Faction Look How The Mighty Fall | The Mandalorian Enclave

[Kreg Jare]

Reflect | Open
​

Many Years Ago - Raydonia

Raindrops continued to drip down the front of his helmet, slowly soaking the body glove worn beneath his Beskar.

The forest surrounding the man was unusually quiet. It was only a few days ago when sounds of various wildlife filled these trees. Species, multitudes of them, called this place their home. Simple lives were to be lived out by them. That was until the Sith before him set fire to this place. Heavy scents of ash still hung in the air. Thousands were killed. Not just the plants and the animals, but people too. Living, breathing, sentient people. Kreg was not going to let that slide.

A battered, defeated Sith sat on both knees before the Mandalorian. He had been tracking this monster from planet to planet. The path of destruction she left in her wake was easily traceable. Villages and towns burnt to the ground, all for what? The answer would soon be found. Inching his vibrosword closer to the Sith's neck, the angrily began to question them.

"Speak your name Sith, so that you can confirm the crimes you committed."

Bright yellow eyes slowly peered upward. The women was somewhat young, no older than mid twenties. Her black hair was now soaked by the rain, along with her robes. A scar decorated her left cheek, clearly from another lightsaber. Be Jedi or fellow Sith, he did not care. They all die the same. Slowly, a smile crept onto the Sith's face. One made of deceit and lies.

"My name is Darth Rohlar, but you may call Viera."

Kreg groaned in disgust. She was all too friendly for having a vibrosword at her neck and a blaster pointed directly at her forehead. Whatever Viera's plan was, it was not going to work.

"Well Viera, on behalf of the Ord Radama Planetary Defense Force, I am here to collect the bounty placed upon you. The contract states that you can be brought in dead or alive, so I suggest you cooperate. Understand?"

A simple head nod was given by the Sith. Yet out of the corner of his eye, the knocked away lightsaber hilt began to quiver. In a flash, the weapon sprung towards Viera's hand. This was not his first encounter with a Sith though. Adjusting his vibrosword, the man cut off her near arm, right below the shoulder. Screams of pain soon followed. No sympathy would be given from the Mandalorian.

"You listen here you devil. Tell me what you are doing out here in this sector of space burning villages to the ground. You answer me this, and you might live. Now talk!"

The screams of pain quieted slightly as her yellow eyes rose once again.

"You fool! Something is coming, something that is not from this galaxy. I was merely preparing for the end. They are even more powerful than the Sith. But I'll be around long enough to defeat them, but I can't say the same for you!"

Her opposite hand reached out again for the lightsaber hilt. Another quick slash would stop her this time, but it would not be Viera's shoulder. The Sith's head flew to the side, landing in a nearby puddle. Shame, there would go a few thousand more credits. But now Kreg would have a quiet flight back. What nonsense was this anyways. Things from other galaxies? Please, like that was ever going to happen.

————————————————​

Present Day - Shukur Kyr'bes Tavern, Kestri

He was tired.

Years had been spent hunting Jedi and Sith alike, just to have them meet their end. He was a mere boy when his conquest started. The slaughter that occurred on Dantooine seemed like a lifetime ago. A lifetime ago when his brothers and sisters were murdered by sabers of all colors. But sitting here now, alone in a corner booth, he realized that none of it would bring them back. Every fellow Mandalorian that tried to befriend him was just seen as a lesser. Kreg was a member of Clan Jare, the most fearsome warriors of Mandalore. Yet now? He was all that remained.

A relic from days past.

The oath he took moons ago, swearing to uphold the ways of the Mandalore, had long since lost its purpose. Anyone could be Beskar-wearer these days. Being a warrior has long since lost its meaning. Hell, even he had trouble defining it.

Placing both of his hands on either side of his helmet, the man slowly lifted upward. He swore decades ago that he would never remove his helmet. But the people he swore to were no longer here. His clan, his teachings, everything that defined who he was funneled down to him. No elders to fall back on to. Just him. The only one left. Placing his faded blue helmet on the table, the man called over a server.

It was time to drink.

