Faction New Beginnings | The Enclave

[The Quartermaster]

R E B I R T H

The Enclave​

Mandalorians, by nature, were not a people of peace. They were born to pillage and plunder, to conquer the galaxy. Fighting and war was in their blood.

But, as a consequence, their blood was spilled often.

Over the centuries as Mandalorian civilization had recouped from the Dark Age, multiple Empires and crusades led by just-as-many Mand'alors had severely taxed the population of Mandalore and her clans. Battle after battle; wars against almost every major faction; infighting and strife that had culminated in civil wars; there were too many examples where thousands, if not millions, of Mandalorian warriors, had died in combat. Such a death was honorable. But dogmatic teachings, like all else, eventually gave way to pragmatic reality.

The breaking point came when the United Clans of Mandalore was betrayed by its closest ally, the Sith. Sith-Imperial forces invaded Mandalore in a sudden move, their lightning tactics winning the day against the already-taxed forces of Mandalore. What followed was one of the worst atrocities known to the Mando'ade. Millions upon millions of Mandalorians were slaughtered, forced to relocate, and forced to give up their culture; their language, their way of life. The Sith were determined to completely eradicate the Mandalorian people and even renamed Mandalore to Moridinae in an attempt to erase Mandalore from the history of the galaxy.

But for all their efforts, for all the death that the Sith caused, the Mandalorians were a people who were no stranger to war. No stranger to loss. And even though they were few, there were those who survived the collapse. Those that made it off-world in time, those that had been in other parts of the galaxy, the clans and houses that had not been living on Mandalore. They were a people fractured, scattered across the galaxy.

But they were not extinct. Not yet.

On Roon, the birthplace of the Taung, the original Mandalorians, a group of those who'd lost everything -- their homes, their clans, their people -- labored in secret. They tunneled into the landscape, creating a vast network of hidden rooms and halls that rivaled that of a city. And when they had finished, they sent out a quiet message to those who would still be listening.

Come to Roon. You will be safe here.

The time had come for the Mandalorian people to rebuild once more. They would do it in secret, away from the eyes of the galaxy and those that would hunt them down. But slowly and surely, the great warriors of Mandalore would be rebirthed into a new generation. And once more, the glory of Mandalore would shine throughout the galaxy.

Spoiler: Objective

• A feast has been laid and coordinates sent to any and all Mandalorians who are still out there. Come to the Enclave and meet your fellow brothers and sisters, and join in the celebration of a new era.

Spoiler: Reward

• x10 Shards for Participation

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[Zurin]

Zurin limped infront of the Enclave door. He had been on Roon for several days. Trying to survive. It's a hard life as a Mando. The ex-clone strapped his EE-3 to his back and banged on the door.

 

[Siv Dragr]

F E A S T

Tag: Akshae Numek | Hinah Dragr | Kelisea Dragr | Zurin

Siv had not been on Mandalore when it fell. He hadn't been there to fight back the Sith, to drive them off of his homeworld. He hadn't been there to fight for his home, his clan, his people.

He hadn't been there to watch them die.

His Clan had been one that had kept to the old ways; they had not associated themselves with the centralized Mandalorian factions that had come and gone over the ages, and instead had kept the mercenary lifestyle of their ancestors. Some considered them to be dar'manda, but they were never molested; perhaps it was the insignificant size of the small clan, or of its long history of keeping largely to themselves.

Offworld on some bounty, Siv learned of the attack on Mandalore personally; all he'd seen was a glimpse of the ruined planet from orbit before Sith-Imperial forces had chased him back into hyperspace. Since then, he'd had no contact with his people; he hadn't even known if there were any Mandalorians left. His life had become a monotonous one, bounty after bounty sustaining him so he'd be able to get enough hyperfuel to make it to the next system.

He had been all alone. Until a job on Tatooine had, by some miraculous coincidence, led him to two survivors from his clan. Since then, they had kept in touch as they went on their separate ways. But since the collapse, Siv had never dared to dream of a day when Mandalorians would be able to gather once more, unafraid, not looking behind their backs.

Until that is, he'd gotten a message from the Enclave.

Now he was on Roon. He knew some about the planet from his education -- it was the birthplace of the Taung, the original race of Mandalorians -- but he had never actually stepped on its surface before. Now, as he stood on Roon, he looked towards a large set of doors that had to be the entrance into the Enclave. His cape whipping in the wind, and Siv's breathing was audible even through his helmet. Through those doors would be the first time that Siv had seen Mandalorians other than himself, and the two on Tatooine, since he'd left.

He took enough time to gather his confidence before he strode towards the doors.

As he walked up the steps to the large doors, he was surprised to see another warrior standing there, in armor whose style was not familiar to Siv, but had some traditional Mandalorian elements to it nonetheless. An old carbine was strapped on the warriors back, and his knock echoed loudly on the door. Slowly, in response, the door drew open, and Siv brushed past the warrior into the covert. He wasn't exactly ready to make friends yet.

