Eulogy for a Warrior [All Mando Open|Ures Alor]

[Ruug'la Jag]

Mandalore
Olankur Region

Theme

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hpbuiGSIII

The old Mandalorian warrior, simply known as Ruug'la Jag (the Old Man), wandered the Olankur frost heights. He was surrounded by veshok evergreen trees and cold winter winds that cut like daggers. He wore a long worn out pancho over his battle withered green fatigues and black and grey steel mandalorian armor. Beside him was his old pet Fang, a skeletal faced scorpion tailed raqour'daan wolf as old as he is with grey hairs among its once pitch black fur. Ruug'la Jag had long shoulder length grey hair and a bushy beard with a scarred eye and many smaller ones cut across his face. Stopping for a moment he surveyed the heights. Blag snow-capped jagged peaks stuck out the sea of trees beneath grey and blue skies. How land had it been since he had returned to Mandalore? How many years yet had it been since his clan was erased and he had become a lordless, clanless warrior. He had fought bravely for his people and his culture, and now he fought for no one. In fact, he hadn't fought in years. Even now back on Mandalore, he came not as a warrior returned home, but, as a n undertaker delivering the bones of the last member of his mercenary company back home.

Now it is just him - the last of the Old Ures Alor, the Leaderless.

Fang nudged his head into Ruug'la Jag's hip. He looked down and raised his open palm. Fang raised his head to meet it and accept the pat. The old mandalorian returned to his hike. At the top of a out cropping that rose beneath the skies Ruug'la Jag stopped. He looked around and nodded.

"This will do." he said in his low growling voice. Signs of an age ravaged throat scratched as he spoke.

Flipping his poncho up he revealed the mound of logs he had carried and threw them to the ground. Then gently he removed a steel dented box and rested it with up most care to the earth. He stepped over the box and began to arrange the logs into a pyramid pyre. Returning to the box, Ruug'la Jag removed a human skull. He held it in his hands and looked into it. His one good brown eye with its counterpart grey damaged silver peered into the empty eye sockets.

​"Well old friend. I am sorry it took so long. But, we've finally returned." he said.

He marched over to the pyre and lowered the skull onto the peak of the pyre. Then activating the flamethrower device mounted on his armour's forearm he blew a plume of flame into the pyre setting it alight into a towering conflagration. The fire could be seen from the base of the heights and it towered above the others in a giant smoke column.

"Ret'urcye mhi, ori'vod." [May we meet again, brother] Ruug'la Jag smiled bowing his head. Next to him Fang bowed his breathing heavily with his nostrils puffing ghosts in the frozen air.

[member="Teroch Werda"] [member="Calder Icehammer"]​

 

[Teroch Werda]

The desolation of Manda'yaim was a lurking pain in the mind of all Mando'ade. Being here only served to drive deeper the pain racking Teroch's heart. It had been a failure of the clans, of the Mand'alor, to allow such woe to befall their people. A new regime had risen from the ashes of the clans, but Teroch wanted no part in it. Instead casting aside old loyalties and embracing the way of dar'manda, forever lost and without people. Teroch took to the life of the beroya and ver'verd. Etching out an existence from the chaos of the galaxy. Yet always he found himself back. One could not wholly escape who they were. Strength of heart and home forever seeking to embed that fact.

So, as it were, with cold winds rising Teroch stood alone upon Manda'yaim. Resting his weary bones after another tireless hunt. The planet serving as a rest-stop in between contracts. Though today something was off. As Teroch looked skyward he saw the pillars of smoke rising in the distance. Signs of life where he thought none existed. Placing his buy'ce back upon his head then taking blaster in hand, Teroch strode forward towards the fires. Aruetiise had done enough to this world. If one sought refuge here Teroch would make them pay for it.

Two figures sat by the fire. One man, one beast. Teroch leveled his blaster at the two of them as he gazed at the funeral pyre. "Ni haa'taylir, gar Mando." Teroch lowered the blaster and took a step towards the pyre. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." The small prayer uttered Teroch turned his attention back towards the two there. "Meg gar gai?"

