Our Song Woke the Trees [Forest Sons]

[Jor Kvall]

Blazebirth Hall
Unknown Location within the Rimewood
Krownest

"I once followed men, believing it to be Kad Ha'rangir's will."

The massive fire in the pit in the center of the hall danced off Jor Kvall's face. The heat of the fire was reflected in the yellow glow of his face, while flames twirled in the reflection of his blue eyes. The men were assembling now. It was night on this side of the Rimewood, the dusk having long since descended on the ancient trees of the forest and swallowed them up in its dark embrace. Distantly, cries of beasts could be heard. The terrifying monsters of the Rimewood would be kept at bay tonight by the bait the Mandalorians had set elsewhere. That would keep the forest's lurking predators at bay for at least an evening, allowing the crowd to assemble here at Blazebirth Hall unmolested.

The planet's chieftains and leaders of men on Krownest had received the message to gather here in secret. If they were true Mandalorians, they would be able to find their way through the Rimewood to Blazebirth Hall unmolested. Jor Kvall had provided them directions to the gathering place, being sure to distribute the location to only those he trusted. Here amidst the dark foreboding of the woods, they could meet in secret, far from the eye of the Sith.

Something had changed in Jor since the battle on Mandalore. A short-lived victory for the Mandalorians before the Sith war machine inevitably swallowed up what remained of Yasha's failed endeavors. Jor had been mostly quiet since that battle, even through his marriage to Lira Kros . He knew the war machine would not stop there. It would find its way to Krownest, too - and so it did. Even as the flowers fell on their wedding day, Jor Kvall's mind gravitated around only one thing: revenge.

Revenge and blood.

"But these men were only Arasuum in disguise."

Jor Kvall took his eyes from the fire. Jiriad Galaar would be arriving with the rest of his clan elders soon.

 

[Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr]

Heavily furred boots carved a path through the snow, the sound of ice crunching splitting the silence of the night as Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr slowly made his way towards the flickering firelight that illuminated the woods. The call to stand before the Alor of House Kvall had been sounded and whether it was an official signal from one of the representatives of the House that informed him or merely noticing the hunting patterns of the Strill had changed to avoid Blazebirth hall, it mattered not. The call was sounded and he would answer.

All around him, the sounds of the creatures of woods sounded as well as unfamiliar sounds, the sounds of the Kvall hunters ensuring they kept them well away from the hall. I’m probably not helping he thought, looking back at the long crimson trail he was leaving behind him. Normally he was able to travel like a shadow within the woodlands, identifying which snowdrifts were strong enough to support his weight without being disturbed too loudly, which paths were densely covered enough to traverse without difficulty as opposed to which others were full of branches. However, dragging a cleaned carcass of a Shatual behind him made stealth a difficult proposition.

A shriek from above showed that his hunting partner, Habiik agreed with the sentiment, the Galaar invisible in the darkness above the trees. Having been promised a choice cut of the carcass by its owner, the bird of prey was keeping a keen eye on its master and his trophy, ensuring that nothing got between it and it’s succulent meal.

Reaching the mighty doors of the hall, he raised a tattooed hand and gave a nod to the hearth-guards outside, a toothy grin breaking through his knotted beard as Habiik perched upon his furred shoulder, the birds talons keen enough to prick his flesh even through the thick hide he was clad in. Stepping into the warmth, he removed his hood, snow falling to the floor as he walked into the light, placing the Shatual carcass down.

“Su’cuygar! When I heard that there was a gathering in the woods I knew you’d need some real meat to talk over!”

 

[Jor Kvall]

The Shatual carcass hit the ground before Jor's feet with a dead thud. The leader of House Kvall turned, his blue eyes looking down at the bloodied mess, and then trailing back upwards to meet Ljodolfr. His tattoos and roughshod appearance betrayed not only his allegiance but also his station.

The other men around Jor stood by the fire, awaiting the Alor's response. After a pregnant pause, a faint grin escaped Kvall's lips.

"I have heard much of the beastmasters of the Rimewood, and long have you paid tribute to House Kvall. I knew you'd find your way here."

Jor motioned to his men, who took the carcass from his feet and shuffled off with it, beginning to prepare it. At their heart, all the men here were still hunters, never lapsing in the ways of the Mandalorians of Krownest, even in wartime. Thus, no food would ever go to waste, and any gifts were welcomed with open arms.

Jor crossed and stood before Ljodolfr.

"Though we, as individuals, have never met. Su'cuygar. I am Jor Kvall."

 

[Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr]

"I have heard much of the beastmasters of the Rimewood, and long have you paid tribute to House Kvall. I knew you'd find your way here."