 

[Todblaz Graker]

​

Upon seeing Gwyneira Vizsla take a more relaxed seat, Todd leaned back. However, he cocked his head a little at her statement about enjoying waiting. Nobody enjoys waiting, and life is too short to sit around on the whim of others. Despite that logic, to each their own.

"I am he," Todd said, sitting back up as a waitress walked by. Reaching out, he grabbed a small glass off the woman's tray and placed it in front of him before she could notice his thievery. He put the glass up to his helmet and poured the drink he had stolen through a hole where the mouth was so he could enjoy it.

Placing the drink down, he listened intently to what she had to say. "I do believe I have seen some of your work, and if it's anything like what I've heard, it should be up to a fine standard. As one who has worked with the Mandalorians, I do know how precious your beskar is to you all." Behind the mask, he grinned, letting out a light chuckle.

He continued, "I am in search of a new revolver. Mine... well, it detonated in my hands. I believe it was the Mandalorians who created slugthrowers, so I am here to purchase one."

Continuing to prattle on about specs, he continued with his drink. Todd was lying about having seen her work. All he had heard was that it wasn't bad, and he had never once actually done any research on it. Though when his revolver exploded, he decided not to fix it and to hang it up. "The caliber must fit these," he pulled out three bullets, red, blue, and grey tipped ones. "I don't mind whether it's single-action or double-action, whatever's best in your eyes."

He leaned back, going for another sip of his drink, only to find he had finished it. Sighing, he returned the glass to its position on the table.

 

[Kas Varad]

Looks good for a dead man. Siv Dragr , Kas thought, taking another shot of the vile black, not interrupting the brother's important moment. He just raised a glass to Obran .

Making room at the bar for the many newcomers, by consolidating his drinks into a pile. Nobody was meant to remember Kas, he preferred it that way. Nodding to Thonn Rokkal , Vren Rook and Vulcan Krayt respectfully when they joined them. "Su'cuy" Hello. Today was looking up. You could feel there was a change coming.

"At kestri, at akaane bal vod olaror bal dar." As Jocun Jones began to play and Mac O Shenanigans made a salute of his own. He clapped his hands together once in appreciation for the music. 'To kestri, to wars and brothers come and gone.' He raised a toast maybe to himself, maybe to the bar, or anyone who gave a damn. Maybe an excuse to drink or just because they "vi cuyir su oyayc" were still alive. Their memories were here with them in this room, in every action, and that was something they all had in common.

While you lived there was fight in their bones. Turning around to see so many faces. Well if anyone thought the clans were dead he must be seeing double more than usual. Gwyneira Vizsla , Kalðr Ísbjørn , Todblaz Graker , Elise Ahana-Gwyneira , Kreg Jare and so many others

To hell with the odds. They were coming back.

 

[Corbin Vasher]

Spoiler: EQUIPMENT

STARSHIP: Tra'tena SPEEDER: Burbr ARMOR: Burbr'Katya Mk II
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr - Gaan'sacitadr - Dueling Blades

Corbin felt something was strange before he even entered the atmosphere of Kestri. He definitely knew something was odd when he saw the state of Tor Valum, how run down it seemed. How was this possible? It had only been a couple of years since he had last visited. He had been busy with his company, his position as a Jensaarai Defender and his place within the Rimward Trade League, and his training in various aspects of the Force, including another recent foray into the Netherworld. But it had not been long enough for this!
He walked along the city streets, taking in the stagnation and decline. What had happened? Well, there was one place he definitely had to look for answers: his family's home here. He had come to check in on them anyway, so he would also get some answers. Manda willing they were all right...

It would be from this that Corbin would learn that around twenty something years had passed since he had last been here... Apparently he had experienced a time distortion in the Netherworld? That's the best he could figure. Or perhaps something else had caused it. He had no way of knowing for sure. All he knew, was they he hadn't aged at all, and his family were all two decades older. His grandmother was actually elderly!

