Campaign Way of the Mandalore | The New Mandalore Campaign

[Rynn Vizsla]

// Unknown Regions // Undiscovered Sector // Uncharted System //
// Terrestrial Planetary Body - Type I Atmosphere: Habitable //
// Continental Classifications with Variable Biomes; Predominantly Jungles and Oceanic //​

The Mandalore-that-was is gone. There were once fertile fields where there was now but a barren, irradiated wasteland - incapable of supporting life. The once bountiful quarries were plundered and despoiled, leaving nothing for those that once inhabited that cursed world. Only the many sins of the past and ashen echoes remained, etched into the planet's surface for the entire Galaxy to see. ]In many respects, it was a Tomb world that had been desecrated and ransacked for untold generations. Sure, there were attempts to revivify the soil and replant the ashen crops - but all, in some fashion or another, ended with abject failure. The Galaxy itself wished for the planet to die, but the people that once called it home were simply too stubborn to let it go. Through those ties to the past and the vain hope for a better future, the Mandalorian people were shackled to their misfortunes.

It was a vicious cycle that ensnared even the most progressive of the Mandalorian peoples. They believed that with time and effort, their world would be reborn again like the Phoenicians of Old; and that through their fiery rebirth - their culture would be pulled from the abyss's edge. While noble in their intent, their methods were suspect. Some sought to placate their demise by making deals with their inevitable destroyers. Such pacts had only ended in bloodshed and despair, as it brought about the most recent genocide against the Mandalorian people. It was an evil act that proverbially cemented their place in the universe; scattered pockets of a once-proud civilization, forced to survive off the scraps from another's table. That was no way to live, not as warriors nor as conquerors. Their martial prowess was blunted, and their culture became one of subservience - as they sold their blasters and blades in return for paltry sums of wealth.

Such scraps, be it of food, glory, or wealth, became intrinsically linked to their cultural values. Gone were the honourable days spent in the pursuit of glory on the battlefield. Their proud warrior spirit was broken and forced into a deathless slumber. But, some hadn't been broken by the weight of their forebearer's sins. They refused to inch themselves towards oblivion. These proud warriors were the Death Watch, Scions of the Taung's legacy, and the Mandalorian people's Avenging Sword. They refused to follow the Unworthy's path and escaped the terrible fate that befell a majority of their disparate people. Through their return to the Galactic stage, the smouldering embers of hope were rekindled. These Crusaders, as they were, sought to lead their people to a new and bright future.

To that end, many of these Warriors took up arms and led the charge against the Sith. They believed that more of their scattered kind would rally to their cause in avenging their fallen brothers and sisters. While noble in many respects, it did little to foster the longevity of their people. Sure, one could spend countless eons living aboard starships, plundering whatever worlds they came across - turning every avenging crusade into a battle for their very survival. But, in truth, such piracy could only get them so far. There would come a time that they would run out of worlds to ransack or face an enemy that they couldn't beat. And in defeat, there was a chance that the spark of hope - that better future the Death Watch yearned for, could be snuffed out in a heartbeat.

Thus, something more permanent was called for. Like the ancient Taung before them, the Mandalorians of the Death Watch would take to the stars searching for greener pastures. Many unpopulated worlds were suitable for their needs. Still, all paled compared to the system that would come to be known as Rakata Secundus. The other worlds they found were home to secret pockets of civilization, be it unregistered mining consortiums, black market operations, or even pirate alcoves. But, Rakata Secundus? That was a system that was found wholly by accident and chance. A minor malfunction in the Purgatory's hyperdrive had sent them careening off-course into an uncharted sector of space. The dungeon ship then found itself surrounded by mineral-rich asteroids and a distant bauble of a world - which painted itself as lush and vibrant against the backdrop of infinite night.​

​

Some within the ranks of the Death Watch believed this was a sign of providence from an uncaring universe, that this world would inevitably herald their salvation. The rest were just thankful that they found a world that was seemingly untouched by the Galaxy; where they could lay down their arms and rebuild without outside interference. That reprieve would be precisely what many within the ranks would need, as they had been fighting for as long as they could possibly remember. Besides, many relished the notion of taming an entire planet - making it their own, and even reliving the ancient tales of how their ancestral homeland was founded. Some even wished to find something akin to the great Mythosaur, those ancient creatures that thundered across the plains of Mandalore-that-was.

