Private Way Back Home

[Yuri Maji]

While he didn't look, a smile still took hold upon hearing her surprise. Joining him by the scanner, she thought that she could get under his skin with a drop of her jacket and swing of her hips. Sweet teases and a smooch on his cheek wouldn't get him over their quarrel so easy, though it was proving difficult to keep his eyes level with hers... or wipe the careless grin off his mug.

"Hip-holdin' and back scars ain't an accurate measurement." He fired back, a hand subconsciously trailing along her side and back before he could even realize it. "Karkin' harpy..." He grumbled with a scoff. She knew how to get under his skin, no matter what mood he was in. With the press of a button he retreated to let the scanner do its thing while he stole back his bottle of Tihaar. A low hum of satisfaction cleared his maw in the wake of the alcohol's burn, topped off with a fresh cigarette between his lips. Once the terminal beeped, he motioned for her to turn so it could finish with its scans.

In the meantime, he mulled over her question. "Homefront's the homefront." He remarked with a shrug. "Can't remember if I mentioned it, we got the shipyards up an' running finally. It's secured in orbit and small scale production started up a few days ago. Already got orders for freighters and fighters for a few clients." He continued, taking another swig of liquor. "Apart from that? I..." He looked away with a shy smile. "I got my first design to testin' phase. I did the broad strokes, Joe and the other engineers helped make it feasible. I can show you 'round the droid later if you'd like." He tried to put on his usual cool and casual act, but it was proving difficult to hold back on his excitement.

He was proud of it. The glimmer in his eyes and toothy grin made it abundantly obvious. The only thing that could distract him from it was his girl's return.

Once the terminal finished scanning, he wandered over to wrap his arms around her waist and waddled her toward the terminal. With a few keystrokes, a hologram opened with a silhouette of her body. The bottle was held against her chest along with his cigarette to take as he began to work through the settings with his free hand. "Now comes the fun part. Design. How'd you want it? My armour was pretty thick, so you got plenty of material to play around with." He explained, head rested on her shoulder.

"Smooth, angular, segmented, solid, lay it on me." He happily continued, nuzzling his head against hers.

Were they fine? Not a chance. But anger simply had a way of melting away when he held her close. Few things in the galaxy were better than her, a bottle of good Tihaar and a smooth smoke.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Home
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"Hip-holdin' and back scars ain't an accurate measurement." He fired back, a hand subconsciously trailing along her side and back before he could even realize it. "Karkin' harpy..."

”Mm… Das afunny way of sayin’ y’forgot,” smiling, Vara wasted no time to fire back. ”Has it been that long?” a small chuckle. ”Sounds like y’could use a quick refresher.” At his press of a button, the scanner whirred to life, punctuating her quips and advances. A beat, and a cascade of azure light washed over her, slowly scrutinizing every dip and bend of her body. Crimsons tracked Yuri in silence, head unmoving. The process forbade her movement and speech.

A beep. The Wardog followed his gesture, and turned around. An ear flicked as he finally chose his words and answered her.

"Homefront's the homefront." He remarked with a shrug. "Can't remember if I mentioned it, we got the shipyards up an' running finally. It's secured in orbit and small scale production started up a few days ago. Already got orders for freighters and fighters for a few clients."

Nothing but good news.

More shipyards promised more ships for the crusade. Regardless of the small scale production, its value was not lost even for a Foundling like her; every vessel was beyond a mere strength multiplier, beyond a statistic. It was the assurance that as long as even a single vessel endured, there would come a day their hearth would be rekindled from the ashes, no matter how alien the skies may be.

Yet a bitter sting settled in her heart. She missed it. She was supposed to be here to witness the Ironwork’s forges rekindle with him. Not after the fact. A breath left her, smaller than a whisper. Consolation threaded its way to her heart with the knowledge she had done her part to help him.

He continued, taking another swig of liquor. "Apart from that? I..." He looked away with a shy smile. "I got my first design to testin' phase. I did the broad strokes, Joe and the other engineers helped make it feasible. I can show you 'round the droid later if you'd like."

There.

The slight shift in his voice. A second’s hesitation before he continued. Small enough to miss.

But not for her.

The process barred her from turning around and looking, but she didn’t need to see his smile to know. If you’d like, she scoffed internally as the scanner-light lazily swept upward across her visage. The offer was almost entirely unnecessary. Of course she would want to see the fruits of his hard work.

She’d like nothing more.

And at last, the scanner emitted the series of beeps she’d been waiting for. The azure light vanished in the same breath. Her arms fell to her sides as she moved to step off. She stopped as she heard him draw near. His arms caught her around the waist in a beat. She held his gaze from her shoulder, a tender grin already waiting. A pleased rumble rose from her throat as he led her to the terminal.

Crimsons settled on the screen table after a moment. A press of a few buttons, and he brought up a hologram display of her silhouette. The Wardog plucked the cigarette between his knuckles without a thought. It found its place between her lips. A long drag, the smoke billowed from her snout with a breath.

Finally it worked this time.

Vara leaned, back resting against his chest as the hologram of her silhouette held her gaze captive.

"Smooth, angular, segmented, solid, lay it on me." He happily continued, nuzzling his head against hers.

Her ear flicked. Hiking up a shoulder as her head turned, she gently trapped him inside the bend of her neck. Crimsons met gold as a smirk tugged at her lips. ”Lay it on you?” The chuckle came easily. Slowly, she leaned over the holotable. Propped upon her elbows, she pressed her hips back against him without a second thought. ”Say less.” Eyes settled back on the hologram after a beat. ”... Think I could do with sumthin’ thicker.” She finally said after a moment’s deliberation. ”Better coverage. Heavier, but not heavy ‘nuff t’slow me down ‘n’ leave me winded, y’dig?”

A nod followed. It was all coming together. ”Yeah… Whaddya say?”

 

[Yuri Maji]

Yuri leaned in closer as she trapped his maw against her neck, sneaking in a nibble against her pelt, though it seemed that clarification was needed with what needed to be done. Vara leaned forward, putting the Hound in a rather compromising position over her while she explained what she wanted. Eyes narrowed in confusion at her words, leaving him perplexed over whether she was talking about her armour or something else.

He finally let go of her and rested his hands on his hips. "I'd say you need to keep it in your pants, mutt." He teased with a smack on her backside. Gently ushering her aside, he began with the basic layout of her armour. One part after another, he chipped away with her input until they finally landed on a satisfying design. Once she gave the green light, he saved the design and sent it to the smelter. Machinery came to life inside, the crucible changing shape until it had a rough outline for the first piece to be forged.

