Get in the water
What legacy shall I leave behind, when I return to the Manda?
Will I be remembered as a hero, a savior, a great unifier? Or will my name be reviled as that of another betrayer to my people, a loathsome and accursed name doomed to be forgotten by all?
Do I perform such mighty deeds out of true heroism, or do I merely chase glory, desperate to be remembered?
Those thoughts had been haunting Jenn ever since she took the mantle of Alor of Clan Kryze, carrying the burden of leadership with an undeniable measure of nobility. Once a humble and contented metalsmith, the Mandalorian rose from relative obscurity as repeated clashes finally led to an open war between the Enclave for whom she had dedicated many years of her life... and the immense might of the Galactic Alliance, the sole claimant to the title of superpower. Unlike those who proudly accepted the designation of Crusader, her own zeal was tempered with compassion - and, in the end, her eyes were opened to the painful truth: her people had become naught but bloodthirsty raiders putting on airs, cloaking themselves in self-righteousness as they pretended to the prestigious honor and glory they were once known for. Thoroughly disheartened (and equally disgusted) by that realization, Jenn led her people in a self-imposed exile from the Mandalorian Enclave, keeping to the northern edges of the charted regions of the galaxy as they erred in search of meaning.
What had once been a broken Clan with few living survivors was reinvigorated by her efforts, as the force of Jenn's will proved to be nothing short of titanic. She had gathered to her banner ruthless mercenaries and dishonored murderers alike and turned them into saviors and heroes, their loyalty to her so great that they followed her without question as they threw themselves against the Dark Empire's elite brutetroopers. Resolute and cunning, the Alor proved to be an atypical ruler, for a Mandalorian; her claim to the mantle of leadership was rooted in her unique vision, rather than her skill as a duelist.
With the Dark Empire pushed off of Onderon (or, as some theorized, marking a retreat after accomplishing whatever goal they had for the world) and the remnants of its forces left stranded on the planet hunted down, a mere warlord would seize the opportunity to loot the world or take it over for their own, with its royal guard all but broken. Jenn, however, set out to win over the population. In the capital of Iziz, the mighty warriors of Clan Kryze rescued those still trapped in the debris, distributed supplies and ensured a bloodless resolution to any unrest; on more than one occasion, those who once stood on the battlefield against the Alliance worked alongside its forces to better aid the local populace, if begrudgingly.
The presence of beskar-clad warriors on Onderon was bound to draw the attention of the queen eventually. The brutal and sudden assault by the invaders may have left the royal guard with but few surviving members, but the reigning monarch certainly had no to let a large group of warriors answering to none but themselves unaccounted for. Before she could hope to coordinate efforts between her surviving forces and any aid the Galactic Alliance may be willing to give her to confront the Mandalorians, however, a lone messenger arrived at the palace, carrying word from the Alor of Clan Kryze.
And with it, a humble request for an audience.
Onderon was no strangers to Mandalorians, having once counted
Veshok Rook
and his kin among them. The memory they held of those Mandalorians, however, did little to prepare the monarch for Jenn. Although no stranger to politics, if only because of the demands of leadership, the Alor was markedly unskilled (and equally uninterested) in the matters of etiquette and proper form. No, the woman who stood before the sovereign was a warrior, her armor and flesh still marked by the scars of the conflict, and she spoke as a warrior. And it was because of this earnestness that the two reached an accord.
Veshok Rook
and his kin among them. The memory they held of those Mandalorians, however, did little to prepare the monarch for Jenn. Although no stranger to politics, if only because of the demands of leadership, the Alor was markedly unskilled (and equally uninterested) in the matters of etiquette and proper form. No, the woman who stood before the sovereign was a warrior, her armor and flesh still marked by the scars of the conflict, and she spoke as a warrior. And it was because of this earnestness that the two reached an accord.
