Homecoming [ Mando'ade Dominion of Mandalore & Concord Dawn]

[Darth Metus]

M A N D A L O R E​

Home of the Mandalorians​

We Remember.

In truth, the memories yet linger when we close our eyes. Not a soul among us can shake away the sight of fire and the smell of Ash. Our skin yet burns in our sleep. Screams yet fill our ears. The dead, lost beneath the lava flow...yet tug at our very souls. To forget is an impossibility for any Child of Mandalore...and to dream of anything other than coming home is much the same. Impossible. The very thought alone was a driving force. It moved our limbs when grief seeped into our bones. It pushed us to survive. To regroup. To rebuild.

And now, we are coming Home.

Now, the black of space was adorned with the gray of starship hulls. The hush which had fallen over the world would soon be broken. Not only would the roar of engines shatter the silence...but the sounds of joy. The Children of Mandalore are finally coming Home. The sorrow that has blackened our hearts will finally disappear. After months of longing...after months of being lost...it was time to Grace the shifting sands. It was time to reclaim the beating heart of our warrior people.

O B J E C T I V E​

Sandbox - The journey home has been painful and harsh – yet we have overcome. Now is the time to rebuild our broken home and to repair our charred lives. How will you explore your reunion with Manda'yaim? Will you pay respects to the fallen? Rebuild an ancestral home? The choice is yours, explore to your heart's content!​

Spoiler

[member="Aden Dral"], @Agenor Dyre, [member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="Amaya Verd"], [member="Anika Nygaard"], [member="Ardgal Raxis"], @Arioch Cain, [member="Artemis Lux"], [member="Briika Tor"], [member="Butterfly"], [member="Cabur Aranar"], [member="Corvus Detta"], [member="Darth Doom"], [member="Deneve Verd"], [member="Diana Veneris"], [member="Drof'del Tavor"], [member="Isamu Baelor"], [member="Jagen Wren"], [member="James Solaris"], [member="Kad Tor"], [member="Kalyr Alor"], [member="Kaylanna Detta"], [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Lok Munin"], [member="Malok"], [member="Mór-rioghain"], [member="Mesh'la Dral"], [member="Nolan Detta"], [member="Scáthach"], [member="Shia"] LeFett, [member="Strider Garon"], [member="Suravi Teigra"], [member="Titan Verd"], [member="Tyra Gozen"], @Valkyr, [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="The Matador"], [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​THE TOL VAREN'S ARRIVAL:

​"It has been centuries since a Tol Varen clan member stood on Mandalore's soil." That was what the Keeper had told him, he didn't know if it was entirely true. But, the Matador, was the first. He was first true representative of the Tol Varen to observe their true home.

​And, what he saw was unlike anything he could have prepared for. The ash was so thick in the air, it had a distinct physical presence in the air. "This is not how I imagined it." Was all he said, leaving the Valkyrie. He had hoped to return to a rumoured ancestral home, but all he found was rock, and metal and pain. Lava poured deep into the heart of Mandalore. It saddened him, but this wasn't his true home. That was still the Tol Varen village on Duxn, he didn't understand his emotions.

​With the fire burning all around him, his armour left like a slowly cooking prison. However, his discipline had taught him to ignore such things. He had come here to assist in the reclamation of Mandalore, he called upon Clan Tol Varen to serve. A regiment of fifty Might Shield Brethren came with the Matador, to assist in any way they could.

The Matador continued to observe the brutalised landscape, his mind wondered. Pondering on who or what could've done such things. This was a bitter sweet return for the Tol Varen. A return to a home destroyed was no return at all.


​LOCATION: Mando'Ade Landing Site
POSTS: 1

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Aboard the Atonment​

in route to Mandalore​

Allies: Everyone (so far)​

Enemies: None (So far)​

Post: 1/20​

​

"I never thought it would come to this," Prometheus said, his mouth giving voice to the excitement everyone felt. "I mean, like, hot damn man, we are finally going home. Like who would have thought of it?"

Ardgal cinched his sonic gauntlet tight, closing his fist a few times to test it before looking up and smiling, "It was only a matter of time, vod. Only a matter of time."

"I mean like, you know the last time I was here?" Prometheus asked, waving his arms ecstatically.

"When Gray was almost butchered like a Negril weemo for Jack's treachery," Virgil said. Even though Ardgal couldn't see her face, the warrior was sure that on it was an expression of more joy than anger. Her voice, for once, held an almost not-bitter tone. "It will be enjoyable to be back. The Manda'lor made the right call."

"Holy hells," Prometheus fell back against the wall in a mock faint, "You? A complement? Next thing you know, the General is gonna go get him some action!"

"Hey now!" Ardgal stood up, facening his gun belt around his waist, "Let's not get too crazy now."

"Oh, but Rashae is gonna be there," Prometheus gave a wink and a nod as he leaned in closer to Ardgal, "Am I right? Would be a pretty great time to--ya know, celebrate, ifyaknowwhatImean?"

Virgil slapped the back of his head. "He could damn you and send you to hell for that comment--or worse. Get your head out of your ass."

"I will forgiven him--this time," Ardgal said sliding pistols into their holsters ominously, "But only if you tell me what could be worse than eternal damnation."

"Skywalker, woman, you were wearing gauntlets," Prometheus lamented, rubbing the back of his head.

"You promise, my lord?" Virgil asked, Ardgal could almost hear humor in her voice.

"Damn it, Virgil you love me and you know it," Prometheus whined back.

"They do say that delusions are the first sign of death," she gripped her side arm. "Should I put it down now, Sir, or wait until its suffered more?"

"You two are like an old married couple, I swear," Ardgal sighed, clipping his helmet to his belt. His datapad on the ammo locker next to Ardgal chirped with a message. The warrior picked it up and swiftly unlocked it with a C-shaped swipe.

