Bannerfall | Mandalorian Protectors

[Genesis Rostu]

Dagon marked their words well.

One of the things that being sensitive afforded the Blood Rider was an awareness of feeling. He felt concern. He felt agitation. The cocktail of emotion was surprising, enough so that the Mandalorian thought first to carefully consider what he said next in response. What the lone Namadi wanted was not rebellion. Nor was it Civil War. He had no desire to see those few who called Durango home slaughtered or slaughter over the throne of Manda’yaim. What he wanted…

”Mark my words, this is no Call for Rebellion.”​

He first placed his gaze upon the Old Soldier. He could feel the wellspring of frustration bubbling underneath the iron tomb he wore. And the answer he had provided to the Namadi justified it flawlessly. Dagon had been there during the first Civil War. So had so many others. He did not blame the Old Soldier for how he felt. He did not blame the man for wanting to avert the wrath and attention of Mandalore as much as possible. They all carried scars after all, there was no point in subjecting themselves to reopening them.

”What I ask is first, a mutual understanding. A new foundation that we-” he motioned to those present with his dominant hand. ”can all stand upon and build a life anew. An understanding that we do not recognize the Infernal as our Sole Ruler; and that we are also not without our souls.”

“What I ask is second, action. I do not ask raising our blasters against Manda’yaim. I do not ask bringing the eyes of the Infernal down upon us. What I seek...is that we who have chosen this life of exile stand together. That we live out the Five Actions one to another. That we provided for our clans and one another. That we defend ourselves, and one another. That we raise the next generation, together. That we uphold our tongue. And of course, wear armor.”

He paused, again carefully considering how to present his thoughts.

”I imagine...that we take up the mantle of the ancient Protectors. That we provide for the whole by the fruits of our skills - as mercenaries, guards, or whatever else we choose. That we live with some shred of decency and Honor.”

”I say again, I call us not to Rebel. But to unite and to Protect - each other and this new life we are building. And I ask that we do not kneel.”

”What say you then? Will you cast off the shackles with me?”

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Corvus Dravere"], @Bryanna Dravere, @Ursula Vizsla, [member=”Aay’han Ruyot”], [member="Syn Blacken"], [member="Daisy Americus"], @Dharkarta, [member="Daniel Americus"], [member="Roy Americus"], [member="Maggie-Rae Americus"], [member="Andi Americus"], [member="Jimmy Americus"], [member="Kaptan Americus"], [member="Rulk Rogan"]

 

[Ursula Vizla]

Half drunk and half pissed. That was how Ursula was when she heard Dagon’s speech about the Infernal One, she had no problem with force users before, the Sith were klarg mouths and the Jedi were too girly for her taste, but even so, Vizla did not agreed with the way they were cast out of the mando’a society. But not enough to turn her back to the Resol’nare, she fought for the Mand’alor, and would fight again like her elder before her. ‘Never get in the way of politics’ her father told her, and she should have remembered that before pushing the ones in front of her to stand in front of Dagon and the others that were talking about the way they lived as mandalorians.

Standing tall, with her chin up, not helmet in her head, allowing the red auburn hair to run wild with the wind. Her hazel eyes, hardened by the iron resolution in her soul, allowed Ursula to raise her husky voice in a vivid sound of strength, to Dagon and whoever else listened.

“How dare you speak of honour and shackles and say to live by only five out of six rules in the Resol’nare. Can you breath with only half a lung? Or live with half a heart? I am Alor Ursula Vizla, my house is the house of traitors and lickspittles at the eyes of my people in Mandalore, and i stand tall to live by my rules. I do feel the pain that others have felt just because they had better attachments with the force, truly... i do.”

And she meant those words, clad in black armor and burning hair, with her big eyes glowing in the crowd.

”That of being casted out and exiled. But those are our ways. When we became Mandalorians, we agreed to live by the ways of our people, and that means to respect the Mand’alor and her decisions. If these decisions are going to kill all of us, then so like our forefathers before us, we have to accept that. Without order and respect for our elders, there’s only chaos. If we unite, we will have to select a leader, and the only leader a mandalorian should recognize is the Mand’alor.” Pausing for a moment, Ursula remembered, by fate or ill, the words that her grandfather told her before dying. “At atiniir te aaray cuyir cuun ara, te Mando ara¹.”, in silence, after saying what she had to say, Ursula stepped down, back to her place with her clan members in silence.


