The Next Generation [ Aka'liit & Mandalorians ]

[Darth Metus]

D X U N

Mandalorian Outpost, Exterior​

Hopes comes in the Morning.

With each passing day, the Outpost of Dxun began to swell. The curious, the bold, and the faithful all flocked to stand beside their Sole Ruler. Each was determined to see their culture survive the long night and thrive on the morrow. This influx brought immeasurable strength to the budding Aka'liit...but also, a new generation. Some had answered the call made by [member="Xander Carrick"] on Concord Dawn, whilst others had come to Dxun directly. Whichever the case, the Outpost was now home to a host of willing spirits. Yet, will alone did not make one a child of Manda'yaim. Now, those who had walked the path of the Resol'nare had a responsibility to fulfill. Upon their shoulders fell the burden to uplift these willing souls - to make them vode.

And their shoulders, eagerly, carried the burden.

Throughout the night, plans had been made. Veterans of the Mandalorians would take these souls under their wings through a variety of means. Some would focus on the martial - emphasizing how to conduct one's self on and off the battlefield. Others would focus on the culture, such as introducing their midst to Mando'a or the Resol'nare as a whole. In tandem with this plan had a departure from the Outpost occurred: a small exodus consisting of the new bloods and their mentors. They made camp a fair distance away from the Outpost, enough so that their journeys on the morrow would not sap all their strength...but close enough that aide was but a shout away. Even now, the Outpost's guardsmen could clearly see the fires of their kin in the distance.

As the Sun began to rise, movement gripped those surrounding the numerous fires. Those who would take a martial expedition into the jungles readied their arms and armor. Conversely, those determined to learn simply huddled together around a larger bonfire. The willing souls were ignorant - of their culture...and of what the day would bring. Yet determination burned within their eyes and hearts. The fire of Manda'yaim herself was inside them; and it was time the Next Generation stood tall.

It was time to Begin.

O B J E C T I V E S​

Objective I: Combat - Experienced members of the Aka'liit can take their recruits into the jungles of Dxun to learn the ways of combat. You can mentor a PC(s) or NPC(s) at your leisure, however you so choose. Will you clear a Drexl nest? Stalk a pack of Vornskr? The possibilities are endless and so is the glory!

Objective II: Education - The Resol'nare demands more than skill in battle, and thus the Aka'liit must educate their recruits. Again, you can elect to mentor a PC(s) or NPC(s) in this objective, and can teach them whatever you deem most important. Will you introduce them to Mando'a? Will you teach children the Resol'nare Rhyme around the Fire? The choices rest within your capable hands!

Objective III: BYOO - Do you have a desire to mentor the next generation outside of teaching or combat? You can! Weave a tale on the Blood Moon all your own!

Author's Note: This thread is open to the Aka'liit and any character that is interested in becoming a Mandalorian! ​

Spoiler

[member="Aden Dral"], [member="Agenor Dyre"], [member="Amaya Verd"], [member="Anika Nygaard"], [member="Artemis Lux"], [member="Briika Tor"], [member="Butterfly"], [member="Cabur Aranar"], [member="Darth Doom"], [member="Diana Veneris"], [member="Isamu Baelor"], [member="Jagen Wren"], [member="James Solaris"], [member="Kad Tor"], [member="Kalyr Alor"], [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Lok Munin"], [member="Malok"], [member="Mór-rioghain"], [member="Mesh'la Dral"], [member="Odion Kryze"], [member="Scáthach"], [member="Shia LeFett"], [member="Strider Garon"], [member="Tyra Gozen"], [member="Valkyr"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Xander Carrick"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Zeradias Mant"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Against all of her better judgement, Keira had arrived. The call had come from within the Aka'liit for teachers and students both, and she had deigned to show her face. They were nothing like the dissolved Crusaders, this band, but they were what she had as far as any true family among the vode was concerned. And so she considered it her responsibility to teach those new to her people just what it meant to hold the banner of Mandalorian as one's own. It was something she should have known better than many of them, as she had walked away and then returned to the culture, and here now conceptualized her rebirth. She was once again reborn and yet back from some kind of death, and always a veteran.

