The Red Celebration [Mandalorian Empire]

[Nisha Decrilla]

The grasslands around Keldabe were alive with activity in the setting sun, funeral pyres had been lit, the bodies of the fallen laid to rest, at their centre, the Liberator’s pyre stood, flames licking up and over her body along with the others. Death Watch and Insurrectionists alike, the funeral chant carried on the wind. For some this was a time of quiet reflection, a chance to mourn what had been lost in one of the bloodiest battles in their history…

For others, it was a time of joy and celebration. Far from the pyres a huge marquee had been erected, beneath it tables laden with food. Great barrels of tihaar and ne’tra gal were piled high, free for all to help themselves. A dais had been erected at one end, a throne hastily carved for the Undying.

Hewn logs were scattered all around the open marquee, a dozen fire pits casting light as the darkness that was chasing the sun out of the sky. Groups erupted into song all over, chants rippling in the cool night air, accompanied by the soft tune whistle of bes’bevs, and the harsh shouts of a bolo-ball game that had erupted near by.

Malika passed wide eyes and a few sets of dilated pupils, a sure sign that there was more at work here than the free flowing alcohol. She smiled to herself as she wandered through the throngs. Mandalorians did nothing by halves.

Spoiler

OOC: a chance for you all to blow off steam and relax after the war.Pay your respects to the dead, stuff your faces at the banquet ‘hall’, swap stories round fires, drink till your heart's content and consume as much spice as you can get your hands on.

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Malika Mantis"]

The smells of roasting meat filled his nose as he hung by his wrist from a veshok tree limb. His toes barely touched the ground as he watched the Mandalorian victors mill about. His armor had been stripped from him and he hung exposed to the elements in only his underclothes. He could change forms and slip away but what would that gain. The balance was being maintained. His suffering would bear fruit in one way or another.

He kept his aged humanoid form. His long beard was enough to keep his face warm and his lean body would last days like this if need be. The true test was the smell of food, of meat and his parched throat. He had been treated for a severe concusion but dried blood still clung to his face and beard. Why he was still alive he didn't know, but he suspected some would entertain themselves by making sport of him.

A few pointed and some spit on him as they passed but it meant little. There were few things that meant anything in the moment.

He looked across the field and spied the strong form of a woman. Her predatory grace, the proud bearing, and he felt...something. Another test it seemed. He wanted the creature instantly and he hated her for it.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

A small olive-skinned hand wove its' way through [member="Malika Mantis"]'. Recovering from her wounds, Yasha Mantis refused to stay in her medic bed and miss a party.





It was a party! Parties were where one gave presents and the girl had a bag full of presents for one man. Trophies for [member="Ra Vizsla"]. Although her complexion paled to her usual, and she felt a bit wobbly on her feet, Yasha stuck beside Auntie Malika. Her nose caught the scent of food, and she bit her lip, tugging at her Aunt.





"I'm hungry, can we... can we eat? Do you think Daddy will be here?" One question so simple, the other ever complex. [member="Preliat Mantis"] had been a whisper, a shadow in the girl's life of late. While Yasha tried to make due, she felt compelled to look for her father. There were some moments little girls needed above all else. She wore borrowed and loose clothing, one gauntlet, the other hand free.





Yet food dwindled from her recovering mind. [member="Kal Ordo"] hung on a tree. Yasha's eyes narrowed, her goggles in her rucksack for the night event.





"Auntie..." Yasha's voice turned fierce, the rage-induced growl of a Mantis pup. "It's the guy who shot me. I'm not hungry anymore."





She towed Malika over to Kal, pushing her way through the jeering and growing crowd. "You... you... YOU!"





Yasha roared and balled her gauntlet-clad fist. She wound up and punched Kal between his legs. "You shot me you... bum! You made me have emotions! Rrrgh!"





Yanking her fist back, she punched him again for good measure. Panting, and a bit woozy from her recovery, Yasha held both her arms up to be picked up.