Translation: To endure the pain/To tough it out… is our way, the Mandalorian way.

 

[Aay'han Ruyot]

Aay'han listened to [member="Dhakarta"] and [member="Dagon"], relinquishment from war. [member="Ursula Vizla"] made her position obvious. “At atiniir te aaray cuyir cuun ara, te Mando ara.” she says. But none of this answered Aay'han's concern. He was in a state of Dar'manda, and for any hope of the continuation of his soul, he needed to redeem himself. But the way was clouded, his control over the force was not such that he could foresee any events. An uncertain future was a deadly future, a dangerous one. Aay'han didn't want to die before he reclaimed his honor. He spoke up from the darkness. "And here is a proverb: 'Tion ke'gyce ner kad al'ijaat?' What guides my sword if not honor? I have not honor, so how can I fight? I am already broken, so why not break so that one may be made whole? I live with one lung. I live with no heart. Only by the sword can I make myself whole, so that my sword can then be used for the honor and glory of Mandalore. Hide if you like, run if you like. The infernal challenges my honor, declares me a hut'uun. I will not run any longer. I will eat off the land, I will drink naught but water, I will not rest my head upon a cushion, till my honor is restored. Mandalorians have become docile, bogged down with bureaucratic governments, and diplomacy. The Mandalorians of old would have spit in our faces. I will fight for a Mand'alor that stands for our people, not one who divides."
He stood up, a new purpose within him, giving him life, giving him hope.
"There is no greater honor than for a soldier to die in the service of his Mand'alor. But there is no greater honor for a Mand'alor than to die for his people. Kad Ha'ringer as my witness, I will fight. The worst fate for a Mandalorian is not damnation or eternal pain. It is to merely be forgotten. To be lost among the countless masses of dead passing to the next world with every hour that ticks by. To be forever seperarated from the actions of this world until all ememory of your life and deeds are gone, and long past being remembered. To have not a single tear shed in memory of your passing. That is the true nature of dar'manda."

 

[Mavrek Kordalas]

There was a slight clanking sound as he clapped his hands, and if any could pick up on it, it was very sarcastic. "All praise to Mand'alor! Or don't, it hardly matters. Our people have become little more than an angry fanatical horde, no better than the Sith or the Jedi. Exterminate something because it doesn't match our ideals... pah." Mavrek's tone was one of irritation, all of this talk was making him remember why he had become disillusioned with his people "When did we stop being an idea? When did we all of a sudden need lords and leaders?"

He scanned those assembled, wondering how long before someone would strike him for his words, "I admit, I wasn't there from the start, none of us were, but we're a damn sorry state compared the Mando'ade of old, squabbling over if we should or shouldn't use our enemies powers against them." pulling his helmet off now, he once again glanced to everyone with an exposed face, "My family, for generations has bled for our people, died for our people, and here I am, the last in the line of my family. If our so called leadership wants to exterminate us, let them try, we're an idea, and you can't kill an idea." he went silent, still scanning the crowd of those assembled, he was unknown by them, and now probably hated and wanted dead by some of those gathered, he didn't really care, he wanted to give his own opinion, they are his people after all.

 

[Samara Raine]

Cinara had come into CIS space for some ship parts that she couldn't seem to find in the Outback. In doing so at one of the shops, the mechanic had overheard a discussion about some meeting being held regarding exiled Mandalorians.

Well, that piqued the sandy blonde's curiosity as she just happened to be one of them; having left Mandalorian space not wanting to take the cure nor live under the laws that had befallen Manda'yaim after the Civil War, instead rather finding refuge within the Outer Rim territories of the Kathol Outback. But, life wasn't a bed of roses there either as it was a rather wild society and jobs were hit and miss. Joining a mixed clan was helpful, but Ci was still searching for a purpose amongst her people. She seemingly had always been running away from them for one reason or another.

Finding out where this Durango place was, Cinara showed up. The sand gold beskar-plated Mando took up a position to the back of those Mando'ade gathered around the bonfire and just listened to the vode speak for now; the flames illuminating their faces or buy'ce T-visors for her hidden blue eyes to study. The Grease Monkey had kept her helmet on while leaning against a tree casually, rotating a hydrospanner back and forth between her gloved fingers on one had lithely; a nervous habit for sure or bored perhaps. What she could use was a drink right about now.