With her she had brought her military issue duffel bag - courtesy of the Republic but rebranded with the insignia of the Mandalorians and House Verd - it holding her armor and what items of her arsenal she wasn't already carrying on her person, namely her EE-3 - Delilah - and her beskad by the moniker of Ash Eater. She had come with no particular objective in mind, only a willingness to pass on her knowledge in some manner and see what new blood had come to the vode. Those that remained of the Crusaders - her Crusaders - hadn't been seen since the death of her older brother, and she presumed that would remain the case forevermore. They had nothing left, until now, with the birth of the Aka'liit.

As lost as she had been recently, it felt good to be among her people again. That sort of camaraderie and brotherhood had been missing from her life for too long a time, and it felt good to be back to some semblance of all that she knew best. All of these were new faces she would have to learn, and those that she did know were acquaintances at best. This was an entirely new generation, and seeing them all gathered made her feel older than ever. Her time on the battlefield was far from coming to an end, but it was beyond time that she passed the torch on to someone else, and hopefully today would facilitate that.

Her bag was carried at her side, and she stood just a slight distance from the other vode, only observing as the day began. Whatever was to come, she was ready. It was everything she knew.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The hulking man pulled himself from the small cot, his body coated in a fresh sheen of sweat. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet greeted by the cold stone flooring. In Ardgal's mind the screams and images of his suffering were still vividly fresh, his body quivered with pain as his fibromyalgia roared through is pulsing veins. Everything hurt. He could feel the world swimming around him, moving and shifting, as he struggled to keep a grip on this moment.

"Doctor Taylor!" the brute roared through clenched teeth, "Doctor, get your ass in here and give me my meds damn it!"

A moment later the doors swung open and the warrior's handler was there, syringe in hand. As the green liquid poured into his veins, Ardgal could slowly feel the agony begin to ebb away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, drawing in the partial release from pain. "I want a second dose."

"You know the drill, you only need o--"

Ardgal's hand grabbed the man's wrist, his grip threatened to easily snap it in two, "Perhaps I wasn't clear--give me a second shot."

Doctor Taylor swallowed hesitantly, "I-I-I'll see what I can do, Captain."

After a second shot, the warrior showered, dressed and ate his meal of local sausages and eggs. There was nothing quite like a home cooked meal. Clad in a lose grey tunic and dark brown pants Subject 13 lumbered from where he had slept that night, a small cottage nearby.

A small ball whizzed through the air like a blur towards his head. His left hand snapped it from the air, the rest of his body remaining unmoved. His head turned menacingly as he looked at the culprit. A trio of boys by the road stood by with guilty looks on their eyes. Mandalorian boys were trained from birth to be scared of nothing--well, except each other. The oldest of them, one holding a sporting stick swallowed nervously.

"This yours?" Ardgal asked curtly his eyes briefly flicking to the object in his hand.

The leader nodded nervously.

"Nice ball," he tossed it back, "Be careful to not lose it."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

It was one of the six tenets of the Resol'nare to teach your children, adopted or biological, the ways of the Mandalorian culture and to raise them as strong warriors as they were the next generation of Mandalorians to continue a united legacy that had survived and etched its way from a very, very long time ago. The moment he adopted a Lok Munin as his own the very first thing the two did was bond and the father teaching his son the Mandalorian way of life. Then he taught him combat and warfare, bounty hunting and mercenary work, and other knowledge that Vilaz passed on down to Lok. Indeed, the youngster still wasn't at his prime and could still use a lot of training, but he was living up to the man's expectations. And now that the Mand'alor and Bree had their daughter, it would be years from now for the two parents to teach their child how to be a proper Mandalorian.