"What is it? Who is it? Is it [member="Rashae"] sending you a pick of her--" Prometheus' question was cut off by a well-timed smack from Virgil, that sent him staggering across the room, "OW, DAMN IT THAT HURT WORSE THE SECOND TIME!"

"Almost that good," Ardgal set the datapad down delicately, "It was the bridge," he took a deep breath, smiling as he looked from Prometheus to Virgil. He had been waiting a long time to say this, "We are home."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

We play a Dirge for Manda'yaim
Not for our loss of her,
but for her great loss of children.

She burns and bleeds,
but our mother is strong.

From ashes and flames she rises,
time and again,
ever stronger than the last.

She laments every generation,
for we are her dream,
and she remembers us long after our last breath.

Manda touches her flesh and blesses her with memory,
but enemies who will never understand turn that gift
into Her living hell.

They ask us why we rage,
why we weep over a single planet.

We only give
what she has given to us
because that is what children ought do for their mother.​

Post 1

"This was a lush field before," one of the old farmers recalled fondly. He ran a hand along the stock of his rifle thoughtfully as they trespassed on solemn ground, charred earth still spewing steam every few steps. "Beviin land it was, owned by a couple who hadn't had any children just yet. They were young, but they wanted a large family."

Alkor examined the volcanic rock between two fingers. "No chance of growing anything here now," he observed. "Not for a good, long while. After we clean the debris away and turn the soil, it might be months before this ground cools down enough to support plant life."

"But the minerals will make the next harvest it does bear all the more bountiful," the older man managed to smile. "Kad reaps and he sows. When he takes, he does so only to give more."

"Out with the old and in with the new, is it?" Alkor asked introspectively. How quaint, it seemed, and yet so realistic. "If more people looked at the galaxy with such brutal optimism, I imagine we would have a great deal more Mandalorians than we do."

"Or Imperials," the other man laughed. Alkor snorted. "The only way they differ from us is that strict adherence to laws and uniformity. There's only six laws in this life that matter, and they don't give a damn about a single one of them."

"Wear the armor," Alkor recalled emphatically as he tugged at the chest plate of his beskar'gam. [member="Keira Ticon"] had hounded him relentlessly about that tenet, and its importance since minutes after Isley had inducted him into Clan Verd. Only after several hard learned life lessons did he finally feel comfortable in his own, iron skin.

Now that his arm had practically become one with the Mandalorian Iron.

"Exactly right," the graying farmer replied. He tapped the earth with a foot, and ashes fell away beneath its sole. "That's what brings us out so far from Keldabe," he revealed. "Many moons ago, attacks that scarred Manda'yaim's surface revealed new lodes of our most precious resource, and our worst kept secret. Was a time when the whole galaxy heard the word beskar and shuddered."

"You aim to put some of the fear back in the aruteii, old man?" Alkor smirked.

Two bright green eyes turned and danced with amusement as he regarded Alkor. "Sonny," he said with a smile, "if we can find even a small lode, we're in business. The Mando'ade have been sunk economically since our last crusade. The beskar business is the one thing we do better than anyone else in the galaxy. Imagine what happens if we strike something even more massive."

Alkor glanced toward Keira and shrugged. "Guess we could start building a real terror of a warmachine, if we did manage that."

The inglorious bastard smiled to himself.

 

[Mishka Larraq]

Location: Larraq Homestead; "near" Bralsin and Keldabe

Mishka Larraq tended the forge as she did most days. This day in particular, she busied herself tidying up the old building. Worn-out areas of floor we're packed in with fresh dirt. Rarely used tool and hard to reach shelves were taken down, dusted, and put back. Oil stains we're cleaned, tools that shouldn't have grease were cleaned, tools that should have grease were greased. Water barrels were replaced with fresh, clean water and the mineral and oil tinged water was taken to be filtered. A thousand little tasks that reminded Mishka that no matter how much the world changed around them, family traditions still stayed the same. Her gaze reflexively found itself rested upon the rusted underbelly of the massive Harvester walker that stood guard over her family's home.

<Almost the same.> Mishka thought to herself as a ghostly echo of memory filtered through the back of her awareness. Her cheeks felt hot and a single cold tear escaped the corner of her eye, but a soft smile was upon her lips. She couldn't be prouder of her brother for the choices he had made and the people he had saved. Herself included.

Her mind found itself drawn back to the here and now. The roll of thunder and thick black clouds overhead were cut by red-orange light and the dull roar of an ion drive as a number of shuttles forced their way through Mandalore's turbulent atmosphere and towards the ruins of Keldabe city.

"Or'atu Aruetii?" Mishka wondered aloud as she stood and stared at the craft as they cut through the sky. It was either that, or more traitor Mando'ade visiting the home they had abandoned.

They could call themselves Mando'ade all day long... But they would never be true Ade Be Manda'yaim. Not in Mishka's eyes. Not after following Mand'alor Munin and abandoning the world that had been the nurturing home of the Mando'ade for centuries on end.

Sighing, Mishka pushed the thought of traitor Mando'ade and Aruetii from her mind. The Larraq family held claim to two hundred acres of Manda'yaim soil. What happened elsewhere on the planet was none of her business unless it posed a risk to her family, or to the sanctity of Manda'yaim herself. Or so she tried to remind herself as she brought the first load of fresh logs from dead trees into the forge.

 

[Rashae]

Post Count: 1

The Padme and the Medical Convoy was not that far behind the Atonement and its fleet. It was generally wise for Medical support to come in behind a fleet or with it. Rashae was on the bridge at the command center with Commander Cantalos, game faces on. This was going to be a heavy recovery effort to say the least. As they came out of hyperdrive the familiar site of Mandalore loomed in the distance as both The Doctor and The Commander started issuing orders at the same time.

Rashae pretty much let Commander Cantalos handle the naval and ship issues. She well knew she had no business in that area. One of her smarter decisions. Consequently she gets detailed reports and the both of them run the medical support convoy seamlessly.

