By Chance (Zaz & Company)

[Strider Garon]

Concord Dawn​

​

Strider walked into the smoke filled cantina, clad in his dust speckled armor and his ancient EE-3 carbine secured tightly under his armpit with a three pronged quick release harness. Such a sight would raise a few eyebrows anywhere else in the galaxy, just not on a world populated by the clan ruled warriors known as the mandalorians. So the old man walked in pretty much unnoticed, sides from a few nods of respect from the local patrons that recognized the legendary warrior, the infamous hound of keldabe. His tattered golden cape flapped in the gust of wind, a symbol of rank when he was Marshal and now just a piece of garb to his attire.

He would return the friendly nods as he made his way to the bar. A droid named DeeDee was bustling as usual. Strider could not come to grasp why such a unattractive piece of equipment had such a sultry voice that could melt any lonely man's heart into puddy and yet not be some form of attractive humanoid. It was maddening to the hound.

Strider removed his helmet and placing it on the bar top, jaig eyes facing the bar itself. His jet black hair was messy and damp with sweat. Was hard work loading supplies for the homestead, they didn't have much hands to work with yet nor did they have droids to pick up the slack. The old man did not mind though, seemed honest work with out death plaguing every step you took was a good feeling. A change in pace, plus, he had been working close with his son and daughter in-law which had given him free reign access to his grandson.

The low light would catch on his leathery olive face. The cruel scar was emphasized, leading from from left jaw line all the way up across the eye and ending just above the eyebrow. His left eye, was white. Not like that you see of those unfortunate individuals that happen to have a dead eye, this was just a spherical white object where his proper eye once occupied. Under his chin and on his throat was a another scar, more horizontal like and cleaner than the gruesome on the left side of his face.

"What'll be hun?" The droid inquired in a sultry down south drawl.

"I swear DeeDee, if you werent a droid......." Strider's voice was low resonating yet graveled and horse. Sounded like he had throat cancer, but far from the truth. Nothing like a wrist blade to wreck your larynx, taking a way what he considered was a handsome voice.

"If I were human, I'd still have standards Strider!' The droid sassed back.

The old man smirked back " Half glass of Corellian spiced ale to get me started DeeDee, hold the snark!"

Few seconds later, he had his glass of spiced ale and a cigar in hand already lit and puffed upon. Was a good way to end a hard days work.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Many people often asked Zaz if he had a master plan for everything or if he just made it up as he went along. The answer, today more than ever, was both. He had ventured to the other side of Concord Dawn, far from the base of his own warriors, in search of supplies that they desperately needed. The Dominion had supplied them with rations, weapons, and most of the systems needed to get their camp operational but now they were beginning to run low on food and water. Many Commanders would have merely requisition their host for another supply, however Zaz was all too wary of The Dominion becoming too involved with their affairs. Besides, why have someone else do for you what you can do for yourself?

As his men loaded the supply crates into the land skiff Zaz watched them closely, curious of these men. Two of them were new recruits, eager to join Zaz's cause. While he enjoyed the new soldiers they were still low in numbers, and most of the clans regarded them as little more than rabble.

It didn't matter, time would change things like that. He took in the surrounding area, a camp open to all clans, usually used for those hoping to refit or even stop in for a bit of rest. His eyes allowed a certain light when he saw the cantina in the center of the camp. He glanced back to those who had been running supply runs all day, most were tired and eager to wind down.

"After the skiff is loaded up get it back to camp. Whoever stays behind, you got two hours then I want you back at the ship." He stated before moving away from the transport. The Mandalorian made his way to the cantina, pulling his buy'ce off as he passed through the entryway. Rather busy for the late afternoon there was a cloud of smoke drifting through the air, the mixed smell of cigars, food, and dark liquors filled Zaz's nose.

A smirk came to his face as he contemplated which one he'd start with. Making his way over to the bar he slid onto a booth, clipping his helmet to his waist as the bar droid made her way over.