Although her intent had always been to save the lives of her subjects, the Queen's orders for the remaining military forces to lay down their arms and the citizenry to comply left the seeds of bitterness in the hearts of many - particularly those brave souls who chose to make a stand against their oppressors... and with Onderon's might crippled in the wake of such a brutal, if short-lived occupation, the sovereign's fears of unrest were bound to be realized. Not content with slaughtering unarmed civilians by firing squads in an effort to crush those pockets of resistance still holding strong, the Empire had seized a significant amount of supplies, equipment, and raw resources from the city and its surroundings. That several of those shipments had been waylaid by the Alliance and Clan Kryze and returned to the people made little difference in the end; mere drops in a bucket.
Announced a few weeks in advance by royal messengers all throughout Onderon, the Queen planned her first appearance in public following the invasion meticulously: the vast expanse of the palace courtyard was cleared of remaining obstruction, the meager remnants of the royal guards merged with what remained of the armed forces to ensure the safety of the proceedings, and a polite request was sent out for the Alliance's peacekeepers of the Jedi Order to assist. The stage was set; all that remained now was for the Queen to face her subjects...
... and for Jenn to face the future she was creating for her Clan with her head held high.
She took some measure of comfort, of course, in the notion that she would not face it alone. In spite of her checkered past, the Alor was not without friends, nor allies - and she very much intended to see them by her side. The invitations were, in truth, as atypical as the Mandalorian herself: rather than merely sending a message through the holonet, the Alor put ink to parchment - and ensured that each and every single invitation invitation was to be delivered directly by hand, carried by the most reliable among her warriors. None other than the legendary Nite Owls, born anew under her rule, would do for such a task. Unnecessary pomp, as some may rightfully point out, especially from a woman so clearly and carefully divorced from the ways of nobility, but then again, she never had cause for such an occasion before.
None of this explained the shockingly elegant cursive writing, mind. Try as she mind to pretend otherwise, the good Siren was far more comfortable among the very nobility she looked upon with suspicion than she ever cared to admit! How else could one explain the fact that she counted a Princess, a King and a Queen among those who held her respect, in spite of her pointedly dismissive view of the very concept of hereditary rule?
That she even accepted to work so closely with the Queen of Onderon spoke of a degree of pragmatism some outsiders thought her people all but incapable of, and not a little humility as well. That, too, the aruetiise thought to be beyond the Mando'ade.
Not all of them.
The ceremony was yet to start, but the courtyard was already crowded by the Queen's subjects... and, to the surprise of some, a vast amount of Mandalorians, their armor still marked by battle. If the warriors of blue and white cared for the odd looks they received, none of them cared to show it, waiting patiently for the sovereign to make her appearance. Jenn, for her part, worked on her breathing as she waited to be given the go-ahead, looking down at herself with a faint smile. Forgemistress like herself could certainly have repaired the damage done to her armor before such a grand event, to be sure - but she held no shame for the marks left by war on beskar and flesh alike. No, they were reminders of her service to Onderon, and the fearlessness of her assault during the heavy fighting. Jumping out of a burning transport to engage the best the Empire had to throw at them would have left a lesser woman six feet under.
A blip on her helmet alerted her to the arrival of the transport before the roar of the engines or the rapidly-approaching shape could. Escorted by no less than four interceptors, the dropship quickly touched down onto a landing platform on the other side of the courtyard, out of sight, if not out of mind. As the ramp of the transport lowered, the Nite Owls stepped out, standing to the sides to let the honored guests through and onto the pad proper before linking up with the detachment of royal guards sent by the Queen to escort their charges to their destination. The honored guests were given a privileged position at the foot of the stairs leading towards the small plaza preceding the palace gates proper. A front-row seat if there ever was one - rubbing shoulders with Onderon's high society.
Soon, the sound of trumpets filled the air; a fanfare familiar to the people of Onderon, for it announced the imminent arrival of their monarch. First came the musicians, clad in colorful garbed; then, followed the royal guardsmen in their light, if no less elegant armor, bearing their signature laser lances high... and lastly, the Queen finally made her appearance, clad in the traditional attire befitting her status. Cheers erupted from the crowd at the sight of her, watching as she carried herself with all of the presence and dignity of a monarch, lips curling into a smile at the sight of her people welcoming her with clear enthusiasm. As the musicians finished their fanfare and stood at attention, the Royal Guard slammed the base of their lances against the ground, the sound heard even over the adulation of the people assembled in the outer courtyard - and claiming their deferent silence.
