Laphisto
High Commander of the Lilaste Order
Word had reached Laphisto only a few days earlier that another Mandalorian had entered the ranks of the Lilaste Order. The news had earned little more than a raised brow. Mandalorians were hardly unheard of within the Order, but each carried their own traditions, loyalties, and understanding of what it meant to wear beskar. Some adapted quickly. Others struggled to reconcile military discipline with the customs they had been raised alongside. When the request for a sparring session arrived, however, it came as no surprise. If there was one thing Laphisto had learned over the centuries, it was that Mandalorians preferred to learn about one another through crossed blades long before lengthy conversations.
The appointed training room had already been cleared by the time he arrived. Thick durasteel walls bore the familiar scars of countless training sessions, while inactive remote drones rested in recessed charging alcoves around the perimeter. Weapon racks lined one wall beside a collection of practice blades, staffs, and shock weapons, their orderly arrangement broken only by the occasional mark left from years of use. Bright overhead lighting reflected faintly across the polished floor, interrupted only by the circular sparring mat occupying the center of the room. and so he sat and waited for
Nolan ork
to arrive
The appointed training room had already been cleared by the time he arrived. Thick durasteel walls bore the familiar scars of countless training sessions, while inactive remote drones rested in recessed charging alcoves around the perimeter. Weapon racks lined one wall beside a collection of practice blades, staffs, and shock weapons, their orderly arrangement broken only by the occasional mark left from years of use. Bright overhead lighting reflected faintly across the polished floor, interrupted only by the circular sparring mat occupying the center of the room. and so he sat and waited for
Nolan ork
to arrive