"Now comes the fun part." He took another long swig of Tihaar and moved off to the side. "Strip the armour pieces down, then toss 'em into the smelter. We'll start with the cuirass first and work from there." He explained, hopping onto a brick countertop to oversee her work. At least for a few moments, he joined her by the forge immediately when it was time to start hammering. "I'll start, you watch. Beskar's a temperamental metal to work with, we gotta keep it hot or else it breaks." He explained, grabbing some tongs to pull the rough casting of her cuirass from the crucible.

The hard part finally began, with one strike of his hammer after another. Nearby, a hologram of the part was displayed to scale along with various notes. Eventually he held the piece over the jets and beckoned Vara over. "Hit where I show you, I'll tell you how hard and how to move." He spoke with a mixture of warmth and authority. She was going to forge her own armour.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"I'd say you need to keep it in your pants, mutt." He teased with a smack on her backside.

Vara blinked.

”Hmmh?” The Wardog’s glance cut toward him from over her shoulder. Brows quirked up. Crimsons sparkled with innocence. ”... What’re y’on about, babe?” the usual bite in the edge of her voice was replaced with something softer than silk. Her lips peeled back for a smile. Fangs flashed at him before she could stop herself.

Her backside sizzled under his wide palm. A breath harshly lashed between her fangs in the same beat. Her hand flew to her maw. ”How uncouth-..!” A giggle followed after a snort.

Seeing Yuri move closer, she scooched over to make space. Eyes settled upon the hovering holographic silhouette. The Wardog straightened and reached for the display. Smoke curled from the cigarette trapped between her knuckles as she guided the Hound through the design in her mind. With every tweak, the hologram shifted and evolved into something closer to the armor she envisioned.

And before long, the schematics were concluded. The smelter sparked to life afterward.

"Now comes the fun part." He took another long swig of Tihaar and moved off to the side. "Strip the armour pieces down, then toss 'em into the smelter. We'll start with the cuirass first and work from there."

Her ears flicked as crimsons settled upon gold. She drew her snout closer, nodding once at his instructions. The cigarette settled between fangs as she moved to the duffel. The armor plates lined the table in a moment, and she got to work.

With only a screwdriver and her claws, Vara set to work. Magnetized strips and strapping systems were undone in short notice with well practiced motion. The underlying panels and mesh of circuitry followed. A web of wiring soon added up to the growing pile of armor subsystems on the table. Every part stripped clean, one by one, settled inside a crate beside her. The labor required little thought, mostly leaving her to enjoy a rare moment of working with her beloved again.

Eagerly she reached out for the crate full of beskar plates the moment she chucked in the last piece. ”Done!” She reported with a chipper tone. With a quick tug she hauled the hefty crate against her chest. She brought them over to the smelter, a few steps away.

By the forge, The Wardog reached for the cuirass from the crate. She took a moment to inspect the piece. Crimsons glared back at her from the armor plate. The world around her moved out of focus for a breath. This was a massive gesture, what he was doing for her. This was no mere body armor. It never was for a Mandalorian.

This was a piece of him.

A piece of his past, now entrusted with her to bear it into the future they now walked together. Their Path had seen them become one in almost every sense of the word.

This was too much.

A sniffle escaped her. The small sound vanished into the crackle of the forge. She looked to him over her shoulder as the forge snapped back to her focus. The Wardog gave the Hound a knowing nod before she faced the forge once again. With the deepest respect to the sacred metal, she carefully fed the iron to the forge.

Vara took a step back, arms folded. Closely like an apprentice to a master, she watched him work. He first withdrew the superheated mold shaped after her cuirass design from the crucible. With the metal having reached its melting point, she watched it take form after being poured into the mold.

Instantly she moved to his flank when Yuri beckoned her.

"Hit where I show you, I'll tell you how hard and how to move." He spoke with a mixture of warmth and authority.

The forgeflames danced from her golden fang as she accepted the hammer. Fingers settled around the worn grip. The weight felt right in her hand. Then, she struck. The beskar rang beneath each precise strike. The same ancient melody that had echoed through Mandalorian forges for millennia sang once more in the Ironworks. The glowing hot cuirass matched their specifications before long.

The hammer hung low at her side. A giggle rolled from her throat. Her eyes sought Yuri’s. With a hand she plucked the cigarette between her fangs, and passed it to him. She draped an arm across his broad shoulders as the Wardog pulled him closer. Her maw parted. A moment passed in silent deliberation for the right thing to say. Words finally mustered. Small for everything she wished to say.

But nothing else felt right. ”Thank you.”

 

[Yuri Maji]

Her innocent act wasn't fooling anyone, though it earned a laugh from Yuri. There would be plenty of time to mess around later, they still had work to do. He had to remind himself that this was a very new and exciting experience for her as he watched her happily strip and dump the parts into the smelter.

The work was long, tedious and slow. With his cybernetic hand he showed her exactly where to hit and moved the plates as necessary. Every now and again he quenched it or heated it against the jets of the forge. "Oh, I'm sure I don't need to tell ya. We're kinda highly flammable, so watch the flames." He warned her in between strikes. When they finally finished with the cuirass, Yuri found himself in Vara's embrace. She thanked him, a small gesture for everything he had done for her. He understood the weight behind the words. In response, he drew her close and planted a tender kiss on her lips. "Don't thank me yet, we're far from finished." He remarked, caressing her back idly as he held her.

It did feel strange, though. Being so tender when a few hours ago they were doing their best to tear each other apart.

They weren't fine, far from it.

But he loved her. Helping her with her armour, setting her up with everything she could possibly need to make her way through the galaxy... it was an easy sacrifice for him.

He finally let go, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from under her tank top to continue work. In an effort to save face, he cleared his throat and activated the smelter to pour the next shape out. "Now, the stiffs at the central forges, they won't appreciate this part. But I ain't an artisan, so I don't care." He began to explain, taking the fresh form over to a hydraulic press. With a few instructions and new fittings, he swung the lever and watched as the press came down with a mighty slam. As it retracted, a nearly perfect pauldron stayed behind. "Technology exists, and I'm gonna use it." He concluded, taking the pauldron over to the forge to heat it up again. "All that's left is finishing touches." He held the hammer out to Vara with a smug grin.

Their job just got a whole lot easier... if she was so inclined. They could stick with the traditional method if she preferred. "So, you wanna do it the old-fashioned way or do you wanna finish up quick?" He asked her, leaning against the anvil.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"Don't thank me yet, we're far from finished." He remarked, caressing her back idly as he held her.

Her reciprocation was instant.

She leaned into the kiss, sealing her lips upon his. A chirp broke between them as they withdrew.

Her snout flared as a contented puff of breath left her. The clutches of fatigue no longer seemed to shackle her. The forgefire alone rejuvenated her. But his warmth raised her spirits more than the forge. The Foundling lingered under the Hound’s touch for as long as she could. A low grumble rolled from her throat, hotter than the forge. For a breath she found herself leaning more of her weight onto him. A futile attempt at chasing after his withdrawing touch.

