Art of the Sword [ Part I ]

[Darth Metus]

E C H O Y ' L A​

In the beginning, gazing into the heavens meant a hellish reality.

From here, upon the surface of the gas giant's seventeenth moon, the view was rather spectacular. Echoy'la herself was seemingly within arm's reach and dominated the skies above. However, the moon's terrain was a drastic contrast to the gaseous titan around which it moved. Summed up in a single word: Desolate was the only apt description. At face value, Echoy'la-17 varied little from any "standard" celestial body that lacked a natural atmosphere. It was rocky, with a plethora of craters complements of impacts over the years. However, grievous wounds had been dealt to the moon's surface: man made wounds.

For you see, while only one moon contained the fabled Mandalorian Iron, all were subjected to avaricious searches. All were viciously carved with mining attempts over the course of Sith and Primeval occupation. For Echoy'la-17, that resulted in the desolate landscape of the present. However. Since the rise of the Mandalorian Empire, some efforts had been made to repair the damage wrought by these hungry searches. An artificial atmosphere had been put into place. Basic, prefabricated structures mingled amongst abandoned facilities. By decree of the Mand'alor himself, Echoy'la-17 was to be rebuilt and re-purposed as a place of growth:

A training ground for the Mandalorian Knights.

* * *​

This day, a challenge had been posed to those bold enough to don the mantle Knight. A literal Melee. The aspiring and the veteran had been assembled; with each having been provided two things. The first: a single, Aurodium coin. The second: instruction. The principle mining facility would be their place of battle this day, and the following restrictions applied: Only weapons melee in nature could be utilized. No technology. No Force. No firearms. The reason? To instill in the Knighthood valuable experience in "non-laser stick" combat. In order to triumph in this challenge, a Knight would have to best their comrades and obtain their Aurodium Coin. At the conclusion of the melee, whomever carried the most Coins would be declared victor...and duly rewarded.

Of course, Mand'alor the Reclaimer was not a man ignorant of incentives. And as such, trinkets and treasures had been scattered about the intended place of battle. For example, relics of the Sith Empire's armory had been conviniently stashed in the QUARRY. The abandoned MINESHAFT, supposedly, had been adorned with a mount of Mandalorian origin. And lastly, items from the Mand'alor's own collection had been left in the control room of the MINING FACILITY. These were free to claim...and free to contest.

Who would emerge victorious this day? Let Battle Commence!

Spoiler

[member="Zephyr Carrick"], @Freiya Whitelight Carrick, [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Dralos"], [member="Iegoris Verd"], [member="Deneve Verd"], [member="Runi Verin"], [member="Triss"], [member="Kadala Skirata"], [member="Daeron Kryze"], [member="Alicia Drey"], [member="Saverok the Unleashed"], [member="Oron Verd"], [member="Gheleon"], [member="Cennika Hawk"], [member="Jevar Xolius"], [member="Særa Ayña Savan"]

 

[Jevar Xolius]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEtkIRlz7Vw​

Today was the day that would make or break Jevar. His skill set and fortitude was all he had here on this day, and his mindset was only victory. Beskad gripped firmly in his right hand, he looked down at the elongated edge of metals made for war. It spoke to his heart in a way that sent chills up his spine, the rush of adrenaline was freely moving through his veins. He was ready for battle.

To be dubbed a Knight was a respect Jevar wanted to chase for the sole reason of adaptability. A tool to be added among the rest of what he already understood and his experiences among the brash and bold. Awaiting the other initiates, Jevar already made up his mind that he'd do anything to win. There was no reason to make friends, only a respect to be shared among soldiers. That is all he saw himself as in the most essential way possible. Efficiency was key, being fair was not a concern to be pondered.

...Oya... ​

The warcry shouted numerous times in battle to uphold the banner of honor and what it meant to fight for the Mandalorian belief, a reminder that being weak was not in Jevar's nature, or else he wouldn't have made it this far. He had nothing to lose, nothing to give.

This day was his proof of self-worth.

