The Tale of Kalevala (Jor)

[Yasha Cadera]

The Tale of Kalevala
The Infernal's War Tent

The thermal walls shielded Yasha Mantis from the desert’s cold nightfall, illumination globes shimmering with yellow-orange simulated fire light. Yasha’s cot resided along the side, sequestered from the bunks habituated by her Guard.

A gigantic black wolf languished on the carpet, raising his massive snout to sniff the air. [member="Ambrose Mantis"], in his natural form. Yasha stretched her lithe neck as Tuulu stoked the fire in the middle of their tent, and the Infernal placed her wolf-helm on its’ armour stand. Her gauntlets propped on their place on the stand, and Yasha slowly rolled her wrists. Tamar, a raven headed Epicanthix of Panathan origins, poured cups of tea all round, serving them up as Yasha sniffed hers and nodded.

“Thank you, Tamar. Go enjoy the revelry, while you can.”

“Ma’am?”

“Go on. You, too, Tuulu.” Once the others were gone, the Infernal knew [member="Jor Kvall"] would show. The flaps of the tent shut with a magnetic ‘chunk’, as Yasha slumped in one of the three large chairs in front of the fire.

Jor had questions, and as one of the old guard, Yasha knew he was owed his answers. Ambrose’s mighty head raised, plunking down on Yasha’s lap for a comfort-pet. She sipped her tea, another mug waiting Jor’s empty seat, and let the fatigue of the day draw on her beautiful, yet severe face.

 

[Jor Kvall]

Kalevala moaned outside, winds whipping at the flaps of Yasha's tent. The evening breeze was a welcome addition at first, as the temperatures dropped and cooled the Mandalorians who had toiled all day to restart this planet's heart. Yet soon it would become frightfully cold here, where getting caught outside unprepared would carry severe consequences. A chill not unlike the eyes of Jor Kvall, their icy hues often betraying never the slightest hint of deep emotion or feeling. Tonight was different. He had tread down this path far too long.

The tent's magnetic flaps opened suddenly once again, to reveal Jor's form standing between them, the moon at his back, his spiked bone beskar casting a jagged silhouette on the ground in front of him, cut from the moonlight. There was [member="Yasha Mantis"], as promised, though her current slump was much less regal-looking than before. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. She was not quite alone either; the wolf was beside her, no doubt the true form of her house companion.

"Greetings, Mand'alor," Jor uttered lowly, the day's toil still evident on his face as well, his right cheek still covered in dirt with caked blood underneath his eye.

There was already a seat made for him, so he took it.

"I appreciate your candor in meeting with me." The second drink on the table was noticed. "A kind gesture, but I have no thirst at this time."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

While she waited for [member="Jor Kvall"], Yasha continued to look over the results of her last soil study. She pushed her thumb and index finger onto the sides of her nose. Twenty eight hours… another hour or so and she might sleep. The affairs of state laid heavy on her shoulders, yet the burden was accomplishable.

Setting the data pad down, Yasha sat up as Alor Kvall stormed in, as severe as the Kalevala weather, which formed him. Ambrose raised his head, then set it back down with a yawn.

“Su cuy’gar, Alor Kvall.” Yasha nodded, held in a breath, and waited for him to sit down. If he didn’t want tea, it was there. Yet, this was not a social visit. “You have the right. You and Clan Kvall have been here since the beginning of the Empire, and there is much which must be upon your mind.”

The beginning of the Mandalorian Empire was a wealth of ill tidings, raids, double-crosses on clients and tension caused by the Undying's early disappearance. Much settled, yet there was always more.

 

[Jor Kvall]

Jor nodded along with Yasha's recognition of House Kvall. He was but a young warrior from an outcast House when he chose to follow Ra Vizsla into battle, a unilateral decision that was against the wishes of his entire family. His gambit worked by virtue of the fact that he was Alor now, and House Kvall now had more influence and recognition with Mand'alor than they ever did within the past hundred years - which was to say, none. Jor, young and foolish, thought that his mission would be mostly over if he could merely accomplish that much.

As he became further entrenched in the inner politics of Mandalorian - and by extension, galactic - politics, he realized how wrong he was.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] could probably see the conflict in his eyes. Stony and severe, the usual expression to be found amongst the hardy, simply people of the Kvall, yet behind his icy orbs there seemed to churn a thousand wheels of thought. To say he was troubled was easily perceptible. How much could he ask before his search for knowledge led him to destruction? But Yasha was right. He fought and bled for Mandalore the Undying. He had a right to know what he fought for.

