Here's To You

[Karsan Munin]

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Mandalore​

Keldabe City​

The Metalhead Cantina​

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Death Watch won. Peace, or whatever the Mandalorians considered, washed over Mandalore. Karsan had come to fulfill a destiny, a long time hatred. What he ended up with, was a bar full of beaten in faces, and a lot of pissed off peacekeepers outside. He barricaded the door, and they were coming inside. It was hard as all hell to get rid of the Mandalorians inside, and the side of his face was bruised and cut, and swollen nearly to the point where he couldn't see on his left side. Now, he was waiting the inevitable charge from the peacekeepers to come in and whoop his ass to kingdom come, and then take him to some dark cell. Not exactly how he planned his excursion to get his due diligence from the man who would be father, [member="Strider Garon"]. That big ugly bastard cut him out of his life, and sent him on a wayward path. Ever since he got out of prison, Karsan had only one goal on his mind: putting a fist straight through his skull. Now, that dream was in jeopardy, and the reality was that eventually, armored Mandalorians with riot sticks, stun guns, were going to come through the door, and beat him senseless, or shoot him, or worse.

Karsan tapped his head, looking around the bar. Five Mandalorians, only one armored, lay strewn around the bar, one laid across a game machine in the corner. Karsan had picked him up and slammed him into it, enough times to knock him out. His knuckles were bloody, and his heart was pounding. Things were not going well. By birth, he was a Mandalorian, by practice he was a soldier for people the Mandalorians didn't particularly like. But now, the wayward son had royally screwed himself. The chairs and tables by the door weren't going to hold the most notorious meatheads in the galaxy for very long, if only a few more seconds at the very most.

Karsan braced himself for the world of pain, and the subsequent lengthy prison, or hanging he was going to endure. He'd at least go down fighting. Karsan paced around the tavern, fists clenched, among the groaning Mando'ade on the floor.

 

[Silas Mantis]

The was no warning, no threats telling [member="Karsan Calnov"] to come out with his hands up or else, Silas simply acted. When he ripped the door from its hinges with the gleaming prosthetic arm and began beating his way through the barricades was the only indication [member="Strider Garon"]'s most recently appeared offspring would have before Silas Mantis tore into the building.

A table that had been propped up to keep him out splintered as the beskar fist punched through it. Through the haze of dust, he laid eyes on Calnov and took in the sight of five other Mandalorians strewn about. The man was good, that much was evident. The younger of the Mantis brothers brought no weapon to bear, only balled his fists as he stared down the man from behind the 'T' of his visor. The only indication of who Silas' identity was the crimson wolf on his prosthetic shoulder, even the gurlanin hood he usually wore was absent.

Not that Karsan knew or cared what that wolf meant.

No words. Words were nothing but wasted time. Silas surged forwards, striking out with his prosthetic, hoping to slam the fist into the troublemaker's chest with massive force. If all went well it would put the man flat on his back for detainment, maybe even with a few busted ribs. But things oh so rarely went well.

 

[Karsan Munin]

Then, it happened. It happened with little fanfare and with little theatrics, no warning given. Only a swift action by a big, beastly man. He was as tall as Karsan was, by his guess, but he was a lot bigger. Karsan wasn't going to last too long, especially given the fact that he appeared to have a metal arm, and since he was on Mandalore, it was probably a Beskar alloy. So, Karsan wasn't immediately concerned with as much hitting him as he was dodging that punch.

He wasn't going for the face. He was going for a chest shot. This guy meant business, and by business, it was meaning Karsan on the floor. Unfortunately, Silas had telegraphed his move to Karsan. Karsan dropped one leg, rotated his hips, and let his arm shoot past where his torso was. He brought his arm up and went to grab and throw the Mandalorian- punching him would do no good, since the man was wearing armor and Karsan wasn't. This fight wasn't going to be easy, and Karsan knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to an ass-whooping of the royal degree.

No words, just actions. Just how he liked it.

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

Silas had telegraphed, and as he was thrown he gritted his teeth and let out an angry snarl as he recovered. He brought up both fists, the fired off his biological one at Karsan's head, following up without missing a beat the beskar coated prosthetic fired off at the man's stomach. The force was toned back, for once Silas wasn't trying to kill anyone, but it would be enough to knock the wind out of [member="Karsan Calnov"], and in turn let Mantis detain him.

At least that's how he figured it would go. For safe measure he fired off his knee at Calnov's thigh, hoping to leave a decent sized bruise and cause a hefty amount of pain.

The man had familiar features, but he couldn't pinpoint who he bore a resemblance to. He'd come to Mandalore to pick a fight so it seemed, which wasn't the brightest idea. But something about the five Mandalorians knocked out around the bar assured Silas the man was no pushover.

But neither was he.

 

[Karsan Munin]

The first punch towards his head was blocked by simply putting up his forearm. The second, however- going for his stomach, made contact with the man's chest cavity, and sent him tumbling backwards, into a table, making the knee that [member="Silas Mantis"] sent for him pass through the space he had been. Karsan had to admire the man's tenacity and preparation for the worst. Karsan's hopes of making a more effective last stand were dashed as he regained his breath, and rolled his shoulders as he took a combative stance.