Today, while many of the young Mandalorians weren't any of his own, he would be mentoring many of them. He remember he had many teachers and mentors that not only taught him how to wage war, but philosophies, ideals, and values. Those things were what made him the type of Mandalorian that he was today, and some warriors had a similar mind as his.

In the exterior of the old Neo-Crusader outpost that had recently been refurnished by the Aka'liit was the Munin in his armor, yet his helmet not concealing his face. Only to strangers did he not share the features and looks of his identity save for that he was a capable warrior, bounty hunter, and mercenary. Amongst the vast sea of veterans and rookies did he spot an old rival, and one that he made way for.

"Bit foolish to run around these parts with no protection, Ticon."

[member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Drof'del Tavor]

Drof'del had entered the main perimeter of the outpost, which was teeming with other vode, rookies and veterans alike. He knew he was in safer territory and slung his carbine to his back.
His thoughts were swimming with questions and hopes. The guard back at MO-5 made him feel welcome, as if he was considered a friend or better yet- fellow vode.

Drof's uncle made him remember the Resol'nare and he still remembered the rhyme as if it was instinct knowledge. His thoughts then shifted to his uncle, left without a trace and no where to find him. Maybe Kandorro would come here- to regroup with other Mandalorians?

"Huh, in any case i should get some training, should i be with a squad. Been a while since I worked with a group" he thought to himself.

Drof held out his palms and examined them, noting the wear on his armor. He had been on quite the trek months ago but it seems that he is catching a break now...just maybe.

A loud gasp came from nearby and Drof shifted his attention upwards- upon a trio of boys standing before a man who appeared to catch their ball.
"Yeah, I think i need to see the players here and learn from them. Knowledge can be shared more than one way"
Awkwardly standing in the open, locking his vision on the scene he caught himself staring and broke away, as to not offend anyone. He shifted his stride a different direction, toward a bigger building marked MO-3. He figured he could try to let loose and try to talk with the others.

He had a lot to look forward to, and even more so to prove his worth.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Ardgal turned back to his path just in time to catch sight of a man turning away and walking in the opposite direction. Project 13 felt a flash of paranoia--it was just something you got when your brain was put in a blender set to "puree" a few dozen times. He calmed himself with a pat to his Ravager and twin blaster pistols. He had to remind himself that Mandalorians were family not foes. At least, that was the theory. He'd be damned the day he saw any Mando actually treat him as an equal besides Gray Raxis, wherever he was.

He began marching after him, marching was the best word to describe the focused, intensive walk that Ardgal used at all times. He was here to help train and raise up what was supposed to be the next generation of warriors. While he couldn't give them all his innate skills and bio-engineering, he could teach them some of the things he had discovered and been taught along the way.

"Hey," he called after the armor clad clunky as he grew closer. He gave a nod to the other man, stopping not too far from him. "Ardgal Raxis. You new to these parts or you a native?"

[member="Drof'del Tavor"]

 

[Drof'del Tavor]

Drof'del was walking toward MO-3 making note of the bustling environment this little outpost was. Maybe he could find a future with these Mandalorians?
His time here on Dxun would be short as he still had to go to Concord Dawn to "take care of business"...

He then heard a grizzled voice come from behind him "Hey"

Drof whipped around to face the man who had caught up with him. A potential comrade.

"Ardgal Raxis. You new to these parts or you a native?"

Drof was caught off guard, he mustered some words and gave a terse reply. "I....I am new to these parts, just re-supplying before I head to Concord Dawn"

He then realized he had forgotten to introduce himself and acknowledge Ardgal's gesture. "Oh! Nice to make your acquaintace Ardgal Raxis, I am Drof'del Tavor"
Thoughts were racing and his palms were getting sweaty. He posed a question then to Raxis "Are you originally from here or you here on business?"