“Run vectors and place us in high orbit. “ Commander Cantalos would command in his patient voice.

“Aye Commander. “ echoed the staff.

“Orbital position acquired geosynchronous high orbit ascending at 90 degrees parallel. “ Said navigation. They were distanced enough from the planet but in a stable orbit out of the way. Hopefully in good position to be able to create a corridor for back and forth.

“Incoming inquiries of our identity, transmitting entry call signs. “ Communications would notify the Padme and its convoy has arrived to provide Medical aid and Humanitarian aid.

The four medical corvettes were separated into teams. Two medical services, two social services was how it was divided. She needed one of each team would go down together in different locations to attempt to divide the work load. One ship can stay grounded to be a clinic and office and one can be available for medevac and to ferry supplies. Her convoy consisted of the following:
Nebulon-B Frigate fitted for medical use only = Padme
Medical corvette one = Martingale
Medical corvette two= Dove
Medical corvette three = Robin
Medical corvette four = Wren
Bulk freighter one = Mule one
Bulk freighter two = Mule two

“Team one is the Martingale and Robin. Team two is the Dove and Wren. Make your final checks on equipment and supplies. Team one will go down with General Raxis, Team two,Standby for landing locations. “ Rashae would provide those orders. She had every intension of being on one of those ships.

She switched to an external channel to broadcast the arrival of the medical support staff. This was transmitted to all Mandalorian leadership. “Miss Ticon, Mister Centaris, Manda’lor: Doctor Rashae Lovous standing by for landing coordinates for two teams. I have a large atmospheric purifier, a small one and a lot of supplies.” Small being a relative term. “Do you have a preferred location that is most in need? “ Her convoy was marked clear as day chrome and/or white with a huge red cross on the hulls. Any of the rest of the clans coming in would see the universal sign of Medical. Rashae tended to be direct with the mandalorians instead of the sugar coated diplomatic responses that some required. While she waited for a response her head turned as she saw the Atonement.

They needed this. They needed their roots, their home. Her eyes turned to the increasing number of ships coming in. They all needed this. It was certainly something to see. The strong family bond that Mandalorians had was enviable. She thought about what they had which was far richer than anything she had.
Once she had gotten coordinates for landing she supplied that for the other team and made way for her team. She sent the General a message with a wicked smile on her face.

–‘hope you feel your ass burning. Hot stuff going to be on your tail. ‘ –

Former republic pilots are a crazy bunch and they can well keep up with the shuttle, gunship or whatever Raxis called the bloody thing. All she knew was that whatever vehicle it was, it would be armed to the teeth. Two medical corvettes would be hot on Ardgal’s tail in tight formation. If Ardgal was armed to the teeth, Rashae was supplied to the teeth.


[member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Ardgal Raxis"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

1/20

Oron sat in the cockpit of a small fighter under the colorless sky of Mandalore, simply looking. The sight of his Mother world gave him a mephitic, suffocating sensation that seemed to have hung over him like the polluting blanket that draped over Nar Shadaa. He'd felt the sentiment since he entered Mandalore's atmosphere. It left his mind in a benumbed haze. Ironside? Although his feelings could have been figments of his imagination it all felt too real to discard so quickly. What was definitely real however, was the destruction left behind by the heavy hand of war. The dwellings of a myriad of Mandalorians had been obliterated. The outlook of the situation left the majority of the galaxy to believe the blow to drive the warriors out of their minds, turn them against each other, or create claustrophobic and harmful tethers among the clans and houses- And yet, here they were. United. Strong.

Hisssss

The small vehicle slid the viewport open and Oron climbed out, booted feet slamming into the soft dead surface below. Ash rose to cover him like confetti as his obsidian and sapphire beskar'gam gained knife gray blemishes all over. His buy'ce turned towards his hand as he lifted it, crimson orbs eyeing the ash landing in his gloved palm.

I never imagined leaving home- He squeezed his hand into a fist, hoping to dissipate the ash, but to his dismay it only smeared. -and coming back to this..

He supposed they'd return eventually, regardless of the current state of the planet. Whether it was under the hue of a ceaseless glow of a newly built metropolis, or nature had been completely stripped away. Regardless, the standing turn of events weren't for a complete loss. A reset button had been pressed- new seeds would be sewn, new establishments created, all of Mandalore's former glory returned and more. But these things would take time.

Oron's inky cloak whipped about in a gusty breeze as he looked around him at what was once a cemetery. Now the entire planet was a grave. Now, nothing remained but dozens of Mandalorians paying their respects in some form or another for those who'd transcended. Kneeling, Oron pulled his buy'ce from his shoulders revealing the face of a man with heavy eyes baring a wicked gaze, mocha skin discolored by practices too addictive to discard, and a head of unkempt shaggy hair. Aunt Verd would be ashamed. He sighed a long suffering sound then set the bucket helm next to him on the ground. Mayhap, he would still himself this day. Harden his heart, as was his oath. In truth, he had no other choice. He lowered his head, closed his eyes-

And prayed.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Aboard the Atonment​

in route to Mandalore​

Allies: Everyone (so far)​

Enemies: None (So far)​

Post: 2/20​

​

Prometheus' face sobered up with wide-eyed amazement, like someone had given him the perfect birthday gift of a life time. Virgil's constant aggressive and closed body language shifted into pure neutral. They never thought they would truly hear these words. It was like a life time of training of them had been washed away at the mention of home.

"Come on," Virgil said after several moments of dumb-founded shock, "We have to land to get there," she turned to leave calling over her shoulders, "I'll land us on those co-ordinates, sir."

Ardgal's datapad chirped once more, he flicked it back open, "Good work Virg."

–‘hope you feel your ass burning.Hot stuff going to be onyour tail. ‘ –

He smirked, quickly typing back,

Spoiler

Oh, so you're going to be on my tail, huh? I hope that's a promise. Virg and Prom got high hopes for us after all this is over. Hate to let them down. Dinner, maybe?