The strength of passion would see him through, his anger would allow him clarity in battle.

The Dark Side was a piper, and the enchantment of its song lured the young man in closer each day.


[member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Dralos"] | [member="Iegoris Verd"] | [member="Deneve Verd"] | [member="Runi Verin"] | [member="Triss"] | [member="Kadala Skirata"] | [member="Daeron Kryze"] | [member="Alicia Drey"] |

 

[Vora Kaar]

This was different. All of the weapons here would be either beskads, or some variation of a sword. For the purpose of the tests today, I had received a beskad. It was about the same length of my normal sword, however, it had a spine, rather than double edges. A little different than what I was used to, however, I am sure I could manage. As such, I was creating myself a challenge as well. Learning how to use the coveted melee weapon of the Mandalorians and their culture. I wanted to be like one of them, so I was going to fight like one of them.

About the closest thing I had of armor was just a leather jacket and jeans with a t-shirt. Sure my boots were nice too, but I could hardly care for those. I was here to potentially train, and maybe get something useful out of this. A rumor was going around that there would be little trinkets and items that are easily able to be picked up. Maybe I could get a few of these items. Even one thing would have been nice.

Still, I made my way from the starting point, and headed towards the Mining Facility. Knowing the challenge that I could not use force powers, made me feel almost sad. I liked using my abilities. They were who I was, and to take that away? well thats not good. As such, I decided to make my way towards probably the best place to go. The mining facility.

 

[Alicia Drey]

| [member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Dralos"] | [member="Iegoris Verd"] | [member="Deneve Verd"] | [member="Runi Verin"] | [member="Triss"] | [member="Kadala Skirata"] | [member="Daeron Kryze"] | [member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Jevar Xolius"] |

Echo'lya was bright that night. Beneath the star ways of the Manda'yaim, a woman yet to grasp the understanding and wisdom of the Resol'nare walked across the barren moon set to become her latest test, silently unaware of the future that was laid ahead. Of course, she had planned this. She had reached out to Mand'alor himself to become one of his kin, so that one day she could call upon the people that she was now contesting with ner'vod, and with this in mind, Alicia had a fair idea of what to expect. But her destiny was no longer in her hands and only acceptance of the Mandalorians could give her glimpse of what she was to become.

She had been brought to her landing zone unarmed, but only to those who did not possess the right eyes. The training that she had received, that had consequentially molded her into the woman of today, gave her some readied preparation for the trials and tribulations that Mand'alor had prepared for those that would call themselves his Knights. However, the Mandalorians were a people born, bred and readied for war. She had even heard of Mandalorians boasting that they had been bred a warrior for the moment he had been borne out of the womb of his then pregnant Mother, but Alicia was well versed in the osik that came with all cultures and so she had chosen to not pay it much attention.

Subtle, the Mandalorian in training moved quietly towards the Mineshaft, the nearest location to which her landing zone was.

 

[Freyia Whitelight-Carrick]

If the wind could whisper it would be telling her how she was way out of her comfert zone here. As such what took place upon Mygeeto those scares upon her was still fresh on her mind so was the battle. Even know she pushed on why would someone as soft as she would push on to want to learn such an art form. Even know on her hip was a sword of medium length it was what was in her hand that she held close to her. That was a staff of about her height. Made out of Besker both of her weapon she would need for this training today.

Now the trick was to use no force, even those she just started to really tap into the force to train more in to became like her mother. It wasn't because of her mother she was here it was of her father, she wanted so much to impress him, to show that she could be apart of his culture his people. To toughen this little bookworm up.

Now her thought is upon Roinin knowing that they had there first disagreement on this matter but at the same time it was just concern for her being freshly recover. This was her own pushing that what these people her people her vod did was push themselves. Did she want to impress some of her own vod.

| Isley Verd | Joza Perl | Dralos | Iegoris Verd | Deneve Verd | Runi Verin | Triss | Kadala Skirata | Daeron Kryze | Zephyr Carrick | Jevar Xolius |

 

[Arage Bao]

A lone figure sat patiently on one of the lunar rocks sparingly decorating the surroundings of the training field. This figure wore a simple, but scratchy poncho that obfuscated most of his features and upper body. The scratchy nature of it didn’t make it comfortable, but it served as a reminder to Ronan. This reminder being that civilization and comfort only dulled your edge.

