The Future is Mandalorian (open to all Mandos)

[Jorga the Hutt]

You are invited to a discussion on the future of the Mandalorian people.​

This has nothing to do with who leads us, and everything to do with what we can become.​

Technology, society, creation, ambition -- what does the Mandalorian future look like?​

Mandokarla, The Society, wants to hear your perspective.​

​

In the interests of staying on track, please leave all weapons at home, other than your armor.​

MANDALORIAN RUINS
DXUN - MOON OF ONDERON

An old stone amphitheater looked down on a central space where several people could speak to the crowd. There wasn't much domineering or majesty here, just a spot for equals to talk to equals. Connory adjusted his helmet and walked out onto the stage, looking up at the Mandos who'd shown up.

"Welcome to Dxun. I'm glad you could make it. I'm Rel Connory - I make things.

"The only thing our people love more than fighting is talking. We have deep feelings and strong opinions on life-and-death issues, and that's all fine. Our culture puts a healthy emphasis on free expression and robust debate. I'd ask that today we focus more on talking than fighting; that's why I've asked all of you to leave your weapons at home or on your ships. Not counting your armor, of course. And some of you have holocalled in to avoid violence, or worn anonymous armor, and that's all to the good: we're here to think and talk and share ideas, not get caught up in other things.

"I'm here because I believe the future is Mandalorian. Our culture has made more of an impact on the galaxy than virtually anyone. Our technology has been at the cutting edge for decades -- Mandal Hypernautics, MandalTech, MandalMotors, Kryze, Raxis -- the list goes on. Our core values give us a competitive advantage, and I believe they can benefit the galaxy.

"I'm going to step down now. You can come up here, or stay in your seats, just tell us: how bright is our future, how far can we go, and why? Maybe you want to talk possibilities, maybe you want to demonstrate the newest technology, maybe you've got ambitious plans you want to sell us on. That's all up to you. Welcome to Mandokarla."

[member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Talia Fett"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Cynthia Solus"] [member="Jak Cadera"] [member="Gray Raxis"] [member="Njiod Shysa"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Tolth Corday"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

Shia honestly didn't know if she believed the invitation, but it rang too strongly with exactly what she'd fought for to turn it down. So here she was, unarmed, the inbuilt hard points on her armour peace-locked with obvious seals.

And praise be to the Old Gods (not that they existed, but it was a nice thought) maybe something good might come of this. She glanced around, looking at the gathered figures, then shrugged and stood up to walk to the stage.

"We Mando'ade know a thing or two about taking planets apart - it's something we've experienced a few times, and something we've dealt out often enough. But from that lesson comes a better one - how to put them back together. This is a galaxy of chaos and war - a war we don't always have a stake in, a war we're trying to survive, or a war we brought. It doesn't really matter - after every war, we have to clean up. People. Ships. Beskargam. Planets."

She raised a hand, as if to hold a planet - in a fancier setting, there might have been holographs to accompany her speech.

"My name is Shia Kryze - some of you know me, some of you hate me - but I'm here to tell you that our future is bright, because we can give our families - and everyones families - places to live that are safe, free from radiation, from bombardment fallout. We can ensure the scars of destruction are wiped from our worlds, and from other worlds. That won't be easy - it's a lot more work to build up than to tear down. But we thrive on challenges. So if you're interested - come talk to me."

She paused for a moment, an odd pause, as if she wanted to say more. Then she stepped down from the stage and walked calmly back to her seat.

 

[Kista Bralor]

Kista rarely found herself very far from Mandalore. There was just little appeal before. She had not left even when most of the planet was a volcanic waste land.
So it left Kista with an odd feeling to be off the homeward, even here on Dxun.

The last time she was here was when she was a small child. The Alor of Clan Bralor had the main Clan compound here on Dxun. As she sat there listening to [member="Shia Kryze"] her memories of Dxun felt so distant it felt like another life.

So far she was only here to listen. She did not know if she had anything to say that might be inspirational.

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

The gathering started strong. Connory found himself drawn in by Clan Kryze's ideas. Their reputation for reclamation and terraforming stood out and brought back memories. A long time ago, during the height of the One Sith, he'd redirected water-bearing comets to sow the seeds of life on a rock in the Deep Core. Modeling and implementing that project had challenged him in meaningful ways at a time when he'd needed meaning desperately. He made a note to connect with Kryze and try his hand at environmental reclamation technology. No doubt they'd put it to use.

