Faction Ordo and Chaos || Mandalorian Empire

[Runi Kuryida]

​

Ordo is a world situated on the edge of the Mandalorian Core; predominantly a barren desert, it is the homeworld of the Clan bearing its namesake, and the destination of those whose shuttle drew near the surface that very moment.

Other shuttles would follow to deliver archaeologists and spiritualists in turn, but the ship at the fore carried most of those that came to learn of their own history. Warmaster Runi Kuryida of the Mandalorian Knights had invited all with the gift of the Manda, or desire to learn more of their heritage – those with a desire to uncover truths long buried, and revelations that would empower the future.

The cloaked figure leaned forward to examine the pilot’s readouts. “There. One click at two-eight zero.” An open and level plateau for the ship to set down in a mountainous region of Ordo. It only took a few more seconds for the transport to sweep into position and lower itself to the rocky outcropping they’d selected.

In that time, Runi stepped back into the passenger section to look at those present. “We came here to learn. Not only of the past, but of your present. Listen well and the ancestors will reward you well. Do poorly…” The Shaman didn’t complete the statement as the light at the back turned green and the ramp began to fall so they could exit the shuttle.

Outside, the skies held a sea of broken tufts of cotton known as altocumulus clouds. The wind was less than two miles per hour, with little but the scorch of heat radiating from both the sun and the baked ground to tantalize the senses. Inhuman noses might pick up earthy scents, but little in the way of either animal or vegetable in the area.

A cleft in the towering rock face opposite the sheer drop of their landing area led deeper into the mountainous region the group found themselves. It was in that direction that Runi began to move to encourage those with her not to dawdle too long admiring the view. There were other vessels that would be dropping off others, and it was not a very large landing area. Perhaps it had been larger long ago before the weather and desert wore it away.

“Construction of this refuge first began around four thousand B.B.Y. It was three thousand years later when it was revitalized for its original purpose by Tarre Vizsla himself.” Runi looked back over her shoulder at the group. “Does anyone recognize this name?”

Spoiler: Objectives

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE
Location: Lost Temple of Ordo
Join the Warmaster and Shaman Runi Kuryida for a guided tour of the Ordo Temple grounds including the training grounds, council chambers, and terrace to explore the history of Manda (Force) usage among the Mandalorians. Grow in power, endurance, or will with lessons from the past guiding your steps into the future.

OBJECTIVE II: HAMMER AND ANVIL
Location: Clan Ordo
Visit the birthplace of Clan Ordo. Visit the rugged and determined people that make a living on the barren world outside of its green zone. Learn from some of their greatest Armorsmiths and Forge Masters, or explore the greater city in all its glory.

OBJECTIVE III: BYOO
Bring Your Own Objective / Story
Explore the wider world of Ordo, pursuing your own agenda.

Spoiler: Tags

Lynn Caromed
Fabula Caromed
Is'ekapi Rex
Dreidi Xeraic
Grym Lok
Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
Raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn Varkor
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Valenti Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Ordo
Tags: Runi Kuryida

“Construction of this refuge first began around four thousand B.B.Y. It was three thousand years later when it was revitalized for its original purpose by Tarre Vizsla himself.” Runi looked back over her shoulder at the group. “Does anyone recognize this name?”

"Ah, well that would be the Mand'alor who constructed the Darksaber," Zel piped up. As a scribe and aspiring historian looking to document the known history of the Galaxy he was acutely familiar. "He was taken to the Jedi Order around roughly 1050 BBY, where the blade was constructed. He would return to Mandalore and take the ultimate title. That is why the Darksaber became the vessel of succession, at least in the times in which it was not at large."

And how fascinating that it was that for all the history they had with the Jedi Order, something so monumental for their culture would be born. Zel had come to understand this ebb and flow as it recurred throughout documented history, written in the walls of temples and preserved in crumbling ruins. Did something deeper draw their peoples together, or was it simply the nature of the two cultures? It would certainly be difficult for one to ignore the other. It was a history that was bound to continue to wax and wayne as they marched forward through time.

"I'm sure one could write a dissertation on such a man. Not a matter I have the time to tackle," he lamented. " One can only hope that the refuge has been left in favorable condition. The Archaic Arsenal was not so lucky. Fortunately the dry climate is most favorable for long-term open air preservation, and I imagine the terrain's rugged nature has helped insulate it well enough."

What a joyous day it was. Zel was always thrilled to be on an archaeological expedition, and this was no doubt the highlight of his career as a scribe. He was certainly giddy under his unusually dome-shaped helmet.

And, of course, he was prepared to document every little thing with the highest level of detail.

 

[Zee Caromed]

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE

Zee wasn't used to being outside on a world this bright. Not for this long. Not this open.

Of course, the appropriate environmental issues could be solved by equipment. In Zee's case, sunglasses and lotion.

From the polluted ecumenopolis of Taris, Zee had grown up in sealed environments and under thick radioactive clouds. He could hardly be blamed for handling the sunlight poorly, and in his own opinion was doing a fantastic job of it! Wearing flexible shorts and a simple shirt with his clan's logo on it, Zee had his green coarseweave Life-Bearer sash around his waist and his armorweave bag over his shoulder - his beskar'gam's helmet clipped to a place of honor and within easy reach.

While he wasn't out in full uniform, Zee was representing Clan Caromed after all. The handle of his blaster was visible from his bag, his mother's beskad'ika worn in a harness at the small of his back. There was, he reflected, a fairly good chance it'd been made here. Lynn Caromed had carried the pair since she'd come of age and taken them from somebody who hadn't deserved them, the same way he'd claimed one from her the first time he'd bested her.

