Faction A Curious Child [NEO]

[Ael'niir Illera]

Ael'niir Illera had been taken in by the Mandalorian clan but a couple years ago after the loss of her family and home, since being raised by a smaller portion of the sect on Dxun. Her life in that time had been considerable less peaceful than those prior to her pseudo-adoption by the clan, but during the days that seemed particularly harsh, she reminded herself in reserved quiet that it was better than what would have otherwise been.
Time had changed her considerably, the saccharine ignorance that had occupied her adolescent mind replaced by a stark awareness of how cruel the world could be. Those raising her had made it a key piece of knowledge engrained into her, alongside the other tenants of their religion, which they had taught her as the Resol'nare. The laws she now abided by, that had began to replace any beliefs she had previously upheld.

The crisp taste of morning hang in the air as Ael'niir emerged from her room, adorning a woolen under shirt and red-dyed trousers, casual wear by all means. The freshness helped alleviate the remaining tiredness she felt from the early rise. Today she had taken it upon herself to complete a task; Inquire undergoing proper training to join the Mandalorian's ranks. Which meant tracking down someone to ask such a question, which was how Ael found herself wandering concrete halls, curt nods given to those she passed by until finding an apt target of conversation.

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Zandra was always an early riser, though usually because she didn't sleep well. Today that was perhaps a good thing, as she was able to get her morning workout in with enough time to sharpen her beskad, something that was more a meditative practice than a necessity. As was expected, she was fully bedecked in her full suit of armor, dart launchers and all. It was important for her to always remain fully armored at all times, to adhere to the first of the Six Tenets.

Speaking of armor, there was a very young girl who was conspicuously without armor walking the halls. Zandra would idly spy her as sparks washed over the chest plate of her Beskar. She was sure the young Chiss girl was a foundling, Just as Zandra had been not too long ago, before her tutelage under Sig. Seeing her made Zandra smirk, she couldn't help but say something as the lost girl walked around.

"Hey pup, you look lost as can be. You need some help? Can't believe these karkin' tightasses are just letting a foundling just wander around," She joked, before walking over to the young girl, kneeling to be eye level with her. "You got a name kiddo?"

Ael'niir Illera

 

[Ael'niir Illera]

Zandra was always an early riser, though usually because she didn't sleep well. Today that was perhaps a good thing, as she was able to get her morning workout in with enough time to sharpen her beskad, something that was more a meditative practice than a necessity. As was expected, she was fully bedecked in her full suit of armor, dart launchers and all. It was important for her to always remain fully armored at all times, to adhere to the first of the Six Tenets.

Speaking of armor, there was a very young girl who was conspicuously without armor walking the halls. Zandra would idly spy her as sparks washed over the chest plate of her Beskar. She was sure the young Chiss girl was a foundling, Just as Zandra had been not too long ago, before her tutelage under Sig. Seeing her made Zandra smirk, she couldn't help but say something as the lost girl walked around.

"Hey pup, you look lost as can be. You need some help? Can't believe these karkin' tightasses are just letting a foundling just wander around," She joked, before walking over to the young girl, kneeling to be eye level with her. "You got a name kiddo?"

Ael'niir Illera

The young girl’s attention took to what was entirely obviously a Mandalorian, though if this particular one would be one of the objects of her inquiry was left hanging for the time being, the question being set aside in place of polite conversation.
“Ael’niir.” Came the short reply of the chiss hybrid, dandelion eyes meeting where she was sure the others were. It took some effort to bite back a retort about wandering, she knew better even if the temptation was all too present, and instead Ael replied in a polite (however curt) tone, “I’m looking for someone to talk to about… starting training.”

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Dxun. The moon of Onderon.

The Heart of the Mandalorian Wars. Stronghold. Communications Center. Now, at last, a training center.

Clan Akahl, the watchful stewards of Dxun, had finally claimed the holding for the glory of the Crusade after the Battle of Onderon. The Alliance Forces had been stretched too thin over the jungles, where they met their demise by predator, traps, and Mandalorian alike. The rest had been forced to retreat, no doubt biding their time for vengeance another day.

