Mando'ad Draar Digu

[Atiniir Starrider]

[member="Isley Verd"]
Atiniir Starrider trudged off the shuttle with his head spinning. No less than half a day ago he had discovered that his father, who he had never known, was a mercenary, and not just any mercenary, but a Mandalorian Supercommando.

I don't even know what a Mandalorian is! Atiniir thought to himself, as he looked once more at the coordinates to the cantina provided to him by his father's best friend, a man who only called himself Hunter. He supposed that he could blame his mother for never telling him about his father, though he had been only two years old when she'd died. But he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his mother had tried to keep the Mandalorians away from him. Even when she'd known it was his father's last wish for him to be a Mandalorian, she'd still run off and gotten herself captured. Then she'd died.

Atiniir was glad that he had Hunter though. Hunter, if that was even his real name, had told him lots of stories about his father; the stories had been one of the reasons Atiniir had decided to go against his mother's path and follow that of his father. He wanted to be like the vibrosword swinging, face-punching bad*** his father was. Hunter had unfortunately said little about Mandalorians themselves, but he had been late for a rendezvous with a convoy he was escorting, so had had to leave. Now all Atiniir had was a set of coordinates to a cantina that hopefully had a Mandalorian in it, and a head swimming with so many questions it was nearly unbearable.

Finally, Atiniir reached the cantina, a relatively decent joint on Nar Shaddaa's Promenade called the Slippery Slopes, and began looking around for someone in armor carrying a big gun. Atiniir was bareheaded, his toussled black hair with teased up bangs free to move. He wasn't wearing the armor he put on for pirate raids, instead he was wearing a basic shirt, pants, and a closed vest with pockets. A blaster pistol and long vibrosword were strapped to his hips. His piercing blue eyes scanned the area, leaving no rock unturned. It was about time he got some of his questions answered.

 

[Darth Metus]

There were countless forms of currency in the Galaxy.

In the days of old, the Republic credit seemed to carry weight throughout the stars. While there were few holdouts on the fringes of the known universe, the credit was pretty much "good" everywhere. However, given the Gulag Plague, the subsequent Darkness, and current Chaotic state of the Galaxy...money was a toss-up. Practically every sovereign government had some form of currency to call their own. Whether it be the One Sith, the neutered Republic, or any of the other national powers: there was nothing that could be considered "standard." As such, when it came to the exchange of goods and services, people had to get creative. Some used jewels, rare materials, and the like...whilst others paid with information.

And that was why the Alor of Clan Verd found himself on Nar Shaddaa.

In recent history, he and a comrade had been following the trail of an exodus. A literal fleet of some of the Galaxy's most terrifying vessels had practically vanished into the ether; and now Isley was attempting to piece together what had transpired. To this end, he followed a wide variety of leads and traveled all over the karking place. Today just so happened to bring him to one of the "nicer" parts of Nar Shaddaa. It was here that Isley was set to meet someone who claimed to have some information...but, nothing in the Galaxy was free. Information was the currency, and Isley's skills as a warrior was the price.

Upon arrival, the Mandalorian stuck out among the rabble. Due to the world's proximity to the Techno Union, seeing a man garbed in beskar'gam was somewhat of a rarity. Bounties were staged from time to time, but none of the United Clans was going out of their way to visit the Hutt Moon. As such, the armored man turned a few heads upon crossing the room; yet thought nothing of it. He was here on business, after all. The bar was his destination, and its Rodian tender was his contact. Easing himself down, he gave the "gentlemen" a nod before uttering a seemingly irrelevant order.

"Black Ale. On the rocks."

To the bystander, it was simply booze. To the Rodian, it was code. Of course, he went about pouring Isley the drink before getting down to it.

"Took ya long enough."

"One does not simply cut through Union space."

"Eh. True."

The Rodian looked around, as if making sure they weren't being listened to. Little did both men know that Isley was exactly what a wondering soul was searching for.

