Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Nothing New

I am a son of the Mountain.
Zaz had spent the past few days enjoying the community that riddled The Wheel. Though this visit was not for pleasure the young Mandalorian had been enjoying himself a bit more then he intended. He hummed softly as he made his way out of the main casino and back to his ship's hanger. Anyone watching the Mandalorian for the past few days would have disregarded his actions as a getaway or retreat to enjoy oneself. However, that was not the case.

Since the cataclysm to engulf Zaz's home world he has traveled the galaxy when he could, searching for the scattered remnants of his people. Many, had fled to Dxun in hopes of rebuilding from the world, Zaz was not one of them. He felt the Mandalorians would need a more proactive route if they were to survive. It was this mindset that pulled him from his duties in The Dominion and brought him here.

Over the past few days there had been more than one mention of Mandalorians. Everything from mercenaries to assassin's. Some who were marked as Dar'manda and others who had merely chosen to abandon the clans for a different life.

These things meant little to Zaz, who felt now was the time for the Mando'ade to come together. His past few hours in The Wheel had resulted in him hearing a repeating name, Taran. Though he hadn't heard the name before he was eager to find this Mandalorian.

[member="Taran Ge'Mav"]
Places like The Wheel caused Taran's stomach to turn. He never could relax in crowds of aruetii, well aware of the ge'hutuun that such attracted. Yet like all things in his life in recent years it was the promise of Credits that called him here. For the right price Taran would brave any place, even those as troublesome as this.

"Transfer complete." The static tone of Taran's voice pouring through his helmet faded into the bluster of the crowd. "Verborir jaon." A nod would fall from his head as he looked to his former employer, Pollusk, and bid farewell. Though he planned to book passage back to solid ground as soon as possible, Pollusk's voice caught him mid-stride.

His voice came through low and nasally. "You do good work for a Mandalorian." He was short and fat, waddling a bit as he walked towards Taran. "I'm planning an outing in the near future, and I'm in need of a little intelligent muscle." A smile appeared on his greasy face. "What do you say? Interested?"

Now Taran did not like this man. In fact he did not like most aruetiise, but there was something about Pollusk that irked him. He had a way of talking down to people due to some sense of superiority. Most people that did that to Taran would have found themselves lacking a few teeth, but there was a problem in doing that to Pollusk. Which was prompted Taran to quietly consider before asking: "Waadas?"

"Three times the amount you just received, plus a small bonus from the other patrons." Pollusk was very, very wealth.

Taran shook his head for a moment before nodding once more and approaching the man and extending a hand. "Koor." Taran believed firmly in sealing contracts with a handshake. Pollusk took his hand and gave it a firm shake before turning away with a smile.

"I'll send the details to your data-pad. See you then!" Then just like that Pollusk disappeared into the crowd aruetiise.

With a tinge of regret Taran too left the area, heading no where in particular but most likely a cantina. He didn't like working for Pollusk, but at the moment he had little choice. All men had to make a living. Just the luck of the draw that Taran's trade required him to work with chaavla.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]
I am a son of the Mountain.
Zaz very much considered himself a people person, at least more so than any of his siblings. However, that did not stop him from isolating himself whenever he had the chance. After all, he still enjoyed the sweet silence of privacy. Yet, as he strode up the ramp to his ship he was reminded of exactly why he enjoyed silence.

"Don't you think you could at least tell me when you're going to run off like that?!" A metallic voice called out to him as he cleared the peak of his ramp. Standing near one of the ship's terminals was a PROXY droid of menacing design. Unlike other droid models this one was lacking most of the holoemitters that allowed the unique droid's to change their appearance, instead they seemed to be replaced with dingy metal plates, that looked to have been scrapped pieces of armor.

"PROXY-" Zaz started, though was quickly cut off.

"I mean seriously, all I ask is for a little heads up." The Droid continued as he turned away from Zaz. His metallic fingers working through the files on the terminal set before him.

"PROXY........" Again Zaz found his words cut short before they could linger into a true sentence.

