Bannerfall | Mandalorian Protectors

[Genesis Rostu]

B A N N E R F A L L​

DURANGO
Haseria, Local Time 2137

Their people were always diverse.

As a culture which thrived on Conquest, it was only natural that their armies became a melting pot. With every world consumed by fire, new subjects knelt before the Sole Ruler. New species, new tactics, and new skills became apart of Manda'yaim. One would think that there would be some arbitrary divisions in the wake of these assimilations. One would think a purist mentality would erupt within the natives of Mandalore towards the Conquered. But it never came to be. Never once in their history had one vod discriminated against another for taking the Resol'nare. Never once were there petty divides over race or planetary origin.

They were, simply, one army. One force. One people.

But there was a line drawn in the sand. A line that would place vicious seeds within the hearts of Manda'yaim. Some would point the finger at adversaries past, blaming them for the existence of this discrimination. Others would simply call it scapegoating. But however it came to be, the Mandalorians drew their line at the Force. In recent history, those who would not stand for that power among their ranks took up arms. A bloody civil war ravaged the once United people, until only the aggressor reigned supreme. During this period, a "cure" for their enemy was developed - and those who were "cursed" with the Force were given a choice.

Be cured. Be exiled. Be executed.

For many months, this was the sordid reality that many had to face. But with all things, change came when a new Sole Ruler ascended the throne. Where her predecessor was unyielding in his dogged crusade against the Force, she was liberal. Some might even say merciful. She lessened the severity of her laws, allowing some room for the "cursed" to yet remain apart of the melting pot. But the sentiment yet persisted among her subjects. And the underlying reality was very much apparent - their peace existed so long as a Sole Ruler tolerated them.

What happens when the next Mand'alor rises to power? What happens when the crusade is reignited? What would happen to the little bit of peace and the little of tolerance that the "cursed" had?

Their entire world would burn.

It was for this reason that some decided to take the choice offered by the Undying. To neither be "cured" or fall on their sword - but to seek a home elsewhere in the stars. To start anew, to build anew, and to Protect themselves from the sting of home. Clans great and small found themselves within the Outer Rim, flocking to a dusty world known as Haseria. There they would find an odd, yet earnest, assortment of souls - Clan Americus - and the homestead that they had built by hand. Durango was not Sundari. Was not Mandalore. Was not like anything that the exiled "cursed" had seen before.

What was it? A fresh start. A new beginning. Open to any who did not want to risk life under the Empire again.

Yet, while the walls of Durango began to swell with new lives, the question of direction began to circulate. The question of identity. Who were they now? What would they do? Would they ever take up arms to aide their former home? Would they take up arms against their former home? Were they...truly, Dar'manda?

Those questions needed to be answered.

And so, a moot was called. Under a black sky blessed with countless stars did they muster. Armored warriors huddled together about a roaring bonfire. Some came bearing little more than the Beskar on their back, others carried literal banners bearing the sigil of their clan proudly.

Dagon Namadi was one such.

He placed his posterior upon a stone, planted the base of his banner into the dirt, and reached high for his buy'ce. A simple tug revealed a tanned face and midnight locks to the cool breeze. For now, the Blood Rider said nothing. His thoughts would be held until the others arrived.

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Aay'han Ruyot"], [member="Betty Americus"], [member="Dhakarta"], [member="Ursula Vizla"], [member="Daniel Americus"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Daisy Americus"], [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"], [member="Kaptan Americus"], [member="Jimmy Americus"], [member="Rulk Rogan"], [member="Andi Americus"], [member="Corvus Dravere"], [member="Brynna Dravere"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Corvus didn't like meetings. He especially didn't like Mandalorian clan meetings. It wasn't that he, himself, had bad experiences with them - but he knew what they'd been used for in the past. And he also knew he had a war to be fighting at home. But when it came to politics in his neck of the woods, he wouldn't be much of a leader if he just ignored it for the sake of isolationist policy. A frown on his lips, he made his way towards the bonfire. His escort remained some distance away, their speeder resting beneath an outcrop that would hide them from aerial view.