"Okay I'm hungry now. Can we go eat? I've been avenged." What could the girl do but smile? After all, this was a party.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The leaves were falling. The war was over. The war that damned them all, ended. And what was he left with?


Preliat stared at the reflection of himself in his broken visor, then looked to [member="Kal Ordo"] swinging from a tree. He was not that much of a savage. He walked forward, standing under the man whom he'd learned shot his daughter. He grabbed a fistful of the man's tattered clothing. The hands that beat Jasper Ordo into submission not even days ago now lay in a deadly position on the old warrior's body.

"There are so many sides to this war, so many moral grays that it becomes difficult to determine whether I am to be remembered as just or monstrous for what I have done."

He looked back at the drunken revelry. At his daughter, [member="Yasha Mantis"]. He turned his head back to the swinging man.

"She is but a child. Look at her."

He gave him a moment to.

"Do you know who I am?"

 

[Atiniir Starrider]

One thing Atiniir loved about being a Mandalorian: they knew how to celebrate. When he lived among the Shadowrunner pirates, celebrations like this had been common. Successful raids, birthdays, species-specific holidays: basically anything that could be used as an excuse to break out the ale. And boy did Atiniir need a drink. The battles of the Civil War had been fierce, and Atiniir had seen more combat in the past few years than he had seen in his entire life among the pirate fleets. His participation in the battle for the Cold Iron North had been too minimal to mention, but he was nevertheless feeling its effects as well. So he stood, glass of ale in his hand, trying to put aside thoughts of war.

As he took another long swig from his glass, he looked down to the child-no, warrior-standing beside him. Narir had grown since their first meeting, gaining several inches in height and a great deal of muscle. His demeanor had changed too. If anything, he was colder and more withdrawn than he had been when he first met Atiniir.

"You're an adult now, Narir," Atiniir said, reffering to the Mandalorian's custom of coming of age at thirteen, which Narir had passed the year before, "Have a drink, loosen up, you deserve it."

 

[Kaden Farr]

Kaden hadn’t been around the others a lot since the war had ended. Most of his time had been spent helping to rebuild what had been destroyed, whatever chores Silas could think up, and visiting Yasha in the medical ward. She’d had a near brush with death, at least it had seemed that way. Kaden had never been much of a medical expert. Today was the first he had ventured any attempt to be social, and that was because he needed the change of pace. Besides the party was meant to celebrate the end of the war and the fighting. [member="Malika Mantis"] had said it would be fun.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] was with her when he arrived, though it wasn’t long since the young wolf was growling and yammering at the man hanging from the tree. It was the man who had shot her. Kaden’s face turned with an angry expression. He was about to walk over and give the man a thorough stabbing with the Katars from the gauntlets Kad Tor had made him, but [member="Preliat Mantis"] had beaten him to it.

Kaden laughed when [member="Kal Ordo"] was pulled on. Though his face became serious again when he realized this would be how anyone that mistreated Yasha would be dealt with. The teenager made a mental not to not cross the angry looking father. Kaden wanted to stay on his good side.

When Yasha punched the man Kaden laughed all the more, though he watched as she seemed to still be off balance a bit. Without a thought he moved to her side in case she needed his help. A soft and quiet curse escaped his lips as he didn’t understand why it mattered that he help the one person who had proven she didn’t need it.

”Do you think the food tastes as good as what we hunted lasted time? I think it tastes better when you kill it yourself.”

Kaden looked at Yasha then away. What kind of question was that!? He really hated whatever was happening in his brain and body.

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Malika Mantis"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]

He watched as the blonde woman was tugged along by the little mandolet, his unblinking yellow eyes full of defiance. He defied her beauty, he defied his desire for her and he defied the urge to pull free. His baleful gaze never left the woman as the little pup spewed venom at him. He barely even heard her as he growled low in his throat.

She knew. She knew the stirring of emotion she had caused and came to taunt him with it. He continued to stare blaster bolts at the blonde creature until the child reared back her hand. His first instinct was to pull himself up and choke the brat with his legs. Teach them a lesson for bringing a child to a drug and alcohol fueled feast but it felt out of balance. He had shot her, she wanted to pay him in kind, so he didn't move.

