Private The Champion and the Heir [Jenn Kryze]

[Varys Amun]

The Champion: Jenn Kryze
The Heir: Varys Amun

​

Amun Steading,
Dantooine

Varys knelt in the damp soil, her knees and back aching as she scooped away a handful of dirt, carefully retrieving a small tuber from the well she had created. She placed the vegetable in her basket before straightening up with a sigh of satisfaction. The last row done. She had made good time. She rose to her feet, wiped her hands, and began the walk back to camp through the long rows of rutted dirt. The harvest season was nearing its end, and the constant Dantooine winds had begun to bite with cold. The first frost could not be more than a few weeks away.

A familiar smudge of smoke rose over the camp, and even from a distance, Varys' sharp eyes could pick out figures milling around the stove, preparing their usual supper. The closer she got to home, the more her stomach churned with anxiety. Knowing what she had done, what she was yet to do, it was almost too much to bear.

"Varys! Kai'tome tsikala. Food is ready."

"I'll take it in my room!" she called back.

Varys made a beeline for her tent, keeping her head down as she passed the firepits, ignoring the greetings from her kin around the fire. That strategy worked, until she rounded the corner to her tent and bumped into the familiar figure of her mother, the Alor, Lyka Amun.

"Varys, what is the matter with you?" the Alor looked down at her with a concerned expression. "Did the people in town make trouble?"

"Nayc buir. No, Mother. It's nothing. I'm fine."

"If you were fine you would not be moping about." Lyka replied tersely.

"We are moving into the Karyai for the winter. I'll need your help to move our things in the morning, so no running off to the creek."

Varys grunted an affirmation and quickly slipped passed Lyka and into her tent.

The Karyai was the clan longhouse a few minutes walk from camp. In the summer months it mostly served as storage, but during the cold season the Alor and her family moved indoors.

They were moving already? Last year her mother hadn't ordered them to move until two weeks after the first frost. Varys remembered it well, because she had complained bitterly about the cold which leeched into her tent from the frozen ground. Apparently, the Alor remembered too.

"Ughhghghghghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!" Varys clenched her fists. It wasn't that she had to help the family move. That was fine enough. No, that if they moved into the Karyai, Varys would sleep on a mat on the floor beside her kin.

Meaning if she was really going to run away, she had to do it tonight.

Varys heard the clink of crockery outside and quickly popped out to retrieve the steaming bowl of stew and hunk of bread-- their cold season meal-- murmuring her thanks to whichever kin had brought it over. She removed her helmet and ate on her cot, her eyes scanning the space, assessing her meagre belongings. At least it wouldn't take long to pack.

That was it then, ba'slanar Dantooine. Goodbye. Varys nodded to herself. She'd fill her rucksack and wait until early nightfall, then walk to town and find the Enclave soldiers she'd heard landed that morning. With some luck, she'd be off the planet before the Amun's even noticed she was gone.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Offer redemption

Before Jenn had left Kestri, several warriors of her Clan came to her, pleading with her not to go through with her plan.

They called it madness, a pointless suicide mission. Clan Kryze was only picking itself up from a long time of decline under her leadership - if she died at the hands of the Dar'manda who had thrown their lot in with the Sith, then everything she had worked for would be forgotten. Without her voice to rally behind, the Protectors would splinter and argue, rather than offer a true alternative to the cause of the Crusaders. Was she truly capable of throwing all of this away for the sake of traitors?

Yes.

Traitors they may be, those who had left the Mando'ade behind to side with the Sith deserved a chance at redemption, and if none dared to reach out, then she would. Just as no other had dared to stand up as a voice against the Crusade. All it took was for a single voice to rise in order for orders to follow.

That was how Jenn, Alor of Clan Kryze, had found herself leaving for Dantooine, with nothing but a small escort. A squad of volunteers, willing to fight and die for the future of their people. If any held misgivings about the mission, they left them in the back of their mind, putting their loyalty to the head of their Clan first.

Welcomed with open hostility at first, the Protectors were eventually allowed to remain on Dantooine after some tense negotiations at the point of a blaster. The exiles viewed their "cousins" from the Enclave with nothing but scorn, mistaking the earnest desire to see them brought back into the fold as condescension or pity at best. At worst, they accused Jenn of being nothing more than a pragmatist, looking to replenish the ranks of the Enclave with more warriors to assist in the fight against the Galactic Alliance.

But some listened to the words she spoke, and, throughout the day, small groups or individuals would come to the small camp she and her retinue had erected close to their ships, seeking the one bold enough to risk her life by coming to Dantooine in the hopes of offering redemption to those most dismissed as lost. And, soon, word spread like wildfire throughout the Clans of the Alor who spoke nothing but truth.

"We must leave, and soon. The Clans grow restless", warned one of the Clanless locals she had recruited to her cause as they poked the campfire with a stick, their voice just as calm and even as her own: a quality she valued. This one, she knew, respected wisdom - and, for a time, they had found wisdom elsewhere. This, Jenn could respect.

"Do you believe they will attack us?" inquired the Alor as she warmed her hands over the fire, looking over the small handful of Mandalorians she had convinced of her words. Uneasy as some of her own retinue had been at the prospect at first, Jenn encouraged them to sit together by the fire, to show them that they were all kin.

"It's possible. They might strike under cover of night."

"Are you sure?"

"It's what I would do."

The Alor could not argue with that logic. There was no monolithic notion of honor in Mandalorian culture, no matter what the Jedi might think when they accused her of crimes she did not commit.

