Heed The Call, Above All

[Pylon Zerga]

"You're kriffing kidding me, right?" Kara asked after a scoff and short chuckle, sitting back in the pilot seat of their small, nondescript freighter, her boots up on the control panel. She had been moving them through back channel warp paths, keeping them out of sight of any military patrols. It was a simple job for her, but require constant supervision, lest they hyper-jump into an asteroid. Pylon had left the piloting up to her, and had been attending to their various businesses on the Bounty Hunter Holonet. It was there he came across message addressed to the couple, personally, asking to 'come and discuss business'.

A message, signed by the moniker Haran Rekr.

"Ne shab rud'ni, di'kut! There's no way we got a message from Haran Rekr. Did you come up with this on your own?" Kara laughed again, staring her partner down with insulting disbelief. Pylon simply continued leaning on the archway into the cockpit, his arms casually crossed over his chest, remaining steadfast and stoic. The slightest smirk on his face showed the pride that he was clearly riding to a new level of high.

"I'm serious. It was her signature and everything. I already compared it with various other confirmed samples. It's either her, or a very convincing fake." He assured her casually, before reaching into a pocket on his kama, tossing a small datachip.

Kara caught it and plugged it into the datapad attached to her gauntlet eagerly, bringing up the message in question to verify it for herself. The holoprojector on her wrist sprung to life a ghostly blue image in front of her face, washing her silver hair in cyan light. Through the mix of transparent letters, Pylon watched as his wife's expression turned from utter disbelief, to shock and excitement, then back to disbelief.

"Nayc feirfeking ara! Vaabir gar kar'taylir tion'ad ibac cuyir?!" She cursed loudly, dropping her boots to the bulkhead and spinning in her chair excitedly. Pylon simply scoffed, rolling his singular eye before coming by to sit in the seat next to her, placing his own boots up on the control panel.

"Vaabir gar mureyca ni ti ibac uram? Yes, i know who that is. It's kinda hard not to know at this point, isn't it?" He scolded her, before leaning his head back and letting out a deep, low sigh. "Haran Rekr. The Hell Wolf. The name that Yasha Mantis went by...Before she became Mand'alor the Infernal. It's finally happened. We're being told to 'Answer the Mand'alor's call'... What a load of oisk..." he spat, groaning softly as he began punching in commands on the ship's control mantle.

They weren't far from planet Mandalore proper, and with a simple calculation change, they could arrive within a few hours. Which probably meant, within about a day, he would either be in the presence of the one true Leader of the Mandalorian Empire, or, more likely dead. Neither one of them had ever met Yasha in person, and Pylon had never even set foot on Mandalore. While they were both honor bound to answer her call, the circumstances begged many questions and concerns.

"You don't like it, do you?" Kara asked solemnly, already beginning to follow her husband's lead, programming the proper hyper jumps to reach their new destination. While the discussion would still be had, they both knew the decision would be the same: they had to go, or face exile.

"Of course I don't. Mantis has never shown us any interest, or Clan Rihka. We've never been called upon before, and as of late, we don't exactly have a reputation of 'playing nice with others'. Yasha is making serious ground as Mand'alore, and has enough banners under her flag already. I don't have the best reputation among vode and if it got out that I'm dar'jetii, what are the chances the Mand'alore is gonna be tickled by it? Put simply, I don't know if this is a job, recruitment, or execution."

With that, Kara let the silence hang in the air for a few minutes, before finally smirking and softly giggling to herself. "Maybe she just wants us over for caf and uj cake? Talk about kit and fashion advice. She and I will give each other make overs and braid your hair?" She teased. Pylon simply rolled his eye again and leaned back in his seat.

"Oh yeah? If that's the case, do you think it would be rude if we showed up with our kit and weapons?" He smirked back at her. Without even taking a breath, Kara shot back a devilishly sly grin, "I think it would be rude if we didn't show up with weapons, cyar'ika."

It was decided. They would answer their Mand'alore's call... And they would go, prepared for anything.


[member="Yasha Mantis"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

[member="Pylon Zerga"] and his riduur were known enough through the underworlds’ holdings, even moreso when their recent run in with [member="Keira Verd"] became known to Mand’alor the Infernal. While home from skirmishes and battle, and fallow from the tasks of overseeing reconstruction and terraforming,Yasha Mantis took it upon herself and her Clan to bring the lost Mandalorians home. The fissures and cracks of past generations and disagreements were weakening points in the whole. For Mandalore and the Mando’ade to survive the coming tribulations, the Infernal felt the dawning imperative of reunion and rejuvenation.

The nights would be long, shriek-hawks damning the children of Manda from resting easy in their beds. Hunters like Pylon and Kara were most and utterly welcome.