The heavy beskar crushgaunt crashed into his genitals and forced him to yank a knee up and force the binders to cut into his wrist. His stomach turned as the pain radiated through every fiber of his body and he vomited onto his hairy chest and beard. Emotions. She said emotions. She knew too. She was in league with the blonde woman.

He steadied himself long enough to feel the next punch send pain once more through his body and caused him to stifle a scream. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood and paint his lips red. He growled again and pushed his toes back into the dirt to take the strain off his now bleeding wrist. He had expected this. The balance would hold again today.

He looked back at the blonde woman and didn't let the child have the satisfaction of a reply. He face was red with rage and pain. The muscles in his body were tight from desire to fight and the restraint he forced onto himself. As the man drew near Kal finally took his gaze off the woman to look at the man who had joined the festivities.

The man grabbed his tattered rags and pulled him still. Kal stared his yellow eyes into the man's and felt the familiar coldness settle behind his eyes. The man bid him look at the girl as red drool ran dripped from his lip and down his beard. Kal looked and saw the girl, he felt nothing. He returned his yellow gaze to the man's eyes without feeling, only cold defiance. Who was the man? Who was any man? And who gave a kark?

"A man," Kal growled, "A pup that should keep his pup closer."

Kal's grimaced as a small bead of blood ran down his forearm and growled low as he waited to die.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Something had been inside Preliat for many years. Something that he'd kept dormant, under some semblance of control. But when he disregarded what he had done, with no remorse- no forgiveness, no mercy- towards his daughter, it awakened in him. Preliat did not pull his arm off, he pulled the branch that the man was hanging off of, and the man down, with a single powerful tug. He pushed him against the dirt.

His words were cold, harsh, spoken between clenched teeth.

"I have not been a man for many of years, you oxygen thief. You sit accosted, and do nothing. You weak, coward. My name is Preliat Mantis. Despite what others may call themselves, I am the Wolf of Manda'yaim. I was there when the throne of the Sith was broken- not by a Sith, not by a trick of the mind- but by the Mando'ade." His hands wrapped around his collar. He spoke only to him. Mahogany eyes darkened in the light. In the dim light, they almost seemed...purple.

"I was there when Akala sent me to the hellish future. I was there when they wanted to burn our worlds, I was there when the Dark Harvest threatened all life. And I pushed it back, I burned and cut my way through that nightmare."

He stepped back, and held the man upwards, standing him up. His grip tightened. Bare hands. No crushgaunts. He wanted the man to feel the raw power, the red-hot rage flowing through him.

"And this war- which has not only cost me my wife, my unborn son, but made me take the life of my dearest friend, my mentor- but a life robbed of me!"

He turned back to the tree, making the man's back face it.

"And you people dragged my daughter into your madness, your petty war. She has been through enough, I have been through enough. And yet- you, in your infinite cowardice, shot a child. A mere child."

Preliat pulled one leg back.

"Were it anyone else, were it some other weak father, you might've been spared the pain you're about to endure."

Preliat pulled his upper back, and his forearms backwards slightly.

"But you hurt my little girl."

Preliat launched him at the tree. Not so much to throw him at the tree- but to send him through it.

[member="Kal Ordo"]

 

[Jor Kvall]

Men and women danced and clapped around crackling hearths, merry in inebriation, while off to Jor's side, [member="Preliat Mantis"] mercilessly beat [member="Kal Ordo"] as he was tied to a tree. It was an odd juxtaposition of scenes. Jor, for his part, waited at the stool of an outdoor bar, as a collared slave fetched him an order of ale. His attention was drawn to Preliat as he continued to punch the captive Mandalorian, overhearing bits of conversation.

Jor was reminded of a tale he once heard as a young boy. The tale told of an old mystic - bearded, not unlike the one that was currently shackled - who had hung himself from a great tree as a sacrifice intended to learn the secrets of the Force. Jor wasn't sure what lesson Preliat intended his victim to learn tonight. Perhaps there was no lesson at all, only a father's blind rage. Jor found the whole display rather unsettling to the general atmosphere of the celebration, but then again, he had lost no sons or daughters in this battle.

