Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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T'ad Vode

Walking into one of the shuttles that traveled between Onderon and Dxun on a daily basis the Mandalorian went to one of the port windows and stood stoically. Clad in flat black armor he was just one of a few of the mando'ade taking transport from the planet to the moon above. There was nothing about the man that marked him as different from any of the others. And yet his presence seemed to cast about an aura of dark anger.

The man within saw the glances directed at him, but as he wasn't directly addressed he ignored the others. Shifting his shoulders lightly to reset the sword strapped to his back he felt the shuttle shake subtlety as the ship rose and began it's trek to the moon above. As it pierced the heavens the man inside reflected on his people and what had become of them.

Their planet lay in ruin. Their clans scattered throughout the stars. Their ruler a leader of none. Mando'ad forsaking their clans. Persecution against force users. Dar'manda cropping up everywhere. The culture, what it meant to be Mandalorian, was devolving and becoming something of the past.

A snarl etched upon hard lips as the Mad Knight dwelt on these thoughts.

The shuttle vibrated lightly as it activated thrusters and began it's descent towards it's designated landing pad. Landing gear extended and the shuttle landed and with a his from the hydraulics the ramp lowered ushering the people on board to the moon Dxun. Watching the others disembark the Mad Knight slowly followed leaving the ship behind.

Walking to the edge of the platform Muad Dib looked out at the mando encampment. Landing pads throughout the small city lay nestled in the upper trees. Bridges and walkways connected the massive trunks that were littered with small dwellings. Down he stared seeing the city stretch out to reach the floor where it was swarmed with the bustle of everyday life.

Moving from the platform he made his way down one of the swaying bridges. The sun was setting and evening coming on and, as he watched, torches and bonfires were lit throughout the colony. A small smile touched his lips as he felt a kindred spirit here where Manda'yaim still lived. Pausing he spoke to an older vod who was using the last rays of day to mend the leather buckler in his lap.

"Oya ner vod. I'm looking for [member="Kad Tor"] ."

The old man squinted up at the buy'ce worn over the Mad Knight's head then shrugged lightly, his frail shoulders rising and falling. "He'll be down at the bonfire most like. On the outskirts." Then the old man went back to his leather work leaving Muad to find his way to the forest floor.

Reaching the open area where the bonfire was going he saw boys and girls wrestling, women cooking and scolding their little ones, men cooking and passing bottles around. Songs were being sung and filling the night air with it's melodies.

Reaching up be removed his buy'ce and hung it from the netting on his belt and closed his eyes letting it soak in. The aromas of several cool fires, the sweat from wrestling mandos, the sweet sounds of mando'a, armor clashing, shouts between vode. This was what his people were.
 
Autumn was in full swing, and with the crisp cool nights which lacked the humidity of summer, the Mando'ade spent their evenings around the warmth of their fires to play. The colony, and main headquarters for the people, was nothing grandiose. In fact it more reflected the nomadic culture of their origin. The revelry and merrymaking did them all good as the reality of what they truly were had settled upon many of them. Those who had hoped to see the Mando'ade the imposing force they had been before their home world had suffered such a catastrophic demise had grow disappointed to see they still were no closer to it, and likely never would be again.

Kad was not among those disappointed by this. He had fought along side the armies of one power hungry Mand'alor after another. The council of clans had been just as determined to spread their dominance in the region of space they occupied. This attitude had led to so much death that not one who gathered around the flame was unscathed. Their hearts all bore the scars brought by death and loss, and while many had found the strength to move on, the people were still wounded.

The fire danced its hypnotic ballet, tossed about by the changing breeze. Kad's sapphire gaze was transfixed on the captivating hue of orange, yellow, and blue which blended to form the fire. Each crackle and pop of the dry wood sent with is bursts of hot coals and ash to fall on the ground near his feet, and his hands kept busy as he whittled away at a piece of wood. It was taking the form of his clan's crest the bes'kad and shield, a small pendant he was fashioning for the woman who held his heart and desire, [member="Artemis Lux"].

Movement caught his eye, a lone figure clad in black. Kad had not seen this armor before, and he would know it as he fashioned the armor of most who were in his colony. How Kad had come to be the leader of this small group, as Mand'alor still had his homestead on Concord Dawn, would be a thing Kad would never solve. Clan Tor was all but decimated, [member="Briika Tor"] only keeping the name as keep it alive. Kad was now the only male to bear the name, and it fell to him to produce a son to keep the clan alive.