"Pam, Yrrel, hop into your starfighters", instructed Jenn. "The rest of you, start packing up. We leave in an hour."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Leaving quietly turned out to be harder than Varys thought. While most of the clan retired soon after their meal, having spent a long day in the fields, three people remained by the fire: her mother, Lyka, and her two eldest cousins, Prudii and Ourania. They talked in hushed voices, their faces etched with a concern and something else, something harder.

Varys watched them through the crack of her tent opening. If she tried to slip away now, she would surely be seen.

Her pack sat beside her, stuffed full of fresh vegetables, water, and a few of Varys' knick-knacks. Her most prized possessions— her knife, the pendant with her clan aliik, and 53 Alliance credits— she kept on her person. She waited there, crouched and ready to slip away, for hours. The shadows outside grew long and met the darkening sky. Still she waited, watching the trio by the fire intensely, her joints stiff and aching. True night fell, and finally, someone- Ourania, it looked like, stood up and walked towards the Karyai, murmuring something to the others.

Varys took her chance. Silently, she opened the flap of her tent and ducked outside. Varys crept slowly around the base of her tent, praying she wouldn't be seen. With every moment she anticipated the shout of alarm, the footsteps pounding over to her only to be dragged by the nape of her neck back to the firepit to explain herself in front of her family.

Nobody called out. Her heart in her mouth, Varys slipped behind her tent, where the Alor and her cousins couldn't see her. She'd made it.

Varys heard booted footsteps returning from the path to the Karyai. She risked a peek. Ourania had returned with a bundle of metal objects that glittered in the firelight. With a start she realised what they were: rifles. Varys turned away. Chit. That was not good. She should have thought the arrival of Mandalorian missionaries would rile up the Clan elders. Damn it. If they were going to do something stupid, Varys would have to make sure she reached the Enclave before her family did.

"Goodbye." It was barely a whisper. Varys stole one last gaze at Ourania, Lyka and Prudii before hurrying silently from the camp.

As she walked the high road to town, Varys' spirits lifted. The night was cold and bright, lit by a full moon in a cloudless sky. She felt concerned, a bit ashamed, and fearful. But she was also free. It felt like Varys was starting the rest of her life.

Before long, Varys caught sight of the hulking silhouette of a transport, and below it the makings of a temporary camp. There was a hum of activity, and she could hear engines, and instinctively she knew ships must be circling overhead. These people meant business.

As she approached, a sentry stood up and called out to her.

"Hey! Aren't you the Amun girl? What are you doing here?"

"Uh. Gar serim. Yes. I'm here to see whoever's in charge."

The Mandalorian's laugh echoed dully in his helmet.

"Okay dar'manda. Stay here. I'll get her."

That stung, but Varys buried her anger and her fear. She crossed her arms, held her head high, and waited.

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Offer redemption

Starfighters screamed through the air as they circled the camp, waiting for any sign of trouble to bring their weapons to bear: below them, the sentries made sure to cover the perimeter of the camp as the rest of the free hands went about packing up the supplies aboard the freighter. They would be gone, soon: hopefully before the Clans of Dantooine chose to strike against the foolish outsiders who thought to talk impressionable youths into joing up with them.

Varys was not left to wait in the chill of the night air for long. Merely a minute after the sentry's departure, the person she had asked for came to the edge of the camp to meet her, her every step betraying a certain determination.

Jenn's arrival was marked with... remarkably little flair, nor fanfare. The woman who stood before the girl of Clan Amun hardly looked like most people's idea of a leader: her beskar'gam was a modest thing, as was her equipment. She did not look particularly tall, or strong, or otherwise possessed with that aura heroes were supposed to have about them. And yet, here she stood, looking the new arrival up and down in silence from behind her Y visor, without any guards at her side.

"Su cuy'gar", greeted the woman at last, her voice calm and even. As it always was, bringing a measure of control where there was none to be found. "I am Jenn, Alor of Clan Kryze, Kayatr'ade of the Mandalorian Enclave. Henryk tells me you are of Clan Amun, that you wish to speak to me."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys spotted the Enclave camp's leader immediately. She was not particularly distinct from the other warriors, but she strode towards Varys with purpose, and there was a certain authority with which she held herself.

Varys studied the beskar'gam, and her aliik, trying to guess where she belonged. She decided that she was probably a Kryze, a clan of renown.

The woman stopped in front of her. Varys swallowed. She followed the Mandalorian woman's gaze up and down, and she was glad that she was wearing her helmet, so that she could not see the uncertainty on Varys' face. They were around the same height, but at the moment Varys felt very, very small.

"I am Jenn, Alor of Clan Kryze, Kayatr'ade of the Mandalorian Enclave. Henryk tells me you are of Clan Amun, that you wish to speak to me."

Varys had been correct. The woman, Jenn, she was a Kryze. More than that, she was the Alor. She looked different to how she'd imagined an Enclave leader, but still... Right. Closer to her mother than what she had pictured in her daydreams.

"Elek. Yes." Varys said quietly. She heard the voice of her ba'buir, Riela, in her head. Speak up adiik. No vod will respect you if they can't hear you.

"I am here because I am not dar'manda." Varys stood straight, her eyes fixed in front, on Jenn's visor. Her voice was louder, but still shaky. "I did not commit the sins of my elders, but I will repay them. Take me in, and I will show you. Ori'haat. I swear it." Varys bowed her head respectfully. She felt like she was about to pass out.

The sentry who'd insulted her— Henryk— shook his head slowly. She had seen him around town before, hadn't thought much of him. Obviously he was as sick of this agrarian corner of Dantooine as she was. He looked over at Jenn.

"No. Not her. She would be capable enough, but the Amuns are trouble. A stain upon your clan, even this runaway."

