Succession of Ka'ra [Mandalorians]

[Azrael]

[media]https://soundcloud.com/musicpear/ed-sheeran-i-see-fire-the[/media]

MANDAL MOTORS

Great Hall


Amid the misty, humid, and jungle strewn highlands of Mandalore, an ancient sect of Mando'ade were known to abide for centuries.
These Mandalorians not only touched the force, but were gateway vessels between the physical and spiritual realms, said to be the intermediaries between the living and the dead. The legend of Ka'ra was born from these tales, as it was said that each pin prick of starlight above Yaim was a memory of a distant and fallen Manda'alor. The ruling council of fallen kings. They watched over and protected Mandalore in ways unseen, by the guiding hands and watchful eyes of the Manda. Many sought out these seers in the past to glean wisdom and direction in time of need. It was unknown if they still existed now, as their legend and rumor were barely a whisper among the older, more experienced vod. Whatever the state of this Ka'ra was, every time the fire of the Great Hall in Mandal Motors burned, there was always an air of an ever present yet unseen spirit that lingered in the grand structure that had housed some of the mightiest Mando'ade of all time.



Erected centuries ago, the Mandalorian Great Hall of Mandal Motors had served as a junction for all the clan heads visiting and living on Yaim for ages. The epicenter of all great political and governmental dealings of their culture had gathered and joined their voices to settle issues of the day. Hundreds of thousands of armor clad warriors of old had tred the dark gray and blue stones that fashioned this place. Something of a temple of sorts, it's purposes were many and varied, but all carried weight. For Gilamar it had been a place of business and decision, often calling the clan heads together to pool their resources, or settle matters of state. He was not the first to use it as such, and would assuredly not be the last.

The call had gone out across Manda'yaim and the Galaxy as a whole - and in earnest requested the presence of each of the Mandalorian clan heads to convene on Yaim for an occasion that would mark a new chapter in the long and sundry tale of their people and their culture. All Mandalorians were welcome to attend the gathering, but only the clan head's presence was required. Men and women across the cosmos would rally to Yaim for the discourse that would follow. Ceremonial in nature, fires were lit between each column as those already assembled stood with their Aliit, in various pockets within the main chamber. The vast ceilings and intricate architecture was always a marvel to behold, and really helped to set you back in your place within the vode. The building was so large it was humbling to be within it's embrace.

The din of voices, though few were ringing off the mostly empty halls, creating an orchestra of sound that resonated all the way through and out the open passageway that lead to their world. Armor gleaned and shined from the firelight that leapt out in all directions banishing the darkness to the fringes of the temple like structure. Along a wide birth of a walkway down the center of the Hall, a ramp rose up to a staircase of ten steps, and atop that, an empty and hollow throne. Upon the throne, a set of armor rested in silence, having no soul or body to fill it's husk. The armor of Gilamar Skirata was neatly folded with his buy'ce watching the attending crowd like an ever present anchor to the vode.

This meeting wasn't however called by the Field Marshals, this was a meeting called by the Mandalorian Elders. Those that were no longer riding into the heat of battle, but were more or less retired with positions of wisdom and respect among the vode. They had served their many Mand'alor, and had decided to make their golden years of aging right in the epicenter of the heart of every Mandalorian in the Galaxy. Their ever watchful gaze was something of a boon to the culture, and they had gathered the vode an historical event steeped in tradition in which the next Mand'alor would be found among the congregation of warriors. While the ruler of their people was never decided by popular vote, it was an occasion that any and all should bear witness to.

Sunken against the shadows of a pillar, the Ord Mantell native was stationed, his back pressed against the thick stone pillar, while his arm crossed. He wasn't angry, but he was reluctant to be a large part of this congregation. Part of him didn't think he had the right to here, and the other half just wanted this day to be over. In the course of a month, the Mandalorian had lost so much, and was also entrusted with so great a burden. Head of Clan Skirata, chief engineer of Mandal Motors, and he was already a Field Marshal who had called for the retreat on Empress Teta. He had just buried his sister and his father, both Mand'alors of high degree in their own right, and both beloved by the vode. Despite his clan, and his family and close friends nearby, the brooding melancholy just wouldn't ebb away.