Running a hand through his beard, Ljóðolfr stood back and gave the Alor an up and down look, measuring up the man before him to the image that he had in his head. Of the pair, Ljóðolfr stood slightly the taller however Jor Kvall had the slightly more muscled frame but the sagas of Jor of House Kvall were ones even the Rimewood whispered into the night.

"Though we, as individuals, have never met. Su'cuygar. I am Jor Kvall."

Nodding his head in approval, Ljóðolfr thumped a fist to his chest in salute to the chieftain.

“Su’cuygar Alor, I am Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr. Aye, we pay tribute to the masters of the house like the good doggies that we are.”

Chuckling to himself, the woodsmen threw a wink to Jor before standing alongside the fire, gnarled hands outstretched to the warmth.

“But, the hounds of the Rimewood would never dare refuse a chance to a moot held by our Alor. Can’t let any of the sheb'urcyin that may turn up try and discuss something like a peaceful option or for us to ‘wait and see’’ he raised his voice as he spoke, almost accusing any of the listeners of pacifistic tendencies.

“but, great chieftain, it is my honour to meet you here in person. The creatures of the woods themselves speak tales of your exploits and I am excited to have a chance to take place in the next of your sagas.”

 

[Jor Kvall]

"Never dogs, but honored kin among my hall," Jor offered a smile, before extending his hand in an act of friendship. Of course, his guest jested, but Jor would not pass up an opportunity to honor Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr .

He knew this man belonged to a wilder sort, even amongst the Kvall, which was a statement in itself. The men of the deep Rimewood lived an even more wild existence than the Kvall themselves, representing the furthest extreme of Mandalorians native to the planet Krownest. They had chosen to make the nigh uninhabitable forest itself their home, with all the perils that came with it. Some of these perils were even inserted by the Mandalorians themselves.

Ljo's comment would not go unnoticed by any of the other Mandalorians in attendance. It was a challenge to honor; if there were any who loved pacifism, they would be shamed and beaten amongst this company.

"Those of us who know the history, know that there was never an option for peace with the Sith," Jor said to Ljóðolfr, but his words were said loud enough to be directed to everyone else as well. The meeting was beginning.

Jor took his mythosaur axe, a gift from his wife Lira, and slammed the pommel against the wooden floor.

"I welcome that a more manly, a more warlike age is about to begin, an age which above all, will give honor to valor once again. We shun loyalty to all but ourselves. No Sith Empire, no Mandalorian Empire, and death to all invaders. Let any man who does not believe this, leave this hall now in shame and try your luck in the Rimewood. Let those who do believe, declare loyalty to our cause now, for as long as you live."

 

[Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr]

At the Alor’s words, Ljóðolfr grinned widely, the glint of his white teeth contrasting with his dirt covered face, the swirling tattoos mingling amongst mud, loam and a variety of other substances that clung to the Rimewood hunter like a second skin. It’s good to have a chieftain with a straight head and heart of fire, I was beginning to think that these village folk may have even gotten soft.

"Those of us who know the history, know that there was never an option for peace with the Sith,"

Looking upon the great axe, a weapon of legend to his people, Ljóðolfr eyed its sharpened edges with admiration, the bone of the greatest of predators shining like the eyes of the beasts it came from, the promise of death hanging heavily upon the axe just as surely as it did when it had once been a part of the most wonderous and proud of beasts. He could only hope to gain such a weapon, it was the thing of the sagas of old.

"I welcome that a more manly, a more warlike age is about to begin, an age which above all, will give honor to valor once again. We shun loyalty to all but ourselves. No Sith Empire, no Mandalorian Empire, and death to all invaders. Let any man who does not believe this, leave this hall now in shame and try your luck in the Rimewood. Let those who do believe, declare loyalty to our cause now, for as long as you live."

Jumping to his feet, Ljóðolfr drew back the pelts that covered his forearm, a shining piece of forged beskar upon his wrist.

“I do so swear upon my sacred arm-ring to follow you, Jor Kvall of House Kvall, with the blessing of Kad Ha'rangir!”

Turning to look at the other guards within the hearth, his eyes narrowed as he watched them all, trying to gauge what was within their hearts, perfectly willing to draw arms upon any who were found wanting, with his chieftain’s permission.

We shall see who will truly swear to follow the path of Kad Ha’rangir and whom shall choose instead to follow Jor for political gain. None can forge for you the path to cross through into the flames of the destroyer, no, it is a journey you must forge for yourself.

 

[Jor Kvall]

The beskar upon the wrist of Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr basked in the glow of the hearth's flames. Jor looked down upon it with a steeled expression, then back up to Ljóðolfr, his eyes beaming with the fire's reflection, and met the man's display of loyalty with an embrace and a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Brother. I will not forget the first man to declare so proudly his loyalty to our cause. Kad Ha'rangir!"