Varys looked over at Jenn, her heart sinking. She knew the man was right. She could not patch over what her family had done, even if she ran away. It would always follow her, and she would never belong. She shifted from foot-to-foot, waiting to be told to go home.

"You don't have to let me down easy." said Varyn, not meeting Jenn's gaze. "I understand."

If she left now, maybe she could even make it back to her tent without being discovered. More likely she would be cleaning dishes and shovelling manure for the next week.

She sniffled pathetically, her eyes welling with tears. It was all so unfair.

Once again, she was thankful for the helmet.

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Offer Redemption

Unimpressive as she may appear at first glance, Jenn's hidden gaze was no less intense, and so was her silence as she listened to the young warrior's words. No attempt was made to interrupt Varys, nor to answer her at first - but when Henryk spoke up and looked over to her, she calmly turned her gaze towards him. As with all members of her Clan, she considered him to be family, giving his judgement more weight than it otherwise would have: but, in the end, barely any of her kin had been raised as children of Clan Kryze. As far as she was aware, only Nelliel and herself held on to that title throughout the years, stubbornly refusing to abandon the legacy of those that came before them.

No, most of these new Clan members took the name Kryze only recently, when she called for like-minded individuals to join her cause... and, for those few deserving of it? Her family. And that fact was enough for her to come to a decision as she turned her gaze upon the girl once more.

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din", came the Alor's judgement at last. "Family is more than blood. I will not turn away those who wish for redemption, may they be Amun, Eldar, or Rook. And this warrior's blood does not define her - only her will can." There was a certain warmth to her voice as she spoke: either Varys' sniffling had not gone unnoticed, or the Alor's Force Sense told her of the turmoil she felt. Leaving her family behind to pursue her own path was an act of bravery, in the eyes of the figurehead of the Protectors.

Turning her gaze towards the sentry, the sight of her Y visor focused entirely on him was enough to shut Henryk right up, the protest dying in his throat.

"I have spoken", she declared, her voice firm once more - utterly stomping on the possibility of there being room for argument. When needed, the Alor did not hesitate to put her foot down, even with those she regarded as family.

"This is the Way", he answered simply, letting his assent of her decision and deference to her known.

"This is the Way."

Although Jenn no longer followed the strict tenets of the Way of the Mandalore, she returned his words nonetheless. More than anyone else, she knew of the importance of unity.

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys rocked gently from foot-to-foot as she listened to Jenn's words. Instead of cutting deep as she expected, they were kind, and filled her with a giddy fluttery feeling. In fact, she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"I have spoken"

"This is the way." She whispered to herself. A smile crept onto her lips. It was done then. In a few words, it had been decided. She would be leaving this planet for good. Varys' heart soared.

Before she knew what she was doing, Varys was moving forward, closing the short distance between herself and Jenn. She wrapped the woman in a tight embrace.

"Vor entye." she whispered. "Thank you. You won't regret this."

She was also thrilled to see Henryk, the one who had called her dar'manda, overruled. Her potential had been recognised, and his closed-mindedness had been ignored. For Varys, it was a refreshing change of pace.

Then, comingling with her joy and relief, another thought started to congeal. It was something that had been in the back of her mind since she had snuck out of camp. What about her Beskar'gam? Varys pursed her lips. The Alor, Jenn, she would almost certainly say no. But was it worth trying anyway?

"Uh. There is something else." Varys said quietly, so only Jenn could hear her. "I have no beskar'gam. Only this ceremonial thing." She gestured lamely at her decorative, patterned armour. Pretty, but also pretty useless. "The real sets, made of beskar, they are back at my family's farm.

"Ibac'ner. One of them is rightfully mine. I need to go back for it. You could come with me?"

If they were quick, and quiet, they could get into the Karyai and retrieve the armour. The hubbub around camp would serve as a good distraction. Varys smiled. It was satisfying to think of her cousins fretting about Mandalorian outsiders while Varys slipped away under their nose and took back her birthright.

"Tion gar gaa'tayl ni? Will you help me?" Varys implored Jenn. "I won't be much use to you without armour. And it won't take long."

Jenn Kryze​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Offer Redemption

Varys' sudden approach was met with some surprise from the Alor - and the unexpected hug claimed a gasp from her as well. The poor woman seemed rather uncertain of how to proceed at first, only for her to smile ever-so gently behind her helmet, bringing her arms around the girl in a loose, but no less motherly embrace. The young warrior's words of thanks were met with naught but a firm clasp of a hand on her shoulder.

Great trust had been placed upon Varys' shoulder... and with it, came a certain pride. Inscrutable as the Y visor may be, there was no mistaking the warmth shown to her, nor the immense pride practically radiating from the Alor.

The request, however, was met with silent pondering on Jenn's part. It was... risky, to say the least. After all, her people were ready to leave, and the Clans were getting restless. Such an act of provocation would not go unnoticed if they found themselves spotted - and if she chose to walk into the home of another Clan with her personal retinue, they would be well within their rights to fight them off. All in all, putting her foot down and denying the girl this folly of a venture would be wise, and yet... beskar was the birthright of all Mandalorians. Who was she to deny this courageous warrior what was owed to her?

"Henryk, take the freighter and get out of here. This verd'ika and I have unfinished business on Dantooine." Words spoken calmly, with utmost confidence, and without even bothering to turn to look his way. Parting her hand from Varys' shoulder, the older Mandalorian gave her a reassuring nod.

"As you command, Alor. I'll keep a pair of starfighters on standby for fire support if needed, and a gunship to pick you up when you are done." And with that, Henryk jogged back to the camp, relaying the orders to the rest of the Clan.

For her part, Jenn gave her new charge an upnod.

"Lead the way."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

"Lead the way."

