Private Iron Branch

[Zavar Kelborn]

IRON BRANCH

Blood, Ice, and Steel - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Court Clan Fett
TAG: Careena Fett

Spoiler: THEME

HOYLIN

The transition from the thin, biting air of Kestri to the heavy, pine-scented atmosphere of Hoylin was enough to make anyone pause. As the ramp of the Kelborn shuttle lowered, the humidity of the forest floor met the cold, sterile interior of the ship, creating a faint mist that swirled around Zavar Kelborn’s boots.

He stepped out onto the Fett waystation, his Beskar armor clinking softly. He wasn't followed by a platoon, just a small retinue: two veterans of the Legendscar Trial and a master smith who carried a modest, leather-bound chest.

The former Enclave Si’kayha stopped at the edge of the clearing, his hands resting naturally on his belt, away from his weapons. He took a moment to appreciate the efficiency of the Fett settlement, the way the scouts moved with a purpose that didn't require shouted orders.

When Zavar spotted the waystation’s sentries, he inclined his head; a gesture of respect from one warrior to another, but with the subtle weight of an Alor.

"I've spent two winters on Kestri learning that the forge is only as strong as the wood that feeds it," he said, his voice calm, carrying easily through the mountain air. "I am Zavar of Clan Kelborn. I heard the Fetts of Hoylin had carved something enduring out of these woods."

He waited then, a patient figure in dark armor, content to stand in the shade of the Fett's forest until the master of the waystation decided to greet her guest.​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

​

Unseen eyes had been on Zavar Kelborn ever since their ship had entered the outpost's sensor range, and followed the moment they made landfall. The back of the lead Mandalorian's head was already in the sights of an ever-vigilant and watchful eye.​

​

<"You would be correct.">​

​

A voice was heard above the Alor of Clan Kelborn amongst the branches of the tree that offered him shade. Making their presence known, the cloak that concealed the owner of the voice faded away, revealing the gray armored Mandalorian it belonged to. Careena Fett, matriarch and the Alor of Clan Fett, rifle in a resting position in her arms as she dropped down. She was never one for sitting idly around, always preferring to keep a watchful eye for any potential hostiles before they had a chance to reach the Morut.​

​

Her posture straightened as her scarred helmet looked the Kelborn up and down. Her vocoded voice continued as she spoke in their shared language, <"Careena Fett. Alor.">, the matriarch said as she kept her introduction brutally short.​

​

Her duty was to protect her own people and those who sought refuge under her care above all else, a sentiment she made known as she remained between Zavar and the Morut. Her finger was lax on the trigger of her rifle, but on it nonetheless. She could never be too careful with visitors from outside her own clan, even those she trusted or considered allies. ​

​

<"Kestri huh? I didn't expect to see the Enclave come out all this way, so far from home. Or perhaps you come on behalf of the pretender and his so-called Empire?"> ​

​

The latter statement came off as an insult were it to be true, as Careena Fett did not recognize Aether Verd's claim to the title of Mand'alor, nor did she care for any of his emissaries or entertain hosting them. ​

​

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

IRON BRANCH

Blood, Ice, and Steel - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Court Clan Fett
TAG: Careena Fett

Spoiler: THEME

HOYLIN

Zavar didn't flinch as the matriarch dropped from the canopy. In his years as a Si’kayha, he had learned to listen for the subtle displacement of air and the weight of a gaze. If anything, the sight of her rifle and the directness of her drop earned a flicker of genuine approval behind his dark visor.

He remained still, his posture relaxed despite her finger resting on the trigger. A warrior who didn't respect a perimeter wasn't a warrior worth knowing.

"The pretender?" the Alor muttered, his Mando'a smooth and resonant. "If I were an emissary for Clan Verd or their Empire, I would have arrived with a parade of vanity and a list of demands I couldn't back up. Clan Kelborn does not bow to any Mand'alor."

He shifted his weight slightly, not reaching for a weapon, but grounding himself. The mention of "home" and "the Enclave" clearly struck a chord of somber pride.

"As for being 'far from home,' the Enclave has always been where its people stand. My father, the Alor before me, taught me that during the Crusade." He paused, giving the weight of that conflict a moment of silence. "He and I bled into the mud and the steel against the Galactic Alliance. We fought to keep our way of life from being extinguished by those who thought they could 'civilize' us. I didn't watch my father fall in Ryloth just to hand our legacy over to a Verd who thinks a fancy cape makes him a leader."

