Faction On The Trail That We Blazed

[Fenn Stag]

FENN STAG
MANDALORE'S TOMB | SHOGUN
TAG: Sahan Dragr l Darion of Myrkr l Kamon Hourn l Koda Fett

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Thanks to the efforts of a combination of luck, bribery, and shrewd negotiation- Nej Tane revealed to Carduul Akahl and Vren Rook the location of a tightly held secret for many years: the location of the Tomb of Mandalore the Indomitable, and the location of the Iron Tree- a great Beskar creation, each branch recording a clan of the Mandalorians. No branch was larger than the others, and the Iron Tree was outfitted with slots for the Beskarsmiths to forge anew. A testament to the Mandalorian's preservation, and desire to grow.

It was here, that Preliat Mantis beseeched to deaf ears, a Bounty Hunter more obsessed with himself rather than purpose, to assume leadership. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately and by fate's decree, Koda Fett did not take the mantle, fight the good fight. But perhaps that was not his journey. Fenn did not judge him for it. Fenn approached the mouth of the tomb, having been there for several hours. Meditating, cleaning, sweeping even. He lit fires, great metal baskets and firepits surrounding the tree.

He had placed the call out, to the Covenant. To gather beneath the tree. To gaze upon it, and ponder what it meant to be a Mandalorian. He fell to his knees in front of it, prostrating himself. He removed his helmet, leaning down at the waist. He thought of those that came before him, the great many clans, the great many warriors and soldiers. How they might've been. And if they were proud of him, proud of what they were doing. But part of him, worried that there was a sense of dread from the spirits of those that came before. They lingered over him- he could feel them.

Were they upset?

Disappointed?

Hopeful?

Or just watching?

He knew they'd be remiss of the splintering, from the Empire to the Covenant to the Mandalorians of the Maw. The Crusaders were perhaps the last time they were mostly unified, only somewhat. But perhaps, in the shadow of the Iron Tree, they'd have some agreement, some understanding. Fenn fixed his hair, and felt tears in his eyes. Shame. Grief. It came at him in waves, before the man finally broke down, unable to hide his sorrow, his rage. Here he was, in the shadow of the ancients, the bygone Mandalorians, and all he could feel-

Was the weight of his failure, his shame.

 

[Livia Cadera]

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Location: at the tomb mandalore the indomnitable
Objective: unsure
Gear: Beskar'gam, Skeleton, shotgun, Ship x12, HRNV Aurelian Veruna
Tags: OPEN

Livia was not sure why she was here, curiosity? Perhaps to learn something about the history of her culture. Maybe. She was an assassin, not a grave robber, she had no real interest in whatever remained down there, although judging by historical records it was likely just as heavily picked over as any number of famous tombs around the galaxy.

But it was important to people she cared about and some of the vod in her clan had talked about this character with a great degree of reverence, so she was here. She observed the great tree in front of her. Up there somewhere apparently was a branch that represented her own clan, she might like to see it.

Between her and the tomb was a man she didnt know, but had been told his name was Fenn Stag . This venture clearly meant a lot to him and he was prostrating himself in front of the ruins like he owed them something. Wasn't her business to ask what, so she silently observed, making sure the sensors on her beskar'gam were scanning to local environment for anything unexpected, she would not be ambushed in a grave yard.

 

[Tomaj Eldar]

Tomaj Eldar stood with hands folded behind his back, gaze lifted toward the Iron Tree. As a collector of Mandalorian lore and knowledge, he had felt compelled to come here. Even if the old Enclave and the new Covenant did not recognize the title of Mand'alor. Some things were left in the past, but it was still part of their history.

The leonid gazed at the branch that held Clan Eldar. He knew there had to be other Eldars out there. So many clans were splintered and fractured, not knowing each other at all. It was a quiet testament to how fractured the Mando'ade had become.

He did not immediately look at Fenn. He could sense the weight on the man's shoulders. His voice, when it came, was low and measured. "The past does not judge us, Fenn. It remembers." A pause lingered briefly. "And what it remembers… is not perfection." His eyes drifted across the carved sigils — centuries of names, victories, betrayals, rebirths. "The clans were never monuments. They were survivors. Each scar carved into this tree is proof of that." Now he turned towards Fenn. "You feel shame because you care. That is not weakness. It is inheritance."

"But grief is not meant to root us in place. It is meant to remind us of what must not be lost." His tone deepened slightly — not forceful, but firm. "Mandalorians do not live in the shadow of doubt. We live in the light of responsibility. If you would see unity restored… then shoulder it."

"Do not mourn what we were. Build what we must become."