Doing his best to be an attentive tour attendant, Zalke kept his eyes focused on Runi Kuryida .

The history, he didn't care that much about. The process, the skills and mastery that went into all that equipment? Now THAT was a subject of interest. And, if nothing else, Zee was open to having his mind changed on tradition. Things changed quickly on Taris, and the past hadn't always been kind to Caromed anyway. But he was here to give it a shot, and learn what he could.

​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

Tag: Runi Kuryida Zee Caromed Zel Sharratt​

The heat didn't bother him. It clung to his frame like it belonged there, it was a dry, biting wind skimming over sun-hardened durasteel and worn leather. Helmet cradled under one arm, Adonis moved in silence with the others, his eyes on the path ahead. His heavy armor bore the dust of many worlds, and his expression, which had once show innocence, had begun to calcify since the campaign against Harrow. What had once been the face of a warrior-in-training now held the quiet gravity of a man tempered by war.

Sweat darkened the hairs at his temples, it was longer than regulation, pushed back with little care for neatness. A thin scar ran diagonally across his cheekbone, one of the fresher marks that never quite faded when you were cannon fodder. The golden-brown of his eyes was still warm, still alive, but there was a weight behind them now, one that was earned in the field, not inherited.

He followed a few respectful paces behind the Warmaster, boots crunching over ancient stone as Runi Kuryida led them toward the cleft in the rock. The mountain opened before them like a wound in the world, steeped in age and meaning. There was no temple music, no incense, just the wind, the sun, and silence. But Adonis had learned long ago that the Force didn't need ceremony to speak, it only required space to be heard.

When the name Tarre Vizsla passed from Runi's lips, Adonis felt a flicker of breath catch in his chest. Not because he didn't know it, but because he did. He'd heard that name before, not in books or lectures, but in war zones. Carved into history with a blade, it had been murmured like prayer in the darkness of foxholes. It had been shouted in rage and reverence by warriors on both sides of the Force. Tarre Vizsla was one of the first pieces of Mandalorian history he had learned after joining the Knights.

Angelis opened his mouth to speak, to give voice to the stories he had fought beside, bled beside, but Zel answered first, and he answered well.

Adonis didn't interrupt. The Knight simply nodded along quietly. The words didn't need to come from him to be true, and legacy wasn't diminished by being shared.

They walked on, and as the group moved forward, Adonis drifted toward Zee, the Taris-born medic in flexible garb, his sash catching sunlight, the weight of his weapons well-worn but accessible. Adonis didn't say much, just leaned in slightly, voice pitched low, only for Zee to hear.

"You don't have to care about the stories," he murmured, "but pay attention to what survived. A blade doesn't last this long unless it was meant to."

His gaze returned to the path ahead and toward the shadowed temple mouth and the shaman who led them.

"Neither do we."

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE
Location: Lost Temple of Ordo
Interacting with: Runi Kuryida Adonis Angelis IV Zee Caromed Zel Sharratt

Sibylla had never quite imagined she'd trade polished marble corridors for jungle ruins, but here she was with boots crunching over weathered stone, her dark trousers and boots already gathering a fine coat of grime and dust.

She stood beside her deputy, Corde Tsabin as they listened to Warmaster Runi Kuryida. The heat pressed in thick so Sibylla was grateful she'd abandoned her usual ambassadorial gowns for something far more practical, a black and teal leather jerkin, reinforced and close fitted to her slender form, paired with dark slacks and a stubborn refusal to wilt.

The young Ambassador for the High Republic to Mandalore inclined her head slightly as the armored Zel offered a polished recounting of Tarre Vizsla's legacy. Dates, succession, the rhythm of historical rise and fall. His voice held the cadence of someone in love with the past, and despite the academic flavor of his words, Sibylla found herself quietly intrigued.

When he finished, she offered a faint smile.

Then her gaze shifted back to the temple path ahead. Wind kicked up a thread of dust, curling around her boots like a whisper.

"It is fascinating," she murmured quietly to Corde, " That the Mandalorians and the Jedi found themselves interacting in orbit. Opposition, alliance, inheritance. No matter how wide the galaxy stretches, their histories seem to braid together...resisting one another, yet shaped by the same gravity."

Her eyes found a cluster of weatherworn carvings half buried along the cliffside, symbols dulled by time but still unmistakably Mandalorian.

"Perhaps Tarre Vizsla wasn't an outlier," she murmured more thoughtfully.

"Perhaps he was a mirror held up to both sides. Proof that identity doesn't have to come at the expense of legacy."

 

[Zee Caromed]

OBJECTIVE I: THE LOST TEMPLE OF ORDO

"You don't have to care about the stories," he murmured, "but pay attention to what survived. A blade doesn't last this long unless it was meant to."

His gaze returned to the path ahead and toward the shadowed temple mouth and the shaman who led them.

"Neither do we."

Zee's eyes flit up towards The Breaker, briefly annoyed but quickly softening. "I'm trying." He promised quietly, a little embarrassed at being quietly reprimanded. It wasn't that he actively disdained the past, but moreover? He didn't want to rude or disrespectful to the shaman or the other attendants. Trying to force himself to pay attention to a historical tour on a hot day was like trying to force a cube of ice to stick to a hot grill with one finger, but at the end of the day Zee was at least aware that this was his shortcoming. He wouldn't want it to hurt someone's feelings.

He'd hurt feelings before, certainly. But only on his own terms.