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[member="Ruug'la Jag"]

Spoiler: Translations

Ni haa'taylir, gar Mando- I see, you're Mandalorian

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la- Not gone, merely marching far away

Meg gar gai- What's your name

 

[Ruug'la Jag]

Fang was first to sense the coming of [member="Teroch Werda"]. He left Ruug'la Jag's side and turned its skeletal head towards the intruding mandalorian jutting his snot and hissing at his approach. Ruug'la Jag swatted at the raqour'daan on the behind. It whimpered and backed away. The old mandalorian titled his head to the side and rolled his silver eye back to watch Teroch as he asked, "Meg gar gai"

"Ni echoy'la vhey munit" [I lost mine long ago] said Ruug'la Jag. He then turned around to fully face the mandalorian.

"But, most call me Ruug'la Jag now." he said sporting a sly smirk. He then ruffled Fang's head and patted his shoulders gesturing him to seat. The beat grumbled and then lowered its hind legs curling its scorpion tail around it. Behind him the funeral pyre burst and crackled. The heat and light from the raging flame bathing the nearby snow in golden glow.

"Pardon me, my Mando'a is rough since my times roaming the galaxy." said the old man. "How shall I address you, ori'vod?"

 

[Muad Dib]

[member="Ruug'la Jag"] [member="Teroch Werda"]

So much had occurred since his sojourn into the Manda. Manda'yaim had to become a desolate Wasteland, void of the life that had once laid claim to this land. Many of his vode had to departed the homeland for greener pastures, promises of a future, an easier life. For for Muad Dib the planet Mandalore still sang in his blood. It was his home, regardless of how the other vode thought of Manda'yaim or the Mad Knight.

He sat with one leg folded over the swoop bike, glowing blue eyes traversing the ruined terrain. Where some saw nothing but a burned destroyed husk the Mad Knight still saw potential. This was not the first time the mando'ade had experienced suffering such as this. Neither would it be the last. But it was the first time that the children of Mandalore had looked to their own devices before rallying toward the future of their people and their home Manda'yaim.

Turning his head which was covered by his buy'ce, he looked into the distance and saw a plume of smoke. Stretching out with his senses he felt life in the distance. But the life that was there was colored distinctly with sorrow. Curiosity getting the better of him he mounted the swoop bike and started the ignition two head in the direction of the smoke.

Beside him keeping Pace with the swoop bike ran the Sith Hound who was his companion. During the man's time in the void he had missed a lot that had occurred with his people. Upon his return he had found that not only was their home world destroyed but so too was his people. Scattered among the stars they had abandoned what was their home. It left a foul taste in the Mad Knight's mouth.

Easing to a stop he shut off the engine and motioned for the hound to stay. He climbed from the bike and began trekking up the incline, removing his buy'ce and hanging it from the netting located at his belt. As he entered the small clearing he saw two men gathered, mando'ad by their appearance. Pausing on the outskirts he lowered his glowing blue eyes to the embers of the funeral pyre.

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."

He brushed the tips of his gauntleted hand at his brow, a sign of respect for the fallen Mandalorian. Having paid his respects to the dead he turned to the mando'ade still living and nodded a greeting as blue eyes glowed while pulling a flask of Whyren's Reserve from his hip. Taking a draught he held it out in offering.

"Ni dinu ner gaan naakyc, jorcu ni nu copaani kyr'amur ner vod. I'm Muad Dib."

(Translation:
Not gone, merely marching far away

Honor my offer of truce, for I would not willingly shed my brother's blood.)