It was one thing to cloak yourself in warmth when enveloped by the cold.

Common sense, really.

But it was a thin line to walk between the savagery of men and decadence of the complacent herd.

Ronan hummed a cheery tone as he waited.

He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for yet, but he knew that once he saw it, he would know it immediately. The beskad resting lazily on his knees made him slightly more comfortable, cold steel, heavy in the hand and sharp at the edge was all a warrior needed. There was nothing that truly compared to the feeling of cutting down your enemy with less than half a meter standing between the two of you.

The geyser of blood, that sense of life leaving their eyes.

A sacred moment few people truly experienced these days. Vizsla blamed the advent of projectile weapons, lightsabers and that mystical web of energy penetrating all of them at the same time.

All of it took the personal out of the battle.

It seemed that [member="Isley Verd"] was aware of some of this.

Ronan didn’t really consider him his Mand’alor, of course, it takes more than gathering up a horde of warriors, plant your flag on a few worlds and proclaim yourself the Rebuilder, to be hailed as the true Mand’alor. But he would follow his flag regardless of his personal feelings.

As long as Verd kept winning Vizsla would keep supporting him.

A natural contract between a Warlord and his men, really.

"It’s time." A wisp of emerald and silver resurfaced from the ground. It had only one eye, half a grinning mouth and it whispered to him. These apparitions had started to appear months ago, Ronan wasn’t sure what they meant, but they hadn’t steered him wrong yet.

"Then time it is." Ronan stood up from his seat and started to walk, nay swagger towards the facility.

[member="Freyia Whitelight-Carrick"] | [member="Alicia Drey"] | [member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Jevar Xolius"] | [member="Isley Verd"]​

 

[Saera Willamina Savan]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBltiYFO42c​

​

Not long into E-17's day, a dark spot seemingly devoured the sun out of the sky as it passed, casting a wide, muted shadow over the moon. When it stopped on the end of the horizon, it could be seen glistening brilliantly against the sun's light. This foreshadowing beast was none other than a starship, classic in its Old Imperial design influences, marking the arrival of its one owner.

A single small object slowly descended onto the rocky surface, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it impacted the ground. It appeared to be a figure, a somewhat short individual clad in light combat armor over a mostly-clear bodysuit. The pieces had been acquired from an old Dominion TJR-01R armor suit plated in electrum, with the interior lining being an experimental prototype for a risque bodysuit of Saera's own design. Instead of the boots that typically accompanied the near-human model of the armor, she wore simple leather-based high-heel shoes that didn't actually have heels, most of the weight bearing down on the frontal wedge, plated in places with beskar'gam almost like a sabaton with a small spike protruding away from each heel. At her back was an emptied Moonlight Blade and a Blacksmith's hammer.

Piece by piece, the Vinferalathi stripped off all but her most core pieces of armor. Her helmet unsealed with a short hiss, revealing to her an an unsurprisingly artificial, stale atmosphere. The only piece of functioning modern technology left on her were her arms, but there wasn't much she could do about that; she lacked her Vinithi mother's inherent ability to regenerate and cloning tanks had immense difficulty sorting out her genetic structure properly. Besides, no good Sith was complete without something lost or given of themselves as history seemed to prove. With everything in an organized pile by her feet, Saera pulled out some duracord and knot-worked it around the single coin she was given, wearing it around her neck as an amulet that rested comfortably between the two round masses of plant-like matter on her chest.

Brandishing hammer and blade in hand, she set forth for the nearby Mining Facility.

-----​

​

[member="Isley Verd"], [member="Jevar Xolius"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Alicia Drey"], [member="Freyia Whitelight-Carrick"], [member="Vassik Kilvaari"]​

 

[Ignatius]

I felt naked.