But even moments like these could not last forever.

Unwillingly, she drew from him when their embrace reached its natural conclusion. But her smile remained.

Her ear flicked to attention. A cough rumbled in his throat. One corner of her lips tugged into a lopsided smirk. She gave him a moment to find his words. Meanwhile, the machine churned under his command, pouring out the next shape into another mold.

"Now, the stiffs at the central forges, they won't appreciate this part. But I ain't an artisan, so I don't care." He began to explain, taking the fresh form over to a hydraulic press.

The Wardog watched him carefully. The mold – filled to the brim – found its place under a hydraulic press. A few quick keystrokes, and a pull of the lever beside the console, the press thundered down. Vara barely stifled an involuntary recoil. She took a step closer, standing beside Yuri. In the next moment, a perfectly shaped pauldron revealed itself as the press withdrew.

"Technology exists, and I'm gonna use it." He concluded, taking the pauldron over to the forge to heat it up again. "All that's left is finishing touches." He held the hammer out to Vara with a smug grin.

Breath puffed from her scrunched snout. A chuckle followed. ”... Don’t let Thyr hear ya,” That woman. Thyr Kyron struck her as more of a traditionalist in the trade. No doubt she’d give Yuri a piece of her mind if she was to bear witness to this.

A part of her wanted to find out.

The Wardog shook her head with a soft cackle. She reached for the worn grip of the hammer once more. His previous remark was not lost on her. They were both a fire hazard. With a renewed respect for the dangers, she approached the forge once more.

She wasn’t about to let avoidable harm touch her pelt.

The woman brought over the piece to handle the finishing touches. A tilt of her head, Vara silently ushered the Hound away from the anvil, lest he fancied thermal burns. She coiled back, the way he taught her. The hammer swung in the air, but hovered just short of slamming against the heated metal. Her eyes settled on the Hound as he placed a decision in her hands.

So, you wanna do it the old-fashioned way or do you wanna finish up quick?" He asked her, leaning against the anvil.

Unmoving, the Wardog remained silent for a beat. A moment after, the hammer rose once again, and finally struck true this time. The metal’s distinct ringing echoed in the forge. Then another. And another. ”Hmmh... What’s the right way?” Vara asked him. The metal would not wait forever.

Practicality or tradition.

Which was right?

 

[Yuri Maji]

The harpy knew how to get to him. Her mannerisms never failed to sway him over to her every whim. It gave him an idea, but he needed a chance to pitch that idea to her. Vara mentioned Thyr's possible opinions on Yuri's methods, earning a proud laugh. "Oh please, I'd love to hear that pretentious shutta's thoughts on my factory." He declared, a fire of competition bright in his golden eyes.

He was ready for criticism of any kind, from any of the more veteran Forgemasters. But his was not a new method, it was simply the way the Ironworks had always operated. There was a place and time for finely crafted wares as much as there was for efficient production. She was a better blacksmith than him, by far, but he knew that he could hold his own. He didn't spend most of his childhood in this very room for nothing.

The thoughts of rivalry and proving himself were dissipated with the strike of the hammer. The cigarette between his lips was long dead and Vara brought up a very good question. He stared at her work for a moment, tossing the bud into the forge. "The right way..." He muttered in thought. He had never thought about it, the "right" way was always the one that delivered results. He stared on for a few long moments, figuring out how to answer.

This was the moment.

"There isn't a 'right' way." He answered. "At least for me. The right way is the one that gives you serviceable gear. Sure, Thyr might complain about me usin' a press, but fine artistry don't give you a squad's gear in an afternoon. But, gun to my head, if you wanna know..." A sly grin took hold as the Hound slid closer. "The right way is the one that gets us to a date quicker." He spoke with a cool grin and a sly voice. "You can't go into the field with clean gear, that's bad luck. So... if you'd like... we finish up here and take your new armour for a spin." His façade did fade as he leaned closer. "Besides, we... got some stuff to work through. So might as well work it out like a healthy Mandalorian couple, if ya ask me." He suggested with a shrug, nervous to look into her eyes.

"After that, we... we can make an evenin' out of it. If you'd like." He finally looked into her crimson eyes, silently praying that he wasn't ruining the first proper relationship of his life.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

The only thing sharper than her tongue was her curiosity.

And it always seemed to send the Hound into long deliberation before he finally satisfied her curiosity.

This was no different.

The Wardog’s pace did not relent. Applying the techniques he had shown her, Vara continued to work the beskar pauldron under every fall of her hammer.

"There isn't a 'right' way." He answered. "At least for me. The right way is the one that gives you serviceable gear. Sure, Thyr might complain about me usin' a press, but fine artistry don't give you a squad's gear in an afternoon. But, gun to my head, if you wanna know..."

Vara met his sly grin with her own. Her eyes begrudgingly fell on the anvil for a moment. Another strike rang out. The beskar answered with its distinct song. Low and clean. Another blow preceded his words. Her head crooked to the side, she continued to listen for his answer.

A sly grin took hold as the Hound slid closer. "The right way is the one that gets us to a date quicker."

He earned a smile. Unashamed and nothing to hide, her lips peeled back. Forgefire danced from the pearly whites and the gold of her fangs. The sly karkin’ mutt. The Wardog shook her head as a giggle escaped her, all giddy.

He had a way with words.

"You can't go into the field with clean gear, that's bad luck. So... if you'd like... we finish up here and take your new armour for a spin." His façade did fade as he leaned closer. "Besides, we... got some stuff to work through. So might as well work it out like a healthy Mandalorian couple, if ya ask me." He suggested with a shrug, nervous to look into her eyes.

Her snout scrunched. Her breath warm between them as he leaned dangerously close to her maw. Restraint was a difficult concept of practice for the Wardog. If it weren’t for the steel she had to work on the anvil, the Hound would have been on the ground and on his back with her on top of him by now.

A chuckle finally escaped her. She had made her decision two minutes ago. Everything he had to say only reinforced it.

Right or wrong… There wasn’t only a singular way of going about this. She had seen her work. Forgemaster Kyron’s had met her with the reverence of a priestess. Every strike of the hammer. Measured. Sacred. Diligent and worshipful.

But the Hound’s was the compromise war demanded. And the Wardog was smart enough to recognize the fact. The enemy cared not for their sacred ways in which they shaped and bent beskar to their will.

So two things could be the “right way” at the same time.

"After that, we... we can make an evenin' out of it. If you'd like." He finally looked into her crimson eyes.

The hammer slammed against the superheated beskar for the final time. Golden eyes found crimsons. ”An evenin’ out of it!” Vara echoed, her tone laced with the edge of a cutup. Her head shook. A chuckle easily came, yet bereft of the sharpness of a cynic. No.

