Laura Na'Varro
Giver of Crisp High Fives
Mandalore
For the first time in seven years, Rickon Ordo set foot on the soil of the Mandalorian homeworld. A native of Concord Dawn himself, Rickon had always held a special affinity for that world, but Mandalore ... there was history here. Thousands of years of history, paved in Mandalorian blood. After the Gulag plague, the Mandos had changed a little. Not by much, but there was perceptible shift in their thinking that differed from that of the Mandos of old. The Neo-Crusaders, Mandalore the Ultimate ... Rickon knew his history well. He was a traditional Mando warrior, to a tee, and he was damn proud of it.The 6'2" pure Mando soldier walked down the rampway of his ship, with a tiny five-year-old figure in tow. That was his boy Cassus, his pride and joy ... the little lad was quiet and a fast learner. He'd surpass his not inconsiderably respected old man if he kept up with his lessons. Rickon grinned at that thought. It was important to have a child to continue the Mando tradition of martial excellence. It was especially important to make sure that he or she surpassed you.
"<Keep your eyes open, lad.>"
Little Cassus nodded quietly, walking by his dad's side. Rickon too kept his eyes peeled, looking around for a big, ugly lunk. His adopted cousin and aliit'buur would be there to greet them, if the news he'd received was correct. And perhaps some others ... Rickon Ordo wasn't just any old Mando. He'd made a name for himself out in the galaxy, a reputation for excellence. He wasn't just a regular Mando soldier ... he was pure Mandalorian. The prodigan son had returned home.
@[member="Ordo"] @Any other Mando