To the galaxy at large, the Crusade had been seemingly halted after Onderon, but those smart enough knew that its blood had not cooled. It was merely a period of rest and recuperation, so that they may return to the battle stronger than before. But that day was not today. Today was, instead, awash with a newly smuggled-in cadre of recruits. At last, the vision of Mandalore the Ultimate had been fulfilled once more - Dxun had been turned into one of the finest training centers the Neo-Crusaders had. Those maintaining the systems milled about the generators and newly emplaced defenses. Warriors sparred in the battle circles constantly. Scouts remained on the perimeter and in the jungles. Countless Mandalorians at last called this place ‘home’ once again. A dangerous home, but one nonetheless.

And Carduul Akahl, Rally Master and the de-facto Field Marshal present on the moon, had returned to the station of being the planet's caretaker once again with the lull in operations. He and his clan had always been the keepers of ancient lore, of tradition and knowledge thought lost to time. Of skill trained to a honed edge, but rarely bloodied in true tests of Glory. The Crusade had been the first time he had finally been able to look to the future. Today would at last be the beginning of cultivating it. His helmet upturned to an approaching ship touching down on the landing pad near the center of the makeshift fortress.

. . .

The hiss of hydraulics made itself audible as the doors to the ship opened to reveal those behind. “FRONT AND CENTER! Role call is in five!” Barked a silver-clad Mandalorian - one Garrus Bralor - from the landing pad’s control panel, as a cadre of new individuals streamed out. Liberated Slaves. Conscripts. Foundlings, all. The future of the Crusade, of their people. “If you don’t have your ‘gam yet, report to the armory after role call and we’ll have a new one fitted immediately!” Was the curt order thereafter, as the fresh blood had been urged formed a rough lineup.

With rhythmic taps of his ever-present poleaxe, Carduul had descended from the battlements from which he oversaw the encampment, and had made his way towards the landing pad. His gaze had levied upon each individual recruit - some had their armor and helmets on already, whilst others did not. Almost every being was unique, being a different species, holding different planetary background, colors and shapes. Some Gamorrean. Twi’leks. Human. Rodian. Bralor entered the ship as the crimson armored individual had halted in front of the lineup, a moment of silence lingering for some time as he finished his inspections. Then, he spoke;

“You all are here because you are believed to be able to withstand the harshest of our conditions. You are here because you believe in a galaxy that is led not by cowardly senators or force-wretched tyrants, but in the conviction of one’s own will, the force of their strength, the integrity of their honor. You are here because you may believe you have nowhere else to go. Regardless of your reasons, you stand today upon the moon of Dxun - the Mandalorians' ancestral fortress of War.”

His arms splayed wide,

“You are here to become Mando’ade, true. You shall be tested as one. You shall learn our tenets. You will serve your clan, and rally when called. You may break, but you will be reforged stronger than you thought possible.” His words rang with a firm confidence, asserted with a calm tone loud enough to be conveyed across the camp. Not a single doubt that those standing in front of him would do otherwise seemed to be there.

“The Battle Circles shall begin in thirty minutes. Become familiar with your vod - your siblings in arms. They will be your first and foremost line of defense against the enemy. I look forward to overseeing your renewals. You are to report to the forges if needed for your measurements. Your armor will be in blue. Look to the ones clad in red for direction and guidance.”

With that, he had stood aside, and would ready to wait down the time. Perhaps something new would occupy him in the meantime - perhaps one of the recruits themselves. “Dismissed.”

Ael'niir Illera | Zandra Ruus | Armel

 

[Armel]

Location: Dxun
Objective: Learn
Tags: Ael'niir Illera Carduul Akahl Zandra Ruus

Armel watched as the ship touched down at the centre of the camp and how it disgorged an army of prisoners, no, recruits. As they struggled to get into formation a small group of Neo-crusaders watched from the side. Armel and his squad mates and had already been on Dxun for some time and already had a taste of how hostile the jungles were. They had been the last batch to arrive before the assault on Onderan so a fair few of his cadre had yet to fully finish their training.

He still remembered vividly coming on that last ship, when he felt with his mind it was cold, he guessed many were afraid, nervous and longing for a life that was now behind them forever. Not Armel though, he was a slave before, no family, no friends. He saw in the Mandalorians a life he had been searching for for so long.