The anticipation and thirst for knowledge only mounted as the Purgatory approached the distant and wistfully spinning sphere. As they loomed ever closer, the sensor suite of the modified Dungeon ship began raking in more details with every sonorous sweep.

The surface was a combination of verdant and cerulean hues, denoting an abundance of terrestrial vegetation and water. These colours were further blended with various shades, each giving depth and scale to the landscape as the Starship's scans were rendered into holographic life. There were pockets of Ochre that clung to the equator and rimmed the edges of the continental masses. This ever-growing kaleidoscope was further graced by the colours of chalky-grey mountain ranges and ivory-hewn polar ice caps. In many respects, this world was a paradise - a primordial Garden of Eden that teemed with all manners of life. There would be much game to hunt and fish to spear, with all the water they could drink. It was… perfect in almost every way.

Such perfection made several Mandalorians suspicious. When everything began adding up, it all sounded too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with this world, something that the Death Watch wasn't seeing. But, as they anchored themselves in high orbit and completed their latest run of sensor sweeps - nothing evidently stood out to them. The atmosphere was classified as Type I and supposedly safe to breathe without the use of a breathing apparatus. There were no known contaminants or viral pathogens in the air, either. So, many began to ask - if a place as perfect as this exists, why hadn't it been exploited by the Intergalactic powers that be? There were so many questions, and sadly - too few answers.

That was when a small handful of Crusaders and Rally Masters stepped up to the plate. They would never get the answers they sought by remaining trapped in orbit. There would be no other way to confirm their findings. Thus, an expedition was marshalled with willing souls to occupy the seats of a handful of transports being sent down towards the surface. They were venturing into the unknown, with little more than the planet's topography in hand. In many respects, such an adventure was on the verge of suicide. But, therein lay the thrill of it. This was to be their first steps towards a bright and hopeful future - so why wouldn't they revel in this newfound challenge? It was their nature, after all, to struggle against impossible odds and emerge victoriously. Such was the Way of the Mandalore…
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They would either tame this planet as Hunters or be consumed as Prey...

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This is an Undiscovered World with untapped and unlimited potential. Take the time to explore this world and help us, as a Faction, develop our new Homeworld into something worthwhile. Danger lurks around every corner, and there’s a plethora of mysteries that need to be solved. The answers are out there, and it’s up to us to find them - together.

For the Watch!~ ​

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[Tae'l Vizsla]

P L A N E T F A L L

Rynn Vizsla | TBA​

Tayl had been careful to avoid her mother's watchful gaze that day, Waiting until Aloy Vizsla had boarded a drop ship to take her own Fang-Starfighter and approach a different landing zone all together.
That flight took the young clone right through the clouds and over the mountains, Streams and forests below, Gently gliding over this new Eden.
Sometimes, She would roll her craft just enough to watch the woodlands far below, Staring in complete awe at little more than trees.
How tempting it was, To open the cockpit and glide down through this fresh air with little more than a jetpack.
<"We're definitely not on Kamino anymore~">

But alas, She'd need to make herself useful before she could experience that beauty up close for herself. Mother didn't want her in the air or on the ground, So she'd have to find herself someone who did...

::Violet to friendly callsigns; Approaching LZ-2, Intent to assist ground RECON. Requesting permission to land, How copy?::
Well, It sounded official enough anyway. And it was the truth, She just didn't have orders was all. With any luck, She could make planetfall and join the scouts planet side.
Just the thought caused her emerald eyes to light up with anticipation. What wonders awaited down below? What natural splendor would she be the first to behold?

​

​

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

At first, he had woken to what he thought was a dream. Flashes of battles on a hundred worlds or more. Clanging of steel on beskar, crackle of fire and the reek of a charnel house. All this juxtaposed with a heavy, floating feeling. As if suspended in syrup, almost unable to move. Back into blackness he fell as blinding pain erupted all over his body, claiming his consciousness.

