Private The Wrath Of A Beaten Dog

[MG-851216]

FOOL'S GOLD

As Cabur'tomad rolled through hyperspace, Mevia Vizsla leaned back in the passenger seat. She was truly doing this. She was truly joining Death's Hand. She sighed, her feet up on the control panel as the basilisk groaned to her.

"I know. I'm an idiot. Everything I'm doing right now spits in the face of who my parents were."

Grief shadowed the Chiss' eyes as she remembered her late mother, slaughtered by Death's Hand. She remembered her late father, who went so deep in his life mission to decimate the Maw and restore the Chiss, that he went MIA. She remembered her own history, a Mawite remnant slave who grew up on an imperial sympathetic world. She knew, fully well, that the Dark Empire was her greatest enemy.

And yet, she knew that Death's Hand was merely using them, as a means to an end. And she knew that out of any Mandalorian faction out there, Death's Hand had it right. In this cruel galaxy, it was all that could be afforded. Only the strongest could make it to the top, and that was all there was to it. She could only hope that she was strong enough to face the war ahead... and steady enough to contain her hot emotions, as she stood side by side with those demons in the Dark Empire.

Cabur'tomad moaned again, telling her that they were exiting hyperspace. The Mandalorian pulled her feet down and sat up in her seat, straightening out her clothes and hair as they exited hyperspace. And before her, spanning across her window, was New Mandalore.

Mevia had paid little attention to New Mandalore, both growing up and within the Enclave. She had always hoped to see Mandalore properly restored (something that the Mandalorian Protectors were valiantly attending to), and she had always seen Kestri as her second Mandalorian home. New Mandalore simply escaped her mind, as that world's factions of Mandalorian Cland stayed just as hidden and secretive as Mevia's own family had been, growing up on Archais. But now, she was here. And she had to admit, this place looked quite pleasant. Archais was a dry, hot world with tropical rainforests spread throughout. Kestri was a below freezing snow world, plunged within icy hostility. But New Mandalore had taiga forests and pleasant grasslands, mixed with resource rich ores visible from the surface. Mevia was already itching to take her speeder bikes out for a spin on this planet.

But before that, she had work to do.

Even compared to the Enclave, Death's Hand was driven heavily by strength, training, and power. Mevia knew she would have to make a first impression, and she was subconsciously nervous as her inferiority complex bubbled up. Mevia had to prove not only to Death's Hand, not only to Caesar Kryze, not only to her new fellow verd, but to herself that she was a strong and capable Mandalorian.

A looming fortress came into view up ahead. Etched into the mountains itself, the imposing fortress was carved with traditional Mandalorian squares and rectangular architecture, if not even more brutalist. A powerful structure of simple metal and stone, the Mandalorian fortress left little room for sunlight as it defended itself from every element outside.

The fortified, heavy hanger bay opened it's massive gates, opening up to let the ship Cabur'tomad flew alongside inside. Cabur'tomad followed, entering the dark fortress.

Inside, the architecture was far plainer than Kestri's. Built with practicality in mind more than anything artistic, the towering walls were bare and looming. Through the shadows, Mevia's basilisk landed on a long, vacant platform several paces away from the other ship. Standing up, the Chiss Mandalorian walked into the shadows of her own ship, towards where her beskar'gam awaited her. She pulled her golden armor over her, equipping many weapons as well. Her two swords were hung on her utility belt, alongside her hand cannon and Mandalorian Ripper. On her back, she favored her mother's old slugthrower rifle, alongside her favorite Plasmag rifle. The two rifles were crossed like an X, as the Si'kayha dropout hung her light repeating blaster on her side. She pulled her buy'ce over her head, hiding her Chiss heritage, and walked towards the exit ramp.