Walking through various hallways, Siv eventually found himself in what had to be a dining hall, laid out for a feast. Scattered groups of Mandalorians sat at an assortment of long tables, trestles straining over a variety of foods.The traditional spread brought back memories of Mandalore to Siv, and he sat down at an empty seat, away from the other people. The food smelled delicious, but he did not eat; it was the way of his clan not to remove their helmets in front of anyone except their own clan members, and even know Siv honored the code.

It was all he had left.
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[Haastal Haran]

T H I S IS T H E W A Y

In the current Galaxy there were many like Haastal. He was a Mandalorian that had never been to Manda'yaim. Not once in his life had he stepped foot on the ancestral homeworld of the Mandalorians. No, he had not been born under the race of people who treated war as its central facet in life. His homeworld was far less important and entirely forgettable. It did not matter. He was Mandalorian. He wore the armor, he spoke the language, he practiced the Resol'nare to near-perfection these days. He had as much a right to be named Mandalorian as any who were born on the ancient world.

So when he heard there were Mandalorians gathering outside of the thumb of the Sith Empire or even the cowl of The Confederacy, this piqued his interest. The Mandalorian people were known to base themselves on Mandalore and at times Concord Dawn, yet now his adopted people were meeting elsewhere. A hidden place that Haastal only ever heard referred to as The Enclave. Supposedly it was a safe-haven where he and his people could practice their ways unmolested and learn more of their history while freely practicing their customs.

As he walked through Roon he felt uncertain. He had come alone, not even bringing his mate, Redd as he could not risk her life in the event it was a trap. His hand was firmly resting on his blaster pistol as he gazed at the metallic doors that laid before him. His eyes were narrowed beneath the visor of his buy'ce, yet against his instincts he stepped forward.

The doors parted for the Mandalorian, his grip on his pistol slowly washing away as he exhaled. He remembered the words that his predecessor, the real Haastal, had muttered to him with his dying breath. "This is the way."

With nothing more to be said, no more hesitation, he stepped forward and made his way into the halls.

Where he was worried he may fall into some bounty hunter's trap, there was only a large hall with music and the smell of prime food prepared for the meeting. When Haastal entered the hall his eyes befell the other Vode who had gathered. Like him, many of them wore their Beskar'gam with pride, enjoying the evening and speaking with each other of the various battles they had all fought in their time. Underneath his helmet, Haastal felt his lips curl into a smile, no more like a smirk, while he chuckled a bit at the display. "Maybe this won't be too bad..." He said, before making his way to one of the tables and resting down in it's seat.

Pulling his helmet from his head, the Mandalorian set the bucket on the table before grabbing a flagon of ale left for the guests. He drank it, smirking as he did.

The Quartermaster Zurin Siv Dragr

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[Zahim Markona]

Tags: Siv Dragr , The Quartermaster , Haastal Haran , Zurin

A hooded figure stood in the hall, seeming watch those who came and went. He was dressed in very archaic style armor, harkening back to the Neo-Crusaders under Mandalore the Ultimate. Yet, it also seemed to combine the look of a blacksmith and a priest. The silent figure was known as Tay'haai - the archivist. He had given no other name and refused to remove his helm in the presence of others. All that was known was that he was male, humanoid, and in his fifties.

He had no real title among this Enclave. He had appeared as one of the first to join in the Enclave. He quickly found his niche within the forge of the Enclave. Some of the younger ones called him "Forgemaster", a name he took with humble indifference. He merely saw it as pulling his weight by helping repair and shape the armor and weapons of those who were in need. He held a large, two handed power hammer at his side. It was both a weapon and occasionally as an aide in walking in his older years.

While mostly resigned in the forge, he would occasionally act as mentor and peacekeeper if need be. He saw the Enclave as a place for Mandalorians to mend the wounds after the Sith's betrayal, and perhaps even rebuild. He would not tolerate anymore infighting, especially on these grounds.

The old blacksmith seemed to stare stoically from behind his visor, watchful on this new venture for his people.

 

[Kes Stag]

Location: Roon
Objective: Hunt and Observe
Tags: Open

Kes remembered when he heard the news of Mandalore's fall. He was high off his mind on spice on Nar Shaada, days he is not proud of. But he also remembers laughing. A sentiment he still keeps with him today. The great and mighty clans of Mandalore betrayed by their closest allies. Kes despised the clans, the zealots who exiled his parents, dooming them to a fate worse than death and ever since his return to the Mandalorian life he has not forgotten. Since the fall the Mandalorians remained a scattered people, they reminisced the days of the united Clans and hired many like Kes to assist them in their little crusade. While he went along with them he was incentivised by one thing, credits. That is also the exact reason he'd come here today.