He came to stand at the line between the light of the fire, and the darkness of night, his armor bearing the industrial stamp of mass production. Lacking the visor associated with most Mandalorian clans, his sole mark of recognition was a mythosaur within a red star outline with gold. With darkness at his back and the glow of firelight at his front, he reached his left hand over to tug the kevlar of his right glove a little tighter over his fingers, then repeated it with the left.

It was an old habit, one he'd developed as a means of ensuring there weren't any potential tears or breaks in his suit. He said nothing, and left his helmet on for the moment. Why bother taking it off?

[member="Dagon"]

 

[Ursula Vizla]

In the past, her clan and a hunch of others were declared as traitors. They did not agree with the new of her nation and country, a fight broke out, one that she ignored and abstained, stayed in her house property in Concord Dawn. Not long they left, they lost, they were traitors and cowards of the Resol'nare, and Ursula Vizsla became by all the rights, the new alor of her clan. Two branches existed because of that, House Vizsla of Ronan Vizsla, mandalorians without a home, and hers, House Vizsla, true mandalorians that she recruited to her cause through out the space, now from Mandalore.

She was faithful to her way of living, She wore the armor, black for justice, justice for her name and she spoke the language, defended herself and her new family, Ursula would raise her children mandalorians, and when called by her Mand'alor, she would come. For now she did gigs for rebels and criminals, but she loved to work for the Confederation, not only because their pockets were filled with credits, not only because they paid her an enormous amount of money, it was because they valued her work and herself. She could drink for free in any bar in Confederation space, for she was considered a member of the Protectors.

A group of strong man, no doubt. But Ursula accepted the position of commanding the Terrornauts, a branch of CIS, a group of powerful soldiers that fought like hell. They soon became her unit, she trained their asses off, she beat them with whips and clubs, she proved their loyalty by teaching them how to fight like mandalorians. And in there, that planet she was assigned to a gathering of the protectors and their clans, she brought her own house from Mandalore, no all of them, only the best, and many of her Ultranauts. And raising a big cup filled with falleen beer, Vizsla, know and only called by whoever it was by either "alor Vizsla" or "Commander Zero", without her bes'kar helmet raised her voice in a powerful chant.
"Drink, schuttas! Drink until you're fighters again!"

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

Though fearful of his heritage, Aay'han was still proud of it, and would continue to fight for it. But he would always be different. He had the force, he was the sole survivor of his clan. The reason of his clan's extermination was still unknown to him, but the day still passed through his mind with clarity. The terror, the fear, the dishonor.

He wore his beskar'gam, as black as the darkness surrounding him. Paranoia fueled his survival. Trust no one, all would stab him in the back, and leave his bones to bleach in the dirt. He came armed, not heavily armed, but then he never did arm heavily. Agility was key to his combat, large weapons weighed him down.

He came just within the fire's light, enough to make his armor gleam, the mythosaur emblem on his chest stood out like a ghost, his helmet, painted like a predator allowed him to observe everything. His encounters with his people rarely went well, he didn't expect that to start now. He wouldn't run away from the possibility of peace, but he was prepared for every option.

[member="Dagon"] | [member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

[member="Ursula Vizla"]

 

[Syn Blacken]

Syn always found meetings of this kind interesting. The gathering of Mandalorians, a group of diverse and strong people. All here to discuss their future, however, Syn wasn't certain how this would end. He did hope they'd come together like in the stories of old. Of Mandalorians who'd come together to find strength and power with their brethren. Years ago he would have fallen head over heels for the idea. Back when he himself with apart of a clan.

Now without one Syn felt as if he was on the outside staring in. Those around him tonight had a purpose, they knew what they wanted to do and what they hoped to achieve. He, on the other hand, was just here to listen and hopefully watch them forge something that would stand the test of time.

However, his hopes weren't high. Syn was used to people failing when it came to matters such as this. He himself had failed his own kin years ago, and if he could fail those here today certainly could. Even more so when its something of this scale.