Cabur'tomad let her off, and Mevia descended the ramp. And then, she took her first step on her new home. The heavily clad Mandalorian looked around, up to the fortified defenses of this fortress. It already was better protected than Tor Valum had ever been, if not far more foreboding than that underground city. And yet, despite its spacious and dooming atmosphere, she already felt well guarded here. This was not a city meant to house society and host culture. This was a singular, humongous fortress ready to defend a warrior people. Beneath her visor, Mevia smiled.

She could tell that she was going to like it here.

She walked towards the other ship, where her partner was also descending from his ramp. Mevia crossed her arms as she stood several paces from the ramp. Several meters behind her, Cabur'tomad was following like a loyal pup. Mevia lifted her hand, scratching Cabur'tomad's chin as he lowered it to her.

<"I'm sure you're disappointed I'm wearing my beskar'gam again,"> Mevia teased, a hint of flirtation in her tone, <"But I need to show my vod that I am to be taken seriously.">

She truly meant it. First impressions were important, as her partner had proven to her. Caesar Kryze, Khamul Kryze's son, had seen enough in her to not only recruit her, but consider her as something more. She wanted to prove that he was right, and that she was as strong as she always had strived to be.

And she hoped that this place could truly become her new home.

Caesar Kryze Khamul Kryze Dodhorn Harert

​

Equipment
Armor	Beskar'gam.
Melee Weapons	Davaab'beskad, personal Chiss "Execution" beskad.
	Jetii'Kyramud, Soul Sword.
	Kada'yr, Mandalorian Kal.
Rifles	Tyatr'geriuvr Plasmag Rifle.
	ENCL-S14 Paradoxal Slugthrower.
	Igradi Light Repeating Rifle.
Pistols	RP-05A Ripper Pistol.
	HG-88 'Big Iron' Hand Cannon.

​

 

[Caesar Kryze]

Location: New Mandalore
Objectives: Come home
Tags: MG-851216 Dodhorn Harert Khamul Kryze
Gear: in main bio

It was good to be home, it wasn't to everyone's tastes but the cool hard lines of the fortress had been his home for so long that he would feel uncomfortable anywhere else. He walked off of his ship and looked around at the hangar, there were several vod around but mostly technicians, they had arrived just before dawn so within the hour the place would be much busier as ships returned and departed for patrols. His feet clanked on the ramp ahead of three of his commandos that peeled away to do their own thing. As he walked along he ran his fingers along a long black streak where one of the hydraulic lines had taken a hit. "Fix that" he ordered one of the techs who nodded his head and wrote something on his pad.

Caesar walked across to the heavily armoured woman and laughed at her flirtascious comment. Her armour was glorious, but he knew what was underneath and it was a shame to cover it. "Hearts or noses?" he asked playfully "If you start showing what you showed me around here, you better be ready to start breaking both." he laughed again and gestured she walk with him. They would meet his parents Dodhorn Harert and Khamul Kryze soon. He had joked with his father about the woman he was bringing home, about the glory of returning home with a tamed Chiss. But returning home with an untamed one, ready to fight along side them, that was something he could have even more pride over.

"Remember vod, it is strength first here. Discipline is tight but we are mandalorians, if someone disrespects you, you put them in their place, noone is punished for upholding their honor. If someone runs their mouth that you are being favoured, remind them that if they wish to challenge you, they do it properly, then kick their ass." he turned and smiled under his helmet as he spoke to her. He would defend her honor and protect her as he promised, but she would be well aware that if he treated her as too weak to defend herself, then she would be eaten alive here, he thought about how literal that phrase could become and smirked. Caesar could feel Mevia's presence and her eagerness to prove herself, no doubt she would quickly get her chance.

 

[MG-851216]

FOOL'S GOLD

"Remember vod, it is strength first here. Discipline is tight but we are mandalorians, if someone disrespects you, you put them in their place, noone is punished for upholding their honor. If someone runs their mouth that you are being favoured, remind them that if they wish to challenge you, they do it properly, then kick their ass."