The scope and scale of Kryze's thoughts provoked a flurry of quiet discussion through the bleachers, where Connory had taken a seat. Far as Connory was concerned, that was pretty much ideal.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Connory"] | [member="Kista Bralor "]| [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Shia Kryze"]

Koda and him were the odd men out here.

They didn't build, didn't nurture.

Kill, be killed, blood and ash, that is all they knew and all they would ever know. Except- he had a daughter, no? [member="Tamara Wren"] was still recovering from her time in the Netherworld and who knew if she would ever be the same person she had been. Point was... killing was fine and all, but at some point you needed to look at the future. What were you leaving your kids.

If anything.

Ronan didn't have the answers to that, might never have 'em. He still walked up to that stage after Kryze, settling in front of it. Watching them all for a bit. Then to Koda for a moment.

"Connory told me about this meeting- asked me not to try and kill anyone an' keep an open mind. So." He shrugged. "I won't try to kill anyone today." Was as much as one could hope from someone like Vizsla. Talking to a wall that one. "Vizsla has ships, mining rights. We aren't builders. Suppose we can help others build something worthwhile though."

Never been much of a talker either, so with that piece done he stepped off and settled himself back in the back next to Koda.

"Don't look at me like that." Ronan mumbled to Koda, while watching the next one stepping up.

 

[Koda Fett]

It seemed as if that's where the two men differentiated. Vizsla, at the end of the day, had a family to return to, or so he would in time. Someone to protect, and someone to nurture. Perhaps all of his actions, no matter how controversial can be justified by the simple act to protect. A Father's instincts. Meanwhile, Fett was nothing more than a mere Bounty Hunter. A time ago, a long time ago now, he tried to be the family man he was needed to be. Safe to say that it never worked out. First turning to rust, and then to dust. Lost to time.

The Mandalorian was brought up with the sole purpose to fight in a war, and one that he never believed in. You'd have to forgive him for being so prone to the act of violence, never truly being one for many words if any. An act he displayed right now in this very moment as he stand at the back of the amphitheatre, his arms folded over his chest and an eye on Ronan, another elsewhere. Fett never really could trust anyone, and that made it hard to leave his Carbine on the Spear II.

As Vizsla rejoined Fett, the latter's helmeted head pivoted to face the man. "Articulate." He antagonised in a low voice between the two.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Connory"] | [member="Kista Bralor "]| [member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

"We won't build anything without killing or hurting a lot of people, when has the galaxy ever let any one of us ever do that?"

Shia's response to Ronan wasn't loud enough to interrupt, but carried far enough to be heard.

"Everything we do is built on struggle, it's who we are. I think that's more than enough."

[member="Koda Fett"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"] @Connory @Kista Bralor

 

[Julius Sedaire]

There were many powerful and big names here, and the large Mando'ad sat quietly on his rock munching a bit of hard-bread a local woman had given him. It was pleasant enough, herbs and dried berries and nuts baked into it giving it what the dough would lack out of necessity. They talked of building, of mining, of war and killing, but as was often the case with the famed ones of his people, they had risen so high they forgot their beginnings. Grunting, he stood. He was armored, though the plate was fairly simplistic and bare metal, a deep bronze beskar with minimal orientation. With a shift of hands the rough-spun hood of his traveling cloak came down, and he took the place occupied by others, something clenched in his hands.

"You cannot war without a base to return to when the battle is done. Nor do you fight without a purpose, without a fire in the hearth. We have become so wrapped up in this or that ancient insult or new scheme, we forget what we came from, and to where we will return. The how of that doing is for debate, but we must look to and for ourselves first. To our families. If we do not there will be no future generations. Or what is to follow will be unrecognizable"

For a moment, mirth crossed his eyes, and he shook his head at his own words. His mothers doing, the wisdom. His father would like Vizsla, and would like what he said next even more.

"Philosophy aside? All of you I see here could use a season in the fields in some backwater holding of our people to remember the core of our souls. And I hope my words urge you to remember yourselves as you were before the grand deeds and large bank accounts. We might have a chance, then. Maybe."

