A P E X
A line had to be drawn in the sand.
The ancestral dunes of Mandalore had been claimed again. Joy, for the first time since the Calamity, rippled through the populous. Although there was much death and much to rebuild, nothing warmed the heart more than finally returning home. Yet, with this return, things had changed. The era of the Clans had ended: long-standing bonds were weak or broken. The vast territory of the Mandalorian people was reduced to Colonies scattered about the stars. And so, with the heart of their people reclaimed, it was time to put old bonds to the test.
A Bonfire raged.
Under a starlit sky did the inferno burn. Behind it stood a man who had been devoured by the Calamity. As a man, he lived to see his people united...he lived to try and do the right thing. And now, as Warmaster once more, his duty was to the his King. Mand'alor. This day, the burden of testing the bonds of old fell upon his shoulders. As the flames danced before him, two banners swayed in the nighttime breeze. The first was a simple field of white, emblazoned by a skull. The Mighty Mythosaur: symbol of the Mandalorian people. Symbol of the Mand'alor [member="Vilaz Munin"] and his rule.
The second was similar: a field of gray emblazoned with the skull of a Ram. This was the simple of the Warmaster's own kin - House Verd - and its placement was a testament of what would transpire this night. A call had been made: a summons across the airwaves and Hyperspace to all who called themselves Mandalorian. This call requested their presence upon this hallowed ground to make a choice: to fly their banner beside that of the Sole Ruler...or cast it into the fire. To do the former meant to stand beside their King: to fully acknowledge his rule, his authority, and Call.
But to do the latter was to part ways with Mandalore. If ones banner was consumed in the flame, so too was their place among the Mandalorians. These would deny his rule and authority. These would be too proud to bend knee to their King. These would Dar'manda...and for the night alone would they be free to leave Mandalore in peace. No hunt would follow them, nor threat of war or annihilation. But rather, an exile lasting ever more.
And so the Clans were called. And so the Houses were called. All who were kin and Mandalorian were beckoned to make their choice. The line had been drawn in the sands of Mandalore, and this night would see on which side the Clans would stand.
The ancestral dunes of Mandalore had been claimed again. Joy, for the first time since the Calamity, rippled through the populous. Although there was much death and much to rebuild, nothing warmed the heart more than finally returning home. Yet, with this return, things had changed. The era of the Clans had ended: long-standing bonds were weak or broken. The vast territory of the Mandalorian people was reduced to Colonies scattered about the stars. And so, with the heart of their people reclaimed, it was time to put old bonds to the test.
A Bonfire raged.
Under a starlit sky did the inferno burn. Behind it stood a man who had been devoured by the Calamity. As a man, he lived to see his people united...he lived to try and do the right thing. And now, as Warmaster once more, his duty was to the his King. Mand'alor. This day, the burden of testing the bonds of old fell upon his shoulders. As the flames danced before him, two banners swayed in the nighttime breeze. The first was a simple field of white, emblazoned by a skull. The Mighty Mythosaur: symbol of the Mandalorian people. Symbol of the Mand'alor [member="Vilaz Munin"] and his rule.
The second was similar: a field of gray emblazoned with the skull of a Ram. This was the simple of the Warmaster's own kin - House Verd - and its placement was a testament of what would transpire this night. A call had been made: a summons across the airwaves and Hyperspace to all who called themselves Mandalorian. This call requested their presence upon this hallowed ground to make a choice: to fly their banner beside that of the Sole Ruler...or cast it into the fire. To do the former meant to stand beside their King: to fully acknowledge his rule, his authority, and Call.
But to do the latter was to part ways with Mandalore. If ones banner was consumed in the flame, so too was their place among the Mandalorians. These would deny his rule and authority. These would be too proud to bend knee to their King. These would Dar'manda...and for the night alone would they be free to leave Mandalore in peace. No hunt would follow them, nor threat of war or annihilation. But rather, an exile lasting ever more.
And so the Clans were called. And so the Houses were called. All who were kin and Mandalorian were beckoned to make their choice. The line had been drawn in the sands of Mandalore, and this night would see on which side the Clans would stand.
[member="Captain Larraq"], [member="Draco Vereen"], [member="Gilamar Skirata"], [member="Ardgal Raxis"], [member="Aedan Miles"], @Alec Rekali, [member="Kad Tor"], [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] @Any Alor or Mandalorian Family I have missed.
((OOC - Those Houses/Clans/Alors/Etc who support and acknowledge the rule of our reigning Mand'alor, cement your support by planting your banner beside his. Those who do not, cast your banner into the fire. The line in the sand is drawn here.))