After spending time with his family, them being surprised that he was still alive after twenty plus years, he excused himself to wander the city again. He found himself outside the Shulur Kyr'bes Tavern. He could really use a drink, and the tavern seemed to be doing decent business right now. That was something. He walked inside, recognizing the presence of a few people, though the faces were different by twenty years or so for the most part. He doubted anyone would even remember him, so maybe they wouldn't be shocked by the fact that he hadn't aged. He walked up to the bar, beside a large man with snowy white hair whose armor gave off an icy chill. What was that? Ostrine alloyed into his beskar? Interesting.
Corbin turned to the barkeep. "The strongest you have, please."

There was a beautiful young woman without any armor talking about wishing to have seen Kestri in its heyday. She was pretty in features, but it was her Force Aura that was especially beautiful. Corbin nearly choked on his drink when he realized who this was, and that, even though they seemed about the same age, she hadn't even been born yet the last time he had been on Kestri....

TAGS: Open
Gwyneira Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Elise Ahana-Gwyneira​

 

[Mac O Shenanigans]

Mac just shrugged, "To be 'onest, I never got to see Kestri before it got bad. I 'ad planned to, only fig'ting t'e damned Dar'jetii kept me busy. After t'e collapse of t'e Enclave, well, me and w'ats left of my clan, well let's just say we've been a little nomadic in some modified Action VI freig’ters…"

Mac was proud, of the few ships they used, one functioned as a mobile forge, another held the Prudii'kad, and the other two were essentially mobile pop up housing, add in the other small fighters/ships it was about a dozen in the 'fleet'. Enough for the small clan, but they were still looking for a new permanent home…

He took another swig of his pint, finishing it off and ordering another with a wave to the barkeep. "So, if'n you were born 'ere, t'en you're Mando'ad, w'y no armor?" Mac was genuinely curious, he had his first chest plate as just a child. "If it's a simple matter of not 'aving anyone to 'bang' you out a set, I'd be 'appy to at least get you started with somet’ing." Mac tapped the diamond piece, "T'is one was my fat'er's, but as I proved myself as a goran apprentice, I made t’e rest of my armor myself." He was proud of his skills, as he still worked beskar by hand with an old coal forge. Sure it took longer, and modern forges could produce great results, Mac still valued the skill involved in the old ways…

***************​

Mac was standing over an old forge, a grizzled old man watching with hawks eyes. "Remember boy, keep a good eye on that, you don't want to burn it, and ruin the steel." Pulling the plate out, Mac carefully studied the color, taking it over to the anvil. The stage he was at now called for measured, controlled swings of the hammer. "That's it, feel the beskar, let it speak to you…" The old man smiled with pride, Mac was showing great promise as a young smith.

It took Mac the better part of the afternoon, but the belly plate he had been working on was damned near complete. All that was left was the final heat treating of the beskar, where the soul of the metal was solidified.

As Mac gleemed with satisfaction, he approached his master, setting it down for final inspection. The old beskarsmith picked up the plate, inspecting it closely, finally giving it a rap with his knuckle, listening to the ring… [color=Green"Well, it looks like a well made piece, let's test it…"[/color] Before Mac could respond, the old man threw it into the sky, pulling his old blaster before shooting the plate several times as it fell to the earth. "Now, your final task, and you will be a full goran…. Finish your armor."

"You're not going to c'eck to see if it's ok? 'ow can I know if my first plate is actually good?"

The old man smiled, "That is no longer a part of your armor, you'll outgrow it soon enough, it shall go to one of our younger adiik."

***************​

Mac snapped back out of his memory when the fresh glass was set down, "I must admit t'oug', I wis' I 'ad visited sooner, t'is world 'as a certain c'arm still." Although a bit frigid charm…

Mac glanced at the necklace Elise wore, and the unusual glow it emitted. "T'at's a well made item. Did you craft it?"

Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Kas Varad Kalðr Ísbjørn Corbin Vasher

 

[Elise Ahana-Gwyneira]

As the man spoke of beskar'gam, Elise felt a rush of longing and anticipation in her heart. Ah, she had no armor. Not yet. But she had her reasons.

