Faction One Mandalore || Mandalorian Empire

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Feydrik stopped, his mind trying to contemplate what the redhead was saying. But it was the appearance of Mandalore that brought him to a bow, then to a knee, a hand across his chest. He waited for him to finish speaking, then others. More newcomers. But the same speeches, the same words vomited over and over.

Return, gather, rest, rebuild. Rebuilding. Rebuilding and rebuilding. The word nauseated him now. Mandalore did not need to be rebuilt. It needed to be reborn. The Neocrusaders were the rebirth. The reality of their people. The truth of their creed, what they were meant to do. Not give platitudes and long-winded, empty, hollow speeches.

“And if we don’t?”

He said simply, posing the question to the so called Empire in the room. He looked around at each of them, a detractor, a dissenter not satisfied.

“This Sole Ruler does not have the support of anyone but his own clan. How curious.”

He didn’t chuckle like he normally would’ve. He let the words hang in the air. He wanted an answer. He demanded one.

​

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

Wearing: Beskar'gam + Jacket
Tag: Aether Verd Feydrik Munin Runi Kuryida Carduul Akahl Ze'bast Verd Aselia Verd Vreegan Fett Careena Fett Saverok Sari'la Kandosii

The old Vizsla was sat sideling in a windowsill.

She'd kept quiet for what felt like hours, sharpening her wristblade on a whetstone while the vultures bickered amongst themselves. It was like watching a broken holo-record on an endless loop, as it had been for many decades. Arguments were repeated back and forth that the first Mandalorian Empire had levied, just like the Union after them, the Sons of Mandalore, The Enclave, The Protectors and now this.

Except these people were repeating themselves even.

"So. much. talking." she said at last.

Her voice was cool, yet rendered leathery by a lifetime of barking orders, and smokes.

"If any of you truly gave a shit about the old ways, how Mand'alor is made, you'd challenge him yourself."

She gestured at Aether Verd with a mechanical hand.

Both her arms were severed above the elbow, ending in bone-white prosthetics. They matched her leg, which clanked against the floor as the Matriarch of the Black Fleet dropped from the window with a grunt.

Upon hearing the admiral's voice, several commandos ceased their loitering nearby, paying close attention.

Upon their shoulders were various markings. Nite Owls, The Black Hand, even Death Watch Crusade. Each bore the cuts and scrapes of battle beside, their sky-blue armor having long since lost it's shine to war.

"And yet Carduul Akahl has spoken against such bloodshed."

"If he is YOUR mand'alor then pick one. Fight or listen."

Each step she took was heralded by the sickly chime of Sith-imperial coins, bent and broken, tied to the end of a blood-red scarf. Each plundered from the bowels of broken ships, and bases that could no longer be found on any map of the surrounding systems.

"Truth be told I don't give a damn who names himself what."

"I'd need both hands to count every Mand'alor to fail and abandon us in my lifetime alone."

"The name means as little as Dar'manda." she chuckled bitterly behind her fanged buy'ce.

"What I care about are actions."

"So what's the plan, Iron?" she looked to Aether Verd .

"Crusaders?" then to everyone else.

"If it's to continue bickering, I'll continue fighting the Imperialists on my own terms."

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi nodded in Ísbjørn's direction as he entered. "It is not the title, it is the soul," the Shaman replied calmly. Many did claim the title of old. Many desired a return to what they believed the past to be -- simpler, stronger, better. They would not hear just how messy and bloody their footsteps through history had been even as they'd lived the briefest period personally. Too much effort that sought to rekindle the past. Too much focus on reclaiming planets. Material things mattered not; the people -- Mandalorians -- were the only thing that mattered.

The Shaman's eyes turned once more to the burning soul among them. "You are welcome to stay in peace, Brother, but this is not a Senate Hall to vote on who leads the Empire. There will be a time to strike our enemies, and you are welcome to join us, or break the spear on your knee and show the Sith what worth a Mandalorian's resolve." She hoped those present, loyal to Carduul, would stay and join them. All Mandalorian were children of the Manda, and should not fight with one another. Disagree, yes. Even fight. But in the end find a way to resolve their differences and crush those that sought to crush them first.

Her attention turned to Aloy next. "Bickering exhausts the mind and weathers the heart before battle is joined." Runi inclined her head in agreement.