The Sundari Royal Palace’s throne room emanated with the diffused light of the Mandalorian sun. Mostly empty but for a massive round table fitted with equal chairs, and a gleaming throne of white and grey marble, the throne room echoed with the clank and chunk of boot and Beskar’gam.

Pylon and Kara were guided to the throne room by silent Mando’ade draped in the matte black armour of Clan Mantis’ Yalilyr Hunters, who remained by the blast doors.

Someone, in the absence of the Infernal during the Helan Campaign, has rebuilt the throne. Above the throne, a work of Mandalorian Cubism portrayed the scene of a young Yasha, the Hell Wolf, conquering the Netherworld itself. Murals of Mandalorian Imperial victories on Hela, Colla IV, Myrkr and Barataria lined the wall, in conjunction with banners of the Cataclysm and Civil War.

Beside the throne, a massive black gurlanin flicked his ears, tail flopping on the cool marble. [member="Ambrose Mantis"] raised his gargantuan head, sniffed the air and set his snout back down on his paws.

Upon the throne, coated in her Beskar’kandar, the wolf-helm upon her brow was the Infernal. At eight feet tall in her armour, the young woman was a perilous sight. Too tall to be human. Too lithe for the muscle-bound skeleton which bore her up.

“Kadika and Ka'ra Rihka. Enter and tell Mand’alor the Infernal of your travels. I have want of hearing tales of the outer reaches.” A booming alto emanated through the Wolf-helm in Mando’a, accented heavily with her Panathan first language. Draped against her parted thighs, the Rekr Karyatesa War Hammer rested weight down between her metal boots, between her elbows propped on her knees.

 

[Pylon Zerga]

Pylon and Kara were escorted promptly to the throne room upon landing in the city. They didn't even have time to gawk at the regal and spectacular sights and sky grasping architecture that made up the metropolis of the Sun Dari Palace. Which, really was a shame, considering Pylon was pretty sure he was about to have to either blow it all up, or die trying to fight their way out. His paranoia was in full force today, making him thankful for being able to wear his helmet.

Inside their inner electronic sanctums, Pylon and Kara continued to debate the reasoning for being called before The Infernal among a private, silent comm channel. Pylon's usual optimistic view on things was failing to surface, betraying just how uneasy the summons made him. "She's not going to kill you. She's Mand'alore! If she wanted us dead, she would have blasted us out of the atmosphere as soon as we tried to land, or used the Empire's fleet to capture us without a fight. You're being paranoid." Kara explained dismissively, striding ahead of her husband confidently. A few more long strides, and she almost passed the Mantis Yaliyr Hunter. Pylon groaned and increased his own pace, catching back up to his overly eager wife, and grabbing her by the elbow.

"Unless she wanted to kill me herself. Maybe I'm just the latest in a long string of conquests she want's to put on her wall with a shiny mantle. 'Here lies some Dar'Jetiise aruetii that thought he could play at being Mando'ade. I crushed his shiny armor into his chest, so I only have his pretty head' ". He spat back at her, slowing down his pace a bit to pull back from the black-clad Hunter.

"It IS such a pretty head."
"Don't mock me."
"Then stop being so mockable. Look, we're already here. We're armed to the teeth. Maybe she just want's tips on killing OTHER Dar'Jetiise ?"
"She smacked the Emperor of the Sith down with a heavy rock on a stick. I think she's fine."

Kara giggled lightly at this, picking up her pace again as they came to a large, ornate set of double doors. It was certainly a throne room if he had ever seen one. He heard a long, drawn out whistle from Kara's comm as she looked around at the open hall. "Say what you want about her...Yasha sure know's how to decorate." She mused, slowing her approach up to the throne. Pylon simply scoffed a little, making sure to keep his body still, to keep from altering anyone else that the couple contained to have a private conversation up to the very end. "You know, i was wanting to meet the Empress in a MORE cliche environment, but yeah, this works too."

At this Kara giggled once more before the two of them stood side by side in front of Yasha, or more accurately, Mand'alore the Infernal. The two definitely looked the part of Mandalorian Bounty hunters, both in their personalized armor. Kara's was a traditional set of Beskar'gam, colored a violent dark red, marred and deeply scorched from blaster fire and various battles, marked and lined with white and silver markings, adorned with various trinkets and jewelry that hung and jingled as she moved, giving her more the impression of a dancer than a warrior. Pylon's own armor was to be considered much more conservative, consisting of highly polished, smooth Ultrachrome plates that reflected any light that touched them from it's mirrored, silvery surface. A thick, flowing kama wrapped around his waist concealed the large arsenal he wore about his hips and legs, including his iightsabers, blasters, and various gadgets and tools he had mastered. The most prevalent and obvious of his weapons, he made no attempt to hide; a large and complex sword, fixed with a variety of glowing LEDs and switches and triggers, housed in a hard metal sheath along his back, attached to the back of his armor via magnaseals, and a long leather strap crossing his chest, loaded with sharp, glossy ultrachrome kunai. The pair made little attempt to hide their weapons, and stood there with pride in their armor...Although, neither were as impressive of Mand'alore the Infernal.