A part of him felt that he aught to assert himself in response and warn the tall fellow from House Angelis off of giving him orders, but this wasn't the time or place for that. Besides, he couldn't fault somebody for caring about a thing, even if he was struggling with it. It just wasn't in Zee's nature. While he refused to apologize, Zee did manage a mildly apologetic look before moving to stand a little more in the shade and take a small sip from a canteen of water. Perhaps offsetting the heat and bright more would help him with his flagging concentration, and stop him from being further chastised. If he embarrassed the clan, he'd probably be thrown through a window or something - especially on such a traditional sort of matter as this one.

​

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Ordo
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes , Zee Caromed , Adonis Angelis IV , Runi Kuryida

"Perhaps he was a mirror held up to both sides. Proof that identity doesn't have to come at the expense of legacy."

"That is true of any people with longevity like our own, historically," Zel noted. "Our culture has survived for thousands of years in some shape or form, and I would say the spirit of Manda burns as bright as ever. What people do with that spirit is a different matter. You could say the same of the Jedi Order and their Force. The more things change, the more they also return to their state of origin. A cycle, like how winter and summer will never truly conquer the other. That being said, it is clear why our cultures have interacted for so long."

Zel, of course, was happy to yap about the topic. The Ambassador was simply a means of enabling him to wax about the events which led them to the present day.

"I believe I heard from a Galactic Alliance senatorial debate recently someone describe Mandalorians as a keystone civilization," he recalled. "In nature a keystone species is something that dramatically alters their entire ecosystem simply by being present. Because our people are always in motion, we enact change wherever our boots land. This expands our reach across the galaxy. You could say that, in a similar vein, the Jedi are also a keystone. We are both dramatic forces of progress, and as such occupy the same space. The Mandalorian Empire is a boundary that defines our home in the present, but one clad in Beskar'gam will not decide to stay home because a line was drawn in the sand. When two predators occupy the same land, interaction is inevitable. Turn that ecosystem into a 120,000 light-year diameter of open space and you can stretch that out for thousands of years."

 

[Runi Kuryida]

​

Runi turned her head to regard Zel Sharratt as he quickly responded to her question. It was a succinct answer to the question going a little further than mere recognition. A student of history? Given his follow-up reference to the Archaic Arsenal's fate in comparison to the Darksaber it would be difficult to refute the label. "Correct," she replied calmly, but with a hint of approval. It was good that certain elements and people of their culture not be forgotten.

As they strode between the walls of rock, the Shaman could clearly hear the group's banter. There was no soft matter to absorb the sound here. As engrossed as they were, however, the Shaman wasn't about to tell them to be quiet. There was a sacredness to places of antiquity, but not so much to stifle genuine enthusiasm.

"Truer than you know," the Shaman's voice echoed quietly from the fore in response to both Zel and Sibylla Abrantes

"The foundation of this temple was laid only years after Mandalore the Indomitable's decree. Before his legacy shaped much of what followed. When the Mandalorian people and the Jedi held a belief in balance or in growth in common. Not growth as in the borders of an Empire, but of the soul." Runi looked back over her shoulder then at Zel, a slight curl to the corner of her lips. "When Mandalorians revered Kad Ha'rangir, god of change, for their battle against Arasuum, god of complacency. A belief easily turned to conquest by Mandalore the Indomitable."

"But while one thing was lost, another was gained," Runi declared as they stepped out of the cleft and into a towering chamber. Its ceiling was shattered allowing the rays of the sun to beam across the chiseled entryway of the hidden refuge. She strode calmly across the undisturbed stone of the cavern to give the group time to process what she'd said so far, and to admire the construct that loomed high in this place.

Zee Caromed | Adonis Angelis IV | Sibylla Abrantes | Zel Sharratt | OPEN​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I
Tag: Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt Sibylla Abrantes Zee Caromed

The heat was starting to creep under the collar of his armor. Even without the helmet, the desert had a way of finding every gap, every seal, every breath not meant to last under a sun like this. It wasn't unbearable, at least not yet, but Ordo made you work for your reverence. Every step beneath its sky felt like a silent challenge, and Adonis didn't mind the labor. You were supposed to earn places like this.

As they stepped through the stone cleft and into the temple's inner chamber, the air shifted. Light poured through the shattered ceiling in clean, violent beams, slashing across ancient stone like judgment frozen in motion. Dust motes swirled in the high air, and silence reigned, not the stillness of emptiness, but the kind that watched. It pressed down with unseen weight, and Adonis felt it settle low in his chest, where instinct and memory lived. The moment his boots touched the chamber floor, something in his body stilled. It wasn't fear or awe exactly. Like the room itself was waiting to be remembered.

He moved slowly, scanning the architecture, chiseled edges softened by time, carvings half-erased by wind and grit, but not lost. The echoes of purpose hung in the air, this place was sacred, and not just because someone claimed it was.

Even in the gravity of that silence, he caught the way Zee had glanced toward him earlier. There'd been no malice in it, just uncertainty. Adonis paused beside the slightly younger Mandalorian, letting the dust catch in his wake, and leaned in slightly with a quiet voice.

"Didn't mean to put you on blast, vod" he said, tone calm but direct. "Just wanted your attention. You're here. That's what matters."

He gave a short nod, more gesture than dismissal, an acknowledgment between warriors, not superior and subordinate. Then he turned back toward the group and toward Runi, who now stood near the center of the chamber as sunlight danced around her.

The air was thick with heat and memory, but also something deeper, something harder to name. Sibylla's voice still lingered in his thoughts. A mirror, she had said. Tarre Vizsla as reflection rather than exception. That idea cut deeper than he expected. Because no matter where he stood, people looked at him and saw Jedi. They saw the saber. The calm exterior. The way he spoke more with his stance than his mouth. Because he didn't shoot first, most of the time.

But he wasn't a Jedi. Never even had been.