Then, to the rest of the men gathered around, Jor wheeled on his feet to face all of them as his voice grew.

"We want to sing for the love of danger, the habit of energy and rashness. Our blades are the poetry of courage, audacity and revolt. We glorify war - the only cure for the world, the destructive gesture, the beautiful ideas which kill. Kad Ha'rangir!"

By the end of this invocation, Alor Kvall's head was raised to the heavens, his voice raspy and shouting sharply, so that his audacious bark could be heard reverberating throughout the trees of the Rimewood, before its pale echo faded into the forests black and unknown. The fire crackled and spat sparks. Jor turned again to Ljóðolfr, the same glow of ferocity remaining in his eyes, reverberating throughout his form.

"Beastmaster of the Rimewood. We will need your beasts to shed Sith blood for Kad Ha'rangir. What can you provide?"

 

[Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr]

"Beastmaster of the Rimewood. We will need your beasts to shed Sith blood for Kad Ha'rangir. What can you provide?"

Standing, the hunter rubbed his beard, staring into the flames as he thought on what would be the most appropriate beasts to utilise for the coming battles. Krownest held a large number of beasts that would spell doom for any that encountered them, a number which unfortunately included his fellow Mandalorians. The calling of the forest was not one that many of his people heard, and the ways of the alpha predator were often forgotten, replaced with the ways of spacecrafts and blaster fire. Still….

“We have many Strill packs, they would love nothing more than to hunt for fresher prey, I think they are growing bored of the Shatual here. We have Galaar that can be trained for scouting. Larger aerial beasts that we can use, I’ve even heard word of some truly massive Rawls within the deepwood groves.”

Sticking his hand above the flames, Ljóðolfr smiled grimly as they licked at his calloused palms, the slight pain cutting through the frost that still clung to him.

“There has even been word that within the true deepwoods, the dark glades where even my brethren do not tread, that the Mythosaur of legend dwell within, their kind not seen by any living for some time. Perhaps it is just the rumors of woodland folk, perhaps not…”

Jor Kvall

 

[Jor Kvall]

Long had the Mandalorians of present forgotten not only the ancient battle tactics, but the ways of life of their forefathers. Those that remembered stood before Jor now. Few in number though they were, they were all that was needed to spark revolution. The near insurmountable odds that stood before them were but an opportunity for greater heroes to emerge.

"Rumors they are not, kinsman," Jor responded to Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr . "See for yourself." In turn, Jor tossed his helmet in Eyðimǫr's hands.

Upon closer inspection, the Rimewood warrior would see that the bones and horns adorning Jor's helmet were taken from a Mythosaur.

"My Clan brought these beasts to Krownest centuries ago. They have followed us ever since. Of course, I obtained these bones while my Clan lived on Kalevala. But a few of my house warriors have returned from the Rimewood bearing Mythosaur bones since we returned to Krownest. The great dragons live on in these forests. If we can manage to tame their strength, they will be a mighty addition in bringing the Sith to heel."

 

[Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr]

Catching the helmet, Ljóðolfr immediatley recognised the feeling of the surface, the rasping touch on his rough palms bringing a smile to the hunters face. Here was the greatest of trophies, Mythosaur bone, forged into weapons of battle. It was what the Rimewood hunters spoke of in only legends and with the confirmation that the great beasts dwelled within the deep groves within the depths of the forest brought a swell to his heart.

"I see. I will ensure, by blood and by bone, the great dragons strength will be added to our ranks."

Placing the helmet back near Jor Kvall , Ljóðolfr stared back into the flames, the image of fanged maws and the sound of bestial roars reflecting back from within the fire. To hunt and tame a Mythosaur was the highest task that any Beastmaster could hope for, and with the knowledge that they were here, upon his home, it was all he could do not to run out into the trees and to prepare the hunt then and now. But, he had given his vow to the coming battles and the time for solitude within the embrace of the forest would need to wait.

 

[Jiriad Galaar]

Snow crunched underfoot as Jiriad Galaar made his way towards Blazebirth Hall, two kinsmen in tow shortly behind him. Not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, he crouched lower to the ground to minimize his figure and hoped that the scouts would not mistake him for some kind of horned bear. The pelts draped on his shoulders flapped gently in the wind of the night, and as usual Heimasax could be found clutched in his white-knuckled grasp. Even the cold of nighttime didn't bother him, but nonetheless he still wore the beskar helmet he had been given by Jor Kvall , a beautiful work with mythosaur bones and horns. A sword in a leather sheath was slung across his back and the two clan-mates who followed him bore their own weapons, one carrying a bow and the other with a smaller axe in one hand and a seax in the other.