 

[Teroch Werda]

Another soul upon the quite soil Manda'yaim. Teroch eyed the stranger in silence as he offered respects to the dead. It had been a lifetime since he had spoken with another of his kin upon this soil. Always the Mandalorian seemed to be off before another arrived, drifting from one job to the next. A harrowing chill ran down the length of his spine as Teroch stared once more into the pyre. For here three Mando'ade offered respect to a fallen brother, yet when Teroch perished he knew it would be done alone. There would be none to mourn him. None to remember his feats. None to gather his bones and burn them on Manda'yaim.

"I am Teroch Werda." The deep Mandalorian accent coming out harsh and half choked. The plaintives and idioms of Galactic Basic always a stranger on the warriors tongue. "Most Mando'ade have taken to Onderon. Strange to see others." Hands going up to his buy'ce, revealing his face to the cold air. Eyes casting over his impromptu companions once more. "What brings you both to Manda'yaim?" Then he said no more. It was not in his nature to speak much, not even to kinsmen. There was a mite of relief though, conversing freely. It had been near three months since Teroch had spoken to anyone, save for contractors and their respective targets. The aforementioned rarely offering engaging rapport.

A slight sigh escaped his lips. This might be a nice change, for a while at least. A wash of nostalgia to his younger days at the height of the clans' power came rushing in. Memories of celebrations and festivities, and the joyousness of victory. Teroch had lived for that once. Like all Mando'ade he believed war a holy venture. He thought it the only true way for his people to live. Then his home was razed to dust, his people scattered. He watched as his kin bickered for the Mand'alor's seat. Teroch wanted no part of it thereafter. United the Mando'ade were the greatest force in the galaxy. As they were now, just a shadow of that greatness could be perceived.

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[member="Ruug'la Jag"] | [member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Ruug'la Jag]

Another wayward son of Mandalore had revealed himself through the forests of the heights. Ruug'la Jag nodded to him and acknowledged his well wishes. This land is not dead yet? Or perhaps they are like mourners passing the grave that is our homeworld. Ruug'la watched the heights and remembered what once was. He did not dwell long. Such memories were like sirens in the dark pulling you into a quagmire of no return.

Ruug'la spoke to this new son, [member="Muad Dib"], "Hail, ori'vod. They call me Ruug'la Jag."

"Most Mando'ade have taken to Onderon. Strange to see others." said [member="Teroch Werda"]. Ruug'la Jag turned to Teroch and raised a white brow. "What brings you both to Manda'yaim?" continued Teroch.

"Have they now?" Ruug'la Jag replied. "Well I have not been to Onderon in many galactic cycles. I have spent my times in the Outer Rim regions. This is the first I have returned to this part of the galaxy."

Ruug'la Jag paused.

"Manda'yaim?"

"Hmph. This is a graveworld now. Where else would I bring the bones of my brother." he said pointing to the pyre of flame and the skull that had now broken into clumps of ash and charcoal. He then looked down at Fang, and while petting the raqour'daan he sat down on a snow submerged boulder. He gazed into the beast's yellow eyes beset in black darkness.

"He was the last member of a company I have run for decades. Made up of those cast aside by the Clans and their pompous fighting, clanless warriors who need no king, need no state....need no...Mandalor."

"Only battle and coin...heh." Ruug'la Jag smirked. "And now, like this blasted world of frost and earth, it will whether away to burn in the cinders of its past glory."

 

[Mia Monroe]

The flames lit a large patch in the fading light, casting deep shadows beyond its reach. A firgure, came to a halt within these dark shaodws, unseen by those bathed in the firelight. Curiosity had brought her, she wanted to see what could be tugged away from the farce that had become of the remaining mandalorians. If there was strength here, then all she and Ijaat had hoped for was perhaps not as far away as she had first imagined.

She hunkered down, hood drawn about her, soft snow caking the coat she wore and camouflaging her. She had spent a long time lurking in shadows. Mia Monroe was loud when it was necessary and quite when it was needed. The scorpion tailed beast at the old man's side turned his nose towards her, she could feel a his rising in its throat, and leaned forward, just enough for her eyes to catch the fire for a moment, before sinking back into shadow.