He charged at Silas, cutting the amount of time he should've taken to recover in half. He however, had to gain the advantage in the fight again. He lifted his body slightly off the ground, and sent one foot flying forward towards the man's chest. He couldn't produce enough power to do any real damage or cause enough harm with his arms, but kicking him, he could generate enough power to send him backwards, and the kinetic energy would hopefully be enough to at least make him move back.

Karsan then remembered that the man was much bigger than him- and armored. The prospects of Karsan doing any real damage in the fight begin to wane, even in his own mind. He'd come to get some answers from his father, but instead found himself staring an ass kicking, right in the T-shape face.

Here's to you, pain and misery. Old friends- have a drink on me.

 

[Silas Mantis]

He wasn't thinking straight, he wasn't playing smart, he was simply going at it. As [member="Karsan Calnov"] charged, Silas rushed to meet him, only to be caught off guard by the kick. Staggering, he acted on reflex, reaching out for his opponents leg as it drew back from the kick. If the prosthetic managed to wrap around the ankle of his foe, Silas would jerk swing it to the side, effectively attempting to hurl Calnov across the room and into a wall with mechanical strength.

The man was tenacious, a soldier if Silas had ever seen one. Armor or not, Silas had felt that kick, and not in a good way. If he ever stopped barricading himself into bars and laying out locals, the man might make a fine Mandalorian. Maybe he'd offer after he was done putting down the civil disturbance. At any time Silas could've flicked his wrist and brought out the blades under his forearms, but something stayed his hand.

Perhaps he was curious? Perhaps he wanted to see what the man could be? Time would tell.

 

[Karsan Munin]

Left. Right. Left. 40 in my hand, I want to be a drinking man...


He wasn't expecting to be grabbed- and not so much thrown. Karsan was flung across the room, impacting the wall with enough force to put most men down. However, Karsan wasn't most men- but that didn't mean he didn't feel that. He rolled off of the wall, leaving an indention where he impacted. He weakly rose to a stand, and wiped the blood running from his face, and shook his bloodied hands.

He needed to buy some time to recover.

"You get out of my way or I'm gonna hurt you real bad, you hear me?"
[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

Silas scoffed as he rushed forward. "Shut up." He muttered as he descended onto [member="Karsan Calnov"], firing off a punch with his natural arm at the man's head. Everything told him not to talk to the man as he had so often made a point of doing with his other opponents. Was it Preliat who'd gotten onto him about that? Or had it been having his ribs broken by explosives on Sundari? He didn't remember.

Well, he wasn't going to start listening today.

Scooping down he made an attempt to grab Calnov by the neck and pin him up against the wall. "Ready to come quietly? Or would you like to get acquainted with the other wall?" Silas questioned lightly, seemingly aloof the situation at hand. "Just figured you deserved a choice since you gave me one."

 

[Karsan Munin]

The punch he avoided- he was a bit faster than the man- but he couldn't avoid the incoming grapple. Karsan was slammed against the wall, and realized how strong he was and how much the Mandalorian weighed compared to him. Karsan grit his teeth as he was held against the wall.

He opened his mouth to speak, a ruse that he hoped would work. Karsan did the only sensible thing that he could think of in a situation like this-

He sent a knee to Silas' family jewels.

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

The Mandalorian would've said something snarky, but he'd let the pain do the talking. As one of the Liberator's soldiers found out when she tried the same tactic, Mandalorians wore cups, beskar one. He drew the man back off the wall then attempted to slam him through the wall. It was wood, and not that high quality either, not to mention this one was a tough bastard, so Silas suspected it wouldn't kill him.

If the strike had worked, he'd draw [member="Karsan Calnov"] back out of the him-sized hole and with the flick of his free hand, a blade extened from underneath his forearm. Silas would bring it up and press it against the man's throat. "Ready to stop?" He questioned coolly. It'd seem that Silas was still taking the diplomatic approach, but that could easily change in an instant.

 

[Karsan Munin]

So, this was the low point. Karsan was thrown not against the wall, but rather- through it.

He didn't like that all that much, to be honest. Probably a massive bruise, to say the least.

The blade against the throat ended the fight. The man had all the advantages and Karsan had none. He put up his hands, submitting.

"Yeah. All done."

The other patrons groaned.

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

That had been a good call, the smart call. As the patrons grumbled, Silas retracted the blade. "Quit your grumbling, you all let this man best you on his own with no armor or weapons. Pick yourselves up." Silas called out in Mando'a, to which their was a chorus of mumbled curses in reply. From where he lay on the ground, the barkeep who had suffered a broken nose in defense of his establishment, Silas caught a mutter about compensation for the damages. "All will be taken car of vod, your establishment will be fixed soon I am sure." He remarked in the tongue of this world.

For all their savagery, the Mandalorians had a strong sense of community, and even as they nursed their wounds from [member="Karsan Calnov"], were already helping tidy up the havoc they'd helped wreak.