The warrior forward it over to his wrist comm and began walking down the corridor. Flecks of ash kissed the window as the Atonement made a graceful planet fall. Outside was the massive remains of what had been an ocean. The deep cavernous basin was now nothing more than a sallow rockbed layered with sand. What had been there had evaporated in the cataclysmic event that ruined the planet. But, the laws of physics still applied. Water could neither be created nor destroyed and one day the water would return to the ground--and when it did, it would want to trickle into the former basins, Water after all, followed the path of least resistance to the lowest point. RMIA wasn't just here to come home and visit, they were here to make a home as well.

As the clouds of ash parted, Ardgal could see what now loomed as a mountain out of the dry ocean bed, what had once been an island was now what remained of a colony.

"Eyes on Morut, sir" Virgil said over his helmet comm. "It looks pretty bad, sir."

"Land us, then we will begin to decide what looks good or bad," Ardgal said grimly.

As the Atonement touched down, the corvette's dampners gave the last bit of force some of the charred , abandoned homes needed to collapse. Ardgal was the first to set foot on the dried magma. He knew the damage would be bad, but seeing it from this felt like a knife in his guts. The cold settling nature of his cyborg parts was all that kept him aright. This had been a village once, not just any village, but a village of his people. Stores, homes, schools, playgrounds for children were all covered in various degrees of black sludge. A haze of ash was settling once more on it all, everything that could burn already had. Hell had opened up over this place and shook her contents out. The warrior gripped the edge of his loading ramp in pain at the desolation.

"Sir, we are picking up survivors, under the remains," Virgil cut in, "Initial scans are showing some subterranean tunnels that have survived and reach the surface, if we can get to them, they will need aid."

"Prepare a rescue party, we are going in," Ardgal said, "We will save them."

He flicked some of the settling dust off his wrist comm and quickly tapped out a second message to [member="Rashae"],

Spoiler

Looking at a rescue op, if you got time to spare, probably going to need some medical expertise.

 

[Nolan Detta]

1

Mandalore, home, where he lost everything, twice. First his family, then his home. But from the pain and suffering he gained so much more. He married Satine, had two children, made brothers and sisters in arms that he'd trade his last breath for. He'd made his life dealing Death and suffering for it at every turn. Now the Mando'ade were returning home. The planet was mostly a wasteland, but it was salvageable. Keldabe was ruined, but being rebuilt as the Vod returned.

He brought his wife and children here this day to give his home one last piece of himself. Onboard his family's shuttle, Nolan stood in front of his Beskar'gam laid out on the table. So many scorch marks and dent s and scratches. Where his fatal wound had been dealt was a fresh plate installed over the ribcage. The Beskar had been his friend on so many fronts and so many times had it saved him when he should have died.

Nolan began the slow process of placing the armor piece by piece. Each scar stretched as he moved his body to place each piece in its home. His cybernetics were stiff this morning, he'd not been taking his medication to ease the healing process. The edges of his prosthetics ached and itches. He ignored the inconvenience and finished his legs. Pausing a moment to take in the gravity of his decision, he'd spoken little with Satine about it, but he was certain she'd understand and most likely support it. He was gone far too often, and he'd like to be with his family more. Corvus and Kaylanna needed their father around to teach them how to grow up strong and proud. Satine needed a husband, not a soldier. Not anymore...

[member="Satine Detta"] [member="Kaylanna Detta"] [member="Ardgal Raxis"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Rashae"] [member="Mishka Larraq"] [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="The Matador"]

 

[Rashae]

Post count: 2



“Minister, I know this was supposed to be a fixer upper but.. damn. “ Said the pilot.

Most of the galaxy heard of the incident of the explosion on Mandalore. A few knew that Mandalore was mostly uninhabited. Even fewer still knew the extent of the devastation. After sundari, Rashae had an idea from the scans the Padme took of how bad It was. Rashae came up front as she saw the now empty water basin and the glint of Ardgal’s ship. “That’s enough Curtis. It’s what we got to work with. Get landing coordinates and get ready for a lot of hard days of work.”

“Aye, Minister. “ Said the pilot as he looked at all the remains and they were landing on the bones of this desecrated corpse

Rashae’s pad went off as she read the answering message from Ardgal as the Pilot and navigator acquired vectors for their landing from Ardgal’s ship. She softly chuckled as she typed out her response.

‘Hey now. I don’t do the group thing and I don’t share. Virg and Prom will have to get their own bed. Dinner sounds great.’

She was still smiling as she sat down and let the pilot do their thing. He was damned good at following Ardgal’s pilot as they neared a nub in the vast bowl of what used to be an ocean. They circled as Ardgal landed and it wasn’t long till her pad chimmed again. There was a nod of her head.

‘Roger. Landing in ten minutes. Two corvettes.’ She replied succinctly back. Her and Ardgal’s playing was one thing, this was serious. Her attention to serious was significant.

Once her ships had landed she came down the loading ramp with her combat medic security personnel fanning out, in the center was her another doctor and a few nurses all carrying medkits and medical supplies. Rashae had her coms open to Ardgal so he was aware of her orders to her team.

“Martingale, set up for surgical and critical care. Robin, unload and get to the bulk freighter for the small air purifiers. Water, water purifiers and supplies. The Dove and wren, set up outside of Keldabe as close as you dare. Get that large atmospheric purifier set up there. Get initial statistics and report.“ There was a chorus of ‘Aye, Minister.’

Rashae and her team settled in behind General Raxis and his team. As they moved forward she started talking to the Padme. She had brought with her a couple of experts. “Commander Cantalos, where is marvin and regina. “

“Doctor Regina Ashling is ogling over the scanner. Doctor Marvin Ashling is having a seizure over the geological data. “ He said in his patient dry humor.