[member="Atiniir Starrider"]

 

[Atiniir Starrider]

[member="Isley Verd"]
When Atiniir saw the Mandalorian, he knew that he was the one. He was in awe at once. So this is what his father had been, and what he would be soon. With no hesitation, he walked up to the man.

"Hey you," he said in the usual accent of Corellian spacers, "You familiar with a guy named Hunter? He said that there would be a Mandalorian in this cantina I could talk to about training."

 

[Darth Metus]

As the Rodian finished his visual sweep of the room, the Mandalorian extended a hand towards his beverage. His offhand lifted his helm, ever so slightly, as to expose his lips to the glass. Yet before he could so much as enjoy a sip, Isley was interrupted...and by extension, so was his meeting. "Hey you." Was the greeting, followed by a bit regarding a so-called Hunter. At once, the Mandalorian dropped his helm; instinct raging through his veins. He did not need to reach for one of the blasters at his waist, nor did he attempt to. Instead, Isley centered his mind. Focus absolute.

He did not feel anything tremendous from the man, which typically meant one of two things. Either this was a Master of the Force who could suppress his presence, or it was a sign that the young man was not a threat. Not to him, anyway. Regardless, Isley maintained his focus; ready to unleash Hell if the situation called for it.

The Rodian was not so subtle and reached underneath the bar. There was a blaster there, just in case. He didn't draw it...yet...and Isley turned in his seat.

"I don't know anyone by that name, sorry." he began. "And I haven't been approached regarding training strangers. Just who are you, boy?"

[member="Atiniir Starrider"]

 

[Atiniir Starrider]

[member="Isley Verd"]
"The name's Atiniir," Atiniir said, "Atiniir Starrider. People call me Star." Atiniir wondered if this was the Mandalorian Hunter had told him about. The way Hunter had talked about him, Atiniir had assumed that he would be expecting him. Oh well.

"My father was Kal Starrider if that helps," Atiniir said.

 

[Darth Metus]

Starrider...Starrider...Why was that name familiar?

Isley blinked for a moment, contemplating where he had heard that surname before. However, just as a name formed on the tip of his tongue, the boy filled in the blank. Kal Starrider. Back in the "glory" days, Kal had been apart of the very same scouting party Isley earned his Initiate title in. Taris. Back before the One Sith was even an idea. Back when the Republic actually stood for something. Back when...the Clans had a Sole Ruler.

"You're Kal's boy? Well chit, pull up a stool!" Although veiled behind his helm, there was a grin upon the Mandalorian's face. The Son of a Vode, eh? And one looking for training...odd..."You're looking for training? I'm surprised to hear that young man. One your age...Hell, you should have passed your Verd'goten by now. Kal drop the ball?"

The it hit him. Was.

"Wait. Your father...He isn't...Damn it all. How did he go? Tell me it wasn't the Sith."

[member="Atiniir Starrider"]

 

[Atiniir Starrider]

[member="Isley Verd"]
"It's, well, sort of complicated," Atiniir sad in response to the Mandalorian's first question, "He, wasn't really around when I was growing up, an my mom...well...let's just say she didn't agree with the lifestyle." The whole situation confused Atiniir just as much as it certainly confused this Mandalorian. As far as he could tell his mother had married a Mandalorian Supercommando, given birth to his son, and even given Atiniir a Mandalorian name, only to forget it all when one day his father didn't come home.

"I'm not quite sure of all the details," Atiniir said when the Mandalorian asked him about his father, "I was only two years old when he died and my mom ran away from everything affiliated with Mandalorians, and Hunter didn't really have time to tell me the whole story. All I know is that he was on a job, fighting as a mercenary, and got shot." Atiniir was recanting the tale as best he could. For fifteen years the Shadow Runner pirates had kept this all a secret from him, following the last wishes of his mother. Meanwhile Hunter had been combing the galaxy, looking for his best friend's son so he could fulfill Atiniir's father's last wishes.

"Look man," Atiniir said, "Hunter said that my father's dying wish was that I become a Mandalorian to honor our family name. Hunter said you can help me do that."