"By now the rumors have spread for some time," Kvall said after a pregnant pause, focusing his gaze upon Yasha. "About Ra, his ties to Carnifex. But as you know, rumors have a way of decorating themselves when passing from mouth to mouth."

He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Well, I want to know what happened. All of it."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Mand’alor the Infernal knew the night would come, elements outside howling at the fragile walls constructed to keep them at bay. She held fast for the Accuser to enter her bower, cold uncomfortable eyes holding no mercy, no pity. As sterile as a t-visor before the execution. Yasha produced a signal jammer, and flicked it on.

“All I divulge is to be kept secret and unrepeated in any form or method. Mandalore’s future depends upon its’ secrecy, and thus I command you tell, record, or express none of what I shall say.” One would come, and desire the answers good and evil vode died to receive. A young woman heaved in her chair, forearms akimbo upon the chair’s arms. Her lovely face contorted in the severe and calculated ruler, who commanded millions and conquered planet, nebulae and cataclysm alike. The amber eyes which crawled to [member="Jor Kvall"]’s face held inside them an ever sparking fire.

“By three months of age, I was tossed into the Netherworld with my frightened arueti mother. I was raised in the Chaos for six years, surviving on blood rivers, and whatever prey we could slaughter. For a while, mother followed the tracks of a King of her People, who also lingered in that unholy place. Kaine Zambrano’s shadow kept us alive long enough for her to teach me how to be silent and hide… I rescued my mother from those pits. I met my father, and a few years of acclimatizing later, the Cataclysm stole my mother from me, as it stole many. This sounds like a ramble, but Kvall, it has meaning…

Upon meeting the Undying, I recognized a… kindred spirit in him. I could tell the aging Gurlanin had been where I grew up. It is the reason why he never intimidated me, why I took to carrying his spear and making myself useful. I was small, I could fit in spaces vode could not. I could kill quietly, hide and kill again. It was what I knew, but he feared it… did you ever notice him sitting by the fires, Jor? Stoking the flames. Even in the Palace, he would sit and muse upon the greater reason Manda brought him back to life. There must have been more, more than the Cataclysm and Monroe’s villainy, another reason that would spread across the Galaxy like a crimson ocean leaving nothing but stained bones.”

The caustic wind billowed, bashing at the fluctuant walls of the war tent. Yasha sipped her tea, clearing her throat. “Ra never knew. He truly believed Manda brought him back to us. He was a devoutly religious man, a fervour I share, after experiencing such things for myself.”

The empty tea mug clanked down on the table. “There is only one of whom I bear witness to being resurrected by Manda, and her name is [member="Ginnie Dib"]. Others noticed something off with the Undying, I was close to him, studying under him, for they repeated in my ear every day, every hour that someday decades from then Mandalore would be my responsibility, and if I was not ready for it… the cataclysm would look like foreplay. They didn’t listen, when I mentioned how I knew where he’d been, because I too was there… and I continued to worship my beloved Guardian and Mand’alor… he rewarded me with the opportunity to stand by his side for a treaty negotiation. It was after the War, I was wearing my beskar’gam for the first time… proudly standing behind and beside him, dwarfed utterly by the mammoth men in the room.

I saw the Dark Lord, and in my youth I spoke to him in our mutual native tongue, Epicant. He smiled down at me, offered his hand… and I recognized the sensation I felt pouring off Ra. I told Ra, but… it was not long after when he assigned me to the Cuir Rekr and disappeared. I knew, Jor. I knew Darth Carnifex had a hand in the Undying’s resurrection, but I could prove nothing… so when I prepared for my Verd’goten, I demanded one fit for Katlaydr. The Dominion of Dathomir, on the surface, was an attempt to cleanse the Witches, but I had a greater purpose. Ra taught me much of the Mandalorian histories, and the Nightfather Ember Rekali was the wisest of all exiled vode. He would come. If we took the Warlock Gate, his Gate, and we rounded up the Witches, he would come. If any held the knowledge of resurrection, it was Rekali. He came, and we negotiated the cease fire, Dathomir’s freedom for a Mandalorian presence at the Gate, and use of the space lanes… if he gave me proof, taught me what he knew. Before that proof came to my ears, Rekali ventured back through the Gate, and I dove into the Chaos, trudging through horrors for seven years, before he gave me the information I sought. Yet… Ember sent me back to the minute I left Dathomir. Seven years older, in a blink and flash of light. We lost Malika and Aryn over Utapau, my father abandoned Mandalore to become a tourist, and I challenged Kaine Zambrano upon a derelict space station along our border with the evidence I found. There, the Lord of the Sith acknowledged all.