In a sense his struggle was made easier, as his family had already divorced themselves completely from him.

Jor sipped his ale and left the bar. Perhaps he would join in the bolo-ball game later, or simply celebrate by himself. He had won his first battle and taken the lives of many men, so there was much to celebrate.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"Um, I don't know yet, I haven't had any. Kaden... I bet it tastes fine? Kinda had enough of killing for a couple of days... but our hunt did taste pretty good." Yasha gulped, feeling along the thin bandage underneath her borrowed clothes. She felt under-dressed, nothing like the other girls, whose hair was perfect and clothing looked like a holo-show. Truth was, Preliat's daughter had no other clothes... they were all destroyed.





"Daddy." Yasha gasped, putting her arm on [member="Kaden Farr"]'s shoulder. A wash of relief took her clear toward the ground at the sight of her father [member="Preliat Mantis"] alive. Yet, Kaden didn't let her fall down. He never did.





Preliat was enacting his own brand of unhinged vengeance on the man who made his daughter a little less pretty. Yasha felt the stitch in her side, the scar tissue which couldn't be healed by Bacta.





"Daddy!" Yasha wheezed. He didn't want her to fight. The realization struck her with the visceral sight of [member="Kal Ordo"] manhandled like a doll. Her eyes, Preliat's eyes in a young body, watched Kal get pulled, choked, vaulted. She saw the man [member="Aditya Mantis"] told her about, the valiant defender, who gave his soul to save his family. This whole war, Yasha fought to preserve what little family she had left. Yet, Yasha also fought because it was normal to fight, and bleed, and kill every day.





It had been her normal since she remembered, the only memories she had before coming home to Mandalore. Preliat taught his daughter how to play, how to read. He calmed her down when her stutter threatened to pitch her into a panic. He never saw her fight. Yasha did nothing in the Civil War which had not been as regular to her Netherworldly life as breathing. Everyone looked at her like she was some form of broken good. They looked at Yasha as the damaged daughter of a faltering man, a wounded and terrifying horror unleashed.





If Preliat Mantis had been cast into Hell with Aditya and his daughter, Yasha realized she would never have had a single moment to fear. As she huddled into Kaden's side, the fear that Preliat would abandon her, that he would leave her to the side dissipated. Kal Ordo was thrown around.





It was the single largest act of love the girl had seen in her entire life. Her face lost its' panic, her body lost its' pain. Yasha's Daddy loved her, and for this one moment, the universe was in perfect balance.





A six year old once rescued her mother from Hell. She stayed awake for days, cast into artificial light while [member="Ginnie Ordo"] found Preliat to tell him his wife and daughter were alive. She'd said nothing but his name, understanding no Basic, no Mando'a. All the six year old knew was even her father's name would save her. Six years past, Yasha winced her way in front of her father, and raised her arms. Raising her right arm sent pain lacing down her ribcage. She gasped, biting her lip to staunch the emotions Kal's shot brought to the fore.





"Daddy... I need you more than he needs to feel more pain right now."





All she needed was all she had left. An embrace from her father.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Malika smile turned sad at Yash’s question. Would Preliat come tonight? She’d no idea. She’d not yet had the chance to speak properly with her brother in law, to tell him all the things that he needed to know, to hold him and share his grief and anger. Before she could answer, the feral growl from the girl made her look down, following her accusatory glare towards the man swinging from the tree. His eyes were on her. Malika bristled and was tugged along by the angry child so she could exact revenge upon him.

His yellow eyes bore into her, but her blue gaze glared, equally defiant and unwavering as Yasha punched him twice. The explosion of pain across his face bringing a smile to her lips. Malika knew well enough that he could have reacted, but he was wise enough simply to accept it. She dropped her eyes to Yasha, a hand brushing the girl's head and cheek. “Kandosii, Yash’ika.” she said softly.