Aether Verd | Feydrik Munin | Carduul Akahl | Ze'bast Verd | Aselia Verd | Vreegan Fett | Careena Fett | Saverok | Sari'la Kandosii | Aloy Vizsla | Kalðr Ísbjørn​

 

[Saverok]

The Gen'dai glared at Aether Verd as he was seemingly and amazingly ignored. It took alot to ignore a Gen'dai in your face, especially one that hawked a blob of phlegm on your beskar'gam. Specifically on a Mand'alors beskar'gam? What kind of mandalorian endured that without spite or retaliation? A nerf herder or someone with a larger plan in play. Either way the reaction, or lack thereof, earned a begrudging amount of respect in Saveroks eyes. Plus the new organic slick sheen did fit the man's armors.

Yet something within him still wanted to eat the fething poser alive where he stood. It was only at Carduul Akahl signature stamping of his pole-arm, did the Gen'dai relent and back off. Mandalore the Anointed spoke with a grace and wisdom ages that utterly beguiled Saverok. Who in their right mind would willing turn away from this and even suggest that the title of Mandalore fade into obscurity? The way the room came to a quiet calm as well. In Saveroks eyes, it was more than obvious who was the wiser and more experienced. Even Aether did his best to attempt equalize the moment with his own gesture. Like a student mimicking their teacher. One that had much to learn at that.

Perhaps this new Verd needs time to grow into his ill-begotten role. But Saverok would never voice this aloud. Millennia's of pride prevented that. The thought of which caused Saverok to grin wide and back peddle away and arrive slowly to Mandalore the Anointed's side.

"If it's to continue bickering, I'll continue fighting the Imperialists on my own terms."

" You silly schutta. The grown ups are talking. Go back and squabble with your imperial dogs." He scorned with a grim toothy snarl or maybe it was a smile. Who knew. He then turned his head to Feydrik Munin . His question of 'what if' it was more than valid and right where the Gen'dais mind was as well " You are more than heard, Rallymaster. In my experience some answers, received or not, are better to experience than hear spoken aloud." He said lowly and let his smile fade some. If conflict was the eventual outcome, then it wouldn't be the first time Saverok killed one of his own. Decades ago it was Ember Rekali, but time could only tell if the future saw fit to add a new name to that list. A Verd.

" If you know what I mean." He added.

Tags: Careena Fett Vreegan Fett Aloy Vizsla Runi Kuryida Sari'la Kandosii Ze'bast Verd Aselia Verd

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

Wearing: Beskar'gam + Jacket
Tag: Saverok
Nearby: Carduul Akahl Runi Kuryida Aether Verd Careena Fett Vreegan Fett Sari'la Kandosii Ze'bast Verd Aselia Verd

The rhythmic clicking of her prosthesis stopped at the sound of Saverok 's voice.

Though it grated upon her ears she chuckled.

She did not retort, did not defend her honor words, just laughed at him. though one could be forgiven if they mistook the sound for a beast's slow panting. Aloy Vizsla had served under every Mand'alor since Yasha Cadera died, with the exception of Carduul. She'd fought more wars than most had lived years, killed more Dar'manda than most had seen.

She knew what she was, and there was nothing left to prove.

Still, the former Alor would enjoy this.


She spun around without warning, and with all her cybernetic strength, hurled an armorer's hammer which whistled with every turn, spinning through the air right at the Gen'dai's head. The motion caused it's kinetite generator to create and store energy in a lethal feedback loop, primed to release in a shockwave upon impact with which she'd been known to break beskar and shatter walls, to say nothing of organs this hammer had ruptured and the Death Watch it had flung across rooms,

It didn't matter if she struck true or not, Aloy had already used the momentary distraction to draw her old 45 and project a buckler shield from her gauntlet in preparation for whatever retaliation the creature would summon.

It seemed a shame to raise tensions right after the Mandokarla agreed with her, but it seemed the Mando'ade needed to be reminded of who they were.

And who she was.

 

[Aether Verd]

SUNDARI PALACE, MANDALORE
"Lions, Tigers...Hammers? Oh My."​

The hammer flew.

It cut through the chamber like a war cry, kinetite humming, the air around it warping from the stored violence threatening to burst free.

Aether Verd did not rise.
He did not flinch.
He did not even turn his head.

And like the goading—he simply looked at it.

And the Force answered.

The weapon froze in mid-air, suspended in perfect stillness—momentum stolen from its fury by will alone. There was no flourish, no thunderclap. Just denial. Then, with the gentleness of a father setting down a child’s toy, the hammer reversed course and drifted back across the room, falling with a quiet thud at Aloy Vizsla’s feet.

Aether’s voice followed a breath later.

“You dropped this.”

He leaned back into the throne, one gauntlet idly drumming the armrest.

Then his gaze swept the chamber—one of iron, not fire. Authority, not anger. When he spoke again, it was to all present.