 

[Basaba Willamina]

Basaba continued to watch her sisters as they walked with her, the Willamina clan had come to pay their respects and come to see this. That She was here representing them well her cybernetic arm clenched flexing and still getting use to it as the nearly pure beskar appendage shined the same color as her armor. The light blue as she kept her helmet clipped to her belt with the scars and markings from where the sith had bashed her face in, she had loved that fight. Taking on a sith lord with everything at their disposal, she flicked her eyes over to Azrael and while he might disagree she had relished it. She could say fighting a sith lord while they used the force and taking their arm wasn't only possible from most reports it seemed to be one of the most damaging things that had been done. She was going to kill [member="Aedan Miles"] when she saw him next. Her crushgaunts would squeeze his neck as she watched the life flow from his eyes. Then she was looking up at the throne with Gilimar's armor and suppressing a fresh wave of rage more at what had happened.

 

[Countess Calum Teramo]

Coming in behind her own clan sister it wouldn't be long before other would file in. Oneself was like a midget among these long of giant women. Still the 5ft woman one of the newest sister of the clan of Willamina. Looking at Basaba new arm, knowing that it was her own hands that had saved her from certain death. It would be her own clan knowing why they was here. To feel that only one thing could be done that was to look on. This great all she never seen the likes still somethings was new. Only bits and piece were making out between these gaint women sisters she called them all.

[member="Basaba Willamina"]

 

[Boggo Flib]

Shiro was not one to join meeting but this one caught his interest. A Cold Criminal by nature and Mandalorian after that Shiro's Mandalorian connection was longing to be re-done. He join the Faction Weeks before learned much and had Armor Forged, but after that he went to make credits by bounty Hunting. By Meeting here in his Beskar'gam Shiro felt as if he belonged even if the politics mattered little. Noticing the three others Shiro walked in with his helmet under his left arm. Standing 6'5ft, Shiros scarred face and long black hair had free reign now his helmet was free and he gave a straight face to everyone he saw, Nodding now and then to those he knew. SO far it looked like he was early.

 

[Rhodessa]

As she entered the great hall, to bear witness to who would become the new mandalore. She saw [member="Basaba Willamina"], she decide it to have a brief chat with her, about [member="aeden miles"]. Hi I am rhodessa, my twin sister was Itessa. I don't know if you ever met her. She then paused, as tear came down her face I don't hold your clan responsible for aeden actions, but if I ever see him. I will kill him, I hope you understand.

 

[Garrus Garon]

...the Warrior had come to the Great Hall of Mandal Motors where he would linger in the background and make himself largely unseen. The Beskar'gam he wore made him stand out though as did the Beskad that had been sheathed over his back with its handle extending up over his left shoulder on this occasion. With his helmet removed and tucked under his arm into his left armpit Garrus was an easily recognizable figure in the hall due to his large stature and the colors of Clan Garon adorning his armor...

...he had come to the Great Hall of Mandal Motors to act as the chief representative of Clan Garon if any matters required it. The Field Marshall was not the actual head of the clan however his brother, Strider, was long absent from meetings of any kind which meant the burden of politics and ceremony often fell on the shoulders of Garrus. He had never desired a position of influence however it appears as though there was some responsibility that Garrus could not escape which is what had lead him here...

...as he stood with other members of Clan Garon his eyes would sweep out across the hall, winding through the din of voices as they sought figures they recognized. He recognized Besaba Willamina almost instantly seeing as how she was another Field Marshal and noticed the Countess as well having had dealings with her in the past though these were the main figures who caught his attention at the moment. Of course there were others too but Garrus wasn't the most social fellow on the best of days which meant he mingled with his own primarily...