His musing was cut short by Bralor barking out orders. He always thought that one shouted too much. Like clockwork, Armel and a small squad of other recruits who had finished or were most of the way through their training formed up into three rows while the crowd of fresh foundlings struggled to remain a cohesive blob of mass. As he stood he caught sight of another Rallymaster approaching the landing pad.

"Is that him?" Armel's voice filled the helmet's of his squadmates over a private channel.

"Shut up." Elara, a Corellian who Armel knew as a teacher's pet, replied almost instantly.

"It is isn't it? The 'more than rallymaster' Rallymaster." he said, ignoring Elara.

"Shut up he's about to speak." Elara protested again.

Before he could reply he watched as each squad mate left the private channel.

They had all heard of Carduul Akahl as for all intents and purposes it was he who was king here on Dxun, not the monarchy in Iziz. Like many other instructors the Crusade had called him away so Armel had never met the man but he had certainly heard of him from the other Rallymasters. Armel listened intently as Carduul spoke, talk of becoming a true Mando'ade, the definition of which still escaped the Zeltron. He still struggled to understand what drove his newfound people to fight.

As the formation broke away and many of Armel's squadmates got to work directing the newer recruits Armel found himself still staring towards the Rallymaster.

"The kark are you standing around for?" Elara's voice filled his ears. That woman always seemed to have an idea of what Armel should be doing and he went to great lengths to always do the opposite. Armel ignored her and instead walked towards the Rallymaster. As he got near he stopped and offered a salute, a fist to his chest.

"Su cuy'gar Rallymaster." He spoke, his accent still needed much work. "You spoke of becoming Mando'ade before. Well I have been on Dxun for some time now and I have learnt the six actions yet..." his voice trailed off as he tried to find the words. "I still don't know what it means to be a true Mando'ade. Why we have embarked on such a crusade."

​

 

[Zandra Ruus]

“I’m looking for someone to talk to about… starting training.”

Zandra nodded her helmeted head at this, she placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. She could see reflections of her past self with the young Twi'lek, who seemed to be the same drifting streetrat the Mandalorian had been at that age. Carduul wasn't going to get this one, he had plenty to train. "Sounds like it's your lucky day Ael'niir, you've got one of the best brawlers in Clan Dryggo standin' right in front of you! I can teach you how to scrap like a real Mando."

Before she could try and gather the girl up, Carduul Akahl would begin his speech, and out of respect for the Rallymaster, she rose. Standing there she looked around to see all the young recruits standing around getting ready for training procedures, counting the horde of youngsters that would soon become Mandalorians. One of the recruits broke off to speak to Carduul, which Zandra took as a sign. Rather than bore the Rallymaster with asking permission, she'd just fly by wire.

Bearing that in mind, she looked down to the short blue Twi'lek, and gave a thumbs up. "First thing's first, we just gotta get you in some armor. Fitting shouldn't take to long if we get started soon. Though the armorers are probably pretty busy..."

There was a long line of younger foundlings and recruits all walked towards the forges, where the skilled armorers were shaping beskar into plates. With Zandra's help, the wait was shorter than it probably should have been. Some of the sergeants nodding as Zandra guided her new "friend" into the armory. She looked down again at the young alien, waving a hand over to forges.

"Here's where the magic happens, where we make our armors. If you're lucky, you'll find some beskar for a proper suit, farking hard to find though, damned Sith... Anyway, Resol'nare rule number one, Always wear your armor. I can get you some Duraplast or Durasteel for training armor, if you want to that is."

Armel

 

[Ael'niir Illera]

Zandra nodded her helmeted head at this, she placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. She could see reflections of her past self with the young Twi'lek, who seemed to be the same drifting streetrat the Mandalorian had been at that age. Carduul wasn't going to get this one, he had plenty to train. "Sounds like it's your lucky day Ael'niir, you've got one of the best brawlers in Clan Dryggo standin' right in front of you! I can teach you how to scrap like a real Mando."