“We’ve reached as much of an accord as we’re going to today. Mandalore is open to you. You may rest. You may travel to loved ones...But if you insist on honoring the ancient tradition of beating the hell out of each other, take it outside Sundari.”

A pause.

“There’s more elbow room out there.”

His tone was light. A hint of sarcasm traced the words. But there was no mistaking the steel beneath them.

Saverok , Aloy Vizsla , Carduul Akahl , Runi Kuryida , Careena Fett , Vreegan Fett , Sari'la Kandosii , Ze'bast Verd , Aselia Verd

 

[Carduul Akahl]

His gauntlet had shifted. A brief salute of his own, to return the gesture of respect. The title of Mand’alor was ever a title taken by necessity. Even the Crusade had put off its prescription for as long as possible. Individuals left to pick up pieces, even now. Did it truly matter, if he let it lie for now? Perhaps some day in the future, it would have to be addressed. As he had said, only time would tell.

“Thus is thine duty, to yours.” Came words in turn. “Do not fail.”

Hand had left where his heart lay. “My duty remains, to mine.”

The crusaders were ever passionate. Ever fervent in their devotion. Perhaps some corner of his mind may even be a touch surprised, that they spoke for him so even after his walk across the void. It made them contentious, but it was beautiful in its own right. Alas, their rage curried more in kind. Even still, that was a good thing. It showed that their people, even outside of the crusade, still had fire. That they were still alive. The hammer was seen with honed eye—just as the other's barest twitch of motion was made, so too did he adjust.

The slightest shift of the poleaxe be gripped, arcing into what it would've been its trajectory to deflect--only for it to whiff with a step sidelong to be in front of the Gen’dai, the force that was forever out of his reach to halt it instead. The Y-Visor was left to level upon it floating back with sorcerous means, as his footing shifted from defensive to an ever-so-slight ease.

“Blood is not to be spilt on this day.” Words came in simple tone, in repeated assertion. T'was as he decreed when he first stepped foot in these halls. “Your passions are recognized, and appreciated, both,” Gaze to peer betwixt the Gen'dai and the weathered Alor. “But let us not sully this day of reunification over squabbles brought on by words.”

The staunch weapon of his choice was grasped in both hands, before coming to rest at his side once more. “I choose words today, because my energy is better directed elsewhere. All of our energies are better spent, that way. To focus, whether it be apart of a cause, or upon one's own terms, on battles that will further the Mando'ade as a whole. Be it against Sith, Jedi, Imperials; all earn glory. All bring change, as sacred decree.” Words left to trail into a softened hum. He did not seek to chastise others, nor seek to hound his own into falling into orderly lines at his beck and call. Today was, meant to be a day of opinions shared. It was how the Mando’ade simply were, to be so derisive. Part of their greatest flaw, and their greatest trait of survival.

“So let us enjoy walking across Manda’yaim for this day. Whether you are wishing to return to it, or not.”

Aether Verd , Feydrik Munin , Runi Kuryida , Aselia Verd , Ze'bast Verd , Careena Fett , Saverok , Aloy Vizsla , @Everyone else

 

[Saverok]

Predictable.

The first portion of what had occurred was felt before Saverok could process. Not from his diminishing force sensitivity, but by rather his physiology. The flexing of muscles, coiling and relaxing into form. It was his first language really. Perception. Saverok could perceive it all through his body. Every breath, every heartbeat and subtle movement felt as if it was his own. So when the unnamed schutta of a mandalorian chose action instead of words, Saverok was more than prepared. Its what he wanted all along. A fight. It was all he knew and was good at. Goading, baiting and intimidation.

This was not to say that the old Gen'dai posed no threat though, after 4402 years of living, Saverok was fully committed to letting that hammer make a mess of his head within the chamber. At best he hoped it would be the perfect storm to fracture this pitiful attempt at unification with the Crusade and this new Mandalorian Empire and at worse he would fall only to rise again, as he always did and commence with ripping off the head of the insect that attacked him and carbon flush it. Or... maybe the Gen'dai would of finally met his end. Assuming his attacker had the decency to finish him off and he would be no more. Nothing would matter.

Not to Saverok.

Then came the unpredictable.

The moment came and even as his own Mand'alor Carduul Akahl began to position himself to react and defend his own. Such honor for a old soldier that deserved none. The Gen'dai felt a surge of excitement, it was hot as a flame and burned even faster till eventually the present moment faded to ashes. The hammers momentum came to a halt and fell to the floor like the first snowflake before a storm. As soon as the flame of conflict started, it had also been seemingly put out.