Kad lifted his head to the man. Unlike him, Kad was not in his armor. Tonight was simply about enjoying the night air and for that Kad wanted his clothes to smell of autumn and smoke. The scent would be a welcome one in his smallish yaim later.

He stood to his full height to address the man. Walking up beside him, Kad stood shoulder to shoulder with the figure who was taking in the sight as if it had been a long time since he had seen such joy and culture.

"Meg ganar woor jorir o'r," Kad asked with his gaze still on his people. "Gar jivaor bat ibic bavat bic cuyir shi a vercopa"


[member="Muad Dib"]​


*What has the wind carried in?
**You look on this as if it were a dream...
 
It was a welcome sight to see the mando'ade living instead of dying. War and battle were in their blood. Combat sang in their blood. But there was more to being mando then just their ability to war. It was sometimes easy to forget that with the way the mando'ade had been warring for last several years.

Feeling the back of his neck itch slightly he felt a tingle that he had come to trust in. It was the feeling of being watched. But here, amidst vode, he did not feel the need to be on alert. Of all the places he had been and all the things he had been, it was with the children of Manda'yaim that he truly felt a place and a sense of peace.

A man stepped next to him and they stood together wat hi g the flames of the bonfire wreath around one another in a fiery dance. The clan lived. Not in the obvious definition of the word but in the sense of having full lives. Laughter rang out. A sense of commraderie was felt. And life moved on. It was the way it should be.

Glancing over he looked at [member="Kad Tor"] as he spoke to him. Chuckling slightly at the man's words he took in the vod. Taller with more weight, Kad had an easy going presence. His clothes revealed that he was, truly, at home here on the moon of Onderon. He was younger then Muad would have thought. Most who commanded respect and authority earned it over many years and their visage and bodies reflected the strain and trials that came with time. But this man, this Kad Tor, was relatively young. It spoke to the character of such a man who garnered such renown so close to the abode of one called Sole Ruler.

"Aay'han traycn. And yes, this is a dream. When all you have come to love turns to dust in your mouth, it is hard to remember that being mando'ad is more then akaan. We were a proud people once. Held our heads high. Now .... now we are scattered and broken."

He sighed as he absently pinched the bridge of his nose. As headache was coming on as it always did when thoughts of the scattered mando'ade crossed his mind. And Manda'yaim laying in ruin. It was frustrating, knowing what his people were capable of and yet seeing more dar'manda cropping up every day.

"Our people need cin vhetin. We need to come together rather then being torn apart. We need what you have here, aliit and yaim."
 
"We are not scattered and broken," Kad answered as he watched the flames flicker about. "So much of our energy was spent on war, empire, domination, that we forgot what makes us who we are. We are fathers, mothers, brothers and sister, farmers, craftsman, there are even diplomats among us." Kad shook his head and turned to look at the man. "We are not broken, we have simply lost our way."

Kad's face turned back to the crowd of those the older warrior was watching. A breeze blew and caused the fire to flare for a brief moment before it settled back down. The smell of burning wood and smoke wafted over to where the men were standing, and Kad smiled. This warrior had simply forgotten what it was to be among his people when they were not at war. He had forgotten that they were still the proud people they had always been, and nothing would change this.

He motioned to the log where he had been sitting. A smaller fire was near it keeping an iron kettle of water warm. "My losses have turned me away from strong drink, but join me for tea and roast meat. You are one of the vode, and I will not turn you away from my fire."

His feet turned and he walked back. Looking over his shoulder, Kad made sure the man was following before he continued to speak.

"Too many fresh starts have been tried. Allegiances have been demanded, shifted, and broken more times than I care to recount in my short lifetime. I serve because it is my duty. I lead because I am all that is left of my clan that can lead. However, I refuse to lose hope that our people can thrive. We have survived much more than this in our history, and we will again.

[member="Muad Dib"]​
 
"Broken or lost, is it not the same? In the end it means we have lost our way."

He inclined his head in a short bow of acceptance for the hospitality offered. He actually could not remember the last time he had broke bread over a fire that did not involve some sort of military excursion on the morning. It would be a welcome change to sit and speak under peaceful terms and not worrying about an enemy sniper taking your head off.

As they walked towards the small fire where Kad had a kettle going Muad continue to listen to the younger Mandalorian. Reaching the log that was offered the Mad Knight straddled the fallen timber and sat. He well understood loss, for he saw the empty gaze of his vode in Clan Farr mingled with the pain, anger, and resentment. They had answered the call of their Mand'alor and followed Muad into battle with banners struck. Sword and shield and armor as vode stood shoulder to shoulder in the gap. A war that meant nothing.

