Mettle & Gumption, Fortune Favours the Bold! (Mandalorian Crusaders)

[Boethiah]

The Kath Hound bellowed over its pack and the esting canines arched their heads tentatively into the direction of their alpha's lair. This was the nature of Dantooine, the weak gathered around the strong and obeyed its rule so long as they could remain strong. When an alpha grew unwary of the young challengers it would soon find itself displaced and the cycle would begin anew again. For now this particular alpha remained in power; the audacity of new challengers would continue to grow...

"Here is fine." The Host Lord had made her appearance on this paradisaical world within the unyielding territory of The Primeval. A small group of servants laid out a simple wooden table and began to place food and beverage on its surface, two unadorned chairs were placed face-to-face on either end. A Mandalorian warrior proven in combat, Malik Rodarch, was asked to meet the woman here on Dantooine so that they may discuss arrangements pertaining to a pact the two made during the Tournament of the Gods. For some time Anja Aj'Rou had grasped the threat of the Mandalorian power but also the weakness of their lethargic Mandalore who had forsaken old customs. She sought to use this more obstinate man to champion a cause and rightfully take the title of Mandalore from the falsity of usurpation.

With all appearances aside there was far more to do this day than talk, this would also be the day that Clan Rodarch and their loyal allies would build a permanent bastion of power to combat the declining strength of their misguided cousins.

Just beyond the humdrum scene was the vestige of an old fortress; humble ruins of greater days.

[member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Jaster had never visited Dantooine, it was too far from all his trade lines to reach, yet he took his time to reach this planet for this time. He heard rumors of such a thing happening, yet he wished to witness it himself. He was exiled by the current Manda'lore and pushed the hand away when they offere him back. He hates war, yet he knew it was needed to replace the current leader. He had no standing army, he had little influence, but he still wished to seek the new opponent for the title of Manda'lore, and they would be interesting.

He placed himself on a nearby hill, unarmed and in civilian cloths with a portable listening device to listen in on the meeting. He was interested in the negotiations that would happen closely.

 

[Valerie Vizsla]

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"]

Valerie stood a bit away from everyone else, a solitary figure with only a Beskar spear to stand on for support.

Her sister, [member="Bestala Vizsla"] was off in the outer rim with half of their clan. They still did mercenary work in order to sustain themselves. They had to feed the mouths of Clan Vizsla somehow, plus, rotating the men in and out of active combat was always a good idea. It allowed them to remain combat ready for when the real war began.

She frowned slightly.

How soon would that be?

War with the...was it right to call them Mandalorians? Weren't they insisting that they were the real Mandalorians? She frowned slightly, biting her lip. Yes. They were the real Mandalorians, the others were only pretenders, working with Jedi. She scowled at that, shaking her head and white knuckle gripping her spear.

This would be the first step in that war, fortifying Dantooine. The idea had been hers...or she had voiced the opinion to Malik at least. The Terrestrial calm of Dantooine made for the perfect home world. Wide open space and vast expanses of farmland made it an excellent retreat. Though it wasn't her first choice in worlds, it certainly wasn't the last.

Her mind began to wander as the Host came together, wondering briefly what [member="Fennec"] and Bestala were up to.

 

[Lance of Dreams]

Dantooine...

It did not remind him of home. Almost nothing did it seemed. Everything was alien and foreign to him. His father had warned him of this, yet he could hardly bring himself to believe. The circumstances of his arrival, or how he knew of this little known growing uprising, are of little consequence. Being a native Tusken Raider, it was amazing he knew anything beyond Tatooine at all... luckily he had a father that had already gained that privilege to pass on to his son.

Still covered in sand and bandages along with his armor, Hutuun'Kyramud the Younger (otherwise known as Kyr'ika, or Mud), stepped into the halls of their meeting place. Not sure what to expect, other than he will not understand anything. He hardly knew basic, so hopefully they spoke more Mando'a than the ordinary rabble. Not knowing much else to do, Mud held tightly to his own hand crafted durasteel Gaderffii, and stood at attention among the few others assembled here.

Anxiousness seemed to radiate from the young warrior.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Jaster of clan Awaud "]| [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Quietus]

Fennec was doing pretty much what [member="Valerie Vizsla"] might come to expect. There were very few things the mechanic made any habit of, the most noteworthy of which was fixing any and all things electronic. The second most noteworthy? Imbibing alcohol while sitting in a cloud of smoke.