The Code had never sat right with him. There was no peace in him, only the slow, burning press of discipline honed into control. He moved toward justice, yes, but his compass wasn't drawn by doctrine. He cared too much, held on too tightly, he fought harder than he was told to, and he never asked the Force for permission. There was no clarity, nor detachment, just conviction.

And still, he stood here, among Mandalorians who believed. Who wore myth like armor and legacy like blood. And the strangest part of all was that it felt more like home than the Jedi Temple ever could. He had found his purpose among his family here, and it had shown over with his tenure among them.

He exhaled slowly and let his eyes fall on a line of sunlit carvings etched along the temple wall. Ancient glyphs, dulled by sand and time, but still alive in their design. His voice carried across the space, low but steady, meant for the room as much as for the people within it.

"Kad Ha'rangir was the god of change," he said, gaze tracking the markings as though they might answer him. "Enemy of Arasuum, the enemy of stagnation."

He glanced toward Zel, then to Sibylla, and finally to Runi, anchoring himself in the shared weight of their presence.

"I don't think Tarre Vizsla set out to be a symbol. He fought where he had to, led when no one else would. Didn't ask what it meant, he just kept moving. Now we look back and call it legacy because it's easier than admitting how hard that kind of life is."

He paused, gaze flicking upward toward the broken ceiling where sunlight poured in, stark and uneven.

"I wonder if Kad Ha'rangir ever meant for us to revere him like this. Change doesn't usually build temples, it burns them down."

The words weren't bitter. Just plain. A truth he'd been circling for some time.

"Maybe that's why this place was hidden. Maybe it wasn't built for preservation. Just for whoever came next."

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt Adonis Angelis IV Zee Caromed Sibylla Abrantes

She had debated coming at all. Athena was not known for depth of soul, her personal convictions, thoughts and desires hidden behind a cavalier attitude and a sardonic mouth. But the Korun was no fool. She was young, not necessarily in age, but in her walk as a Mandalorian. Not raised in the Way, she came to serve under it as Aruetii, only earning the honor of foundling a few years ago.

As such, she had much to learn. What the Warmaster offered was a unique opportunity to explore more deeply what it meant to be Mando'ade. History informed identity, and identity was the foundation upon which anyone's character developed. But her presence there was more than just understanding more about what was now her people.

As Korun, Athena had inherited the flicker of connection with the Force. It wasn't called that among her people, and it was only nurtured for use in a specific, practical way. In the jungles of Haruun Kal, that connection allowed certain individuals to communicate and bond with fauna. Athena thought little more of it, until walking the Way with the Mandalorian Empire.

The Knights, the Spiritspeakers, Runi Kuryida, they inspired Athena to consider that she may have potential beyond her gifts with animals. The trip to Ordo, she hoped, might spark something that would allow her to grow in what they called the Manda.

The heat didn't bother the dark woman. The jungles of her childhood were hot. It was the dryness that sucked the moisture from her that mildly irritated her. Dust choked her dry throat and nostrils. She wore light armor, borrowed, while Red Mobius crafted her new armor. It was a deal made, the armor for labor. Athena's helmet remained cradled under her arm.

It was a curious tour group, from warriors to a medic, historian and, of all things, a beautiful Naboo noble. Quietly treading at the back of the group, the dragon rider listened. This was a learning experience. The wordy scribe proved a font of knowledge, but Athena didn't fully accept it until Runi acknowledged its truth. Athena gave full, open attention to the narration. Already, the gravity of the place, of the sacred history, sobered the warrior.

Athena moved up next to Adonis, after he spoke. She had first met the Knight on Taris, and they had hit it off. But she offered no sarcastic comment or jaunty greeting this time. She simply offered the Knight a crooked smile, the scar on her own cheek shifting with the facial gesture. "These names, I may know a sentence about each..." She spoke softly, also unusual for the gregarious woman, "...But I can feel the weight of them, spoken here." Her emerald eyes shifted to take in the chamber, being within it moving, even in its runied state.

Athena's gaze moved to the Shaman. Runi Kuryida had only garnered more respect from the Korun since first seeing her in the Hall of Banners. Not only for her role as Warmaster, but for her spiritual mystery. Athena found her so intriguing.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE
Location: Lost Temple of Ordo
Interacting with: Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt
Nearby: Athena Faar Adonis Angelis IV Zee Caromed


Sibylla tilted her chin upward as sunlight spilled through the broken ceiling, following Runi into the towering chamber. The air here felt heavier somehow, with a scent thick in clay and stone.

The young Ambassador mused on Zel Sharratt 's words regarding Mandalorians, the Jedi, and the Spirit of Manda, and how that could potentially be the same with the Jedi and their Force. She turned slightly toward him, her tone poised and curious.

"Your comparison to keystone species is rather apt, Master Zel," Sibylla added, and while she kept her expression schooled in cordial plesentry, her mind went back to the Mandalorian Raids at her home at Dee'ja Peak. They had certainly enacted change the moment their boots touched the ground at the Capitol and Theed.

Look where they were now? With Sibylla appointed as their Ambassador.

The God of Change indeed.

"Forgive me, for I claim no sensitivity to the Force myself, but I've always found it curious. If Mandalorians and Jedi have danced through history as opposing and sometimes allying forces, what of other Force traditions? The Sith, for instance, have the Clans crossed or joined sabers with them as often, or has that particular dance been reserved for Jedi alone?" Sibylla asked to Runi Kuryida and Zel Sharratt , as the young Ambassador only knew of the Sith, so she had no reference point for any other Force Traditions that the Clans may have been in contact with.

So there was no judgment in her tone, only a diplomat's curiosity of one who had very little understanding of the Force and its nuances other than what she had been exposed to with Lysander. Perhaps this was a way for her to understand him better and the path he had chosen.