Striding off the stage, as it were, the big man took a seat, munching on his bread again. Where he stood was simply a handful or black loamy soil. The kind farmers prized. A quiet, but strong statement in and of itself. There was nothing further from him. And he didn't bother to explain his words in depth. They would understand, or they would not. What he could do had been done and now he would watch.

[member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Connory"] | [member="Kista Bralor"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Connory"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Kista Bralor "]| [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Koda Fett"] ​

Clad in her distinctive black and gold armor, while the Alor of Clan Shysa sat only a few steps above her supposed allies, not once gaze did she allow her gaze to shift in Fett and Vizsla's direction. Still seething from their perceived abandonment of her and her troops during the conflict at the Wheel, placing strain on the already tenuous alliance the clans had shared since the Red Coronation. As a clan that notoriously valued the weight of one's word above all else, such a sleight was not easily forgotten nor forgiven any time soon.

But today was not about that. Today was about rebuilding something that had been fractured and broken for the longest time, perhaps even before the exiles had begun to be passed around, long before both incarnations of the Mandalorian Empire had taken root and risen to power. Perhaps it was never whole in the first place.

"I am Entye, Alor of Clan Shysa." The woman stated simply and without fanfare when there was a pause, lacking the eloquence or disposition to do much else in the wake of her clansman, [member="Njiod Shysa"]. "My clan has always been a small, yet hardy one. Farmers for the most part, except when necessity calls. Which as of late has been more often than not. That so called struggle, as you put it, is something we're all too familiar with."

She gave an amored approximation of a shrug.

"We have little to spare since we left our holdings the Empire's space behind us, but what what we do have is freely offered to those that willing to do the same. Shysa always answers the call. Of the people, if not the apparent Mand'alor. As Njiod stated, we strive not to forget where we came from."

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

[member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Njiod Shysa"]

"Strong points from the Shysa clan," Connory said. "I'll freely admit I've spent too much of my life wrapped up in success and innovation for its own sake, and too little time thinking about the reason, the goal. If I'd spent more time on my family, maybe my wife wouldn't have torched Manda'yaim and led a civil war. Maybe that gives her too little credit, but I can't help but feel my priorities made things worse. The Shysas are right: everything we invent and aspire toward and, yes, take by force should be consecrated for the benefit of the Mandalorian people, either symbolically or in real ways. Clan Kryze's terraforming work is a solid example, and so is Clan Vizsla's.

"I'm proposing we consider that a guiding principle for this meeting. What we envision and create together should prioritize the needs of our people - families, clans, all Mandalorians together. I think most or all of us would agree with that.

"Would anyone like to speak to those needs? Physical needs, ideally: this isn't the venue to talk about politics or different versions of Mandalorian identity."

 

[Shia Kryze]

Shia glanced around for a moment, then stood up - no point in taking the stage now.

"The same as it's always been - shelter, food and protection at it's most basic, then family."

She shrugged.

"The way I see it we're all fighting for that, in a galaxy that seems damned determined to take it from anyone. We can make that many ways - governments, bounty hunting - they're all means to protect our families, then to educate our families."

She paused, almost as if thinking how to phrase her words.

"Self defence is something we're all called to, so is our language - education - and our culture. We should create space for that - regardless of political alliance, neutral ground all will honour, where we can all trade - be that knowledge, skills or simply credits. Where we can address - what did you say, Connory? Oh yes, different versions of Mandalorian identity - where we can address those without endangering the whole or exposing them to the whole galaxy."

She smiled slightly, very much self-deprecating as the words leapt to her mind.

"An Empire can be destroyed - I think we've all seen that several times - but the concept of a meeting place, or places? A lot harder. Particularly if we arm them to the teeth."

[member="Connory"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Njiod Shysa"]

 

[Don Cagliostro]

Standing up from his seat in the back, the cyborg Mandalorian walked down to the stage. No one here probably knew the relatively obscure individual and of his clan. Since they left way back when. However, when he heard of a peaceful gathering of Mandalorians and talk and be civil, he wouldn't just pass up that opportunity.

