Keepin Corellia Weird
In the end, there wasn't really a terrible lot to explain why Ijaat had begun reading through his fathers notes in the copy of the Supercommando Codex. Even less to say why exactly he had chased rumors of it out around the Galaxy. Ordo was the last one who had been in possession of what he was now hunting, and no one had seen him in a long while. To think it might end up in one of the 'shrines' of sorts that the books' notes mentioned was silly at best. But he had grabbed a fast ship and suited up anyway. He would die before he saw that particular relic fall in someone else's hands.By all accounts, the mask was nothing special really. Just a beskar mask, with some decoration to it. Not much more than a standard buc'ye, and would likely need some hefty care and restoration. House Mereel had mobilized and cornered the Kyr'stad forces who were attempting to hold onto the relic. They wouldn't suceeed, of course, but he would have a helluva fight on his hands to make sure they didn't. Their leader was a name he recognized, and recognized quite well.
So for this venture, he had sent a message ahead, a personal challenge. He had sealed it with his first name. There was no titles on the missive, no seals or proclamations of past deeds. The man holding it was his cousin, and he wouldn't insult family by pretending they didn't know who he was, or what he was here for. If he truly held it, it would be obvious from the get-go this wasn't a social call. The Akun clan had never been terribly close knit, particularly his uncle's brood, but to have to kill someone of his blood rankled him. Worse so that the di'kut was Kyr'stad, AND one of their commanders.
And so, the work began, sliding on bits and pieces of armor he had long gone without, checking the fit of a simple sword in his scabbard. This saber wasn't the match of his Jatha'resa, but it would more than do the job. Softly he sat in the filtering light of the shuttered window, in some god forsaken backwater town on Concord Dawn. What would become of him after this fight would be told later, not now, and he was not eager to find out. But as the door creaked and a Guard of his house quietly walked in, he looked into the T-Visor of the helmet cradled in his hand, then nodded to the man.
“It's time, sir”
“It is time”