 

[Daisy Americus]

This was not the first meeting of Clans that Daisy had attended. The last that she could remember clearly, was back on Concord Dawn, before things started getting really bad. When they’d settled on Haseria there had been so much work to do that there hadn’t been time for any politics. The locals had been a little suspicious about the newcomers, but for the most part, seemed content to live and let live. Daisy was perfectly fine with that. It was more cordial than some of the Clans treated each other. Especially, when the cure went active, and she’d been on edge almost every minute of every day.

Some made the choice easy for themselves and gave in. Daisy didn’t want some parasite injected into her body just to squelch something she’d been born with. She hadn’t asked for hoodoo magic, and truthfully she didn’t want it, but it was part of her. The threat of potential execution for sneezing the wrong way had left a sick feeling in her belly that hadn’t left until setting foot on Haseria. Even now the golden-haired Americus felt a little paranoid and did her best to keep it under wraps.

This was her home now. Though she missed where they’d come from, had wept, and argued when it came to leaving—this was home now. Some of the Mandalorians present didn’t have the same issues she did, shoot, even some of Clan Americus had come along simply out of loyalty. Family stuck together through thick and thin. Some had simply just needed a fresh start. Here it was.

Were it not for her forcie hocus pocus she might have missed the silhouette of [member="Corvus Dravere"] standing at the edge of the area. Like many others, he had a certain feel to him, and once she knew he was there she felt silly for having not noticed with her eyes. Her amour was different than before. Not the same purple and white, with the specifically designed helmet, but that of the Mandalorian Protectors of Haseria. It was less comfortable but no less functional. The color scheme was darker with hints of deep blue that made it seemed almost black. The standard unit was shades of beige, white, and brown. “Hey.”, she murmured to the head of Clan Dravere, her cheerful, sweet tones pouring from her helmet with ease.

Even if Corvus couldn’t see her face, and the equipment was different, he had been around her enough that her voice would tip him off.

There were plenty of others surrounding the bonfire. Some she knew and some she didn’t. Some were boisterous, intending to drink, until the war-spirit found them again. [member="Aay'han Ruyot"], from the Sierra Blanca, and many, many more. She hadn’t realized that so many different Clans had actually decided to settle here. Politics was something her Pa handled, while Daisy, focused more on the practical day to day. “It’s good to see you again.”

Even if she couldn’t really see him. He loved his helmet, almost, more than she loved her slugthrower pistols.

[member="Syn Blacken"] | [member="Ursula Vizla"] | [member="Dagon"]

 

[Brynna Dravere]

Ryn herself had never been to this Mandalorian meeting of the minds, but she had of course heard of it from the day she could remember being old enough to know such things. It was perhaps one of the more exciting things that could happen upon her recent return home, but she really wasn't sure what to expect. For one thing, she hadn't been back long, and for another she wasn't entirely certain why she was there in the first place. As if standing five feet tall didn't make her stand out enough she arrived after her father Corvus, and she was dressed like a Sith, not a Mandalorian. Her dark cloak flowed around her as she moved through the gathering, ice blue eyes only having one mission; to find her father so that she could join him. She had chosen a black head-wrap for her lekku, red tattoos showing through the straps that wound around each head tail and draped over her shoulders almost like one with hair might drape such a thing.

"Father." She spoke as she reached Corvus' side, her hand moving to his arm even as her eyes looked to the companion that he was with, taking in the much taller woman's appearance, though not once tilting her head back to look further up at anyone just yet. "Who is this?" Her eyes did not linger long on the woman, interesting as she may or may not be, and instead went back to looking around as she took up her place at Corvus' side, hand disappearing under her cloak once more and a lekku twitching faintly. Part of her really hadn't wanted to come to the meeting, for more than a few reasons the least of which not being her research that was currently on a med slab and waiting for her to finish. It was what she really wanted to be doing, but she had learned in her time away that politics could be as useful as anything else in this galaxy, and she may as well start getting into the flow of things if she wanted to make this a true home with her people.