As the faceless Mandalorian got up on the stage finally he would begin to speak. His voice uncanny, not inhuman, but certainly artificial. "Hello, I'm Roy of clan Americus. I understand that some of you might think of us as traitors, cowards, or just Force Sensitive scum. But I've come here today because I have faith in the Mandalorian people, I have faith in you all." He said, putting his trust in them. "Like what [member="Entye Shysa"] said about her clan, ours isn't very big, some of you might not know of it. But we exist." The Roy paused for a moment. "Sorry ya'll I'm rambling. You see I wasn't born into a clan, I was adopted much later on in a very hard time in my life. And that's what I want to get across. I believe based on my experience, and I understand you might not be the same way, but I believe that we can do great things. Like with me, we can pull people from the shadows and bring them into our culture. Which I have reason to think is our greatest weapon."

That's really what he wanted to get off his chest. "Now I'm not saying for us to lower our guns and abandon them. I just wanted to highlight that not all of our problems can be solved with a blaster. Anyways, that's really all I wanted to to say today. I wish to here ya'lls ideas the rest of this meeting. Thank you." And like that Roy got off the stage, hoping he got his point across.

[member="Shia Kryze"]
[member="Connory"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

"Heh, this is my first time on solid land in some months...And I'm getting on in age so I'm sorry if I ramble," an older, gruff voice. Old age, a civil war, and a Mandalorian power he did not quite understand or trust had made Gilamar quite paranoid when entering Mandalorian gatherings. He had led forces against the Mandalorian Empire and feared not for his life but for those that he saved and so he wore very generic armor and wore a helmet over his head, though his grandfatherly, warm voice would have been familiar to many.

"I've been watching the Mandalorian Empire," scolding Grandpa voice activated, "And I'm not proud of who and what we've become," a few murmurs from the crowd told him he needed to get off the stage if he was going to talk politics. Back to normal Grandpa.

"BUT. The work they have put in to fixing our world...Keldabe may be different. Krostport might be different and they've put some strange sun eating forge above our home, but the every day life on Mandalore is the best its been in nearly half a decade." His eyes scanned the crowd behind the T-shaped visor.

"Many of us fought in the Civil War, we fought as we do...Took lives as we do...Leaving many of our children without clan and without home. They have owned what they did and given them homes. They've rebuilt our cities and towns...I have not been on solid ground in months, Mand'yaim even longer still. But today is the day I say I will visit home." He nodded to Conory. If there was a single Mandalorian alive that he could trust to handle a meeting like this, it was him. The old Mandalorian removed his helmet and revealed his face.

"Hopefully it is not a mistake, but as far as providing and fixing what we've done over the last several years, whatever your politics are...They are fixing our home. Maybe we should stop running about blasting each other with words and blasters and try..." He took a breath, "Try our hand at tilling our home again and put petty squabbles behind us. Our disagreements don't need to lead us to another Civil War. I'm getting to tired and too damn old to fight these anymore."

[member="Roy Americus"] [member="Shia Kryze"] @Connory @Entye Shysa [member="Njiod Shysa"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Cato Fett]

Surrendering his fighting swords to foreign custody, even Mando’ade vetted to Connory’s trust, was unthinkable. The moot’s unspoken but tacit agreement to spare open arms amid their own company could not be disrespected, however. Cato relegated himself to a higher knoll west of the slate and aged granite amphitheatre seats, sat beneath a bright cottonwood copse heavy with fuzzy seedling pods tossing and batting with the Dxun breeze. Rose-ash, Asahi tobacco, curled their aromatics with the wind, Cato smoking from a long brass-capped pipe lacquered to a glisten and painted with the flying likeness of scrolls. Tea cooled nearby, balanced in a ceramic cup on his knee.

He’d taken to rough sketching; thin charcoal sticks on brown parchment, drawing out the amphitheatre half-circle and the rowed armoured shoulders hunched forward. There was Connory and Entye, Shia and Kista, Nijod and Koda, and… Cato’s pencil paused beside Ronan’s profile. His belly churned when Vizsla took centre stage. Thin promises, no unnecessary blood-letting, that proud Vizsla martial tradition tinged with ever-so-commonplace predatory arrogance. Habitual posturing. Contempt swam like fire and bile in the well of his throat. He’d not forgotten older stories of older scions, Tor and Pre, long before Ra had ever crawled sneering out of the feral coyote that deigned to spawn him. Cato paused then, and buried wrath and brooding away. At once aware and shamed he was patterning after bad habits he swore would carry their people to a premature cultural grave.