"Children of Onderon!" she called out, her voice carrying with surprising ease. "My heart soars at the sight of you all. Bloodied, yes, but unbroken, and proud. Even when faced with insurmountable odds, some among you chose the path of resistance! Your courage eclipses that of those who come before you, and shames those of us who chose submission over death." She marked a pause, then, taking in the guilt on the faces of some, the resentment on others... and, for a few, a grim determination.
"Now is not a time for recriminations. Do not cast your ire on your neighbors, but know this; we will repay the Dark Empire in blood for what they have done... in due time. The invaders have left us not merely massacred, but plundered as well. If not for the aid of outsiders, our situation would be most dire indeed; for this, I owe thanks to the brave intervention of our neighbors in the Galactic Alliance, as well as the New Jedi Order." Her gaze turned towards the Jedi in attendance at that, her gratitude practically etched over her features, if for but a moment.
"But the soldiers of the Alliance were not the only outsiders to assist us in our time of need. No, another group came to our aid, unbidden and expecting naught in recompense for their valor; even now, they remain among us, dedicated and true in their efforts to see us rebuild and recover from our losses. In recognition of such deeds, I believe the time has come to truly welcome the Mandalorians of Clan Kryze among us."
Jenn had never felt so many eyes on her before, but it was too late for her to go back - or to even think of slipping her helmet back on to grant herself some measure of separation. Stepping onto the plaza proper, the Mandalorian felt her heartbeat thumping in her ears with every step she took, stopping before the Queen as she drew her beskad... and knelt before her, offering the blade to the monarch. Slowly, purposefully, the ruler's fingers closed around the grip, lifting it up to hang above the kneeling Alor.
"Jenn Kryze, mindful of your prowess upon the field and the honor you carry with you, I am minded to admit you as a Knight of Onderon. Will you accept this honor?"
"I will."
"Do you swear that you will henceforth comport yourself as befit a peer of my realm, as you most surely have until now, and that you will attempt in all of your endeavors to be a noble example to the people of Onderon?"
"I do."
"Do you promise further to uphold the laws and tradition of the Kingdom of Onderon?
"I do."
"Do you swear fealty to me, my crown, and the throne and Kingdom of Onderon?"
There was the slightest pause, then, the flat side of the beskad resting on her shoulder still. Jenn had been given ample time to consider the proposition before the ceremony itself, and spent many nights pacing around her tent anxiously, her values warring with the needs of her people. Ever since she made the mantle of Alor her own, the Mandalorian reminded all who came before her that Clan Kryze knew no masters; they refused to bow before the so-called Mand'alor the Rekindler, just as they refused to submit themselves to the Galactic Alliance. To bend the knee would doubtlessly grant stability to her people... but no small amount of discomfort at the thought of their absolute freedom coming to a close.
"I do", she continued, her voice practically brimming with power.
"Then I name you henceforth Knight-Commander of the Onderonian Rangers, and grant you and your people the highlands to the east to call your own. Arise!"
Doubtful as some of them may be, the Mandalorians in attendance were truly thunderous in their cheers and applause, soon followed by the rest of the populace. And, for all of her misgivings, Jenn felt naught but pride as she rose to her feet, taking the beskad offered to her by the Queen with a bow, stepping off the plaza as she returned the blade to her belt, digesting the magnitude of the events that just unfolded- even as the crowd kept on celebrating, and the sovereign walked away from the courtyard and towards the city itself for a parade, royal guard in tow.
Hey everyone, and thank you for reading this far! This thread is meant to be a social thread about Jenn and her clan settling down on Onderon. Join on in to socialize and learn more!
Last edited:
