The Line Part Two: Challenge for Mand'alor

[Ardasz Verd]

Darian watched the man take his weapon in hand, and a smile washed over his features. It was no the languid smile of a man who had found peace, but the wicked glee of a fanatic seized by bloodlust. His thumbnail clawed into the meat of his own cheek, drawing blood, allowing the viscera to cascade down his face and coat his body in profane warmth.

Blood offered up to the Destroyer before combat pleased Him. The gift of one's own flesh was a symbol of devotion not often kept in modern times. As his finger moved to the other side and drew another laceration, his eyes glassed over.

He licked his bloodied, cracked lips, his hunger now visible.

All praise, all prayer, and all curses went silent. The time for words had passed, and now the faithful would once more watch as the children of Manda bickered, the old ways against the new.

Gorehound flashed quickly from left to right, a surgical strike from outside the larger man's guard (on the right, as Darian was left-handed) to test its strength and in turn, his skill. It was not a powerful, bashing blow, but the weight behind it was still considerable. The Iron of their people was by no means light.

[member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"]

 

[Aedan Miles]

Aedan sighed as he watched his violet and crimson eyes bored before he finally spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear as he turned away from the whole group. "I thought I joined a people who were about war and tradition only to find a pup with a convoluted sense of it and someone who wishes to challenge the ruler for a decision he made for the people. Dem'adas you know I respect you but tell me would you have rather we stayed on Mandalore risking our people farther for the planet? Do you think our mother would want that? I feel as if she would want us to live and continue on in her will. The fact that the father wishes to bring us home to repair the mother should show you how much he cares. And you you ignorant pup learn to hold your tongue when surrounded by those that could end you with barely a thought there are countless instances of Mando'ade who use the force it is not against the Resol'nare to do so. Do you not remember the rhyme you are taught when you can barely walk that teachs us the six tenants. Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor, An vencuyan mhi. Education and armor, Educate the young in the ways of Mando'ade and wear the Beskar'gam for it is part of you. Ara'nov aliit, Self Defense defend yourself and your family from any who wish to harm you. Out tribe or our family family is a key tenant of the Resol'nare are you saying that if one of the members of our family is born with the force we should through them out? Mando'a and Mand'alor, Our Language and our leader speak the language and respect the leader when he calls. That is the code we follow for it binds is together as one. No where Alor Dem'adas does it mention the planet as much as it hurts me to say this. Nor pup does it mention the force in either manner. Where is your proof that using the force is against the Resol'nare if anyone has broken our sacred tenants it is you for not respecting the call of our leader. If you ask me the mother would be disappointed in us all because in my opinion the Alor of the youngest clan had to speak these words in hopes of those he respects and looks up to would listen to them and see the wisdom in them. Clan Dem'adas has done their sacred duty as they see it they stayed behind to protect our Mother while we gathered our scattered people in preparation to return. For that they should be honored not insulted as they have here. House Verd has assisted in the gathering of our people through the works of both Alor Verd and two FORCE users who are a member of that House. Alkor and Kiera both good people who fight for the betterment of our people. Clan Akaata has done the least yet here I stand praying that those who do the most will listen to the words of this Alor. If my words are not enough than let me say this. Stop this senseless in fighting and if it pleases the majority of those present I shall leave and command Clan Akaata to stay and assist as needed. Whatever it takes for us to come together as one for through the Father and Mother all Vod are family and I hate seeing my family fighting each other." Aedan Miles finally went silent his violet eyes filled with a mix of emotions hope, sadness, despair, and even rage but all of them directed not at any one person here but rather at everyone. Hope that they would listen to his words, sadness that it came to this, despair that they would wish for him to leave he didn't wish to abandon his family but whatever it took for them to come together, and anger that it had even come to this for the man known as the Pirate King to attempt and be the word of wisdom in such a meeting.

[member="Darian Beviin"] [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"] [member="Garith Darkhold"] [member="Cole Dagos"] [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] [member="Artemis Lux"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Atin Vendet]

Jekai twisted quickly to prepare for the attack from the left, as his opponent tucked right for a quicker strike. The man took note of the center of mass, which often broadcasted such things. He would no doubt be slower, and would not be able to meet the hatchet to counter it with his blade. Footwork mattered, and at this point in time his right was still back, and left forward slightly. Most people could barely accomplish two base motor movements through mechanical practice; where martial arts or active combat was concerned, and drill certainly had helped for it in that respect. A hatchet, or most weapons of hacking variety, took a decent sized swing to place down.

The truth was, he couldn't meet that swing blade for blade- but maybe he'd not have to. He felt the world, almost in slow motion, as he focused and pivoted not away with his right; It was too late for that, but INTO the swing. He intended to be chest to chest with the individual, his blade touching him lengthwise, so that the hatchet bend of the man's elbow might lose momentum around his body, rather than having the length and momentum to strike it connecting.

Unfortunately, the hatchet would excel at these close quarters if given time, far better than his sword could if the man would get the rebound. Jekai would place his right foot behind the heel of his enemy, at chest to chest level, and attempt to wrench his blade along his adversaries chest as it lay flat between them, to use the switch of balance and momentum to not only cut him, but to force him backwards towards the ground. This would be accomplished with a slight twist of the shoulders to procure the correct angle, and a left step into the hold to produce the off balance result.

His mind ran ahead with attempted moves. Perhaps the man would cut for his tendons, or his groin, or attempt to knick him as he fell backwards. Maybe he'd roll. Maybe he'd disengage to the side and out. Regardless of the result, on the ground, and on his back- for a brief moment, he may be able to use his greatsword's length to his advantage, with a potential step back. Perhaps this chain of events would be prevented all together. (Depending on post)

He was in the middle of a fight, and likely could not listen to whatever monologue [member="Aedan Miles"] had prepared, nor would he allow that to distract him. It could be easily inferred from past engagements he'd be all too willing to repeat himself and explain it again later.

[member="Darian Beviin"]

 

[Jagen Wren]

​

​

Beskar boots crunched against the ground, following by the sheath of a sword lightly tapping the floor, as another figure appeared out of the shadows and into the light of the massive bonfire that has been erected by the Mando'ade. The grizzled features of the mandalorian known as Jagen of Clan Wren would have firelight splash upon them, and they were not contorted into a smile, or a grin, or a smirk. A look that combined solemness with disgust and disappointment would dart between the current contenders in the feud.

"End this at once!" A heavy blaster pistol would shoot up into the air several times, the same way the contender had entered the area.

He was one of the last remaining Blades of Mandalore and most likely the only swordmaster of the Makashi form in the clans as a whole. "Lies! Treason! Ignorance! Is this truly how far the Mando'ade have fallen! Our home may be destroyed but our way of life remains unchanged! Bah akaanir te Mand'alor ti ijaat (To fight the sole ruler with honor) is a right that should be invoked for the good of the people, for the good of the Clans, for the good of Mandalore!" He roared, his voice cracking with sadness.

"A vod challenging the Mand'alor for nothing more than personal gain and a short-lived grudge?! An evaar'la ad'ika (New little one) spouting untruths about the Resol'nare?! Jaro!" The middle-aged man continued, grabbing the banner of Clan Wren and stabbing it into the ground close to that of the Mand'alor.

"The Galactic Alliance! The Dominion! The First Order! The Free Worlds Coalition! The Galactic Empire! These governments threaten us, they slaughter our people, burn our colonies, and we hesitate to lift a hand unless for monetary gain! But you have the energy to promote internal conflict!" Jagen cried "Disgraceful! If the Mandalorian culture that has survived for thousands of years is to survive! We must put aside our difference, put aside our grievences with each other, and we must fight the enemy until we can ensure that our children, and their children, see atleast one minute of peace!"

He stared at them, his demeanor unwavering.

"If you do not end this! Then the first strike made will be met with my flesh, my last sacrifice to Mandalore!"

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Darian Beviin"] | [member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Garith Darkhold"] | [member="Cole Dagos"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Ardasz Verd]

Of the possible movements his opponent might make, the man deigned to use one of the most astute. During his time as Battlemasfer for Clan Beviin, Darian had trained more than one aspirant in the martial arts, but few of them took to it with much enthusiasm. The armor allotted them defense that they preferred to utilize at range, with weapons that could shave away the life of an opponent with relatively no threat to their own.

It was, at least, good to know there were still Mandos who found merit in close combat, and knowing how to react in even the most dangerous of situations. The man stepped forward to square up with him and lock blades, effectively minimizing the disadvantage of his larger weapon. At least, that was the intention.

Footwork was the key, in these situations. He was immediately aware of his opponent's step, and staggered his own foot back to avoid the leg-lace trap. As the man attempted to bulldoze forward, Gorehound did what it was forged to do best- between the crook of the axehead and the shaft, it trapped the flat-sided vibroblade and jerked it down and away from Darian.

They say in the pits, "why make a man do more than he already intends?"

The High Priest of Kad Ha'rangir planted his foot behind the back leg of his adversary, and he lowered his level. At the same time, Darian reached quickly for the near knee and attempted to wrench it upward, seeking to force the man heels-over-helmet and onto his back.

[member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"]

 

[Atin Vendet]

His sword was pressed away, locked by the Axe curve of his opponent's left hand. Rather than hold onto it, he let it go for not only the brief element of surprise, but to rid himself of the crippling weapon in close quarters, thus freeing up his hands. His enemy was left handed, and skilled to boot. He felt the brush of the ankle against his, and the shift of weight. He was going to his back, no questions about it. The shift of the weight down, and the switch to a formal hold. Two things were free. The enemy priest's left arm, and his right leg.

If jekai went to his back, the fight would be won, with full yield of the axe and him in a much more compromised spot. His left grabbed his enemies breast plate, to the side of the helm so as to not allow his fragile bones in his hand to be crushed by the helmet. He pulled himself in, crouching, to allow for himself to be brought under his foe as he went to his back. His right knee would be to the man's chest, giving that same hand access to the knife in his lower right boot.

He hit his back with a thud, the air leaving him. He pulled the reverse curved knife, his enemy on top of him, meaning that an axe strike or any potential strike might be done slower than the jamming of his blade, or produce the opportunity. He'd draw the Boot knife, and swiftly drive it upwards into the very sensitive nerves and blood vessels in the under arm of his enemies left- holding the axe.

His alternative would be to shove it in between the man's fingers on his hand. If such a thing did impact, and produce blood or even temporary shock at impact, he could get this man off of him.

(IF It connects the exposed arm or body on your left - Ignore this part if countered.)

He'd withdraw the blade, to place it against the man's inner femoral artery, along the inner thigh. "Yield"

[member="Darian Beviin"]

*Swiftly Edits*

He was in the middle of a pitched fight, and the blaster fire was not drowned out by other sounds, but by survival instinct. To stop meant to lose. To stop meant to die. To stop meant the final move was lost. He pressed for a finality of the engagement, although to the avoidance of loss of life. [member="Jagen Wren"]

 

[Jagen Wren]

[Theme]​

​

"Ori pirusti, vode (Very well, brothers)"​

​

The middle-aged mandalorian pressed the switch on the fastener that kept his large duster over his back, revealing the armor and the jetpack underneath. After equipping his helmet, Jagen grabbed his beskad by the sheath and raised it, drawing the kahl out of its prison with his dominant hand on the curved hilt in one swift motion.

Dropping the sheath into the dirt, he raised his right arm, already having armed the gauntlet with his HUD and shot an Echani-graphite grappling at [member="Darian Beviin"]. He hoped that it wrapped around his brother quickly, and if it did he would attempt to pull the brothers away from each other, assisted by the technology and his renewed vigor.

[member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"]

 

[Ardasz Verd]

Several things happened very quickly.

The blade of his opponent ceased to resist, and coupled with Darian's motion, it clattered to the dirt and away from the two combatants. That was well and good.