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

He could smell the nervousness off the rookie like hormones off a bantha in heat. Of course, having Vong biots shoved up your nose with enhanced olfactory capacities gave you the ability to distinguish small things like that. He couldn't tell if it was because he was new here or if it was because Ardgal was--well he was that kinda guy who just made people nervous and sweaty when he was in the room.

"I....I am new to these parts, just re-supplying before I head to Concord Dawn"

Ardgal nodded, "Mn." He gave his name, "Mn."

The warrior was a lovely conversationalist, after all.

"Business," Ardgal answered, he hooked his thumbs through belt loops on his pants, giving the young one an appraising eye. He was green, fairly green. Unlike most of the "hardened warriors" who made up a fair amount of Mando culture, he thought that with envy not condescending arrogance.

"Supposed to be family," he said nodding his head at the other Vode, "supposed to be a big happy family reunion. I'm here to help train the next generation and pass on what I know to others."

[member="Drof'del Tavor"]

 

[Corvus Detta]

Corvus had come with his father to join in the rebuilding of the once great Mandalorian culture. Father was off fighting, but Corvus had to stay behind and train. He wasn't ready...yet. It would be some time before he fought alongside his father.

For now, he'd prepare himself for the future. Become the warrior his parents were. And with his sister [member="Kaylanna Detta"], he could accomplish anything. Walking to the Outpost, Corvus had a few items he always carried, a Beskar knife, his fathers reveolver and the pride of the Detta clan.

@Anyone willing to train Corvus in anything Mandalorian and the Force

 

[Strider Garon]

Dxun was a jungle world where every aspect of its flora and fauna was design to kill. The devil's moon was the more appropriate name for he planet for only the strong could survive. Was a wise location to rally the mandalorians, re build what was lost and train the younger generation of warriors. Was the perfect training field and the old man had set his sights upon and young mando walking to the outpost. Was time the lad learned some respect for the jungle, time to teach him the ways of death and the arts of war. First thngs were first, the old man had to set the mood and get the boy's attention.

[member="Corvus Detta"] would feel a lifeless hand reach out from the jungle and grip the lip of his buy'ce, near the chin, then ripping him back into the muscular form of the unarmored Strider. The young mandalorian would notice the metalic edge of a blade held tight to his throat, even above his body glove it still posed threat of instant death. The older warrior leaned his face to rest upon the left side of his prey's helmet. It was time to exchange some words of wisdom to his grandson.

"Few pounds of pressure....." The distinguished harsh raspy voice of Strider echoed into Corvus's helmet "....... The blade will cut through the material on your neck, slicing through your flesh and severing your trachea and carotid arteries." He pressed the blade a little harder against the youth's throat for more effect. "Death would come quick. but in that short period of time your will panic as blood drains rapidly through the wound. Your vision will darken as your brain falls victim to lack of oxygen and into unconsciousness. Seconds later, you will die"

"Your final act in life......" The warrior continued " will be the release of your bowels, defecating and soiling the very armor you hold pride in" Strider would take the blade away from Corvus's throat and shove him forward. "That is the glory of death, and if you are to truly to become a warrior you best be square with that. Accept it, embrace it as if it were kin, then nothing on the field of battle will paralyze you from doing what needs to be done"

"Do you understand me boy?"

 

[Drof'del Tavor]

Drof took note of the stance Ardgal was enacting. The man was in a relaxed position and no doubt could read him very well. Drof did his best to "relax" and not act too paranoid so he brought his hands forward and clasped them together at his belt line.

He took a quick glance at the surroundings before giving a brief nod to his new acquaintance."This is quite the encampment for training I will say that much"

This man was training rookies, which means this man has probably seen alot and has quite the wealth in knowledge

"Teaching what you know to others? Knowledge is the difference between life and death seems like" His thoughts trailed off and he was pondering how to proceed from here
Kriff, I have to go to Concord Dawn before i get involved with anything. This outpost is impressive and there are obviously well-trained mentors here. I need to stay here just for a day or two and see what this is all about.