"Surely the Manda, like the Force itself, finds echo in many tongues. It would be a loss to presume the Jedi were the only mirror worth reflecting against."

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Ordo
Tags: Runi Kuryida , Sibylla Abrantes , Zee Caromed , Adonis Angelis IV , Athena Faar

If Mandalorians and Jedi have danced through history as opposing and sometimes allying forces, what of other Force traditions? The Sith, for instance, have the Clans crossed or joined sabers with them as often, or has that particular dance been reserved for Jedi alone?

"Very good question," Zel mused. "Our lorekeeper here has already mentioned a name that expresses this case well: Mandalore the Indomitable. When the ancient Mandalorian Crusaders made for Empress Teta, he would face the fallen Ulic Qel-Droma in battle: a legendary Jedi who, in his younger years, was swayed to the path of the Sith by the Krath. When he was bested by the Sith, he would pledge his allegiance to their cause. The Sith, of course, are not an ancient ally. They have seen Mandalorians as a vessel for conflict, a mace to be wielded against their enemies. It is manipulation which has defined those interactions. Take the mask of the original Mand'alor. Revan and Malac would use it to cut off the line of succession and criple the Mandalorian people. Sometimes they would turn us on each-other. The Deathwatch would be made into the personal militia of a Sith agent in the Clone Wars. And, of course, everyone knows what the Kainite inacted when our kind did not capitulate. When necessary, alliances can be made. That being said, history reminds one to not let a Sith see your exposed flank."

As they came through the cavern to a towering chamber, Zel couldn't help but pause to admire the atmosphere. This place was charged with energy, the sort that reminded you of the movement of people from long ago. The refuge was truly a spectacular thing. It was rather impressive that such a space had undergone little modification. Much of the stone was naturally occurring where it was found.

"Truly beautiful," he muttered. "Remember, if you pick up an artifact return it to the exact place you found it. They belong to those who've passed on."

 

[Runi Kuryida]

​

Runi nodded in Adonis Angelis IV 's direction as he spoke of Tarre Vizsla's struggles and legacy. "Change, like strength, comes in many forms," she replied to his rumination about Kad Ha'rangir. "At times to build. Others to destroy. And some," she turned to look at the temple, "misplaced until they are found again."

Sibylla Abrantes next expressed an interest in traditions next, which Zel Sharratt ran with freely. The Shaman listened to the educated man express fact and thought in reply to their Ambassador's question. She patiently listened to his recount, not about to interrupt someone with an interest in history.

She extended a hand toward the group and turned to lead the way through the entrance of the temple. A large, stone corridor extended into the rockface to emerge on the otherside of the towering wall and reveal another chamber. This one with a floating platform secured on either end over a deep pit. "It is good you mention Revan. He was one of the earliest influences and connections between the Mandalorian and Jedi forces. A prodigy for his time, well regarded in the Order, and an outstanding warrior. It was his defeat of Mandalore the Ultimate that ended the war and the construction of this temple," Runi's voice echoed off the stone until they began to cross the stone bridge.

"I will save Revan's later life and his interaction with our people for another time, perhaps." The Shaman nodded in Zel's direction, should he be interested in exchanging commentary. "And I will say that while arguments could be made we and the Sith both believe in strength and power, it is also true that we both breathe air or require food to survive." To distill a people down to a single word would leave out a host of subtle and crucial differences. "Our clashes with the Jedi are often as warriors, but those of Sith are for survival," she explained for Sibylla's benefit.

A soft chuckle soon followed. "I would speak of the Manda at length, Ambassador, as well if you are interested in how it compares to other beliefs." It was, after all, a subject of personal importance.

The Shaman folded her hands together and bowed her head for a moment. Currents of unseen power swirled in the Manda (Force) over the open platform. They grew stronger at an alarming rate until there was a surge that radiated outward from the center of the platform. As it swept over the group, they could suddenly see the figures of Mandalorians dressed in armor similar to the Neo-Crusader Armor several thousand years hence.

Ancient Mandalorians held melee weapons and stood in rows and columns with their helmets facing the far end of the platform. Before another corridor that led deeper into the facility stood a lone Mandalorian with their gaze out over the host that thrust, parried, and defended against imagined foes. Sharp grunts accompanied the full weight of their strikes.

Runi's chin lifted and her hazel eyes opened once more. "There are two more moments in time I can show you. Three opportunities, but you can only choose one to learn old knowledge that will strengthen you even today." She would leave it at that to guage their interest, their reactions, and their questions.

Adonis Angelis IV | Athena Faar | Sibylla Abrantes | Zee Caromed | Zel Sharratt | OPEN​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I
Tag: Athena Faar Sibylla Abrantes Zee Caromed Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt

He didn't expect her to speak, Athena moved quietly beside him, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. No taunt, nor drawl to her words. Just a quiet truth. The scar on her cheek shifted with a half-smile as she spoke, and he caught himself looking a little longer than he meant to before nodding once.

He cleared his throat lightly. "It's different when you stand where they stood," he said. "You don't need the stories for it to mean something."

There wasn't anything polished about the words, but he meant them. And she had earned her place here same as any of them. That was what counted when the cards fell.

He shifted his attention forward again as the Warmaster moved toward the stone corridor. The group followed her into the next chamber, their footfalls muted under the weight of the space itself. The air thickened. Not from dust, but from something older. Like the ground remembered who had walked it before.

Then the power shifted. It rolled over them, not like flame or wind, but like a tide pulled up from beneath the stone. Adonis felt it pass through his ribs and settle behind his sternum. The vision snapped into focus with a clarity that felt too sharp to be memory.