The hound would edge a little closer to his own master, wary. Mia simply smiled. All hounds were the same, the recognised strength and learned quickly what was, and what wasn't something worth rising against.

[member="Ruug'la Jag"] [member="Teroch Werda"] [member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Lyth Meran]

Lyth's skip the Berdick dropped in to a landing position.
she was doing her sister Kami a favor. well that was the thin. People like kami but kami was not good with people thanks to the Arkanian version of Autism.
pulling away from her console and move to get her helmet.
she hated that she had to use Songsteel. still she was too small and light for Beskar. that was the problem with being an As-Aki. finally hiding her pink hair and donned her prosthetic wings.

the ramp dropped opened and Lyth rocketed out and headed to the fire.
as she flew in. she commed. " Names Lyth Meran Alor'ad of the Meran clan." she said approaching.
Skeving snow. why was it always snow?
she hated being 12 inches tall.

[member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Ruug'la Jag"] [member="Teroch Werda"]

 

[Muad Dib]

[member="Teroch Werda"] was speaking and as he did Muad couldn't help but cast a shrewd eye over both newfound companions on this dark, cold night. Warriors both, each looking dangerous in their ability to cause havok. But it was their eyes that spoke volumes. Revealing a weary soul and yet there was fire smoldering within as is to say, I have seen hell but I shall not yield, I shall not break. These two were like Mandalorian iron. They had weathered time and still stood strong. It was a look he had seen in his own reflection.

Pulling a deathstick from an interior pocket he placed it between his lips and cupped his hands around it igniting the tip through the force. But as he breathed in glowing eyes watched the hound's subtle movements. Head tilted as the creature moved minutely closer the old man.

Turning sideways he glanced into the shadows seeing nothing but wind swept branches and a fresh coating of unbroken snow. Raising his head slightly he breathed in deeply through his nose in an attempt to catch a scent, but the wind was blowing the opposite direction. A final scan and he turned back to the vode gathered.

Dropping to a knee he took another hit off the deathstick while listening to [member="Ruug'la Jag"] reminisce of the lost days of yesteryear. Turning his head down he heard an open com frequency announce yet another arriving mando'ad. Pulling another inhalation of blue smoke into his lungs he viewed the whipping wind rip the cloud away, dissipating away as a vapor. A fitting reflection of life he mused.

"Onderon .... Pretty enough planet, but it's no Manda'yaim. Our world has been home and hearth to our people. And we try to kill her then abandon her like a painted whore ... Good for the night and some warmth but ultimately exchangeable. This is my home ... Despite her wounds and her affliction that the mando'ade have caused ... She is my home."

He spat in disgust into the snow.

"The old ways are being forgotten by our people. But the Resol'nare still holds sway over the faithful. I cannot forget, I will not forget my home nor my people. Wear our armor, speak our language. Defend ourselves and those we hold dear. Support our clans and raise our young to be mando'ade. Our Mand'alor."

Again he spat in disgust and rose to his feet. Seeing the new arrival and her small stature and frame he arched a brow before continuing.

"But our people have turned fickle. Clans have abandoned our ways. Beskar'gam lies gathering dust. Mando'a is rarely heard. Sharing our culture is too great a burden by most. And the Sole Ruler .... rules nothing. The mando'ade are scattered in the wind. But I will not forget. Neither our people, nor culture, nor Manda'yaim. She took me in when I had nothing. She saved me from a fate worse then death. She gave me a clean slate, cin vhetin."

[member="Lyth Meran"] [member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Teroch Werda]

"...A graveworld..." Teroch repeated as the flames danced in his eyes. It was strange, surreal, to hear such words. Woe he had voiced so long ago now echoing in the reaches of his mind. Others shared his pain, his ire. Pale firelight cast upon Teroch's face as he turned towards the men, filled with solemn vigor. "I lost claim to kin and clan with I chose dar'manda. I lost honor and glory when Manda'yaim fell. I lost faith our people would rise again when they left here for Onderon." Eyes closing a soft nod would fall from Teroch's head. "Still my blood burns hot. Mando'ad draar digu." Teroch looked towards them once more, eyes finally settling on the old man. "So does your tale end here ori'vod, or is there fight in you yet?"