"Oh you Mandalorians are all the same, shoot first, shoot second, wait until everyone's dead then ask a question or two! Really, does it hurt you to have some manners?!"

The Droid's words trailed off into a very aggravating lecture on common courtesy and other things Zaz could care less about. As he continued Zaz drew his blaster pistol, aiming it at the Droid's back which was covered in a large plate of metal.

"I mean all you'd have to do is pick up the communication link an-" A blaster bolt impacted the droid's rear plate, though it did not harm the droid and merely dissipated it did throw the chatty automaton forward and slamming him into the console.

"Can you hear me now?" Zaz asked simply, holstering his weapon as he cleared the distance between the droid and himself.

Rather than argue against the blaster bolt to the back or even comment on it the Droid simply gave a slightly odd twitch before speaking up once again. "Yes, well.....I have found the individual you are looking for anyway. A Taran Ge'Mav. Not much information on why he is here other than he's here for work. Other than that there isn't much the port authorities have on him."

Zaz walked away from PROXY, to where his helmet had been laying in wait from him. He put the buy'ce over his face as his words spilled through the bucket. "Where is he?" He stated with little patience remaining.

Another moment passed as Zaz prepared to depart back into The Wheel. As he did PROXY called back to his master. "Location: The Red Mynock Cantina on the south side of The Wheel." With that Zaz made his way down the ramp and back into the hanger, as he did he heard his comm device come alive once more. "Zaz, what do you want this man for anyway?" A smile crept over his face as he thought of the things he hoped to accomplish.

"Ner Akaan." He stated simply back to the droid, in the native tongue of a Mandalorian, which the droid was programmed to understand.

With nothing more to say to the droid he shut his comm device off for the moment. Better he focus on getting to the cantina and finding them an he searched for.

[member="Taran Ge'Mav"]

*Mandoa: "My war."
"Tug'yc." The bottom of the shot glass hit the counter as Taran barked over to the bartender. The man gave pause, raising a brow at the words, prompting Taran to lift the glass and shake it a bit. A curt nod would follow as the man understood and rushed to fill the Mandalorians glass. No sooner had the liquid been poured to fulfillment had Taran drained the vessel once more. "...K'oyacyi..." He muttered softly whilst eyeing the empty glass and setting it down again.

Already Taran was regretting taking another job from Pollusk. Dealing with people like that was not something he made common practice of. The overtly arrogant and needlessly boastful. It was those types that got people killed due to their own foolish actions. Still, he had credits and that was something Taran was in dire need of. His goal was not one that could be obtained easily, or cheaply. If some bloated Core-Worlder wanted to throw away credits it he wouldn't stop him. Solus bora shal ca'nara, right now that was all Taran could do.

The repetitive music of the cantina filled his ears and, just for a moment, Taran let himself relax. Reaching over and picking up his helmet, Taran fastened it back on before paying his tab and walking to the back of the room to the private booths. Looking down at the data terminal on his gauntlet, Taran noted the time. There was still a good while until his transport arrived. Taking it easy here seemed preferable to waiting at the docks. After all, getting on one of those damn ships was not something he relished.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

Tug'yc - Again

K'oyacyi - Cheers

Solus bora shal ca'nara - One job at a time
I am a son of the Mountain.
Finding a cantina in The Wheel was a simple task, finding a certain cantina was not. It had taken the Mandalorian nearly thirty minutes to find the cursed bar and when he had he found himself already short on patience. The man made his way into the cantina, his helmet still covering his face as he scanned the room. It was rather crowded, yet there was just enough space for him to survey the room. As always he took great care not to appear to be searching, just taking a leisurely look at things.

His eyes came over a man with gruff features and a hard demeanor who seemed to be abandoning the bar for the privacy of his own booth. As he made his way over Zaz approached the bartender, setting a few credit chits on the bar as the bar droid approached him.

"For you, sir?" The Droid asked, one of his four appendages buffing a glass to set in front of the Mandalorian.

"Shot of Keela." Zaz ordered, his eyes never leaving the droid as it prepared his drink. Setting a small crystal glass in front of him the droid collected the credits before sauntering down to the other end of the bar.