[member="Daisy Americus"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

He didn't recognize [member="Daisy Americus"] at first, but he did once she spoke. Despite the distortion of her helmet, you couldn't hide that honey-thick drawl anywhere. His blood sugar rose just hearing her greet him. He seemed particularly annoyed by the fact some people were being rather loud, but then again, what Mandalorian council didn't, eventually, devolve into something loud, violent and drunk? The Dravere's had always been a somber lot, and it showed.

His voice, when he answered, was as soft as the mist of breath in winter air, and each word was ground out from his throat with the slow surety of a glacial advance. "It's good to see you too, Daisy." He remarks, momentarily stopped by his daughter's appearance. As she came alongside him, her fingertips briefly greeting him while she studied Daisy, he smiled faintly. She was here for a reason, and it would be interesting to see how the other's reacted to her presence.

"This is Daisy, Ryn." He says, gesturing from one to the other. His head hadn't even turned this whole time. With the way Mandalorian helmet displays were set up, he didn't have to. He was still looking 'forward' even though he was taking in all of his surroundings. "And Daisy, this is my daughter, Ryn."

She looked exactly nothing like him, though she was taciturn enough to clearly be of some familiarity.

[member="Brynna Dravere"]

 

[Daisy Americus]

If Daisy noticed that Corvus was annoyed with the boisterous behavior of some of the Mandalorian Clans present she never let on. Instead, the young woman smiled behind her expressionless helmet, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see it. He could be such a grump. However, her trip to Aalay had proven that there was more to him than old the ghost stories and tall tales. Sure, Clan Dravere was a little intense, but they weren’t monsters. “How was your trip—“, she spoke, halting, when a young Twi’lek woman appeared from what seemed to be thin air.

The much taller woman blinked as her HUD panned out and gave the full realization that this female was a mere mite of a thing. Itty-Bitty. Daisy was ninety-nine percent certain she could hoist her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but, what really caught her attention were the lovely crimson markings that laced pale skin. Blue eyes, for contrast. Pretty, in the golden-haired Mandalorians eyes, even if she had rarely seen other Twi’leks to make a comparison.

Father?

Her silent evaluation paused, briefly, with the singular spoken word as it caused a distinct sense of surprise. Her visor focused between one, then the other, trying to find similarities. She really couldn’t. Rather than introduce herself, the girl left the privilege to Corvus, which Daisy also felt uncertain of. Ryn didn’t seem to be too much younger than she was but, her placement made Daisy remember hiding behind her mother’s apron strings when her cousins got a little too mean as a child. Was her armor threatening? Somehow, glancing at Corvus, she doubted it. Between the two of them, he was most definitely scarier. The young woman turned fully to focus on Ryn, feeling it respectful, to provide her with undivided attention. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her response felt generic, her accent thicker than a bowl full of day-old oatmeal, but it was honest. It was nice to meet her. Anything that filled in the puzzle that was [member="Corvus Dravere"] was something that held her attention. “Ah’m with Clan Americus. The rest of my family should be along in a little while but ah suspect we won’t wait forever.”

“Too much time passes, I reckon, and we might have to carry out some of our new friends in wheel boroughs.”

[member="Brynna Dravere"]

 

[Brynna Dravere]

As she was introduced to the woman, Ryn gave her a cursory glance over to establish the very basics about her. While everyone always, always wore armor, she knew there were small differences in the designs, build, and overall customization on each suit that could identify the individuals among a sea of suits. Ice blue eyes took everything in quickly and with a curt nod, she would look to the woman's helmet before she looked away and spoke. It seemed that she didn't mind being watched, or studied as it were, as it was something that she had grown up experiencing thanks to her quite startling differences to most of their clansmen. The red markings along her lekku and what was visible of her neck and chest seemed long healed and well placed, though no doubt painful on such sensitive areas.

