her, but it was a slow process- it might have been easier, faster, if they had been in their home. If they had been at peace.

But instead they traveled, ship board and vagrant, away from the familiar things that would have so easily brought her memories back by sheer proximity and familiarity.

She knew one thing.

She had never wanted to be Alor of Clan Vizsla.

And she still did not want it.

The young woman stood beside her father, her expression neutral as she watched Vilaz Munin disembark. His appearance coupled with his name sparked no nascent memories, so it seemed likely that they had never had any in depth interactions in the past. Then again, she already knew that there were people she didn't remember that she ought to- where even reminders of them did not spark anything. Memories gone for good? Or simply too shadowed by the nearness of what had happened to yet see clearly? She didn't know.

[member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Impossible.​

​

She was alive.

How?​

​

Vilaz stopped dead in his steps when he saw Ronan's daughter, Tamara, walked out from behind him and stood at his side. The Concordian's eyes widened and the rest of his face looked at Tamara with confusion and...perhaps awe? Or was this some sort of trick? Perhaps this was someone disguised as her with a holographic disguise matrix. Or maybe a clone? He didn't had an answer nor did he know if this was truly [member="Tamara Wren"].

The Warlord looked back at Ronan, trying to dissipate the look on his face and make it a neutral, serious one.

"Of course, Alor Vizsla," Vilaz said to his fellow Alor and stripped himself of his weapons. He didn't feel uncomfortable without them, and he certainly wasn't looking for a fight right now. Besides a warrior, whether a child of Mandalore or not, was supposed to know how fight with whatever weapon was at their disposal; including their body. People such as the trio should know that too well.

Not to mention this was Ronan's house, not Vilaz's and he would follow whatever rules and mandates.

"This is for you, Ronan" he offered the wooden box with its only contents being a pair of crushgaunts, "made by the finest smiths of my clan as to give my condolences for the death of your daughter, but," and looked back at Tamara, "I see she is alive and breathing."

His eyes went back to the man in front of him.

"We need to talk, Ronan."​

​

[member="Tamara Wren"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

His surprise wasn't a surprise to him.

It wasn't the first, wouldn't be the last.

"She is." Vizsla retorted calmly before accepting the offered box. He gave it over to Tam without looking himself. It seemed to be an offering of condolences and in some ways that meant it belonged to Tamara more than that it belonged to him. It was her death that created it, after all. Ronan had never been much for offerings, material or otherwise, but if he'd see the pair of crushgaunts? Even one such as him would be impressed by the craftsmanship.

Munin had chosen well.

Anything other than a weapon or a piece of armor would have earned him only a sneer.

"The Mandalorian Empire has branded you Dar'manda as I hear it. The loyal hound's acts forgotten, wiped away, lost to a costly mistake made through a lack of consideration." How did that make Vilaz feel, Ronan wondered privately.

It couldn't be a nice feeling to be discarded as a broken weapon by those so inferior.

"Come then. We will have this talk of yours." Turning around, waiting for Tam to step in line with him and Ronan would lead them out of the 'bay. They'd travel to his quarters and there... they'd talk, exchange words, do all those little things that Vizsla had avoided doing for years. All those things that he despised and hated, but then... his opponent was one that talked and talked and talked. Words flowing as freely as the waters of Manda, for some reason it seemed to work for her.

Perhaps there could be some strength in words.

If you picked the right ones... at the right time.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Oh, it made him feel angry.

Many years of service, undying loyalty, and he was branded with such term? He could care less of his accomplishments as he didn't brag about them since his name was well enough to let people know the type of caliber he was. And of course many warriors of his kind, his category made some mistakes. Firing a wrist rocket in the throne was his biggest of them all; however, not to be confused for an excuse, there were others that had done worse than him.

Nuking Mandalore's core, fighting for others against your culture, refusing to follow Mand'alor and their word, choosing to be plagued by the Force, and so on and so forth.

Apart from being Mandalorian, they were also living beings and it was impossible, if not unlikely for one to live their life without a mistake.

"The Empire has grown foolish exactly alike to this false Mand'alor. Their words are nothing," he replied back. Both men were in the same boat. Enemies of the Mandalorian Empire, branded dar'manda, and were now in the process of relocating their clans and assets.

The trio walked the vessel's corridors until they reached Ronan's quarters. Like Ronan, Vilaz was also not a man of words. He hated it. A weak trait during his reign as Mand'alor yet a strong one when he was Ra's Akaan. He remembered when Rona slaughtered the Jedi Enclave on Ilum. It was something Vilaz praised for and admired, yet not so much for others like the deceased Monroe and the dislikeable Skiratas. They were thought as radicals, something Vilaz didn't mind at all. He noticed the other clans being too...soft, too pacifistic towards others.

That was not their way. At least it was not his way when being raised.

Now how to start this talk? Certainly not an apology for his actions. What good would that do? Nothing, one must move on and learn from their past.

"We are men of not words, but of action vod. So I'll get to the point. Like you I'm in the process of relocating my clan, but I have plans after I have them safe from any major harm. I plan on destroying the Empire, but I cannot do it by my own."

He knew strategy, and alone it was too much for him and his warriors.

"What are your plans, if I may ask?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

"On that we can agree."

In truth there was scant they could agree on otherwise.

Oh, at the surface level these two figures seemed much alike. Butchers, conquerors, raiders, only caring for the battle and for the blood and iron, but Ronan never had truly seen himself as such. He was a good killer, but it wasn't something he got... enjoyment out of. Grim satisfaction at a job well-done? Certainly. If you had chosen a path it was best to commit to it fully after all.

But there was no glory in war, no honor, no nothing.

Blood, iron, grown men weeping and pissing themselves as they looked at the sharp edge descending. Ronan sat down, gesturing for Vilaz to sit on the opposite side, while Tam would stand at his own shoulder.

"My plans?" Ronan murmured while studying the man opposite of him. "Tell me, Munin. You were all but bonded to the child mand'alor, until your mistake caused her to cut you loose." He leaned on his knees, wondering and mulling things over. "Some might say your only motivation is your own hide, your bruised ego and pride." After all, they had said that of him, but Ronan had been opposed to Yasha from the beginning.

They'd say uglier things of Vilaz.

"Where was your reason, your strength... your action when Yasha piled up praise upon praise on your shoulders and made her first play to the throne?"

 

[Vilaz Munin]

He sat down in front of the other Alor when gestured. The Concordian could feel being studied by Ronan, and it didn't take the Force to notice so. They were both chiefs of their respective clans, commanding many families and tribes that all assimilated into one name whether it be Munin, Vizsla, Ordo, Skirata, Fett, and many more. They were the sword and shield for their clans, but they were also responsible for their lives.

As Ronan spoke, Vilaz began to think carefully what to say next. Lies wouldn't serve him here, nor was he a liar. A liar was a coward, and a Mandalorian was no coward. He was always honest, and blunt with it too. No doubt did people said nasty things about it, but he didn't mind. What did it serve him to think about those that spoke about him?

"I'll be honest with you, Ronan. Before Ra went away with the winds, he had chosen Yasha as one of his Cuir Rekr. I did not expect this from him nor was I amused of someone that young to be trusted with power; however, she did show...promise. People began to follow her and devote their loyalty to her. I thought it would help Mandalore and our people to give her my support, not because of her praises."

"But now I see what she really is...a trickster and everyone has fallen to the curse of her words. Almost everyone."

He was now feeling bored and unamused as he spoke. He was expecting something simpler from Ronan.

"But enough talk of the past, that won't help us here at this moment as we tread the future."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]​