Pulling his buy'ce off and setting it on the bar stool next to him Zaz glanced back to survey the room, another guise for taking a good look at his target. After finding satisfaction in the man he wrapped his fingers around the glass, downing the shot before turning his attention back to the room before him. He whistled back to the bar droid, bringing the droid back to his section of the bar. "Two more." The Droid beeped softly before setting two more shots in front of him. Once again Zaz paid and once again the bar droid returned to the other end of the bar, most likely depositing the credits to the on-duty bartender.

This time Zaz clipped his helm to his hip before taking the cups into his hand and crossing the bar. He allowed his eyes to wander around the room as he approached the man he had been tracking. After finally reaching the booth he set one of the glasses on the table, sliding it towards the man as he broke words.

"Gal'gar pirur, vod?" He said, the words easily flowing from his lips.

He extended a hand to the Mandalorian, his eyes gauging him intently.

[member="Taran Ge'Mav"]
*Mandoa: "Buy you a drink, brother?"
Taran was not one to so easily take gifts from strangers, even if they were Mando'ade. Yet he would aceppt the gesture by taking the glass in hand and nodding towards the stranger. He would, though, sit the glass down on the table drinking none of it's contents. "Meg gar?"Taran would say through his helmet. Mind reeling with questions as to this man's identity and purpose for being here.

It was not a strange thing to see other Mando'ade in places like this though. After the collapse off the clans and their loss of power many of Taran's people returned to mercenary work. Places like The Wheel were breeding grounds for the overtly wealthy and needlessly reckless, and most often those two came hand in hand. So actually seeing another Mandalorian here was actually no big feat. Taran was most certainly not the only one with work here.

No, that was not what put Taran on edge. It was the stranger approaching him that had. A Mando'ade would quickly and willingly seek out a kinsman that shared common cause or a fellow clan member. Taran was neither of those to this man. So then why? "Me'copaani?" Taran finally asked, intending to find out just that.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

Mando'ade - Mandalorians, children of Mandalore
Meg gar - Who are you

Me'copaani- What do you want
I am a son of the Mountain.
There was a cutting silence that ensued between the two as the man named Taran asked who Zaz was. He measured his words as if each one held a decent weight, which they may have, depending on the man he spoke to. "My name is Zaz, bal ni'cuy burc'ya."

Setting his buy'ce on the table Zaz slid into the booth on the opposite side of Taran. He quickly downed his own glass, soaking in the soft burn that erupted from the alcohol. "Gar vhisur guuror Ori'noryc jag bid Ni go'naasir gar ca'nara." Zaz stated, producing a small datapad from his belt. He placed the module on the table before gesturing to it, urging the man to take a look. On it were pictures of Manda'yaim that showed the aftermath of the planet's cataclysm. Rivers that once had been as blue as a pure sky now ran red with molten lava. The frozen north had become a dangerous tundra most could not survive, and smoke covered the planet as a blanket would a bunk.

"This was our home." The Mandalorian stated intently, intertwining his fingers underneath his jaw as he spoke. "This is where we raised our children, where we gained our heritage, and where many of us learned the ways of the warrior." The man continued, obviously unsettled by the thought of his homes destruction.

Zaz took a moment of pause before leaning back in his booth. "The Mando'ade are fighting a new war. We have a new crusade, but our 'Mand'alor' fails to see this, he would prefer us to work as security and mercenaries....rather than take the mantle of conquerors." There was an obvious distaste as Zaz spoke of the Mand'alor, though he did not expand on it.

"The Mandalorians once commanded respect and led conquests to match even the greatest of Empires. Why not again?" He questioned.

Realizing his monologueing was beginning to bore even himself he returned to the point of this meeting. "Mand'alor believes this is the time to lick our wounds, start from scratch, it's not. Now is the time for war." Zaz took the datapad and input a new system of commands, allowing new pictures of ships, soldiers, and even planet locations. "My people, Clan Tal'verda, Betna, and Dest, have broken from our brothers. We call ourselves the Rang'ade. If Mand'alor will not supply a crusade we shall do such ourselves." Zaz leaned forward, pressing a hand on the table as he returned to his chosen tongue.