"A pleasure. Ryn Dravere." She spoke in a very simple, to the point matter, and while she was a tiny thing that looked nothing like her father, the tall, looming example of what their people really could be, she did seem to act and speak much as he did. She did not, however, offer out a hand to shake just yet, her arms and hands still hidden beneath her long cloak. Already her ice blue eyes were scanning the entire room again, always on the move to watch those around her even as her lekku moved faintly at the mention of carrying others out.

"I doubt it would be seen as a meeting if there were not those that needed to be carted out and back to their own homes." That seemed to be how things went, from what she had heard and read. She really didn't find drinking to excess to be a good idea, in any situation, and she disapproved of the idea of it in general outside of her wine she sipped for enjoyment when the occasion called for it. With her piece said she fell silent, standing just as unmoving as Corvus while she watched the others, then glanced back to Corvus as if to see if she were doing thing correctly in his eyes. He knew far more about all of this than she did, and with her lack of emotional range, it wasn't always easy for her to see when things were going well or not. After her glance to her fathers helmet, she looked back to Daisy, another small twitch in her lekku seen from the intense young woman.

"Is the meeting to start soon, or will they simply continue to drink until they recall the reason for the gathering?" The question itself could come off as meant to offend, but she merely stated the question to actually find out the answer, fingers lacing themselves in front of her underneath her cloak with a faint swish of her clothes.



[member="Daisy Americus"] [member="Corvus Dravere"]

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

Aay'han sat on a rock, separated from the others. He hummed to himself, some alien song that involved lots of clicking, as he cleaned his blaster for the fifth time that day. He needed a flask, he thought fleetingly. He often needed a drink, and needed one now, but there seemed to be no alcohol where ever he went. Other Mandalorians arrived and gathered, greeting one another, meeting some that they had not met before. Aay'han scrubbed vigorously on his blaster, just to make it a little shinier than it already was. No one wanted to meet him, and he didn't really want to meet anyone. He was hear to listen, not to speak, not to make friends, but to learn and catch up on the goings of the galaxy. Thought he traveled often, news often disappeared in a glass of some toxic liquid.

He found it hard to believe that a Mandalorian could regain his soul by a simple meeting, much less that anyone would agree to that. There was only one way in Aay'han's mind that could regain his honor and right as a Mandalorian. The Ultimate Test, one that tested one's strength, and one's bravery. A task that may lead to death, but to ultimate resurrection of the soul.

 

[Genesis Rostu]

They were so different. And yet, all the same.

As his sable gaze abandoned the Bonfire before him, Dagon noted just how unique his compatriots were. A mere glance at the oncoming arrivals was much akin to skimming the pages of Mandalorian history. Some appeared in "traditional" beskar'gam, others in veritable tanks; and yet they all stood as one upon the Resol'nare. While dizzingly different, the had a single foundation upon which to build. But before they could lay a single stone - before they could move forward, together, they had to address the Mythosaur in the room.

The Sole Ruler.

By this time, Dagon reckoned that enough had arrived. Any others who were yet approaching could catch up as the meeting proceeded. While vital, there was nothing stopping any vod from asking questions - as not a one of them were a tyrant. Reaching, the Blood Rider clutched his banner and rose from his seat. A handful of steps bore him before the roaring blaze, where he then turned to face those present. He wet his lips and unleashed a shrill, yet brief, whistle.

It would shriek over the chatter, over the Ultranauts, and over the engines of speeders powering down. Undoubtedly, most eyes would be upon the Namadi - and he seized the moment.

"We live and die by six tenets."

"Wear armor. Speak Mando'a. Raise warriors. Contribute. Self-Defense. The Cause."

"But right now, we stand here instead of under the Infernal banner. And many ask, does this make us Dar'manda? At what point are our souls forfeit...at what point is it right to shun the cause?"

"My brothers and sisters...I argue that the Sole Ruler is more subject to the Resol'nare than any one us standing here. I argue that whomever sits upon the throne becomes apart of every clan, apart of every House, and therefore it their duty to fulfill the Six Tenets for each and every one of us."

"Our Sole Ruler is to wear armor. And she does."

"To speak our language. She does."

"To rally our people? Sure, she does."

"But."