"I am sure you have a lot of knowledge to teach these vode. What kind of trade are you in? Soldier for hire? Bounty Hunter? What?"

He didnt want to come off as a nosy person but this was due to his social ineptitude, this man intrigued Drof'del and he was curious about the planet and the locals.

[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

He supposed it was. He had never stayed put in one place long enough to really make an encampment worth while, and when he did, they were rough and tumble sorts. He had preferred to train from tents, under stars, and in environments that were quite horribly inhospitable. It made you grateful to have a roof over your head, and better than that it made you one hardened fighter. He wanted his troops to be that.

"Sure is," he said with a nod to Drof's statement about knowledge and the facilities.

Who was Ardgal? Now that made his lips curve in a small but genuine smile.

"I was a general once," he said with slight reflection, "I thought I was something more but I was just a general," he looked out the door at the field of Mandolorians out scrambling, training and going through the day. His eyes saw past them to the times that were. For just a moment it seemed like Ardgal raised his shoulders, squaring them with a hint of nobility. Just for a moment. Then his face shifted in a way that couldn't be described, back to the cold calculation of a man who had been torn down and reduced to a machine.

"I was a general," he repeated, the words a little more wistful, he looked back to Drof. "Now I am a gun for hire, a one man army leading a spec ops of highly trained elite forces specializing in Anti-Force User tactics." He paused, thinking for a moment. He shifted, his tone changing and his posture getting more square, 'What is your most valuable weapon, Tavor?"

[member="Drof'del Tavor"]

 

[Briika Munin]

Briika toted a crate with the Mandalorian Medical Corps insignia on the side out to the clearing in the middle of the outpost where there was a fire pit with logs surrounding it to sit on. Many a time meetings or gatherings were held there. Also in the area were a couple of long wooden tables to either work or eat on with moveable benches on either side. Mandalorians liked to be outdoors.

Today the seasoned medic was going to teach basic first aid to those that wanted the training. She also was well-versed in the Mandalorian language being immersed in the culture since birth, and would gladly offer instruction one on one or in a group should any new or old Mando warrior needed help with it. Utilizing Mando'a in their everyday lives was part of the Resol'nare - the six tenets True Mandalorians lived by.

The golden blonde removed her silver-colored helmet and clipped it to her utility belt, then brushed off one of the tables of any debris with her gloved hand before setting out the contents of a medpac on a blue chux pad to keep them clean. For anyone that completed her class, they'd get a brand new medpac to add to their own personal kit.


@Any wanting Basic First Aid Training or Mando'a lessons.

 

[Drof'del Tavor]

His ears had perked up, this man was once a general. No matter which army, Drof saw people of rank as his superiors. They knew more and were well experienced.

"I see......I am sure you had many campaigns under your belt, sir"

He saw Ardgal look away at the soldiers nearby, Drof knew that he was reminiscing other times and gave the man that moment of silence as to not break him away from his thoughts. He could tell the man was troubled, or that he had thoughts of nostalgia- in some sense.

"I guess thats something you and I have in common then-soldier for hire i mean."
"you bring the cash, ill bring the thrash" He slightly chuckled then realized it was something not so bright to say.

Drof was taken aback by Ardgal's question, normally he had talked to peers about women, blasters or happenings of the galaxy but no one has ever asked him a question with such meaning.
He thought briefly, then nodded giving him this answer.

"I am not as well-experienced as you, and most people would say their vibroknife, blaster rifle etc. But my most valuable weapon to me, at least-- is my persistence and dedication. My uncle had these traits too, when you are persistent and dedicated to your work, you will hardly fail and your work will shine through the rubbish"

Drof was unsure if the man was looking for a different answer, but he was sticking with this one.
"How about you Ardgal?"
[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"More than I would like," he said in reply to the comment about campaigns. He wasn't proud of what he had to do, if he had his choice he would have lived a quieter life, a common life just with a woman, raising children, eating home cooked meals, and having a place to call home instead of living out of a gunlocker and eating MREs--when he was able to eat that is.