Using clone-meat from DNA taken through the Omega Crisis, Darth Carnifex cloned Ra Vizsla, and utilized Dark Transference to implant Ra’s beleaguered and punished soul back into a living vessel. He desired an alliance between Mandalore and the Sith Empire, one which would last for centuries, we the loyal and capable soldiers, and they the mystics. The aggression and dictates of the Undying were implanted desires from the puppet master, who recreated him in his own skewed image… and Vilaz Munin helped Carnifex do it. Vilaz knew, and cautioned me to accept the marriage proposal of Ancius, when the next morning, word came that Malika was dead, killed by what seemed to be Darth Carnifex’s own apprentice… and so she was, for the apprentice betrayed the Emperor to kindle a war between Mandalore and the Outer Rim Coalition. Malika and Aryn dead, Preliat gone, and Vilaz and I all that were left of Ra’s totalitarian government, I moved quickly to attempt damage control… and a pair of wrist rockets blew up my attempts at reconciliation in my face. Vilaz escaped to Carnifex’s protective hedges, as did most of Clan Vizsla. I admit in my youth I handled it poorly, but with the secret of the Undying known only to three, I had to act as fast as possible to staunch the wounds and strengthen the Empire… for I knew if we showed weakness in those mean weeks, Carnifex would billow over us and we all would be his slaves. The Undying was meant to surge upon the galaxy and destroy as much of the old ways as he could. To throttle the Force Users into submission, while the Sith Empire kept the only strong supply.

Knowing this, I focussed on bridging new economic treaties with our Southern neighbours, and bringing an influx of finances to fund the ecological reconstruction of Mandalore. Meanwhile, Australis focussed on expanding our outdated and abandoned navy and military… All in preparation for the days to come, where we shall fight to continue our Mando’ade without a Master’s boot on our necks. This is the Infernal's Empire, not the Sith Lord's. I will do what is required to continually ensure the independence of Mandalore… but I cannot do it alone.”

 

[Jor Kvall]

Jor sat silently, listening to the entire monologue. Momentary inclinations to interrupt were immediately cut off as [member="Yasha Mantis"] continued further still, the story taking twist after turn. With every new word a feeling of disgust continued to rise in him, as his worst suspicions were confirmed. In the back of his mind, he had for some time believed the stories about Ra and Carnifex to be true, but finally hearing the confirmation of his theories did not carry the vindication he imagined it would. He, in the throes of youth, had nearly died for Ra Vizsla, and had once believed every word of his resurrection tale. To see the one who he would have followed into the jaws of death unmasked as nothing more than a puppet - a fraud - still cut deep. Though Jor could not find the anger for him that he thought he would be able to muster. It seemed Ra a had been an unwitting pawn just as he had, strapped into the same ride with no control over its course or direction. In the end, Jor's father, who had cautioned him from ever leaving Kalevala and joining the Death Watch, had been right.

Yasha's monologue was almost too much to process at once. Shaking his head, Jor sighed and sank back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. At the end was an offer for comradeship, of sorts. That was the only thing he could focus on right now.

"Let's forget all these other matters for a moment," He finally sat forward and gave a sweep of his hand. "I have no reason to doubt what you say is true; you know the Emperor better than most, and my own research has led me to the same conclusions. The Sith Emperor has been hard at work to exert control over us for some time."

Stroking his beard, Jor wondered how much he could accuse of Mand'alor without things turning volatile. He had very little power to wield in this scenario, and House Kvall could easily find itself exiled again. But Jor sensed a bit of the same desperation in Yasha, too; here was a woman in search of allies, whose rule had been tenuous and contested from the start.

"What I want to know is, what's your plan on stopping him? And how does your marriage to the Emperor's son work toward freeing us from the Sith yoke?"

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Marriage? There is no marriage on the table.” Yasha’s brows curled together in a furrowed knot. Once more the new kinship she felt with Alvarex became a moment of inspection. “As I told Carnifex, I was married and widowed at 20. I will put myself through no marriage of political convenience. Nothing short of the abject love of another Mando’ad will send me down a Riduurok’s Road. My body is mine. He cannot use or have it.”