"Ori jate. Very good."

Varys grinned to herself. She straightened up and squared her shoulders. This was a chance to show Jenn her wits and her grit. If she impressed her now, no doubt the Alor would look favourably on her. She was pretty sure she could get in and out without raising the alarm, and besides, even if they did get seen, it wasn't like the Amun's would try to harm Jenn while Varys was there, right?

As the freighter rose into the night sky and disappeared, the pair walked up the raised road, the fields stretching out endlessly on either side of them.

The night was no longer bright. Clouds had blocked the shining moon above. Varys' eyes strained to see the road ahead, but all was dark and still. The darkness quietened Varys, too. She'd had a million questions, a billion thoughts just a few minutes ago, but now all she could focus on was the quiet crunch of Jenn's boots on the packed dirt road, and the chirping of nighttime critters.

The road began to curve and Varys looked up, breaking from her reverie. They had gone a bit further than she'd intended. She could see the firelight of the Amun camp shining in the distance.

"Not far to go." said Varys "We'd better leave the roa-"

There was a flash of movement beside Varys and something heavy struck her, sending her tumbling off the road into the field below. She hit the ground hard, and a moment
later, someone landed on top of her.

Varys wheezed and blinked away stars. She was disoriented and winded. Worse, Prudii was kneeling on top of her chestplate, pinning her. He looked down at her.

"If you know what's good for you, Varys, you'll stay still and shut up."

Varys tried to curse at him but she couldn't find the breath. She grunted with frustration.

Then, from the road above, a voice, harsh and powerful, rang out through the still night air.

"ARUETTI! Ge'hutuun. Outsider! Bandit. You trespass on Amun land. You attempt to abduct my child. You seek to undermine my authority, Kryze? To wipe my family out for good? Tion jorbe. Explain, or I will cut you down."

Varys craned her neck, and caught a glimpse of her mother, beskad in hand, as she strode toward Jenn.

"Don't hurt her!" Finally, she'd found her breath. But was she pleading with Lyka, or Jenn? Varys wasn't sure. Either way it looked like blood would be spilled, and it was all her fault.

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Speak and be heard. Failing that? Fight.

Jenn followed the eager verd'ika along the path, visor turning this way and that as they progressed through the night, occasionally slipping to night vision and thermals, if only to assuage her fears that the rest of Clan Amun was laying in wait to spring an ambush. For all of her vigilance, however, the Alor was just as surprised as her protege: as shed turned to look her way, aiming to ask her for details on the layout of the camp, a moment of distraction was all Prudii needed to act.

Movement at the edge of her vision alerted the seasoned warrior, already rotating to address the threat - only to see Varys tackled and sent tumbling down into the field below the road! Just as she reached out to take a hold of her blaster pistol, however, a voice rang out, and her visor immediately turned to meet its source.

Ah, shit.

Slowly, carefully, the Nite Owl abandoned her hold on the grip of her pistol, choosing to stand up straight and face the approaching figure instead, doing nothing to draw her own beskad. Evidently, she had walked right into a trap - one that Varys was ostensibly unaware of, considering how she pleaded. Jenn could only hope that her lifelong commitment to truth would see her through another tense encounter: after all, this was hardly the first time she found herself trying to talk down someone who was, by all account, the enemy.

"I did not abduct your child, nor did I ask her to leave. She came to me, of her own volition, to fight for the Mandalorian Enclave - and, in doing so, cleanse the name Amun of the shame you brought upon it." Jenn made no effort to hide the accusation behind her words. Instead, she took a bold step forward, and then another, still unarmed, hoping that the woman before her still ascribed to some measure of honor, abject betrayer that she was. "Manda'yaim is lost to us because of you. My buir was murdered before my very eyes. My Clan, reduced to ashes. But your ad'ika is innocent of the many crimes of Clan Amun. I would never bring harm to her."

There was a pause, then, as she opened her arms, giving the woman before her the perfect chance to find a weak spot to strike: somewhere unprotected by beskar, where her blade could pierce the bodysuit and into her flesh.

"You are so horribly astray, ner'vod, but you are not yet lost. For all that you have done, all the things that I cannot forgive... I have no intention of bringing harm to you, or your aliit. There may yet be a time when the name Amun can be uttered with respect, not resentment. If I brought the full might of Clan Kryze down upon you, then I would only shed Mandalorian blood, and destroy any hope of ever seeing you and your family return from this disgrace. Let me and your ad'ika pass safely, let her take what is hers by right. You have a rare chance to prove that you are more than what the stories make you out to be. But the choice is yours, and yours alone."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Varys struggled to get up, but Prudii's grip was iron. Pictures flashed through her mind: Jenn, bloodied and beaten, or worse, her mother, lying on her back, blood pooling underneath her body. Varys screamed and beat on Prudii's chest

"Duumir ni! Let me go, let me go, let me GO!"

Varys forced herself to relax, and let her arms fall to her sides. As she did she rolled her shoulders, and pulled from a holster on her hip a small knife. She shrieked and slashed at Prudii, the knife skipping along the man's chestplate before catching on his bodyglove and cutting deep. Prudii growled in pain and leaped off of her. Varys was up in a flash, scrambling up the embankment and onto the dirt road. She ran between the pair—Jenn standing steadily, her mother brandishing her blade, shaking with anger—and held up both hands.

"Buir, gev. Stop it. She is not our enemy." Varys said shakily.

Lyka turned from Jenn to look at her, like she was just realising Varys was there. She stepped forward and opened her arms, and for a moment, Varys thought she was trying to give her a hug, but then Lyka's free hand balled into a fist and she struck Varys hard across her head. She gasped and fell to her knees. Lyka strode past her, so that the Alor was toe-to-toe with Jenn, looking down at them.