...initial assessments were made, observations were completed and the Warrior would move towards a large pillar where he could lean and make himself comfortable. He hadn't had a drink yet today which made him feel a tad uncomfortable but now wasn't the time or place and he'd exercise a bit of control against his cravings. Looking down the hall Garrus would have seen the throne, empty save for the folded armor of Gilamar Skirata that was folded upon it and his expression stiffened somewhat knowing that a man he considered a friend had been partially responsible for this. Betrayers were filth. Aedan Miles was not long to live if Garrus ever laid hands on him and there would never be forgiveness for the man in the Warriors heart...​

 

[Muad Dib]

The sky glittered with stars from afar casting the landscape into an nostalgic visage of serenity. The gathered mando'ad waited with armor reflecting the faint light of the night's skies. But in the shadows of the ancient columns rested Atin Kandossii. The matte black armor hid him well and yet the red highlights were visible within the recesses of the darkness.

Around him stood aliit of his clan, waiting for the beginning of the momentous occasion. For it was not everyday when a mand'alor was chosen. Many of them had never seen it occur, always being off o a hunt or mission, always indisposed. But Atin wanted them here to see history and be part of it. Even if they were only spectators.

Popping the seal of his buy'ce he removed it and hooked it to the webbing at his belt. The light brown hair hung limply as jade green eyes scanned the vode who had already arrived. A nod to a few vode that he counted friends scattered about the clearing as he recognized many more from battles fought or mere reputation. A low hum of chatter echoed in the cleaaring as brothers and sisters greeted one another. But always with the quiet respect the place deserved.

Hollow clanks of armor on armor as allies grasped arms or mando sat, reclining to wait. Even now his clan spoke near silently among themselves. Yet Atin held his tongue. He loved his riduur, his aliit, and his clan. But these people here were his too. Not necessarily by blood but by choice as each and every one of them had chosen this culture, this way of life. They were all his vode whether he knew their names, faces, or armor or not.

The scars on his armor showed to the world a mando'ad who fought and was willing to go into danger. His reputation was such that all who recognized him would say he was a true vod who kept the resol'nare. Next to him squatted Eri, an adopted orphan from Tatooine. His buir, Janson, was a close friend and member of his clan with a big mouth and an even bigger heart. But even Janson stood silently in this place of reverence.

"Eri'ika, watch and learn. For today you will hear the wisdom of our elders, see the might of our verda, and the rise of one of our own to Mand'alor." Eri settled close to Janson bringing a flicker of a smile to Atin's face as he turned back to watch his vode fill the clearing.

 

[Charlyn Nairne]

Chloe was here to see history in the making plus she rarely got out anymore. She spent most of her time behind the screen of a computer doing work on a security system for a company while Atin went on missions and hunts alone. Normally she would accompany him however it was safer that she didn’t so instead she did other work. Hacking she could do from home as well but that again was dangerous and right now she didn’t need or want anyone coming after her or the clan which she loved.

This was not the culture that she had been born into but instead the one she had married into. The one she would soon raise her children in and she embraced it as her own. She had never fit in with those whom she had been raised with but she fit in here. Atin had saved her from a life beyond the computer screen and gave everything a purpose.

Chloe stood silently by Atin’s side watching as more and more vode began arriving. It was amazing to see so many of them in one settling all from different clans. They really were all just one big giant family. This was a very exciting time for all of them.

[member="Atin Kandossii"]

 

[Kad Tor]

It was both an exciting and somber occasion which brought together the many different clans of the Mando'ade. For his own part, Kad had not wanted to be choosing a new Manda'lor because they had lost their Manda'lor in battle. This was the case however, and the clans were to gather in order see the selection of a new leader. Kad knew who he desired to see lead their people, but he was only one voice, and not the alor of his clan either. His voice had little weight, but he still attended. His riduur [member="Ralize Tor"] knew of the assembly, and he hoped she would be there. This was a major event in the history of their people. In fact his hope was the entirety of the small clan he belonged to would be there.