There was no bite behind it.

Only warmth.

Her lips pursed, thinned to a line as the corners tugged back to a gentle grin. She met him bare. Not behind a quip or a smart remark. ”Yuri?” The hammer head clattered softly against the anvil. She reached for the tongs. ”I’d love nothing more, sweetheart.” She smiled, shaking her head. The tongs caught the pauldron in the making. She snapped around and carried it to the press. ”But not before you show me what you ‘n’ the boys cooked up! Deal?”

The contraption!

The only detail he had revealed about it thus far was that it was some kind of droid.

A damn well interesting droid if it got him to beam sun rays from his golden eyes.

The heated metal found its place under the hydraulic press. ”C’mon, sugar. Let’s get done here quick,” The Wardog glanced at him from over her shoulder. The lopsided grin grew larger. ”We got ourselves a date t’be.”

 

[Yuri Maji]

Vara was disturbingly onboard with his suggestion. He looked on in surprise as she picked up the pauldron and carried it back to the press, making sure that he understood the terms of the deal. He nodded along until he realized what she was doing. "Whoa, wait!" He barked, rushing over to steal the piece of armour back. "Not to burst your bubble, but you karked it up completely." He explained, holding the pauldron up for her to see. "Hairline fracture. That's on me, I distracted ya." He admitted, chucking it back into the furnace.

He did get his answer, though. She was onboard, but not before he showed her the project. As if she needed to ask twice. Regardless, she was happy to hurry the process along and he obliged. One piece after the other, the hydraulic hammer was adjusted and fixed to get the forms they needed. What would have taken the whole day was done in a few hours. Once they had the overall shapes done, Yuri broke out the welder and plasma cutter to do the fine adjustments and custom details. He took a detail from his own armour and left the "ears" vacant for modification later.

There was plenty to modify.

Vara had the Hound in his element. Her helmet took special care to ensure that it fit properly, her armour was carefully adjusted to not only fit her well, but also to have its own flavour. He even took the liberty of welding the jaws of the Ironworks to a pauldron.

By the time they were done, the rest of the factory already went home. It was early evening outside, though the weather was playing along for a change.

The last piece of armour was fitted, finished and polished. It was ready. Yuri held her new helmet with both hands and a proud smile. Sure, he helped a lot with the construction, but she did the work. This was the closest someone could get to making their own armour without being a qualified blacksmith. "Suit up. You got a droid to see." He remarked. He would help her to suit up, of course, but a hail was sent to his new astromech to bring his freighter closer while he helped. The final touch came when she was finally suited up. He left her for a few minutes, returning with a brand new jetpack and jump boots.

She deserved her own. "And before ya say anything... you still owe me five hundred bucks." He teased her, holding the sparkling new kit out for her.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"Whoa, wait!" He barked, rushing over to steal the piece of armour back.

Vara stopped on her tracks. She turned to look, eyes widened in surprise. ”What?”

"Not to burst your bubble, but you karked it up completely." He explained, holding the pauldron up for her to see. "Hairline fracture. That's on me, I distracted ya." He admitted, chucking it back into the furnace.

She couldn’t stop herself from raising a brow. Her eyes fell onto the white-hot iron. Caught between the tongs she carefully pulled it closer. But no matter how hard she looked, she failed to see the fracture he was talking about.

Forging and casting steel. One of the very few jobs she had actually never worked before. The finer nuances his trained eye could catch simply escaped her. And so Vara leaned on his experience. Within these four walls, she was in his world.

Here, his word was law.

She turned, her eyes holding Yuri’s. ”M’bad!” She smiled as she passed her grip of the tongs to him. The pauldron in the making disappeared inside the furnace to be forged once again.

And they set to work.

With every thunderous slam of the hydraulic press, a new piece of her armor revealed itself underneath. Excess trimmed and finer details shaped under the plasma torch, it wasn’t for long when the time came for the lining. With fresher components, circuitry and wiring, the Foundling installed the armor subsystems alongside the Hound.

Unlike forging, wiring she knew.

A tapestry of wiring and circuitry fitted underneath the fresh plates of armor. Powercore and batteries installed, next up was a diagnostics check. She reached for a tool. Digits curled around a metallic wand from the toolbox. She brought the needle-thin tip to the chestplate. Gently, she pressed the tip against the circuitry. A quick kiss of current. She grinned. The process found repetition for all parts. And every time the readback came clean. Without fault. She set her tools aside after, and scooched closer to the Hound.

It was time for the final touches!

The Wardog leaned forward, quietly watching him work. She drank in the sight. She had seen him fight. Seen him bleed and make bleed. But this was different. Patience guided every movement. The care behind every detail.

The love.

Wrought into every detail beneath his hands. And one such detail starkly stood out to her among the rest. The jaws of the Maji Ironworks. Its fangs glistened brightly under the light. But what interested her more was which pauldron he marked.

The right shoulderpad.

Now there was not a codex out there dictating how a Mandalorian could customize their beskar’gam. Sigils, kill marks, choice of colors and patterns; the latter of which, at times, displayed the Mandalorian’s personal values.

But specifically marks and sigils upon the right pauldron?

Many bore their signets there. Clan sigils.

The Foundling’s eyes widened in realization. Her gaze flicked from the sigil to Yuri, then back again. Her maw parted.

No.

Surely not.

"Suit up. You got a droid to see." He remarked.

Her focus snapped back onto him. With a cool grin she straightened and joined him. Eyes drifted to her helm in his hands. Crimson eyes stared back at her from the obsidian black visor. She reached, hands gently clasping the helmet. She raised it closer to her face. A corner of her lips curled higher. But beneath the vagrant’s smile lurked a question she could not answer.

How could she ever repay him?

He didn’t just give her a set of armor. He gave her a place. A life. A future. And if her intuition was right…

A clan.

A chuckle rumbled from her throat. The Wardog shook her head. With a flick of her hands, she turned the helmet around and slipped it on. Like a glove it settled into place. In the same breath the display flickered to life, runes flashing across her vision as she looked around. The helmet vocabulator wobbled with her laughter.

Quickly she untied the sleeves of her bodyglove around her waist and pulled it on. Zipped up, she attached the armor plates with the Hound’s help onto herself one by one. Before long, the Wardog stood armored once more, settling the cuirass against her frame as Yuri disappeared for a few moments.

And just when she thought the Hound could not humble her any further, he came back.

Bearing gifts.

"And before ya say anything... you still owe me five hundred bucks." He teased her, holding the sparkling new kit out for her.