"Vi liser akaanir! akaanir ti mhi vod."


bal ni'cuy burc'ya.- "and I am a friend."

"Gar vhisur guuror Ori'noryc jag bid Ni go'naasir gar ca'nara."- "You seem like a busy man, so I'll try not to waste your time."

"Rang'ade"- "Children of Ash."

"Vi liser akaanir! akaanir ti mhi vod."- "We can fight, fight with us brother."

[member="Taran Ge'Mav"]
Taran winced at the images, eyes misting over a bit within the confides of his helmet. He was no model son of Manda'yaim but a son nonetheless. He had walked those fields, swam those streams, hiked those mountains. More than just the place of his raising, Mandalore had been his salvation before he knew it's name or was christened one of the Mando'ade. He had not been there when the cataclysm occurred, his exile already underway, but all that called themselves Madalorian knew when such transpired.

After sliding the data-pad back across the table Taran let his hands go up and remove his buy'ce. Staring now across the table with his own eyes, his low coarse voice rang out. "...Evaar'la akaan..." He said more than asked. It was a promise many had made during the decline of the clans. A hope that through fiery crusade Mando'ade could reignite something lost to them, and spread once more across the galaxy. A Mandalorin peoples united behind this cause was something of a force of nature. Unrelenting, and never ending.

"I've heard this before." Taran said unflinching. "Mando'ade seeking kote, or wealth, or status, leading kin into death and folly." His words were not kind, and not yet done. "The Mand'alor seeks to changes things. Rewrite tradition and custom so that our people will not fall into obscurity. Truth be told I find nothing wrong with that." He would then close his eyes, leaning back into his seat with a furrowing brow. For a long time he just sat there, in silence, before lazily opening his eyes again and fixing his vision on Zaz. "Yet I am not a farmer. I was taught that the Mando'ade do not sow. We reap." A shake of his his head reiterates Taran's words. "The Mand'alor has forgotten this."

This choice would determine Taran's fate. It was not one lightly made nor easily considered. Yet the drifting had to end. One day he would have to come home. Taran sought redemption, why not do so through conquest? "Akaan, kyr'am, ijaat. The words of the clan I seek to return to. Give me those, and I will follow."

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

Manda'yaim - Home of the Mandalorians, Mandalore

Mando'ade - Mandalorians, children of Mandalore

Evaar'la akaan - New War

buy'ce - helmet

kote - glory

Mand'alor - Leader of the Madalorians

Akaan, kyr'am, ijaat - War, death, honor
I am a son of the Mountain.
If there was one thing Zaz respected in the galaxy, it was cruel honesty. As Taran spoke he understood the man to be a Mando'ade of decent character. His words held no double meaning nor hide his true feelings on the matter.

More than anything Taran seemed to understand the position of the Mandalorians and what this crusade could mean for them. He did not interrupt the man, he'd allow him to speak his piece, and as he spoke Zaz merely listened intently. As he came to the end of his words Zaz felt he had chosen right in his hopes of recruiting the man.

"Akaan ti cuun aru'ese." He stated, gesturing for the bar droid to come to their booth to refill his glass.

"Kyr'am ak tion'ad dushk mhi, bal an ijaati kyr'am ru'kir gar ca'nara olaror." He continued, watching as the bar droid strolled over, bringing a bottle of Keela to the table, refilling the Zaz's glass.

He glanced to the man's glass which stood untouched, holding his own glass up to the man, in the manner of a toast. "Ijaat, par an de mhi"

"Follow me, and help me carve our path through this galaxy once again." He ended, in galactic basic, his eyes set directly on the man.

"Akaan ti cuun aru'ese."- "War with our enemies."

"Kyr'am ak tion'ad dushk mhi, bal an ijaati kyr'am ru'kir gar ca'nara olaror."- "Death to those who have wronged us, and an honorable death for you, should your time come."

"Ijaat, par an de mhi"- "Honor, redeemed to all of us."

[member="Taran Ge'Mav"]

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