Before she could try and gather the girl up, Carduul Akahl would begin his speech, and out of respect for the Rallymaster, she rose. Standing there she looked around to see all the young recruits standing around getting ready for training procedures, counting the horde of youngsters that would soon become Mandalorians. One of the recruits broke off to speak to Carduul, which Zandra took as a sign. Rather than bore the Rallymaster with asking permission, she'd just fly by wire.

Bearing that in mind, she looked down to the short blue Twi'lek, and gave a thumbs up. "First thing's first, we just gotta get you in some armor. Fitting shouldn't take to long if we get started soon. Though the armorers are probably pretty busy..."

There was a long line of younger foundlings and recruits all walked towards the forges, where the skilled armorers were shaping beskar into plates. With Zandra's help, the wait was shorter than it probably should have been. Some of the sergeants nodding as Zandra guided her new "friend" into the armory. She looked down again at the young alien, waving a hand over to forges.

"Here's where the magic happens, where we make our armors. If you're lucky, you'll find some beskar for a proper suit, farking hard to find though, damned Sith... Anyway, Resol'nare rule number one, Always wear your armor. I can get you some Duraplast or Durasteel for training armor, if you want to that is."

Armel

The oppressive smell of metal and flame filled the air as she followed the woman clad in beskar, dandelion eyes scanning over each embered forge. Each step felt heavy for Ael'niir, each inch closer to getting her very own armour weighed down on her. The last few years had been spent surrounded by the great Mandolorians, adorned permanently in armour similar to that she'd be getting.

Ael did find this particular Mando to be a bit of a comforting presence, perhaps it was her more relaxed demeanour or maybe the way she easily glided passed the lines as though they held no meaning. Though, the stares from other Foundlings returned a small bout of disquiet to the young girl, which she decidedly attempted to press back down and focus on approaching one of the several forges.

Hesitantly, the adolescent hybrid would tap her finger against Zandra's plated leg, in an attempt to garner attention from the woman before they got too close. An answer had to be given before she would continue further, a blend of curiosity and nervousness in her chest. Maybe this was just stalling. The official beginning of her new life was an armour set away, and although she was asking for it, Ael'niir would be a liar if she were to have said she wasn't at all apprehensive.
"Why did you become a Mandolorian?" The girl would ask, her soft voice something akin to a breeze through a forested planet. She felt knowing why another chose this path might aid in ensuring she felt confident in the decision. She was the oldest she had ever been and yet Ael'niir had never felt so small, the crowd of others just like her easily enough to subdue any pride or ego that may have been created the last few years. Bright eyes would stare upwards with an expression of what could only appear to be concern, dark blue markings that resembled eyebrows pressing together into a line.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

His attention had shifted to the approaching individual, splitting off from their squadron. His off-hand pounded against his chestplate in a return of the salute. A small smile, however brief, had flickered beneath the helm at the greeting from the newcomer - clad in blue armor with white stripes. It was ever a reminder of what he deigned to build here. “Su cuy’gar, vod at cuyir.”

The helm tilted slightly, keen eyes behind a cold visor regarding Armel with an unknowable expression. That was a loaded question, and it genuinely took him time to ponder a proper response. “What is your name, warrior?”

There were a few more moments of silence after the reply that may have given rise to an underlying tension, before finally he spoke once again. “...That is a question I can only answer from one perspective - ours.”

Elsewhere, the typical procedure for something like this warranted that which bordered upon propaganda. Honeyed promises and sweet nothings. A firm statement with a simple answer. Carduul would deliver none. His finger then jabbed towards the other in a pointed statement; “Know this; to be Mando’ade is to live for the here and now. Every Mandalorian is different. The six tenets are all that binds one to our way. It is their word and honor that binds them to their own. It is up to them whether they decide to become a Mandalorian worth respecting, or a bottom-feeder whom serves hutts and gangsters like a dog. What defines as a ‘true’ Mandalorian, is a definition you will shape for yourself. But for us?”

His steps had motioned from his standstill, beckoning the other to follow as his gaze moved off. The sounds of weapons and fists clashing against each other echoed in the background, passing by the forges and nearing the aforementioned battle circles.