“You dropped this.”

He leaned back into the throne, one gauntlet idly drumming the armrest...

“We’ve reached as much of an accord as we’re going to today. Mandalore is open to you. You may rest. You may travel to loved ones...But if you insist on honoring the ancient tradition of beating the hell out of each other, take it outside Sundari.”

A pause...

“There’s more elbow room out there.”

There was slight furrow in the Gen'dais brow and twitch in his upper lip at the intervention that had occurred. Another day then. He mused and thought to himself with a single nod. " Ah such conviction!! My thanks." He snorted and cast a tilted head to both men that came to his aid, but his eyes reflected a deeper meaning of intent. Respect. Their actions showing conviction to their causes, even if they were worlds apart.

Saverok flashed a sadistic grin. An expression that was no longer for Aether Verd or Carduul Akahl . With a pivot the Gen'dai lumbered toward the exit in slow long strides, but he made sure to pause long enough and stand in proximity of Aloy Vizsla . " I told YOU, the grown ups are talking! If he is YOUR Mand'alor then pick one. Fight or listen." He scolded the young spitfire like the child he saw her to be. There was nothing he could of said worse. In fact part of his scold was not even his. It was hers.

" So much for reading the room. You fething schutta." He scorned again. Doubling down on what he said before and spitting yet another wad of thick saliva, though this time, it landed toward her boots and hammer on the floor below. As the Gen'dais colossal frame departed projecting a mockingly joyous laugh that echoed in the chamber. " HAH!! AAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" His sick perversion of fun had run its course and his moment of petty resentment of the situation, well, had been taken out on someone else.

He left the hall and departed.

Tags: Runi Kuryida Vreegan Fett Careena Fett Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd Feydrik Munin @Everyone else
[OOC: Exit thread]

 

[Feydrik Munin]

​

Feydrik furrowed his brow at the exchange. Moreso the rampant, blatant use of the force by the Mandalore. A force using, self-appointed, unchallenging, divisive young man, unproven and most importantly-

Not of the clans approval. No Alor council. No challenge. Nothing.

And the will to wield the force so blatantly. It was hard not to draw parallels to the previous Mandalorian Empire. But Feydrik knew immediately that this Empire, so called, would not have his support. The “Mandalore” was weak, unwilling to answer questions, and unwilling to confront the anointed. Simply put:

He was a false successor, a pariah, and not worthy.

Feydrik left.

​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | Sundari, Mandalore​

​

An invisible and silent scowl formed beneath the stoic visor, a point she made to keep on as she only removed it as a sign of respect. ​

​

It was clear that Verd was deaf to reason and answering simple questions. He spoke of those who were weary to be seen, but all she saw was a man who simply wanted to make a half-assed statement that he tried. That was all the seasoned Mandalorian needed to cement her position and standing with this so-called Empire of his. Aether's absence from the last alor'ultai, as well as his absence from the Crusades was a clear indicator to her that he saw as it beneath himself to show any true interest in the future of the Mandalorian people, and thus a farce to garner power for himself, just as she had stated.​

​

As much as Careena would have liked to exchange blows to test their mettle, the Mand'alor that she chose to follow spoke, and as such she held her tongue and kept her hand rested on her holster. She remained silent and still as a statue, as her leader spoke, unfazed by the use of the Force to try to make himself appear more intimidating. Cheap tricks that would do little to sway her mind or position.​

​

Verd's blood was not worth wetting her beskad with this day, because The Annointed had decreed it. But if House Verd were to show its failure to protect the Mandalorian people, she would be among the first to make their return bloody. Such would be the hill that she chose to die upon. The sheep and complacent would follow to bend the knee, but those who had forged themselves in the crucible of war, fanned by the flames of the crusade would stand in defiance. It was only when The Annointed had finished speaking did she speak once more,​

​

"Just as House Verd has refused the call to Crusade, so too shall Clan Fett refuse the call to aid Verd. We fight and serve our people, not a pretender. We will return only to fight when Mandalore and her people are under threat. Pray that you do not betray the one claim that you have made."​

​

With her declaration she too would turn her back upon that of House Verd, unconvinced and unchanged in their view of this new Empire like the other Crusaders, leaving the throne room amongst her comrades. She would continue to serve and fight alongside those who had earned her respect.​

[ Exit ]

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

Wearing: Beskar'gam + Jacket
Tag: Saverok Carduul Akahl Aether Verd Careena Fett
Nearby: Feydrik Munin Runi Kuryida Aselia Verd Sari'la Kandosii Ze'bast Verd

Aloy kept her gun trained on the Gen'dai, even as Carduul Akahl stepped between them.