Spoiler

[member="Briika Detta"] - [member="Nolan Detta"] - [member="Kable Detta"]

 

[Neskar A'toll]

A new Mand'alor for a new time. So he assumed. There had been two Mand'alor already in his short life. Neskar stalked at the rear of the complex, where he could get a good view. An elevated platform provided that. He stood alone, arms crossed. A solitary figure for a solitary life. He had never been one for large events. Neskar was always a lone figure. His father was the only one he could remember, but the man died when Neskar was not even a man. To that, his father never truly felt like his father. More a permanent mentor with even higher expectations. As was expected, he supposed. Neskar's father was a Mandalorian, true to the old ways. Educating his child was his way to exist past death. The six tenets of the Resol'nare was drilled into Neskar daily, like his life depended on it. It did, as it turned out. Neskar had always been sceptical. But, far too late, he discovered just why he needed it. That, and utter detachment from his emotions during conflict, had morphed him into a true warrior, of the old ways. He stared blankly at the assembling crowd. Wondering how this new leader would be chosen, Neskar delegated himself to remain invisible. He would probably need it, in the future, when it was his turn. Yes. He was certain of that.

 

[Anastasia Rade]

Anastasia had finished her custom armor just in time to show it off for this historic event. Today vode from all over would gather together to witness the choosing of the next Mand'alor. As she understood it there would be less talking about it and more fighting. The strongest of them would claim the title.

It was only a few short months ago that Anastasia had been a prisoner lost to the world. The Mandalorian's had taken her in and given her a sense of belonging. Even though she had not been born into the culture she was made to feel apart of it. She felt as if those whom she now called vode really did care for her. They helped her adjust to life outside a cell, learn the language, weapons and were even good drinking partners. Sure she still had her demons, issues and heartache but what she was realizing was so did everyone else. Anastasia was in good company.

The young woman stood proudly in her newly forged pink armor as she watched fellow vode began to file in. She was proud of the armor that she had been able to create for herself with help and felt now that she truly fit in with the crowd as if she was one of them.

The sight of the hall and just all the armor clad vode was something in of itself. In times of need they all rallied together. She was glad to have the opportunity to witness as such.

 

[Renato Sarkin]

Sarkin found his way towards this little gathering of Mandalorians dress in simple clothes having no clan and no voice Sarkin simply melted into the scenery taking a look around and only half paying attention to the separate conversations taking place. Sarkin admire the various armors those in attendance were wearing, the structures within the great hall that stood before him.

Finding a spot off to the side away from the gathering clans Sarkin watched and waited not even sure himself why he was here.

[member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Azrael"]

 

[Nyos Val]

Thundering into the hall, the Goliath soldier made his way to the crowd. Standing over 7 feet tall, he looked down over everyone here. He stood alone, without saying a word, but watching the gathering of the most dangerous soldiers the galaxy knew.

He shifted to lean on a pilar of the hall, feeling it creak as it settled on the newly added weight, he decided against leaning on the pillar. He instead rampaged standing above them all, like a Titan watching the mortals below, keeping their lives in his eyes.

 

[Nyos Val]

Like a ghost, Marrik slipped into the hall and made for the Sister he knew. He moved to her side, and for nothing more than familiarity he would remain by her.

"Good to see you Sister [member="Anastasia Rade"]."

Marrik bowed his head slightly to her revealing the horns of the Dathomirian from beneath his hood. He pulled the good back to expose him completely. He smiled, setting he rarely does but it was a time for happiness as a new Mand'alor was to be announced.