Today she was doing all three. She'd piloted the present Viszlas in to Dantooine and upon their departure to the meeting set about tearing open a side panel in the ship. Viszlas were known for their ancient tech, not having an exorbidant amount of free credits to spare on the latest and greatest ships. A good and bad thing for Fennec - she would always be fixing something ... and she would always be fixing something.

Fen hadn't bothered to tell Valerie that something had gone awry during atmospheric entry. No reason to bother the woman with what was more or less a minor inconvenience. Faulty wiring caused a shortage to auxillary weapon systems.

Not so bad when you flew in allied territory.

Luckily.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

It was a picnic.

Not that Malik Rodarch was opposed to an occasion of food and drink, on the contrary a feast was good for the soul now and again, not so much the waistline but that's why it's a now and again kind of thing.

The only problem here was Mullet, the bottomless pit of an asharl panther. Outside of a combat situation in a realm of food the creature was less of a fierce companion and more of slobbering glutton. They did say that the beast was reflection of the man, but Malik at the very least had much better table manners. With his helm off, and carried under arm the man shot a wary glance towards Mullet.

Much better table manners.

Gaze shifted, moving to the backdrop of the scene, a strategic location to stir deeply engrained feelings of pride, glory and longing in one's soul. The ruins spoke of tales by the fire upon Ilum, a young man engrossed by stories of battle and triumph. He smiled, a small nod to notions of the past and of the future.

Placing his helmet down upon the table alongside the food and drinks, he looked to Anja Aj'Rou before wasting no time in taking a seat. Being an older man in a galaxy of young guns, his bones wouldn't protest sitting down whenever it was offered.

“Ye've got a knack fer scenery, can't deny that.”

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Fennec"]

 

[Boethiah]

Dantooine was by far a more hospitable world than Ilum. The cold's wintry touch claimed ones skin and the frost bit deep until you bled black. A Mandalore born in such icy reaches without fame, fortune, or glory was poetic indeed. It proved that Malik had claimed something and by being out of the limelight all together meant there a certain romance towards making a bold claim and defending it with your own strength. Being Mandalore was not a right by birth, it was a rite of passage through willpower and ambition alone; to be the greatest warrior in the galaxy.

"Dantooine is close to Mandalore the Usurper's territory, they attempted to reclaim this world not too long ago but failed." It may have been a 'picnic' but Anja wasn't really the formal type. Where people would generally introduce themselves to each other she instead went straight to the drawing board.

Looking over to the ruins, her head tilted back and her eyes glanced to the side. "You're going to need a new home." She turned back with soft spoken words. A naked hand reached out gradually for a small metallic cup that contained Caf. The Host Lord grew fond of the beverage ever since discovering it on Dubrillion, although her power had grown considerably she was still foreign to much of the galaxy and its customs. Sipping the liquid she let out a satisfied sigh. "Shall we make the scenery more... Preferable?" Finally she responded to his comment.

Those few servants with her stood idly by and without much deduction everyone could easily tell that they were not soldiers. The lack of personal security in the face of some of the galaxy's most competent fighters was a sure sign of her faith in Malik.

[member="Malik Rodarch"] | [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Fennec"]

 

[Lance of Dreams]

Damn.

Basic.

Straining his primitive mind, he tried to recount the lessons his father had given him on his broken basic. Mud's version of basic would be fairly mangled and sparse. Due to this, he had no idea what was going on. He shuffled his feet and glanced around a bit. There was food on the table, it appeared anyway. Though there were only the two leaders seated as far as he knew. He did not know if it was appropriate for a savage to sit in the presence of civilized folk. He was in no hurry to figure that out, and did not hesitate to make the decision he would not sit down while the leaders spoke. He would be at attention until ordered to do something.

It didn't stop him from shuffling though... probably rather irritating to anyone directly near him.

He was hungry though.

...

He began to walk towards the table to grab a slice of what looked like meat or something, and took out a beskad to tear it off into chunks his helmet could take for him to eat.

Very noisy.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Jaster of clan Awaud "]| [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Malik Rodarch"] | [member="Fennec"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

[OOC: My greatest apologies. I will do my very best to prevent anybody having to wait this long on me again.]

Sat at the table, Malik waved farewell to middle-class table mannered and dropped two massive elbows onto the table before him. Opening his mouth to respond to her question the man found himself interrupted, or rather distracted.

Forward came the Tusken, proudly dressed in that familiar garb. He wondered if the man moved to interject upon the beginning of their conversation.

Given that a large portion of Rodarch's life was spent playing the mercenary game upon Tattooine he was more than just familiar with Sand People. He held no qualms with them. One or two scrapes here or there but Malik more often than not made friends through fighting rather than enemies. They were a formidable people, and he could respect that.

