What Makes A Good Clan?

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Calico Tal'verda"] | [member="Melina Tervho"]

Amongst the Clans of Mandalorians there were few of note.

Ordo, Skirata, Betna and Garon. Vereen and Dem'adas. Rekali. Ordo was silent these days... diplomacy, healing, agriculture, they kept to themselves and didn't bother no one, until called at least. When the banners were called and the situation was direst they were there on the front lines to aid their siblings. Skirata... builders, more. The old Builder was growing older and new faces were popping up, mercenaries, men and women of fortune who sold their bullets and protection to the highest bid, seemingly.

Betna, hunters, Anija and Arrbi were the pillars of the Protectors and kept the Clans from looking inward for destruction purposes. Garon... ah, now that was a story, with ol' Strider killed dead by the Deathwatch? Ain't much holding those bands of warriors together - thin lines, they keep on going, but for how long?

Ain't that the million credit question.

Vereen and Dem'adas. Corporations within clans, mercenaries and merchants. They be the economical powerhouses of the Clans, yes, but the letter of the contract mattered more to them than the spoken word of friendship. There was more to say, always was, but time was running short.

Clan Rekali. Elijah's Clan. The clan, as far as he was concerned. They ruled the Gordian Reach. Kept it safe, kept it decentralized so no one big strike could swipe 'em off the board. Used to be predominantly imbued with light. Until Roche karked that the hell up and down.

Now things were changing, slowly. Always slowly. Can't break through years of tradition in one fell swoop. But Eli was already happy things were moving about. Too much stagnation ain't ever a good idea.

They were sitting at the edge of the Reel. One of the waystations scattered across that treacherous and above all weird nebula the Rekalis had chosen to populate and colonize. Closed cantina, the owner had given them the room on account of Elijah's roots.

"Tal'verda." even here Eli wore his armor. According to the Resol'nare, according to the tenets. "Clan Rekali recognizes your claim to the name. What would you have of us?"

Formal words. Recognition of Clan Tal'verda in honest after some fringe elements of the clan had done much to feth up its old reputation. He had heard of Deathwatch attacks, infringing upon Tal'verda's territory on Mandalore, but Elijah didn't know how far it ran.

Too busy figuring out where his and him stood in the war against the Republic.

 

[Revenchent]

His daughter had karked up everything.

His son was to be the Alore when his time came. Instead, brash, inexperienced Rawnie had taken it upon herself to run the clan into the ground. He'd heard the rumors of what had happened; how the girl had stirred up trouble with the Alore Council. The vast majority of the clan had not agreed with her decisions, but the right of succession was something the Tal'verda, and the varied smaller clans that lived within their frozen lands, tended to adhere to. He was going to have to change that.

Upon his return from the Rift War, Cal had taken great care in repairing the damage. The Tal'verda had once been a name to be worn with pride; a title of heritage and martial skill. While it was true that they had rarely intermingled with the other clans unless absolutely necessary, such an ugly reputation did not befit the people that Galaar had died for.

Steps needed to be taken to reunite the clan and bring it back into good graces. While it pained Cal to leave Kurs'taylir and its holdings behind, there were other matters that needed attending to. The city's elders could keep the peace for a time, but the radical Death Watch sympathizers out in the snow banks were a very real threat.

Their alliance of mutual benefit with the Garons had faded away as Strider drew his last breaths. The Vizslas had gone up in smoke. Tal'verda had no alliances, thanks to the work of its stand in leader.

Those of the Rekali might do.

"Rekali," Cal bowed his head in momentary respect, "I'll be blunt. Our relationship with the other clans has evaporated, as I'm sure you well know."

Rawnie's deeds had been the talk of the entire Mandalorian sector for awhile. What she had done was laughable. Unfortunately, few outsiders knew that her takeover of the clan had not been endorsed; that her words were generally ignored by the masses.

"Death Watch is a popular topic as of late. For us, their sympathizers are a constant threat. In many years past, the Tal'verda allied with Death Watch. That time is gone, but some of our people still remember the glory days." Cal grimaced as he sipped from his glass of Balmoraan Bluesky. "Things are unstable. We have attacks every other day."

He paused.

"I want to know what we need to do to secure Rekali's favor if things fall by the wayside."

Blue eyes shifted to Mel. Bodyguard though she might be, Cal valued her opinion. He wanted to know if she approved.

[member="Elijah Rekali"], [member="Melina Tervho"]

 

[Melina Tervho]

Tactically, the meeting made sense. Death Watch was proving to be a formidable foe and they had yet to uncover anything on them to allow them to gain the upper hand to stop the attacks on the settlements within the Tal’verda holdings. Mel’s new presence around the chieftain had caused a minor stir at first, however her tireless efforts to safeguard the people of those cold, snowy lands had earned her at least a little goodwill with the elders. It also helped that she seemed to be completely disinterested in anyone or anything that wasn’t putting a round between the eyes of anyone who decided to kark with the Tal’verda’s that day.

She wore no beskar, for she had none. True, she was born a Tervho, a small but tight knit clan in the Vhett lands on Concord Dawn, but for all anyone could see, she was aruetii. She would joke about being half Mandalorian sometimes in private; she could safeguard his clan, answer the call, and speak the language but she had not earned the honor of beskar yet. In fact, she felt that the deeds of her former employment disqualified her on principle alone.

Arguments for another day, when the threats were over.

She was drinking bourbon this time, the place Rekali picked was traveled enough to have a decent stock of it. Her long black hair ornamented with a neon pink streak on one side was drawn back from her face in a ponytail so that her cold, icy eyes were visible. She wore a black tactical suit, a pair of DC-17’s holstered on her hips.

The fingers of her left hand rested around the rim of the glass, as she swirled it gently around, her eyes shifting around the room, looking for possible hostiles hidden by the bar, the furniture, you name it. She did not get a chance to clear the room ahead of the meeting and it wasn’t as if she didn’t trust the Rekali.

Well, actually, it was just like that.

She trusted Cal. Everyone else could go pound sand. Her eyes met his as he looked to her but she said nothing. Her eyebrows raised slightly, a little expectantly as if to say “Let’s see what he has to say, ner vod.”

[member="Calico Tal'verda"] [member="Elijah Rekali"]