Kes watched the entrance to the Enclave from a vantage point, hidden under a piece of tarp coloured and textured the same as the landscape of Roon. He watched down the scope of his H.T.E Sniper Rifle as those below made their way into the Enclave. He had heard the call to Roon but he had arrived for a completely different reason. He looked at each of their weapons, identifying their model and how much each would fetch on the market. Ever since the fall of Mandalore Mandalorian weapons become harder to come by creating a lovely little industry in acquiring and reselling Mandalorian weapons. Would his last employer approve? No. Would other Mandalorians approve? Still no. This was not the way, hunting fellow Mandalorians for a profit but to Kes, this was the way of the outcast, the Dar'manda and the opportunist.

He laid there, waiting for the opportunity to strike, waiting for any lone individual to appear. So far only a few had come across, either wary enough about the meeting to slip past Kes' line of sight or in numbers, throwing away the opportunity to go down and collect his bounty. But Kes didn't mind. He had all the time in the world and if this didn't work, he still adorned his Beskar and could easily fit in the enclave, providing the perfect opportunity to pocket any weapons laying around for himself. But for now, he'd stick with the Sniper, he liked shooting far more than pickpocketing.

 

[Zurin]

Zurin peered through the door with his EE-3 raised. He suspected a trap. A safe place? Was that possible for a Mandalorian? Hopefully! Zurin flipped the light on his modified clone helmet, he had placed several thin plates of what little beskar he was given to make it look Mandalorian. Zurin no clan no ties to Mandalore! Just a clone lucky to be found by the Mandalorians. An honorary member? Was that what he was? Maybe! He tried to convince himself that he was one of them. Many told him he was one of them as long as he swore by the creed and kept it.

Zurin walked down the dark corridor. Carefully observing everything. Suddenly he heard someone walking behind him. Zurin quickly rounded the corner turnrd off his ligh and hid behind some metal crates. Should he ambush whoever it was? Perhaps it was a fellow Mandalorian! That would be good news! But what if it was a sith agent or worse, an actual sith. Only time would tell. Zurin double checked his gear and waited for whoever it was.

 

[Aria Nox]

Mandalore. The planet. The man. The legend. All of it was romantic, but Aria hadn't grown up on that rock, met that person, or stared starry-eyed in wonder up at some monument that spoke of the Mandalorian's Manifest Destiny and Great Victories or whatever entertained little children of Mandalore. No, she'd been a humble child of a remote Clan that didn't much mind keeping to itself. Maybe they didn't wage interstellar wars in an effort to conquer the galaxy in search of foes that would one day defeat them. They'd had plenty of battles to keep them sharp and train the men and women that came to them. Being forced to step lightly with the Sith Empire's minions scurrying all around them only forced them to grow stronger in remaining unseen until they wished to reveal themselves.

Of course, that was then. Before everything had been lost. No, not Mandalore. Before that. Though losing Mandalore had certainly limited the number of places Aria would ever call home. Limited them to none. Her ship made do all this time, however, and the young woman had no complaints. The solitude was nice -- afforded her the peace and quiet necessary to build whatever she needed or wanted. Blackmarket (unregistered) weapons and gear fetched a very good price if you knew who to talk to.

So why had she come here? Why The Enclave? Because it sounded like an opportunity. A gathering of Mandalorians would be in need of weapons, gear, and perhaps even works of beskar -- though the latter she'd keep to herself unless it became clear they wouldn't lock her in a forge. Trust? People she didn't know that preferred to keep their helmets on more often than not? Sure. With enough time. Perhaps a duel or two.

Aria lifted her visor to peer ahead as she came to a stop in the hallway. She'd been fiddling with her gauntlet interface when she felt someone watching. Her hand drifted back over to the disruptor pistol at her hip as she called out, "If you're looking for a fight, you've found one, but you won't survive long enough to enjoy the food. Step out into the open, and maybe I'll show you to where everyone's gathering." Hopefully Zurin would respond. Otherwise, she'd take the fight to them and today really wasn't supposed to turn bloody. Sometimes blood happened.

Late? Certainly. After she'd entered the place, she'd taken to exploring the hallways. Anywhere someone didn't bar her from exploring anyway. Food, drink, and staring silently at once another was great and all, but Aria wanted to learn things about the place they weren't going to put in the speech they'd use to convince everyone to stay.

Tags: Open

 

[Zurin]

Zurin stepped out of his hiding place but stayed in the shadows. He couldn't make out who or what the Dark figure was.

"Are you friend or foe?"

Zurin un-sheathed his kukri. But made no move to attack. If anyone was going to make the first move it wouldn't be him.

 

[Caeos Prahl]

// Tags : Open : Siv Dragr Zurin Haastal Haran Zahim Markona Kes Stag Aria Nox

“Even if it’s a rumor, even if it proves fruitless. It doesn’t change that I have to at least try to find them..”​

There were always whispers lining the walls of the covert, and Caeos had strained to listen in as the months had stretched on after the fall of Mandalore. It wasn’t that she was nosey, least of all a gossip..but she had found the lack of news outside the war aggravating and it served as a break from the monotony of the day. She had kept her helm down, minding requisition orders-at a loss what else to do. The halls seemed busier, but the shadow of the Empire loomed in the air still. It wasn’t her place to speak in those matters, she was young yet-barely worthy of the title of verd herself..so she listened.