<"Understood.">

Mevia nodded firmly in response. The Enclave had practiced discipline above anything else, favoring cooperation over upholding personal honor. This would be a welcome change for someone who, by nature, was more spontaneous in her actions. She looked up to Cabur'tomad, who seemed intent on following her outside this hanger bay. She shook her head at him, giving him a couple more scratches.

<"I'll be fine, and so will you. If you need anything, go bother the mechanics. You're so charming, they'd bend over backwards for you, pal.">

Mevia gave the basilisk a Keldabe Kiss before turning around, and following Caesar through the shadows. As they walked, Mevia was confident and poised, with an upright posture and a wide open, long stride. As they walked through the hanger bay, she saw some fellow vode for the first time. Their own beskar'gams were custom, just like her own, showing their personalities and fighting styles off the bat. One vod wore another Heavy Infantry model, while the other oppositely leaned towards the light and dexterous approach. As the groups passed each other, Mevia offered them a traditional Mandalorian salute, which they returned.

<"Look, Anthron, our lord brought another recruit! Death's Hand is getting stronger by the day!">

<"Recruits are all well and good,"> the other responded, <"But let's hope she's good in a fight.">

They soon transitioned into a far smaller, thinner hallway. Wide open windows, protected by ray shields rather than glass, bathed the stone hallway in natural sunlight. The sunlight shone brilliantly against her gold armor as they marched on, towards where Caesar was leading her.

<"They'll find out soon enough,"> Mevia spoke confidently, <"I've fought toe to toe with Sith and Jedi. And I technically passed Si'kayha training.">

As they continued to walk, Mevia lifted her head high, <"Mandokarla, I've got the right stuff.">

Caesar Kryze Khamul Kryze Dodhorn Harert

 

[Khamul Kryze]

WRATH OF A BEATEN DOG

THE UNCHAINED

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Tags: Caesar Kryze , Dodhorn Harert , MG-851216​

LUKR

The air felt cold amidst the citadel halls, a calm reminder of the ever-frozen peace felt within the Unchained's core of self. Though filled with flame and hatred, it was within these halls that Khamul had felt some semblance of tranquility. For it was here, among all places across the galaxy, that he knew he was surrounded by those that were truly worthy of being called Mandalorian. Even as those of a weaker mind lost their lives in his blood pits, their sacrifices only served to weed out those that were never meant to be part of their beautiful future. In fact, his own son had only recently lost someone dear to him... well, perhaps dear was a strong way of putting it. The Wren was never worth his blood, nor his time. Khamul had hoped that the lesson would serve his son well, though only time would tell.

Word had come to him of another brought within their arms, particularly one that had a very, very personal bone to pick with Solipsis and his ilk. As much as the Unchained respected the Sith'ari's power, he never held any strong allegiance to him and his New Sith Order, despite what his false Mandalorian counterparts may claim. A puppet, they would call him. Blinded, even. Yet, none of them held any concept of the long game within their minds, and none truly understood what it would take to regain their people's lost glory.

He had just watched two young members of Death Watch settle an old family squabble, which ended with one of the contestants on the floor, choking in his own blood. It wasn't necessary to kill your challenger within Death's Hand, but Khamul could not hold it against the victor should they do so. Nevertheless, he motioned for the weakling's body to be removed from the room, only just in time to receive his son and their new guest. Khamul could sense the conflict within her, even if she could not sense it herself. Yet, one's blood did not matter to him. All that mattered is if this person chose the truth path of the Mandalorian.

"Caesar, my son..."

The words were something he was still getting used to. Though Caesar had shown strength, there was yet much he would need to prove, should he one day take his father's place. To be Mand'alor was not a promise, by birth nor claim. To lead was a role that could only be taken by those that deserved it, by blood and fire, and he would continue to push Caesar in hopes that it may one day be him.

"I see you have provided us with some new blood."

His words were simple, plain, and entirely too indifferent. He cared little for his son's endorsement, in truth, and would rather prefer this new recruit to prove herself on her own merits.

