Private Hey, about those TPS reports...

[Ijaat Mereel]

Ijaat had been at the Oyubaat for a few hours. Most didn't know his face, because he had set it up that way. Plus, with non descript armor that barely fit, he looked like any of hundreds of the diaspora coming home to pay homage to Manda'yaim. But he had a mission this time. He was waiting on Arla Rodarch . He had a bottle of cheap tihaar, and two steaming bowls of tingilaar sat before him. The bouncer knew him, and had instructions to send her to him when she arrived, and she had been messaged by a 'friend' to come here around this time for a drink and to catch up. And so. the Manda'lor waited on his bodyguard, the intent to get to know the one responsible for keeping his shebs alive. Not as a warrior, but to know her better as a person.

 

[Arla Rodarch]

Arla was entering Oyu'baat when the bouncer pointer her to a Mando waiting for her. She didn't recognize the armour, and was intrigued. She approached to inquire as to what the mando wanted. Arla considered phrasing her question in rodian or huttese, but discarded those along with Mando'a and went for galactic basic instead.

"You want to talk with me, neighbor?"

Not unkindly, that would come if this one was wasting her time. She'd at least give respect until that point. Her time these days only got more valuable as the duties of Journeyman Protector and mother to two teens pressed upon her.

Ijaat Mereel

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Reaching up, Ijaat removed his helm and sat it on the table quietly, uncorking the bottle of his homemade tihaar and began pouring two glasses straight as he gestured for her to sit. Call it providence, a guess, or whatever, but there was already two steaming bowls of tingilaar waiting.

"How about, for once, we both set aside titles and duty, and just... Talk... It occurs you swore your life to me, and beyond those bonds and your capabilities and loyalty as my protector, I barely know who you are. And that's my fault."

Sliding the glass across to where she was gestured to sit, he nodded to it and the open chair.

"So, I guess I'll start... Decades ago I was a family man. A simple blacksmith and even did a bit of farming. Handn't worn my armor in years, and was worried i'd grow too much sideways for it to fit. An unknown scion of Mereel, member of clan Akun. My uncle, the Sith Lord Reverance kidnapped my wife and children as a jab at my father, and sold them into slavery separately. The wife, I might add, was an Adumarian princess and expert swordswoman who once cut a younger self of me's ponytail off with a blastsword. To woo her I traveled to over a dozen planets studying the blade and philosophy and metallurgy, and made her father than finest sword he;d ever held. A beauty, red-haired lass named Aerin. Green eyes. Temper like the fire on her head though. We had twin boys, Darius and Marius. They took after me, unfortunately. Marius was shaping up to be a fine soldier, and was set to be fostered with Clan Fett to train, in honor of ancient family bonds. Darius was more gentle, and showed a gift for plants and medicine like his mother... when they were taken, I descended into blood and madness for near twenty years. I killed thousands, and that's no exaggeration. Eventually, I settled on Mandalore and became a barkeep, until Azrael and others like the Betna's and such came calling... I put on the armor once again, and became a Protector..."

Arla Rodarch