It was not until her hammer, a solid chunk of heavy beskar and wrath, began floating that she allowed herself a sidelong glance at Aether Verd . And an accompanying snarl befitting the fang-flanked buy'ce.

If anything that single act told her more than even the crusader's claims. The writing was on the wall again.

And as Saverok wandered off without even offering a duel as would befit a crusader, the former Hand of the Mand'alor realized just how far her people had fallen as a whole. All bark and no bite.

"If he is YOUR Mand'alor then pick one. Fight or listen."

"You're soft in the head if you think he's my Mand'alor."

To say nothing of her clear choice to fight.

She sighed, disruptor still trained on the Gen'dai until the door shut behind him.

It was not until he departed that she begrudgingly shoved her pistol back in it's holster, then used her boot to fling the hammer back up into her waiting hand.

She would not be made to bow, not even to retrieve her weapons.

"Fett'alor has the right of it, neither will my people take part in this."

Aloy nodded to Careena Fett , then cast one last glance at the others.

"We serve no master but the Manda." she said, twirling the hammer into it's sheath as easy as any pistol.

The commandos around her knew their cue, departing benches and shaded corners to leave. She didn't look back even as she finished, just waved dismissively on her way out.

Like Carduul, her energy was better spent elsewhere it seemed. Like raising her grandchild, or killing more Sith.

"The Black Fleet declares Akaan'gaan once more."

"You crusaders are free to call upon us when there's Sith to crush again."

"Or whoever's got the stomach for it first, I 'spose." not that she saw another group trying anytime soon.

"Till then, anyone who wishes to argue with this ancient rite may do so upon a dueling field."

Her voice carried through the last crack in the door before it shut with reverberating finality.

[Exit]

 

[Sari'la Kandosii]

​

The young mandalorian barely any wiser on who she should be following, but it was not something that needed to be answered immediately so she could wait, she could do everything she knew and be am asset to her culture without bothering about which ego sat at the top.

The way that Aether Verd stopped the hammer make her uncomfortable, so the man claiming to be their cultural leader was some kind of Jedi or worse. She was programmed to venerate a mand'alor but was also programmed to despise force users in all their forms, this dichotomy twisted her stomach and it pushed her adrenaline levels up making her desire violence. This meant she was quite disappointed when the conversation ended without resolution.

"Shouldn't there be a challenge by combat, alor?" her sergeant asked her beside her.

"Traditionally yes i believe, maybe." her flash training was a hundred and thirty years old, it could be out of date, perhaps the traditions have changed. She shook her head and simply allowed the meeting to begin to wind down.

Aether Verd Careena Fett Vreegan Fett Feydrik Munin Runi Kuryida Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd Saverok

 

[Lorcan Nanu]

Lorcan Nanu sat high on a rafter looking down at the spectacle. The diminutive Mandalorian was finishing a small piece of jerky as part of his "eating and resting." That was what they had been invited to do, after all, though none of the giants in the room seemed to understand such a simple request. Nanu did not care who called himself what, this guy seemed like a decent enough guy.

As the scene unfolded down below, Nanu removed two corn kernels from his pack and heated them with his flamethrower. He now had some popcorn to enjoy with the show. He found himself slightly disappointed that his did not get to watch the Gen'Dai's head pop. That would have been fun. Perhaps a bit inappropriate though. Gen'Dai blood would stink, and the color would not do well to the aesthetics of this chamber. Anzellen, now, that would have been a beautiful blood to use as paint. Nice shade of purple.

Finishing his popcorn, he jumped down from the rafter, using his tiny jetpack to light upon the back of the throne. "All right, all you childish fleas. If you're done squabbling like a nerf nanny that needs to be milked, perhaps we can get to something more important. Your Mini'Alor would like to drink with his brethren!" He flourished his arms dramatically. "You are all welcome to join me; be honored!"

Nanu paused and grew a little extra serious[/i]. "But before that, let me say this one thing. Are we not all Mando'ade? Does it really matter who calls himself leader? Because we are all leaders. We lead our own lives, our own clans. Sure, you may not all be as mighty as the great Lorcan Nanu, yet you are still mighty. The mightiest of the mighty. Mightylorians. Some with Mighty-chlorians. Whatever tools we have at our disposal, let's not forget that we are brethren. Even when we disagree, fight, hate, or kill each other. Let us never disrespect one another."

He paused and shrugged. "Unless it's really, really funny."

TAG: Everyone Here​