She knew the battles ahead were out the forefront of the covert’s mind, benefiting from the war path marked by the New Imperial Order. Diverting attention seemed unlikely, but every day she made her trek to the workshops. A part of her hoped wistfully that amongst the tide of bodies, between the new Sons and Daughters that a familiar helm might emerge. Or perhaps she would stumble upon someone who knew of more survivors from the fall. She had found most warriors eager to sharpen their blade instead of conversation, and Caeos resigned herself to her work. Though she desired justice as much as they, Caeos had just grown weary of it all the same. She didn’t like talking about the war, not with young ones around. She had just wanted things to go back to normal.

It was a childish want. Their people were splintered and stretched far across the galaxy, some days it seemed plausible some of her clan may have survived and other days hopeless. Even Khudak had written off her own, but she wasn’t eager to follow the path of her vod. Finding out the exact toll done to Mandalore itself had dampened her expectation; to know it was reduced to char and rock. She remembered the Legionnaires in the streets well enough, the fires. The land would not recover surely and Caeos was left to her imagination. She had to seek out an elder for wisdom. Her unease served to make her tasks, her craft fallible more often than not. She had hunted, in hopes that might change things but it hadn’t. Caeos hadn’t been ready, and her hand still shook when she held her knife but war did not make concessions.

Maybe she was hiding behind the forge, behind her tools and the relative safety Echoiy'la had offered. Caeos could have been overlooked amongst the throngs of warriors, many of whom would likely not think to question her place as she provided too in the way of her work. But Caeos had taken one long over the quiet hearth and halls after returning from her first round on the front and knew her restlessness was not settled.

The girl didn’t stop to think of the consequences when she boarded the next ship off world, knowing well the argument she left standing between her and her sole ally in the enclave. The talk of Roon had circulated through the ranks and had been met with skepticism. Mostly ignorant to the ways of politics. She hadn’t understood the reverence the planet held either until she had spoken up for once- had learned it’s history. It seemed no better place to search then. The journey through spaceport and aboard lonely civilian freighters spent thereafter with mounting worry, a fellow Mandalorian wouldn’t tarnish their honor with deceit all the same it could be an enemy.

Caeos had to put trust in her own hands she decided, she had been stubborn enough to set out on the path and peering down at her younger company in tow-her sister. Caeos pressed two fingers to the front of her helm, signalling to Ketra reassurance as they began the trek when they had made it planetside; a secret exchanged between them. Withdrawing from the prying eyes of the local population. With Ketra’s sharp eyes and her hammer, they searched high and low-following what little leads there were. This hunt for their own was as much their duty as was following the Resol'nare, and sometimes it was a path taken alone. Caeos reasoned they had made it far together before they had been Found. Thus this journey was nothing, and this time they were armed.

The metal doors were something that had stood out and Caeos had approached alone first. She was a lot of things but she wasn’t going to get the kid caught up in a bad scrap. Though she had pressed a blaster into her sister’s hands, telling her to shoot straight if something had happened. Caeos had found herself face to face with an older verd, not a mark or inkling of familaitary to him and she had stumbled over the words of greeting. Her Buir would have been embarrassed, but she stood tall under the scrutinizing look. Watching his hand from behind the cracked screen, tense-was this where she got shot? When he answered in turn, banging one heavy gauntlet on the doors Caeos released a heavy breath. Flagging down her sister quickly after.

Eager to get out of the open, when her sister raced up-Caeos ripped the pistol out of Ketra’s hands and stuffing it in the side of her belt. Caeos offered the warrior a polite nod, as if the whole thing hadn’t taken place. The pair of them slinked down the halls-following the distant noise, peeking around the corners. She tried not to linger, let alone stare at the others..Too many different crests and different shrouds, they were strangers here and the girl knew well when to keep her head down. They had never lived in such secrecy until they had come to the enclave of the Sons, but she knew it was a matter of survival for all. It was by sheer luck they stumbled into the hall laden with food and libation. It reminded her of a proper hearth over the likes of an outpost. The clusters of warriors all around however made her nervous, the tug at her gauntlet drawing her out of the entrance of the communal space. She had to pay more attention and glancing down at Ketra, the pair of them shuffled aside.

“That’s alot of food,” Ketra whispered fiercely and Caeos hummed in agreement; the thought of a hot meal was enticing. Feeling another sharp tug at her arm, she swiveled her helmet down looking at the girl. “Can I..? You know?”

