A Little Walk Home... (Mandos, anyone else PM for invite.)

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Mandalore
Keldabe Space Station



Home. It was a strange concept for Kix. He had always considered himself one of the Mandalorian people, the whole of the Old Dreadguard did. It was drilled into their very souls by the Verds, by Calico, by Galaar. Yet. He had never once called any place home, he had never graced the ancestral world of what he deemed as his people.

The Tal'Verdas were now seemingly spread across the stars... After the death of Galaar some had followed Calico, some stayed with the Protectorate, whereas some had went on their own paths. Kix's path lay on Mandalore.

In his gloved and armored hand he held a small trinket. It had been removed from the armor he now donned, it was about the size of a human's index finger: a small, unassuming piece of plastoid. In all fairness it held near spiritual value at the same time, it was a Clone's Armor tally. The tally read RC-252, it was Galaar's marking throughout the Clone Wars and even through his tenure in the Neo-Confederacy. Kix was taking it to the memorial built by Kal Skirata if it still existed. To this end he had left the Protectorate and gathered Galaar's gear and clad himself within it and set out amongst the stars. He had jumped from freighter to freighter and shuttle to shuttle to arrive here in the timeless port of Keldabe.

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Kix strode down the shuttle's ramp into the hanger. He was clad head-to-toe in his new, retrofitted Katarn-Class Commando armor, it bore a collective of symbols most were Mandalorian such as the Mythosaur skull that adorned the chest plate and the writing underneath the Fox on the right cauldron. It clanked and clattered softly as he moved as the plates themselves whispered of their experiences. It was battle-scarred, battered, yet the armor was still strong and in its own right a testament to his Clan and even his people.

He moved with purpose out of the hanger and unto the small streets of Keldabe. He needed to find his destination and where was a better place to look for information than the old Oyu'baat.

 

[Muad Dib]

Keldabe. The name was laser burned in my mind. Years had passed since I last walked the dusty streets and alleys. Things change and yet, some things don't.

Mere minutes before he had roused and recited the words, "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Ruusan Kandossii. Kot Kandossii," The meaning echoed in his soul, " I' still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." He had slid on his buy'ce and secured it before leaving the small room of the quiet in. Having prepaid for the room he walked silently past the counter where an ancient woman sat with shrewd, lively eyes that belied the infirmities of her flesh.

Walking down the street he ducked into the ole tavern. Glancing at the sign over the door a snort of wry amusement escaped into the confines of his helmet.

Universe indeed. Time for a drink or two before I pay my respects then set out on my own little adventure perhaps. Oya.

Relunctantly removing his helmet and the comfort of his HUD he sat at a rough table with six chairs around it's circular frame. A waitress wandered over and Atin spoke before she did. "Elek. Solus." A single armored talon enunciated his word for a single drink. Leaning against the back of the chair jade eyes nearly hidden by tossed, unkempt dirty blonde hair scoured the tavern. Never one to let down his guard in public the slight downward curve of his lips amid several days worth of beard showed his discontent. Memories, ghosts of former friends and loved ones danced before his mind's eye as he waited for his drink.

@ Kix Tal'Verda