Before she could scoop the girl up, Preliat swept past them, his rage barely contained. Yasha slid into her friends embrace instead an Malika watched it all, watched the blank slate that was [member="Kal Ordo"]’s face as he looked Preliat and Yasha with nonchalance. If her brother-in-law was looking for a reaction, he was not going to get it.

Yasha’s cries of ‘Daddy’ stirred something in Malika’s chest as Preliat hurled the man against the tree trunk. The white wolf stepped forward, laying a soft hand on Preliat’s forearm. “Udesii, vod.” her words were soft, not accusatory. “His time will come. Yash’ika needs you.” Finger closed about his forearm, squeezing to draw his attention to her fully. “You hear me?”

[member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Yasha Mantis"]

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Malika Mantis"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Jor Kvall"] [member="Atiniir Starrider"]

Kal felt the man's strength as he slammed him face first into the ground and talked in a string of "you small! Me Big!" comments. It was the same kind of thing that half the want-to-be pups on the planet would say. But the man had gettse, he had that in abundance. Kal smiled as he looked up from the ground with a jagged rock piercing his cheek just below his left eye.

He spit blood onto the ground and grinned as the Big Dog pulled him back to his feet. The man raaged about his wife and unborn son, and for a moment Kal felt a twinge of understanding. He had lost, he had spent two centuries losing and it never did get easier. He thought about it for a moment, all the death and pain. Changing names and faces all over the galaxy hoping that it would wash it away. He thought for a moment about how he slowly learned just not to feel at all, and he didn't like being reminded. He snarled and stood as he met the man's dark eyes with his own. This man talked to much, and Kal was ready for the osik bath of life to just be over.

"Sounds like a YOU problem." He slurred through blood, dirt and saliva as the man launched his foot forward and crashed into Kal's chest. He thought he heard bones crack from the impact but couldn't have been sure if he wanted to. His head snapped forward as his body moved back as fast as a speeder crash and stopped abruptly as the veshok tree stopped his flight. The bark of the tree shreaded his undershirt and flayed skin from his back in strips as he was pounded into the tree. Had it been a weaker or even smaller tree it would have likely split from the impact and that would have been far better for the Gurlanin. As it was his organs would be lucky if they didn't simultaniously rupture. He slowly fell forward from the tree and into the dirt.

His back, ribs, neck, head and most everything contained between cried out simulataniously in objection to what they had just endured. He lay face down in the dirt and blood with his hands still bound together and stuck beneath his body. He wasn't sure if he was concsious or not when he began couging something red and filled with chunks of things he didn't want to know onto the ground.

"Done, yet?" he half moaned half whispered but then he could have just imagined the sound making it out as he resigned himself to lay there for now. If he was lucky...they'd leave him alone to march away quietly. Somehow he didn't think luck existed.

 

[H3xle]

- As Jayde Khala -​

​

Jayde paced around the edge of the celebration, feeling the warmth from the fire and the camaraderie, but not entirely part of it. The smile on her face reached her eyes, she laughed, and conversed with the vod she passed as she walked, but it didn't pierce far inside. The smile only went skin deep, held from getting any deeper by the coldness she felt inside.

The war was over, the insurrection by those loyal to the Liberator was run to ground, many of it's leaders killed or captured. That did not erase the toll the war took, no matter how short it had been. As she looked around, Jayde saw others in similar predicaments, the slight void behind the eyes. It followed every war, and Mandalorians knew how to get past it, but even so it took time.

Jayde slid in towards a fire a grabbed some food. She had a flask of liquor on her hip, so her hands were free to carry the food and eat while she walked. A certain tree came into view as she rounded a curve. A group of people stood near it, and she could see the one who was hung by his hand. Nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed as she walked in that direction. The smile never left her face, but it receded from her eyes, replaced by a strange dichotomy of the fires of rage and the cold void that gripped her heart.