He smirked at the comment. He had heard it thrown around a few times. He didn't do the whole, "work well with others" thing--and when he did, it usually ended up with someone trying to cut him out of the deal. That never ended well. But the few times he had been working with others, he had heard it.

When the younger pup gave his answer he nodded once, twice, giving a grunt of affirmation at the end. Good answer. Was it a perfect answer? No, there were none. The question was designed to probe and find out what kind of person you were dealing with. What did Ardgal see here? Someone who knew that fighting was more than waving around a blaster and wearing a tin can over your skin.

"The mind," Ardgal answered tapping his forehead. "Battles are won and lost between the six inches between your ears. You can have the damn best rifle, be the best shot, wear the cutting edge armor made of pure beskar and wield the sharpest blade--but you can be beat by someone with a rusty knife if they know what they are doing. Fighting isn't about strength, armor, or weapons, its about being cunning and brilliant."

He let the words sink in for a second before continuing with the next question he had, "What's the most important thing to bring into a fight? And what's the most important thing to take out of it?"

[member="Drof'del Tavor"]

 

[Corvus Detta]

[member="Strider Garon"]

As Corvus walked along to path to the outpost, he felt a twinge in the nape of his neck, but before his brain could comprehend the danger, a large hand flew from the trees and snatched him by the chin of his duraplast helmet. Then the blade, cold, razor sharp, pressed against his neck and Corvus felt all the life drain from his body. Then came the voice, a voice he had not heard since he was a youngling. Ba'buir! Corvus' fear turned to excitement. Then the tale of his death came in to flush the excitement down the toilet.

When ba'buir shoved him away, Corvus tucked and rolled over to face his Grand-Hound. He removed his helmet, his face a mixture of excitement and understanding at the words he'd been given. Strider was by far the greatest Mandalorian to have roamed this great galaxy. Father had spoken of their time together on the many battlefields. His legend was Galactic in stature, just like his physical form. Nodding vigorously, Corvus expressed his understandings of the first lesson he learned as a Vod.

"I understand ba'buir. Vor entye."

Corvus clenched his fist and gave a solute of his fist to his chest while he tucked his helmet under his arm.

 

[Kaylanna Detta]

Where was her brother? He was supposed to wait. She looked around for his familiar form she had been on Emberlene learning from her clan sisters the ways the Mistryl.

She stood on the path till her gaze rested on a tall form, his posture tilted as if he held something tight. Then she saw the shadow of the small form..oh oh..she began to run. Someone had her brother, someone was hurting [member="Corvus Detta"] .

She drew the small whip given to her by her Aunts, she was ready to grab the assailant with a snap...she hoped. She drew closer almost skidding to a stop when she saw Corvus saluting...what the feth!

She didn't stop quick enough and ran right into the man who had been holding Corvus..."feth" she whispered as she fell back onto the ground. "Leave my brother be."

[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Malok was raised better.

Decades ago, his sire had spared no expense in making certain his sons were thoroughly educated. They were exposed to the arts, to music, and above all else, language. By the time the Behemoth was a teenager, he could understand a plethora of foreign scripts and was fluent in a handful. Fast-forward to the present, and Malok had a dilemma that would have made his sire sorely disappointed. Although his time among the Mandalorians had been short, he thought that Mando'a would have come easily. Yet that was the furthest thing from the truth. He had difficulty pronouncing the words, fumbled over proper sentence structure, and genuinely felt embarrased every time he spoke over the comm.

Fortunately, a tutor was available.