As he spoke the Muad Dib looked into the shadows. To movement Teroch had not seen. He paid it not heed, not now at any right. His heart steeled at the fact three proud Mando'ade stood together by the funeral pyre. Teroch had faced more terrifying things than shadows with less, and had still come out on top. Still a hint of wariness fell over him. He had thought most abandoned Manda'yaim, yet here on this night so many had gathered already. There was truly no telling what sort of creature now lurked just beyond the fire's pale glow.

Teroch's mind was reeled back from that though at the sound of his helmet's comlink buzzing to life. Another voice, another stranger. Attracted by the death of a fallen kinsmen like all else here. A slight grin could be seen spreading across the stoic Mandalorian's face. He bemused himself into figuring what sort of person could produce the voice reviving his comm's. Whatever the case this night had surely turned into an event worth attending.

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[member="Ruug'la Jag"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Lyth Meran"] | [member="Muad Dib"]

Spoiler: Translations

Mando'ad draar digu- A Mandalorian never forgets

 

[Lyth Meran]

" ok first thing is first can we go somewhere warm? the cold tends to.. well kill my species. and secondly mu company is part of the rebuilding efforts on Mandalore." lyth replied annoyed at herself for not using her mini walker with the heated cabin.
but a human sized armored weapon would no doupt be seen as an attack.
" never the less. i'm here to offer aid and a hand in this reformation." She shivered seriously this was beginning to hurt.
she began shivering.
[member="Teroch Werda"][member="Muad Dib"][member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Rhan Komo]

[Member="Ruug'la Jag"] [Member="Teroch Werda"] [Member="Muad Dib"] [Member="Mia Monroe"] [Member="Lyth Meran"]

Delicately pinching salt Rhan dropped it into his pot, wordlessly his now empty hand outstretched to the left of him and was quickly filled a large brown root. Place on his hands by his partner he quickly began to dice the root and allowed each piece fall into his pot. The water continued to boil and change color slowly with this new ingredient. Slowly Rhan grabbed his ladle and stirred carefully, not wanting to ruin the delicate dumplings in his stew. His hand placed cover over the pot and with a quick nod to his partner walked away to begin on the other preparations for their meal.

A graveworld was a rather odd place to be, let alone cook, which Rhan found indeed odd. Not so much the cooking part but the the comm traffic he had picked up on the planet's surface was what interested him. The cooking was simply an afterthought when it came to the strangeness of the galaxy, rather food wasn't at all strange or odd in Rhan's honest opinion. One that his partner doesn't share, but she knew better than to come between Rhan and his cooking.

With his thoughts turning back to his cooking Rhan began to move towards the slow roast of his nerf ribs over their fire, the meat was marinated yesterday and allowed it time to absorb all the spice and sauce. Now slowly roasting over the fire Rhan checked the meat with a simple thin needle to see if any blood was still resided. Satisfied he quickly lifted the rack of ribs off the fire and placed on the cutting board next to him. His partner quickly followed and pulled out her vibro knife. Rhan did not want the bone to crack and splinter and so the vibro knife would prove very useful here.

"There's a smoke rising several meters away from here," His partner replied, her voice low. Her hands patted down her black apron. Similar to what Rhan was wearing, in fact both appeared as black clad ninjas wearing black cooking aprons. He knew he should go check it out but right now he was at the apex of his food, taking time to venture away would only ruin his cooking.

Gently he placed each small pieces of the ribs into a tray warmer he only nodded at first before speaking, "Hopefully nobody here are trying something strange, this planet has seen enough," Rhan answered. He looked over at his partner, her blue hair framed her head nicely while his own white hair had a rather rustled and ungroomed look.