Her sensors scanned him over briefly before she gestured towards him with one of her metallic appendages. "The usual?" She asked in an artificial southern drawl. He could not help but be amused by how much work had gone into a mere bar droid. "The usual, sweet circuits." He confirmed with a playful grin, pulling a credit chit from his belt and tossing it on the bar counter.

As the droid sauntered off to see to his order he took in the atmosphere around him. The bar itself was busy but still spacious to where each man could own his privacy, the booths surrounding the bar were all but filled, many men returning from hunts, supply runs, training, and all other manner of work you'd expect of the Mando'ade. All in all it was a good atmosphere to immerse yourself in.

As the bar droid returned she set down a glass of Corellian Whiskey, on the rocks, Zaz's preferred drink of choice. After collecting the credit chit she returned to the bar before her, collecting glasses and polishing the counter as needed. Just as Zaz pulled his glass to his lips he noticed the smell of whiskey had been short cut by the fresh aroma of a lit cigar. Another thing he would be needing before the night concluded.

The cigar was strong and flowed through his nose with a certain spice that piqued his curiosity. Glancing over to the source of the cigar his eyes fell on an older Mandalorian, black hair not too much darker than Zaz's. Like most Mandalorians of age he had a gruff demeanor about him, something the younger Mandalorian could respect on sight.

"That a Shento?" Zaz called to the man two stools over, gesturing to the cigar as he spoke.

[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Strider Garon]

The full bodied bitterness of the smoke from the rashallo leaves rolled around in the older mandalorians mouth, entertaining his pallet before he let it escape from his lip's grasp. He slowly looked over to the man that was talking to him, making sure his good eye made direct gaze contact. "It is!" Strider replied while studying the man two seats down. He was a young mandalorian, sporting the warrior hair cut and distinguishable tattoo on the left side of his head. Though sitting down, one could tell he stood above average human height and didn't take a full inspection to see that he bolstered a formidable muscular build to his frame. This observation was not the first Strider had made on this particular person, though this was the first time he got to do it in person. He recognized Zaz from the intel briefs in the closed council meetings. Was under security threats.

There had been plenty of whispers that clan Tal'verda were marching to their own drum beat and more concerning was this young pup Zaz was posturing for the Mantle. Not much else was given to it, bigger fish in the pond to worry about was the way most looked at the current situation. Dar'manda was tossed around, but some folk pass that word around like candy, feeding into the frenzy of distrust and isolation with in the ranks. Especially since it had been confirmed the catastrophic event on Mandalore was created by three traitors.

Now this was random but Strider wasn't going to waste such a chance to get the full measure of such a character. The old man could pounce from his chair and end this nonsense with a well placed blade. As he twisted about on the stool, pain from deep in his right hip sparked. Karking sciatic, he inwardly cussed. I am getting to old for this. Add that to the arthritis playing wonders on his non bionic knee, he was re evaluating violence. Old men grew wiser in time because their body could not take the foolishness of younger thoughts and actions.

Instead, he took a long sip of the spiced ale before placing the cup down onto bar top. Now, the reports he did get about Zaz entailed that he was no fool. The chances of him not knowing who he had stumbled upon was pretty low and in fact Strider was pondering if this was more of a set up than just 'By Chance'. He gave the room a somber look about, see if there were anymore Tal'verda about. Mean if said man was passionate about his cause and ambition, taking out one of Mandalorians greatest warriors could be a big step towards said goal.

Death comes for us all........"You are a few warrior shy if you plan on killing me, Tal'verda!" He gallantly boasted with all the defiance of honey badger. "Still some fight left in these old bones!" sure he did, though this young bull of man in front of him was probably enough match for the venerable Garon. Guarantee a couple decades ago the old man could of taken on the entire room and come out on top. But, his prime was long past. He was lucky to make it through the night without having to go pee three or four times.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

 

[ToKola Bakari]

There was an odd feeling that came with being noticed through one's reputation. Zaz felt it flow through him as this old dog spoke to him. The old Field Marshall had served more Mand'alor's than Zaz would ever know and his own reputation was leagues above most other Mandalorians. His words brought an untamed smirk to Zaz's face. Rather than offer an immediate response he moved to down the liquor in the glass before him, the small burn built in the back of his throat being just what the Doctor ordered.