 

[Caesar Kryze]

Location: New Mandalore
Objectives: Come home
Tags: MG-851216 Khamul Kryze Dodhorn Harert
Gear: in main bio

Caesar was pleased to hear that insight of her reservations, Mevia seemed confident and strong in her conviction, that would keep her alive, particularly when she met his his parents, people who could smell fear a parsec away. As much as he looked forward to the moments where they could grow they new intimacy, this was why her recruited her.

The pair approached Khamul's chamber just as some poor sap was removed, his body battered and bloodied. His armour was marked with the telltale signs of mandalorian weapons fire so Caesar could only assume a duel had been fought and gone badly for that man.

"Caesar, my son..."

"Father" he replied, bowing his head to Khamul. "It is good to be home. I hope the most recent visitors to your chamber provided you with some entertainment.

May I introduce Mevia of Clan Vizsla. She is strong and is eager to prove herself." he would say no more. He could tell his father anything, that she was stronger than the Manda itself, but it meant nothing without proof of the person's mettle.

"Would I be correct in thinking my mother is here too?" He asked, having sensed her presence as they landed. It would be good to see her too. The greatest Empire was growing and with all of the pieces moving into place on the galactic chess board, the Death's hand would need all of its strength soon to ensure it was ready to capitalise on and openings their Sith allies were able to present to them.

 

[Dodhorn Harert]

Alor of Clan Harert, Sith Lord, Hellwolf of Mandalore

Information

Objective: To meet with the others
Location: Surface, New Mandalore
Equipment: Beskar'gam | 2x Beskad | 2x Su'arnr be Tracyn | 1x red blade lightsaber
Tags: MG-851216 | Caesar Kryze | Khamul Kryze

<"Mandalorian or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Dodhorn, as usual, spent most of her time at home and not at New Mandalore. However, she was now on her way there when called. No, not at Khamul's call, but the woman was contacted by her son, who had returned home. The woman was also a Sith Sorcerer, but she always preferred beskad to lightsabers or even Sith magic. She considered herself more Mandalorian than Sith Lord. Or in her case, Sith Lady. She had now received a call from her son, and for her it was more something that made her decide to go to that other planet.

Fortunately, the Evaa'la Yaim was in the Unknown Region, as was the New Mandalore, so with a very fast hyperdrive the journey was no more than a few hours, which she spent in quiet meditation. When she arrived, she got permission to land, then she landed at the place where she had been given the coordinates. She then went from there to the fortress where her son was. As she was rather suspicious, she reached into the Force ahead of time and tried to find out what other familiar people might be around her son. The former Manda'lor immediately recognized Khamul Kryze's aura and pattern in the Force. She knows her lover very well.

Since she did not perceive anyone who was hostile or an enemy of her, the Hellwolf did not hide its presence. Finally, the woman arrived where the others were. As usual, she was now wearing her archaic-looking armour, the kind worn by the Neo-Crusader. She had been living in the present for some time now, but stylistically she still liked this armour the best, so she hadn't changed the design, but of course had made a new one since she was in the present. A suit of armour that was over six thousand years old was pretty much useless, even though it had stood up very well to six millennia of stasis.

Since she had been here for quite a long time, the guards recognized her and immediately announced her arrival. Dodhorn did not take off her helmet for the moment, but walked into the room where the others were. The woman looked out from under her helmet at all the people present, keeping her head forward all the time, so that no one could see who was looking at whom under the helmet. Even so, she could smell the fresh scent of blood and the way the hearts of most of those present were pumping blood in the living body, something she could feel even in the Force. It always made Dodhorn hungry…

<"My son! My lover!"> the woman greeted the two men. Finally she stopped a few metres away and she turned her gaze to the girl. <"Who is she?"> she asked.

 

[MG-851216]

FOOL'S GOLD

There he was, sitting upon a throne. There he was, fully clad in dark beskar. There he was, the legend, who had once called himself Mand'Alor.