"How is she contributing to our welfare when our own people are hated, blamed, and shunned under her banner? How is she defending her extended family when edicts exist to exile or 'cure' us? How is she raising the next generation of warriors when one of the greatest weapons is loathed?"

"Who then has lost their soul?"

"Not I, nor any of you."​

"I argue...That we are not soulless. But we must therefore take action to protect ourselves and to ensure our own wellbeing - for the Infernal regime will not do this. And only Kad knows who or what will succeed her throne."

Dagon paused, only to impale his banner into tje dirt.

"I propose that we forsake the Sixth Act which binds us to her throne. That we forget her cause and her Empire just as she forgets us."

"What say you all? Do you see and feel as I do? Will you cast aside that shackle with me?"

Spoiler

[member="Corvus Dravere"], [member="Brynna Dravere"], [member="Ursula Vizla"], [member="Aay'han Ruyot"], [member="Syn Blacken"], [member="Daisy Americus"], [member="Dhakarta"], [member="Daniel Americus"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"], [member="Andi Americus"], [member="Jimmy Americus"], [member="Kaptan Americus"], [member="Rulk Rogan"]

 

[grammaticus]

Up until this point, Braan had been silent. The few members of Clan Kell that had accompanied him were also silent, their eyes staring at the others present uneasily. Clan Kell still held to the old ways, true warriors and hunters to the last. A simple disagreement had led the Clan to depart from the Mandalorian Empire, though Braan had declared they remained true to their roots. They had traveled for some time alone, until finally receiving this call. A gathering of those who were lost and confused, cast out on their own decision or that of others. They were here now, to see what this man that had called this gathering had to say, for better or for worse.

Once he began to speak though, Braan began to lose his sense of unease. He sensed a potential here, the words reigniting something within him that had long since been dead. Only after the mans peace had been said did Braan finally move, stepping away from the small contingent of fully armored and helmeted warriors to come closer to the circle the others were in. He briefly looked around at them, not removing his helm though he made eye contact with several of them.

"You speak well, and make good points. But what you suggest is dangerous. How will we ourselves be contributing to our people by standing against the Mand'alor? What strife would it bring to our people. Already, as I am sure many of you have heard there is the prospect of a new Civil War brewing within the Empire, roused by the Mand'alor's own blood. The destruction it will bring will cost our people dearly at a time we cannot afford it. What then would you suggest we do?" Braan spoke slowly, accenting his words every so often with a wave of his hand underneath the cloak he wore across his right side.

In truth he had little care for the Mand'alor or these Exiles, but he wanted to know what the others here thought of their peoples plights.

Spoiler

[member="Dagon"] [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] [member="Brynna Dravere"] [member="Daisy Americus"] [member="Corvus Dravere"] [member="Syn Blacken"] [member="Ursula Vizla"]

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Corvus didn't respond to either woman. Instead, he stood, hands clasped in the small of his back, shoulders squared and spine straight; a statue in the trappings of the galaxy's most dangerous mercenaries. He listened. He listened because it was his job. And he didn't like what he heard. What he heard was invective - it was inflammatory. It was exactly the sort of speech that had brought them to this place to begin with. And that narrowed his eyes, and for those Force Sensitives around, anger and annoyance flashed red in his aura.

Behind his back, where the shadows of night hung like cloth from his arms, his hands tightened together, the pain of his grip focusing his mind, preventing the blood from pounding in his ears. It worked, only partially, and he was thankful for the self control he'd developed.

His younger self would have started a fight almost immediately. He still wanted to. But that was not his purpose in being here. So he bit his tongue, and was thankful when [member="Braan Kell"] spoke. When he was finished, Corvus himself spoke up, voice soft as winter's first snow but with the strength of glacial ice beneath.

"Your vitriol is dangerous. It is the very same mentality that brought us to this juncture, after all." His own clan had never been outcast - but they had been isolated, and only sparingly sent help to each call from their Ruler. "And yet, it is something we have already done. Many no longer respond to that rally call."