With his drink downed and his attention focused he returned his sight to Strider, another whose reputation preceded them. "If I wanted you dead I wouldn't take you down any way other than by myself." He stated, a youthful confidence rising up to the older man's. It was true, killing this Mandalorian could be a benefit for his plans in the future, hell if nothing more he could save himself some headache.

The remark of Garon's old bones brought another smirk to Zaz's face. Most Mandalorians of weathered age felt the sting that each battle left them. Not in wounds and scars but in their joints and the tightest parts of their bodies. Yet he said nothing to this, feeling it irrelevant. While Zaz was a good warrior even he knew who stood above him, and Garon Strider was one such person, for now.

"Besides, why would I kill you? You're an honorable man who has served Mandalore for years. Oh I'm sure the council has branded me as a mad dog set to destroy everything we all hold dear." He scoffed the final words, tapping the bar to summon the bar droid back to their end of the counter. "Another one, and see the Marshall's glass filled on my tab, no warrior should ever see the bottom of his glass."

As the droid saw to both of their drinks Zaz turned in his seat, leaning on the bar as he spoke to the man. "Tell me, how is Mand'alor these days? Still hiding out in the Onderon system?" He challenged, curious to see Strider's response.

[member="Strider Garon"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] [member="Strider Garon"]

"Worse part of my cousins ego is that he likes to wave it more then the Republic Military," The Mandalorian placed his helmet on the bar table next to his cousin, farthest away from Stider. His gold and black armor was very apparent, the clan symbol painted on both sides of his shoulder in bright red to draw the eyes. Gregor wasn't one for flashy noticeable object of interest, but it was his fathers armor. Older then most, it wouldn't hold up against newer armor, but he wore it to honor his father, not for its protection. "Ignore his..." Gregor paused as he looked for the flaws in his family member. His silver hair and glassy gaze scanned his cousin for a second and then looked back at Strider with a cracking grin, "Well everything, and you might find he's not such a bad person." He knew this would recieve either a slap or a laugh from his cousin, but entering the room without making fun of his cousin. Well what kind of Madalorian would he been then.

Gregor was watching from afar in case his loving family member decided to get into yet another one of his famed bar fights he so loves. Though most considered his cousin as brash and a brute, he wasn't one to picking a fight with a legend, not without a plan. He though it was weird that his cousin had asked a Clan Knight to join him on a simple 'Milk Run'. Seeing the one and only Strider here of all places of course didn't sit well in the young Force Users stomach. Funny enough, he got use to this feeling when he was with his family.

Still, it was quite a shock to see this ancient legend in person. The stories alone that surrounded this man would make most people avoid all kinds of talk with him. And then there was his cousin, their great and fearless leader. He just walked right up and decided to have a nice little chat with him about the Mand'alor, a position nearly every person on Concord Dawn knew he was gunning for. The pure thought of it made the Knight mentally wince in pain. At least the man had the thought to pay for the mans drink.

 

[4ND-R0]

[member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] | @Gregor Tal’verda

Yet another of Zaz's group had walked to the opening of the cantina. She was followed by an adult anooba, panting and lolling its tongue. She stopped by the front door, snapping her fingers and pointing to a shaded spot. The canine beast obeyed well, as it trotted to the shared and laid on its haunches. She walked into the establishment, seeing that two others of her party had already taken up residence there. Her beskar’gam was assuredly feminine, but also black like burnt char. The poetic color of vengeance in Mandalorian culture. On the right shoulder piece was a red symbol: a stylized mythosaur skull with a circle of fire wreathed around it. She approached the two Tal’Verda boys and the old vet near them. She seemed to stare at the old man from behind the t-visor. A pair of silvery jaig eyes adored the crest of her helm.