Minutes turned to hours, days, maybe weeks. Waking to flashes of reality, or of dreams, only to be claimed in a soporific cocktail back to oblivion. Memories from every suit of skin he had worn, every moment. Teaching his children to stand, beskad in hand, and his wife chiding him at his forge as he worked. The liberating of Coruscant from the One Sith with the Galactic Alliance. The Valley of the Jedi, forging against Draco. Learning from Ashin Cardé Varanin and his debt to her.

Then, unbidden, the face of an old foe swam in his mind's eye. Darth Carnifex . He disliked the man on a personal level before, now it bordered on a world burning rage. The gar'buir didn't take defeat, even one where neither side won, very well. And the words the Sith Lord had said as they fought clawed at his mind. This time he woke up in a bed, hooked to machines. Intravenous lines for medication and sustenance. A bacta-gel cast on his leg. Reality set in, and the aging supercommando sighed, barely maintaining a seated position as time and consciousness flowed over him, and his memory came back.

Ijaat had fought the former Dark Lord of the Sith. Acquitted himself well enough there was no need to be ashamed. Fell on top a horde of dead sith and bryn as he yanked an entire mythosaur skull down onto his opponent, wreathing it in flames and pulling far too much power through his body. That was likely what the bacta tried to heal. A body that had just had far too much done to it. Regardless, he kept calm. He vaguely remembered seeing buc'ye wearing vod in his last moments alert. The ever present words of every field medic, ever "Just relax, we're gonna take care of you. You'll be patched up and fine in no time"...

Casting eyes about the sterile white and durasteel room, he saw with relief his armor on a stand in the corner. Paired with the fact of his memory, the conversation, and the fact that his armor sat untouched, this meant he was in the hands of his former people. Very few others would have understood spoken mando'a, or respected and known the plea behind him asking them to 'leave the scars fresh'. With his own eyes, he wanted to see the damage from his fight. Standing wasn't so bad, the pain killers in his system kept him from too much sensation. But the dozen feet or so to his armor definitely made his woozy world wobble even further.

Amber eyes turned reflective. He had just painted the colors before the battle. Colors some might say he had no right to, and in truth he might not. The drab olive, yellow, white, and blue of a Commander of the Mandalorian Protectors. The rank he'd give up just fine. The right to wear the colors and bear the name of a Protector he'd fight until his final days. Memories kept him staring at the cuirass and tracing the clan symbol almost wholly burnt off the pauldron, of House Mereel and Clan Akun juxtaposed like a coat of arms, rampant, with a kyr'bes in between. The mythosaur skull was all that was left, almost like the 'signets' of some of these fledgling clans and youngsters. For a second a gruff smile lit his face at the thought as he traced, with fingers still regaining callouses, the scorched symbol of his familial heritage.

"They had the symbol of the Watch. Probably kill me if any were Vizsla and knew the symbol."

"Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la, vode. Cin vhetin..."

A man in fatigues with a breastplate, bearing the Death Watch symbol on a pauldron and Clan Vizsla on his chest, strapped around his torso Mandalorian style stood at the door he hadn't heard open. His face was craggy, rough, and he didn't smile, but he didn't glare either. His signature in the Force spoke of concern, focus, and curiosity... All tinged with respect oddly.

"Too few of us to quibble over the past like that. If you wear the armor and follow the Tenets... Then... You're welcome on the Crusade, at least in my eyes. Thought you might be up... You gave even me a rough time keeping you alive. Brought you fatigues, some food. Painkillers. You have freedom of the ship... Just check in a few times daily so we can see how the nerves and bone are healing in that leg. And stay out of the armor for a week if you can, gar'buir."

With that, the man administered the medication in silence. Left a tray of nerf steak, a tuber vegetable all mashed, and water. His body no longer had the need for alcohol or nicotine, but his mind ached for familiar comforts. Maybe when he wasn't still requiring supplemental oxygen and monitoring. For now, he got up and dressed, and at least belted on his pistol belt as he limped about the ship, to get a better idea of things.