Khamul Kryze.

He looked just like the holotexts portrayed him. Years obviously had done little to erode his strength, as he sat mighty as Kestri's glorious mountains. He sat there, having been "mediator" to a conflict between vode that ended in a poor sod being dragged out as he bled. Mevia tilted her buy'ce to watch as he was dragged out, contemplating such brutality amongst ranks.

I can understand that sometimes this sort of thing happens, She mused internally, But with how small our numbers are, I would hope that duels ending in death weren't the norm. We need as many vod as we can muster...

As Khamul and Caesar exchanged dialogue, Mevia picked up on the underlying formality and apathy. Caesar obviously looked up to his father, but Khamul's voice lacked the warm and affection Mevia had felt from her own parents growing up. If Khamul saw Caesar as nothing but the same kind of tool he considered the Dark Empire as, what did that mean for his place here? Her musings were thrust aside as Caesar introduced Mevia, and she acted.

Upon being introduced, she struck a mighty, meaningful salute from her place a couple paces behind Caesar. Her head was held high, as she looked to Khamul Kryze with the reverence a vod had for their leader. She was indeed eager to prove herself, and willing to go through any trial Khamul asked of her. Even after having seen how far duels could go here, it just assured Mevia that she was able to go all out.

Despite her misgivings about vod dying in a mere training duel, these thoughts were... strangely freeing.

When Caesar mentioned his mother, Mevia felt that familiar ache for her own. She missed her mother terribly, always wishing she would have done it differently with her. The level of self hatred she felt for how she treated her mother fueled her. If she was so angry, she was best using that anger to be as strong as she could. Her mother had lived and died for the well being of her family. It encouraged Mevia to live and die for the well being of all vod, so sacrifices like her's would not need to be wasted... especially on such foolish children such as herself.

But soon enough, Caesar's mother entered the room. Her armor was similar to the Neo-Crusader model, old and aged as a suit of armor. Mevia immediately perked her head up at the sight, immediately respecting the beskar'gam and its user for it. Her greeting was far more personal, and far more emotional, than Khamul's had been. When the Mandalorian asked who she was, Mevia struck another powerful salute and spoke for the first time.

<"I am Mevia Vizsla, of Clan Vizsla, my Ver'Alor. It is an honor.">

She had not brought up her familial relationship with Clan Vizsla's Alor. She was not about to bring up her own mother and her affinity within the Enclave. She was not even going to refere to her new connection with Caesar. She wanted no special treatment, no golden stars by associations. She did not want the kind of pity her own family gave her, as she battled to prove her worth. She was indeed eager to prove herself, and she wanted to do it with her own power and strength. For all her excitement, her nervousness was strong inside, amplifying her heartbeat. She looked back to the leader on the throne, and she gulped. She was happy that her subtle motions were hidden by her beskar'gam, as she feigned her confidence in an upright, militaristic posture. Meaningful, passionate, and strong movements did not show a hint of weakness as she looked up to her new Alor.

<"I want no strings attached. I only want to prove myself worthy of this place by my own merits. What would you have me do, my Alor?">

 

[Khamul Kryze]

WRATH OF A BEATEN DOG

THE UNCHAINED

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Tags: Caesar Kryze , Dodhorn Harert , MG-851216​

LUKR

Khamul looked upon the armored visage of his son, offering him a simple nod in regards to his comment. As for his mother, well... Khamul could feel her presence, even before she stepped forth onto the soil of New Mandalore. They had spent a considerable amount of time together before he set forth on his mission for strength, and her Force signature had become rather familiar to him, even when they weren't in the same room.

"She arrives now, my son."

The Unchained's gaze drifted to the beautiful and unholy visage of the Hellwolf as she entered the room, his head offering a nod of acknowledgement.

"It is good that you are here. Caesar has brought a new potential addition to our ranks."