She looked at the brand new gear. Then back at Yuri. <”Y’sonuvakarkin’nerfherder,”> her words rushed, as though in panic. She moved. The Wardog crossed the distance in two quick strides. <”Are y’tryin’ t’kill me with kindness!?”> A digit poked him in the chest, her head tilting to the side. <”Cuz it’s workin’!”> Her cackle erupted, sudden and volcanic. <”Y’didn’t-... Y’didn’t need t’do this, dude! What in the kark!”> She shook her head, unbelieving.

She was more than happy to make do with what he had given her to start her off. She was good at that. <”You’re killin’ me. Have you no heart?”> Her tongue clicked as she reached for the jump boots. It wasn't in her to turn away this gesture of love. How could she? A cackle escaped her as she leaned down. Highly modular, she found the jump boots quite easy to attach onto the back of her greaves. Rising to her length, she turned around after, and the jetpack found its place on her backplate with the Hound’s help.

<”Alright! M’ready t’kick your ass,”> the Wardog spun to face him, knuckles cracking in her hands. <”Y’gonna suit up too or y’intent on fightin’ naked?”> She giggled, nodding towards the duffle with his actual armor. If he chose to armor up, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

 

[Yuri Maji]

Laughter erupted from the Hound's maw at Vara's seeming irritation, a certain satisfaction taking hold at the sight of her frustration. Once again, it didn't feel like he was doing that much for her and once again he had to remind himself that this was huge for her. No, humility could take the sideline for a change. He was helping Vara immensely. The boots were snug and the unpainted jetpack was slotted onto her back.

She was ready.

"I could probably still kick your ass naked." He teased, tossing his shirt aside. In a few quick minutes he had his body glove on and the pieces of armour were strapped or locked in place. It could be done alone, but he purposefully waited for Vara to help him out. The two mutts were finally ready to move. "I called my freighter in, we still got a few minutes." He explained, leading the way to the factory's warehouse where a tarp hid the beast underneath. With his helmet clipped to his belt, Vara could see the beaming smile clear as day as Yuri grabbed the tarp and yanked it off.

The machine underneath was raw, unpainted and clearly still needed work as it rested on the ground, but it got the message across. "Here it is. Thinkin' of callin' it the 'Mangonel'." He explained, taking a step back to bask in its glory. "Way more armour and firepower than the Howler, heavier too. These will be flyin' alongside the Howlers for close fire support... I think. Still a little rusty with the doctrine." He glanced at Vara with glimmering teeth, like a kid in a sweets shop.

"So? Whaddya think?" He gave her a nudge, urging her to share her thoughts.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"I could probably still kick your ass naked." He teased, tossing his shirt aside.

She held her tongue for a beat.

It was almost too tempting to take him up on it. Truly it would make for an unforgettable fight.

For all the wrong reasons.

But she knew better.

Instead she shooed him off to his duffel bag. <“Yeahyeahyeah, suuuure y’could.”> A scoff filtered through the helmet, sharper than she liked. With a blink, she adjusted the volume as she fell in step beside him. In the pleasant silence, the Foundling helped him suit up. His t-shirt was tossed aside in favor of his bodyglove. The beskar plates, heavier than her own, snapped into place with every magnetic click of the magnetic locks and fastened straps, firmly securing the armor onto him.

Her crimson gaze lingered where her hands worked. The Wardog leaned closer, less than a handsbreadth between them. She made sure everything sat right, but that was just an obvious excuse. Her touch lingered for longer than a simple check over.

The faceplate, bare and emotionless, dipped down for a nod. In the next breath, her palm snapped at his backside. A cackle pulsed out of her with a breath. <”Yyyeee-heheah! Ready fer a beatin’?”> the Foundling teased him. She gently pressed her dome to his before drawing back, shooting him a quick thumbs up before she followed his lead to the factory floor.

"I called my freighter in, we still got a few minutes." He explained, leading the way to the factory's warehouse where a tarp hid the beast underneath.

The woman passed the threshold. She shut the door after her, getting down the stairs. She realized it then – the stillness. Tools lay dormant on the workstations. Not a soul in sight as far as she could see. Distant streetlights shone down the skylights now. The great forges cooled, patiently waiting for the next dawn to be fired up again.

They cut towards the factory warehouse, and she spotted the contraption immediately. One glance, and she understood what it was supposed to be. The sharp lines of its silhouette betrayed the tarp covering it. The wardroid was thrice the length of their speeder outside, and four times wider.

Quite larger than a Howler.

A long, breathless whistle escaped her lips as she took in the sheer size of the thing.

And then he pulled off the tarp.

"Here it is. Thinkin' of callin' it the 'Mangonel'." He explained, taking a step back to bask in its glory. "Way more armour and firepower than the Howler, heavier too. These will be flyin' alongside the Howlers for close fire support... I think. Still a little rusty with the doctrine."

Vara stood unmoving for a beat, simply taking in the sight as the Hound briefed her. Lights above shone from the bare metal with a dull shimmer. The sheer joy in his tone was unmistakable. Juvenile. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

With a slow stride, the gap between her and the warbeast shrank. She drew a hand toward it. <”May I?”> Vara glanced at him from over her shoulder. She had never forgotten what happened the last time she approached a Wardroid, without her master’s permission.

"So? Whaddya think?" He gave her a nudge, urging her to share her thoughts.

With his sanction, she would feel the steel under her palm. Her hand caressed it, gliding across the bare metal. Her glove occasionally caught a hitch or two on the plating. <“Mangonel… What’s it mean?” Her smile did not fail to vocalize through the filters. The name he chose for this variant… Was it in Galactic Basic, even? It didn’t sound like Mando’a. <“‘N’ what’s it do a Howler can’t?”> The beast held her curiosity hostage.

She moved around the airframe. The fuselage was beset under the Wardog’s scrutiny. He was right. It certainly looked heavier. She’d be lying if she knew anything about designing these things, but as a novice pilot, she understood the added weight brought with it some glaring issues.

The engine caught her eyes.

<“...So how’d you solve the lift issue? What’s the T.W.R? The engine don’t look new t’me. Then again, I am me…”> Vara shrugged, her gaze held captive by the wardroid. Well aware of her ignorance, she always left room for doubt in calls like these.

The Foundling’s eyes eventually found the stacks of gun barrels at the front again. Her footfalls came to a halt beside the Hound. In the brief silence, her attention drifted toward the doctrinal applications Yuri had mentioned earlier. <“Maybe we could use the Howlers t’fix‘em first!”> Her grin widened. Broad gestures joined in her explanation. <“Then a pair of Mangonels rolls in fer a strafe. Like trap 'em, between a hammer ‘n’ anvil. Quick one ‘n’ two.”> The airstrikes – she had witnessed how they'd do it on Ryloth and Humbarine, but strategies and tactics beyond the squad level was not something she had mastered yet.

Although the fire in her heart was undeniable, the aspiring Wardog was still, very much a Foundling.