The hybrid looked down at her food and leaned against the counter with a sigh. She took hold of the necklace he had also inquired about. She responded honestly.

"My mother made this necklace. Gwyneira Krayt, an amazing smith, engineer, technician, mechanic. She spent her entire life expanding this stuff she calls "art." She also can craft beskar'gam and already keeps bombarding me with ideas for when the time comes. But the time isn't here yet. I haven't earned my armor yet."

She let go of the necklace, placing her hand on the counter. "I've spent all my time training. Sure, I go out with my father and grandfather occasionally, but I don't have that much experience. During my childhood, I trained and plowed through my schooling. I wanted to graduate as soon as possible to keep training. Then when I graduated, I near immediately signed up to become a Novanian Shaman as well. I've been training as both a Shaman and Mandalorian warrior for years now..."

She lifted her hand and reached out to what appeared to be nothing. Whatever it was, it was out of reach. "I think I'm ready to jump now. I'll earn my beskar'gam soon enough."

For a moment, it seemed like the stars themselves sparkled in her eyes.

Then, another feeling from across the room. She felt a sense of visual pleasure, and a feeling of her own aura being sensed as well. It was like two people looking into a mirror and seeing the true reflection. She blinked, looking into the direction of the feeling and looking at a young man with short, jet black hair. His black Mandalorian armor, his weapons, and his own Force Signature were all... off. Very off. Not in a twisted, dark side sort of way. It was more like some kind of anomaly was within him. The girl tilted her head. Curious...

Then, she realized she was staring.

She blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing as she was overcome with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare!"

Then, she remembered she had already been in conversation with someone else! She turned back to the beskar smith, "I'm sorry! I still remember you're here too!"

Her pale face was several shades darker, caught up in the awkwardness of it all. Perhaps, she had been so intent on studying and training her whole life, she never took her mother's advice to make friends and be social. Perhaps, her social skills needed some work.

"Oh!" She covered her face with her hands.

Mac O Shenanigans Corbin Vasher @others

 

[Kalðr Ísbjørn]

Spoiler: Equipment

Armor: Htagir'Jorir | Kalðr Ísbjørn's Beskar'gam
Weapons: PS-118 Blaster Shotgun - G'ahycaya | Kalðr Ísbjørn's Beskad
Items: AXC (x3) - CryoBan Grenade (x12) - Power Packs (x12)​

---

Kalðr Ísbjørn sat at the bar and listened to the red-eyed girl speak with the older blacksmith as a young man in shadowy armor walked up and ordered a drink. Despite showing no outward emotion (years of living alone on a frigid world had made him unable to show emotion at all), he was rather amused when the young man started coughing on his drink as he looked at the girl. He himself had never even thought about women or romance. He wasn't even sure he was capable of feeling anything like that. He'd likely never had children, but maybe he could adopt a foundling to train. Or perhaps his clan would end when he died. He was the last one left, after all. Let the snowflakes fall where they will. He'd accept it either way.
He decided to add into the conversation the girl and blacksmith were having. "All you need is a verd'goten to test your skills and prove yourself. I hear beskar is difficult to come by nowadays. I inherited mine from my grandfather. Name is Kalðr Ísbjørn [Kalder Issbyorn], nice to meet you all. This is my first time on Kestri."

---

TAGS: Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Mac O Shenanigans Corbin Vasher ​

 

[Obran]

Theme

Interacting: Kas Varad | Jocun Jones | Thonn Rokkal | Obran
Tag: Vulcan Krayt | Vren Rook | Gwyneira Vizsla | Elise Ahana-Gwyneira

"You're. . . dead,"

Obran smiled slightly at his brother's words, a thin and humorless smile meant more for his brothers' benefit than feeling any sort of joy. For a moment, his eyes were distant and haunted, and he shivered as if dunked in cold water. Then a genuine grin, began in his eyes as his mind returned from the memories of the Nether. Clanging steel and death cries in the Field of Blades where he fought endlessly for decades without rest. Reaching up, he removed a crushgauntlet and let it drop to the floor, grabbing the bone knife at his hip and slicing on the palm, blood welling from the shallow cut. Droplets spilled from between his fingers as he clenched his fist.