“Must I bind myself in marriage to a Mando’ad to assuage rumours?” A growl snapped at the relative warmth of the tent, the Gurlanin’s ears swept back against his skull. Yet, it was not Ambrose’s growl. Yasha’s face contorted in a vicious mask.

“No one tells me who I may bed. My body is not for politics. Alvarex was… an unexpected but chaste anomaly. What transpired at the Ball was new, but it was no prelude to a wedding. I will not have him, unless the time spent revealed a man willing to deny his family to become a Mandalorian and prove himself in our ways, in our battles. [member="Lady Kay"] has guided me enough through the foibles of what transpired. You know why I had to be in the middle of the ball.”

A hand to her brow, Yasha pulled to her feet. [member="Jor Kvall"]

“Carnifex knows that a strong Mandalore is an enemy he could defeat only through opening himself to attack from his many opponents. He would have to resort to glassing worlds, mass genocides, and he knows we now have the means of moving our people via our expanding navy. Our efforts at terraforming mean even a glassed world will not beat us. We continue to rebuild. We make ourselves so strong, he wouldn’t dare push first… and we keep his little Mandalorian Clans at bay. They are the volatile ones, should we keep them out of our business, we know how to defeat him. I have had… whispered offers from certain governments surrounding us of aide, should we strike the Sith in a direct assault. A direct assault would be a bloodbath… strengthening our position, entrenching and continuing to focus on our own development in our territories keeps Carnifex off our backs. He cannot manipulate me into marrying his son, Jor. I continue to do my part, taking gauge of him on Bastion, or via Holo, Commenor was a blow. He knows I am far from contented by the treatment of my Aunt and her People… but ultimately, the Wue’gi Vod Council was firm.”

 

[Jor Kvall]

When [member="Yasha Mantis"] appeared indignant about the notion of a political marriage, Jor only sat back calmly and studied her expression. He must have heard wrongly, because he had thought an arranged marriage between her and the Emperor's son had at least been discussed. She seemed averse to the idea of marrying a fellow Mandalorian to squash any rumors, but Jor merely shrugged. That would actually be quite an appropriate thing to do, he thought. FIrst of all, the notion of Mand'alor marrying a non-Mandalorian was a blasphemous prospect. Additionally, there was an added danger in Jor's mind because both Yasha and the Zambrano prince were both Epicanthix. How much racial affinity did Yasha have, and did it trump, or in any way affect, her duties as Mand'alor? Again, the problem of racial outbreeding amongst Mandalorian clans reared its ugly head.

Yasha seemed to take exception to the idea of a political marriage, whether to Mandalorian or otherwise. This attitude would not suit her well in the position she was in, Jor thought. She was still grappling with the fact that she was not merely a free warrior anymore. She now spoke for an entire people, whose well-being depended on her.

"If I may be frank for a moment. Sometimes leaders must make sacrifices for the greater good, Yasha. Sometimes one must sacrifice even love."

That was all he would say on the subject. Instead, Jor leaned in again. The Alor of House Kvall would swear no oaths tonight unless they were on his terms. A treacherously broken pact was the height of dishonor, and so he would be careful to make one that he would not break. His eyes met hers again.

"I was played for the fool once by Ra Vizsla, young as I was. I refuse to let that happen again. So my terms are simple. If you swear never to marry the Zambrano son, I and all of my House will follow you into the gates of hell against the Sith Empire."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“You speak verbatim the words the Dark Lord had for me, when he sat me down on Bastion and attempted to get me to marry his son. He made a display of his nine wives, those he married for political sake, but twice.” The chair groaned as Yasha’s seven foot bulk sat upon it, Ambrose rising up to pad over to Jor and growl. “I refused his offer of political marriage. My body is my own.”

“And who would she marry in the Mando’ade? Why would she deny her sensual freedom for political gain?” [member="Ambrose Mantis"]’ telepathic voice was thick and grotesquely guttural, a roar of violence seeping into the air, and into [member="Jor Kvall"]’s conscious mind. “Her riduur was Mando’ade, her daughter a joining of Mandalorian human and Epicanthix. Would you push her to that bed? Impregnate and ruin her for marriage outside the Mando’ade? Would it put you at ease if she married some Australis? A Farr or Skirata? You would not ask thus if she were a man. For a woman to live without riduur appears to be blasphemy. Are we so deficit in repopulation that even the Mand’alor must breed without ceasing?”