Resol’nare, Tao, honour, and the future. Nothing else. Cato emptied into Nothingness until thought and feeling recoalesced. Finished getting the line to Ronan’s chin just so, watching for the next speaker. For himself, survival resided in the Resol’nare itself. Adaption, modification, reconciliation. They weren’t above appropriating habits and custom from other cultures as they saw fit, not centuries prior. Sinister forces were at work trying to cement their tenets into something unalterable. Unchangeable. Guidelines as iron code. His mind flashed Imperial colours and the churn returned to his belly. Sketched more furiously for it, until the charcoal stick snapped against his knuckles.

The old slug-round wound taken for Mia Monroe ached in his sternum. Another figure took the stage.

[member="Connory"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Kista Bralor "][member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Njiod Shysa"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Roy Americus"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Jaster was informed about this meeting through his usual sources. Kaine got drunk and spilled the beans about a friend in "Mandalorian Intelligence", he couldn't help but smile at the idea of Mandalorians being stealthy.

He decided to leave the armor at home, being that the shoulder rockets didn't detached as he hoped. Wearing a Red and Black suite that was the colors of his Clan, Clan Awaud. He was bent over looking at the soil that Njiod Shysa was now at. His father was a farmer, and grandfather was a rancher, he could agree this was top grade soil. Taking hand into the soil and squishing it between his hands it was very moist, though not drowned in fluid. It indicated there was an underground water flow from the ancient families that lived here, looking at the green around him he could tell his ancestors built these things to last. Ancient Mandalorians truely were the pinical of their heritage, much better then those who live now.

Realizing he was interrupting [member="Njiod Shysa"] he looked up, "Apologies, I did not mean to interrupt, just reminded me of some land near my family farm before the Civil War, I should be going."

He walked over to the stage and bowed his head, "Afternoon, I am Jaster Awaud, Alor of Clan Awaud and Viceroy of the United Trade Conglomerate," He pulled out a Holo-Disk and dropped it on the floor, from there a holographic form of a Ravager appeared. "My company mostly deals with trade and transportation of goods as well as weapons and modifications for starships, recently with our collaboration with the Yuuzhan Vong we have delved into Bio-Technology, using advanced genetic reassignment and Vong Bioforming, we are nearing a virus that can effect Sith Spawn and cut their connection to their Force Overlords and making them easier to domesticate them into beast of war," he pulled out a small bit of jerky to prove a point, "or into livestock,"

He then put the meat away and snapped his fingers for the image to fade away. "Our Techniques are still a work in progress but with combined information and conquest of genetic and biological transformations, not only would the Mandalorian people be able to reform and rebuild, but one could recreate and mold a planet to ones very own needs, the UTC looks to create, build, and forge a future outside of war and conflict, and once we get these past testing phase, we would be willing to share it with all Mandalorians."

[member="Connory"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Kista Bralor "]| [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Entye Shysa"]

 

[Mishka Larraq]

Mishka, for some odd reason, had been invited to a symposium of sorts. Some sort of open discussion on the Mando'ade identity. The culture, technology, and galactic role of those who follow the Manda, and the direction their culture and technology will follow into the future. It wasn't really Mishka's thing, and she was fairly sure she wouldn't have anything to contribute to the discussion. But her interest was piqued when she noted that the location chosen for the discussion had not been upon the surface of Manda'yaim, nor was it anywhere within the territory controlled by the current 'Empress' of the Mando'ade. Which implied that the people organizing it had some sort of philosophical objection to the 'Empress' and her servitude to the much larger Sith Empire.

​Mishka hadn't really known what to make of that. She wasn't fond of them either, but she ignored their actions and they ignored her. She and her family went about their lives on Manda'yaim the same as they had always done. They were thankful to the 'Empress' and the allies she had made for their efforts to terraform Manda'yaim back into something one would call habitable... But still found disgust in the chains of servitude she tried to place upon the Mando'ade. If others in the galaxy found equal disdain in the direction that woman attempted to drag the Mando'ade, then Mishka at least wanted to hear what they had to say on the matter.