Not to mention he once had his coccyx fractured by the hard wallop of a gaffi stick.

When the man went for the meat and began to carve and devour with great vigour Malik let out a hearty laugh. Men needed to eat, it was basic instinct.

He cleared his throat.

[“Hungry? Me too.”]

Being a man awful with technology Malik Rodarch had spent a lot of his life avoiding interaction with such, he never used a droid for translation in his life, trying to learn at least some of the language of the land. His Tusken was rough and primitive, it being a very complex language to learn but broken Tusken was better than none.

[“Seat. All men welcome my table.”]

After Malik's display of guttural phlegm he turned attentions back to Anja, still very aware of Mullet skulking around the edge of the table, still eyeing up the food.

“Sorry 'bout that, where were we?”

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Fennec"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"] | [member="Jaster of clan Awaud"]

 

[Boethiah]

Audacity? No. Stupidity? Maybe. Bold? Definitely.

The Tusken approached the table with a disregard for the conversation being taken place.

Did I say you -- Her thoughts stopped there; she looked towards Malik's reaction and realized this was little more than gumption. In that there was respect. A quiet sigh escaped her lips; only visible by the way her chest rose and fell slowly. No longer bothered by the sudden display, she went back to the business at hand. "If you're going to ---" She paused unexpectedly, her fingers went to her bottom lip and curled in a soft touch.

I could've sworn I felt blood.

Trying to not make a scene, "--to make a foothold why not here?" She gestured to the foundation behind her; within an eyes view of Malik.

Still, what she felt couldn't escape her mind. The Host Lord isn't easily fooled and now her own body seemed to disobey her.

[member="Malik Rodarch"] | [member="Valerie Vizsla"] | [member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] | [member="Fennec"] | [member="Taneith Vizsla"]

 

[Quietus]

Music blared from the inside of the craft now settled like a lump on the landscape of this strange planet. Fennec had little care for what currently went on over-yonder and she highly doubted they had even less care for what was taking place over here. It wasn't her party to attend, not by a long shot, and despite the good smells lingering on the air she couldn't be bothered to make a social appearance.

That wasn't her style.

Much like most things, if it seems to be too simple - it probably ain't. Faulty wiring had a bad habit of breeding within itself, spreading it's technological germs. Having torn through a good deal of the interior and made quite the mess, Fennec followed her nose to the belly of the beast and was now shoulder-deep in oil, grime, grease, and all manner of guttural goodness one might find in an old ship like this one.

Vintage charm always came with its drawbacks, much like bad farts came with the elderly.

 

[Lance of Dreams]

[member="Malik Rodarch"], [member="Anja Aj'Rou"], @Others

[“Hungry? Me too.”]

Kyr'ika stopped his munching a moment. That man was speaking to him... and he understood him! For one thing he realized now he had become an interruption, which was slightly bothersome but he would choose not to worry about it much. He hardly understood the flustered leader of whoever it was that was backing them.

[“Seat. All men welcome my table.”]

How convenient! He took up a seat where had been standing, resuming his snack carving.

["Tell her food is good, if you would Mand'alor"]

Much happier, the alien rested among the leaders, feasting among them as his father may have done. His only worry, was how it would be like to fight other Mandalorians... they were being led by a false man, but they were still his father's people. Not yet his people really, more of a Tusken out of the sand than a Mandalorian in his armored boots.

He was probably just going to send the family greeting card at the end of his Gaffi stick.

 

[Valerie Vizsla]

[member="Hutuun'Kyramud"] @Fennec @Anja Aj'Rou [member="Malik Rodarch"]

Valerie stood behind the table.

She decided not to sit. Not because of an air of superiority, not because she did not want to, but because she could observe better from here. Her helmet was off, clipped to a small part of her belt. Her eyes scanned those that sat at the table, and her hand twisted upon her spear.

No one had tried to take that from her.

The Siegemistress briefly wondered why she was here and not Bestala. Her sister had always been the better negotiator of the two of them, and she the better fighter. Yet it was Bestala that ran around the outer rim, and she stuck here within this meeting room.

Her eyes drifted to the head of Clan Rodarch, Malik.

“Dantooine will do.” Her voice suddenly broke through the clamor. Strong and confident, yet a hint of fragility to it that denoted her small stature. It came with an authority however that made people listen, and as those at the table gazed at her, they quickly realized who and what she was. A Vizsla.

“It is not the best fortress world.” It wasn't at all, but it could be. “But it will do. Wide open plains and curved mountains make for good fortress lands. We will need to build a hold. A Citadel.”