Weeks later, he would be working in the armory when a call went out for volunteers to investigate "New Mandalore". He had taken no oaths but was also still repairing his armor, and taking time to get to know his hosts. With that, there was time for him to dedicate each day to training, learning, and testing his new body. And to help keep the ship running and the armory stocked. The armorer and quartermaster especially seemed to appreciate a veteran smith's knowledge, so time passed easily enough for him.

But now he stood hauling crates with others, setting up an advanced post for repair, refit, and resupply. And he breathed deeply of the air of a new world. Amongst once enemies, he felt a flicker of hope for his people, and a sense of belonging. Though, eventually, he was sure his identity would be found out. Most may not care, but some would. And that would take delicate talking, for sure.

Rynn Vizsla

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

A new home, a new chance, a new future for mandalorians.

A group of freighters emerged from hyperspace, in the main ship star looked out the view port towards the massive virgin planet before them. Lush with green and other colors star let a breath out at its beauty. Maybe this truely could become the new home fit the mandalorians, and if so there was a few generations of work that needed to be done. Pushing away she started through the corridors of the freighter, mind idly thinking, she had recently just escaped the clutches of the siths death watch, scars fresh on her body sent a burning hatred towards her core as her want to absolutely massacre any and all sith grew ten fold before it died down to a contained flame

A sigh escape her lips as she rubbed her forehead slightly, better to not focus on those things right now she needed to focus on the planet before then and the massive job, they had to settle on this planet. Some of clan solus had accompanied her, being they were beast tamers and hunters they were more then eager to see the fauna of the planet, while star was going to oversee the creation of farms that would supply food for the people.

The freighters would wait in orbit until the survey team found a nice suitable spot to set up shop, a smaller freighter loaded with machinery and farming equipment started it way slowly down. The ship whined a little as they began to enter the atmoshpere and down towards a clearing as they slowly came to a rest on the dirt, the crew began to offload and looked around the land, teams testing the soil while stardust started walking off in a random direction

She wanted to explore alone for a bit, see who she ran into

Rynn Vizsla

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

// Unknown Regions // Undiscovered Sector // Uncharted System //
// New Keldable - Fledgling Capital of New Mandalore //
​

It wasn’t long after their discovery that the Death Watch began their long-awaited colonization efforts. As their Flagship arrived through the most inconvenient ways, their first objective was to establish contact with the rest of their flotilla. To that end, the Forgemasters and their fellow Pilots in the Fighting Corps began establishing a hyperspace beacon and their communications network. But, such items weren’t readily available in the uncivilized frontier, which meant that they were pilfered from the Flagship and fashioned into an acceptable alternative. It wasn’t the most glamorous piece of technology that they ever fashioned, but it was enough to get the job done.

When these improvised devices came online, nothing but silence answered their call. Some even believed they were now lost to the strands of time, forgotten and alone in an uncaring universe. There were countless examples of starships that ran afoul of hyperspace anomalies; some were thrown forwards in time whilst others were catapulted backwards. As this Chaotic age progressed ever forward, examples of both anomalies became something of a commonplace occurrence. But, what seemed rarer still, was when a starship was thrown hundreds of parsecs from it’s destination.

Thus, only when the first Mandalorian starship dropped out of lightspeed was that their fears of being slaves to the ever-shifting tides of time were allayed. One couldn’t fathom the relief that was shared throughout the entirety of the Purgatory when they saw familiar faces. They weren’t in an alternate timeline nor stranded in the future, nor the past. It was the present, give or take a few days for time dilation, as well as the waiting period where everyone was collectively holding their breath. With such overwhelming tension and existential dread now gone and behind them, the Death Watch could move forward with their plans.

This was to be their new homeworld, after all.

As the rest of the flotilla spilled into the system, those now-ageing beacons and buoys were replaced with finely crafted replacements and outfitted with the best technologies they had to spare. That helped to stabilize their connection to the outside world. It also led towards the foundations of an early warning detection grid, something that was sorely needed in their ancestral homeland. Perhaps then, things would’ve turned out differently. But, that was the point of this entire endeavour, was it not? To never repeat the past mistakes and to move forward, forging a new future for their people amidst the Stars.