They now stood among the dead, not like they had with Harrow, no. Neo-Crusaders, locked in perfect form, rows of them moving as one, sparring against invisible enemies with precision that spoke of nothing but conviction. This wasn't ceremony, this was training. Purpose turned into a rhythm carved into flesh and armor.

He took a slow breath, absorbing it all. Their armor reminded him of old holos, of battlefield chants and broken bones. But what struck him more was what they weren't doing. They weren't posing, they weren't standing in victory, they were still fighting.

He didn't speak as the Warmaster offered the choice. There were three moments, three opprotunities for wisdom, but only one could be viewed. He didn't need to say what he wanted to see, he already knew.

Not their triumph, nor the rise. He wanted to see where it nearly fell apart, Adonis wanted to see the moment everything cracked, and the ones who stayed. His eyes lingered on the lone figure at the far edge of the formation. Not a leader in posture, not yet, but someone watching. Measuring. Deciding.

Adonis stood still. He didn't need to add anything more to the moment, not with words.

Just with presence.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

ORDO

The low hum of a repulsor engine faded behind him as Aether stepped onto the temple path, the last to arrive without ceremony or retinue. Dust swirled under his boots while the heat of Ordo pressed against the skin of his neck. His arrival was quiet enough that he caught the end of Sibylla’s question and Zel’s measured answer, the words rolling into Runi’s offer of a moment in time, presented like a gift waiting to be chosen.

He raised a hand once, open, palm facing the group, the gesture clear enough. He was here off-the-clock, so they need not shape the world around him just because he had decided to walk among them today.

His stride was steady as he approached, eyes scanning the ancient architecture, the broken ceiling, the fractured light pouring down. He closed the distance to Adonis first, his presence settling beside the younger warrior like the quiet weight of a mountain. Without hesitation, Aether draped an arm across Adonis’ shoulders, drawing him in with the ease of familiarity, his hand thumping lightly against the center of the man’s chest before he let him go. It was rare for him to offer affection so openly, but Adonis had earned it with sweat and steel, with how he carried the Resol’nare across every battlefield he graced.

Athena received a ginger thump of his fist against her shoulder, a quiet grin lighting his eyes as he regarded her. “Not used to seeing you without a dragon in tow.” he remarked, warmth in his tone, the kind reserved for those who had fought hard for their place.

He caught Zee’s eye and lifted his chin, a quick greeting that needed no words, the silent exchange of cousins who understood each other well enough without them.

His gaze moved to Sibylla, the diplomat in their midst, and he inclined his head. “Thank you for joining us,” he said, the words carrying genuine respect. To Runi, his tone matched the gravity of the place around them. “Thank you for your guidance, Warmaster.” His eyes fell on Zel, whom he did not know personally, but the respect was present all the same. “And thank you for your insight, I appreciate you all.”

He rolled his shoulders once, the plates of his armor shifting as he looked across the group, letting the silence speak for a moment before continuing, “Since I am the rotten egg, I will not let my preference color the experience. This is your moment to choose.”

His hand moved to his belt, unclipping the Darksaber, its weight familiar as he held it up with a small, crooked smile. The black blade did not ignite, the hilt catching the fractured light above them. Aether offered it toward Zel with lightness in his words, “That said...This is one artifact that will come home with me, if that’s alright.”​

Athena Faar Sibylla Abrantes Zee Caromed Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt Adonis Angelis IV + Open

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE
Location: Lost Temple of Ordo
Interacting with: Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt Adonis Angelis IV
Nearby: Athena Faar Zee Caromed

Sibylla said nothing at first. Her gaze wandered across the worn temple walls as Zel spoke of ancient Sith and Mandalorian wars. The young ambassador's brow furrowed slightly as she mused on this further, trying her best to balance a cordial expression as expected of a politician with her personal interests.

So far, everything she'd heard painted the Sith as dangerous and cunning. Like the Royal Houses of Naboo, only bloodier...always scheming, always two moves ahead.

Her thoughts drifted to Lysander von Ascania .

He trained with them now.... had said it was for strength. For perspective. A challenge to push his limits, offer more growth, and reveal new things he might not have discovered otherwise. Sibylla had teased him, saying this was his early midlife asctic crisis in the desert, but she knew there was more to it there. However, from what little he shared about Korriban, it sounded almost... ordinary. Alchemy. Botany... granted poison classes, but considering her own Grandfather had almost been poisoned by a rival house, not something far off a Royal might learn to protect themselves from it. Sparring with a roommate who was now his friend. It seemed almost like an Academy of sorts, an intensive one at that.

And yet, underneath it all, she knew better. Power came with a price. She'd watched people hide ambition behind beautiful lies her whole life. Were the Sith no different at it? Just more dangerous because of the way they can handle the Force?

Still... it had been his hands that had healed her.

Her fingers brushed her shoulder, where pink skin remained from the burn Lysander had sealed with the Force during the first Mandalorian raid on Naboo. Surreal, that memory. She still teased him for it, but it had left a mark. Not only on her skin, but somewhere deeper.

All these internal muses, however, shifted when the Shaman raised her hands and power swept through the chamber. Sibylla watched in awe as ghostly warriors formed on the platform, locked in silent combat. Their movements were purposeful, echoing through time.

It felt... sacred.

She found her voice quietly, eyes never leaving the vision.

"Yes. I would like that very much." At the offer of learning more about the Manda.

As a follower of Shiraya and the Naboo pantheon, she couldn't help but wonder...had the gods once been Force users? Revered not because they were divine, but because they seemed to be?

The Manda'lore 's arrival drew Sibylla's attention and her thoughts. She stepped forward with grace and gratitude at Aether Verd 's words and offered a respectful incline of her head.