And so Mishka had arrived on Dxun on an ancient and battered Aka'jor shuttle. The poor thing was hundreds of years old at the least and not a bit of the original machine remained. Mishka wasn't even sure who the thing had originally belonged to. All she knew was that her grandfather's grandfather had owned it and it had been torn apart, repaired, and rebuilt more times than anyone could count. And each time, it was done by hand with parts hand-forged by one family or another that resided on the Larraq Homestead... It, and her guns and blades, sat resting in a small clearing not horribly far away. As did several other small shuttles.

Mishka, and a small traveling bag with rolling wheels and an extendable handle, sat towards the back of the small, open air amphitheater. The hem of her blue dress rippled in the slight breeze as she listened to the speakers with rapt attention. She sat poised, with knees together and legs crossed at the ankles, her back in perfect posture. Her hands rested in her lap, cradling a still hot mug of Ankarras tea that she occasionally sipped from. People stood, spoke, and sat again. Words were said about war, the aversion of war, and a mistrust in the current direction most Mando'ade were being taken. It was suggested that some spend time on their farms, with their families, and Mishka had to suppress a smile. All she did was stay on her family's farm. At least when she wasn't running some errand or another. A man spoke of being adopted into a clan, and of bringing more people into the light of the Manda. Mishka liked that. It had been a long time since House Larraq had adopted an outsider. Clan Dem'adas did it all the time... but then they needed warm bodies to crew their ships. And... they had largely disappeared lately. Mishka wasn't sure where they had gone or why... but she did miss her sister quite a bit.

But then the one-time Mand'alor took to the stage and Mishka was enraptured by the man. She had heard stories about his brief crusade to Empress Teta and his duel with the traitor Ordo. As she listened to the man speak, Mishka absently wondered if the current Empress would have even considered Ordo a traitor. Or if she would have had the courage to face him alone. At the time, Ordo had been quite renowned for his fighting prowess... But the old man spoke of growing tired of war, as all old men did. He spoke of appreciation for the work the Empress and her people were doing to restore the homeworld of the Mando'ade. And though he spoke of a certain disdain for who the Mando'ade were becoming under the guidance of the Empress... he too advised that Mando'ade return to their homes. He also spoke of civil war... the one behind us, and any that could come in the future.

Mishka sipped her tea and tried to ponder the old Mand'alor's words.

The next speaker though... Reminded Mishka of her brother. He was doing some sort of bio-engineering project... tinkering with Yuuzhan Vong war beasts and symbiots. Her brother had done that once... Made living spaceships. Mesen'loras. Mishka had visited the test facility on Ord Cestus once. Played with the starfighter sized pups and listened to the songs of their Lygria mother as she swam in the lake. Absently, Mishka wondered if the Lygria was still swimming in that lake as she sipped at her tea and enjoyed a few bitter-sweet memories of her brother as she waited for the next speaker.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He sat near the back, far from the center of attention. Alkor sat his buy'ce in his lap and nursed a cup of Corellian whiskey with a vacant gaze. They wanted to talk about how to advance the Mandalorian people, not any one political faction, and finally he found something that interested him. Ideas shot across the forum, constructive and positive, and he sighed contentedly. Their people were meant to be a massive family and even if they disagreed, this was proof that they could rise above that and work together to cultivate growth.

War could only destroy, and while war was something they were good at, they were supposed to use it as a tool; as a means to an end, not the end itself. Ancient Crusaders worshipped the god Kad Ha'rangir, the destroyer- a deity who asked for them to wipe away the old, stagnant things to make way for the new. It was a proto-philosphy, but there was some merit to it.

Now, they still fought to make a living, both at home and on foreign frontiers. Alkor had some ideas on that, though he remained silent and patient as the others passionately- or in some cases, reticently- about how they could contribute, how they wanted to help, and their own visions for the future.

He took another sip as the last idea resounded, and his cerulean gaze lit up. A placid expression took his face as he stood up and raised his voice. "Mando'ade have long been warriors, proud and fierce, and that holds true no matter where you stand among our people, no matter what your ideas are."

He crouched low and placed his cup on his seat, then took a few steps toward where [member="Connory"] stood on stage, bringing himself closer to everyone so they could hear him. He had no intention of grabbing the spotlight for himself, he simply wanted the idea to fill the room.

"I love the idea of Mandalorians fighting," he said in earnest, "but we need to be fighting the Galaxy's wars, not our own. Why put our own things at risk, and put Manda'yaim at risk again? She's been good to us, so we should be good to her in return."