<“Y’took it for a spin yet?”> She finally asked. Her elbowpad poked him in the ribs as she turned. <”How’s it handle?”>

 

[Yuri Maji]

Yuri fully expected Vara to linger far longer than needed when suiting him up, though he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. He had become a sucker for the attention she showered over him in moments like these. But the moment had to end eventually, and soon they stood in front of the prototype Basilisk.

The Hound wordlessly urged her to inspect the beast with a wave of his hand. "It's powered down. We ain't leavin' this thing active with no supervision." He explained, watching Vara do a lap around the machine.

<“Mangonel… What’s it mean?”>

"Type of siege weapon, if the history books are right." He answered with a shrug.

<“‘N’ what’s it do a Howler can’t?”>

"Uh, so..."

<“...So how’d you solve the lift issue? What’s the T.W.R? The engine don’t look new t’me. Then again, I am me…”>

"Well, we-"

<“Maybe we could use the Howlers t’fix‘em first!”> Her grin widened. Broad gestures joined in her explanation. <“Then a pair of Mangonels rolls in fer a strafe. Like trap 'em, between a hammer ‘n’ anvil. Quick one ‘n’ two.”>

His lips pursed as he held his tongue. He decided to wait for her barrage of questions to end first before deciding on an answer.

"Kark no, we ain't flyin' that thing. We'll blow up if we activate the engine right now." He answered with earnest. "As for the engine, the Howler's ions are way too weak. So we took a radial engine from the shipyards and modified it. Naturally she's gonna be sluggish, but that's fine. It's got three times the guns compared to a Howler, so..." He shrugged again. "Big difference is it can take a lot more punishment. Plus it don't need to power down to drill... in theory. Between the turbolaser and the shockwave rods, synchronizin' has been an issue." He let a hand glide along one of the many barrels.

Making his way back to Vara, he wrapped an arm around her with a proud grin. "We also karked up the brain's IFF so literally everything is 'on sight' right now. So don't power it up." He warned with a sing-song voice. It was rough, it stank, it leaked, but most importantly... it was his. "Joe and the others helped streamline it, but this... this is my design. And she's almost ready for production. Should have it all sorted in a few weeks." He declared, looking at Vara.

It was going to be a while before he could give her a Basilisk of her own, but now she at least had options.

The chime of his commlink brought the Hound back to reality. The ship was waiting for them on the landing pad. "Come on. Time to kick your ass." He teased, giving her a quick squeeze before leading the way to the landing pad.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Tor Valum | Maji Ironworks
TAG: Yuri Maji

Simpler Times​

"Kark no, we ain't flyin' that thing. We'll blow up if we activate the engine right now." He answered with earnest.

Her curiosity was immediate.

Under the stainless obsidian visor, devoid of emotion, crimson eyes were widened with intrigue. More questions pressed behind her fangs. And she would have voiced it if the Hound had given her even a fleeting moment. Instead, the Foundling held her tongue. A display of restraint that frayed with every passing second.

"As for the engine, the Howler's ions are way too weak. So we took a radial engine from the shipyards and modified it. Naturally she's gonna be sluggish, but that's fine. It's got three times the guns compared to a Howler, so..." He shrugged again. "Big difference is it can take a lot more punishment. Plus it don't need to power down to drill... in theory. Between the turbolaser and the shockwave rods, synchronizin' has been an issue." He let a hand glide along one of the many barrels.

Her head tilted to the side as she rested her hands on her hips. His answers left only more questions inside the mutt’s brain. How did they solve the power issue? Was it the same atomizer core or had they come up with a different method for power? And what made synchronizing difficult? Was the issue related to hardware limitations? Or software?

He continued before the young Wardog could voice any of it. A scoff tugged at her features, but all of it was swept aside in exchange for the warmth he pulled her into. She leaned into the warmth as she matched his leisurely pace.

Making his way back to Vara, he wrapped an arm around her with a proud grin. "We also karked up the brain's IFF so literally everything is 'on sight' right now. So don't power it up." He warned with a sing-song voice.

Maw parted, Vara blinked.

<”Aaand scrambling its brain is necessary for prototype testing HOW, exactly!?”> a nervous chuckle left her helmet annunciator. One careless flip of a switch, and someone could very well die!

What in the kark were they thinking!?

"Joe and the others helped streamline it, but this... this is my design. And she's almost ready for production. Should have it all sorted in a few weeks." He declared, looking at Vara.

Her head tilted left to right. It didn’t occur to her just how rapid war time production, research and development could be. <”Incredible,”> despite the madness of the circumstance, her fascination was laid bare. <”... ‘N’ when’re y’gettin’ me one?”> a chuckle rumbled from her core. Though she was only half kidding.

Thoughts danced within crimson eyes. She had seen what a single Howler could do. Entire lines broken beneath its guns. Lives spared behind a wall of fire it laid down. And if this “Mangonel” could truly eclipse that…

Her imagination raced ahead of him.

The scenes of destruction under alien skies in the theatre of her mind carried her to their freighter. Her focus returned back to him in the wake of his quip.

"Come on. Time to kick your ass." He teased, giving her a quick squeeze before leading the way to the landing pad.

A corner of her lips curled back under the emotionless helmet faceplate. A breath pulsed free from her snout. <”Am gon’ lay you out, boy.”> She took a step, closing what little distance separating them. Her touch drifted to his visage, palm cradling his face. She trapped his cheek between her digits. <”I’ll go easy on ya. Promise!”> her cackle cut sharp in the cold air. The Foundling stole a gentle squeeze and pull, before she let go.

With leisurely steps she climbed the ramp into the interior. The familiar sight of the galley welcomed her. It had been some time since the last time she was aboard. With habitualness, she cut towards the fridge in the kitchen. Knowing him, he kept it stocked. A tug at its lid, and he proved her right. The sight of various ingredients – meats specifically – sent a deep growl from the pits of her core. Her stomach protested.

But not yet.

There would be plenty of time to feast later at home. Without thinking, she reached for a bottle of ne’tra gal, and swung the fridge’s lid shut. Falling behind the Hound after, she eventually took her place at the co-pilot’s seat in the cockpit. A familiar shudder shook the freighter’s frame as they took off. A small course correction, and they were headed to their choice of arena.

The familiar battlegrounds appeared before long. The tall, snow covered pines across the plains greeted her from afar. Their tops jagged, sharp and bared like her own fangs, glared at her. The last time they were here, she left battered and in pain, but not without invaluable experiences.

This was going to be good, no matter which way it went.

She gripped the longneck in her hands. A swipe of her thumb, she jammed the claw between the bottle and the cap. With an effortless swipe, the beer sighed, a quiet and steady hiss of pressure as the cap clattered on the durasteel floor. <”Y’sure y’wanna do this?”> The Wardog held out the bottle to him. He had to be parched after toiling away in the forge for hours.