Instinct jabbed the axe forward, rather than swinging through. It was a jarring motion, but hand axes were built for tactical movements foremost. It had the potential of a killing weapon, but that purpose was secondary.

Jekai grabbed for his collarbone, where Darian assumed he sought purchase on plate. As it was, he grappled at flesh, and the Priest shrugged away from the attempt, the head of Gorehound glancing off the armor plates on the other man's arm. It was not a clean transition, but it forced manageable distance between them as they scrambled.

The man brought his leg up, knee first to keep Darian at bay. The Priest reached quickly for the heel of that leg with his right hand, seeking to scoop it and in a single motion, spin the man on his back, at the very least a quarter turn. This was done both to pass his guard and to put the opponent off balance.

In the next motion, Gorehound rose, fell, and slammed into the dirt next to Jekai's body- regardless of whether or not there was an opening to kill. "Mhi vode," he murmured as blood dripped from his flayed cheeks to the ground. "We are brothers," he repeated in basic, for those around them who were still learning the ways of the Mando'ade.

"It is not our way to spill the blood of our own, nor to take the lives our brothers. I will not start today. I see you as Mandalorian, ner'vod. Rise, and stand behind whoever you wish."

Darian grabbed Gorehound from the dirt and replaced it at his hip. "And I'll not hear the word Dar'manda from any of you here, about anyone, again. We are our own worst enemy with this segregation of who does and does not have soul. We are above that. Let action dictate who is Mando'ad."

[member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"]

No sooner had he stood than did the grappling hook wound around his form, and Darian blinked several times as he was jerked from a standing position and pulled clear away from Jekai.

Jagen had not expected his actions, but Darian was not the sort to hold a man in contempt for his good intentions. With a dark curse, he hit the floor and glared up at the man who had snared him.

"Your grappling hook works, bur'cya."

[member="Jagen Wren"]

 

[Atin Vendet]

The man's right hand soon let loose his left knee and position on it, giving that leg free reign to move as needs be. Space was made as his left hand slipped on bare flesh, rather than armor. If he slipped, and the man did not follow with him, then he would be rightfully on his back. He'd do a simultaneous turn to have his left steel toe'd boot slam his enemies shin, along the bone. Spinning a man using his right leg, at 215 lbs plus 35 lbs for the chest bit of armor, 5 for each knee pad, ten for the helmet, 20 for the fully fueled jetpack (Which certainly didn't have him drop flat on his back, as I'd initially imagined due to my own error), save weapons.

However, regardless of the end and the means, the man (If I understand properly) willingly exposed himself and ended the fight in favor of a lesson. When his rival stood, he was thus detained by [member="Jagen Wren"]

Jekai took no opportunity to cheap shot the man, instead picking himself up, feeling mildly cheated of one of the finer fights he had been a part of, mechanically speaking. He shook his head, not at all in agreement, fight or not. His right hand reached for his sidearm, debating its use in lethal manner. However, his fight was not so much interrupted, as it appeared that [member="Darian Beviin"] stopped it to produce a point. He let his hand fall away, at that realization, rather than draw on [member="Jagen Wren"] for interrupting his fight.

"I merely want to see them following the Manda proper, to renounce all titles to the jedi and sith religion, to reduce outsider symbolism and hero worship. They need to believe in the Manda, the oversoul. To believe in the force is to deny the oversoul.", he repeated. At this point, he'd said the entire thing numerous times, with points not covered through the entire sermon. The Codex Loyalist shook his head. "These idiots keep thinking I'm against those gifted, or to use it. I'm against the symbolism, and the failure of the Cin Vhetin tradition.My job as a protector is to protect the PROPER way of life- and the Mand'alor that follows it. I'll consider it when they renounce assassins, titles like darth, and stop calling it the force. The force doesn't exist. It's a sham. Jedi Religion. Only the oversoul exists and grants whatever meager power they MIGHT use.", he says, his conversation directly with Darian.