[member="Dagon"]

[member="Mavrek Kordalas"] [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] [member="Ursula Vizla"] [member="Corvus Dravere"] [member="Syn Blacken"] [member="Daisy Americus"] [member="Brynna Dravere"] [member="Braan Kell"] @Dhakarta @Ge'tal Canadus

 

[Dhakarta]

It had been a long time since Dhakarta had felt angry. Properly angry. Most of the time she was just tired. But this [member="Ursula Vizla"] was raising her ire. It was one thing the vode who'd wanted to know how more strife and more splintering was going to make them stronger as a people. That had been a fair question. This though?

Still she didn't immediately jump into action, others spoke, and she brooded, internalising, turning Vizlas words this way and that until she could hold her silence no longer.

"You feel our pain? My youngest sister Runi was eleven years old. Do you know where we found her? Fallen over our mother, knives in hand and ichor staining the ground. She was raised with the Resol'nare as much as with Witch traditions, she fought to protect her clan until then end and she was slaughtered on the Infernals orders."

She didn't realize she'd moved forward, was hardly conscious of coming nose to nose with the other woman.

"How sad, you're an outcast, what would you do if you found your family like that? TOUGH IT OUT?" This last was roared. Her hands were twitching, she wanted to pull a weapon, to settle this like Mandalorians, but it was a summit, not a brawl.

"There is a reason loyalty to the Mand'alor is last and least of the Resol'nare, because if the Mand'alor does not obey then the Mand'alor is Dar'manda, and not worthy of being followed. The Infernal is soulless, and should have stayed in the hell she crawled out of."

"So you want what? For us to declare our own Mand'alor? What worth does the title have if there are many of them running about? You speak of respect for our elders, a child went into a portal she had no right being in, a child with no accomplishments to her name, no feats that she had preformed and yet who nevertheless thought she could tell us what to do, thought she knew better than those who have fought and bled and learned. When that happened the position of Mand'alor was broken. It is to be assigned or taken by one who is capable, who has EARNED our respect. There would have been no honor in killing that child, but she should not have been Mand'alor. And when a grown woman stepped out of that portal, informed us she was the child and took the name Infernal for herself? When she carried on disregarding the Resol'nare and splitting our people? THAT is who you follow? That portal went into the netherhells, any Witch could tell you that, and a creature comes out of it and calls itself the Infernal and you think you should follow it?"

Her voice dropped to a growl "You are an idiot. The only reason I do not march on that hellspawn is because so many of our people are also idiots, just like you. Blind and without thought. To kill her I would have to kill many of them, and would weaken our people. For now I hold out hope that their eyes will open and they will see her for what she is. That ALL of our people will come together and choose a new true Mand'alor. When that happens I will rejoice, but I will not add to our weakness by having many Mand'alors. If you cannot even see what the Infernal is then how can you and those like you be expected to know which Mand'alor is the true one?"

"No. Better, as [member="Dagon"] says, to live true to the five tenets that matter, to look after and protect each other as our Mand'alor should and will not, and to focus on making sure at least some of the Mandalorians still have honour. To protect our traditions and our way of life. To protect our souls."

"I will join the new Mandalorian Protectors, and I will stand for anyone else who does the same. I will honour my ancestors, and all those true Mandalorians who are marching far away."

 

[Daisy Americus]

Daisy remained silent, standing beside Corvus, and near to Ryn when the debate began. She listened. It was an old habit that she’d never quite been able to stop. Instead of opening her mouth and putting her own foot in it. She physically flinched inside her armor when she felt deep emotion burn within the Dravere at her side. A shot from a slugthrower, a punch to the gut, were all thins she would have stood tall against. But raw feelings? It caught her by surprise.

She both agreed and disagreed with the proceedings. [member="Braan Kell"] was someone she did not know. As of yet, she did not understand, but [member="Corvus Dravere"] was another case entirely. He was wizened in a way that she was not when it came to matters of this nature. Daisy only knew that remaining on Concord Dawn was no longer an option. She didn’t hate Mandalore, she didn’t even hate the Sole Ruler, or the one that had come before. It had broken her heart to leave her home and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

But the sad fact remained true. She had left, labled Dar’Manda, for something she had been born with. No amount of current softness and less harsh treatment could change how it was handled. She was still a force user. Half of her family had some sort of gift too. Why was it wrong to want to live as she had been created? To want to protect those she loved? Her family?