Turning his attention back to Calnov, Silas released the man from his grip. No restraints, no knockout, nothing. He was sure the man knew Silas would kill him where he stood if he tried anything. "Would you care to take a walk? I'm going to need an explanation for all this." He said, speaking in basic now as he referenced the decimated bar with an open hand.

"Don't give me any schutta about this just being some brawl either. You carry yourself like a man with a purpose, you didn't come to Mandalore to get in a bar fight." Silas said, tone firm as he addressed the man. "Impressive work though." He added.

 

[Karsan Munin]

Impressive work- not even close. This was a bar brawl. Karsan had done a lot more in the past few weeks, extending beyond the realm of a petty barfight. They spoke in their guttural language, of which Karsan only knew very little. Karsan rose to his knees, taking a deep, painful breath, before rising to a stand. He looked over the destruction and couldn't help but have a sense of pride over it all.

Karsan rose to a stand, and looked up at the bigger man.

"Why should I tell you anything there, big guy?"

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Karsan Munin]

Impressive work- not even close. This was a bar brawl. Karsan had done a lot more in the past few weeks, extending beyond the realm of a petty barfight. They spoke in their guttural language, of which Karsan only knew very little. Karsan rose to his knees, taking a deep, painful breath, before rising to a stand. He looked over the destruction and couldn't help but have a sense of pride over it all.

Karsan rose to a stand, and looked up at the bigger man.

"Why should I tell you anything there, big guy?"

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

"I can let you get acquainted with the other wall if you'd prefer." Silas remarked nonchalantly, his prosthetic hanging lazily at his side. The man was a hard bastard, that much was clear, Silas just hoped he wasn't going to let his pride get in the way of getting out of being thrown in a cell. "This method also has a better chance of keeping you out of a cell." He added quickly, taking note of another man behind [member="Karsan Calnov"] who was still desperately trying to get back up. Concussion if Silas had to make a guess.

Looking down on the smaller, battered man, Silas wondered if he was going to need to bring out the blade again.

 

[Karsan Munin]

He'd never been in a Mandalorian prison before. It'd be a fun experience- however, that would defeat his purpose for coming here. He instead sneered at [member="Silas Mantis"].

"I'd rather not talk to a stranger about my reasons for coming to this ruined planet. Especially one that threw me through a wall."

He stared hard Silas' visor, and adjusted himself again, looking around at the bar. He had to admire his handiwork, especially on the people inside. Hopefully the rest of the Mandalorians weren't as much of a pushover as most of these guys.

 

[Silas Mantis]

Silas rolled his eyes beneath the visor, frustration building. "You committed a crime. On an planet where people for less. And I am offering you a way out of trouble." He snapped back in annoyance, before relenting and electing to removed the buy'ce from his head. Silas' hard stare met [member="Karsan Calnov"]'s, his face failing to betray the slightest emotion. Silas offered out his hand, the biological one of course, as the prosthetic had the potential to pulverize the bones of most organic's hands if he squeezed too hard. "Perhaps this would be easier if we were not strangers, I am Silas Mantis." He said bluntly, introducing himself.

It was about the most Mandalorian thing he'd done. Gotten into a brutal fight with a man, thrown him through a wall, pulled a blade on him, then offered out his hand to shake. They were a strange lot, but they were warriors, the best in the galaxy, and that was what mattered.

 

[Karsan Munin]

All hail the conquering hero...

"Fine. I'll bite. I'm Karsan. Karsan Calnov. Let's go on your stupid walk."

Not like that name meant anything. His appeared to have weight. Or at least, he presented it like it did. He took the man's non-robot hand, and firmly shook it. Karsan wasn't a Mandalorian- at least, not in practice. In theory, he might've been. Being the son of Strider Garon put him at the table, but he never sat at it. He instead, chose other pursuits. Like becoming a fine operator- to a failing Empire.

Now, he was coming back to knock his father senseless for abandoning him- or never caring. Or never even knowing. He didn't know. He just was angry. And he wanted him to pay.

[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

"Welcome to Mandalore Karsan." Silas said with a nod, relieved the man had complied. Silas' name had once carried weight because of the others who bore it, his brother in particular, but in time he had put value of his own to it. He'd led the charge on Sundari after all, but that moment carried little pride. Seeing his adoptive son grow alongside the niece he'd thought lost brought him pride, standing beside his brother brought him pride, but not what was supposedly the highest honor he'd ever received.

Opening the door he gestured for [member="Karsan Calnov"] to head to the street, and stepped out after him if he did indeed exit the building. "What brings you here? I assume it was not the sights." He inquired. Silas would've been pleased if the man proclaimed a desire to join the Mando'ade, but he doubted that would motivate a man such as Calnov. Within Karsan brewed anger waiting to lash out, it boiled beneath the man's skin, in way all too familiar to Silas, yet all together different.

 

[Karsan Munin]

"Yeah. Hell of a place, isn't it?"

That it was...not. This place sucked. He had no friggin' idea why this place was so beloved. It was dirty, full of drunks, and he wasn't entirely sure how the civil war they recently had made any difference at all. He followed after the big, lumbering brute.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking out to the street.

"Came here to find my jackass father and give him what for."

[member="Silas Mantis"]