They had been pinching at credits and living off rations during the journey and long before that. Caeos watched Ketra’s fingers curl around the lip of her modest helmet. They weren't strangers to the ways but Caeos knew she was asking for permission. She was about the right age to take up the oath-to prepare for her own hunt but that too had been interrupted by the likes of the Empire. However Ketra wasn’t bound by tradition yet and Caeos tilted her head-gesturing toward the tables.

“You’re fine, you know this,” Caeos said, holding out her hand as Ketra pried the bucket off, leaving it in her care. Watching her from the corner of her eye, Caeos picked her way along the room-claiming a sparsely occupied bench to rest.

 

[Mig Gred]

Caeos Prahl Zurin Siv Dragr Haastal Haran Zahim Markona Kes Stag Aria Nox

Mig looked out as the repurposed slaver ship landed on Roon. He turned to its pilot, his sister Vaux Gred , who had just gotten up from the flight seat. She quickly grabbed her custom Taryc’kal, and the electro-whip she’s taken from the ship’s old operators, while Mig had already have his odd Trayc’kad, along with the Echani Vibrosword and Sith vibroknife he kept as well. He looked over at Vaux as she shook her head.

“Why this stupid hunk of metal again? Shouldn’t it be mid-conversion by now?”

“Call it a hunch, plus while these are Vod... I’m still cautious.” The pilot just sighed before heading for the exit ramp, with her brother following suit. The pair’s armors would be noticeable. Mig’s was light looking, with thinner and fewer plates, while Vaux was basically just a Mandalorian version of a flight suit.
As the pair stepped out, Mig stopped. He felt like something was wrong, but it was never his forte to know specifics. He looked out, simply nodding to himself before he sped up to catch up with his sister. He looked to see the various others that had come, from seemingly every walk of life. He then looked at the food, chuckling a bit.

“I haven’t seen this much food in a long time.”

 

[Aria Nox]

"I don't know you. You don't know me. If you're here, however, you're either vod, or you're dead. Tayli'bac?" [Okay?] Aria had to believe this place's security wasn't so lax that scum managed to sneak in unnoticed. So this guy, Zurin , had to be vod, or someone that knew one and might be worthy of their collective time.

Their time. That was funny. Aria was still new herself and hadn't affirmed whether this was the place for her. Spent a great deal of time on her own lately. Might only be setting herself up for feeling an overwhelming sense of loss again if everyone here were butchered as he Clan had been.

Well, Mandalorians didn't believe in succumbing to fear, so more than likely she'd give this place a shot. Assuming whoever was in the shadows didn't force her to shoot them dead, and the Enclave get pissy because it hadn't been in a dueling ring or something. Unannounced people got shot. Things happened.

"Come out where I can see you, or you will insult me suggesting you will try to kill me before I know who you are." Stealth was fine, but when it came to killing someone didn't they have the right to know who, how, or why? At least one of them. To die completely ignorant of how you ended up in the afterlife was too cruel.

Tag: The Quartermaster | Caeos Prahl | Zurin | Siv Dragr | Haastal Haran | Zahim Markona | Kes Stag | Mig Gred

 

[Redd]

WOLF​

Tags: Haastal Haran || Aria Nox | The Quartermaster | Caeos Prahl | Zurin | Siv Dragr | Zahim Markona | Kes Stag | Mig Gred​

The wolf had been recuperating from their adventures on Mustafar. In fact, she very much did not sleep very well due to the fear of slipping back into a coma. She remembered it vividly and Redd did not want to return back to that. However, she had mostly recovered from the inhalation of the deadly toxins on Mustafar. Now though, she was jarred awake and reached for Haastal, but he was not there. Softly she growled as she lifted her chin to scent the air. He had been there, she knew, because she had fallen asleep next to him, but his scent wasn’t fresh and nothing within the ship suggested that he was still in the ship.

Slowly she rose from the bed and walked towards the armoury where she opened his locker and saw that his armour was gone. She growled and punched the wall beside the locker, only to cross over to her own locker and quickly began to don her own beskar’gam. Redd finally slipped the buy’ce over her head and quickly exited the ship. Lifting her nose she scented the air and began to follow her mate's scent. One that she lost once or twice due to the crowd thickening in some sections, only to find it and continue along the path.

Why did he leave without me? Redd asked as she racked her brain trying to work out as to why he would possibly leave her behind. The only answer that she could come up with, was that he didn’t see her as someone that could defend herself and that pissed off the woman further. Who did he think he was? She was his mate and she wasn’t about to let any male ego get in the way of the fact that she could very much rip out throats when she was angry enough. Of which, she was very much feeling the anger of being slighted in such a fashion. The wolf didn’t want to be protected, she wanted to live and that didn’t include being coddled like a pup.

When she was a pup, she had almost died and that was when she refused to allow herself to be coddled. Redd wasn’t going to accept Gerwald coddling her and she certainly wasn’t going to put up with it with her mate. So when his scent led her to metallic doors, she pushed them open and growled at anyone that stood in her way. Quickly, she pulled her buy’ce from her head and hooked it upon her belt as it seemed as if those here were mostly friendly and shoved her way past Aria Nox while golden eyes settled upon Haastal who appeared to be drinking. ”Haastal!” She snarled as she approached him only to place both gloved hands against his chest to shove the male backwards.

