Faction Crusades and Crusaders

[Feydrik Munin]

Victory lay in their grasp.

Another victory, at the least. Their crusade was not done. They were not satiated- no, they were still hungry for war, for the advance.
​

The spaceship lay in the coldness of space, and Feydrik stood at the viewport in one of the many recreational areas, helmet-less, his armor being worked on and polished, cleaned and perfected by the careful hands of the armorsmiths aboard the ship. A daunting task that they would allow no help, would take no rest, and would offer nothing but their best. He was stripped down, bandages and bacta-patches on his hands, arms, face and neck after their recent battle. His body ached, his muscles were sore.

But he pressed on, he stood tall. They were once again on the move, towards their next great victory, their great next target. He turned his head as the door opened, another brother entering the room. He felt embarrassed, shameful in his unarmored state- despite the necessity of removal for repair. He turned his head halfway, his hands neatly clasped behind his back. He turned back to the openness of space, where in the distance, enemy ships- and other, decade old ships lay in the atmosphere from battles past.

The fleet had stopped to refuel and refit, bringing supplies, food, water, reinforcements and the transfer of the wounded to be healed to return to battle later. Feydrik counted himself lucky he was not among them- the Manda had greater plans for him still. He watched as the ships moved around outside the Destroyer they were on, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

"What a life we live, no?"

​

He said, not turning to the Mandalorian who entered. He leaned his head back, glancing further upwards to the stars, even above them.

"Such a great, magnificent place, the galaxy is. I forget it's beauty, in all of the carnage."

​

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Feydrik Munin
Crusades & Crusaders

Vreegan was absent during the time when Hakon Fett ascended to authority over the remnants of the Mandalorian Protectors, declaring the Great Crusade. This movement represented an extraordinary display of power by the Mandalorian people, aimed at reclaiming their heritage and reasserting their control throughout the galaxy in response to the challenges posed by the Sith Empire and the Galactic Alliance.

They had successfully struck a blow against the Dark Empire on the planets Ithor and Selnesh. While the outcomes for these two worlds remained uncertain, this action contributed to the downfall of the Imperial regime, aided by the Foundation—a humanitarian organization with militaristic tendencies.

Although their struggle against the Imperials was, in his view, a commendable endeavor, it remained to be seen whether they could free themselves from the dichotomy of good and evil and accept the singular principle that governs the universe.

The concept of war was regarded as a fundamental principle, and those who did not grasp these ideals soon discovered themselves in solitude and isolation.

Boots strode purposefully along the corridor of the warship, his cape flowing behind him, while his golden-beskar armor glimmered in the light. A solitary finger pressed against the door panel, unveiling Feydrik Munin , whose voice was not lost on him.

"The galaxy has changed considerably for our vode in the galaxy, and we can appreciate the beauty of what remains untouched by the conflict of war." He explained his thoughts, aware that only a limited number of places remained unscathed by conflict or the influence of the galactic powers.

 

[Brent Warnel]

The Crusade had regrouped to repair, rearm, and refit until the next push. After Ithor, Brent now knew his purpose. Before he was a Mandalorian, he had run-ins with force-users. They had led to his brother's death, Brent's falling out with his family, and the inevitable finding of the Mandalorians. While the first two points were negative for Brent, finding the Mandalorians and being accepted into the culture was a fundamentally positive result for his life. He had been absent of late, but he had returned, and now he was stronger and better after his absence. He had a Clan he could call his, a new suit of Beskar that had accepted him, and new Vod around him.

Brent held up the vial he had obtained from Ithor, admiring it in the dim light of the ship's interior. Once taken back to the necessary facilities, this substance could be made into a potent weapon that could hamper force-users. It was the reason for his gambit on Ithor, which had paid off so far. It was the reason for his renewed vigor. If this formula paid off, it would make Brent's new goal all the easier: the hunting of Force Users.

The vial returned to the hard case on his armor to be protected until he returned home. Brent pressed a button on the wall to open the door into a central hallway in the ship. Brent had no major ship of his own, so he had landed in this ship's shuttle bay with the remainder of his warriors after their battle on Ithor to hitch a ride back.