As she neared, she identified several of the people who were there, including one of Mand'alor's wards and a couple other Mantises. It looked like they were entertaining the prisoner enough on their own. Jayde moved to a nearby tree, well within hearing, and leaned against it as she ate.

She happened to be down wind of the prisoner, making the smells of her food waft tantalizingly towards [member="kal ordo"]. Her eyes moved from person to person, but she said nothing as she ate, smooth, methodical movements putting the delicious food into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed with equal regularity, but it didn't seem like she tasted any of it.

[member="Malika Mantis"] | [member="preliat mantis"] | [member="yasha mantis"] | [member="kaden farr"]​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Just like that a entire civil war is ended in a day, the entire opposition crushed under the foot of death watch. Where did Stardust even sit? Raxis was never accepted among the clans, not after what Jack raxis had done attacking ra...

Better question, why was she walking right up to this party. She never fought in this civil war! She didn't fight for neither side but her own. Though her mind was set and away she went leaving behind her sabers and swords with just her westars setting in their holsters...ahe could here the music and smell the food, she stopped a second as if to reconsider her options before she stood tall and took a breath in

She couldn't make up anything if she didn't try to talk with the clans again, after all they were vod...first family she actually ever had, she remembered her mother saying once 'you can't complain how things are then not fix them when you can' well...she believed those words more then ever now

She took a breath as she entered the party, she looked as she got many glance to her, sneers and whispers as they went on to ignore her. She ignored them and took a seat

Fixings things started with trying, she hoped this time she was successful

 

[Kaden Farr]

It was clear to Kaden that Yasha was not in need of what he could provide for her in the moment. He could be nothing more than a reprieve from the angst which was gathering around them all, or he could be companion and friend for bood times and bad alike. What Kaden could not be was the father figure she desperately wanted and needed.

He had never known her father. Since Kaden came into her life by helping to keep Silas from bleeding out when he lost his arm, [member="Preliat Mantis"] had not been around. Kaden knew [member="Silas Mantis"], the younger brother had taken Kaden as his ward. [member="Yasha Mantis"] had become his friend rather quickly. [member="Malika Mantis"] was new to Kaden also, but still not as new to him as the father.

Yasha cried out for her Daddy. She wanted his affection. Instead the man was beating her would be killer to a bloody mess. HIs daughter was standing right there, calling for him, and it seemed as though she wasn't even present. This made Kaden feel hurt inside.

Malika confronted him. Kaden would have if she had not. For now, Kaden just stayed with Yasha. Was it an odd thing that Kaden felt he deserved the right to be with her at the moment. It had been Kaden who was with her when her father was missing. Kaden had been the one to carry her to safety when she was shot. Kaden was the one to be at her bedside when she woke up from the bacta treatments.

Kaden put a hand on Yasha's shoulder. He wanted to try and explain, but wasn't sure he could.

"He hasn't let go of his grief..." It was all Kaden knew to say. Kaden recognized it. It was the same intensity he and Yasha had both had in regards to bringing Mia Monroe a quick death. The only difference was now that the war was over the two were trying to move on. Preliat seemed to be held a prisoner by his grief.

 

[Kaden Farr]

double post again...

 

[Jor Kvall]

In what seemed like only a few moments, Jor's ale was half finished. He found refreshment from it despite the brutality that was occuring only yards away. Blood feuds ran deep among Mandalorians, and there was no such thing as a forgotten offense. Forgiven, perhaps, but never forgotten. Some took this behavior to the extreme. Jor was no stranger to violence himself, but he almost wished that [member="Preliat Mantis"] would get it over with and mercy kill [member="Kal Ordo"] for the sake of the festivities, and the old man's own honor. Kal might have been an enemy, but at least he took his beating like a man. That much could be said of him, and Jor respected that.

As that scene appeared to be dying down, Jor moved over to the banquet tables. He needed food to go with his drink. He filled not one, but two plates, with meat and vegetables, and set the second plate at an empty seat next to him.

"This seat is for my unnamed brother who defended the Mountain Fortress in the cold north alongside me," He announced to the table. "He died with his honor."