"I bleed. I live. Death didn't become me, brother. I came as soon as I could, believe it or not. What has happened to our people?"

 

[Corbin Vasher]

Spoiler: EQUIPMENT

STARSHIP: Tra'tena SPEEDER: Burbr ARMOR: Burbr'Katya Mk II
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr - Gaan'sacitadr - Dueling Blades

Then, she realized she was staring.

She blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing as she was overcome with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare!"

There was a moment there when the girl's red eyes met his deep purple eyes that he had felt something shift in the Cosmic Force. It was like it was telling him he needed to learn something from her that would guide his path... Something of these Novanian Shaman she spoke of? Or something else?
"Don't worry about it. I know I'm a bit unusual. But aren't we all?"

"All you need is a verd'goten to test your skills and prove yourself. I hear beskar is difficult to come by nowadays. I inherited mine from my grandfather. Name is Kalðr Ísbjørn, nice to meet you all. This is my first time on Kestri."

"Corbin Vasher, nice to meet you as well. And beskar can be difficult to come by. So many of our enemies have taken it and hidden it away or but it on the black market. I did manage at one point to acquire a shipload in a raid. Was a small fraction of what was there... I still have a little if you ever need any." That last sentence was addressed specifically to the girl.
"My helmet was from my grandfather as well, though I reforged it and forged the rest of my armor myself." Though he had not used traditional means... But it would probably be best not to mention that he had used Jensaarai Force Alchemy - a variant of Sith Alchemy - to forge his armor. "Same for my weapons."

TAGS: Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Mac O Shenanigans Kalðr Ísbjørn​

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

Location: Shulur Kyr'bes Tavern, Tor Valum
Objective: Get a drink
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol
Tags: Vren Rook | Open

Vulcan got a few glares of his own, as a teenager, he hardly got looks like that, but now, at 35, he's been getting unpleasant looks here in the tavern. He knew exactly what the undertones signify, he was far from stupid.

He's still short-statured, and that will never change, and he learnt to ignore it. Everyone had a part to play in the Enclave's disintegration, not just him or his fellows. Vulcan may ignore it, but he sure as heck wasn't going to take it any time soon. Misdirected anger doesn't do anyone any favours.

He noticed Gwyn out of the corner of his eye and waved back. Then he noticed Vren, who was a sight for sore eyes, as he had wondered what happened to him. The whole Mando'ade Collapse wasn't kind, he could tell, but he wasn't about to make that observation. He learned to filter his thoughts and was able to act in a more adult way. Still, he still took metaphors literally, he was working on it.

<"Same old, had a big fight on my hands and survived,"> Vulcan replied owlishly while summarising Krayt-related happenings that don't get into a kvetch-rant about the whole thing.

<"Most went off world, trying to get dignified jobs than languishing here. Those who stayed after the exodus have been getting the .. um ... stink eye.">

Vulcan had taken a handful of nuts before promptly turning the topic onto Vren and what he got up to.

<"What about you Vren, what happened to you?">

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

Gwyneira showed mostly pleasant expressions. She nodded agreeably and watched her client with interest. Though, she did raise a slight eyebrow when he said he had researched her work. Through Force Sense, she could tell he was blatantly lying. She did not challenge him, however. Not yet. As he gave details on the kind of slugthrower he wanted, Gwyn could feel some Mandalorians around the bar glaring at her. As the blueprints were pulled out, Gwyn took a moment to look to the side and return a glare to a nearby vod wearing a Clan Kryze emblem.

I may not physically live here on Kestri anymore, but I still helped plenty through the years! How many ships designed by me do you need! How many custom weapons worthy of a Mand'alor! I've fought battles when you needed me, following the Resol'nare! I simply refused to raise my daughter on your crashing ship of a system! Do not blame me for your downfall!

Of course, this entire rant was kept to herself. She knew arguing would solve nothing. And she did not mean to start a fight - with words or fists - tonight. The narrowed eyes she gave were simply the warning to back off. Like any Mandalorian, she knew how to defend herself.