So to that I ask, what is the purpose in this?" He asks, curious as to what [member="Dagon"] was aiming for. "Is this a means of ensuring you know, for certain, who stands with you? To establish the 'us and them' in the same way they have? That way lies war. It draws attention to us. Attention many of us have already had, and fled from."

[member="Daisy Americus"] [member="Brynna Dravere"]

 

[Syn Blacken]

Syn couldn't describe how much he hated being told about his 'people'. He agreed with Dagon for the most part. Few were apart of Clan Blacken but not a single one bent before the Mandalorian Empire, not anymore. 'The Sole Ruler' was not his leader nor his extended family if anything she and her followers were his enemies.

And any Mandalorian who expelled, 'cure' or execute those who born gifted, those who were willing to fight and die for them, were not Mandalorians. They were traitors to everything they believed in. To everything, he used to believe in.

Braan and Corvus were both coming from a place Syn understood. They had the right to worry, the Mandalorian Empire was something else to them.

Once he saw an opportunity he took his chance to speak. Unlike the others Syn moved into the light without his helm, he wanted them to see him clearly. 'I respect what the both of you have said, however, I must say that I disagree.' He knew he had to do his best to seem tame, at least on the outside.

'Our Ruler is supposed to ensure their people are well being is key but how can one do that when they exile large swaths of their own over something they were born with.' Syn cared not what any thought about his comments. He stopped caring about how others viewed him oh so long ago. 'Something that instead should have been harnessed as a tool to aid in bettering our warriors.'

'My people are the lost, confused and exiled both here and across the skies. Hiding ourselves away does nothing for the Mandalorian Cause, just like their exile. We must speak our truth.' Or Become Cowards! Syn wanted to add but he knew that would likely lead to a confrontation, unfortunately, that was not what he'd come for. 'We are Mandalorians, True Mandalorians. Be us gifted with the force or not. That Empire has failed us.'

 

[Brynna Dravere]

Ryn fell quiet as the leaders began to speak, but she shifted to stand at Corvus' side while they were all watching whoever was speaking at the moment. She easily felt the flash of anger from her father, but knew he would restrain himself. As such she didn't concern herself with the spark she felt for him, and her icy blue eyes slid to Syn as he began to speak on those that were born different. She knew from experience what that was like, knew what it had done to her father who had raised her alone, and found herself giving a slow nod of agreement with both Corvus and Syn. There would be nothing really gleaned from looking at anyone still wearing a helm, but this man had chosen to actually be seen, not just heard, and there was merit in that so far as she could tell. Listening closely, her lekku would move from time to time within the confines of the straps around them, though she remained otherwise unmoving, features unreadable. She had no say in what was going on, and wasn't entirely certain why her father had requested her presence, but she was there to support him and obey the summons. Perhaps he thought she might learn something, though she couldn't really see herself ever leading her Clan in the future.

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

The words of [member="Dagon"] startled Aay'han, but he did not disagree with them. [member="Braan Kell"] was searching for something, Aay'han could tell that through his body motions despite the lack of emotion in his speech. Aay'han couldn't pin point what, but he was ready to go onboard. [member="Corvus Dravere"] and [member="Syn Blacken"] comments were a blur in his mind. He disagreed with Dagon's view that they were indeed whole, but they did still have a right as Mandalorians, and there was still a way to regain his honor. He clicked his tongue to himself. He did not come here to speak, but he felt the need to say something. Unsteadily he stood, and limped a little further in the firelight. The Crusader stood tall and imposing across from him.

"You speak of rebellion against the Mand'alor", he muttered shakily. Many many millenia ago, the Mando'ade invaded an ancient Republic. There were those Mandalorians that fled the field, cowards. Yet to save face, when they were captured, the Mand'alor sent them back to the front, again and again till they stopped fleeing, or paid their debt with their blood. Our people were born of blood, forged by blood, and survived through blood. We have had more than one civil war, and Mandalore still survives. It's people still survives.
"I may be a reject in my own mind in reflectance of the great Crusaders. But the Mand'alor has no right to push us aside. I will be accepted in the ranks, I will be sent to the front. If I will not be given that chance..." His helmeted head scanned the small crowd. "Then I will gain my right with the blood of the Mand'alor on my hands." He backed out of the light, and slumped back down on a rock. His blaster still tight in his grip.