“A true Mandalorian, the ones which we intend to force the galaxy to remember once again, is a being of strong body, mind, and soul. An honorable warrior who seeks to safeguard the being of themselves and their family without hesitation. One who seeks conflict to not only uplift themselves to gain honor and glory, but their siblings, and even those he conquers - if that uproots the cowardly and slothful in doing so, then all the better for it. That is the true Mandalorian spirit with which we seek to revive.” His hand gestured in a broad stroke to their surroundings. Just in that moment, a distant recruit had just knocked down their sparring partner with a harsh clatter of metal against ground. “And we have already seen much success.”

Carduul’s hand settled upon his belt, as the visor tilted towards Armel once again - pausing in his step and turning to face him fully.

“As for our reasons…that is, equally a complicated explanation. Are you familiar with Mandalore the Ultimate, the Wrathful? I would regale you with such tales - if thou'rt willing to listen.”

Ael'niir Illera | Zandra Ruus | Armel

 

[Armel]

Location: Dxun
Objective: Learn
Tags: Ael'niir Illera Carduul Akahl Zandra Ruus

"I am of Armel..." he said before pausing. "Of Er'kit." The Zeltron had no last name, at least none he could remember. He had been very young when he had been taken by slavers.

He listened intently as the Rallymaster spoke first of how other Mandalorians perceived being a true Mandalorian, of it being up to oneself to define it. His brow furrowed under his helmet. It was not an answer he had heard before but seen in his newfound comrades. Each had their own reasons for donning the armour and to match with that their own definition of what it meant to be Mandalorian. Those like Elara spoke of becoming the best warriors, training their bodies to be like weapons, others talked about legacy and fewer yet spoke of finding belonging. He still felt no closer to finding his answer.

Then the Rallymaster motioned for him to follow and Armel trailed behind him. He listened further as Carduul spoke, trying to squeeze meaning out of every word. As Carduul continued Armel hung on to the idea of honouring friend and enemy alike. A necessary evil, no, I don't think we're evil. He thought to himself. The idea of improving the galaxy through conflict was a powerful one.

As Armel looked around the camp his attention turned back as the Rallymaster spoke of the two Mandalore's. He looked to the ground momentarily as he dug into his mind to remember the names.

"I recognize the title but not the names. With so many Rallymasters having been gone we uh, haven't had much chance to really learn the history." he replied, almost as if making an excuse for himself, even though it was the truth. Force of habit if he could guess.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

“Armel.” A few small nods in return. “I am Carduul Akahl, of Clan Akahl.” Was a brief introduction thereafter. There was little need to reiterate upon rank, or what he commanded - he was sure the recruit was plenty familiar already. Mandalorians typically were not one to lord such things over others, regardless, even if they were to be organizing a ranking structure.

In reply to the attempt at an excuse, there was a quiet laugh. “Even if the rest of the Rally Masters were present then, not all have the full picture. Much has been muddled, or lost to time and conflict.” His free gauntleted hand pressed against his chest. “Fret not. ‘Tis mine duty to preserve its memory, and impart it unto the next generation.”

There was another short pause, briefly mulling over where to start. There were so many pieces of Mandalorian history, so many facets of their culture, it was the prime dividing factor between their kind.

“Religion. Ancestral Right. Glory. Vengeance. Survival.” His head dipped slightly, upon the thought. “Long ago, Mandalore the Ultimate spawned our methods - one of the last of the original Mandalorians, the Taung. He was nearly successful in achieving total dominance of the galaxy - the Republic at the time had spread too far, too thin, reigning dominance over worlds it had grown too sebaceous to properly care for. Until the Jedi came to their aid, and eventually began using tactics similar to how a Mandalorian would in order to contend. And thus, the Ultimate was felled, but his goal was still achieved. It is because his goal was not total dominance, not in pitying nor trampling upon the weak and honorless. Nay - his goal was to uplift the galaxy, and its inhabitants. To ensure our culture survives to this day. The Alliance survives to this day, because adversity from the likes of the Ultimate pulled it from its rot, burned it at the roots, and forced it to adapt to us or die. We survive to this day, because his methods saw the spread of our culture to all.”

His words were introspective, reverent. It was clear how much he valued such retellings and history - to the point it may as well be considered a part of their training. It would explain why the Rally Master would be so content with expounding upon the topic with such zeal, despite the circumstance.