Sighing he slowly unfastened the clasps on the edges of his gauntlets and slid them off freeing his hands and forearms to the night air that lightly blew through the encampment. Rolling the sleeves to his elbows he leaned forward into his upper thighs and watched the other man.

"I was not born into this life. I had a different origin a darker origin. But these people, our people, offered me not just a life not just a present but also a future. That was something that I never thought existed for me. Since becoming mando'ad all I have known is war and strife as the banners have been called by both Mand'alor and the Clans."

As he spoke he absently rubbed the scar that ran from elbow to wrist on hood forearm. A forearm and hand completely covered by blue Sith runes, all but the fingers. He stared into the fire now as he spoke, the flames of the smaller pit dancing around as if a vision of some distant past was coming to life. But another sigh and Muad turned once more to the young Alor.

"Hope. It is a word that I have used against my enemies. Remove the hope and you remove their heart which removes the fight. That is something that I never want to see in our people. But I have seen our brothers and sisters without hope. I have seen what no hope can do to my enemies and I pray to the gods that I never see that happen to the mando'ade."

Lightly he shook his left hand as if it had fallen to sleep, eyes once more drinking in the sight of the clan not just living but actually enjoying life. It was something he had never had, a peaceful existence.

[member="Kad Tor"]
 
"Broken implies we can't find our way back." Kad stated as he sat on the log and poured some tea. His blue eyes looked up to the man as they seemed to smirk. "Do you think that is the case?"

Kad let the question hand in the air as his strong arm extended a mug of hot tea to the man. Until he proved otherwise Iad would embrace him as a friend, a fellow warrior that only wanted what was best for the Mando'ade. That was where Kad would leave his skepticism however. Many had their own vision for the people that excluded some of their fellow warriors. There had been many ultimatums as of late, and Kad simply refused to think that way any longer. Their people needed healing not a declaration of who was and who was not dar'manda.

A sharp blade was pulled from the sheath Kad had fashioned into his belt. The goran had also dabbled in leathercraft being a man if the north country. Enceri blood still flowed through his veins, and his mannerisms showed it. The fires, the sense of community which displayed itself outdoors, these were traits of the community Kad experienced growing up in the northern province of Mandalore.

Plunging the blade into the small beast whuchnhad been roasting over Kad's personal fire, he cut a chunk of meat and offered it to his vod as well.

"We have all lost something, and someone. It's the thing which unites us even more than the Mand'alor himself. It has killed the hope of some, but not here. Hope thrives among us, because our culture is not confined to a planet. We have been a nomadic people before, and if we must be again, then so be it. This colony, this group will be here as long as we are able."

Kad took a hunk of meat for himself.

"So, vod what brings you to us?

[member="Muad Dib"]​
 
Taking the offered mug of tea with a nod of thanks Muad let the warmth seep into his hands. Watching the warrior and defacto leader of the clan the Mad Knight suppressed a smile. It was men and women like this that would never let the mando people die. Their stubborn resolve in the face of adversity and tragedy would never fail. It was one of the reasons Muad had gravitated to these people, his people.

"Aye. I say broken. And one thing I have learned among the vode is that nothing broken is ever truly destroyed. I've seen the smiths working on damaged, broken armor and weapons. They mold them through hammer and fire until the thing that was broken is reborn. That is what I mean when I say broken."

He took a sip of the dark liquid, the hot liquid selling into bones as the evening brought a light nip in the air. As he received the piece of meat freely give blue eyes glowed lightly in the darkness. An inner door unable to be extinguished. A reflection of the mando'ad and his own spirit. Suffering seemed to be part of the mando'ade, but so was rebirth. An ebb and flow that was represented throughout the Galaxy. But where others groups, nations, people feel to never rise again the mando'ade always persevered to rise once more.

Biting into the meat he listened to Kad speak. The sentiment shared by the younger vod were also held by the Mad Knight. As Kad asked what brought him here, Muad grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while chewing thoughtfully. Swallowing he nodded absently at the flavor of the meat.

"Why have I come? Well that's easy. Hope. Yes, our people are broken and scattered. But we can mend and be reforged. All it takes is putting aside all the osik and being vode once more. Unfortunately there are many mando'ad who are too prideful to let go of past transgresses."

[member="Kad Tor"]
 

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