"Things before Cin Vhetin should have been left behind. Ours is the way of challenge, and self discovery. Ours is not the easy path. It's the journey of self discovery, not the destination. Power and victory aren't the only things at stake.", he adds, before resuming. All of this would be said in Mando'a to [member="Darian Beviin"] (But it was 3am where the author lived, and he couldn't be asked to translate his stupid fancy english word usage)

[member="Aedan Miles"]

 

[Jagen Wren]

Jagen returned the glare, albeit with some reservation. He didn't hold it against the man to express his opinions, but that did not give him the allowance to start an all-out brawl in an already tense atmosphere.

"But your mirshe (brain) doesn't, di'kut." He stated, retracting the grappling hook from around his vod back into the gauntlet.

The swordsman kept the formerly-snared one at bay by propping his blade in front of him. "Ne'johaa! (Shut up!)" The older man barked at the pup "Your words are neither needed or wanted, and now is not the best time for them! Sit down, while this situation is dealt with!"

[member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"] | [member="Darian Beviin"]

 

[Atin Vendet]

Jekai had been talking with [member="Darian Beviin"] , and now the old one had come in firing a blaster, seizing one he had been in a match of skill with, and interrupting his conversation. Jekai 'Pup' Almec had taken the nickname in stride, and as a marked joke. The joke being that the pup, while smaller in stature, still knew of loyalty and duty to things properly taught. He'd taken the name to poke fun at those that slung around the insult child. To him, the remark was even more humorous from those that had fallen so far. He met his visor'd gaze to [member="Jagen Wren"] , "Blow me.", he says, simply. "Hard truths are exactly what they need to hear. They need to stop being enabled and coddled.", he says to [member="Jagen Wren"]

The Man returns his knife to his boot, and sword to his back, before resuming his place behind his banner. He had a match to watch, and he tuned out most of the force cultists for the time being, unless bothered. More important things were at stake. Plenty of time for honor duels.

 

[Garith Darkhold]

Garith looked around at his gathered vod. Still more talking and debating. The only two that had an honorable duel was the priest and the pup. Garith looked back over to Olivia and Vilaz. He was starting wonder if there was only going to be talking. If that was the case, Garith would truly be disheartened.

[member="Olivia Dem'adas"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Darian"] Bevlin [member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"] @Keria Ticon [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Cole Dagos"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Artemis Lux"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Jagen Wren"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Garith Darkhold"], [member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"], [member="Darian Beviin"], [member="The Matador"],

There was another arrival to the scene of the challenge as a droid moved closer to the gathered group, adjusting a Beskar'gam styled plate over an organic biot armor that covered his Phrik combat body, the more normal one, he did not appear using the model with three faces this time around. Black cloak wrapped around his shoulder and extended down past his back, collection of various weapons swayed on his belt.

"Hey guys how are things going?"

He greeted the group casually just to see the fallout of the fight [member="Jagen Wren"] broke up, picking up on the grappling hook the man used, whether just recognizing the design on his armor or being able to notice it with his scanners,

"Graphite grappling hook, I designed that. I did not knew that people outside of Abregado and other Protectorate holdings used these, most of you organics tend to dismiss older tech rather easily."

By "older" the droid meant designed for use of a now fallen major power, although ARGH made their gadgets to last, no planned obsolescence or any of that nonsense.

"Never a boring time when the Mandalorians gather I see."

The sentient machine quipped, looking over others.

 

[RC 212]

Up until this point she had ignored them all, except the challengers for the title of Mad'alor. She was sitting by the fire in her green and ornage armor. This was a mockery, and this place a sham. They were supposed to be brothers, sisters. Keepers of the faith. And she had to admit she was very disappointed in what transpired here today.

She rose, tucking her helmet under her arm and watched the two face off. She had no words for what had transpired, except for Jekai.

"Now is neither the place nor time Vod. I share your sentiment, but it nothing to spill blood over.."