“Since then, there has been nothing like the original Neo-Crusades. Mandalorian spirit has dulled - privy not only to the wiles of the Jedi and their rotted Republic, but the Sith as well, who have since returned from the shadows and committed countless atrocities against us. Once again, the Mandalorians were the first upon the lines of battle, whilst the Republic sat aside content to wait. Mandalore the Wrathful, a more recent entry, was one of the core proponents to reignite our movement. He advocated for a return to the worship of Kad Ha’rangir - the traditional Mandalorian God of Change - and led the Mandalorians to battle against all who had wronged us. The Sith, for their attempts at enslaving and erasing our people, and the Republic, for their attempts to neutering us in mind and soul under the guise of ‘peace.’ The renewed Crusades seek to continue that work.”

His fingers rapped against the polearm’s shaft, metallic ‘taps’ ringing out as he finished the summary of the more notable history for their movement’s purposes. “Tell me, Armel - what do such stories tell you of our reasons?” Came a sudden inquiry, helmet tilting as it was posed. All this information may have been overwhelming; thus, he was curious as to the reaction and thoughts it may garner from a recruit the likes of which stood before him.

Ael'niir Illera | Zandra Ruus | Armel

 

[Zandra Ruus]

"Why did you become a Mandolorian?"

"If you ever want to know about a Mando, look at the armor first. Our armors are a second skin that tells our story," Zandra wanted to answer this difficult question with more than just her perosnal story, but a lesson to the young Chiss-hybrid. "This black color tells about me. In the culture, colors are a symbol. For black, the meaning is simple. Justice."

This only lead into more question, obviously. So Zandra would continue by explaining just why she would choose such a distinct symbol to represent her in the culture. The metallic tapestry that was her armor was something she put a great deal of thought and passion into, and now she would impart that onto Ael'niir.

"I became a Mandalorian because my home on Coruscant was destroyed. I had nowhere to go, no one to help me. And so I joined up, and I wanted justice for all those that lost their lives in the slums. But, as I learned more and more, it shifted. I wanted justice for more than just myself, I wanted it for all the poor and beaten down that have been taken advantage of by the Alliance."

Now the Mandalorian was speaking with fire, even anger behind her unflinching T-Visor. Not anger at the young girl, but anger towards the Alliance, and maybe even herself. She hated that she ever thought those stuffed shirts would come to her rescue. Never again, she would stand on her own two feet, and teach the young Mandalorians to do the same.

"So what about you little cub? What is your reason to join the Creed?"

Her question extinguished some of the flame in her voice. Now speaking more like an older sibling to the young Mando. She wanted to guide this young cub into being a Hellcat, just like her!

 

[Ael'niir Illera]

"If you ever want to know about a Mando, look at the armor first. Our armors are a second skin that tells our story," Zandra wanted to answer this difficult question with more than just her perosnal story, but a lesson to the young Chiss-hybrid. "This black color tells about me. In the culture, colors are a symbol. For black, the meaning is simple. Justice."

This only lead into more question, obviously. So Zandra would continue by explaining just why she would choose such a distinct symbol to represent her in the culture. The metallic tapestry that was her armor was something she put a great deal of thought and passion into, and now she would impart that onto Ael'niir.

"I became a Mandalorian because my home on Coruscant was destroyed. I had nowhere to go, no one to help me. And so I joined up, and I wanted justice for all those that lost their lives in the slums. But, as I learned more and more, it shifted. I wanted justice for more than just myself, I wanted it for all the poor and beaten down that have been taken advantage of by the Alliance."

Now the Mandalorian was speaking with fire, even anger behind her unflinching T-Visor. Not anger at the young girl, but anger towards the Alliance, and maybe even herself. She hated that she ever thought those stuffed shirts would come to her rescue. Never again, she would stand on her own two feet, and teach the young Mandalorians to do the same.

"So what about you little cub? What is your reason to join the Creed?"

Her question extinguished some of the flame in her voice. Now speaking more like an older sibling to the young Mando. She wanted to guide this young cub into being a Hellcat, just like her!