Thankfully, the message was received. The Kryze turned to a fellow vod and started spreading gossip instead. Gwyn rolled her eyes, not in the mood to deal with that immature behavior, and returned her focus to the blueprints. She looked at the three separate blueprints. Understanding and intrigue sparked on her face as a smile crept over her lips.

"Hmm, three separate types of rounds. I have always enjoyed versatility! This looks like an old school model you're aiming for. I'll have to compensate the cartridge's limited ammunition capacity with a fast reload mechanism. Nothing simply popping the cartridge can't fix."

She looked outright giddy as she fawned over the blueprints. Her cybernetic eyes sparkled and her movements became more hyper. The rush she was feeling was making her cheeks flush. She rapidly moved her arms as she spoke, already imagining putting the weapon together as she did some air tinkering with her hands.

She pointed to the model on the grey blueprint and tapped the barrel, "Would you like me to add a laser pointer to this? It could help you aim better - not saying you're not good!"

She waved her hand, showing she meant no insult, as she smiled, "If you have a pet tooka, it could be fun too!"

"I take it concealed carry isn't in your vision here either? This is a larger pistol, and the sound of firing this off will be able to wake a hibernating zillo beast."

With an eager smile, she just kept gushing over it all, "While I am sure that pulling the hammer can be satisfying in a single action revolver, the double action will be easier and faster for you. - Oh."

She blinked for a moment, then laughed, "I'm sorry! I've been giving you no room to answer!"

Todblaz Graker

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Tag: OPEN

A figure in a gray cloak stood outside the rundown tavern, staring at it. The wind blew with a mighty howl causing the cloak to flap repeatedly. In spite of it the traveler kept standing there. Finally after a minute a sigh was uttered beneath the hood and Minerva whispered to herself.

"You're not a coward. Go in there already."

With that mental kick she took the first step followed by another and soon she walked on in. Upon entry the hooded Mandalorian immediately noted there more than she expected. There was some tension in the air from some but there was also goodwill from others to each other. The state from here to the world in general wasn't the best but the fact there were Mandalorians just hanging out encouraged her.

The Enclave is gone but its ideals will live on and so will our people.

At the realization She threw back the hood, revealing her emerald tinted helm. Becoming more confident Minerva strolled to the bar itself. Taking an empty chair she subsequently took off the helmet, revealing her face that bore signs of exhaustion yet relief. To the bartender Minerva said passing some credits.

"One round of Ne'tra gal."

While the bartender went to fix up the drink she looked around and couldn't help but sadly smiled.

"After so long I'm among my vod again.”

 

[Todblaz Graker]

Todd observed the silent exchange between Gwyneira Vizsla and another patron at the bar, though he was unsure of its nature. Eventually, the conversation concluded with Gwyneira launching into a rant about specifications. Intrigued, Todd considered asking more questions, but decided to hold off until the immediate matter was handled.

As Gwyneira fired off a barrage of questions, Todd opened his mouth to respond, but she plowed ahead without waiting for his answer. When the interrogation finally drew to a close, he chuckled, listening to her apologize for the rant. "To answer your first question, I don't need a laser pointer since my helmet takes care of that, and as for pets, I'm not a big fan. If it can fit in a holster under my coat, that's the perfect size. If you know any leatherworkers, that would be lovely."

Considering the revolver's action, Todd suggested, "Maybe a single-action would be better, as it allows for fanning and makes it easier to engage multiple targets. The most important thing is that it accommodates bullets or slugs with a diameter that matches the ones I use."

"I don't mean to interrupt our conversation, but I must ask: who were you glaring at just now? I'm not looking to get involved in any feuds by buying from you," he added, suddenly realizing his mistake. "I didn't mean to imply that there's a feud or anything." Todd didn't want to come off as rude and hoped Gwyneira wouldn't take offense.