Her name was [member="Briika Tor"], and she was none other than one of Mandalore's finest medics. Today, in the spirit of uplifting the next generation, she was offering a two-course meal of education. On top of being the potential cure to Malok's linguist problem, she also offered to teach those interested first aid techniques. That will come in handy... thought the Behemoth to himself. He calmly approached the tables that the Baar'ur had set up, before bowing his head politely. His greeting, composed of shoddy Mando'a, sounded a little something like:

"Hi. Want learn heal and Mando-speak. Help you, me please?"

To that was added a toothy grin.

[member="Briika Tor"]

 

[Drof'del Tavor]

"More than I would like,"

"More than you like huh? Well you have been successful to have so many campaigns--at least i would think so" Drof added, he was trying to read the man and determine what kind of life he lead, full of glory? Full of regret? The questions became more and more in his head.

"The mind," Ardgal answered tapping his forehead. "Battles are won and lost between the six inches between your ears.You can have the damn best rifle, be the best shot, wear the cutting edge armor made of pure beskar and wield the sharpest blade--but you can be beat by someone with a rusty knife if they know what they are doing.Fighting isn't about strength, armor, or weapons, its about being cunning and brilliant."

"A mind can power the galaxy, if it wanted to in a way. A mind is a horrible thing to lose and/or waste. I agree with you there, even the most simple of people could have such a brilliant mind and could perform tasks that could be deemed impossible if they played their cards right."

Ardgal's next question would leave Drof thinking for a solid minute or two. He was full of good questions--no doubt to delve deep into his answers and figure things out. Smart people ask questions and bide their time. Drof'del would oblige the man and give his answer.
"Most important thing to bring in to battle? Huh, thats a tough one, but i would personally say--knowledge, or at least wits. Many hair-splitting decisions happen on the battlefield, if you aren't quick to the draw and think with sound mind, things can and WILL go wrong. At least thats just a personal answer from me. As far as what to take out of the battle, i would say is--lessons. You can learn so much from mistakes or what you could have improved on. I would say comrades would be the most important to bring back with you but you won't always have help out in battle."

These were the only answers that weighed heavy on his mind, and the only ones that he could muster for the general. Drof was no combat expert but he had sense to know that if you treat your men as your children, they will follow you even to death. Drof became more intrigued with the general's question so he rebuked it back to him

"How about you sir? How do you weigh in on this question?"
[member="Ardgal Raxis"]

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

"Knowledge, good, intel, good," Ardgal gave a nod, "Your wits, good."

Ardgal had built his own army before, his own men, the Godkillers and shaped them into something remarkable. He did it by knowing who and what they were and shaping them into something remarkable. Drof wanted to live--or in the very least he liked to give good answers. A lot of the Mandos here lived and died by their brute and blind faith in their beskar'gam, their belief they would be able to punch their way out of everything. Did Drof learn that he couldn't do that the hard way? Or was he just a little more keen than most? Did someone show him that? Ardgal didn't know, he didn't care too much either. And as for the lessons--well Ardgal could account for that too. There were two types of warriors who lived to get gray hair in this business: the incredibly lucky and the incredibly smart.

"What do I say?" he crossed his arms, "If I am bringing one thing in, its my vode. Someone I can trust," he frowned, "Not many of those left anymore but there are a few. If they have my back, and I have theirs, then we are going to live through this. If they aren't there, I am a dead bastard. The best in the galaxy become that way by knowing this isn't a one-man-show. You work, you survive as a team, or you die alone. There is no third choice. That solo stuff only works for Bounty Hunters, and even they realize they can't go at it all alone all the time, they have guilds and team up from time to time.

"And that is exactly what I am talking out," he said as he lowered his eyes, "My vode," he could remember them all, every one who he wasn't fast enough or strong enough to bring home; Plutarch, Vertas, Germero, and on and on the names went, each he had memorized. He said them every night before he drifted off into drug-induced sleep. He muttered softly, "I'd do anything to bring my vode home safely."

He looked up, "So that is what you have to ask yourself now, what is important enough for you to sacrifice your vode for--what is really worth going to war for?"

[member="Drof'del Tavor"]