"No stranger than cooking on this world?"

"Nothing strange about cooking, anywhere, at all. . . . Now ready the stew with some more of that special Naboo spice we picked up a while ago,"

 

[Ruug'la Jag]

([member="Mia Monroe"])
Fang rose his head and watched the darkness. Ruug'la Jag raised a bushy white brow at the darkwolf's strange behaviour. He tilted his head forward to the space in the dark forest Fang was nodding and bobbing his snout to. Old dark eyes strained to catch anything in that darkness. Life stirs still here, hmm. Noted Ruug'la. In the meantime, he rustled the head of the skeletal faced beast and calmed his suspicions. Fang relented and lowered his head to rest it on his crossed paws on the ground.

But, Ruug'la Jag's pondering was interrupted by the protests of [member="Muad Dib"] and [member="Teroch Werda"]. Fervent words of defiance in the face of Mando'yaim's desolation. Ruug'la Jag snorted and cracked a grin beneath his moustache. Perhaps the others would find his smirking an insult but, it was not directed as a derogatory jeer of the loyalty the Mando'ade had to their world and culture. Muad Dib was correct, the Clans had forsaken their roles in their in-fighting and the Resol'nare was nothing more now than some old mantra. He knew of them both, back when he had joined the Mando'ade; a broken warrior, a spent mercenary with no future or purpose. It was like Muad had said, Mando'yaim gave him shelter and a family...and then it took it from him with its ravaging.

"Have I become this jaded and cynical?" Ruug'la Jag whispered to himself. Teroch then delivered the question that he had been pondering on his enter journey back to Mandalor. Teroch looked towards them once more, eyes finally settling on the old man. "So does your tale end here ori'vod, or is there fight in you yet?"

Ruug'la Jag looked to Teroch and then glanced over to Muad. He then watched the last remnants of his oldest comrades skulls shattered into ash and debris. He exhaled heavy, expelling a ghostly vapor from his nostrils. Slapping his hands onto his knees he stood up. Fang hearing and seeing this leap up to attention. Ruug'la approached Teroch and laid an armored hand on his shoulder.

"Mando'ad draar digu, eh ori'vod?" Ruug'la Jag said smiling. "Perhaps this is the ends of a new beginning?"

"The fire burns and the skulls rendered cinders. It is time I...we...returned home for now. I have a ship...an old Crusader Class antique." Ruug'la Jag continued looking at everyone. "If you lot are interested in fighting and perhaps an old man's tales, you are welcome in following"

Ruug'la Jag beckoned Fang and began to march away towards the mountain side. Along the way he pumped into [member="Lyth Meran"]. He blinked surprised. "I hadn't known Mando'ade so small." He laughed a big guffaw and waved to the small Mandalorian to follow. "You are also most welcome, little one."

And on the path yet, others stirred. They came across [member="Rhan Komo"] and his partner, building a fire and stew.

Ruug'la Jag waved to them greeting, "I see others have built their own hearths here."

 

[Teroch Werda]

Teroch had been distanced from his kin for what seemed an eternity. Just speaking with them here for the small time he had lightened the Mandalorian's heart. So when it was that the Old Man offered a place at his table to the wayward soul that was Teroch, he could naught but accept. "I will travel with you if that is your wish. It has been long since I traded tales with my brethren." A soft nod went to Ruug'la Jag as Teroch slung his blaster over his shoulder and looked to the others. "I left this place, knowing always I would regret doing so. Yet I think it needed done. Only dishonor would have befell me had I rejoined the Mando'ade." His gaze falling only on Ruug'la now. "I think it time I found something else to fight for."

That said Teroch began trudging off towards the edge of the pyre's light. He would go to the Old Man's ship and accompany him back to his home. He was still a tad wary of the old fellow, but Teroch sensed something in him. A small facet that he had not felt in another since long before the fall of the Clans, and Manda'yaim. In the few moment he had spoken with Ruug'la, Teroch had felt more Mandalorian than in all the years he sold his skills for credits. Things were stirring now. It was time to become a true Mandalorian again.