Zavar looked past Careena for a moment, toward the sturdy walls of the Morut. He spoke now with the quiet intensity of a man who saw a future others hadn't yet realized.

"The Crusade taught me something else, too," he added, his voice dropping to a more intimate frequency. "Static walls and hidden outposts are noble, but they are targets. The Sith found us. The Empire will try to find us. I am here because I believe the spirit of the Mythosaur wasn't meant to be caged in a single mountain range or a lone snowy moon."

He looked back at Careena, his helmet tilting toward the sky.

"I am looking for those who understand that for Mandalore to truly endure, we must become like the great beasts of old; a presence that moves, a hearth that roams the stars, never settling long enough for our enemies to close the net. Kestri is a foundation, but I am here to see if the Fetts of Hoylin are interested in building something that can outrun the coming storm."​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

​

Careena's trigger relaxed as the Kelborn declared he wasn't coming on behalf of Verd. While she did not sympathize with the statement that they bowed to no Mand'alor, it was at least better than claiming fealty to a false one. She hoped for a Mand'alor that all could respect, at least one within her lifetime. She gave Zavar the benefit of the doubt as she moved to lock her rifle to her back, stowing it away.​

​

<"I remember your father. He answered my call, as did many others when we began the Crusades. Meros was a good man and an honorable warrior. Our people lost a great Alor with his passing... I will not forget his sacrifice during the Crusades."> She rested one hand on her belt and extended her other arm out, a gesture made out of respect to the younger Alor. Whether he accepted it or not, she continued <"I trust that Clan Kelborn is in good and capable hands.">​

​

<"Our people endure so long as they continue to believe and carry our legacies with them, just as your father's legacy endures under you."> She wasn't one for the more mystical and idealistic interpretations of their ways; that was more within the realm of Carduul Akahl . What she did know was that when her people needed aid, she would be there for those worthy enough to be called Mandalorians. ​

​

<"This..."> She gestured to the Morut behind her, <"Isn't what the crusades I called for was meant to amount to. It was a chance to unite our brothers and sisters in arms under a common cause; a shared purpose. A chance to redeem those who had lost their honor and the lost to find their way.">​

​

<"Make no mistake. You may call this place a target, but that is why we sharpen ourselves. If our enemies come, we will fight tooth and claw as we always have. They will be reminded how a true Mandalorian fights, not the cowards who hide behind politics and false promises of peace."> Her voice may have been gentle, but the tone in which she spoke carried the weight of her conviction behind it. She was not afraid of death nor her enemies, for as long as one Fett remained in the Galaxy, their way would live on. That knowledge alone was enough to keep her mind at ease.​

​

She raised her hands up to her helmet, lifting it off her head before tucking it under her arm. Her features still remained sharp, but a small smile softened it as she turned, gesturing for Zavar and his retinue to follow, <"Come. I'm sure the journey was long. I will not be remembered as a poor host to those who have shed blood and steel in battle alongside me. I shall hear what you have to propose."> Careena gestured with a small wave of her hand as the sentries nodded and resumed their patrol. The matriarch would guide the Kelborn past training yards of young and old Mandalorians training with each other. The halls of the Morut were lively with Mandalorians of various clans interacting with one another and sharing tales of battle and the nuances of their individual clans to one another over food and drink. ​

​

Zavar Kelborn ​

​

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

IRON BRANCH

Blood, Ice, and Steel - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: In Bio
OBJECTIVE: Court Clan Fett
TAG: Careena Fett

Spoiler: THEME

HOYLIN

Zavar's posture didn't shift into a formal salute, but the way he inclined his head as she removed her helmet was far more personal, a gesture that he soon returned, revealing long, dark brown strands and a young-ish face that is still adjusting to the Alor title. It was the acknowledgement of one leader to another who had both seen the true cost of their culture's survival.

“My father spoke of your call to arms until the day he fell,” Zavar replied, his voice losing some of its sharp, diplomatic edge and replacing it with a somber resonance. "To hear he is remembered by the one who sounded the horn... it carries weight. He didn't just fight for the Crusade; he believed in the vision you gave our people when we were at our most fractured. I carry his armor, but I also carry his hope that the iron would one day find its way back to a single forge."

He looked at her extended arm and reached out, gripping her forearm in a firm, traditional warrior's clasp, steel meeting steel. "Clan Kelborn remembers its friends, Alor Fett."