With those building blocks in place, the time had come to turn their attention towards the surface. Several parties had already gone to the surface. They were tasked with scouting out a good location for their first settlement. It had to be someplace near a fresh reservoir of water and fertile soil. There were plenty of places with one or the other, but very few had a collection of both. Those that weren’t suited for scouting, but were getting restless, found themselves hunting the local wildlife. They committed themselves to chase down whatever they could find, not only to learn about this new - strangle world but if the local game was edible. As one can imagine, some hunting parties fared better than others, especially in finding something that was remotely edible.

It wasn’t long after the Death Watch put boots on the ground that they found a spot suitable for a Colony of sorts. There would have to be some minor terraforming work done across one of the nearby ridges. Still, the location was close to a freshwater river teeming with alien fish and amphibious creatures. They were even lucky to be near enough to the grazing grounds of several herd beasts that would serve the budding colony well. Either through the durability of their hides - to make clothing or reinforce their housing units or to feed their families for the foreseeable future. The wellspring of fish was the primary reason for choosing that landing site, but adding in the herd beasts too? The Mandalorians found themselves a piece of paradise to call their own.

A steady stream of shuttles from the orbiting flotilla began transferring down towards the planet when the landing site was chosen. Soon after they touched down, the first tents were being erected, coupled with several prefabricated buildings that had been stolen during the Death Watch’s many raids. Within a week, their settlement began taking shape. Ultrasonic pylons were stitched throughout the perimeter, meant to ward away the curious creatures that mistakenly believed that they were welcomed within the budding walls of the Mandalorian encampment. There was even a growing medical district within the settlement. Some of the Warriors that elected to hunt the wildlife - often returned with fresh wounds and new stories to tell. They needed enough room to support that ever-growing number of wounded and care for their own - who freshly arrived to the planet’s surface.

Rynn was proud of how far they had come. There was a moment that the young Vizsla believed that his Kin would’ve forsaken the Death Watch in their quest for new Mandalore. That the Mandalorian’s ties to their ancestral and adoptive homeworld would’ve been too strong, that they would’ve been shackled to the fate that others had laid out for them. But, the prospect of a second chance was too alluring. This world was a chance for their people to rebuild what was stolen from them. They could sow fields of grain with their own hands, rather than tending to the ashes of what came before. He saw something different in his Kindred’s eyes as this settlement began to take shape.
​

It was hope.​

Such emotion was a powerful one. In the past, the mere notion of hope made ten people feel like a hundred or that a ragtag group of outlaws and near-do-wells could take on a Galactic Empire. Who knew what kind of power it would give the disparate Mandalorian people? Perhaps, that was why the Sith sought to orchestrate the downfall and eradication of their Culture. They feared what a Mandalorian could do when they experienced hope. While such a notion was nothing but conjecture, the Rally Master couldn’t help but smile at the thought. His smile remained as he casually walked through the new-formed streets of the encampment. Only to grow ever wider when the man saw the buoyant faces of soot-stained children playing in a tent nearby.

There was a future here, something that was denied to them on the ashen fields of Mandalore-that-was. There was too much old blood spilled, and it salted the earth - making the whole planet unsustainable. Sure, there was history there - a legacy that was built with the hands of their forebearers. But, that storied history wouldn’t feed starving children nor allow for their people to thrive. They were holding onto an idea that had long since died, unwilling to adapt with the ever-flowing tides of time. They were fools, Rynn thought to himself. Like every Mandalorian, the Rally Master was weaned on the stories of those who came before. While their archives were incomplete, a legend told of their spiritual ancestors and their flight from their homeland. They called this world Notron.

They abandoned their planet in search of greener pastures - not because they had seen to their world’s demise, but rather because it was the only way for them to survive. Because of that story alone, it often puzzled Rynn as to why the Mandalorian’s of today repeatedly refused to walk in their ancestors’ shoes. Sadly, that was a question that the man believed couldn’t be answered. Everyone had their own way of doing things, especially since their actions were undoubtedly influenced by their experiences. Such diversity amongst their Culture’s collective made it nearly impossible to align everyone’s goals perfectly.