Rashae rolled her eyes as she walked with Ardgal’s team. Doctor Regina Ashling was an atmospheric science guru and Doctor Marvin Ashling was a geophysicists. A bit of a nut job but scientists seem to hold a tentative grip on sanity. Rashae knew these two from the Academy. Great couple but easily distracted. “Can we herd them over this zone. I need to know how stable we are here. “

“Aye Minister.” Commander Cantalos acknowledged.

Her attention reverted forward to see what will be uncovered in the subterranean levels. This was bleak but from what she learned with the vong and from other systems, this ashy and seemingly dead dirt could be turned into soil with the right help.


[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Mandalore
Allies: Mandos, duh
Enemies: TBD
Objective: Something

Home.

They were finally here. It was the same when they had left it when the cataclysm caused by Ijaat happened. Well, not entirely the same. The core became stable thanks to the Order of the Sacred Lotus, but the landscape was depicted to something like a barren wasteland with no hope of life. It seemed impossible, but it wasn't. Not to the Mandalorians. They had endure many tragedies within the history of their culture that only humbled them, not destroy them.

They were an idea, and nothing could kill ideas. Each warrior that followed Vilaz, each book written by them or someone else, each song composed made that idea immortal.

The cataclysm of Mandalore was worst catastrophe the Mandalorians endured through, but it wouldn't be their tombstone. It would not weaken them and with that it would strengthen them.

Tools and necessities for reconstruction were ready as they had a plan for to mske Mandalore habitable. They couldn't alter the damaged ecosystem unless they used the method of Vongforming or something similar to that, but they could build biodomes. Ironically, one great thing from the cataclysm was the potential possibility of more access to the blood of Mandalore. Beskar.

Dropships and other vessels flew across the skies of Mandalore as they tried to find a suitable place to land, so that they may start reconstruction and return to their proper glory.

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: Manda'yaim
Allies: [member="Alkor Centaris"], Mando'ade
(1/20)

As proud as she was to call herself a Mandalorian, Keira had only been to her cultural homeworld on a handful of occasions, most of them business-related. Only a few times had she been there for the sake of family, when Isley brought her to the Verd Estate in order to better connect with that side of her. Now she was back again, and never had she imagined losing another home. Only this time it was even more terrible, with the surface of the planet blackened and cracked, torn asunder until it didn't resemble a shred of what had once been. Those left to do the remembering were the lost sons and daughters that had finally returned with a purpose greater than to simply mourn. This day would mark the beginning of the reconstruction of what had once been and would always be theirs.

The words of their impromptu guide were half listened to as they walked the scorched earth, her mind for the most part lost in another time. This was where it all began for the vode, one way or another. No matter how far the clock had to be turned back, regardless of clan, all could trace some form of their lineage back to the same world. And as their people had risen, so they had fallen as the planet itself seemed to turn on all its sons and daughters. Countless lives were lost that day, and she remembered with a clarity she wished she didn't retain the moment her elder brother burned with all the rest. Regardless of whether he'd returned to the galaxy or not, she would never forget the loss of even more of the family she had sworn to never let go.

It was mention of a warmachine that drew her attention back to the present, and she properly joined the conversation. "If I had things my way we would. Ever since the Crusaders it's been our goal to remind the galaxy what it means to fear the T-visor. This time I'd like to get around to it." And she meant it. While she respected the Mand'alor that didn't necessarily mean she had to work within his jurisdiction, and that was a line she'd been toeing since the very beginning. She and Alkor had always had their own way of going about things, and so long as they abided by the Resol'nare it didn't really matter how blurred the line of authority became. They were Mandalorians, and it was about time they all started acting like it.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

POST: 2/20
LOCATION: Destroyed Villa

At the entrance to the village, there was an archway that had crumbled; a young man had been caught underneath it. His hand was all that was apparent from the rubble before the Matador removed it. He wondered how he must have felt, he didn't die when the archway crushed his spine. He burned with the rest of them. How must he have felt? Helpless. How he​ felt. But how could he blame himself? He wasn't here.

The Matador continued onwards, blackened corpses continued onward throughout the villa. Many of the houses were still burning. Lava continued to pour, however he paid it little attention. At the top of the village, was a small opening. It seemed, untouched by the raging blaze around it. It drew him closer.

Before him was a empty vacant ruin, an old tomb. Archaic symbols dotted every surface outside. It, had been rotting away since before Mandalore had been violated by traitorous hands. It was a cave, with ancient depictions. The Matador, slipped inside out of the warmth. There was a cold breeze, somehow. The blaze outside kept all but the darkest corners of this small entrance lit.

The Matador knelt down, his eyes observing these drawings of children playing. His head dropped, his lips pushing upward as his face barely held together. He could not look, but he oustretched his hand; running his fingers across the art. He felt it, the power of the Mandolorians was in their children. Breeding was as important as anything else, and in times like this of such a catastrophic event; they were indanger of dying out in the next few centuries to come. He sighed, removing his left handed crushgaunt; allowing his real fingertips to feel the crushed coloured materials that created the artwork. The fact that this survived was a testament to the iron will of the Mandolorians. But, beyond that he felt the deaths of so many in these walls. There were bodies, still on the surface. Black like coal with skin like ash, their faces like screaming oak.

He held back his inner rage, the need for his own vengeance upon the traitour. The Matador laid down his Great Axe, sitting on his knee's with his hands placed on his upper thighs. He closed his eyes, connecting himself with the force, with Mandalore, and his fellow Mandolorians. In the force, they were all one, and they weaved a great tale of anger and defeat. This immense emotion fell flat on the Matador, his mind plagued by individual sorrows. He sighed, taking a deep breath.

