Priest Alor
"The image of a Shriek-Hawk carrying a Mythosaur Skull."
OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION
- Image Source: Chatgpt: I made it.
- Canon Link: N/A
- Primary Source: N/A
- Corporation Name: Tion'jor Shipworks - "How We Fight"
- Headquarters: Rhen Var
- Locations:
- Operations:
- Starship Construction, Modification, Upgrade and Retrofits,
- Vehicle Construction, Modification, Upgrade and Retrofit,
- Walker/Iron Beast Construction, Modification, Upgrade, and Retrofit
- Speeder Construction, Modification, Upgrade and Retrofit,
- Starship, Vehicle, and Walker technology fabrication.
- Parent Corporation: N/A
- Subsidiaries: N/A
The company founded by Tarre Priest—though it carries the structure of a starship and vehicle manufacturing outfit—is far more than a simple industrial enterprise. It is a Mandalorian-forged bastion of cultural preservation, innovation through aggression, and technological rebellion. At its core, the company functions as a clan-based syndicate of smiths, engineers, mechanics, salvagers, and warriors who design and manufacture bespoke starships, ground vehicles, and warcraft infused with Mandalorian values: durability, modularity, and individuality. But unlike traditional manufacturers, Tarre's operation doesn't seek to innovate through bureaucracy or sanctioned trade. Instead, it thrives on a brutal philosophy of appropriation and refinement.
Under Tarre's leadership, the company actively seeks to locate, infiltrate, and acquire advanced schematics, ship cores, weapons platforms, and armor designs from rival corporations, hostile factions, and galactic governments. Once recovered—whether through sabotage, salvage, mercenary contracts, or battlefield seizures—these components are reverse-engineered, stripped of their inefficiencies, and reforged into superior Mandalorian-crafted variants. Every piece of technology they steal becomes fuel for the forge, reworked with a blend of traditional Beskarsmithing and modern modular design to outmatch its source. To Tarre, this isn't theft—it's reclamation. A galaxy that has disrespected and exploited Mandalorians for centuries has no right to guard its toys.
The company also serves as a haven for the disenfranchised—outcast Mandalorians, rogue inventors, disillusioned mercs, and lost clanless warriors looking for purpose. Inside its walls, loyalty is forged not through contracts but through creed. Its ships are not mass-produced but custom-built: each hull reflects the personality, battle-style, and clan affiliation of its intended pilot. The company thrives on adaptability, and no two builds are ever the same. Whether it's a starfighter built from stolen Sith engine tech, or a beskar-plated walker constructed with New Imperial chassis blueprints, every creation is honed to be deadlier, hardier, and more Mando'ade than anything the wider galaxy could muster.
In the eyes of the galaxy, the company may be a rogue operation—a militant black-market forge with delusions of grandeur. But to Tarre and his people, it is the rebirth of a tradition long drowned by politics and galactic indifference. Every ship is a declaration. Every theft is a victory. Every strike of the hammer is the sound of Mandalore reforging its destiny.
RATIONALE
"You want to know why I built this? Why I turned from warrior to forge-master? It's not because I wanted to play merchant or slap a name on a hull and call it mine. It's because our people have spent too long begging for scraps from foreign hands. Having to scrounge for whatever we could after the multiple attacks made against our people. Attacks not just from Sith by way of Saber, and blaster, but attacks of our people by way of culture. A forced acceptance of who we are. To be the remains of a damaged world. The left over people of a culture that has been gutted with a hook.
Every war I've walked through, every battlefield I've left behind, I saw the same thing—Mandalorians flying borrowed ships, wearing piecemeal armor, bleeding in gear built for someone else's war. They died with honor, yes. But they died using tools that didn't know their name. That didn't speak to who they were. There are many who seek to make their own gear. Even among the Mandalorians. We have members who seek to privatize their gear, warships, and blades to those not of our own. They segregated themselves because of ideals. Instead of understanding that we are dying. We are being exterminated.
That's a kind of quiet extinction, you know. When you let your culture be carried by things made in someone else's image. When your armor stops telling your story. When your blade is stamped by a Coruscanti patent instead of clan sigils. That's not survival. That's erosion. A break down of our people to its base parts. Beskar, and how its used. Our Beskads and their appropriation by other cultures. The Sith tainted our lands. Our iron. Our souls for their own gain. Making things of the force that perverted our ancestral ties.
So I built this forge—not just to make ships, but to build something that carries meaning again. A forge is sacred. It's where raw material becomes purpose. The same way the old rites shape a child into a warrior, the anvil and flame give shape to our will. And that will should be our own—not leased from the Techno Union, not beholden to a singular faction. This company—this clan—I made it for those who lost theirs. Warriors without a banner. Smiths with no forge. Bounty hunters, scouts, protectors who still live by the creed, but have nowhere left to bring their skills. I offer them something more than a paycheck. I offer them legacy. We don't mass-produce. We craft. Each hull, each walker, each weapon—we build with purpose. Personalized. Beskar-bound. Meant to last. Meant to speak the language of our people.
And no, we're not tied to any one house. Not Sons. Not Union. Not Watch. We serve the creed. And if you live it—truly live it—you'll find a place here. We work like a clan. We defend like one. And we fight to make sure Mandalorians never again have to rely on outsiders to carry them to battle. This forge is more than a business. It's a defiance. A reclamation. And as long as I draw breath, it'll never sell out, rust over, or bend knee to any throne that doesn't honor the fire we come from. Its why the name was chosen. How we fight, in securing our own, in forging bonds to all Mandalorians, to give our culture a possible chance of surviving no matter what iteration of Clans the Mandalor proclaims to be allowed. I want our people a second chance. To take back what it ours, to take from others and build ourselves. Get ahead of the ball and make something of ourselves other than squabbling children fighting over who is the real one."