Ael’niir didn’t need to see the face behind that ever worn helm, nor the eyes of this particular Mando, to feel the intense blaze of passion she emanated. A head that felt all too familiar to herself, a story to mirror her own… That was all it took, truly. To know this Mandolorian up took her path for the same reasons- albeit slightly different- as herself allowed all those feelings of hesitation to wash away.

The girls eyes drop slightly, a hand habitually running her fingers along one of her lekku. Her voice became small, just loud enough to hear over the chatter of Foundlings and metalwork. “My home was destroyed… They came and they burned everything and everyone and.” with every word, Ael’s voice became weaker, “and they took us little kids. To sell, like animals. One of you bought me to bring back here.”

It was as though telling such a tale was as exhausting as the training she’d soon undergo, the hybrid exhaling a shaken breath when she finished.

“I want to stop other kids from losing everything too.”


Zandra Ruus

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Zandra was speechless at the story she was hearing unfold. Ael'niir had been through such trauma, seen things no child should have to see. It was positively horrifying to think about, to have one's whole life burned to ash right in front of them. Zandra was fully grown when her home was taken from her, she could scarcely imagine that happening when she was younger.

The sounds of the forged masked the creaking of the Mandalorian's gloves as she clenched her small fists. Zandra wanted to promise the young girl that she would personally hunt down the fiends that enslaved her, but she knew it wasn't practical. Revenge wasn't here to take, it would have to be Ael'niir who cut the head from that snake...

In lieu of this, she sat on her knees, taking off her helmet. This one deserves to see Zandra as she was, barely 19 and not a big woman by any stretch, and yet she didn't lack for passion or dedication. She seemed to stare through people, a result of the hardships she'd faced, with the exception of the little hybrid. The moment Ael finished her sentence, Zandra's gaze softened. Allowing her to place a hand on the Chiss-Twi'lek's head.

"I'll make you a deal cub. You and me, we'll fight together. For all the little kids like us out there... So that no child has to be alone in the Galaxy... We'll hunt slavers and kill the corruption at its heart. Together we can make sure the kids of the galaxy have a brighter future! So none of them have to worry about a safe place to live or food to eat. Whaddya say?"

Ael'niir Illera

 

[Ael'niir Illera]

Seeing a Mandalorian, who Ael'niir knew only as a helmed people, remove her helmet was something that by all means left the child stunned. Before she could process the words that nearly fell on deaf ears, she had to process the fact she was seeing this woman's face- Woman was not the correct word, she thought to herself. This was a girl, beyond that battle-worn look this was surely a girl hardly older than some of the farm hands Ael had seen helping around her home. Something about that brought to her a deep sadness, despite the countless other children around them. Despite her own story, the details she had opted to leave out so she could avoid reliving it all...

The fires of the forges were rivaled by the blaze between the two who stood adjacent to the lines of Foundlings. Ael'niir raised her eyes to meet those of Zandra properly, the look in her own shifting between a soft sorrow and distinct determination. "I want that. I... I know I can't go and save everyone who was taken that day too, but... I need to save others from ending up like me, like-" Ael looks towards the rows of others slowly ushering forwards to get their own armour. "Like all of them."

Slowly the hybrid child looks back towards the de-helmed Mando, still a tad bewildered by such, and exhales a shakey sigh. "I know I wanna be a Mandalorian now."

Zandra Ruus

 

[Armel]

Location: Dxun
Objective: Learn
Tags: Ael'niir Illera Carduul Akahl Zandra Ruus

As Carduul spoke Armel felt his gaze turn to the new arrivals, dozens lined up at the forges. In went a banker, shopkeeper or former slave and on the other side the came out Mandalorians, vode an. Or at least shells of Mandalorians, he doubted if those in his own cohort had fully grasped what it meant to be Mandalorians. It is what led him to speak to the Rallymaster of Dxun.

As Armel sat and listened he absorbed as much as he could, so far he had turned to those in the present for what it meant to be a True Mandalorian, never the past. As Carduul spoke Armel clung on to the name Kad Ha'ranggir. Armel had never been religious, he had seen religion itself as a tool of the masters, used to keep the slaves and serfs in check. The priests they sent preached of obedience and gratitude in service. The message never resonated with the Zeltron, it didn't make sense to add a new master to serve. On top of that obedience sounded quite boring. But as he listened the Mandalorian god seemed different to what he had been fed on Er'kit, it didn't sound like a god, more like a fundamental truth.