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Kurayami leaned over and reached into his bag, once he finally took note that [member="Keira Ticon"] was also around. SHe was his adoptive...uh...cousin or something like that. Yea, cousin sounded about right. As he unstably sat back upright he withdrew a bottle of vintage Corellian ale from the bag and with surprising accuracy sent it hurtling towards Keira's head from where he sat. While others may have seen such an act as one of hostility, he was viewing it in a purely practical light. He was drunk, was having trouble even sitting upright, and therefor it made more sense and was safer to throw the booze to her. While it was in flight, he called out to her so that she wouldn't have to take the shot to the skull.

"Incoming booze for you, Keira! Don' worry...s'good stuff, ya know, like Corellian rum or something. I didn't read the label hones'ly."

This time instead of just throwing the bottle into the fire and grabbing another from the bag, he decided to show just how much he cared about the opinions of others when it came to Force users by using the force to levitate a third bottle into his hand. This was about as far as he got before falling face first into the ash after uncorking the bottle. Amazingly, none of his drink spilled and he simply laid there for a moment laughing at himself. It took a few tries, but he eventually managed to roll over onto his back before accepting his new position and moving to sit upright, this time leaning back against the split log bench as a support. He didn't respond to anything anyone was saying as of now, he just watched as everything unfolded through the haze of namana nectar induced inebriation.

[member="Alleria Fett"] [member="Garith Darkhold"] [member="Jekai 'Pup' Almec"] [member="Jagen Wren"] [member="Darian Beviin"][member="Aedan Miles"]

 

[Eugen Aker]

Out of gratitude to House Verd for loaning out some of their toys for her use against a mutual target, the normally apolitical Face would answer the summons representing her clan. It was only from this same source of gratitude that she would remain on the scene for the gong show unfolding before her.

Loyalty tests. Legalism. Straight up pissing contests. She was quickly reminded why she kept herself out of the political scene.

One highlight of the evening would be a duel between a pair of blokes following a heated verbal exchange. However, much to her dismay, it was soon over before it began. So she was just left there rolling on the balls of her feet as she waited for the main event to finally begin.

The cyborg would stiffen out of reflex as she caught a sudden flash of movement out of the corner of her visor. She tracked the origin of the object back to a man she immediately identified as a Psyker by the way he manipulated a bottle with invisible hands of telekinesis. She wasn't at all phased by his display of power, as such individuals were a common sight among her people, no matter how everyone felt about them. So common that she had made sure she hadn't left home without a Ysalamir strapped to the back of her armor.

Moving quietly enough to avoid making a commotion (among others already in progress), she moseyed on over toward the stranger on the log until she came within earshot though still far enough away to avoid him being affected by her Ysalamir.

"Hey there, feeling in a generous mood? I have some jerky if you wanna share."

[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Kurayami was at first completely unaware he had been spoken to, eventually the words managed to break through the drunken haze and register in his mind. Once the words did manage to make sense to him however, he just chuckled. After taking another long pull from his bottle of booze he responded to @Face.

"HEY! New friend! I mean, I'm not in a bad mood, or really like, ya know a great mood. I'm just kinda here. Learning abou' being a Mangolorian. Mannalorian? Somethin'' like that. Bu' s'okay the person I jus' threw booze at is my adoptive cousin type of person. So she be fine. She's kinna a hardass bout some stuff though. Oh, can you have a drink? Yea, sure, jus' like reach in the bag there...i just grabbed a buncha stuff, mighta all been the same, namana nec'ar is my favorite drink. Yea, helps yourself though."

He had no idea how much or for how long he spent rambling at the poor woman, but he did finally tell her she was welcome to a drink if she wanted one. He was already half way through the third bottle. How many more would he go through tonight? Only time could tell.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

"Maybe it's you that is afraid, Dem'adas, as you show to us all that you are afraid with fighting with a sword and without armor, and rely and hide behind your toys," the Mand'alor said to his challenger. "Yet you forget that Jack Raxis was dar'manda and challenges Ra on an active battlefield. And you also forget that Ra had won the mantle against three other combatants without his armor and a simple axe, just as I honorably earned the mantle against Ijaat with only a beskad and without my armor. That proves me much more honorable and respectable, and proves you a coward."