"You know nothing of my Clan." Lyka said forcefully. "Despite what my deluded child may believe, my family have no need for absolution. We did what we needed to survive.

"How is it you are Alor, hmm? Where are your elders, Kryze? I will tell you, their bones litter the wastlelands of Manda'yaim, while my family lives, and carries on the history of our people." Lyka bowed her head a moment, almost reverently. "Most Mando'ade do not understand that sacrifice, but we do not invite your understanding, nor your forgiveness."

She looked down at Varys.

"I have tried to teach this to my alliit, but clearly it has fallen on deaf ears."

Seemingly having decided that there would not be any immediate violence, Lyka sheathed her beskad. Varys let out a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding.

"Ba'slanaar. It is time for you and your aruetiise to depart. Leave my child. I will decide what is to be done with her."

"Nayc, buir. I will not stay here. You cannot keep me."

Lyka laughed harshly.

"Then you doom yourself, Varys. You have even less sense than I thought."

She pointed an accusatory finger at Jenn.

"She does not understand, but surely you must. You may accept her, but the moment the rest of them see her berkar'gam they will realise it is her family who left Manda'yaim to burn, and they will kill her.

"Who will protect her? You, Kryze girl? What about when your back is turned?"

"I can take care of myself." Varys retorted.

Lyka looked back at Varys, and cocked her head.

"I am starting to think you are not worthy of the sacrifices I have made for you, little Var'ika. You wish to go with this woman, abandon your family?"

Varys nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Lek. Yes. I have to."

"I see." The Alor's voice was hard. "Then say it, Alor of Clan Kryze. 'Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad'. Adopt her as your own. Vow you will not allow her to die in the name of this foolishness."

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine, Road to Amun Steading
| Objective | Fight the rage. Adopt a daughter.

This, Jenn realized, was her greatest test just yet.

As she looked into the Alor's visor, her counterpart saw only the evil of the traitor's actions still burning. In that moment, every fiber in her being yearned to put an end to her life - to avenge her family, to punish her for daring to speak down to her, as if the path she walked was one of strength, even as she stained her Clan with the mark of cowards. Controlling the rage that burned within her was a daily struggle for Jenn: if she failed, then everything she fought for would be for nothing, all of her efforts to become someone worthy of her title and improve as an individual wasted.

What angered her most was how she spoke to Varys. Seeing the dishonorable wretch striking her own daughter was enough for her to bring her hand to rest over her holster, ready to display just how frightening she could be when it came to quick-drawing! That she hardly knew the girl mattered not to the Alor. Evidently, she had seen enough, and only the desire not to kill the courageous young warrior's mother before her eyes stayed her hand, her heart burning with abject hatred.

It was only when the Alor of Clan Amun demanded something of her that she was finally brought to action, and even then, she ignored the loathsome traitor entirely. Instead, she stepped towards Varys, offering her a hand to lift her up to her feet. It would not do for her to make her offer whilst looming over the poor girl, or to do so because her mother, abuser that she was, had asked her to do it. Never again would she let anyone hit that girl for daring to assert herself.

"Is this what you want, verd'ika?" asked the Ersansyr softly. And, in the wake of her approval, she gave but a nod. Lyka Amun was not neither kin, nor friend, and so she did not deserve to see her face. But her daughter, Varys, deserved to see the face of the one who would henceforth treat her as her very own flesh and blood. This was more than merely adopting someone into the Clan, as she had done several times now since the renewal of Clan Kryze. This was something more, something made all too obvious as she brought both hands to rest against her helmet, removing it with a hiss of depressurization and holding it under her arm.

From her fiery hair to her luminescent eyes, Jenn was a remarkable individual - one whose beauty and presence was, evidently, hidden away underneath that plain armor of hers. Bringing a hand to rest on Varys' shoulder, the Alor plunged her gaze into the girl's visor, each and every word that left her lips possessed with an otherworldly echo.

"Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child, Varys."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

Kneeling in the dirt, Varys stared at Lyka. Unable to believe what she was hearing.

"I don't-" Varys began. "Are you-?"

It sank in. Varys had been cut loose. She could leave to go with Jenn, but she would not be allowed to come back.

Numbly, Varys felt a hand on her shoulder. Jenn appeared in front of her, helping her up. She looked up at the woman, almost dazed, and took her hand. She allowed Jenn to steady her.

"Is this what you want, verd'ika?"

Varys looked at Lyka, the Alor gazed back at her, unmoving, unfeeling, unloving. She said nothing. Varys looked away, back to Jenn.

"Elek. Yes." she said softly. "This is what I want."

Jenn reached her hands up, and removed her helmet. Varys' body stiffened and she pressed her lips together, momentarily petrified at the thought of seeing the woman's face. But, that emotion was fast replaced with wonder as she saw the Jenn's red hair spill out from beneath her helmet. Blue eyes like Varys had never seen. A certain power that would have scared her if the warmth in the woman's expression wasn't so obvious. She was wonderful.

Varys knew it that moment she should also take her helmet off, to show Jenn, in turn, who she was: how she'd inherited Lyka's hard eyes, her leering expression and her wiry black hair. But Varys could find the strength to do it. Where Jenn was so much more beneath her armour than she seemed, Varys was so much less. She hung her head.

Then, Jenn spoke.

"Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child, Varys."

Jenn's voice was otherworldly, setting Varys' senses alight, so that the words were all she could hear and feel, burning away her sorrow and everything else. They filled her with warmth, made her heart ache and her teeth hurt.