After Carduul asked again for Armel's opinion he took a second to think before turning back to the Rallymaster. "Kad Ha'ranggir, it is like the fundamental law of the galaxy..." He said at first, unsure of how he truly wanted to word his thoughts. "The law of constant entropy."

His head dipped as he mulled over the stories yet more. "Mandalore the Ultimate improved the galaxy through the crusade. Mandalore the Wrathful, lit the sparks to return to such a state." He said softly under his breath.

As he thought over the words of the Rallymaster he couldn't help but be curious about his words of improving the Galaxy, what had the Galaxy ever done for him. "But how can we truly fight to our fullest if our ultimate goal is to better the enemy? When I was on Er'kit the masters became my enemy, there was nothing more in the world that I wanted than to never be part of that system again. Not improve it through combat, why would I do such a thing?" he continued, his words were singed with anger. He stopped himself before h could rant any further, he wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him.

​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

The helm tilted at the conscript’s own words regarding the mythical figure of Mandalorian culture, then the individuals who had purported it in history. It was difficult to tell if it was curiosity, surprise, approval, or some mixture of all of such. “You understand. Good. Whether a Mandalorian reveres our way as nature, as religious tribute, as necessity - it matters not. It all serves the same purpose. It binds those who understand that concept together.”

He was never too religious. Spiritual, yes - it was good to be in touch with ancestry, with their roots. But too much turned to reckless zeal, addled the mind, clouded judgement. Carduul knew those such as Hakon Fett likely cared little for the religious side of their culture. Many more shared the same prospect.

Following afterwards, there was a moment of silence at the rise of anger from Armel. The visor lingered contemplatively upon the other’s hidden visage. Watching as they calmed and quieted their emotions - a rare trait from one of their background. Suddenly, a soft chuckle elicited not long thereafter. “You focus only upon part of the result. The inevitable outcome of our conflict, win or lose.” His body turned from the forges and battle circles to fully face Armel.

“We do not fight with only the intent to make our enemies stronger. That is merely a by-product.” His hand raised, curling into a fist with the next declaration, “Nay, the Ultimate’s goal was for our people to conquer all. To ensure our survival, even in death. We are strengthened just as much from this interaction as our foes, and our Way would spread even as mere legend - and we live to survive to this day through such efforts. We have been butchered. Betrayed. Sabotaged. Yet still, we stand proudly. In spite of the efforts of the Sith, of the Jedi, and every other destitute nation out for their own.”

His polearm then waved across to the scene once again, the ribbon bearing the Neo-Crusader iconography rippling with the motion. “Strength is what we are. What we seek and give. Our ultimate goal is not to better our enemies for the sake of that alone - it is to better our enemies so that they will be worthy when we conquer them, and spread our culture to theirs. To defy and take vengeance against those who have wronged us, so that all may one day be Mando’ade. All may one day be our home. Everyone would share in our culture, and prosper. Molded to be resilient, honorable, self-reliant, and given a sense of belonging to something, should they join us.”

The poleaxe was then set down with a loud thump against the ground. “And that is why you are here. Why we, as Neo-Crusaders, believe in continuing Mandalore the Ultimate’s mission. It is why we, as Mandalorians, believe in our right to vengeance. We will not become a part of their systems, apart of their endless wars they constantly seek to subjugate us into. They will join us, and either live as a coward, or die honorably for their beliefs. And we will seek to teach the rest of the galaxy to survive without their bloodied, force-wretched fists, or their stifling bondages to rotted schemers bandying words from behind those they send to die.”

Gaze tilts upwards, briefly looking upwards. Towards the sky, where the planet Onderon was in full view. “Those of our kin who attempted a facsimile of this victory; those who desired ‘peace’ without earning it, only served to raise our kin’s ire through enslavement. They still do it to this day. That is why we fight.”

His words ended with a punctuality, though lingered on. Waiting to see what insights and introspection may have been gleaned from the prospective new recruit.

Ael'niir Illera | Zandra Ruus | Armel