Talking was tiring, his head still hurt. He needed a drink, he was starting to feel dizzy. Some heated anger was tangible as his senses became clear. The alcohol was vanishing from his system, things were becoming painfully clear. Too clear. That's why he drank, clarity brought pain.

[member="Brynna Dravere"] | [member="Daisy Americus"]

 

[Dhakarta]

Arms crossed and face uncovered, Dhakarta listened to those who spoke. Some made good points, very similar to those she would make. And others were there only to drag feet and cause even more division. To accomplish nothing. With a snort. She stepped forward.

"Few of you know me, I am Dhakar'ta of clan Kotir. Fewer still will know my clan. We were of Dathomirian blood, I am of Dathomirian blood. Witch blood. When the Infernal decided to invade Dathomir, a planet which has ever been an ally, and offered two options, be cured or die, my clan was slaughtered. My mother and two younger siblings. All three of whom had answered the call in the past and would answer it again had it been raised, were killed."

She was grim as she said this. No tears in her eyes. It was a hard loss, but likely all present had lost.

"I have heard the Infernal called by her supporters 'The Mother'. I agree that the Resol'nare binds the Mand'alor even more tightly than it does any individual Mandalorian. Tell me, was she looking after clan Kotirs welfare when she killed us? My youngest sister had not even completed verd'goten, but she had fought and killed in battles past, following the resol'nare. Did she deserve to be slaughtered by the one who was meant to protect her? What fit mother kills her own children? We are to raise them as Mandalorians, as warriors, not slaughter them!"

"The beauty of our families, is the understanding that blood is not all. That it is the will to bind yourself to another, to fight beside them, to have their back that makes a family. Any who embrace the Resol'nare could join us, and be welcome. I see a Twi'lek, shall we cut off her lekku to make her fit a more standard mold? I say that NO trait shall be discriminated against! As our forefathers before us accepted all, so too shall we! Only the will to be Mandalorian matters! Not witch blood, not species, will alone!"

"I named myself Dar'manda. for surely my soul was lost with my family. And surely if what the Infernal represented was the ideal Mandalorian, I wanted no part of that and would rather be lost."

"NOW I SAY THIS. I am Mandalorian! I am more Mandalorian than the Infernal ever has been or ever shall be! I have kept true to the Resol'nare when she has not!"

"More than that, I need no Mand'alor to keep me true to the Resol'nare. I know the code. So I too reject the sixth tenet. It has been bastardized. What was once the first among equals has instead become a tyrant seated upon a throne passing down whatever edicts they wish regardless of the first five tenets. Are we pathetic, mindless aruetii who will so easily bow to the will of one? THAT I say would make us Dar'manda."

"I do not require the blood of the Infernal. I do not say we should march upon what she has made her fortress and drag her out onto the streets to spill her blood where all may see it. But I do say she is no Mand'alor of mine. That I do not need one. And that she had best pray she does not meet me on the field of battle."

"So says Clan Kotir. Small though it be."

She stepped back, indicating that she was finished.

@Dagon @Corvus Dravere [member="Brynna Dravere"] [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] [member="Syn Blacken"] [member="Braan Kell"] [member="Daisy Americus"]

 

[Ge'tal Canadus]

"Anything that tells us not to embrace our aliit, it is not so good, eh? It's a kerfuffle that didn't ever need to happen. Coulda all been worked out over a mickey."

"Clan Canadus doesn't need a Mand'alor. If we've got a decent one, that's nice, but we can work out our problems and know what we need to do and what is right and wrong without one. We'll not be giving anyone the right to hurt our family or our allies, though we'll of course listen to anyone elses point of view."

This said, Ge'tal sat back down, giving Harry, his pet beaver a pat.

[member="Dagon"]