As Todd looked around the bar, he couldn't help but notice a higher than usual number of patrons wearing Beskar'gam. He wasn't used to seeing so many in one place, as the bars he usually visited had none or very few of them. He started to feel out of place and wondered if this was how Mandalorians felt in bars on other parts of the galaxy. It presented an opportunity to learn more about their culture, but he thought a museum might be a better setting than a bar.

 

[Mac O Shenanigans]

Mac glanced up at the fair skinned man, "Well met Vod, and it just depends on your connections, or if'n your willing to go t'roug' 'aran to liberate t'e beskar." Mac raised his glass in toast to him "Kalðr, may you continue to wear your ba'buir's 'gam with 'onor. I look forward to s'aring t'e field of battle in t'e future." Mac chuckled a little at the other man who seemed to have forgot to drink his ale, not breathe it. "Always nice to see 'gam t'at 'as been made by it's wearer. It's soul will always be connected to you…"

Mac turned back to Elise, "Well, I really 'ope I am t'ere to see it w'en you do. In fact, if I am, t'en I would be more t'an 'appy to fas'ion one of t'e pieces especially to commemorate t'e occasion." Mac smiled, "I would love to meet anot'er artist with beskar. Even t'oug' at this point, I'm really looking for someone to 'elp me find and or make t'e systems and weapons for an old ship I found and am restoring as a troop insertion platform."

Mac didn't want to give too much away right now, but it was always good to keep one's connections open. Besides, it was at this moment just a large beskar hull and framework. His cousin was in the process of acquiring the copper mesh and installing it under both the armor plating and the internal bulkheads, creating basically a dual layer faraday cage. "Let's just say, t'e plan is for it to be a nice low-tec' deadly surprise for our aru'e."



Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Kas Varad Kalðr Ísbjørn Corbin Vasher
Gwyneira Vizsla

 

[Elise Ahana-Gwyneira]

Elise listened to all the surrounding people spoke of. The stories of their own beskar'gams, adventures collecting new beskar, and the glories of craftsmanship. Elise listened to it all, looking around at these older and wiser vode, then spoke.

"My mother is determined to pass her buy'ce down to me. It was forged from the beskar of her own buir's chest plate. It's the tradition of beskar being passed down from generation to generation."

She looked to the beskar smith with an amused expression, "My mother is so high tech, it's crazy. I can't figure out most of what she's saying when she talks about programming and engineering and whatever else. But I could always give you her contact information."

It was a sad thing, hearing Corbin talk about how beskar was stolen and sold to outsiders. Only Mandalorians should be possessing and using beskar! It was heresy to suggest otherwise! And she had heard stories from her parents, especially her father, of Sith who had stolen and defiled beskar; committing blasphemy by tainting it with Sith Alchemy. It was a wretched thing, something even the Enclave had been unable to combat in its glory days. The anger was visible on her face as Corbin spoke of it. She wore a snarl, and her Chiss red eyes glinted in fury.

It was ironic, that the Mandalorian who was frigid cold managed to make her feel warmer. Speaking of his tale and his family lineage. She gave him a smile and a nod. Then, she looked up.

"I will definitely need to find more beskar. You have all earned and inherited yours. But I have nothing to my legacy yet."

She extended her hands, reaching for the sky she could not see through the roof, "What will my Verd'goten be, I wonder? It feels so shrouded in mystery. I have always been eager to explore the unknown. And as a Shaman, I study the mythical. But the Verd'goten? Aye, it makes me nervous. Perhaps, I think, because I worry that all the time, training, and energy I poured out was for nothing."

Mac O Shenanigans Corbin Vasher

 

[Corbin Vasher]

Spoiler: EQUIPMENT

STARSHIP: Tra'tena SPEEDER: Burbr ARMOR: Burbr'Katya Mk II
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr - Gaan'sacitadr - Dueling Blades

"Contact info? He could just go speak to her when she's finished with whatever meeting that is." Corbin motioned to where Gwyneira Vizsla sat with some stranger and was excitedly going over schematics. "I'd guess taking a commission."
He gulped down more of the drink. His metabolism would burn off the alcohol pretty quickly, but it was certainly enough to start calming him from everything that he had found out in such a short time. Well, short to him. And he was starting to feel more like his usual lively self.
"The verd'goten is different for everyone. Usually tailored by your Alor or Buir specifically to test your abilities. And everyone has different abilities. There's no telling what kind you might have to face. But I have no doubt you will excel. At least you don't have to complete two trials to earn your armor. Having been raised Jensaarai, I also had to complete their trials to become a Defender and earn the right to armor from them. Well, I suppose it's actually debatable whether or not I had to, but I felt it was the Will of the Manda to combine the two into one."