Now he wandered the ship, his thoughts bouncing around as he thought of his next move with the Crusade. As he walked next to a recreational area, he heard voices from inside that snapped him from his reverie. A quick push of a button on the door panel revealed the recreational area inside, along with two other Vod.

"I don't mean to interrupt brothers," Brent stated as he took his helmet off, and outstretched his hand toward a nearby table and chairs, "May I?"

Vreegan Fett | Feydrik Munin

 

[Feydrik Munin]

Calm, quiet and calm.



​

Feydrik turned to face the Field Marshal, then to the newcomer- Brent, he believed. He smiled and nodded, battered as he was. The chairs were welcome for all, and Feydrik enjoyed the company thus far, the quiet solace intermixed with the presence of his compatriots and fellow Crusaders.

"I do not want to be at war forever, Field Marshal- I know to some, that sounds of cowardice. But I do not believe that we are without an end, yes? I wish to enjoy life, as much as I enjoy the war." Feydrik folded his hands together in his front, bringing them close to his chest, rubbing his thumb over the opposite hand. Far be it from Feydrik to be labeled a coward, even if his inner self pushed back on the idea at times. Feydrik was much more than he lead on to be- and from even when he began his journey with the crusaders, as a Mandalorian even.

From the cage, to the stars. The stars that could be theirs, could be conquered. But Feydrik knew of life without conflict, without conquest. He wanted that again- eventually. There was work to be done for now, but not forever. He did not wish to die on the battlefield. He knew it would be glorious and righteous, but still, there was much of his mortal coil that he desired to do, to see.

"So much to see and to do, no? I don't want to see it all through the end of a gun."

Vreegan Fett l Brent Warnel

​

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Feydrik Munin
Crusades & Crusaders

Vreegan instinctively grasped his heavy blaster pistol as Brent Warnel entered the room. He harbored a profound suspicion that the remnants of the Dark Empire would dispatch assassins to target the leaders of the Mandalorian Clans, seeking retribution for their inability to establish an empire free from corruption and personal agendas.

While he did entertain the notion that the Imperial Cause might resurface to wreak havoc across the galaxy, he was confident that the Great Crusade would prevent such an occurrence, at least during the reign of Mand'alor the Anointed. His armored hand released the trigger as Warnel began to speak.

He settled into a chair by the warship's window and produced a hip flask, for there was nothing more pleasurable than to indulge in a meal and drink following a significant victory even against an inferior opponent.

"That is a noble dream, vode Munin. But peace will be beyond our grasp until the Butcher-King of Mandalore, Darth Carnifex is finally killed and all his ilk are disintegrated into ash for their betrayal." The Field Marshal said with a soft tone of voice perhaps unbecoming of him, but one that was vital to establish a meaningful connection with his brothers and sisters as they were all they had in a galaxy set against them.

The Butcher-King had corrupted the fate of the Mandalorian people, leading to a legacy defined by conflict and retribution. From Kestri to the historic Mandalorian Empire, they had endured and would continue to endure as long as the essence of what it means to be Mandalorian remained alive.

"I do not harbor hopes for a brighter future, for we are all shaped from birth to be lethal warriors, not artisans or pacifists as dictated by our customs."

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent saw the Field Marshall stiffen and reach for his pistol as he entered the room but thought nothing of it; being prepared or overly cautious was only a negative aspect to a specific clientele.

"Thank you, Vod," Brent replied to Feydrik Munin 's head nod. He sat, removing his helmet and staring out the viewport to the assembled fleet. Brent listened to the two talk back and forth about deeper meanings than just war. Feydrik brought up the point of peace, and not everlasting war. It was a point Brent had spoken about on Dxun with Carduul Akahl , and it was vital to him.

"If I may, brothers," Brent nudged into the conversation, "I agree with you," Brent said, inclining his toward Feydrik. "Establishing our rule and bringing a peace we have not known as a society is a welcome goal. It is one I also crave. All I have known for nearly two decades is war, and now that I plan to rebuild my Clan...I think toward the future and establishing a place where those who come after me can live without the tumultuousness of our time."