Alkor ran a hand through his hair and his eyes swept across the ground. "What I'm getting at is, we should bring back the Mercenary and Bounty Hunter culture that helped us thrive under Fett. People want to kill, put that bloodlust to work and water the dying land back home with your earnings. People want to farm, build, or create, we can do that just as well."

He let his hand fall to the side and sighed again. "The important thing is that we do it all as one people. As a family. As Mando'ade. We have one heart. One soul. We should all be fighting for the same thing."

He looked around for a moment, then turned back to his helmet and found his seat again. "That's all I've got."

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Kaine Australis"] @Others?

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

Connory stepped up again in a natural lull.

"Before we keep going, I want to point out that you being here, all of you, all of us, is a victory for the Mandalorians as a whole. I think we represent every range of opinion and calling and allegiance here, but we care deeply about the future of our people. Whatever else comes of this meeting, or doesn't, what we've seen tonight is pure evolution.

"New question for all of you. Mister Centaris has raised what I'd consider a powerful idea: how much our people stand to gain at the ground level if we focus outward, promote mercenary and bounty work, and capitalize on our skills and technological edge. I'd like to hear your ideas around that."

[member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Kista Bralor "][member="Mishka Larraq"] [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Talia Fett"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Roy Americus"] [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Njiod Shysa"] @apologies if I missed you

 

[Koda Fett]

Fett and Vizsla resided at the back, standing and grumbling quietly between one another. Neither were progressive, more akin to traditionalists. And, in fairness, the two would rather see the Mandalorian Empire burn to the ground before working alongside it- or so was the case for the Bounty Hunter. However, this wasn't the time for it. This was a time for change, to potentially heal old wounds and cast such grievances aside. Unfortunately, that just wasn't going to happen. Too much blood had been spilled, and stubborn minds clashed.

The latest suggestion, however? It was safe to say that Fett was an expert on being a bounty hunter, and performing mercenary work. It was his profession, after all. It even crossed his mind to suggest such a thing, but ultimately remained quiet. Whilst he wasn't exactly thrilled to have an influx of others in his line of work, he knew that he was safe. He was the best for a reason.

As he stood at the back with his arms folded over his armoured chest, even still. He thought to speak, if but for a moment. The act was exhausting, and he was only to add fluff to words that spoke true enough. Maybe it was just his mind that ran rampant with memories, drawing in from experiences. It sure was a prosperous profession, Fett could guarantee that much. His contacts surely weren't going to come to their attention, though. And if they stepped on his toes? Well, they better not step on his toes.

[member="Shia Kryze"]| [member="Kista Bralor "]| [member="Mishka Larraq"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Cato Fett"] | [member="Talia Fett"] | [member="Gilamar Skirata"] | [member="Roy Americus"] | [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] | [member="Entye Shysa"] | [member="Njiod Shysa"] | [member="Connory"]

 

[Unknown]

It seemed lately the Mandalorians were gathering and causing stirs where ever they went. She heard of another meeting and it had caused quite the uproar. This entire thing reminded her of the starts of the Mandalorian Civil War. A hand ran across her face as she watched, Connory was a smart man. Stories about the man traveled through the vast regions of space – reaching out even to the young warden.

Listening to the other Mandalorians, she nodded and gathered the feel of the group. She hadn’t experienced the others, the ones that followed Yasha through everything. Fingers curled resting against her lips as she continued to listen. Compared to them she was young and absent for most of the things that they had suffered through. Possibly it was because of her Guardian protecting her, or it was because she wasn’t ready to face what was going on. Either way, after Gilamar Skirata spoke, she felt inspired.

The man, like the others had a name for himself. Seri felt even more like a nobody as she realized how much she had missed. Everything became a memorized word and she forever feel changed by his words. Gilamar was right, despite the war and the outcome, the Empire had shifted and rebuilt. Sighing softly, she had never seen home, only knowing where the Rekali resided as home.

No one wanted a war and it was time they united once again.

The young Mandalorian remained silent for the moment, she wanted to formulate her own thoughts and conclude to something the others would accept. The last thing she needed was to embarrass Ember Rekali with her childish words.

[member="Koda Fett"] [member="Connory"] [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Mishka Larraq"] [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Roy Americus"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Njiod Shysa"] [member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Kista Bralor"]