"Ni pray par te lost souls be cuun adate, par te screaming ade. Par those tion'ad burned o'r such ibic tracyn. Ni pray par those tion'ad su remain, may val mar'eyir val ara bal not lose sight be themselves ra val brothers bal sisters. Praise Manda'yaim may kaysh beskar walls keep mhi teh harm, may cuun buir heal. May cuun ade nau'ur kad bat at a jate'shya Manda'yaim than ibac which vi settle upon ibi'tuur. Par Manda'yaim..."​

​

​​He bent down to the ground, his palms flat against the cave floor. He kissed the ground beneath him, ending his prayer. He was a shaman, a shepherd of the Tol Varen, and soon following that; other clans. Now, he would guide the Mandolorians in whatever way he could. As, The Matador. It was his duty.

​He trembled.


[member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Rashae"] | [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Ardgal Raxis"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Mishka Larraq"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] |

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Post 2

"When first our people learned of the iron, we were hunters and gatherers. Farmers. We toiled in the dirt and raised crops to feed ourselves, trade, and strengthen the bonds of family." The ancient Mandalorian ran his fingers through the soil and lifted the blackened earth up, sifting it through his fingers. Our tools were stone and wood, we were primitive and warlike."

Alkor watched the history lesson with some interest; Keira appeared to be in another world entirely. "Clans vied against one another simply to survive, and we were scattered across this world. It was in those times when the concept of the Sole Ruler rose to unify us, and it set aside differences of clan to create one massive, if dysfunctional family." His cane dug into the ground as they walked.

"It was during those days, in a time of strife that we mined Manda'yaim deep. We turned her flesh and drained her blood, and she rewarded us with a new skin to wear. It is her gift to us." He turned and clasped the chestplate of Alkor's armor firmly. "No lesser armor comes close."

"Get to the point," Alkor spoke abruptry as he batted the hand away. "We can appreciate the lesson as much as anyone, but how does it help us find the metal?"

"Because when they found it," came the reply, "the world was new. Unspent. Her resources had not been tapped."

The old man tapped his cane over the top of a chunk of rock, and the dull sound echoed back to Alkor's ears. "It is buried deep in her, and during the old times, she was stripped bare, left with layers of her surface torn away and robbed of the gift intended for her children." He bent down, scooped up the rock, and offered it to the pair. "But further layers have been ripped away. The mother herself has burned, uplifted, and utterly changed. Nothing is as it was."

Alkor watched as Keira accepted the rock and wiped away several crusty layers of soil. What she found beneath caught his eye as well. "Beskar ore," he murmured.

"Everywhere," the old man confirmed. "The plates shifted, the earth was rent asunder, and her deepest fonts of ore were exposed to us."

"Why didn't this get reported immediately?" Alkor inquired.

"There was no contact," the reply was sad, but sincere, "we were told that Mand'alor had forsaken us. We spurned him, and yet, he has returned." Alkor seemed very interested in how they had come to the conclusion that Vilaz had abandoned the planet, but he decided not to press the issue. Not yet, at least. "The planet will live again, won't it?" he asked hopefully. "Is it to be restored to greatness?"

"All of the colonies will grow in strength, over time," Alkor answered diplomatically. "Until right now, we never had the means to restore anything. He turned his gaze toward Keira. "We should get teams out to start mining," he said. "And smiths ready to work the forges."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Jak Skirata]

Galek Forest - Outside of Keldabe

The crunch of his boots over the ash echoed through the empty woodland. What was once a place filled with wild Galek Hounds and the occasional Dragon Bear now was quiet but for the occasional hoot of the Cycle Owls that had taken up residence in the forest as if drawn there by some force. Black snow fell from the grey skies up above, a solemn reminder of the betrayal the Mandalorians had faced. He couldn't prove it, not yet, but he felt he was close. It was all too convenient, but until his inside sources got him access to the Ori'ramikade files he needed he would be stuck without much to go on other than his Psychometry and Mandalorian law doesn't take the Force seriously.

His hand dropped to his blaster, the woodland had become silent. A sinister snarl came from the brush along with a wave of uneasiness. This was why he was here. The remnants of Keldabe, those that chose to stay behind in the crumbling city, had sent word to the Skirata Flotilla. Mandalore was recovering, slowly, but it was plagued by great beasts. The calamity had greatly effected the Cycle Owl and To Vhin populations, making many of them ragged, horrifyingly violent creatures. There were even rumors of a massive creature, large enough to even take down the mighty Shriek-Hawk with great black wings terrorizing the clans in the North. This was one such beast.

Its snorts left a trail of warm air in the growing cold, a persistent cloud hanging as it forced out its shallow breaths. It made its move.

The beast charged at him letting lose a wicked Force Scream, giving Davin pause. Its massive size seemed to not hinder its speed in the slightest, its giant mangled claw findings its mark on Davin's chest. The wind left his chest as he was flung into one of the tall Galek trees, loosing a heap of blackened snow. He slumped into the slush, barely conscious. Gathering his anger and pain in the Force he retaliated as the beast charged him again with a powerful Force Push that sent the creature spinning to the left. Using the tree to balance himself Davin wheezed as he attempted to collect himself and gather the Force within his own body. It wouldn't heal the broken rib, but Force Body would keep him in a state similar to being on an adrenaline rush. He would push through the pain. Inhaling through his nose, he cocked his weapon and let loose a all three barrels at once, nearly overheating the blaster.

The beast dodged the blast, sending up a flurry of black slush. Davin cursed in Mando'a as he tried to get a clear shot on the beast but failed. The two clashed, the foul monster was blocked by the carbine and Davin's sheer force of will.

"Karking hell you smell up close..." In response the Feral To Vhin roared in his face, spit splattering across his helmet. What happened next was a red blur.

Davin's lightsaber erupted with a bass heavy snap-hiss, the To Vhin roared in pain and he had somehow disengaged from the beast. Groaning under the stress of its own poor construction, Davin's lightsaber cast a flickering red glow on the blackened snow beneath him.

Spoiler

For those curious, since the images for the To Vhin died

​

​

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Hey now. I don’t do the group thing and I don’t share. Virg and Prom will have to get their own bed.Dinner sounds great.’

