Zagara Vao
Writer account. Check my characters out!
You may be the daughter of a slave, ad'ika, but whether your parents were Mandalorian does not matter anywhere near as much as what kind of Mandalorian you'll be.
You wear our armor now, ad'ika. But remember, it's the clansman inside, and not the armor, that makes a Mandalorian.
"Ad'ik"
Sonorous wasn't sure what to make of it - endearment? Condescension? Up until recently she had been an outsider to this extreme but fascinating warrior culture. She was young, yes, and more so in terms of any practical wisdom she may have had - in general, or concerning the Mandalorians. She had much to learn, and may as well have been an infant to those born and raised in this society. And yet, she would have to learn a childhood's worth of meaning in a tenth of the time if she wanted to survive, let alone be recognized for what she had become - Mandalorian, or at least, aesthetically. The weight of that title, the privilege and the burden it both carried with it, would become clearer over time.
The grassy plains of Dantooine were lush alright, but the rolling steppes and hills hid a stealthy brutality to their unforgiving terrain. Packs of Kath Hounds, raiders and even other Mandalorians thrived and hunted in these plains. As Sonorous' speedbike screamed across the grasslands and zeroed in on the coordinates, she could feel the speed-rush that it gave her. Her armor glistened and sparkled against the sun, and her weapons clinked and clanked as they rocked back and forth to the speedbike's own motion. It was an exhilerating sensation, sweet but finally cut short as she slowed down atop a mesa overlooking the occasional nearby settlement, and the endless rolling terrain of Dantooine.
A towering hulk of a Mandalorian male stood at the far end, standing proud and tall in his armor by his speedbike as he stoically awaited for the youth to arrive. His armor showed scarring - a great many battles, field engagements and skirmishes had surely been fought in it, and by now Sonorous' in-depth study of the Mandalorian ways had produced in her a genuine respect and admiration for this. As she alighted from her jumpspeeder and slowly walked towards the man, she couldn't help but feel a certain thrill in it all. His hands were so big they could probably crush her helmet in seconds. In her dark grey and red armor she approached the field marshal, now starting to display that mechanical but defiant strut that seemed to define the clans wherever they went, and finally stopped before him. "Su'cuy". A simple greeting, yet one she made sure was conveyed with utmost respect, yet not coming off as submissive. As she removed her helmet, her fire-red skin glowed in the midday sun, and her tchuntchin, her headtails, fell down across her expanded chest plating in her armor.
To be sure, her Manda'o sounded funny - like a translator droid rigidly reading textbook style versus a dynamic, malleable, organic speaker.
[member=Ordo"]
You wear our armor now, ad'ika. But remember, it's the clansman inside, and not the armor, that makes a Mandalorian.
"Ad'ik"
Sonorous wasn't sure what to make of it - endearment? Condescension? Up until recently she had been an outsider to this extreme but fascinating warrior culture. She was young, yes, and more so in terms of any practical wisdom she may have had - in general, or concerning the Mandalorians. She had much to learn, and may as well have been an infant to those born and raised in this society. And yet, she would have to learn a childhood's worth of meaning in a tenth of the time if she wanted to survive, let alone be recognized for what she had become - Mandalorian, or at least, aesthetically. The weight of that title, the privilege and the burden it both carried with it, would become clearer over time.
___________________________________________________________________________
The grassy plains of Dantooine were lush alright, but the rolling steppes and hills hid a stealthy brutality to their unforgiving terrain. Packs of Kath Hounds, raiders and even other Mandalorians thrived and hunted in these plains. As Sonorous' speedbike screamed across the grasslands and zeroed in on the coordinates, she could feel the speed-rush that it gave her. Her armor glistened and sparkled against the sun, and her weapons clinked and clanked as they rocked back and forth to the speedbike's own motion. It was an exhilerating sensation, sweet but finally cut short as she slowed down atop a mesa overlooking the occasional nearby settlement, and the endless rolling terrain of Dantooine.
A towering hulk of a Mandalorian male stood at the far end, standing proud and tall in his armor by his speedbike as he stoically awaited for the youth to arrive. His armor showed scarring - a great many battles, field engagements and skirmishes had surely been fought in it, and by now Sonorous' in-depth study of the Mandalorian ways had produced in her a genuine respect and admiration for this. As she alighted from her jumpspeeder and slowly walked towards the man, she couldn't help but feel a certain thrill in it all. His hands were so big they could probably crush her helmet in seconds. In her dark grey and red armor she approached the field marshal, now starting to display that mechanical but defiant strut that seemed to define the clans wherever they went, and finally stopped before him. "Su'cuy". A simple greeting, yet one she made sure was conveyed with utmost respect, yet not coming off as submissive. As she removed her helmet, her fire-red skin glowed in the midday sun, and her tchuntchin, her headtails, fell down across her expanded chest plating in her armor.
To be sure, her Manda'o sounded funny - like a translator droid rigidly reading textbook style versus a dynamic, malleable, organic speaker.
[member=Ordo"]