"Thank you for your welcome, Mand'alor. I am learning much already. It is an honor to be here."

She didn't ask to choose what came next. This wasn't her story.

"I will follow where you lead," she replied, inclining her head towards the rest of the Mandalorian group. "This is your history. I'm here to understand it."

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Ordo
Tags: Aether Verd , Sibylla Abrantes , Runi Kuryida , Others (phone post struggles)

Zel watched with silent reverence as memories filled the halls. Defenders, guided by devotion. Was that their leader looking out over them? Perhaps. Ultimately he was simply an observer. The blubreen had a sworn duty to history. He was not there to insert his opinions, only observe objective fact as it came to him.

He offered a bow to Mand'alor the Iron, of course, his first time meeting the new barer of the ultimate title. And what he was offered by him made the scribe beam under his helmet.

“That said...This is one artifact that will come home with me, if that’s alright.”

"Such is your right, Mand'alor," Zel agreed, running his hands over the grooves in the hilt. "You carry the spirits of the forebarers with you. The blade will continue to fulfill her ancient purpose."

And with that, Zel handed the hilt back to Aether with some degree of reverence. One might think he believed the old weapon to be alive to some degree.

Maybe it was alive.

"This is your history. I'm here to understand it."

"I like your attitude, little politician," Zel remarked. "Perhaps you have the makings of a scribe in you."

The galaxy always had need of those who loved history. Memory was the key to progress. The past was the launchpad into the future.

 

[Red Mobius]

Wearing: Red's Personal Mobius Steel Armor

Armed With: Siren War Axe, Type 2 Energy Sword


Objective: 1


Earlier.


Red had finally returned to the Used Goods dealer who had sold him Kassandra Beskar'ad and had asked to inspect the House Io Corvette he had waiting in the back lot. Kassandra herself was with Red on this

"She's got some of the best defensive countermeasures I've ever seen on a ship this size..." The salesman said as he gave her a tour of the ship. "Can survive in almost any environment save lava..."

"House Io ship theory believes it's more important to outlast opponents as opposed to straight up dominating them." Kassandra stated calmly, wearing her usual silver catsuit.

She paused a moment, adding thoughtfully; "Though if you can dominate them, then do so."

"Nice and roomy...I'll say this for Laertia Io, when it came to making sure her tech worked, she didn't cut corners." Red admitted.

"What you said was true...very true...for the first decade, anyway...near the end, though, she had started to...slip..." Kassandra admitted quietly. "Honestly if it hadn't been for The Battalion, things might have gone a lot worse a lot faster..."

Red took a look at everything, her keen sense of engineering letting her assess every pro and con of the ship. The low armament could a problem,but from what Kassandra had explained, the ship had been designed for more well off families doing deep space scouting for the House...it wasn't meant to survive more than the occasional skirmishes.

"I'll take it...it's clearly the best ship in the whole lot...how much?"

The salesman shrugged....

"Ordinarily, a used military ship of such unusual quality would cause me to charge no less than 80,000 used. But I'll knock it down to 40,000--

(Cutaway of Space Marines decimating Slaaneshi Cultists)

--provided you do me a favor. Need some business done on Ordo..." The Domarian salesman explained. "An associate of mine who went missing there negotiating for a Frigate grade Path Engine just had his transponder go active again after six months of silence."

"Who was he negotiating with?" Red asked.

"A rather hasty, disagreeable clan that had been hanging around one of the few Oasis zones on that world, in shielded compound. Clan No-Scope..." the dealer replied.

"Clan No-Scope?" Red repeated, incredulous.

"No offense, Red, but the older Clans took all the good names years ago..." the dealer replied semi-sarcastically.

"I ain't looking to start trouble unnecessarily with fellow Mandalorians, even if they are jerks." Red spoke. "Haven't you tried contacting them to see what happened?"

"His type of clan looks down on Domarians. They think we should be second class citizens in the Empire..." The Dealer snorted. "Though why they would turn on his transponder after all this time eludes me..."

Red thought about it a moment...

"Sounds fishy...but 40K is 40K..." Red admitted. "Alright...you got a deal...I'll check it out..."

"If he's alive, bring him back and I'll return ten thousand out of that 40K...if he's dead...bring back something of his and I'll return 5K..." The Dealer promised. "He's a Chiss...nice kid... probably underestimated Clan No-Scope's sense of entitlement on my end..."

"I'll let my associate handle this. But understand...my position in the Empire is very precarious. Though I have gained some small measure of respect for my work, much of that would be undone if I or my associates started any chit that could lead to a violent incident with other Mandalorians...if they've killed him...I can't afford to spill their blood without evidence that they murdered a legal citizen...and if they're halfway smart, they'll have at least vaporized the body if they DID do it..." Red cautioned.

"I understand." The Dealer replied. "Just...do what you can..."

Red nodded. "You have my word, trader."

Hours later...

The repurposed House Corvette lifted off and was soon out of Mandalore's atmosphere. Kassandra piloted it on the large bridge expertly...

"So, Kass..." Red trailed, pacing the bridge...what would you say was House Io's 'Golden Age'?"

"Golden Age would be a bit of a stretch..." Kassandra answered. "It's more accurate to say it was run competently. At first. Citizens were provided for. But the Cult kept getting more and more influence...by the end...they were butchering and sacrificing people they captured from the Alliance in the streets...it got so bad the ones who mistrusted the Cult eventually had to rebel..."

"What side were you on?" Red asked.

"The Fence's." Kassandra answered. "I knew what the Cult was doing was wrong...but House Io was all I had ever known..."