 

[Anija Betna]

Tags: Mandalorian Protectors

Spoiler

[member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Arrbi Betna"] | [member="Atin Kandossii"]| [member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Evi Sohl"] | [member="Jaden Taacyn"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Shaw McKeller"] | [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]

Tags: Mandalorians

Spoiler

[member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Chloe Kandossii"] | [member="Azrael"] | [member="Rianna Ordo"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Ginnie Ordo"] | [member="Ordo"] | [member="Ralize Tor"] | [member="Kable Detta"]

Mandalore
Jungle Highlands
MandalMotors Great Hall

It seemed like the last few weeks had passed in the blink of an eye. Coruscant. Teta. So much had happened.. and so much had changed. She stood not far from Azrael, among the mixed members of Betna and Ordo aliite. Her left hand gripped Betna's right. It was...unusual to see so many Mando'ade gathered in one place. It only seemed to happen at funerals or other affairs of state. A soft sigh escaped her as she gazed around the cavernous space. The buzz and muted drone of conversation filled the space, but it didn't overpower it.

She continued to look around, recognizing a Mandalorian here and there, sometimes by Beskar'gam alone. They were her brothers and sisters. Not by blood but they were bound through conflict and a common purpose. That purpose had brought them here today for one thing: to name a new leader for their people. That in an of itself was not something she'd ever been part of hat she could recall.

Her gaze came to rest on Azrael after a moment. She knew this whole situation had to be weighing heavily on him. Both Gil and Ordo had been family to him. To have both taken from him so soon after Mia's death was... distressing. Though she hadn't personally known Mia or Gilamar well, she still felt their deaths as strongly as she would have Ordo's. Their myriad connections to the Mandalorian people made such an event felt in many ways. The grief still hung in the air, even now.

And yet... there was a feeling of.... anticipation which charged the air in the room. She could feel it. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she looked around again. The hall continued to fill as Mandalorians came from all over the Mandalorian territories to add their voices to the discussion. As she stood there among her clanmates, Anija felt a presence in the room. Well, many. As if the spirits of past Mand'alors were holding their breath in anticipation as well. Ka'ra she'd heard them called once. The ancient and fallen rulers of Mandalore. Perhaps today, they would see the ascension of another to lead the Mandalorians.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

The great hall was like roaming through a foreign region that was never visited by Vilaz, yet it was at Mandalore, the capital and home of the vode. The call was an uncommon because it was the elders that sent out a beacon calling all Mandalorians to come towards the Great Hall that would host a huge meeting that consisted of a variety of iron clad, bred, legendary, and fearless warriors. This meeting was a meeting that couldn't be missed or denied to go, for it seemed important especially if many Mando'ade attended and was declared by the elders.

Vilaz was striding through the Hall that contained a massive amount of vod in every corner of this architecture that seemed to be bigger and could compete against any Jedi or Sith Temple in size, the exterior, the interior, and the background that the Great Hall was at. Every clan that was within the vode, sure enough, attended, and were representing their clans along with the heads of each, individual clan. The Rally Master was not the head of his clan, but was representing what remains left of his clan, for only he and his older brother were the only members left of the Redneck clan. If his brother didn't come then Vilaz would represent his clan through the meeting, but if he came sooner or later than the young Redneck would let his brother assume total control of representing their clan.

His buy'ce was off of his head and clung to the belt of his custom made beskar'gam, revealing his face that had long hair that was sometimes a veil to his blue eyes if they were disturbing his vision, and his, somewhat, of a beard. He saw recognizable brothers and sisters, such as Azrael, the newly chief of the Skirata clan and CEO of Mandal Motors whom lost so much in a short amount of time hit him hard than the rest of the Mando'ade. And after having a glance of everyone, his eyes fell upon the emptied armor of their recently lost Mand'alor, Gilamar Skirata, that was sitting down on a throne that looked like he was watching everyone before him.

He wasn't a user of the Force, but he could feel the supernatural presence of fallen rulers of the Mando'ade. Ka'ra was what it was called and he had heard of it several times during his upbringing as a warrior. They would join the alive and natural breathing Mandalorians in witnessing the next man or woman that would claim the helm of Mand'alor.