Elise Ahana-Gwyneira Mac O Shenanigans​

 

[Thonn Rokkal]

The deterioration of the city he'd help build hit him hard. He'd been in denial about it for as long as he could, and the ignorance had been blissful. Now, he realized how oblivious he'd been, and the undeniable awareness was still new and fresh. The deteriorating state of Tor Valum hadn't escaped him, even Thonn wasn't ignorant enough to overlook that. Belief was maintained that their problems were temporary and he merely needed to tough it out until that happened. So, he'd continued to serve dutifully and unquestioningly, convinced that matters would improve.

They didn't, and it was clear they might never. Not in his lifetime, at the very least. Thonn had enlisted with hopes of prosperity, but that just wasn't to be had. He'd been a trooper throughout, more concerned with doing his part than the effect it carried. Even if there was a way to turn things around, Thonn was hardly the one to spearhead it. About all he could do now was seek solace in the drinks the tavern served, as did a handful of others who shared the same notion.

"You're….dead." He heard Siv speak to Obran. Thonn, unaware of the context of it all, assumed that the words were fighting words despite the non-threatening tone. Rather than take a seat, Thonn stood behind the barstool, ready to hoist it up and start smashing the moment Siv started throwing punches. But he didn't, and he wouldn't need to. There was no altercation, and Thonn was a touch confused for a moment until he realized the true context and identity of Obran.

Another arrived them, and Thonn turned his attention to him.

"Hail, Vod." He spoke to Kas, giving him a friendly nod as he joined them before finally taking a seat on the stool. The meeting was clearly something to sit down for.

Obran Siv Dragr Kas Varad

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Vulcan Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DEADMAN'S GUN​

They had all changed.

Not all for the better. It was good to see Gwyneira Vizsla 's face amongst the armours as well as Thonn Rokkal 's. It had been too long. And it had been a dark time.

<"Same old, had a big fight on my hands and survived,">

Vren looked back at Vulcan. "Good man, holding our name high." he said. He hoped the one Vulcan faced had been crushed in the good ol' Krayt fashion. The fact that he was here already proved that the Ubese was a true Mando'ad. The kid went on to talk about his Clan.

<"Most went off world, trying to get dignified jobs than languishing here. Those who stayed after the exodus have been getting the .. um ... stink eye.">

Vren snorted cynically before taking a sip of his whiskey. The struggle had truly changed the man for the worse. He had never been a cynic. Now, however...
"All of us who stayed are getting that stink eye, partner. Tatooine's criminal atmosphere was better than this. It's sad, really." he answered.

<"What about you Vren, what happened to you?">

A shadow briefly passed over Vren's face.
"With most of our forces spread so thin, I was more or less alone on Tatooine. The Underground crept back into power on the planet. I couldn't stop it. Where I snuffed out one gathering, ten more sprouted up in its place. Eventually I had to call it after years of trying to fight it. I returned back here now with the hope that not all was lost, but it seems worse here than it did there. More hopeless. Even Tawnita is gone." he said bitterly. "After seeing...this," he waved his hand at the bar and the underhanded glares they were getting. "I'm actually thinking of going back there. At least I wasn't so hated there." He pulled his fingers through his almost-completely grey hair.

Then he looked back at Vulcan.
"You are always welcome to come with me if it gets too much for you here. Help keep the peace there as much as we can. There's a Bantha ranch that I've been eyeing for a while." That would be some life, at least. Staying on the ranch, keeping the peace in the small little town close to the ranch when he can.

"It would be nice to have a deputy like you helping me out with the peace keeping."