Oh she did not care for any drinks being spilled in the hall, she just knew that she wasn't about to let her mate get away with treating her as if she was fragile. ”How dare you treat me like a pup.” Her hands lifted to shove at his chest again as her jaws tightened while another snarl was brought forth from the woman. To anyone who looked on it seemed as if she was a feral animal that was bearing down upon a male that had done nothing because the onlookers didn’t realize that he had left her behind. It looked as if she might attack him and she didn’t care for the scene that she made.

Redd felt angered and disrespected by her mate. She had fought ever since she had almost died as a pup and that wasn’t going to change. So, she let him feel the brunt of the anger that boiled within. The wolf paced within her head and clawed to sink her fangs into the man’s neck once again to show him that she wasn’t about to be placated easily. Yet the human half kept the wolf at bay and instead snarled at Haastal who stood before her. Redd had to resist punching him and instead she began to poke at his chest. ”Do that again and I’ll see to it that you’ll regret it,” The woman growled at him, but was quietly glad that it seemed he was ok.​

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[Haastal Haran]

M A N D A L O R I A N

So far the evening had been uneventful. Sure there had been some knives drawn, some blasters flashed, but that was pretty standard for a Mandalorian gathering. Even House Verd took to the occasional brawl to settle some of the bad blood and misunderstandings that came with any family. So, Haastal didn't pay much mind to any of it. Instead he gathered a small plate of food and continued to down some of the amber ale that was before him. The Mandalorian pick up the cup of ale, bringing it to his lips as he downed a bit of the drink, savoring the flavor.

Haastal!

Hearing his name being called like that caused his lips to turn up into a smirk as he set the drink back down. He glanced up to see his mate, Redd approaching him with an expression that didn't look like she was seeking out some cuddle time.

"Chit." He snorted, before leaning back in the seat and pulling a metallic case from his belt. He set the case on the table, but before he could do anything else, Redd had come over to him and shoved her hands against his chest. When he felt the pressure against his chest, his eyes darting against the woman, glaring up at her warningly. When she continued on, offering him another shove, the man pulled the container from the table, flipping it open and pulling a fresh cigarra from it. He twisted the end of one of the cylinders before setting it between his teeth.

"Ain't nobody treatin' you like chit. If this mess went bad it's easier for one person to slip out than two." A partial truth. When Haastal fought alongside Redd, he couldn't help but worry about her own safety, even ahead of his. In an ambush that could get someone killed, so until he was able to work though that, which he probably wouldn't, he had to try and avoid those situations. He lit his cigarra, taking a deep drag from the cylinder before blowing the smoke up into the air. When Redd pressed her finger to Haastal chest once again, the Mandalorian shot up from his seat. "Look..." His hand wrapped around her wrist in a tight grip as he growled the word out, but rather than cuss her out, he exhaled, letting go of her wrist.

"...Fine. I won't leave you behind again." The man pulled the cigarra from his lips, tossing it onto the table before looking to the woman whom he loved. "Mustafar took its toll on you, figured you could rest for a bit while I figured this Enclave chit out. My bad, alright?" He said, his hands grabbing the woman's waist and forcefully pulling her to him. "I prefer you by my side, you know that." He said softly, before his hand came up to nudge her cheek gently. "Settle down, we still don't know that this isn't some kind of trap." He practically whispered the final words, offering Redd a look as if saying. I haven't scoped it out yet.

Redd Mig Gred Zurin Aria Nox The Quartermaster Kes Stag Zahim Markona

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[Hinah Dragr]

Tags: | Siv Dragr | Akshae Numek | Open |

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What the actual...?

What in all of the worlds had just happened? Hell, in that regard, Hinah still wasn't even sure what was going on in general. So many things had happened in what felt like a very small amount of time; homes and families gone, friends and loved ones gone, safety and security, gone. Everything was just gone. Though...that wasn't entirely true. Through it all, there were still those who survived. Circumstances were ridiculous, difficult wasn't even a way to begin to describe it, but she and a literal handful of others pressed on. What choice did they have really but to endure and carry on? Giving up was never an option, and death was certainly not the answer. So when word of this place, this...this...what was it? Enclave, that's right...it still seemed surreal, too good to be true. And yet that wasn't at all where her thoughts were at the moment.

It hadn't taken a whole great deal of effort for Hinah to find her way to this feast hall. She had of course been on guard, ready to use everything at her disposal to set this place on fire and take as many people out as she could if it came down to some sort of ambush. But thus far, food and drinks were literally on the table and she had at least found some solace in that. The break in her personal tension didn't last however, not with the commotion that had just taken place not a few feet from her.