With little words, she removed her helmet as she sat down in a booth nearby. Short, blackish brown hair, tanned skin, relatively youthful appearance. She kept dark eyes between the other three. Attached to her back, rather than the typical jet pack, was a folded up energy how, not unlike what the Dathomiri witches used. But mostly, she kept to herself, apparently having no intention to harm anyone, but seemed to be attentive to Zaz in case she was needed for something. The service droid came up to her, asking her for an order. The Mandalorian woman made gestures with her hands, some sort of galactic sign language. The feminine automaton went to the bar and came back with a brown drink with a frothy head. Some sort of beer or ale.

 

[Alleycat]

Mesh'la Dral put the last of the farming supplies she'd ordered in from the general store into the back of the lined cargo bed of her speeder truck, then pulled a tarp over the goods before securing it down as the trip back to the Garon homestead would be long and dusty. When her helmeted head popped back up above the side of the silver truck that's when she spotted [member="Strider Garon"]'s hog parked outside the cantina down the way. Figured that is the first place where the Hound of Keldabe would go upon returning to Concord Dawn from one of his merc jobs. That would mean too that [member="Aden Dral"] would be back as well hopefully in good order without anything the young medic would have to doctor up for her still ex-husband.

Even though Mesh'la and Aden were living and raising their son together, she still hadn't taken the young sniper back fully in a marital way after he disappeared on her and Valen for almost two years. He had said the vow to remake their riduurok to her for which Mesh had broken during his time away, but she had not recited those sweet words back yet. Her Tor-Detta stubborn pride was still getting in the way of things moving forward for the couple in that regard; the timetable uncertain at this point. The only thing that truly mattered to Mesh'la was the two year old son they had conceived from a mix of love and grief during a stress filled time. The rest, if it happened again, would just be extra icing on the cake.

Pushing away those wistful thoughts, Mesh'la made her way to the cantina and entered through the swinging half doors that were typical on the frontier. The golden-haired baar'ur slipped off her red and black buy'ce that matched the beskar'gam worn and clipped it to the utility belt that was slung low off her shapely hips along with twin holsters that had Rippers in each, then electric blue eyes spotted Strider up at the bar counter talking to a much younger Mando to which she did not recognize nor the other Mando'ade that seemingly were with the first.

"Su cuy'gar, Stri'buir," the petite blonde said as she came up beside her father in law, putting a gauntleted hand upon his broad shoulder plate with an affectionate pat. "Me'bana?" she asked as her blue gaze flicked from him to [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"].

[member="Gregor Tal'verda"] [member="Mirdala Betna"]

 

[Judah Lesan]

They had come back from work... the fun kind, the kind where Aden got to shoot people. His job was to make sure everyone made it home safe because he took out the problems before they happened. Aden was glad to be home though. A souvenir had been brought back from the job for Aden, a few casings from the fight strung on the dog tags of some merc. His speeder bike was in full throttle back to the homestead. He'd promised Mesh'la a quick return and was determined to make good on that promise.

Merja was waiting at the house with Valen, but Mesh'la was not home. Playing with Valen would have to wait as there was a rather large order, and she was certain to see Strider was in the cantina. If she saw Strider's bike she was certain to go in. That could be fun to see... the old man doing his thing at the bar. It was always a sight to behold, and this bar in particular always had the old man flirting with a female service droid. Sometimes Aden wondered what the old man wouldn't do for a good time.

Walking into the bar it was noticed right away the old man had company, but Aden's eyes were on the shapely figure which donned the red and black armor. He smirked as her shape was a sight for sore eyes. Aden had been exercising will power. but that shape really had him wishing she would renew their love sooner than later. Right, maybe one drink to help him with the nerves, urges, whatever they were.

"Look at that... such a sight for sore eyes," he said with smirk as he sidled up to the blonde, and waved the barkeep for a drink.

[member="Mesh'la Dral"] | Mirdala Betna | [member="Gregor Tal'verda"] | [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] | [member="Strider Garon"]