She lived up the name, that was for sure, a marvel of frightening beskar armor, towering over both Pylon and Kara by at least a foot or two from the massive wolf-stylized helmet she still donned. With booming command, “Pylon and Kara Zerga. Enter and tell Mand’alor the Infernal of your travels. I have want of hearing tales of the outer reaches.” The simplicity of her request baffled them both, forcing them to turn their heads slightly to match a silent exchange in their helmets. After a brief nod, they unfolded their arms from behind their backs, breaking the seals around the neck of their respective armor, removing their helmets to stare at their Leader with their own eyes.

Once the cool, fresh air hit Pylon's face, he let out a long sigh, breathing deeply one last time before speaking. His singular grey eye traced up Yasha's mighty hammer between her boots, to the terrifying visage of her wolf-style helm. 'Why couldn't she just wear a regular T-shaped visor helmet, like everyone else?' he wondered.

"Mand'alore the Infernal. You honor us with your hospitality and humility. Forgive us, for we are but lowly bounty hunters. Surely, you who has won battles and conquered Sith, has little interest in a pair of mercs trying to make their way through the galaxy? Surely The One True Leader has more important things to do then listen to us?" He replied, taking a slight bow. It was a diplomatic answer, of course. One that denied Mantis' request, and respectfully demanded to know why they were here. If Yasha wanted Pylon to be himself, she would have to meet him on equal ground...

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Two lost Mando’ade approached the Infernal’s throne armed in their beskar’gam and coated in weapons. They came in on the wind of talent and diligent business, stood as those who did not know their fate.

It was hard to tell, but the silence of their presence gave Yasha pause as she watched from the hidden vestiges of her beskar’kandar and buy’ce. Leaning forward, left elbow on the arm of her throne, Yasha’s wolf-helm shifted, the wolf’s head seemed full of its’ own life and robotic movement. The ruby-like ‘eyes’ of the beast bore down on [member="Pylon Zerga"] and Ka’ra with an unforgiving glare.

“There are no lowly within the vode of Manda’s children, Kadika. I have long spent my days within the Empire itself, as there are many tasks called upon of the Sole Ruler. In those moments, when my immediate tasks are done, I reach out to those who have yet to come to Manda’yaim, and wish to entreat equal to equal… for all who follow the Resol’nare and live a Mandalorian life become part of the same soul, do we not?

Why would I not wish to hear tell of the outer places I have yet to see with my own buy’ce? Why would I not wish to see those of my People, who were lost to us come home? There is nothing more important in a Mandalorian’s life than connecting to the vode. You are vode. You have been found worthy and wanting for nothing. Welcome, as all Manda’s ad’ike are welcome.

Besides… my tales are not… not pleasant to hear or recollect.” A haunted flicker to a strong voice. Within it, Pylon had an even greater answer. The pleasant sunlight dressing the throne room dimmed as sheets of reinforced metal shunted down from their containment units. [member="Ambrose Mantis"] raised his great snout, warbling a growl and low snap at the Mand'alor as she pressed the control on her beskar'gam. The wolf helm retreated from her face in spines, becoming vast feathers draping her shoulders like a shriek-hawk in roost, the wolf's head pressed against the back of her neck. Eyes unaccustomed to light blinked at the shadows, as low intensity illumination spheres glowed to life along the pillars lining the hall.

The Infernal was as she remained with her Aliit. A young and virile Epicanthix beauty, with black painted lips and raven hair plaited atop her head in a tight, yet noble crown braid. Her skin a pale olive, was flawless but for a few dainty freckles, if one got close enough to notice. Deeply harrowed amber eyes shone down upon Kadika and Ka'ra, from a frame which reached a natural height of 7'2". She moved as one possessed of a sense of survival and safety.

A young woman, burdened with leadership before her years caught up with the wisdom in her eyes.

 

[Pylon Zerga]

Pylon and Kara stood at attention with their arms folded behind their backs as they listened intently to their Mand'alore. Each word she spoke seemed to pull them deeper and deeper into the mechanical and amplified voice modulator coming from her beast styled helmet. While the octave was quite intimidating, the way she conducted herself and her choice of words filled them with feelings of acceptance and peace. It was like coming home, after all.

Pylon, however, wasn't as quick to put his blind faith and loyalty into Yasha and her newly formed Mandalorian Empire. In fact, the pair had made quite an effort for the past five years to avoid the Mandalorian collective, and their various leaders and wars. The past Mand'alores had each been a worse failure than the last, leading to planet wide genocide under Mandalore the Liberator, and the systematic hunting of Force Sensitives under Mandalore the Undying.