Not being able to use my dueling shield, nor my armor, I opted to wear a general uniform that I had once worn when I was with the Moross Crusade. Now, as I was with the Mandalorian Empire, I followed the Manda'lor. Not because I needed something to follow, but because I could see how the man's leadership was necessary. I had fallen out with the Mandalorian Clans due to their lack of leadership. Mandalorians were all meant to be leaders of men. They were built for war. And currently, they lacked in that department.

This new empire should bring about new warriors into the galaxy. However, First there were some of us that had to train. Myself included. I had been sitting on Manpha dealing with day to day work as a Governess. However, now I had a reason. Leaving the Darkblades behind so I could become stronger as their leader was necessary. Soon, I hoped to gain the approval of those around me so I could put forth my fight as a Mandalorian.

Carrying a beskad in my right hand, I simply went forward. Intending to go for the Mineshaft. You see, everyone wanted the personal prizes of the Mandalore himself. I however wanted something else. I wanted a raw material that I could use to forge myself a new besakd. The metal was strong, and resiliant. A metal used in the weapon that I had trusted my life in since I was a teen. having left the Sith Empire during its fall, and now becoming the right hand to a literal Goddess, I was a tough customer to defeat. However, I couldn't use the force here. A beskad was my only weapon.

Taking a good look around me as I stood just outside of the Mineshaft, I took my first few steps in. Hoping that someone would face me.

[member="Særa Ayña Savan"], [member="Vassik Kilvaari"], [member="Freyia Whitelight-Carrick"], [member="Alicia Drey"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], [member="Jevar Xolius"], [member="Isley Verd"],

 

[Alicia Drey]

| [member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Jevar Xolius"] | [member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Freyia Whitelight-Carrick"] | [member="Særa Ayña Savan"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Zoey Marix"] |

The Mineshaft- one of three locations set by Mand'alor- loomed before Alicia. Observing the crevice in the ground, she saw scaffolding that made up it's supports; a lift supported by a chain, that she assumed to be made of the same material as the ramparts that surrounded it; and the rocky surface of Echo'lya's Earth, that led down into the caverns below. Making her way forward, Alicia was careful in her approach. Her senses, heightened by the Force, allowed her to feel if anyone or anything was close to her proximity. Although she kept her Force-sensitivity hidden to most, she couldn't help her natural gifts, despite what Mand'alor had ruled for the competition.

As she was passing by several loading containers, all currently empty, Alicia stopped by the mouth of the Mine Shaft. Lifting her gaze up to the sky, she felt a disturbance in the Force. A presence she had not felt for a long time. Someone from her seminal life, who she thought long gone. "Saera," she murmured. Memories of the Vixen- the wife of Circe Savan- flashed across her mind, playing images that she had not thought of in years. "How are you here?"

 

[Kadala Kotyc]

No force, no blasters, no armor.

For some, that would be terribly uncomfortable. Many relied on technology, a magic of sorts, or half an inch of durasteel to keep them safe in combat. Sometimes the young Skirata seemed to fit snugly within their numbers. After all, she rarely charged into battle without her armor, which felt more like a second skin than clothing. Nor did she often go anywhere without at least two blasters (hidden or not). The only thing she did not seem to use as a crutch was the force. This, perhaps, was because of the fact that she was still getting used to its presence in her life. It took time to start relying on something- and she most certainly had not had enough time to become dependent on the force.

If one glanced at her records, they might say she wasn't truly dependent on much else, either. Out of her twenty-seven years of existing, twelve of those had been spent without any access to armor, and perhaps twenty had been spent without access to truly advanced weaponry. As a member of clan Skirata, Kadala had been trained from a young age in the art of swordmanship. Many of her kin excelled in melee combat- it only made sense that they would pass down some of their knowledge to her. However, her training had been left incomplete, leaving her with just a fair amount more than the basics down. It was safe to say that she could usually hold her own in a blade-based duel.