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[Yael Kandar]

ON THE TRAILS THAT WE BLAZED
A Brave New World - Chapter 1

GEAR: in bio
TAG: Fenn Stag | Livia Cadera | Tomaj Eldar | Open

LILAC WINE​

SHOGUN

The atmosphere within the Tomb of Mandalore the Indomitable was heavy, thick with the scent of ancient dust and the sharp, metallic tang of the Iron Tree.

Yael moved through the shadows of the entrance, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth of the tomb floor. The flickering light of the firepits danced across the dark blue plates of her beskar'gam, casting the Terrorbird Skull of Clan Kandar into a sharp reflection. Usually, Yael carried herself with the icy, untouchable precision of an assassin, but here, in the presence of the Iron Tree, that mask felt brittle.

She looked at the branches, each one a legacy, each one a debt.

For years, she had been a ghost. She had run from the hearth of Kestri, from the expectations of her father, Meshur, and her godfather, Vren Rook , and the silent disappointment of her brother, Emam. She had left Gailen Keldau behind with nothing but the dust of her departure. She had told herself it was for the cause, for Kestri, for the strengthening of their way. But standing in the hollowed silence of Shogun, watching Fenn Stag , a man she respected for his iron will, break under the weight of his own grief, the lie tasted like ash.

She wasn't just a warrior; she was a daughter of Kestri who had forgotten the way home.

Yael came to a halt several paces behind Fenn, her helmet tucked under her arm. The pale blonde of her hair caught the orange glow of the braziers, her blue eyes fixed on the branch that represented her lineage. It looked small. It looked lonely.

I am done with running, she thought, the vow a silent hammer-strike against her own heart. It brings her back to the scene in Tor Valum just weeks prior, where she made the same promise to Gailen.

She had spent too long as a shadow in the dark, striking at enemies while her own house felt the chill of her absence. If the spirits of the ancients were watching, they didn't want her apologies; they wanted her steel. They wanted her presence. She had wrongs to right; debts of blood, of loyalty, and of time, that could no longer be paid in excuses.

Yael didn't speak a word. She didn't offer platitudes to Fenn's visible sorrow. Instead, she sank to one knee. She lowered her head, offering her silence as a testament. She was here now. She was staying. And whatever penance the Iron Tree demanded of her to restore the honor of the Kandar name, she would pay it in full.​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Darion did not know what to do with what he had saved.

There had been no time on Myrkr. Only fire in the trees and the sound of brothers dying in their helmets. He had taken what his hands could carry and ran. Only later he found he had a box.

Inside were the T-visors from his father and mother, cut clean from their shattered helms. There were pieces of beskar from his brothers' and sisters' cuirasses, chipped and torn where the bolts had struck. A cousin's signet ring. A child's braided cord that had once hung decoratively from a vambrace. Small things. All that was left of his clan. His family.

He had carried the box with him everywhere.

When Fenn's call came, he knew then what he would do.

He walked past Fenn, who wept openly. He walked past Tomaj, who consoled him. And he walked past the other two, who stood apart in the silence.

Darion went on until he stood beneath the Iron Tree. Its branches rose high and wide, wrought in beskar.. Names had been etched into every limb of clans long dead and clans yet living. A hundred names, and more. They caught what little light there was and held it without warmth.

He looked up and searched until he found the name of his own small clan. He did not speak it. Not even in his mind. His father had made him swear that he would go on if the day came. That he would not bind himself to ghosts. He had sworn it.

Darion had joined this new covenant. He fought beside them. Yet there was a distance in him that no oath had crossed.

He set the box down at the base of the tree. He opened it and took the things out one by one. The visors. The broken plates. The ring. The cord. He laid them carefully against the trunk. Then he fell on one knee and bowed his head and closed his eyes.

A tear came down his cheek and fell into the dust at the roots of the Iron Tree.

Fenn Stag Livia Cadera Tomaj Eldar Yael Kandar

 

[Reggie Rau]

GALAAR
IRON TREE | SHOGUN
TAG: Fenn Stag | Celt Saxon (and Liv) | Tomaj Eldar | Yael Kandar | Darion of Myrkr

VERD'GOTEN BAL DARAS​

It felt like a different life the last time she had been on Shogun.

In a way, it was a different life. That life still had a Clan - parents. A brother. An uncle. A family. Now all that was left was memory - and not all of it pleasant.

Thyrsus had been the darkest day of her life.

She had found her way to the Enclave back then in a quest for absolute vengeance against those that had taken everything from her. What she hadn't counted on nor particularly looked for, was finding a new family among new vode.

Time had at least scabbed over her open emotional wounds and a big reason for it had been the constants in her life now. Though she was still Rau, the Saxon Clan had become a new de-facto family to her - especially Celt Saxon who was like a sister to her.