Her head tilted ever so slightly towards him. <”Y’know y’can still back out, right?”> She continued. The chit-eating grin audible in her tone. <”It ain’t too late yet, and wouldn’t make you any less of a man..!”>

 

[Yuri Maji]

<”Aaand scrambling its brain is necessary for prototype testing HOW, exactly!?”>

Yuri glanced at Vara. "Gotta keep things interesting somehow." He teased. There was a lot more reason to it, naturally. "Needed to sync everything up. After that, ya gotta fiddle with settings so the system speaks." Was the quick and easy explanation he gave her. Safe to say, though, she was still impressed with the machine. The question he had been waiting for finally came. When was she getting one? Yuri laughed. "You're greedy, ya karkin' harpy!" He teased her. "You'll get one when you're old enough." He continued, keeping up the taunts.

The day would come, though. He had plans for that, but it wasn't going to be soon. That much he was certain of.

The two mutts finally made their way to Yuri's freighter, and his face was caught in her grasp before he could react. "Don't worry, I was taught not to hit a lady." Came his reply. A finger poked into the side of her cuirass, between the plates to make her squirm. "Kickin' the snot out of 'em is apparently the proper way to do it." He continued, flicking his face free from her grasp.

In no time at all they were in the air. Vara did her usual round of scrounging through the fridge before joining him in the cockpit with beer in hand. He didn't say anything, but the cap on the floor silently irked him. He had cleaned the whole deck out just a week ago. The bottle was accepted, his helmet slid up and a long swig immediately followed. After hours behind the forge, few things were as refreshing as an ice cold bottle of beer. But it wasn't the time to relax, they still had a fight ahead of them. "... Keep talkin', schutta." He growled, a daring grin adorned along his maw. The ship was gently set down in the snow and the boarding ramp lowered.

Yuri led the way out, sliding his helmet on before turning to wait for Vara in the middle of the field. The forest was still recovering from their jetpack lessons. Many trees still hung low, or barely held onto shattered branches where the two collided in some form. "Can't remember if I mentioned yet..." He began, but never finished as his pistol cleared its holster. In an elegant draw, the pistol screamed and sent two golden bolts straight at her cuirass.

Unannounced, uncalled for. A cheap shot. "Can't have clean armour." His synthesized voice snarled. He held his pistol at the ready. "Come on, harpy, ya wanna go to war? Let's karkin' go." He practically spat, knowing exactly how to get Vara's blood warmed up for the fight.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Icy Plains, Forests
TAG: Yuri Maji

Goodbye Raven​

"... Keep talkin', schutta." He growled, a daring grin adorned along his maw.

Her cackle filled the cockpit. <”Yous gon’ get it,”> she threw him a jab, knuckles bouncing off his ‘ganic arm lightly as the freighter turned for a landing. A familiar wobble under her feet rolled through them both as the landing struts deployed, and eventually pressed against the icy ground.

She swung out of the chair and fell beside the Hound. The ramp lowered. Once more Kestri’s harsh winds greeted the two mutts. Merciless enough to freeze someone where they stood, but the thermal regulators of her armor reduced it to a mere breeze. The snow crunched under their strides as they ventured deeper into the forest.

The snow did little to cover their marks of a previous trial by combat. Pines remained torn asunder, most barely hanging by a thread at their roots, ready to topple down entirely in the next blizzard.

Or the next fight.

"Can't remember if I mentioned yet..." He began, but never finished as his pistol cleared its holster.

Gunmetal scraped against leather. Crimson eyes widened. Without conscious thought her silhouette lowered, knees bent, spring-loaded. Muscles drew taut under her bodyglove. She pivoted sharply, both hands shooting for her pistols.

But he had already drawn.

The twin shriek of War severed the peace of the pines. In the next breath she felt as though two sledgehammers punched onto her chest. A gasp tore from her maw as she dove behind boulders for cover. The Wardog slammed her back against cover, snout flaring in a sharp draw of breath. She felt for her cuirass with a hand. Nothing. A pair of carbon scorches marked the fresh beskar plating. But most importantly, it held.

Unannounced, uncalled for. A cheap shot. "Can't have clean armour." His synthesized voice snarled. He held his pistol at the ready.

A foul strike!

… And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Come on, harpy, ya wanna go to war? Let's karkin' go." He practically spat, knowing exactly how to get Vara's blood warmed up for the fight.

Her cackle echoed through the pines, sharper than a razor’s edge. <”You’s a BlTCH-ASS mutt!"> Steel cleared leather. A flick of the thumb, the selector switch clicked. Runes flickered in her vision. A blink, and two programmable knee-darts tore through the air. With a crack they detonated before they could reach the Hound, sending heated shrapnel screaming toward him.

Then she moved.

<”You want WAR!? I’LL GIVE YOU WAR!”> Her jetpack roared to life. With one jump she cleared the boulder, and rose higher as she spun, facing him. Blaster pistol already leveled at his centre mass, the pistol bucked in her hand. The muzzle whined sharply with every rapid squeeze of the trigger, as she tipped her weight, angling wide for his flank.

You stopped moving only when you were dead.

 

[Yuri Maji]

Vara immediately scrambled for cover when the shots landed, though Yuri calmly stood in place as his second pistol was drawn. Instead of making space, he decided to advance while she hid behind cover. His approach was slowed somewhat by two rocket darts detonating just in front of him, but he pushed through. By the time her jetpack ignited, he launched up with his jump boots to intercept her.

Both their pistols barked, sending bolts back and forth. He winced at the impacts scoring along his armour, but he pressed his attack and activated his repulsor to blast her back down to the ground. "You live for this, right?! You wanna be a new little Wardog, right?!" He practically barked with his taunts, his helmet's annunciator straining to match the volume. "You say you're ready, then show me!" He screamed as he levelled his vambrace at her, unleashing a stream of fire from his flamethrower to ramp up the pressure.

The Hound's jetpack finally came to life, lifting him into the air as he finished off both magazines in his pistols. He quickly brought up his vambrace's deflector shield and moved further up to buy himself a few precious seconds. Spent cells fell to the snow below and a fresh one was quickly slammed home. The second one took a bit longer with the awkward angle, but his eyes never left Vara. "Thinkin' you're the loth-cat's whiskers? Then karkin' fight, little wardog!" He continued to taunt, hiding the pain from her shots in the intense snarls.

He wanted her angry. He wanted her burning with a desire to beat him. He needed to see for himself that she was ready, he needed to know that he didn't need to worry about her.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Icy Plains, Forests
TAG: Yuri Maji

Goodbye Raven​

The Foundling’s blood sang for the fight.

Her locs whipped back as she felt the wind at her mane and took to the skies. And he was already there to meet him.

