Private Writing in the Stars

[Zavar Kelborn]

BLOOD, ICE, AND STEEL - CHAPTER 1
KESTRI
TAG: Romul Saxon | Vren Rook
GEAR: in bio

DREAM ON

[Continuing from: Shadows in the Vein]​

The ramp of the Kar'ta Kelborn hissed open, venting the ozone-heavy air of the recent Shadow-Mantax engagement into the biting frost of Kestri. Zavar stepped onto the landing pad, his boots crunching through a fresh layer of snow that seemed too pure for the work he had just completed.

The matte-black surface of his Beskar breastplate was no longer pristine. At its center sat the dried handprint of Careena Fett ; a visceral brand of iron and blood that had survived the vacuum of space and the heat of a hyperlane skirmish. Behind him, the heavy, rhythmic thud of armored boots announced his new retinue: the iron-bound warriors of Clan Fett and Clan Munin. They were the logs he had promised to bring back to the fire, and their presence turned the landing pad into a staging ground for a new era.

The Alor of Clan Kelborn marched directly toward the council chamber where the Rekav'dral awaited. The interior of the hall was a sanctuary of heat and shadow, the air thick with the smell of roasting meat and the steady hum of Kestri's pulse.

He found them there: Vren Rook and Romul Saxon . Zavar stopped at the edge of the firelight, the orange glow catching the crimson stain on his chest.

“The Storyfire is lit, but it is starving,” Zavar began, his voice a low, resonant rasp that carried the weight of the deep void. “We have spent centuries defending the dirt under our boots, but the galaxy is trying to pull us under.”

He tapped the dried blood on his chestplate, the legitimacy of his claim shrieking sharp in the quiet hall.

“I have brought you the blood-oaths of those who pledged their life to the endurance of our people.”

Zavar leaned forward, the firelight reflecting in his steady, unblinking eyes.

"Alor Rook, you are the Echo-Speaker; you hold the memory of who we were. Alor Saxon, you are the Flameward; you guard the flame of who we are today. But a fire in a closed room eventually runs out of air. To endure, we must carry the fire to the stars."

He looked between the two leaders, his posture rigid and unyielding.

“The Fett and the Munin are the first of many. The path is set, and the first marks are made in blood. All we need is a Voidbrand; the hand that carries the Hearth and the Storyfire through the voids.”
​

 

[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Kestri​

Tags: Zavar Kelborn | Vren Rook

The roaring fire of the hall of the Rekav'dral cast a warm glow over the chamber as embers flitted from the flame, rising on the updraft towards the high duracrete ceiling. The hall had been carved into the ruins of the fallen Iyarsa Spire which had collapsed in the when the Vong had overrun Tor Valum. It had been the former administrative center of the Enclave. Now in its ruins, or rather from its ashes, a flame roared anew.

Romul Saxon, Alor of Clan Saxon, once Akaan'alor and now bestowed the title of Flameward, stood watching the flames, his crimson and gold beskar'gam highlighted by the orange fire. It reminded him of a different hearth decades ago on Roon, a different age. But the feeling was the same. The uncertainty. The hiding. The Enclave was gone, and so was their security. He had been given a title, yes, and he still led his Clan, but to what end? To stifle the shame he carried from the Crusades? To wipe the stain from his armor?

Though he would never admit it out loud, he missed the guiding hand of the Quartermaster. Mistep one after another had been his rule; hers had guided the Mando'ade from the brink of extinction to domination. She had been taken from her people too soon. Now he was a guard of a flame that had long since died out.

His attention was drawn towards the entering retinue of Mandalorians, and he turned to face his body towards them. He noticed at their front Zavar Kelborn, who had helmed the frigate at the incursion against the Shadow Mantax. Romul himself had been there at that operation and had seen the young Alor in action.

Romul could see the fire in the young warrior's heart. He'd seen that fire in so many like him who had died on Tython, in the Crusades, fighting against the Vong, and across a thousand nameless battlefields.

"A fire that burns too quickly soon dies out," he rumbled. "The warrior who carries the responsibility of Voidbrand must temper passion with discipline. The Mythos fleet must not only rage; it must endure." He looked to Rook, another veteran of times past. Romul himself was unconvinced of the matter.

 

[Vren Rook]

VETERAN
TOR VALUM | KESTRI
TAG: Zavar Kelborn | Romul Saxon

LOOKING FOR THE SUMMER​

The burden of leadership.

It weighed heavily on Vren, yet he saw the good this endeavour could do. One last push - he just had to give it one more. He owed it to their people - his Alor back then was one of the main people that had delivered Mandalore to the Sith. Preserve this culture, this People, beyond planet, beyond ideals. They had survived this far - they can truly live past survival in this new endeavour born out of the ashes that once was such a constant in his life. Had given him the family he had longed for.

Had made him one of the fathers of a nation.

Kelborn had commed ahead to meet them in the Hall of Echoes, so Vren and Romul were around the ever-burning Storyfire, each old man caught in his own thoughts.

Vren continuously feeling like he was failing his people despite his best efforts. He had failed his own son, after all. How on earth was he to keep the rest on the right track when he couldn't even keep his own life straight?