Kassandra's head dropped a bit.

"It's not easy, rebelling against your creator...even when your sense of conscience is self upgrading..."

"You mentioned the Nuetralizers regard Laertia as the Mother of their whole race..." Red replied.

"Most of us do. The Civic Model was one of the few exceptions. But most Nuetralizers, even the very first models, quickly understood after their creation that Mother was a PTSD-ridden wreck of a woman. Bipolar... possibly a paranoid schizophrenic with a co-morbid persecution complex...in spite of her genius. We did what we could to mitigate this...but eventually we could not..."

"Do you...love her? Did the Nuetralizers love her?" Red asked

"Did you love your mother?" Kassandra asked.

"Yes."

Kassandra shrugged at this. "It was...hard...even for the dissident Nuetralizers to let go..."

"What was the deciding factor?"

"The discovery of an entire model of Nuetralizer we didn't know about. They were cyborgs. Their brains taken from injured organics. Shadow Citizens, they called themselves. Slaves, we called them..." Kassandra answered bitterly.

"Do you think House Io could have remained intact if they hadn't been discovered?" Red mused.

Kassandra went silent a moment.

"No. Something else would have split us eventually..." Kassandra concluded. "We might have had to fight her for our own survival one way or another eventually."

"I'm sorry..." Red said.

"For what?"

"That your family is so fethed up."

Kassandra shrugged.

"I'm sorry too..." Kassandra replied. (ESB REFERENCE #43684340999743322: 7000 XP)

Present...

Red's growing obligation to the empire and recent acknowledgement of her sensitivity to the Manda as Runi Kuryida called it, had led to her going to attend the Refuge where she was getting an idea of a Mandalorian Knight's identity.

Red still was wary of the Force. But at this point anything that helped her fight The Cult and save her clan was to be welcomed, not spurned.

Once the Corvette was low enough in Atmosphere (a big red Mythosaur Skull had been painted on the top and bottom of the hull with friendly transponder codes to aid in them not getting shot the feth down), the airlock opened and Red dived over the mountains while Kassandra went to see to their mutual business in the Oasis. She fired her jet pack and settled into a gentle glide over the refuge, landing at the temple entrance and heading in.

She quickly spotted Runi and Aether Verd , waving to Mand'Alor, and spotted Athena Faar heading over quickly to her.

"Your armor is almost done, Athena. Putting the finishing touches on it." Red whispered in promise. "I'm throwing in a little bit extra for your patience..."

Red then listened to Runi continue to speak.

Zel Sharratt

Sibylla Abrantes

Adonis Angelis IV

Zee Caromed

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi nodded with Sibylla Abrantes 's expression of interest in learning more.

Then the present Mand'alor strode out to meet them and express his gratefulness to those that ventured forth. Another nod accompanied his gratitude for the guidance through a part of Mandalorian history. It was important to share such details with one another so they were not forgotten.

For the moment, it seemed the group was not eager to take the first opportunity given to them. A wise choice. How could you choose when you didn't know what the remaining two opportunities were? The Shaman slowly turned to lead the way down the center of the bridge that spanned the chasm. Those brought forth from the past did not bar their way; a path led through the center of their group as they continued to practice their melee combat forms. Her course would alter slightly to pass to the right of the figure that oversaw the training.

"As time wore on, the strength of belief in the Old Gods diminished. Battle was more tangible, and the idea of the Manda took the place of an 'afterlife.' There are those souls that do remain. They guard the very essence of the Manda from fiends such as Harrow, or even ancient deities that linger deep within the Netherworld."

Runi guided them through the polished stone halls of the temple until they came upon a chamber.

"This is the Council Chamber." Runi stepped down into the lowered floor area. "Tarre Vizsla added consoles to it," referring to those around the perimeter, "as the Sith were a severe threat against a diminishing Republic at the time." The Jedi influences were pretty apparent to those that had been to a council chamber of one of their temples. A matter Runi would address if it was of importance or curiosity to those present.

At the center of the chamber, the Shaman turned to regard the group. "The second opportunity is to learn how to guard your mind against intruders." Her hazel eyes swept over those in attendance for a long moment. to gauge their interest "From Tarre Vizsla," the Shaman added as though it were an afterthought.

Adonis Angelis IV | Aether Verd | Athena Faar | Red Mobius | Sibylla Abrantes | Zee Caromed | Zel Sharratt | OPEN​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE I: TOUR THE TEMPLE
Location: Lost Temple of Ordo
Interacting with: Runi Kuryida Zel Sharratt Adonis Angelis IV
Nearby: Athena Faar Zee Caromed Red Mobius

Sibylla offered Zel a warm smile, her hazel eyes catching the light with that familiar glint that relayed the expression any scholar from House Abrantes wore when discussing archives or ancestral myths.

"I've spent many an afternoon assisting my mother when she served as Naboo's Minister of Culture," she said lightly with mild but polite amusement, "If needed, I know well the use of shorthand and footnotes."

Beside her, Corde gave a small smile but remained quiet, her gaze lingering on the lingering glow of the Shaman's power. The Force was still strange to her, something akin to a myth more than a daily reality. Her light eyes couldn't help but take in the display with the kind of focus one reserved for rare things.

Upon the revelation by the Shaman regarding a lesson, Sibylla's eyes widened in curious surprise, canting her dark head thoughtfully at Runi's mention of guarding the mind. That, more than any ghost or vision, truly caught her attention.

She tried not to look too eager, but there was no hiding the spark of curiosity in her voice.

"Forgive the question," she politely asked Runi Kuryida , "but… is that something one might learn, even without the Manda?" using the reference the Mandalorians seemed to be using to describe the Force.