Despite her hidden features, both of the brunette's brows were raised, her eyes were wide, and she couldn't seem to decide who she wanted to focus on. The angry woman who had stormed into the room like a force to be reckoned with, or the man who was clearly the brunt of her ire. Moons and stars, if that was what it was like to be romantically involved with someone - as she was guessing the pair were - then perhaps steering clear of such things for as long as she had was a blessing in disguise.

Whatever the case may be, Hinah made a noise in her throat and turned away so that her attention could be anywhere else. The very last thing she wanted in a place that she wasn't comfortable was for someone to get annoyed with her and all hell to break loose. Though really, what were these sorts of gatherings without a little drama mixed into them? With a shake of the head she moved away from where she had been standing. It was on the move that she caught sight of familiarity, and while Siv Dragr wasn't someone she knew on the most personal of levels, at least now she no longer felt outnumbered since she had lost sight of Akshae.

Invited and welcome or not, Hinah approached Siv, and while she didn't sit in a seat just yet, she did lean on the table a bit heavily - and she did it all without falling on her backside or face! "So, when this place opens up like some sort of death trap, I'll watch your back if you watch mine." it was as good a conversation starter as any, and its not as if Hinah had ever really been any good with small talk anyhow.

 

[The Quartermaster]

R E B I R T H

Tag: Zurin | Siv Dragr | Haastal Haran | Zahim Markona | Kes Stag | Aria Nox | Caeos Prahl | Mig Gred | Redd | Hinah Dragr

The Quartermaster watched, slowly, as those who had beckoned to the call filled into the room. They were warriors of all ages, all backgrounds, some bearing famous names and deeds, others that even she did not know. She was sure she could see the Alor of Clan Gred somewhere in the crowd, and a brief commotion had brought her attention to one who looked to be of House Verd. But there were so many that weren't there.

There were too many that had been lost.

Why hadn't they been able to see it? Were the Clans too prideful to see that they had been slowly killing themselves? The wars that had plagued for the four-hundred years of darkness; the civil war; the red coronation; and now, when the Sith had invaded, they had been too weak. She had watched as Mandalore burned. And for all of her efforts, she could not have stopped it. No one had the power to stop what was inevitable.

But, she did have the power to shape the future. Mandalore was lost, but the warriors that sat and drank before her, some veterans of hundreds of battles, some whose beskar'gam didn't even have a single scratch; each of them presented a singular hope for the Mando'ade. Hope for the future, a hope that there would be a future.

She stood, lifting a simple wooden cup to gather the attention of those assembled.

"Warriors of all Clans, all Houses, and all Creeds. You do not know why you have been brought here, yet you came. You came broken, scattered, beaten, but with hope. Because despite the fact that Mandalore is gone, despite the fact that millions of our brothers and sisters are dead. . ."

The somber speech stifled all other noise in the room. She had not come here to supplicate their wounds with sweet words and polite phrases. Now, more than ever was time for honest talk.

"Despite all of that, we are still here. We are the legacy of the Taung warriors who lived in these very halls. We will rebuild, and through the burning fires of this trial be forged stronger. While they are not Mandalore, these halls that surround us will be a safe haven for those who have fled the remains of their homes, who are being hounded and hunted across the galaxy. In the walls of the Enclave, a new generation will be able to be fostered, and Clans will be able to live and rest without worry."

"I ask for no glory from you. I do not ask to be your leader, nor do I seek to claim the title of Mand'alor. All I ask is that each and every one of you does your duty to your people, and join us in our cause of rebuilding what we have lost. I ask that you help in forging a new generation of the Mando'ade. Will you take up that mantle?"

"What say you all?"
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[Zurin]

"Fine."

Zurin gripped his knife tighter and walked into the open.

"Here I am. Satisfied?"

Zurin glared at the dark outline of an armored woman. He didn't understand how anyone other than a Mandalorian could get in here. He doubted the Enclave had a password. If they did he probably would have been asked it when he first came in. The door had just opened for him. Maybe a hidden scanner? But that wouldn't be very effective. Anyone could kill a Mandalorian and take his armor and pass off as one of them. Perhaps that was how she got in. He never trusted anyone in Mandalorian armor until they showed their loyalty to Mandalore. Zurin had met several people posing as Mandalorians. Giving us bad names and making people hate us. Zurin always wondered why people tried poisoning Mandalorian reputation. Some want revenge! Others are Sith Agents and some are just plain crazy! Doing it for fun. Zurin put an end to most of them. All he needed was an alley and his kukri. A quick stab to the neck. Quite and painful for only a second. They deserved worse but Zurin wasn't a torturer. He did what he had to do in the quickest and most effective way.

Zurin readied his vambraces the combo of a grappling hook and a knife was very effective! Zurin repeated his question.

"Are you friend or foe?"