At long last Jiriad approached the Hall and he stood up to his full height, comfortable finally being around fellow Mandalorians again. He greeted those around him warmly before finding the man who had called him here.

"Alor Kvall! I apologize for the delay, I would have been here sooner had I not run into a patrol of laserblade bastards. We had to make the journey with the most stealth we could manage, which slowed us down more than I'd have liked." Jiriad removed his helmet, tucking it under one of his mighty arms, and turned his attention to Ljóðolfr Eyðimǫr with a weary smile. "Hail, kinsman! I don't believe we had the pleasure of meeting at Alor Kvall's feast."

 

[Jor Kvall]

Alor Kvall turned at the announcement of a new presence in the hall. Shoulders turned and men parted from the doorway as attention was drawn to Jiriad Galaar and his men, who stood proudly in the silhouette of Blazebirth Hall's door frame. The great fire in the center of the hall separated Galaar and Kvall; the light from the flames danced on Jor's golden skin as he narrowed his eyes at Clan Galaar.

Jor stepped out from behind the flames and approached him. Jiriad was late to the meeting, but Jor was simply happy to see the Alor of Clan Galaar alive.

"Alor Galaar," He answered Jiriad, "You are welcome in my hall. Men, a drink for the Alor," Jor motioned to his subordinates behind him, who would fetch Jiriad a goblet of Netra gal as a respite for his journey.

Standing face-to-face with Jiriad, Jor placed a hand on his ally's beskar-clad shoulder.

"Word travels slow these days, as communication lines have been cut with the invasion," Jor said to him. "What news of Clan Galaar and the other side of Krownest?"

 

[Jiriad Galaar]

"So far, we have been able to avoid contact with the aruetii, though I fear that will not last for much longer. We've been trying to go below the radar, but that can only last so long. Clan Galaar has been preparing to strike, however. Anyone who can has been hard at work forging arms and armor for the inevitable conflict, whenever that might be. Including this," Jiriad said, shouldering off the sheathed sword he carried on his back and handing it to Jor. "Forged by my own hand as a gift in return for when we last met, and as proof that I will fight alongside you when the time comes. It is good to know that you have not lost hope, Alor Kvall. We will be free again, I am sure of it."

The hilt of the sword was wrapped in leather, and mythosaur bone adorned the guard. Very careful attention was given to its construction, and although its blade lacked the runes and sigils typical of Galaar crafting, times were tough and function was given precedence to style. While they talked Jiriad's kinsmen began mingling with the others assembled, hugging and shaking hands and getting drinks of their own.

When Jor's subordinate brought it to him, Jiriad thanked them and happily took the goblet. He drank deeply of the netra gal, before returning his attention to the conversation. "How have you and your kin fared, my friend?"

Jor Kvall ​

 

[Jor Kvall]

It did not escape Jor's notice that Jiriad Galaar still wore the bone-adorned helmet he had given him when Clan Galaar first arrived on Krownest. It was as much a show of respect to Clan Kvall's traditions as it was to the man who had given it to Jiriad. Mythosaur bone was sacred to the Kvall; a sign of manhood and respect, only permitted to be worn by the highest-ranking warriors. As such, when it was gifted, it was a gift to kings and leaders.

When the sword presented itself, Jor took it from Jiriad with both hands, his fingers wrapping around the hilt and pulling it free of its sheath. The blade stood between them, shimmering in the firelight, the bright flame upon its flawless metal face a testament to its craftsmanship. Jor clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly, observing the fine craftsmanship of the crossguard, sapphires glistening like specks of ice, and sheathed the blade once again. The work that had gone into making the sword was evident.

"Alor Galaar, I am humbled," He said, holding the sword close to his chest. "Your gift is great. But praise from the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Clan Galaar will forever be welcome amongst the Kvall."

Around them, the mood was friendly but somber, for the dark woods outside and the dangers they held foretold of a time of great violence and suffering ahead for the Mandalorian people of Krownest. Many of the men in Blazebirth Hall no longer had homes to return to, including Jor's own family.

"We have left Heorot for the Rimewood," Jor answered Jiriad. "I judged it dangerous for our Clan to remain in such a centralized location, however fortified, as it makes us an easier target. Especially as my wife is caring for our newborn." Jiriad would likely find Lira Kros amidst the hall somewhere.

"We face almost insurmountable odds, with but few men. But no, Alor Galaar... I have not lost hope," Jor said. "The Sith may have many men and equipment, but there is one thing they do not have. Knowledge of these forests, or the will to die defending it."