As they began to walk toward the entrance of the Morut, Zavar listened to her defense of the waystation. He watched the younglings sparring and the veterans sharpening blades, his visor scanning the efficiency of the Fett stronghold with a critical, appreciative eye.

"Do not mistake my words for a desire to hide, Careena," he said, his tone turning clinical and sharp. "A beast in a den is a formidable foe, but it is a beast that has surrendered the initiative."

He gestured vaguely toward the horizon, where the stars waited.

"The fleet I am talking about is not a life-raft. It is a striking claw. To move the hearth is to strike first, strike fast, and vanish before the enemy even knows which way the wind is blowing. It's about becoming a predator that the galaxy can never pin down. We sharpen ourselves here, yes, but we deliver the blade where it's least expected."

The sights and sounds of the Morut, the clatter of practice blades and the low hum of communal life seemed to settle something in Zavar. It reminded him of the Storyfires on Kestri, the cold unity that defined his own people.

"I would be honored to sit at your hearth," Zavar said, stepping into the warmth of the hall alongside her. Zavar signaled his master smith to step forward. The smith presented the leather-bound chest, opening it to reveal a specialized piece of Kelborn craftsmanship resting on a bed of dark velvet.

It was a heavy-duty Hunter Beskad, its blade etched with the subtle, interlocking scales of a Mythosaur. The metal had the characteristic matte-black finish of Kelborn steel, designed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"In our tradition, we do not let the armor of the fallen rest in the dirt. We reforge it into new legend," Zavar explained, gesturing to the weapon. "The pommel of this blade contains a fragment of a Kelborn shield that held the line at the Siege of Mygeeto. It is tempered for the wood of Hoylin and the bone of our enemies alike. Consider it a token of respect, from one hearth to another, and a sign that Clan Kelborn values the hands that hold the frontier."​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

​

Careena continued to guide Zavar into the Morut, Mandalorians making way for the matriarch <"Meros will be remembered in our clan's songs and tales, as will every other Mandalorian who heeded the call of the Crusades. He shall not be forgot so long as one of us breathes to tell his tale."> She glanced over her shoulder <"We Fett do not forget either. So long as you trust us to watch your back, we shall trust you with ours.">​

​

Her gaze followed his gesture as he began to talk about movement, his proposition to her. Nothing he said was wrong, nor did she disagree with the intention. Their people were never meant to settle, always on the move, always expanding, and always teaching their ways to those who had yet to discover who they truly were. She only oversaw the Morut as an obligation to her cousin Galaar Fett and what he had built. Before then, she herself had always wandered the stars in search of like-minded individuals, from the Deathwatch to the Sons of Mandalore, and the Neo Crusaders.​

​

The only true home they all shared was Mandalore, which was currently occupied by a narcissistic jester who claimed their name and heritage but spat on it to those who truly understood what it meant to be Sole Ruler.​

​

She sat herself within the communal halls and gestured for Zavar and his companions to do the same. One of them stepped forward at Zavar's signal, presenting the chest that they had been carrying with them since their arrival - An offering to her. Her eyes looked over the weapon, admiring its craftsmanship as she gently lifted it in both hands to inspect it more closely. She felt its weight and balance in her hands as Zavar explained its history, ​

​

<"A peculiar practice, but one that I can respect and honor,"> she murmured. Typically, she honored the dead by burying them with the armor they died in, the only exception made being the armor being passed down to the next of kin so that they may bear its legacy. To reforge the honored dead's prized possession into a new legend was certainly something she had not considered. How the clans approached their particular ways and shared them was what she found pride in amongst her people, especially given how the Morut served such a similar purpose.​

​

<"You honor me with this gift, of which I humbly accept. May its edge find our people's enemies and slake its thirst with their blood."> She said as she turned the blade over in her hand, <"Tell me more of this fleet... Whom does it seek to strike? Upon whom will our people's wrath be felt by? A flotilla with no purpose is hardly a flotilla at all. My call to crusade had purpose, so tell me what is yours?"> It was by no means a pointed or question dipped in sarcasm; Careena was curious as to whether this so-called movement would serve an actual purpose or if it was merely a means to gather those on the fringes of space. ​

​

Was it a cause worth fighting for? A cause worth potentially dying for? That was all that mattered to the Alor.​

​

​

Zavar Kelborn ​

​