But that was where the Sith came in. They meddled in the affairs of Mandalorians for far too long, and many within their collective ranks knew that justice would only come at the tip of a spear. Thus, through bloody vengeance and a burgeoning crusade, they were collectively united towards a common goal. At least for the time being. Who knew how long this unsteady alliance between the disparate Clans would last? Rynn let out a heavy sigh then. His mind was starting to fill with too many questions festering without answers, and it was beginning to sour his mood. As the air was expelled from his lungs, the Rally Master refocused on his surroundings - trying to clear his mind of everything that gripped him before.

He was standing near the edge of the encampment, now. The Death Watch had established a string of improvised landing zones and platforms to better support the incoming auxiliary shuttles and dropships. There was a small prefabricated shelter nearby, where what seemed like a dozen Crusaders occupied the interior and exterior alike. Some wielded the tools of their trade, marking them out as either mechanics or engineers. Others were seated at a row of terminals, acting as the Orbital and Air Traffic Controllers - guiding newcomers to their respective landing sites. As Rynn was walking past, the man overhead one of the O/ATC Crusaders speaking to an incoming starfighter and their Pilot, someone who went by the callsign of Violet.

:: Violet, this is New Keldable “Starport” ATC. You are cleared to proceed to Platform Three-Aurek on your current heading. Might have to vector your thrust as you make your final approach, however, as some local wildlife is coming towards the sonic fences and might get in your way. Other than that, Welcome “Home.”::

Rynn’s brow cocked as the Crusader spoke. It was odd that some of the wildlife liked to venture this close to their encampment. Even with the sonic barriers up, they should’ve been dissuaded from coming close enough to be a problem to any starships landing on the platforms. Perhaps they were adapting to their new environments or were far too curious for their own good. The Rally Master couldn’t be sure. He shook his head, smiled, and continued on his way. For what seemed like an age, the Mandalorian kept his thoughts to himself as he plodded towards and eventually passed the perimeter fence. The encapsulating structure wasn’t anything fancy, as it was a combination of Ironwood beams and metallic bracing. The sonics were considered enough for the time being. But, having something physical to ward off the larger and more curious creatures helped ease the non-militant minds of the Death Watch.

It was much easier to farm in peace than having to ward off dozens of scavengers seeking to feast on the grain after all.

And, to speak of peace, Rynn found himself eventually standing at the edge of the nearby flowing river. The man had lost himself in his thoughts, allowing time and distance to fade away into the dark recesses of his mind. They were inconsequential now, especially when such deeds had led him towards this abundant stream. Without a word, the Rally Master removed his Jetpack and the woven cloak that often accompanied it and placed both against the gnarled roots of a nearby tree. Partially disrobed, the Mandalorian pulled a silvered cylinder off the magnetized plating covering the small of his back. With a flick of his thumb, the cylinder expanded outwards - forming a spear, inscribed with an intricate series of runic script.

It was one of the relics taken from the Death Watch’s sacking of the ancient Jedi temple, and in many ways - had become one of Rynn’s most prized possessions. His life had been saved on many occasions because of this weapon, especially when he was pitted against hostile Sorcerers belonging to either the Jedi or Sith. While no life or anima existed within the weapon, the Rally Master silently thanked the Spear for being there for him when it was needed most. As soon as that moment of uncharacteristic, almost-religious-like observance was complete - the Crimson-armoured figure began to wade into the heart of the stream.

He lifted the Spear, and just as he began to fall still - becoming one with the stream - his eyes noticed something, correction, someone walking nearby. Rynn lowered the Spear then, gently dipping the tear-drop point into the water. As the person moved closer, their identity became all-the-more clear. Stardust was someone he encountered back on the moon of Mandalore-that-was during their raid of Fortress Imperious. He didn’t see much of her following that encounter, as many events transpired that required his attention - but he was pleased to see that she had made it here.

:: Stardust! :: Rynn said, as his helmet turned towards the approaching armoured Twi’lek. :: It’s been a spell since Concordia, and it’s good to see you alive and well. What brings you to our little corner of the galaxy? ::​

~-~*~-~

| Tae'l Vizsla | Ijaat Mereel | Stardust Solus Skirae |
​

 

[Pre]

The ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a large greenish orb. Pre had been sitting in a passenger seat trying to keep it together. He still hadn't gotten used to hyperspace travel, especially not long journeys like this one to the complete other side of the galaxy. He imagined he'd adjust eventually, the few other people he had traveled with seemed to handle it fine but it kept him feeling a little queasy. Hell, he still hadn't even tried his hand at piloting. That was all up to the astromech on board. But seeing this planet from a distance out the cockpit window--for a second, he felt fine. He was relieved that the journey was about to be over and couldn't wait to see what it had in store.