Yet another loss had hit her.

The man that had spent so much time mentoring her in the finer ways of the Mando'ade - (†) Kranak Vizsla - had been taken from her much too soon as well. Once again, she had been close when another loved and respected vod had fallen in battle. It was as if the Galaxy couldn't abide her being happy.

When Fenn's call had been heard within the newly formed Covenant, Reggie had wrestled whether she should go or not. Yet her raw heart had won her over to see the Tree once again. So she had gone, making sure she dragged Celt with her.

As she now stood, a few paces behind the rest, Kranak's beskad and saber rested heavy on her back and on her belt. Yet, that wasn't what she had brought here. A small bag also hung emotionally heavy on her shoulder as she stepped forward, her flame hair echoing the warmth of the braziers. She briefly noticed some of her other comrades also wrestling with the emotions that also welled within her. This was probably the most expressive she had seen Darion being, which was saying something.

But Reggie's eyes also found the branches of the Tree and everything around her fell away. Her Clan name burned brightly from the rest. Yet two others also stood out to her.

She went to stand below the Vizsla branch, taking the bag from her shoulder while her eyes remained on the name. Her hands gripped the bag tightly as if loathe to let go. Then she took out the two spaulders from within, her eyes finally looking down at them.

The rest of Kranak's armour was back on Kestri, but she had made off with these to honour him in the only other way she knew how.
Kneeling next to the roots, she placed them below his clan name.
"Thank you, Alor'ad." she whispered, the words loaded with emotion as she rested a hand on one of the spaulders. Yet she knew his mentorsip would always be with her with the presence of his weapons among her own.

Then her eyes drifted back to her Clan name - and that of Saxon. The rawness of it all burned in her throat and in her eyes. She owed so much to the clan that had taken her in without demanding allegiance from her. Without asking her to carry their name. That she could still be who she was and still consider them family.

She would never be able to let go of the last tie that held her greatest loss. She would be Rau until the day she joined her Clan as Manda. But perhaps there was a middle way.

A tear spilled over and she absent-mindedly wiped it away before looking for Celt. She found her fellow fire-crowned sister and she motioned her over.
"I...have a question." she would softly tell the other woman once she joined Reggie.

"How do you think Romul would take it if I pledged my one-person Clan to yours?"​

 

[Celt Saxon]

Location: The tree
Objective: Pay homage to madalor8an culture
Tag:
Equipment: In bio

The tree loomed on front of the gathered mandalorians, Celt did not consider herself the most traditionalist of Mandalorians but there was something about this that touched her and caused the hairs on her skin to bristle in awe. Their whole culture, represented like this showed how varied but how connected they were. She removed her helmet and looked up, tracing the twists in the metallic branches. She found Vizsla first, and gave took a moment of silence for her ancestors on that branch, her being half Vizsla on her mother's side. But she really wished to see her branch.

She could only picture the Saxon branch being one of strength, of bearing the weight of heavy mandalorian fruit. She smirked to herself, was she a romaticist now. In reality it looked very much like all the rest, every clan being equal growing from the main trunk. She glanced over at Reggie Rau as she honoured (†) Kranak Vizsla by placing his pauldrons by the tree, holding herself a little in grief. Celt walked over and gave her a smile with a softness very few would know the Saxon possessed.

"How do you think Romul would take it if I pledged my one-person Clan to yours?"

"We fight in that we honour those that fought before." she answered in short mandalorian prayer before giving her own answer. "He would be honoured to count you among us, and add the memories of yours to ours." she couldnt speak for Romul Saxon exactly, but she knew in her heart that he would welcome sister in.

"I think its lovely what you have done for Kranak, I think he would have wanted that."

Celt's eyes turned to Fenn Stag As he prostrated himself and offered himself to their ancestors. She gave a small short exhaled huff. "I've seen this before so many times, a hundred credits says we are about to see someone declare himself Mand'alor" she joked, trying to give Reggie something else to think on.

 

[Kamon Hourn]

KAMON HOURN
THEME​

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LOCATION:SHOGUN | TOMB OF MANDALORE THE INDOMITABLE
TAG: Fenn Stag | Tomaj Eldar | Celt Saxon | Darion of Myrkr​

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In a rather short span of time, Kamon had gone from being alone and on the run, to having a purpose. As his eyes rested upon the Iron Tree, which stood vigil over the tomb of Mandalore the Indomitable, he could not help but remove his helmet and gaze upon the site with his own naked eyes. He momentarily glanced down at the freshly etched sigil on his left pauldron but then stared back at the tree with its numerous branches and carvings - memorializing in iron the history of his people. Yet as his gaze passed over the names of clans both big and small, he knew that no amount of searching would reveal his own clan.