But her goal wasn't to simply hold her own- it was to win. There wasn't much honor to be gained in being an average warrior. Kadala, who yearned to regain her clan's lost pride, did not find that acceptable. In her mind there was nothing to be gained from being a second-rate anything. That was one of the reasons she had joined up with the Mandalorian Empire, instead of simply staying with the United Clans. More opportunities for respect, combat, and training seemed to be present within the new faction. From her perspective, joining up with them had been the obvious choice to make.

So far that decision had proven to be a wise one. Conquests had already started, and now she was starting to receive training. Maybe that training felt a little... unorthodox, but it was training nonetheless, regardless of the form it came in. Even if that form was 'going into a facility with a bunch of other Mandos and trying to steal a coin from them'... If it weren't for the restrictions placed upon them, Kadala would have questioned the purpose of the exercise. As it stood, however, she acknowledged the effect of the limitations placed on them. Forcing them to use only melee weapons would ensure that they would get the experience they were looking for.

Of course, that didn't make her feel any less naked without her armor. She had come to the moon wearing some of the only casual clothes she owned. That included a leather jacket with 3/4 quarter sleeves, a basic red t-shirt, ankle-length trousers, and calf-high combat boots. Said items gave her no comfort- only the presence of her blades eased her mind. A curved beskad could be found in her hands, while two smaller daggers were sheathed at her sides, one by each hip. There wasn't anything particularly special about any of her chosen weapons. In the end, their effectiveness would be decided solely by her skill.

With that in mind, the young Skirata moved forward, entering the MINING FACILITY.

{[member="Isley Verd"] | @Freyia Wihtelight-Carrick | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | | @Z0ey Marix | [member="Runi Verin"] | [member="Alicia Drey"] | [member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Jevar Xolius"]}​

 

[Darth Rixas]

Servitude. There are times when one does not even realize they live the life of a servant until they are beaten to the dirt and forced to lick it from their master's boot; forcefully reminded from their place in sanguine strips and brutal commands. Then, then it becomes impossible to forget. Such fervor found itself largely unnecessary in Mandalorian culture, however. One often found themselves drawn to their leaders, whether rooted or newly planted. Such was the case with Oron and his older brother Isley, Manda'lore the Reclaimer. Oron knew him like waves knew shores, and amidst the numerous titles the Dark Knight collected over the years, after even his own declarations, wherever Oron was needed, he'd go if for no other reason than to sate his own lusts.

For many a moon there would be a war that would burn with a gelid flame between the Crusaders and other factions, such was the result of conquest. Those caught in their path would dance in a vicious waltz, a ceaseless tumbling over the no-man's lands of their atrocities, stumbling on copious bodies- in the end, forcing entreaties or eradication upon entire systems. And so, in the steed of such dreams, the Knights gathered upon the barren grounds of Echoy'la. There would be an exchange- One Knight apiece would have their melee prowess tested under the scrutiny of unforgivable surrender to the opposing participants. With such a burden for glory Oron felt the beating of Restraint deep in his mind as he gripped his bevii'ragir, feeling the hollow shaft of the beskar plated spear in the palm of his hand, warming up under the pressure of his grip. Would he be able to?

Time. Time was as cruel a mistress as he knew. For with time, came realization. Came truth. There was a time when the accent of the moon or the soft kiss of the sun would remind Oron that the galaxy still moved, that life was not some stagnant moment, that it was something he relished. For as night-tide surrendered to the dusky lilac and soft peach of morning, or twilight to the bloody descent of darkness he would not fall. His drive in the Mandalorian Empire would see his mundane state rise into hailed ascension or his body would crumble into dust as he attempted to do so.

With heavy steps, his booted feet crunched over the layered grounds of Echoyl'a in an eager trot as he moved towards the Quarry. Following a trail of salt- no, a trail of sugar laid by Oron's subconscious, his sweet tooth only to be sated once he reached his destination.