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[member="Ruug'la Jag"] | [member="Rhan Komo"] | [member="Lyth Meran"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[4ND-R0]

[member="Ruug'la Jag"] | [member="Teroch Werda"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Lyth Meran"] | [member="Rhan Komo"]​

In the distance, a black Kom'rk-class landed upon the remnants of Manda'yaim. A young woman, dressed in similarly black beskar'gam, walked out with an anooba by her side. Strapped to her back was a long-barrelled bowcaster. Upon her helmet were silvery, sharp jaig eyes. She was Mirdala, once of Clan Betna. For long she had been lost.

She returned to this world out of a calling. The darkness of armor was significant, Mandalorian poetry for vengeance. Vengeance for an ancestral home smoldered into burning ash. For family unknown if alive or dead. She looked out as she saw others moving her way up the mountain. She pulled the bowcaster from its holder on her back, readying herself. Manda'yaim may have burned, but she was still rich in precious beskar. A few, ghost settlements were likely ripe for the steal from scavengers. She did not trust anyone until she saw them. She fired a shot into the air to get their attention.

"Mando'ade ra aruetise?!" She called out to the others, rather prefering to get answer, "Mandalorians or outsiders?"

She kept her bowcaster ready, and her anooba was on point, growling threateningly until she gave him a command to stand down.

 

[Muad Dib]

Muad stood silent in the night as they others spoke. A dusting of snow fell powder coating the armor beneath it's icy veneer. The flames consumed what was left of the fallen vod, and the cold breeze stopped the ashes, scattering them and intermingling with the snow. A fitting burial for a Mandalorian. Body returned to Manda'yaim surrounded by vode who mourned and celebrated a life. Respect paid to a brother whether he was known or not.

Watching the giant Teroch make his picking and move to the edge of the fire light made the corners of Muad's lips twitch up into a grin. The little, flying Mando answering the call of the Old Man as well. The Rhan coming upon the slopes and the challenge of Mirdala. The twitch of amusement came to a low laugh from the armored Mando.

"Perhaps we aren't as scattered and lost as I first believed. Mando'ade ner vod."

He called out to the black beskar'gam wearing mando'ad. A low whistle from his lips and a few moments later a tuk'ata eased from the shadows. The massive sith hound raised it's head and sniffed the scents in the air before it's own glowing blue eyes turned to meet his master's. A slight shake of his head calmed the beast who passed over and leaned it's body against Muad's side.

Patting the tuk'ata with an armored fist Muad chuckled again. The mando'ade still lived, right here, in the hearts of his vode. Even in the beasts that accompanied them. Looking at Teroch and the Old Man, Muad inclined his head in a nod.

"I appreciate the offer ner vod but I have business elsewhere today. And not all the Clans have forgotten the old ways. If you ever need me, or want me for a raid, you have my arm and beskad. And Clan Farr holds to the old ways. Count me as a friend and vod."

[member="Mirdala Betna"] [member="Teroch Werda"] [member="Ruug'la Jag"] [member="Rhan Komo"] [member="Lyth Meran"] [member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia watched the party shift from the fireside to travel towards the mountain, unmoving till they were clear of the firelight and far enough away that she could still hear them but they might not notice her. If they had reason to look behind them, they'd pick her up in thermal imaging, especially seeing as she was using the force to keep the cold at bay.

She stepped lightly, following them in the shadows, glad to hear that there was more of her people that believed the Mando'ade's move to Onderon had been a mistake. th fact that she had forced their hand was neither here nor there. Here were those who knew that no matter what Manda'yaim threw at them, this was their home and it's volatile no ungforgiving nature were what made them strong.

[member="Muad Dib"][member="Mirdala Betna"][member="Teroch Werda"][member="Ruug'la Jag"]