In a manner of speaking, he and his were tied to Clan Kelborn through a loose affiliation; but the name held no meaning or weight to him. He came from a clan of the clanless, which was only given a name when his father seized power and led them all to follow Khamul Kryze’s call to war.

‘Clan Hourn... hmph...’

His ‘Clan’ was little more than a band of the honorless, with the few who held any honor burned at the pyre, buried in a shallow grave amongst the battlefields of the Second Great Hyperspace War, or lost beyond hope in the throws of madness. His Clan would not be remembered for anything other than shame, with those honored few deserving of remembrance consigned to oblivion because of his father.

But he would remember. And maybe... there would come a time, when he could redeem his family’s name. Maybe they could even add their name amongst the clans of old on this very tree. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be present in this moment; listening to the quiet surrounding the tomb, along with the hushed voices of his new-found brothers and sisters. The truth was, all of them walked a hard road over the past few years; some harder than others. But they all walked, and they all survived.

Tomaj Eldar ‘s voice echoed throughout the tomb as he gave comfort to the one who organized this pilgrimage, who himself knelt prostrate on his knees in front of the tree. Kamon did not know Fenn as well as some of the others, but he knew well what the silent weight of grief looked like. It was good that Tomaj was here to give comfort. Kamon too was given some comfort by the shaman; one of the few acts of kindness and understanding he had received in recent memory. Perhaps Fenn would benefit as Kamon had.

"I've seen this before so many times, a hundred credits says we are about to see someone declare himself Mand'alor" she joked, trying to give Reggie something else to think on.

The woman’s joke brought a smile to Kamon’s lips even as his eyes remained closed, but they soon opened. He started to feel himself heal from the decades of pain that he carried with him; not just because of the tree, but because of what their presence here represented. He was within the Iron Covenant, and even more than that - part of a unit that in and of itself was a brotherhood within a brotherhood. It was then, in the midst of his own thoughts, that Kamon noticed Darion of Myrkr nearby. The man placed a box in front of the tree, and bent down in silence. Kamon glanced up at the tree one more time, before pulling off his gauntlet - exposing his hand. He flexed his fingers, and stared a moment at his open palm before unsheathing a knife. He slashed his palm with a shallow cut, allowing blood to well up and coat the edge of the blade.

It was an older blade; clean, but clearly worn from years of carry and use. It bore a mark on the handle, a horn as if from a massive beast. He leaned down next to Darion, and sunk the knife into the shallow earth at the base of the tree. He closed his eyes again and brought his cut hand balled up into a fist, up to his mouth as if in silent prayer. He would leave his past behind him here. He would restore his honor.

Then he would return to reclaim this knife, and carve his name upon its tree when he was worthy to do so.

Kamon remained facing forward, but spoke to Darion beside him.

“We aren’t alone anymore vod.” He glanced over at him briefly. “We have a purpose again, and kin to live that purpose with.”

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[Darion of Myrkr]

"We aren't alone anymore vod. We have a purpose again, and kin to live that purpose with." came a voice, nearly startling Darion, and his eyes shot open. Consumed by his mourning, he'd not even sensed the man draw near. He was among kin, but a true warrior never lets their guard down.

Never.

He eyed the man beside him. Blood was dripping from his hand and a well-made knife had been sunk into the soft earth before him. His words still lingered in the air and they felt as if the man spoke them as much to Darion as to himself.

"What is your purpose, brother?" Darion said, still his head bent down, eyeing the man sideways.

Kamon Hourn

 

[Kamon Hourn]

KAMON HOURN
THEME​

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LOCATION:SHOGUN | TOMB OF MANDALORE THE INDOMITABLE
TAG: Fenn Stag | Tomaj Eldar | Celt Saxon | Darion of Myrkr​

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"What is your purpose, brother?" Darion said, still his head bent down, eyeing the man sideways.

Kamon paused at the question. It was one thing to come to the realization of purpose silently, but then to give it voice was another entirely. As if giving breath to an otherwise unborn thought. He stared at the tree a moment, until he finally nodded. “Redemption.”

The word hung in the air a moment, then Kamon turned to glance at Darion once more. “Redemption for a path I was led on, but waited too long to leave. What about you?” Kamon was far from a wise Shaman, or even a clan elder. But Tomaj’s kind words back on Kestri had lifted the weight he had carried for so long, enough so that he felt as though he could reach out to others. Perhaps it was a form of trauma bonding? Or maybe it was just easier to see the same weight in others. “What about you?” His tone was hushed, halting even. “What weight do you carry?”

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