 

[Silas Mantis]

Silas was silent, his voice mattered little to nothing here. His vod, locked away in some dar'jetti hellhole, he had a say. But Silas was no Preliat and he wasn't sure he wanted to be. The man who was locked away now was not the boy he wrestled with in the living room as children. War had changed him, and to be honest Silas was almost afraid it would change him. Almost. Silently the young Mantis sat in the room, unsure of what to say or do.

The initiate looked around, trying to find some semblance of instructions, but found none, so he would simply sit, clad in his armor, awaiting something to be asked of him. At either hip hung a tomahawk, on his chestplate a vibro and CO2 knife. He'd left his firearms at home, but these? He didn't leave home without them.

 

[Not Ordo]

Spoiler

[member="Azrael"] [member="Basaba Willamina"] [member="Countess Calum Teramo"] [member="Countess Calum Teramo"] [member="Shiro De'Vol"] [member="Rhodessa"] [member="Garrus Garon"] [member="Atin Kandossii"] [member="Chloe Kandossii"] [member="Kad Tor"] [member="Neskar A'toll"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Sarkin Vance"] [member="Titan"] [member="Marrik Aloxum"] [member="Anija Ordo"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Silas Mantis"]

Spoiler

Edric didn't often leave the forges anymore. His eyes had long since begun to fail him and his days of raising warriors long since passed. He walked out in his ancient crusader styled armor. The old red grey and green armor not unlike the more modern shock trooper or Bes'uliik styles. A heavy war hammer held at his side and shield on the other. The scared and battered plates spoke for him. He had watched this happen many times and had even participated in his youth but never he he been called on to oversee the combat. He beat his hammer against his beskar shield three times before slamming the long haft on the deck.

"NER VODE!" he bellowed his old voice something nding as powerful as it had in youth. "In ancient times we became a people born from war. Forged on the field of battle and quenched in the blood of the fallen."

He paused his heart heavy with their recent losses both his dear friends.

"From the ashes of battle a Taung rose. A leader, a ruler, A general and king, Mand'alore." He paused looking around from behind his buy'ce's Visor, "for thousands of years we have lived and fought as Mando'ade, sons and daughters of Mand'alor. Above us they watch from the Manda as we gather to name another. The most respected vod is entitled to claim this title!"

He slammed his hammer's haft on the deck again.

"WHO WILL STEP FORWARD!"

 

[Renato Sarkin]

Sarkin chuckled to himself as the man with the massive war hammer strode up and spoke pretty words slamming the hammer on to the ground around them. So it seemed these people were leaderless and had all gathered here to what appoint a new one with speeches or pretty words. Or perhaps was it something else? Sarkin didn't have a clue but he stood there any way not speaking and not saying a word waiting to see who would do what in the group of armored souls.

 

[Basaba Willamina]

[member="Edric Ay'bara"] [member="Garrus Garon"] [member="Azrael"]

Basaba didn't turn her head when the one child spoke, she didn't know who Itessa let alone her sister was while she felt her sister [member="Countess Calum Teramo"] at her back. A look at the others arriving while she remained at the table seeing Garrus arriving without his wife (who is around just background for the moment), Azrael who had all of them had the weight of leadership already. Her mind was racing on who else there was among the field marshals who were strong enough. Strider if he had been able to be here while being a womanizer was a respected warrior, Ember had fought against the sith and anyone who came after them longer then most, Preliet was insane and a danger to others at the best of times.

Those thoughts were silenced as the older one spoke and Basaba saw the hammer, her attention going to what he was speaking about their heritage and she let where she was wash over finally. It was a beautiful place to be put and kept, built to last and honor the one of the past but he was asking for the worthy to step forward and that brought her attention towards the two field marshals there with her. She flicked her eyes around seeing the others in the hall finally or at least the ones who were in front of her, not turning her head away from watching Garrus or Azrael the only ones she would qualify as worthy or respected enough. She might be respected by her clan but didn't factor in the rest. Nor did she care, can't please everyone.