Haastal Haran
R A I D E R

Netra'Yaim ~ West Wing ~ Haastal's Loft
The days following the celebration of House Verd were designed to be days of rest. For the past month it had been moving from one task to another and now Haastal was finally able to relax. Even better, he was able to do it with Redd. Every member of the clan was given living quarters at Netra'Yaim, it was their home after all. Isley made sure every warrior's loft was filled with any and every amenity that could be thought up. It was the middle of the day and Haastal was lounging with Redd on the sofa in the main living room. He was not wearing the gunmetal and azure armor he usually wore. Instead he wore a simple pair of black shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
"So the Resol'nare is the Mandalorian law but it's not the only law. The different Houses and clans under them make their own laws and rules, y'know? Some clans state you can't show your face to anyone who isn't a Mandalorian while others say you need to craft your armor a certain way." He had spent the early morning explaining the Resol'nare while they watched the holonet and spent time with each other, bit to explain the Law of Iron, the overall law of House Verd, Haastal had turned the net off for a while.
"So like I said, House Verd's take on the Mand'alor is complicated. Because in the past the sole rulor of the Mandalorian's ended up being an ass and betrayin' the clan. Basically our law is we don't follow blindly. If the Mand'alor is worthy then we'll follow, if not then fuck em." Haastal pulled a cigarra from his pocket, setting it in between his lips before exhaling softly. Haastal had not been in the clan for the Great Betrayal, the time where a mad Mand'alor called for the purging of all Force Sensitive Mandalorians, something that was in high supply with House Verd.
"Rule of Iron says we become masters. Master yourself, master the language, master your family, and provide for them." Something about Haastal this morning seemed slightly different from before. His mind was heavy with a thought, but he didn't share it with Redd. "Anyway. What do you think of it all so far?" He asked, laying an arm over the back of the sofa while he reclined on the arm. His bronze skin was flashed by the light that spilled into the room through the windows. The Mandalorian pulled a cigarra lighter from his pocket, lighting the cylinder before exhaling a small cloud into the air.