Brent turned toward Vreegan Fett , "I wish to bring an end to our enemies as well, Field Marshall; it is all I know. But I do not share your vision of not holding a brighter future. I have high hopes for my Clan's future. For this galaxy is full of darkness, and I wish to leave them in a different light than I was found in. I wish to leave behind in my legacy smiths, artisans, farmers and builders, shipwrights, and mechanics. I wish to have our civilization, our Culture, continue far beyond my death. I would see the Mandalorian way of life as a beacon in this galaxy, shining bright across the stars. Not as a candlelight held by a few remaining Vod who never knew anything more than war."

Brent stared out the viewport before he continued, "At some point, we must stop and rebuild our great Culture. Establish ourselves in this sector of the galaxy forever. There will always be warriors and crusaders, for our way of life breeds them, but I fear if we don't broaden our view, we will fall again as our forefathers did, never to return."

 

[Feydrik Munin]

Brent Warnel l Vreegan Fett l Carduul Akahl (get in here)
​

Feydrik looked out to the stars, hues of blue, purple, distant light, distant worlds. Stories to be told, stories to be made, people to see. Great vistas, grand visages to see. He listened intently to his brother's words, inhaling deeply as Brent finished. Feydrik agreed- there was much the Mandalorian culture had, and if they were not careful, they could lose most of it.

"I have heard of great works of art done by our people. The Iron Tree, the paintings on Mandalore. I would like to think that at some point in my life, I could create something the Mandalorians could see together. To appreciate. Perhaps poetry, perhaps art."

He shrugged his shoulders as if to say "but who can say". He smiled however, at the thought of a peaceful life, delving into the rich history of their people with grand works of art.

"A Mandalorian should be much more than a warrior, no?"

​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

“Peace and War are but two sides of a coin.”

Words echoed from the doorway that had opened once more. Beyond that stood Carduul, fresh from the battlefield that was Selnesh. Much of his upper body was unarmored, covered in bacta-infused wrappings. It had to be, for it looked as if what skin was visible was entirely deep purple. Internal injuries, no doubt—far more than mere bruises. His steps were haggard, bereft of the grace and stature with which he usually carried himself. The lean upon the poleaxe, ever his constant companion, was apparent.

Yet still, he felt no shame. Steps motion forwards towards the viewport. He had been listening. Perhaps he was proud of the varying, clashing thoughts. There was a reason, after all, he felt the need to allow new Clans to flourish under new Alors. New warfronts to be directed by new Field Marshals. Mandalorian culture was nothing if not diverse, and he would be depraved to smother every other view in favor of his own.

“War creates Peace, and Peace creates War. We perpetuate that cycle, but without our intended result kept clear in mind, we will never achieve peace. The galaxy we fight for is a tale as old as time; our people facing impossible odds. Those odds are peace itself.”

He paced across, from one side of the viewport to the opposite. Stalking the edges of the windows as he saw each star laid out in front of him. Each potential for another Mandalorian’s beginning. “We are to be stewards, one day. To teach the galaxy to one day be as strong as we are. To teach the next generation of Mando’ade. To revive in ourselves a long-bereft strength, and never let it be forgotten again.” Gaze peering outside thoughtfully, perhaps a touch morose with the statements.

“The Butcher-King. Dha’nast. Carnifex. Do you know the worst part, of having to face such a foe, my kin?” The question lingered in the air. “His retribution will not be an affair of righteous vengeance. It will not be something glorious. It is a question. One that, perhaps, each of us may one day face regardless.”

Carduul turned about to face them all, the poleaxe tapping with its singing reverberation as he leaned against it.

“How much is one willing to sacrifice, while still being ‘Mandalorian?’”​

His voice rose as he posed the query, a bruised arm sweeping wide across them all. “Because that is the question Carnifex poses. You cannot kill him through normal means. You cannot extinguish what he represents entirely, as much as he has not been able to stamp us out for an age.”

Gaze trailed sidelong, a hum quieting him for a moment. “That is a question we will have to answer, one day. But if t’was hinged upon at every waking moment, then it would be no better than merely waiting for defeat. And that is why we must never forget the people we are, nor the many reasons why we fight.”

Feydrik Munin Vreegan Fett Brent Warnel