Ardgal smirked, shaking his head, she was something else. That woman was a wildcard. In a world of predictable, where protocol, order, and following what you were told was expected, she brought something different to his life. He genuinely laughed, muttering to himself, "You cheeky girl."

He quickly tapped out a reply back to her,

Spoiler

Virgil would die, she is more into the self-care business when it comes to that. And she's got a little too much boob for Prometheus. Besides, you know I'm too selfish to share.

Several of the Alpha team came down from the Atonement after Ardgal, armed with rescue equipment. Instead of rifles they bore rappel lines, and instead of pistols they carried flairs. Alexa came up behind Ardgal, nuzzling the warrior's elbow curiously. He placed his hand on the top of the giant war machine for a second, consoling it before swinging himself into the saddle with one swift move. He patted the droid's metallic haunches, "Come on, girl, lead us to the opening."

For a second Alexa stood still, her sensor nodes scanning the area, searching for her quarry. Then without warning she bolted forward, running as fast as her mechanical legs could take her. The Alpha company scrambled after the droid, struggling to keep up. They had to struggle over ash pits, potholes, uneven footing, and be careful for sinkholes, the droid simply bound from one safe spot to the other. At last she slid to a halt.

Against the side of the mountain was a man-made hole. The doorway had been crafted from durasteel, and what was left of it was molten and partially covered with dried lava. There were words carved on the top, but the destruction had completely made them illegible. Ardgal grabbed a beacon from his battle harness and slapped it on the metal, it stuck with a hard klung as the magnetic seal took grip.

'We are going in, Rashae, if you are going to follow us, be careful, and don't be too far behind," Ardgal warmed her over as Alexa began her decent.

The doorway had led down into an old elevator lift. Before it would have been defunct at best, now there was only one way down--climbing. Alexa's massive metal claws slammed into the sides of the sheer wall, creating foot holds for herself as the droid walked down the cliff face like it was nothing. Ardgal leaned back to keep his balance, but he held on. Behind him, the Alpha company troops quickly attached rappel lines for them to Follow. Ardgal watched as his depth meter showed them descend to 50 meters bellow the surface. It was dark down here, no light could penetrate the darkness. The air was strangely cool, with a faint hint of humidity. He switched his scanners to nightvision as the Alpha company finally came down to meet him. Here the lava flow had made a strange, ebbing flow that had trickled down the passage like water down a river bed, several branches deviated from here. The warrior patted Alexa's sides with pride, "Good girl."

He waited for [member="Rashae"], she would know better than he in this instance where to go from here. And if not her, then certainly her team, "Where do we go from here?"

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

It used to be tough finding work out in Concord Dawn. Then all the Mandalorians left to follow Vilaz to Dxun or wherever they had left. Aria? She had stayed. She saw an opportunity and latched on to it. With the original owner of the Shriek-Hawks down for who knew how long after Mandalore most of his smaller companies split off and became separate. Where before he basically had a private security force for his assets now all those assets had different, more selfish and snobish owners. Daw Motors had split and become its own company, MandalRail, struggling as it was decided it couldn't afford the Shriek-Hawks or its connection to MandalMotors, and the share holders of MandalMotors had all but stopped production save for a few of their best sellers.

So here she was, on the wild frontier world of Concord Dawn, sitting on the outside of the massive magnetic rail car, her scarf blowing wildly along with her hair in the wind.

The car was slowing. Bandits? Or something more bothersome?

Toooooot Tooooooot.

Two long toots usually meant there was an animal in the way...Standing up and leaping from the car she activated her jetpack and flew up to the top of the cars and activated her mag boots to safely land on the moving train.

"Let's see what we have," she muttered as she slipped her helmet on and her macrobinocular down over her visor. Two clicks and she could see what obstructed their path. "An Uvar? All the way out here?" Something wasn't right. Uvar were native to Mandalore's White Sand deserts. They had large water sacs along their neck that kept them hydrated for days even weeks at a time. What was one doing way out on Concord Dawn?

 

[Darth Rixas]

2/20

Long fingers moved to run over the Warmonger's brow, rubbing tersely at the bridge of his nose then outward, as though the simple action could smooth away the immutable pain he'd felt and yet, struggled to completely cope with. He supposed he felt a slight sense of chagrin for Mandalore, for Her fall, for if She had withstood the blow that caused her destruction she would become the weapon of the Mandalorian's destruction. But even still, the possibility was still alive as Oron doubted that the weapon that struck Her down destroyed Her diamonds. Her ore.

Those not of the culture believed Mandalore beyond salvation- believed Her unworthy of rehabilitation. Some wore Her fragments as armor- As a crutch and a lifeline, yet feign ignorance of Her resilience. Mandalore had withstood much in the past, and it would take much more to completely dismantle Her than this. The planet's hardiness spoke to an indescribable end, one that many would abuse without consideration- Something the Mandalorians would be wise to more closely protect in the future, particularly with the contention that was beginning to brew between the various factions of the galaxy. Many would seek Her flesh to create new suits of protection for themselves. Or to forge new weapons; But, no more. None came to her aid during the healing process to pull the barbs from Her eyes and bandage Her wounds but the Mandalorians, and only they would be thanked by the Mother world.

Opening his eyes, Oron stood from the warm surface and slid his helmet back over his head, snapping his gaze towards the sky as freighters bearing construction equipment slowly descended to the surface.

To those faithful to the cause, to the dedicated, exercising their free will to be here when they could have ignored the call was what attracted Oron. Their willingness to rebuild, regardless of the reason. The longer Oron stayed on Mandalore, the more dark and negative his attitude grew towards outsiders of the culture- ironic, considering the cause of Mandalore's current state, but his gelid gaze was tight nonetheless.

...