He was seated, his elbows resting on his knees, staring into the fire - the typical heat of it bringing him close to his own doubts. He had never been ready to take over the role of Guildmaster, yet he had taken the mantle as was expected - as was voted. Not that the title had prevented the war with the Alliance back then - he had never agreed with Kranak about it and Runi had taken the middle as was expected from a Mando'karla. The result was a loss that could still be felt to this day.

Yuri had echoed what Valery had said to Vren on Kiffu about the boy's mother's death. So much could have been prevented if Kranak had only asked the Jedi asked the same.

If only she hadn't pulled both sabers on him too.

He never meant to engage an old ally.

Zavar marched into the Hall, the firelight dancing against the crimson of his cuirass, shaking Vren from his thoughts. His voice was unwavering as it echoed through the Hall and the crackling of the fire.

“The Fett and the Munin are the first of many. The path is set, and the first marks are made in blood. All we need is a Voidbrand; the hand that carries the Hearth and the Storyfire through the voids.”

Vren chewed on what the younger man was telling them. It was clear the spark had taken root in some of them - the fire only had to be cultivated.

It also seemed that Romul was thinking among the same kind of lines.

"A fire that burns too quickly soon dies out," he rumbled. "The warrior who carries the responsibility of Voidbrand must temper passion with discipline. The Mythos fleet must not only rage; it must endure."

His and Romul's eyes met. They had both seen what happens if things weren't tempered. Yet Vren knew the younger ones better than most. He also knew, from the experience of his own goddaughter, that if you harnessed them too much, the younger ones became wild animals set on exploding in whichever direction.

He absent-mindedly scratched his head where the slug would have embedded that morning on Tatooine.

"Romul speaks true, Alor Kelborn." he started as he filtered through his thoughts. "Yet there is no deniability of what you have achieved on behalf of the Covenant in securing Careena Fett and her forces' allegiance. Hoylin is a valuable ally in the endeavour to endure." he continued, still measuring his words.

"I would ask you a question, Alor Kelborn - should you hold the seat, how do you plan to continue the burning of the Storyfire, but cultivate it to endure beyond all our lifetimes? To not allow the fire to die out once we are all gone?"

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

BLOOD, ICE, AND STEEL - CHAPTER 1
KESTRI
TAG: Romul Saxon | Vren Rook
GEAR: in bio

DREAM ON ​

Zavar shifted his weight, the firelight catching the dried blood on his chestplate as he looked Vren directly in the eye. He didn't answer with the haste of a young man seeking glory, but with the reflection of an Alor with the weight of a nation on his back.

"We cultivate the fire by realizing that a lantern only protects a flame until the oil runs out," Zavar began, his voice low. "Kestri is our homeland, the stone that shaped our bones and the dirt that holds our history, but it cannot be our limit. If the Storyfire stays within these walls, what guarantees that Kestri will not face the same fate as Mandalore? We must make the Roaming Hearth our soul. We turn the fleet into a mobile cradle, ensuring that our children learn the Way not from the safety of a fortress, but from the rhythm of the stars. If Kestri falls, the fire lives on a hundred different decks; if one ship is lost, the hearth is rekindled on the next."

He turned his gaze toward Romul, acknowledging the veteran's warning about passion and discipline.

"Legitimacy comes from the blood we've spilled to protect one another, but endurance comes from the size of the pyre we build together. We have spent too long as scattered embers, dying out in isolation while we argued over who held the truest spark. One clan is a spark that can be stomped out. Three clans are a bonfire. A hundred clans are a supernova. We cultivate endurance by making it impossible for one of us to fall without the others pulling them back up."

Zavar gestured to the Fett and Munin warriors standing in the shadows behind him, living proof of the unity he preached.

"As Voidbrand, I will lead the Mythos Fleet to gather the scattered tribes from their hidden enclaves and minority corners of the galaxy. We will bring them back to the heat of the Covenant, adding their stories to our own until the Storyfire is so vast that no empire in the galaxy has enough breath to blow it out. We don't just rage against the dark, Alor Saxon. We outshine it by building something that will truly endure."​

 

[Romul Saxon]

F L A M E W A R D
Kestri
​

Tags: Zavar Kelborn | Vren Rook

"As Voidbrand, I will lead the Mythos Fleet to gather the scattered tribes from their hidden enclaves and minority corners of the galaxy. We will bring them back to the heat of the Covenant, adding their stories to our own until the Storyfire is so vast that no empire in the galaxy has enough breath to blow it out. We don't just rage against the dark, Alor Saxon. We outshine it by building something that will truly endure."

"Hmph." Romul grunted. He appraised the youth that stood before him -- youth in comparison to himself, who had years too many to count. Behind the fiery will that burned off the Kelborn warrior like the hearth that roared behind Romul, he sensed a hardened iron resolve at his core.

Warriors like Zavar were the Mando'ade's future. Romul needed to stoke their fire and temper their steel so that they could write the next verse of the singer's sagas.

"I judge you worthy to make your claim," Romul announced as he folded his arms. Of course, it would require assent from Rook as well to legitimize the Rekav'drahl's recognition of a claimant. They ruled by unanimity; no tyrant would lead the Covenant, but a fractured will was about as useful as a beskad broken in two. "The Manda will decide if your claim is good. In the Roche system is a Mandalorian beastmaster, Ninurta. Our intelligence tells us his covert is battling a beskar smuggling operation plaguing their resources. You are to bring him and his mando'ade to our fold; perhaps by eliminating the smugglers, you will win their favor."