Shot for shot.

She saw it, this time. His hand whipped toward her. Knuckles faced down. The repulsor whined in the same beat. The Foundling banked, diving behind a tree trunk. The blast slammed into it. The trunk groaned and shuddered. A cascade of snow tumbled from the tops. She emerged in the next heartbeat, the muzzle already aligned with him. The blaster roared with each pull of the trigger.

"You live for this, right?! You wanna be a new little Wardog, right?!" He practically barked with his taunts, his helmet's annunciator straining to match the volume. "You say you're ready, then show me!"

A snarl tore from her throat. She ceased not in her assault, even as every hit rang through the plates and into her bones. Every squeeze of the trigger sent him another bolt. Fangs bared under the unmoving faceplate. His vambrace, leveled to her once more, sparked to life. The air suddenly grew hotter as flames licked towards her. Instinct took over, and she met him head-on. The Foundling’s free hand snapped toward him, wrist bent down. In the same breath, her own vambrace mounted flamer roared to life.

Flame struck flame. A wall of fire rose between them, neither marring the other.

Crimsons glared at him behind the flames. Fixated. The Wardog no longer saw a lover. Not her instructor. Not a test of her strength or worth, but something to maim. Something to kill.

Kill.

The word sang in her skull.

Flames dwindled and died down at the same moment. Her lips peeled back. A bloodthirsty grin. The Hound was reloading. Vambrace already leveled at him, her whipcord launcher hissed. The line cut for his right arm. A tether. As the fibercord snapped shut around his wrist like a beartrap, she committed.

Her chest rattled as a howl cleared the treetops. <”KILL! KILL! KILL!”> The chant ripped from her throat. Boots drove square into his chestplate. Momentum became hers to command. Rather than allowing gravity to claim them, the Wardog tipped her weight, jetpack barking behind her in a violent burst. Crimsons swept over his shoulders for a beat. A towering pine stood in their path. Trunk broader than a speeder’s hull.

Vara shifted, steering him by the tether and the pressure of her boots. Snow exploded beneath them as they skimmed low, carving across the frozen earth. One handed, she kept pulling the trigger while the trunk rushed to meet them with terrifying speed. Red bolts chased him the entire way, forcing him between her fury, the tree, or the tether.

She’d show him.

 

[Yuri Maji]

The Hound had just slammed a fresh magazine into his second pistol when a whipcord wrapped around his arm. He hesitated, expecting her to drag him off or yank him around. Instead, she came barrelling towards him. With a snarl he awaited her impact, managing to secure one of his pistols in its holster before she collided with him.

A guttural, involuntary bark tore from his maw and his remaining pistol fell to the snow beneath them. But he wasn't too bothered. He wrapped his free hand around the whipcord and activated the stunner in his gauntlet, sending a powerful electric current right back into her. Crimson bolts splattered against his helmet and body, his visor trying its hardest to keep up with the volley of flashes. He needed to move quickly.

In one motion, he sliced the wire with an integrated blade on his left arm and levelled his vambrace to fire once more. Only, this time it wasn't a caster or repulsor. The vambrace sparked and a rocket was sent straight at her center mass to blow the two apart. His insides ached and his ears rang, but he managed to ignite his jetpack once more to make some distance between them. Only then did he see the tree they were disturbingly close to collide with. "No form, no plan! You a karkin' Mandalorian or an animal, ya karkin' banshee?!" He cried out, voice cracking in protest against all the punishment.

His body was on fire, muscles and organs protesting against the fight. The disturbing part was the lack of anger in himself compared to Vara. He had succeeded in enraging her, but now he was going up against a highly capable fighter running on adrenaline... while he was somehow only shaking with irritation.

His remaining pistol was drawn once more, firing burst after burst as he took his turn to charge at her. His right hand raised again, the repulsor screaming to disorient her while he tried to grab hold of her wrist.

Vara Maji

 

[Vara Maji]

THE FOUNDLING
Kestri | Icy Plains, Forests
TAG: Yuri Maji

Goodbye Raven​

The momentum changed hands in a heartbeat.

Undeterred by the particle bolts slamming into his chest and visor, the Hound wrapped a gauntleted hand around the tether. Barely dampened by her armor, the shock coursed through the Foundling, setting every nerve alight. A sensation all too familiar. Her maw snapped shut. Fangs bared, she weathered the storm in silence. A dog with old tricks. She was not the same woman he beat to a pulp in Junkfort anymore.

He had seen to that.

A blade winked under the moonlight. In the same beat, the tether snapped. She caught it then, his vambrace shifting toward her gut. Without a second to hesitate, she broke off. Her jump boots flared to life. A twin pulse slammed against his cuirass. Vara let the momentum carry her in a backward flip. The snow. The trees. Even the Hound blurred together as a whistle grated her ears and tore under her.

The missile’s volcanic boom rocked the forest. Pines tiredly swayed before they settled in silence.

The snow crunched under her soles as she landed. Crimsons found the Hound in the next breath. She shifted, the muzzle of her pistol drifted from his silhouette as her thumb hit the release. She flicked her wrist. The spent powercell spun into the snow. Another scraped against steel and slammed home.

"No form, no plan! You a karkin' Mandalorian or an animal, ya karkin' banshee?!" He cried out, voice cracking in protest against all the punishment.

She barked with laughter. Vitriolic. <”I am what you made me, Yuri.”> Vara spat with a measured fury. Slowly she drew closer. Ice cracked beneath every step. <”So why don’t you tell me.”> She came to a sudden halt. Her hand shifted to her second holster. The pistol swiftly cleared it, steel rasping sharply against the leather. She brought them to bear. A boot scraped across the icy ground, while the other withdrew, knees bent and spring-loaded.

As though she invited him to take charge.

A grin split her maw wider upon seeing the Hound take her up for it.

The forest erupted into a small-scale battle once more. A burst of particle bolts snapped at her. She ducked. The first volley cleared a handsbreadth above her head. She squeezed back the triggers. The blasters bucked inside her firm grip. A staccato of red bolts met his advance. Her cuirass caught the second burst. A grunt tore from her chest, breath along with it.

An ear splitting boom rattled inside her skull in the next beat. A cone of force tore towards her, scattering the virgin snow in its path. A yelp tore from her chest. Her grasp around a blaster wavered for a moment. The snow caught it in the next, as the Hound's grasp locked around her wrist.

She moved, even as the world began to double in her vision and the ringing in her ears screamed. Ducking beneath his arm, the Foundling slipped around his flank before pivoting hard. Her pistol remained clenched between her fingers as she wedged her knuckles into the hinge of his elbow, torquing the shoulder. In the same motion her shin whipped toward his knee to buckle the joint beneath him.

She’d make him see what he made of her.