Fear. Not enough of the Mandalorians inspired it anymore. Sitting in bars, frolicking with Jedi, chasing valueless bounties- Had more been closer to home, perhaps this catastrophe could have been avoided. The faces and names behind the visors had become too friendly, too placid. It was time the armor represented and said more than the names behind them. A true name is the name with which other's can command you. Oron. A name people may call him and is indeed his name, but his true name, the one that is tied to him intrinsically from his moment of conception, imbued with the ability to command his every move.. That was not given away freely, if it truly existed at all. For it is nigh impossible to still, command, and control a Mandalorian caught in the winds of conviction and determination, whose created goals with which they intend to initiate, achieve, and utterly conquer.

Rebuilding and bringing life back to Mandalore- Was among the firsts on the list, something Oron acknowledged as he stepped across the lifeless terrain towards the construction crews. -But its certainly not the last.

 

[RC 212]

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

The Raxis Homestead

It had been a very long time since she'd heard from Torril Raxis. He was once Jack's right hand man, her brothers stalwart companion. He'd stayed on even after Dax his companion had been killed. Torril had been there for the raising of the Clan, for the Knights of Raxis and remained with Jack until he was slain in battle.

And yet her name still hung disgraced, and even her blood. She'd never known her mother Vassara Raxis who'd settled these lands, but the young woman was determined to reclaim them. Several weeks and months worth of travelling had taken them here.

Normally She was a as stalwart as they came. A deep space explorer with the ability to jump a ship without a hyperdive. But this scared her. She had never known Vassara, or Jack all that well. She didn't know anything about the family history, other than what Torril was filling her in on.

The ramp of her YT-1300 opened and she stepped down it, wearing a black cloak, with spacers trousers and a wolf fur blouse. Torril followed, clad in black armor with a red lining. The symbol of a wolf was stamped into his chest plate, the sash of Clan raxis, red and black hung from his neck.

"This is the spot." He said, removing his helmet and breathing in the volcanic ash. Half of the compound had been obliterated by lava flow. But one thing remained, almost as if shielded by the force.

"That's the house. That's where Vass first came to live. Built it with her bare hands."

"My mother built all this?" Ellie asked, tucking her hands into her belt as they walked, ash crunching under their boots.

"No not all of it. For a while Clan Raxis was strong after Jack made them a formal addition to the United Clans. Things didn't go so good after that. Your brother was hot headed, and he held a strict moral code. He built the rest."

Torril packed a lip full of tobacco and then spit.

"Part of the reason I followed him, strict as Osik in his beliefs. Well that got Greys hand chopped off and well. Uncle Grey is story for another time. Reason I brought you here is to see it for yourself. Plus your a woman."

"Which means?" She asked, cocking her head in disbelief.

"You were her daughter. Naturally Jack might've stashed some osik around the property. But since you were her only baby girl, she might have kept even some things from him. Some things only a woman's touch could unlock."

"How?"

"Ever heard of Jal'Shey sorcery or something like that."

"No."

"Exactly, that's why it works. It's mysterious. Now shall we?"

Ellie nodded, a feral look coming over her features. She reached back, drew a sawed shotgun from her X of holsters and locked a shell into the chamber. Spiders of enormous size were crawling the structure and the compound, feasting on random bits of lava fleas and other bugs.

"Let's do it."

 

[Malok]

II​

His hands trembled.
For most, returning to the flame-swept world was cause for celebration. All across the comm channels, excitement was in the air and bled from every word. The people - the long displaced survivors of Manda'yaim - were finally coming Home. And yet, for one among them, the day was cause for Silence. Darth Metus did not take part in the jubilee which roared in his helm. No. Rather, his mind was transfixed on the day that had caused the Exodus...that had caused his demise. His mind was unable to pry itself away from the sensation of burning. Slowly. Completely. Unable to move...or scream. An unruly combination of wrath...of fear...of pain...was responsible for the stone face he wore this day.

And for the trembling fists upon his vessel's controls.

ETA: 30 seconds. chimed the console, briefly snapping the Mandalorian back to reality. His head perked up ever so slightly. His eyes softened ever so slightly. Even in the face of all he had been through, the sight of Mandalore herself still bestowed a sense of calm. Of peace. It was Home, truly...Darth Metus turned his seat about, wordlessly staring against the dim light of his vessel. The ship suddered as it sliced through the atmosphere, conducting its landing routine autonomously. This gave the Mandalorian an opportunity to face the man who had stolen countless souls. This gave the Mandalorian a moment to gaze into the eyes of his mentor...his friend...his killer: [member="Ijaat Mereel"].

Following the events on Monastery, the Sacred Lotus had left the Slayer of Mandalore in Metus' own custody. And so he had been kept, diligently, under the personal watch of the Mandalorian. For the long journey, Ijaat's home was a cell. Electrified. Reinforced. It even sported a few of those lizards that Metus personally despised. Yet, for this, he could cope. For this...he could deal with a temporary departure from his might. "I should put out your eyes." he spat, his tone venomous. "But given your surrender, you've earned one last look at our Home. Savor it. May it bring you comfort after..." Ascension gripped his armored form, and Darth Metus stepped to the side, allowing the final moments of descent to come into view.

There was a final shudder. The ship had landed.

The Mandalorian reached down and gently tapped wrist-pad. At once, a mechanical cacophany rang throughout. The rearmost door opened, forming a ramp which led to the planet's surface. What's more, the cage doors were opened, allowing the sweltering heat of Mandalore to whip into the prisoner's face. Metus reached for his belt, coiling his fingers about the hilt of his treasure - the Darksaber - before wrenching it free. Darkness sprang forth: a blade of onyx was then leveled against the Slayer. "Walk." he growled, motioning his head in the direction of the ramp. The journey from cell to the surface of Manda'yaim would bring "fond" memories to the forefront. Memories of a simpler time when Ijaat and Metus studied together, forged together, and grew together...

Under the shadow of a Volcano.

Metus had brought the Slayer home...to lay his head for the last time.