Wasn’t that what mattered?

Another man stepped forward. She didn’t know him either [[member="Syn Blacken"]]. He had a thin face, but long, auburn hair and spoke just as well as @Dagon. Others, like [member="Aay'han Ruyot"], seemed to be hiding just as much pain as they were anger. [member="Dhakarta"]…Dhakarta came with a new story. One that Daisy had not heard before. The young Americus was gladdened that she was still wearing her helmet. It would prevent anyone else from seeing her face. From recognizing, that she felt loss, and fear, from the notion of so many being slaughtered for no reason. She wanted to do her people proud by standing strong. It felt impossible. The weight of the words were crushing. Daisy had been under the impression that it was the former Sole Ruler, not the current, that had committed such atrocities. Was she wrong?

The mood was lightened between Dhakarta and the representative from Clan Canadus. The way he spoke was different, even, from the way her people spoke. Kerfuffle?

[member="Ursula Vizla"] spoke up next. She wasn’t entirely sure what the woman was saying. That they elect their own Mand’alor? Her eyes widened. Part of her wanted to stick her finger in her ear and wiggle it to clear out the wax that she imagined was messing with her hearing. What? It didn’t make sense. They had already gone against the grain by choosing exile, or, by remaining away from the call of the Sole Ruler.

[member="Mavrek Kordalas"] also had a few things to say. None of which was all that offensive, but, he seemed to like the posturing and squabbling even less than Daisy did. Some of them seemed only moments away from beating their chests and it was only a matter of time before someone exploded. Dhakarta was the first. The woman with golden hair, hidden by her armor, didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, when she did speak, it would echo robotically through the auditory equipment of her helmet.

“Udesii [calm down/take it easy]…Ah think we can all agree that our traditions and our ways of life are important. If you are present today it means that you have also found something fundamentally flawed in what has become of our people. You acknowledge this, just by standing here, and breathing the same air. Simply saying k’atini [suck it up] and get over it isn’t really possible… That’s why we haven’t gone back. The bloodshed has calmed. The ultimatums, as far as ah know, have stopped. Use of the Force is still outlawed, in general, but there is some level of forgiveness if you seek it. But, the bottom line for my clan is, for how long?”

Daisy paused. Her voice was soft, honeyed, and touched with a certain sweetness that seemed almost out of place when discussing something so dark. Her accent was so thick, especially when she was getting upset, that it might make some words hard to understand.

“Ah was born wrong. Most of my family was born wrong. My children will probably be born wrong too. Ah’m afraid of the winds changing again. We chose exile when our home wanted to put parasites in our backs or kill us. Ah have to stand by that choice. Everyone has lost someone. All are born. All die. But we are still here. We still have a chance. Ah joined the Protectors, before this meeting, because ah choose to make the best of what ah've been given.”, the young woman stopped talking, suddenly aware, that she’d been droning on and on. Everyone was too heated to hear any more long-winded speeches.

Her eyes flickered toward @Dagon. She supposed, in a roundabout way, he would have his answer. Daisy felt unsettled yet here they were. The tall woman did not think they needed a new Mand’alor but she also could not say she would answer the call of the current Infernal. Clan Dravere had evaded it for years, for one reason or another, and they were still standing.

Daisy stepped back, deeper into the shadows, and tried to make herself invisible. The twisting feeling in her stomach provided both clarity and caution. Was she dar’manda? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Was it worth it? All this debate? Their freedom? The simple right to live as they’d been born?

The young Americus sure hoped so.

Spoiler

[member="Dhakarta"] | [member="Cinara Vencu"] | [member="Mavrek Kordalas"] | [member="Aay'han Ruyot"] | [member="Dagon"]| [member="Ursula Vizla"] | [member="Corvus Dravere"] | [member="Syn Blacken"] | [member="Brynna Dravere"] | [member="Braan Kell"] | [member="Dhakarta"] | [member="Ge'tal Canadus"]