 

[Kadala Kotyc]

There was a tingle of air on the back of her neck- a beckoning call of fate, caressing her ear, inviting her to move elsewhere. She paused, casting a wary glance behind herself. Nothing awaited her but the facilities' shadows. No, she thought, just nothing for the eyes. For a moment she remained stationary, pondering her options. Two paths were tempting her, enticing her with assurances of glorious combat, luring her into their murky depths. Logic urged her to stay upon her original path. She had chosen to trek towards the mining facility for a reason, even if that reason seemed to slip her mind. But something else, perhaps an itch in her soul, directed her elsewhere. And in the end, who was she to deny her warrior's heart?

Only one choice was truly available to her.

In the end, she denied nothing, turning quickly, and changing her destination. Kadala's feet carried her as swiftly as they always did. Blood pulsed within her veins, urging her further and further forward. The thirst for battle filled her. It was directing her, as it so often did, orchestrating her every movement. When all else slithered into the crevices of her mind, the bloodlust remained. That facet of her existence presented itself in that moment quite clearly. Despite having had a clear pathway, she had shifted on a glimpse of a whim, and now rushed towards the equally unknown QUARRY. Her capricious nature simply loved to expose itself in frivolous manners.

Of course, the Mandalorian was frequently blissfully oblivious when it came to her own imperfections, as numerous as they tended to be. While she wasn't necessarily blind to the fact that her chosen course of action was... peculiar, she certainly didn't see any issue with it. Nor did she dwell on the matter. Such was her disposition- yearning so much for the clash of swords that she allowed herself to be enveloped by tunnel vision. If not for the enigmatic workings of the force, the young Skirata might have already succumbed to the consequences of her 'drive'. After all, no one, not even a seasoned veteran, could only claim victories. Some battles, perhaps like the one she currently sought, were meant to be lost.

That thought did not occur to her as she entered the QUARRY. The only thoughts she had were those of anticipation, the lovely rush of adrenaline that came before the inevitable. She did not know who she would fight within the complex's depths. But that didn't matter to her- it only mattered that she would, indeed, fight someone.

{[member="Oron Verd"]}​

 

[Vora Kaar]

Making my move towards the mining facility, I could see various footsteps towards the area. All in various boot sizes, and even some were just plain shoes. I was curious about this. Maybe if entering here was a bad idea, but nonetheless, I was to enter. Opening the door with a hiss as though the pressure of the room was leaving, I peeked my head in for a moment before entering. Bringing my sword ahead of me slightly should I have to use it.

The door closed behind me as the lights were slowly turning on. Really they were emergency lights that were dimmer than my sister. Well, as much as that may be funny, I had to keep moving. Pushing my way onward into the compound, I could feel others closer to me, however, fighting them to get what was inside, would be a different matter entirely. I had to keep moving. I wanted to maybe get something out of this. Moving from room to room, I looked upon many of the items. Various swords, special gear, and nothing that I was interested in. In fact, when I did find it, I smiled brightly.

I found what I wanted. Taking the small box that the item had came in, I took the crystal out, and slid it into my pocket. A blood red stone which was coveted by many for its rather powerful usage in a lightsaber. I began to head deeper into the facility. Maybe to fight someone, or find some items of more value.

[member="Kadala Skirata"], [member="Oron Verd"], [member="Alicia Drey"], [member="Zoey Marix"], [member="Saera Willamina Savan"], [member="Ronan Vizsla"], [member="Jevar Xolius"], [member="Isley Verd"], [member="Freyia Whitelight-Carrick"],

 

[Freyia Whitelight-Carrick]

Making her way as she did wondering who else would be showing their face here what was in store for them all. Even then after which time she had push on. After which time she knew what needed to be done that was to clear her mind off all but the task that would be at hand soon enough. Even then her own little feet was making almost no trace upon the ground. Thanks to her own mother teaching knowing that she would need all her training up to this point in her young life. Even then she looked around to what could only be what was to come.

[member="Isley Verd"][member="Jevar Xolius"] [member="Kadala Skirata"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"]