Pre had received the transmission about a week earlier, but at the time he had been a long way off and preoccupied. He'd only had the chance to respond just now. For some Mando'ade this may have been a bittersweet journey, leaving behind a home you loved and treasured was always hard. But for Pre, that was not the case. He'd never actually set foot on Manda'yaim. Sure, he'd heard stories of the world and longed to visit it someday--even if it was just a smoldering pile of ash at this point--but in a way it felt as distant as the Taungs. A relic of the past.

He was excited, overjoyed. In a way this new planet was symbolic of the exact reason Pre had joined Death Watch Crusade. He wanted a new beginning. An opportunity to forge a life with honor and purpose. This world represented that, not just for him, but for everyone. It was also his first chance to truly meet the crusaders. Up until now, he'd only had interactions with a select few individuals. Now was the time to determine if he truly had a place in this galaxy. The last few years had been hard--he had felt like a man against the universe. He hoped that was about to change. The ship careened through the atmosphere and down to the planet below. It landed on one of the makeshift landing pads that had been set up. Pre took a moment to compose himself and try to shake off the sickness. He didn't want to make a bad first impression. The landing gear began to lower and he took a deep breath, gathering himself together.

The landing gear clanked down and Pre looked out at the world for the first time. He was speechless. He stood still in a temporary state of shock. He'd never seen anything like it. The bulk of his life had been spent on a literal rock, the rest of it had been spent fighting in a seedy underworld. He wasn't sure grass could be this green and vibrant. The planet was teeming with life unlike anything he'd ever know. It truly was a new beginning.

 

[Khyr Beviin]

For the longest time, the idea of Mandalore had been foreign. The man who had brought him into the culture had become a wandering mercenary, staying away from the wars that had poisoned the home planet of their culture time and again. Khyr hadn't ever truly understood why he had stayed away, but habits learned when growing up sometimes became habits you kept. Khyr had never seen Mandalore that was on anything other than a star map from some other portion of the galaxy.

Yet, when the call went out to found a new Mandalore, he had felt a pull to answer. To join in the endeavor to plant their culture into new soil and help it grow once again. His mentor had passed from life years ago, and a topic such as this had never come up. Khyr had to go on his instinct, and that brought him here, stepping off of the ramp of a dropship that had carried other armored warriors.

Khyr stepped aside and took in the encampment he had landed in. He had never seen so many vod in one place before, and a war of emotions stirred within him. Trepidation on whether he'd be accepted, he was a foundling trained by someone who was essentially a stellar nomad disconnected from others of the creed. Awe at the sheer scale of what they were trying to accomplish here, and a complete lack of knowledge about what to do next. He was here, he had answered the call, and now he needed to find out where he'd be useful.

A howl came from off to his left, a mix of something biological and the sound of a sonic barrier interacting with said something. He checked the charge on his rifle and began to move towards the sonic fence to see what had made that noise. If the encampment was coming under attack, he knew where he'd be useful for the next little while at the very least.

@Any​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Rynn Vizsla

She walked through the lush flora, hands reaching down to brush against the many plants she'd likely cataloge eventually or least got info on. Rushing water filled her mind as well as the smell of fresh water, moving further she came out to a river with a figure standing in it with a spear, a hand went to her blaster as she approached before she stood tall and offered a half smile hand moving away as she approached casually now

I've been pretty busy

As she got a little closer he could see some new scars on her face going from her cheek over her nose and stopping at her forehead. Moving to the river she stopped at its edge as she crouched and reached a hand down to feel it as she smiled

I'm coming home, that's what, I've already heard theres plans to settle here. A new home for our people

She stood as she looked over the land, she hoped to see it remain the same

so I had to come home, i brought some food supplies and stuff to get some farms started, I figured they'd be useful

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

// Unknown Regions // Undiscovered Sector // Uncharted System //
// New Keldable - Fledgling Capital of New Mandalore //
​

When the colonization efforts first began, Rynn mistakenly assumed that they had everything they needed. That whatever they fell short of could be provided from the land they tamed in short-order. However, as one setback rolled into another - the initial wave of colonists found themselves running short on the essentials. So much so that the Purgatory’s reserve stores soon found themselves drained so that they could support the growing populace on the planet’s surface below.