A long silence stretched after the Jenn's words. Nobody said anything for a long while. Even the nighttime chirping of small animals had ceased. Varys leaned her weight on Jenn, her head resting on the woman's shoulder. She could feel intense and nameless feelings roiling in her gut, welling up from her chest into her throat. Varys clenched her teeth and balled her hands into fists. As soon as she was safe, as soon as she was away from here, she would let it out. But she could not allow the other Amuns to see that.

"Vor entye. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. Varys whispered to Jenn. "I won't disappoint you. I promise. I will make you proud."

Lyka shifted. Prudii emerged from the field below, clutching his shoulder, and stood behind her.

"It is done." Lyka said finally. "Var'ika. Varys. You are aruetii now, do you understand? Outsider. I hope you find this was worth it."

Varys ignored her and turned her back. Lyka made a disgusted sound. Varys looked to Jenn.

"Can we go?"

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Leave Dantooine. Return home.

Varys was not admonished for keeping her helmet on. Jenn had made the choice to cross that boundary, and she would never dream of demanding the same of the young outcast. No, she would do everything in her power to be everything Lyka Amun failed to be for her daughter, no matter the obstacles standing in her way to accomplish such a goal. Wrapping her arm around the girl as she leaned in against her, the fiery-haired Alor smiled, her words as melodious and otherworldly as before - and filled with gentle warmth, too. "I know you will."

Words uttered with utmost confidence, as if it could only be so. With Varys parting from her and Lyka's words marking an end to her daughter's life among the clan, the Nite Owl saw little reason to stay in the presence of someone so loathsome as to become dar'buir. Turning her gaze from the infuriating sight of the matriarch of that Clan of traitors, Jenn's gaze softened as she met Varys' gaze and heard her request. "Of course, ner'ad."

The words rolled off her tongue so very naturally. As if the title came all too easily to the Alor of Clan Kryze, calling the little owl daughter with pride and affection behind that very word. And, with that, she turned her heels, eager to take her adoptive daughter away from the harsh gaze of the one she had once called mother. It was only once they had made some distance between themselves and the Amun steading that she dared to bring two fingers to the side of her helmet, where the rangefinder emerged. "Henryk, send a gunship. Varys and I are coming home."

"Should we expect trouble from our wayward vode?"

"I trust their Alor about as far as I can throw her, but it seems we came to an understanding."

"Understood, Alor. Karrys is on her way now."

Satisfied, the Nite Owl sat down on the road, patting the floor next to her to invite Varys to do the same. It would take a few minutes for the pilot to get to them, after all, and she figured her daughter would need a chance to breathe. After all, she could hardly miss the way she choked up in her arms earlier. Slowly, the glow in her eyes seemed to fade, the intensity of the confrontation fading away, letting them return to those calm pools of grey.

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

"Of course, ner'ad."

Ner'ad. Varys smiled. Jenn was kind. Kinder than her mother, from what she could tell. She was very lucky to have found her. The thought of being her daughter was still strange and, if she was honest, frightening, but it made her feel warm inside, too.

They left the Amuns behind, and Varys, for her part, did not look back. She did imagine Lyka's lingering stare as they rounded the bend and disappeared from view, imagined her turning away from the girl who was no longer her daughter. The pair walked back down the raised road in silence, leaving Varys' old world behind. A weight had been taken off her shoulders, but she felt fragile and shaken. Once they had gone far enough, Varys took a seat on the cold ground, joining Jenn.

"Where will we go now?" Varys asked Jenn. "Where is home for you... For us?"

The sound of ion engines broke through the stillness and Varys craned her neck, peering into the gloom until she spotted the gunship circling down to retrieve them. She was relieved to see it.

"Cuun mesen olaror. Guess this is us."

As soon as the ship had settled, Varys took her seat inside, strapping herself into the chair without delay. She was eager to be away her legs bounced restlessly with anxiety, waiting for Jenn to board.

"Ke'slana. Lets go then." said Varys. "I'll be happy to leave this planet behi-"

The words caught before she could finish. Varys' throat tightened like she was choking. Her eyes filled with hot tears that blurred her vision. A moment ago she had felt alright, but now she was drowning.

Varys turned from Jenn and tried to weep as quietly as she could, but with each passing second her heart beat faster and her face got hotter and the feelings inside of her made her want to scream and tear her hair out. Varys gritted her teeth and hugged her knees, her body shaking as silent tears turned into wracking sobs.

"What have I done?" Varys whispered, barely audibly. "Am I insane?" She buried her head in her hands. Distantly, she have worried about how Jenn might view display, if she would feel rejected. But Varys' thoughts were mostly fixed on herself: the life she had just destroyed; how her future was unclear; and how, no matter what happened from here, Varys could never undo what had happened that night. Life with the Amuns had never been easy, but Varys knew that out there, things could be so, so much worse.

"Ke'digu ner laandur. Forget my tenderness." said Varys, between sniffles. She rapped her knuckles on her helmet in frustration. "I am not myself right now."

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Dantooine
| Objective | Leave Dantooine. Return home.

"B'yaim Haar Cabur", uttered the Alor simply, setting down her helmet and turning to look at her daughter's visor. "Home of The Protectors. Some old military base on Kestri's moon I obtained permission to repurpose into the Clan's base of operations. Only those who bear the name Kryze may enter, but Alor and Alor'ad alike can make exceptions, and I will never force you to take up my name, ner'ad." A reassuring smile followed her words, a hand brought to rest over the girl's shoulder.

Mother and daughter alike were all too glad to leave the planet, it seemed, and so they both entered the transport and made for the seats. But, just as Jenn seemed ready to strap herself in as well, she heard Varys' voice break. With worry etched all over her features, the proud matriarch of Clan Kryze knelt down before the girl as the door leading into the small gunship closed. Slowly, gently, she reached out to take the young warrior's hands into her own - should the girl allow her to do so, of course.