“Settle down, Ambrose. I can speak for myself.” Yasha raised her hand, brushing it on Ambrose’s fur. “Ambrose kept me warm, when I was alone as a child, no tent of my own in the war camp. I was his pup, and he was my keeper. That bond fades not with time.”

Ambrose continued to growl, but Yasha’s fingers running through his fur subsided the anger boiling in his body. Once again, the Mando’ade asked more of her. Her blood wasn’t enough, nor were her youngest years given in loyalty to the Vode. They wanted control of her womb, to have her tasted and fondled by none but them. Yasha’s face hardened, her full black lips pouting in a beautiful, but severe frown.

“I give you my word, upon the Manda, and Kad Harang’ir Himself, Mand’alor the Infernal shall never marry a son of any House but one of the Mando’ade. I shall give myself only to one of the Vode, as is required by my People.” Her heart sank in her chest, fingers clawing at the arms of the chair. “I would give even my happiness for the betterment of the Mando’ade… but I do find the celibate road tiresome.”

 

[Jor Kvall]

"The difference between us is," Jor said plainly, in response to her statement about the Dark Lord, "I'm on Mandalore's side."

Was Carnifex?

Attention then shifted to the wolf at Yasha's side. Jor followed his monologue and said nothing, letting him finish.

"You're wrong, Ambrose. I demand the very same of myself. And anyone who chances to call themselves Alor. And most of all, Mand'alor," He responded calmly. It was no secret that Jor himself had yet to take a wife. Especially amongst the Kvall, it would be of the utmost impropriety if he was seen taking a non-Mandalorian wife. Ambrose seemed to have gotten him wrong, though. He wasn't demanding Yasha breed endlessly, but rather the opposite; certain pairings were politically dangerous, and this was one of them.

However, the important matter at hand was now settled. [member="Yasha Mantis"] seemed to agree with him, however begrudgingly. As much as she hated to admit it, she seemed to be aware of the inherent danger in consorting with the Emperor's son. Jor stood up and reached across the table.

"I will ride with you in battle, then," He said with his gauntlet-clad hand outstretched. Then, an addition, "The mark of heroism sometimes demands we sacrifice personal gratification for a greater purpose."

Jor hadn't taken his ice-eyes away from Yasha. He found Mand'alor's repudiation of her celibacy rather melodramatic in this moment; surely she knew that a few moments of coital bliss were not worth sacrificing the right course of action, especially when she could find it in many other places. But he sympathized with her plight. To be Mand'alor was to make personal concessions for the good of the tribe, and sometimes, that meant spending one's nights without the embrace of a lover. His bearded face remained stony but calm, a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"Though you needn't be without it forever."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Yes. All of us here are on Mandalore’s side.” Yasha sat straight in her chair, stifling the fatigue present in her visage. She wanted a few hours sleep, a warm bed until the business of state threw her back into her frantic pace.

“I will chew the brains of any inferior man, who attempts to take my Infernal for their own pleasure. She has suffered too much already. If she wants to take a lover, it his her prerogative alone to choose the one. Find yourself a wife, then. There are many women in the Mando’ade who fight well and make good mothers.” Ambrose watched [member="Jor Kvall"] stand, keeping his snout even with the man. Being an eleven foot long wolf did help to intimidate.

Yasha pushed to her feet, taking Jor’s hand and crushing it with a firm and aggressive handshake. “I have sacrificed life and years gladly for our People, Kvall. I continue to sacrifice still. We will ensure our future is one of independence from Aruetise interference. I…”

Letting go of Jor’s hand, a pink flush took to her cheeks. “I… my mind slipped. The evening’s tihaar, it unsettled my tongue. We are both young, our lives are to be full of pleasures beyond the stringencies of war. Ride with me into battle on Ithor, Jor. The Ithorians desire aide in stopping a usurping force, who would destroy the forests.”

Pushing her thumb and index fingers into the notches between her nose, Yasha shook another yawn out of her head. “You are devout, Kvall… There has been a… lack of proper worship on Mandalore of late. Perhaps you might take some time to entreat on Mandalore, and help me rebuild our religious centres? You are welcome to stay in the Sundari Palace, whenever you have need. It is open to you.”