Everything they had taken during their countless raids and acts of spatial piracy found a place amongst the colonists. Very little found itself uprooted from the verdant lands surrounding them. Even the nearby Ironwood grove, whose bounty served as the foundations for many structures - including the compound’s perimeter fence - was sparingly taken from.

Many feared what might occur if they fell prey to the desire to hyper-industrialize before their surroundings were tamed or even ready for such a change. Some even cited their ancestral grounds turning to ash and sand as the fires of industry and war swept over the plains. That couldn’t - nor wouldn’t happen here. The world that was to become New Mandalore was not only to be their fresh start but a symbol of hope for those that held true to the creed. Their culture wasn’t dead, nor were their people.

Thus, with such thoughts in mind, Rynn couldn’t help but smile. Though the gesture was shrouded by the conical nature of his crimson barbute, the subtle dip of his head undoubtedly signalled his gratitude.

:: I’m sure they’ll be more than useful, :: the Rally Master replied. :: We’ve slowly begun testing the local wildlife and soil but lacked the specialized equipment too. It hasn’t been easy for our Farmers. They’re too used to the ashen wastelands or the domes. But, they’ll adapt. It’s what we do best, after all. ::

:: You have my gratitude, :: Rynn continued. :: Not only for making the journey out here, nor for the food and supplies. Many within our ranks weren’t sure how this would all play out, especially my Father. He believed this was some fool’s errand, at first. That we were wasting our time while the souls of the fallen went unavenged. ::

He paused for a moment, then. His gaze shifted, tearing itself away from the Emerald-hewn Twi’lek and falling upon the stream flowing about his armoured greaves. The spear, too, found itself gently breaking the tension of the river’s surface.

:: The fact that you’re already starting to call this place home? It gives me hope. :: The tone of his voice changed, then, too. It shifted to something more distant, as if the man’s mind was elsewhere, burdened by some unknowable malaise. :: No longer do we have to live within the squalor of our own starships. Where our children would grow old, knowing nothing of solid ground beneath their feet. This world gives us a chance that Mandalore never could. It gives us a chance to start over… to reclaim our pride as a people. ::

Abandoning Mandalore wasn’t an easy decision. There was so much History and Culture, oozing from what sparse collections of soil there were. It was a symbol of all they had achieved. But, that was all it was - or ever could be. There was no hope for a future on that blighted rock. If they sought to reseed the world, to make it whole once more… countless generations would pass before it would be made habitable again. The terraforming efforts were too great. The Mandalorian Union had proven that, as had many Faction’s before. Thus, if their people were to survive - a new symbol would have to be found.
​

One that would allow those who survived the Purge to carry the lessons of the past towards a brighter tomorrow.​

:: I’m sorry, :: Rynn said, after a moment of silent reflection. :: There’s much on my mind as of late. ::

There was a flash of silver that glinted in the corner of his visor. With all the speed that he could muster, the Rally Master drove the tip of the spear down towards the riverbed. Muted by the sounds of the rushing stream, the beautifully crafted weapon crunched against bone, and the stones beneath. He nodded once, as if the gesture itself would reorient his thoughts - and as if he was satisfied with the seemingly timed strike.

:: But, :: the Rally Master continued, as he lifted the spear - and the wriggling fish thereafter - from the water’s depths. :: I see that you have a new collection of stories to tell. :: The gesture that followed after denoted the new scars that adorned Stardust’s face. A subtle tilt of the helmet, coupled with descending fingers across the front of his iconic visor.
​

:: Would you be interested in sharing those tales - while I clean this fish? ::

~-~*~-~
Stardust Solus Skirae​