"It's alright", assured the Nite Owl. "It's alright. Let it all out, ad'ika." There was no reproach in her voice, no sense of heartbreak at the notion of Varys regretting what she had lost. How couldn't she? Lyka had raised her all these years, and, no matter how cold and unloving she had proven to be in those last moments... she was the one Varys called mother ever since she was a child. "There is no shame in this, Varys. You freed yourself, and that takes strength, and courage. But it was your life, little star, and the tears you shed for it are nothing to be ashamed of."

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

"Home of The Protectors. Some old military base on Kestri's moon I obtained permission to repurpose into the Clan's base of operations.

That sounded interesting. Varys had not heard of the Protectors. In fact, she knew shockingly little about Jenn, her clan, or the Enclave. An hour or two ago, the place would have sounded exciting. Varys supposed it still was exciting, but it was also terrifying, and so destabilising. Varys placed her head in her hands, fresh tears flowing, still wallowing in her misery. Embarrassing.

Though Varys hated being seen like this, she was glad when Jenn came to comfort her. She felt the woman take a place beside her and inclined her head respectfully.

Varys took off her gloves and grasped Jenn's offered hand. Varys' own hands were clammy, but she was sure Jenn wouldn't mind too much. Varys gripped the woman's hand and leant on her shoulder. Gradually her heartrate slowed, her breath steadied. Calm settled.

"There is no shame in this, Varys. You freed yourself, and that takes strength, and courage. But it was your life, little star, and the tears you shed for it are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thank you, Buir. I am glad that I found you." Varys said quietly.

Jenn was kind, but she was wrong. Varys was weak, and that was shameful. Though Jenn could be trusted, Varys knew that trust could not be extended to wider Mando'ade. She had to reign in her emotions and supress her grief sooner rather than later, lest her she suffer for her vulnerability.

"But I do not wish for you to see this side of me. What's done is done, it's foolish for me to dwell on it."

Varys sat up straight. She stopped leaning on her adoptive mother, but kept her hand interlinked with the woman's. Varys did not let it all out, instead she pushed it down, pushed past the feelings roiling inside, did her best to ignore the sensation of dried tears on her cheeks. From now on, as much as she could, she would be a picture of strength and grit.

Varys would prove herself yet, and Jenn would look upon her with admiration, not pity. She would be proud to call Varys daughter, glad to have Varys at her side.

"Let's go, Buir. I am ready for whatever's next."

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | The Enduring Flame
| Objective | Go home.

Jenn knew that her mother would disapprove of a great many things she had done ever since the fall of Mandalore - but, in the end, all that truly mattered to the fiery-haired warrior was to continue the cycle, and pass on the legacy given to her. Not quite the legacy of the Mando'ade, nor that of Clan Kryze, no... but a legacy found in her family. Compassion, patience, and love: all of them had been offered to her by her mother as well as her siblings, accepting her without a care for the fact that she did not share their blood. ​

​

Just as she shared no blood with Varys, and yet accept her into her home as her very own daughter, holding her close as she wept. Bringing her comfort, no matter how slight, was never an act without worth. And yet... the would-be mother's features betrayed a soul-deep sadness when her daughter sat up straight and leaned away from her, speaking words she disagreed with so very immensely. And yet, her voice remained calm and gentle as she spoke, even now, with her beliefs put in question by her adoptive daughter.​

​

"I disagree, Varys. Looking back on what has shaped your entire life is not foolishness. Neither is mourning it, nor being vulnerable. But... you are your own person, ad'ika." There was so much more she wanted to say, and yet... the events of the day had been far-reaching in their consequences, for both of them. Rather than burying the poor girl under a mountain of rules, values, and responsibilities, Jenn chose to approach her daughter's training and education under the ways of Clan Kryze slowly, one step at a time.​

​

For now, it was time to leave Dantooine and Clan Amun behind. Varys' future awaited, and with her desire to go and meet the next obstacle in her journey made clear, the Alor squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly, her lips pulling into a gentle smile once more. ​

​

"Then let it be so, ner'ad. Karrys, fly us away!"​

​

The gunship's engines roared to life once more, and before long, Dantooine was nothing more than a memory. In no time at all, the gunship set down into the hangar of the Enduring Flame, the Clan's only frigate for now - a humble vessel, to be sure, but one bristling with weapons! Meant to provide a measure of safety for the freighter brought down onto the surface earlier, the ship was, for the most part, rather quiet. There were only so many warriors who had chosen to join Jenn's stand against the Crusade, after all...​

​

And, when the both of them stepped down from the ramp after it was lowered, there was no denying the fact that Varys caught more than a few odd looks from those warriors within the hangar as her mother went about ordering the pilot to transmit the command to leave Dantooine and return to Kestri posthaste. Although she was hardly the first wayward vode they had seen rescued from dishonour and obscurity by their Alor, the markings on her armour betrayed who she was - or rather, who she had been. The owl was the spirit animal of Clan Kryze, just the same as Clan Amun... perhaps there was some poetry in that.​

​

"If there is anything you wish to ask, ner'ad, then ask away", assured the Ersansyr warmly, her helmet kept under her arm as the two of them walked through the ship's wide corridors, the occasional warrior passing them by giving their Alor a nod, if not a warrior's salute by bringing their closed fist against their heart. Eventually, they reached a small lounging area, where some of the clanless ones Jenn had convinced to join her conversed with her people. Many were the gazes sent their way: but those who lingered on Varys for too long found the glacial stare of her mother reminding them of their place.​