"So what will it be, Dem'adas? Will you prove to us all that you're a warrior worth more than her armor and toys? Or will you show us all that you are a coward with no sense of honor?"

To earn the mantle of Mand'alor was to earn the loyalty and respect of other Mandalorians through actions with honor.

Vilaz was either way ready and prepared if Olivia did attack him. His Kathol Liberation Ring on his left hand gave him courage, willpower, and determination along with his own subdued the fear pouring out of Olivia's blade.

Spoiler

-Assault rifle in bio
-All misc equipment in bio
-Two Sonic Grenades
-Two EMP grenades
-Beskad
-Two WESTAR 34s
-Fett-Kal knife

[member="Olivia Dem'adas"]

 

[Atin Vendet]

Jekai Almec looks over from his flag, and couldn't sound LESS un impressed if he tried. "Quit stalling, and quit trying to have her break the resol'nare you idiot", he says to Vilaz, not even giving the courtesy of using Mando'a. "Ra was a piece of Trash force cultist. His lack of armor, and your adoption shows how little you know of our true ways. Did he not run following the fight? He's hardly dead, and those duels are 'traditionally' to the death. Since when are we taking his example on anything? Fights have been done through the ages in armor, and honorably. Your cowardly goading with non traditional adaptations reveals many truths about you, none pleasant. Simply do so with swords IN armor, and without anything else, as thousands have done before you.", he growls. "If you knew half as much about being a Mandalorian as you did about wording it to sound cowardly to follow REAL tradition, you might actually be worth following.", he says. "You both will be in it, and if this was done proper- would be to the death. If you want to be a Mand'alor, start acting like it."

"Do things properly for once. You're the one lacking real standards." , he says in frustration. "If you people actually learned about real tradition, I'd not have to keep correcting you. This nonsense has gotten out of control. It's BEEN out of contr-" He looks to the Ori'mishir Chaab'kad, with its glowing runes, pausing mid sentence. He tightens his fist, white knuckled if not for gloves- pulls up his flag, and wordlessly returns to his ship. He'd ignore any goading past that. He was done, with that being the nail in the coffin of patience. Time to leave, unless stopped or challenged. From people standing around without armor on, to using outsider titles, to using 'magic' imbued things- he was quite finished here.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Eugen Aker]

His words came out as mostly unintelligible slurs, but she managed to pick up on the key bits about his willingness to share. Without hesitation, she plopped herself on the log with him and helped herself to a small bottle.

She removed her helmet and set it next to her lap, revealing an attractive Atrisian (or Seoulian?) face, long dark locks tied up in a thick braid for easy management. She held the bottle up to her face to inspect the label. Whyren's Reserve. Corellian. She smiled, it was the good stuff.

After she uncorked the bottle, she would tip the slender end toward the kind drunk stranger, then take a swig of the amber fluid. Common to many Corellian beverages, the whiskey had nice spicy notes with a good dose of caramel. A perfect representation of fiery Corellians in bottled form. It was good. So good that she may be kind enough to share some with her mates up in space. Maybe.

So there it was, at least two folks out of the bunch seemed to have made peace, brought together by the power of alcohol.

She took another swig as Vilaz would speak again, arguing for his dueling preferences. People were talking about traditions and regulations like they were lawyers in a courthouse, but at the end of the day, it came down to a matter of trying to play up one's advantages. Each style clearly favored one or the other, one a techno wizard, the other more quaint. Personally, she wouldn't have minded facing Vilaz according to his conditions, as then there would then be no complaints from him or his camp in the event of defeat.

Preacher boy was yelling about regulations again. People had been barely tolerating him at this point, but he may have just crossed the line speaking ill about Ra. However she or other felt about his policies, the previous Mand'alor had been effective in uniting almost all the clans into one cohesive unit that could challenge any power in the galaxy. To those more "progressive" types like Face, strict adherence to draconian laws mattered less than effective implementation of real world policies. Constructivists were rarely competent, and even less likely charismatic. Two qualities that were necessary for any ruler who was going to successfully lead the Mandalorians out of their current rut.

[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Jekai Almec"]