There were many others that died beside him in the battle, but Jor thought of one in particular that had helped him toss grenades at the assaulting Insurrectionists before being pierced through the helmet with a blaster bolt.

 

[Zef Halo]

The war won, the true sons and daughters of Mandalore - victorious.

It came without question that celebrations would be dotting the whole planet. The biggest one was without a question the one Fett had ended up at - Keldabe, where Mand'alor was expected.

The celebration was one of the very rare occasions one could see Caius without his helmet. The massive figure of Fett made its way through the crowd as their attention had gathered around a dar'manda being beaten by a Mantis. Caius left his bottle of ne'tra gal in the hands of a youth and made his way calmly to where the old man laid in a mess of blood.

Without uttering a word, Fett passed by Mantis and put his hands on the rope that tied the victim's wrists. He yanked it tighter and then tossed the rope on a stronger branch, tying its end in a way that implied it was not his first time doing such action.

Observing the result of his quick 'fixing' work and not glancing at [member="Preliat Mantis"] ' direction, he simply uttered before yanking the rope and pulling the dar'manda back up to hang on the tree:

"Plenty of reasons to celebrate. Save your fury for something worth it."

Beating a dead horse did not fall in the category of things worth it.

[member="Kal Ordo"] | [member="Vila Sayne"] | [member="Malika Mantis"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"] | @Spice'alorians​

 

[Silas Mantis]

​"He never has I'm afraid. But he knows we are here, and that we are at his side now and always." Came a voice softly from behind [member="Kaden Farr"], as the last wolf missing from the pack gathering arrived at the scene of [member="Kal Ordo"]'s beating at the hands of [member="Preliat Mantis"]. His brother had beaten him to the punch quite literally.

Crutch under one arm, Silas was sans the top half of his armor, his battered ribcage wrapped in bandages over the undersuit. The woman he'd killed had put up a fight, and despite who she'd fought for, he supposed she died with honor which in and of itself was a reward to their people. It was redemption in a way, after all, he'd seen to it she'd found a place upon a pyre for a proper Mandalorian funeral.

"How did you fare Kaden?" He questioned his ward, interested in how the boy he'd taken in, and watched grow into a man, had held up in the final battle of the war. He and [member="Yasha Mantis"] had long since proven their skill as warriors of Mand'alor, even before their verd'gotens, Narir too.

"Have to get you and Mand'alor the Small some proper armor, it's high time." He added with a smile. Obtaining one's armor was of great significance, and while he partially brought up the subject because he felt they had earned the honor, it was also out of concern for their safety. Eyes flicking to [member="Malika Mantis"], Silas raised an eyebrow. He hadn't seen her 'face' in years, she'd been happily living with Tristan raising an infant Fenn last he'd heard. Why was she here now?

Taking a swig from the cup of ale he held in his other hand, Silas hoped to steel his nerves against what he could only suspect was going to be a painful tale. Perhaps he was being cynical, but fate so very rarely was kind to their family, and as such he could only expect the worst.

 

[Ra Vizsla]

Ra walked into the celebration quietly. As several Mando'ade began to chant his name, Ra lowered his hand, gesturing them not to. Tonight was not Ra's celebration. It was Mandalore's.

He bore no armor, remaining shirtless this cold night with his leather-skinned pants, but the Undying bore the fresh wounds from the war still. A crossed scar upon his left eye, from the Sith warrior. A gaping slice across the left side of his abdomen. A gunshot wound on his shoulder, from the Liberator's assassin. Several smaller wounds from the beskar shortsword upon his forearms from the Liberator herself.

And the scars. From the time before. Pounds of flesh given for Manda'yaim, the Great Mother.

He quietly found a simple seat near one of the fires, turning his back to the fight going on behind him. Remaining quiet and tending to himself, the Undying picked up a stick and began stoking the fire.

The roars of those watching the fight erupted behind them, but the Mand'alor remained undisturbed, clearly deep in thought.

​

A pack of deathsticks and a pouch of dreamdust found its way onto his lap.​