​

"I know all around you are clad in beskar, and you are not - but, fret not, Varys. I am no Forgemistress, but a smith I remain, and I have more than enough experience to make a suit of beskar'gam worthy of you", promised the Alor as she sat down onto a small, if comfortable seat, inviting Varys to do the same with a gesture of her hand.​

​

Varys Amun ​

 

[Varys Amun]

At the Alor's command, the craft rose into the air and soared away from Dantooine. As it did Varys' spirits began to lift. She had never travelled off-planet before, and the view past the pilot, Karrys, out the cockpit was enough to keep Varys distracted from her heavy thoughts. The dark night sky grew darker still, revealing a true blackness once the gunship breached the atmosphere. Varys shivered, suddenly aware of the cold death that surrounded her. The ship shuddered disconcertingly, but Jenn seemed unperturbed, so Varys did her best to ignore it, focusing instead on the grey dot ahead which grew quickly into the sleek shape of a Mandalorian frigate. Varys grinned. This was more like it.

They touched down and Varys' enthusiasm had not faded. This was the largest ship she had ever set foot in. Bigger by far than the cargo transports that sometimes landed in the fields near the Amun springtime camp. It even had its own hangar, not just a fighter bay or docking arm. Once they were aboard, she felt the lurch of the frigates engines firing up to bring Varys to her new home.

It was only when Varys descended the gangway that her good mood was extinguished. A smattering of Vode were spread through the hanger, and their gazes lingered not on their Alor, but on Varys. It did not take a genius to imagine what they were thinking. Varys's cheeks burned, but she kept her head up and walked evenly behind Jenn.

"If there is anything you wish to ask, ner'ad, then ask away"

Varys had a million things, but at that moment, all she could think about were the many pairs of eyes boring holes into the back of her skull. The whispered words- An Amun? A traitor girl? What is the Alor thinking?

Finally, they passed through a blast door and entered into a quiet corridor. Varys felt the tension release from her neck and shoulders. What if it was always like this, what if this was the life she had signed up for?

As they walked they passed more warriors. Varys gave her best impression of a shadow, following the Alor closely and quietly. They came to a common area filled with another gaggle of Mando'ade. Again, all eyes turned to her. Suddenly Varys felt a bit ill.

"I know all around you are clad in beskar, and you are not - but, fret not, Varys. I am no Forgemistress, but a smith I remain, and I have more than enough experience to make a suit of beskar'gam worthy of you"

Varys felt herself nodding, but it was like she was observing from outside her body. She gave a robotic response.

"If you think I deserve it, Alor, it would be a privilege."

That wasn't quite right. Wasn't she supposed to be excited? It was karking beskar'gam! Varys had never even touched her family's sets, and yet Jenn had just offered to make Varys her very own. And yet, Varys felt nothing but dread. She could feel her heart beating in her ears. It was like her blood was boiling.

"Gar skotah parer. I'll just be a moment" Varys paced quickly to a bathroom on the opposite wall without a further word, locking the door behind her.

Varys sat on the cold metal floor, back to the door, hugging her knees. She forced herself to slow her breathing, push the ugly thoughts back, slide right past them. Varys had bigger things to worry about right now, like not embarrassing herself in front of a ship full of mando'ade who already thought her a traitor.

Varys took off her helmet. Normally, it fit her like a second skin, but at that moment it was suffocating. She got up and crossed to the basin. Varys' stared at her reflection. Her face was grimy, crusted with sweat and tears, her hair lank and greasy. A dark bruise curved the length of her orbit, made by the inside of her helmet when Lyka had struck her. She splashed water on her face and groaned in frustration.

"Sorry, Buir." said Varys, slipping back out the door, her helmet still in her hand. As much as she hated being seen without it, she had been entirely unable to put it back on.

"I'm alright now." Her words were quiet, but she knew those closest to her in the sitting room would still be able to hear, and that was agony. "Maybe we can go somewhere more quiet?"

Jenn Kryze ​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Enduring Flame
| Objective | Comfort Varys

Varys' discomfort was not lost on Jenn. How to address it, however, was a particularly delicate subject for anyone to approach, and Lyka's words echoed in her ears when she found her daughter's words betraying the truth of her situation. Her offer to forge a suit of beskar'gam for her child was uncharacteristically lacking in... life. Reaching out through the Manda, Jenn ignored the echoes all around her, focused on the amalgam of thoughts, emotions, and dreams before her- and found a presence that spoke only of fear, unease, dread. Before she could say anything, the Alor watched as Varys excused herself to head for the bathroom, giving her but a gentle nod, before her gaze went down to look at her helmet. Keeping it removed was... still difficult. Although she was surrounded by vode, many of them belonging to her own Clan, the many years spent following the Way of the Mandalore held true in their sway over her.

The Ersansyr was still pondering how to handle it all when Varys returned to her... with her helmet held in her hands, almost clutched protectively. For the first time since their initial meeting, they were well and truly face to face, and Jenn hardly needed her Force Sense now. For a moment, no words escaped her lips, the Alor seeming to seek to burn the very sight of her daughter into her mind - only to realize just how uncomfortable she was, standing up quickly to close the distance between them. "Of course, ad'ika. Whatever you desire."

And with that, she offered the young warrior her hand, if she wished to hold it - merely retracting it otherwise. And with that, she left the sitting room with her daughter, bringing her over to the more private setting that was one of the ship's individual rooms - one she locked behind them, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to her.

"What's wrong, ner'ad?" asked the Alor softly, her heart still warmed by the simple act of being called buir. "You can tell me anything, Varys."

​

Varys Amun ​