His mask snapped to meet Mevia's gaze, his piercing eyes seemingly penetrating the mask itself and into Mevia's very soul. She was nervous, though she hid it well. Nerves weren't exactly a deal breaker within Death's Hand, but how she would handle them, well... that would be a different story.

"Clan Vizsla... a truly old and powerful name to bear. Should you be found worthy, you'll find some of your kin among our ranks."

He omitted the bit about the infighting in Death Watch when Khamul and his ilk landed on New Mandalore, spurred from the discontent of the more zealous among their ranks. He felt no guilt regarding the affair, but there was no need to speak of past victories. There was only the path forward.

"No strings... such a quaint concept. There are always strings... chains that bind us, whether we can see them or not. It is only when we are proven worthy that we may find ourselves free of them."

He stood, towering over those nearby as he took a couple of steps forward, carefully eyeing the newcomer.

"First, tell me... what drove you to this place? Caesar is quite the charmer...", he said with a brief pause. A subtle jab to his son, no doubt in reference to the Wren that had been killed by The Unchained not long ago. He expected no response from Caesar, but would never pass an opportunity to test the one he wished to one day take his place.

"But surely there is another reason. Tell me, what is it you seek?"

 

[MG-851216]

FOOL'S GOLD

Mevia could feel Khamul's gaze piercing through her, through her buy'ce, through her visor. But she kept her cool. Head high, she was at the ready as Khamul remained on his throne.

​

<"Clan Vizsla... a truly old and powerful name to bear. Should you be found worthy, you'll find some of your kin among our ranks.">

Mevia's only respond was the subtle dip of her head before keeping it high again. Mevia's grandfather had been the Alor of Clan Vizsla for years, but Mevia had grown up relatively isolated in Archais. She had seen few of her own clan, and she questioned historical figures such as Ra Vizsla for their vile actions against their own people. Yet with legends such as Kranak himself amongst their ranks, she knew that she could be proud of her Clan still.

​

<"No strings... such a quaint concept. There are always strings... chains that bind us, whether we can see them or not. It is only when we are proven worthy that we may find ourselves free of them.">

Mevia frowned beneath her visor. "Free of them." As a former slave, she only craved to feel that freedom, as she ever strived to prove her own worth. It was a quote that reminded Mevia of what she was, and not who she was trying to breathe. Through the Force, Force Sensitives would sense dissatisfaction and avarice could be felt in powerful waves.

​

<"First, tell me... what drove you to this place? Caesar is quite the charmer... But surely there is another reason. Tell me, what is it you seek?">

What did Mevia seek?

She sought a lot of things.

<"I'm tired of my peoples being pushed around.">

She referred not just to Mandalorians in this proclamation, but the Chiss as well. She left her Chiss heritage go for now, however, as she continued.

<"The Mandalorians have suffered genocide, exile, and hardship for too long. The Sith defiled Mandalore and scattered her people. Our own vode have worked to crush us even further, and our various factions squabble with their own interests in mind instead of the greater Mandalorian people. That's why I left the Enclave.">

Beneath her visor, Mevia's red eyes burned with passion, <"Our people need strength and power to win their place again. I want a Mandalorian Empire, where we rule with strength and dignity, no longer under the thumb of aruetii, Jetii, and Dar'Jetii. I want a Mandalorian rule, where parents don't need to sacrifice everything for their children any longer. I have been told that the Dark Empire is only a means to an end for you, I would hope that information is true.">

Her clear disdain for the Maw and New Imperial Order were too obvious in her tone.

<"I was born a slave, and only freed by the might and pity of my Buir. My father saved me, but my mother taught me strength."> Mevia finished, <"I may not be naturally talented, and I may not have Manda's Blessing of the Force. But I have trained and fought for my people, and I am willing to do what must be done for them.">

<"So, my Mand'Alor, what must be done now?">


Khamul Kryze Caesar Kryze Dodhorn Harert