 

[Jor Kvall]

The momentary slip of the tongue was blamed on tihaar, that age-old culprit. Perhaps it was true; no one would say the Mandalorians did not know how to drink and feast. But [member="Yasha Mantis"] betrayed a sincerity in her voice that let Jor know her remark revealed at least a part of her true feelings. She did not want to be alone - and who did? But she was correct; the two of them still held their youth, and assuredly she would find a suitable mate with time. As for Jor's desires, he yearned after no pleasures. Each moment of conflict and suffering was the fuel that made him stronger. If he could one day die a heroic death and leave behind an heir to sing his song, he he would consider his life well-lived.

Ambrose was, for the moment, ignored. Jor nodded to Yasha, accepting her proposal.

"I will journey to Ithor with you, then."

The conversation then shifted to the religious enclaves on Mandalore. A stay at Sundari Palace was a tempting offer indeed; the beds there were most assuredly warmer than his chambers on Krownest. To compensate, he would have to train extra hard in the palace if he chose to stay.

"I don't know of many Mandalorians who revere the old Gods," He said. "So much of our old culture, gone."

Jor was flattered that Yasha would consider him for such an opportunity.

"Consider my presence at Sundari Palace guaranteed."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“I have just the task for you on Ithor. There is a Commander named Yronwulfr, who will be leading our incursion force to prevent the destruction of the Atmospheric cities. Stand beside him, [member="Jor Kvall"]. As his second in command. Let these threats understand that Mandalore does not kneel.” Hands at her sides, Yasha watched the caution and hardness on the man’s face. He was an odd one, spartan and cold as the unforgiving weather on his homeworld.

Yet, who better to remember the old ways?

“How could I deny the gods, when one of them ripped my soul from my body, for safe keeping?” Yasha pursed her lips, glancing to the wind billowing in through the tent flaps. “I might have stories to tell of my time in the Chaos… How else do you think a little girl survived that place, if not being taught? We can bring the culture back, Jor. As a child, I sat at the feet of warriors long dead, in the Field of Blades where we fight without ceasing. Those who chose not to enter Manda were there, endless in battle, teaching those who would listen by trading tales by the fire. We can bring it back. Just as we are bringing back Kalevala. Just as we brought back Mandalore. You are devout, and of my generation. Who better to bring our young ones and our compatriots to the glory of Kad Haran’gir and the others?”

He accepted, and Yasha nodded with a fatigued smile. “I shall look forward to having you in my hall, Alor Kvall. We shall bring Mandalore to a place of plenty. I will prove it all to you, yet.”

Exhaustion pulled at her shoulders and eyelids, as the reveries outside and in the other tents were still raging upon the Kalevala night. Many would party until morning, sip stimcaf in gulps and continue on their way. A few hours sleep… that would do the Infernal well.

Tuulu re-entered the tent, snapped to a salute to Alor Kvall and Yasha, and rushed to Yasha’s side. “Mand’alor, the report on Taris. General Sigurd is waiting your response on his campaign.”

Stifling her yawn, Yasha walked over and picked up Jor’s tea, gulping it down. “Yes… yes of course. Give Kvall the intel on Ithor, Tuulu. Fill him in.”

“You should sleep, rekr’ika.”

“I have tea, I’ll be fine. Kvall made a donation to my caffeination fund.” Yasha wove her fingers through Ambrose’s fur, and began reading through the reports.

 

[Jor Kvall]

Jor would need to be briefed on the situation on Ithor. Of what interest to the Mandalorians was a foreign planet filled with those strange aliens? Surely there was some other motive, though the environmental destruction that plagued the galaxy went far beyond the Mandalorian Empire's borders.

The stoic Kvall canted his head silently as the discussion moved onto religious matters. The truth was that Jor didn't know what he believed -- Kad Harang'ir or Manda or otherwise. Perhaps [member="Yasha Mantis"] would know better than most, having claimed to have ventured into these otherworldly dimensions herself. Jor could not make any judgments as to what was true and what was not, but he saw the value in certain metaphysical teachings for sculpting the psyche and willpower of the Mandalorians. Kad Harang'ir represented the glorification of the eternal struggle, action over stasis.

Warriors motivated by credits or fame could be strong, but warriors bound together by an animating myth of eternal violence -- those were super-soldiers.

"I look forward to discussing these matters further, Mand'alor," Jor replied to Yasha.

The hour grew late and Yasha wore the fatigue plainly on her face. The night's proceedings would give Jor plenty to think over in his head. Before he could recuse himself from Yasha, the advisor Tuulu re-appeared and was told to provide him intel on the Ithor matter.

"Fill me in on the situation," Jor turned to the advisor.