 

[Kes Stag]

Location: Roon
Objective: Observe
Tags: Zurin Aria Nox

More and more Mandalorians entered into the Enclave, far too many for Kes to get a shot in. It was also for more than he had anticipated. Perhaps checking at the enclave was worth it. Removing the tarp and holstering his sniper next to his Jetpack Kes stood up and took a second to stretch before jumping right off the cliff from where he was perched. He let himself fall and watched as his HUD began blaring warning messages as he got too close to the ground. He simply grinned before activating his Jetpack and flying straight towards the Enclave entrance. Coming to an abrupt landing right at the entrance. He quickly turned, scanning the landscape around him. Perhaps others had the same idea as Kes had? He shook his head and entered. No point in staying to find out.

Walking through the halls of the Enclave Kes did not get the sense this was a joyous occasion. Despite the feast being held it was as if there was an air of suspicion and uncertainty all around him. The symbol of the Mythosaur stuck out by a slash remained hidden under his poncho, best if the others didn't find out about it. As he continued walking he came across a small confrontation between Zurin and Aria Nox . The former looked like some hybrid between a Mandalorian and CIC soldier and the latter a Mandalorian. If there was a fight neither would back down and Kes judged it would be safer to watch from a distance.

 

[Oya Bralor]

Oya made his way through the crowd, it was both good and bittersweet to see this many Mandalorians in one place. The last Mandalorian gathering he had been to had been while fun, had lacked a purpose, having said that he had managed to spend a rather enjoyable night all together, even if he couldn’t remember most of it waking up next to a fit Mandalorian girl had been fun.

Some peoples love life seemed to be a bit more rocky. ( Redd and Haastal Haran ) Oya grunted in amusement at the exchange, it was a not uncommon form of relationship among Mandalorians. Oya had seen brawls or even formal duels between some couples. There were a few hands on blasters or knives, even among those who were friends or in some cases couples. Oya had once solved an argument with a Mandalorian by challenging them to a beast hunt on Dxun.

Oya searched through the crowds looking for old friends. In particular his Ba’buir Rav Bralor. The man was a living legend. Literally. Legends had been told of a so called Feeorin Mandalorian, sometimes in the same breath as the mythical Wookiee Mandalorian. Most assumed it was just a joke, Oya suspected Rav to be the origins of the joke, though Rav always either joked about it or dismissed it so it was hard to tell how if any of the stories were true.

Regardless Rav had been responsible for raising Oya, and Oya missed him. Oya even missed the old boat Rav flew it had been Oya’s home for awhile, and was one of his favourite places in the Galaxy, along with the jungles of Dxun. Where incidentally Rav taught him how to hunt, along with other life skills first aid, and how to live with just a sharp stick. It would be good to see him.

This gathering however seemed to be a little more tense, somber there was a purpose to it that previous ones didn’t have. Meeting another Mandalorian was always notable, meeting another Bralor even more so, old friends even more. Particularly in these troubled times. They had been scattered and defeated, you could tell in the eyes of everyone there, in their posture and in there terse sentences to each other. They lacked pride. Even Oya who like his name liked a good time was wary.

Oya’s thoughts were interrupted by the declarations of the one who had gathered them here. It was an impressive speech, for someone who said he didn’t want to become Mandalore, he was certainly acting like a good politician.

 

[Rav Bralor]

Rav landed The Drexle his AITI/i on a clearing. Rav wasn’t sure how he felt about the Enclave, but that wasn’t the point, the point was that the Mandalorians as a society as a culture needed to survive. Mandalorians had survived worst and would again. Rav had lived through it before and would this time.

Mandalorians weren’t like the Aruetii, they weren’t bound by one planet, they were spread across the stars, there were as many Clans and Houses now Nomadic as there had ever been. There had been times that they had been literally driven underground, with only small groups living in sewers like rats. The original Enclave.

Rav wasn’t sure that was what The Mandalorians needed, but then he wasn’t sure it wasn’t. They were far from the strength of numbers they had once been. Entire Clans were seeking refuge among the other powers of the galaxy, like the Confederacy. It would be years before they would have the strength to take back their homeworld.

Just because they weren’t bound to a planet like Ants on a rock that other races were, didn’t mean Mandalore wasn’t a symbol for his people, much like a Mandalore leader was. Of course for Mandalorians to be whole again they would need both types of Mandalore, one to take the other. Which order that would happen though was an interesting question.

Rav turned his mind away from politics, and smiled contentdly at the thought of seeing Oya again. Oya was as good as Rav’s own son. Rav had made it his mission to help and guide Oya to live up to his name despite the tragedy he had gone through in his life. It hadn’t always been easy or simple. Family rarely was, but Rav had taught him as best he could.

Rav arrived just as the leader of the Enclave took the stage. Rav wondered if the rumours of this Quartemaster meant to take both for himself. Rav listened to the man’s word. He was a skilled orator and his words struck home. Rav looked around and recognized the man he had helped raise.

“Oya!”

Others though assumed it was a rallying cry, and the chant started through the crowd.

“Oya! Oya!”