It was for that reason alone that he had hidden his true identity for so long, in order to keep from having to fight against the very Clan of people he was trying to be accepted as. He doubted that any Mandalore would come to accept an Ex-Jedi turned Mandalorian as a true vod. Yet, no other leader had ever requested Pylon or Kara personally like Yasha had. Was she truly interested in bringing him into the fold, where all of her predecessors would have had him killed?

There was only one way to find out.

Kara gave him a long, hard, warning stare as he looked back at her with his usual sly grin, her long silver hair softly swaying as she shook her head only once.

"Don't." She whispered.

Pylon only shrugged before turning his attention back to the colossal titan of a woman, who waved an unspoken order at her servants.

As the Palace servants closed the shutters over the windows, reducing the entire throne room to a dim, pale, amber light, a soft hush fell over the room. A soft, warning growl came out from the dark black canine creature at Yasha's side, suddenly alerting Pylon to it's presence. A Gurlanin. A rare and dangerous breed of Force Sensitive shapeshifters, able to completely disappear from sight, sound, even the Force itself. While he had heard rumors, Pylon had doubted that the Mand'alore truly had such powerful backing that even entire packs of Gurlanins were flocking under her banner. Until now, that is.

With the entire rooms full attention, Mand'alore the Infernal did something to shock even Pylon-- with a simple press of a button, the elaborate and terrifying viasage of her complex Wolf styled helmet seperated and folded down around her shoulders, draping like feathers on a wing, revealing a tall, slender, pale and beautiful woman with dark, piercing, almost luminescent eyes. While she still towered over both Pylon and Kara by almost a full meter, they both starred in wide eyed awe of Yasha's true beauty.

Something they both realized few had likely ever seen.

As if on cue, the soft clicking of boots on the hard palace floor heralded the approach of several other warriors, entering from a side entrance into the throne room. Four fully armored Mandalorians, each more intimidating and varied than the last entered, before following suit and removing their own helmets, revealing their faces. It was truly a sign of respect, for so many warriors to willfully reveal their faces before strangers. At least that courtesy was there. The one in green and black armor moved forward and took his place at Mantis' side, before welcoming the couple to Manda'yaim. After a brief moment, Pylon nodded to the man with as much respect as he could.

Kaine Australis, the Warmaster of the Mandalorian Empire. He had a hell of a reputation, and his raids upon the Silver Jedi Order were gathering quite a bit of attention, even out in the Outer Rim where the couple had been spending most of their time. He was one of the Silver Order's top most wanted, if Zerga recalled correctly. There was enough Mandalorian firepower to take out an entire Council of Jedi...

...Which made for a very confusing tone in the room, in Pylon's opinion. If he and Kara were truly asked to come here with good, peaceful intent, then why the need for so many trained warriors? Kaine and Yasha were clearly no strangers to combat, and had the home field advantage as it were. There was little need to bring in such overwhelming forces . Yet Pylon and Kara hadn't been asked to disarm, or given any reason to believe this was an elaborate trap. No, whese vode weren't here to fight them, but size the couple up.

It wasn't an ambush. It was an audition.

"Mand'alore, Yasha Mantis, you honor us with your hospitality and kind words...And such a wide and varied reception of our vode." Pylon spoke softly as he bowed at the waist lowly, in a high display of respect. Kara however, only grew wide eyed as she realized exactly where her foolish, mouthy husband was going. It was far too late, she realized, as he stood tall and proud, tilting his head slightly to the side to show off his wide, devilish smirk.

"You tell me your own stories aren't pleasant to hear, so allow me to tell you of my own! What stories would you like to hear? About our bounty hunts on various planets? How my wife and I avoided detection and summons for years, while different leaders rose and fell, to avoid fighting in the Civil and Cataclysm wars?" He let that last question sink in the room before continuing, taking one, soft, small step forward, getting just slightly closer to Yasha and her throne.

None needed a reminder on the destruction and devastation of the planet Mandalore, only a few years ago.

"Perhaps you'd like to know why this is the first time we have ever set foot on Manda'yaim? Why Clan Rihka has avoided all calls and summons from previous Mand'alores, yet we choose to answer yours?"

Pylon took one more step closer to the throne before looking up to stare Yasha in her ghostly glowing eyes, his own fierce determination evident on his stoic face.

"Or perhaps you want to hear about my past as a Jedi Shadow? The Sith I hunted and killed for them? Do you want to know how I gave my life, my body, my everything to them, and was only expected to give them more? How I chose to leave that life behind me, in search for my own path, where I could live my life how I wanted?...Because I have a feeling, you already knew all of that, didn't you?"


[member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Yasha Mantis"]