The Season's Upon Us

[Arage Bao]

It was always a disappointment when expectations weren’t met.

Ronan Vizsla had never been much of a believer in the Empire’s Mand’alor, but him and his had followed him regardless.

Not because of the Resol’nare, not because Verd was such an inspiring leader and not even because the Mandalorian Clans were much akin to a sleeping hippopotamus these days. No, it was simply because the Empire had some kind of potential in terms of bounty, territory gains and all that came with it.

Vizsla did not consider it to be greed.

It was simple pragmatism and the best option for his Clan.

But his people had spoken, even if it was only in whispers, and they spoke of disappointment. Ronan might be the Aliit'buir, but he would not ignore the call of his brothers and sisters. They were no longer interested in this new Empire in the making and so Vizsla heeded their wishes.

They left Dantooine.

Salvaging what they could and leaving the rest behind for other settlers to reuse, perhaps.

Instead they hired a cargo hauler with a destination unknown. Him and his were not completely sure where they would go, the UMC didn’t seem any better than the Empire.

But something would come to him.

Something always did.

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Ovmar]

A fresh pack of adolescent vornskr were filling the cargo hold with there baying as a fight started among them. Cooped up in such a small space tempers flared and the former Mand'alor had her hands full keeping them from ripping each other apart. A whip cracked in her hand, hard enough to bruise but not cut through flesh. "Gev!" She barked, shoving those who circled the fight aside, with sharp kicks, her hybrid on her heels snapping at those who dared to disagree with her rule. She seized the two hounds by the scrufs of their necks and pulled them apart, reenforcing her command mentally.

"So help me, I will cast both of you out of the air lock and sedate the rest of you if you continue this incessant bickering!" She snarled at them. After several moments of trying to fight against her strength to reach each other with snapping jaws they submitted, laying low on the ground and whimpering. Silence gradually fell over them and Mia rose to her feet. "That's better."

Turning on her heel, Mia moved to the gate of the makeshift pen, Shadow on her heels. "Stay here, Shadow and keep them in line." The hybrid whined at her as she shut the gate on him and she offered a reassuring smile before clipping the whip back to her belt and crossing the large cargo hold. The crew of the ship paid her little mind. As noisy as her cargo might be, she'd paid her way and that was all that mattered to the ships captain and, in turn, it's crew.

She climbed three steps before halting, spotting the familiar glint of t-visors and beskargam. What an earthen were a group of mandalorians doing on a cargo ship heading out of mandalorian controlled space. She wouldn't have raised the question had it been a handful, but this seemed to be an entire clan. She clicked her tongue, ignoring the voice that told her to stay out of it and opted for being nosy instead. Boots clanging back down the steps she crossed over to them confidently and with an air of purpose.

"Su cuy'gar." She greeted without a smile. "An awful lot of you moving in the opposite direction of home is there not?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Mia Monroe"]

“Same could be said of you, vod.” One of the figures detached himself from the crowd of armor, t-visors and beskar. This one was not wearing his beskar'gam though, instead opting for a more lightweight approach. Not a war, not a battlefield and if they ended up in a close-quarters situation he would want all the mobility he could get.

It was clear that this one was the leader of the metaphorical pack. The others didn’t shy away as much as make room for him without a second thought, some watching silently at the conversation, while others already lost interest and continued on doing what they had been doing.

Ronan studied the woman in front of him.

The smell of the Force was palpable in the air, as was the experience radiating from her. She walked with purpose, observed with that same kind of purpose and Vizsla had the feeling she was already analyzing the situation for combat efficiency.

But the Mandalorian did not recognize her. Which didn’t mean much, they were a people of plenty, it wasn’t expected to recognize all their brothers and sisters in the wild.

“Have you come to break bread with us then?”

An offer of succor, one of the oldest warrior traditions. There would be no hostilities for as long as the trip extended, if taken.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Mia smiled. "Aye, but there's only one of me. And I left home behind a long time ago." To refuse the offer placed before would have been rude, even in her books so she shrugged. "Sure, why not." Perhaps she'd gain someone to talk to that didn't whine or growl in response, though even for mandalorians, that was still a possibility.

Stepping forward she extended her hand. "Mia Monroe." Whatever impact revealing her would or would not have, she made a point of ignoring. "Where are you heading?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]