Mandalorian Outpost - Dxun [ Aka'liit Location Thread ]

[Darth Metus]

D X U N​

Onderon Orbit, Japrael Sector​

We must crawl before we walk.

A new Genesis was beginning to take form among the children of Manda'yaim. The Aka'liit, Mandalorian Faithful, had carved out for themselves a foothold against the stagnation that had crippled their culture. In times long ancient, these structures once coordinated the greatest fighting force in history! Now, they would kindle the fire of the Mandalorian spirit. Now, they would be a place for the Aka'liit to call Home. At a glance, the famed Mandalorian Outpost was indeed a shadow of its former self. The jungles of Dxun had not been kind indeed. Overgrowth had claimed many of the structures, whilst the elements had reduced others to rusted ruins.

However, the Aka'liit salvaged and restored that which they could. It was not the most pretty assortment of buildings, but they were solid, stable, and now buzzing with a host of warriors.

L A Y O U T​

Amidst the vicious jungle, a quintet stands amongst ruin. Encircled are they by broken walls, reinforced by a fence of deathhttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Death_fence. Armed are they by automation: cannons of blaster and laser. Together, they defy the Blood Moon. As one, they protect the Aka'liit.

MO-1: Command Center - The Crown Jewel of the Outpost, located at its heart. As the largest structure, MO-1 is easily the most vital of the Outpost's structures. Housed within are the means to communicate with the Galaxy at large, conference rooms, a staging area, and even the Mand'alor's personal throne-away-from-home.

MO-2: Field Depot - Located directly beside MO-1, this structure houses everything a warrior could ever need. From weapons and ammunition to medkits or blankets. There is even a small forge, ready and able to create fresh beskar'gam!

MO-3: M&R (Mess & Rec) - While MO-1 is the heart of the Outpost, the M&R is a close contender. Here, the Aka'liit congregate for meals, engage in recreation, and train for the next engagement.

MO-4: Barracks - Located adjacent to the M&R are the facilities where all Aka'liit rest their heads. Pairs of individuals are given a single room, adorned with bunks, HoloNet connectivity, a restroom, and enough space to comfortably house one's belongings.

MO-5: Checkpoint - As the only physical means in/out of the Outpost, MO-5 is a fortified position. It is here that guests are first introduced to the Aka'liit, be it via the entry gate or the number of platforms set aside for shuttles. Here, a round-the-clock guard is posted - with one eye on the sky and the other on the jungle.

This is a location thread for the Aka'liit. Anyone who has business with the faction, or would like to interact with us, are welcome to do so here. Members are also welcome and encouraged to engage with one another here. This is a relaxation zone, enjoy!​

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Agenor Dyre"], [member="Amaya Verd"], [member="Anika Nygaard"], [member="Artemis Lux"], [member="Briika Tor"], [member="Butterfly"], [member="Cabur Aranar"], [member="Diana Veneris"], [member="Isamu Baelor"], [member="James Solaris"], [member="Kad Tor"], [member="Malok"], [member="Mór-rioghain"], [member="Mesh'la Dral"], [member="Odion Kryze"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Xander Carrick"], [member="Zeradias Mant"]

 

[Jagen Wren]

He had been laying there for at least five hours, never actually falling asleep. Around midnight, or whatever passed as midnight on Dxun, Jagen had laid down on his bunk in the barracks of the outpost hoping to rest for a while until he would train and go on another trek through the jungle to see what lie beyond thick bushes and canopy of trees. Sensing that this was futile, the mandalorian stood up; he snatched his helmet from a nearby shelf and equipped it as well as holstering his DT-29. Walking out, he stretched after laying in a rather hard-backed bunk.

Wren passed by several of his fellow vod, giving them a nod as he did so. He arrived at his destination, the mess, and entered with a small grin.

Hopefully the chow was good this time around.

 

[Eugen Aker]

Strictly speaking, the Onderonian noblewoman didn't consider herself much of a Mandalorian, but her house shared longstanding ties with them thanks to an intermixing between Onderon and the Mandalorian enclaves that still dotted Dxun, dating all the way back to the time of the original Crusades. In her case, she could trace her lineage back to Clan Priest.

She welcomed the newest influx of Mandalorians to Dxun, the Aka'liit, many within their ranks being high skilled laborers that could be a great benefit to the local economy. Onderon had been left to languish into irrelevancy under past leadership, and she looked to change that with much-needed reforms.

As Dxun's new inhabitants began to settle into an ancient outpost, she would send several shuttles their way, bearing supplies and engineers to help with refurbishment efforts. For her part, she would help to erect a dedicated air defense network for the outpost, which would include a shield generator, long-range sensor grid, and semi-fixed Auto-Ripper emplacements. That alone would suffice to stymie most aerial assaults until the Onderonian navy could respond.

Later, she herself would arrive on Dxun with a small delegation to introduce themselves and begin to speak about the future. As the Aka'liit sought a great revival of the Mando'ade, so did she for Onderon.

[member="Jagen Wren"] [member="The Faithful"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Deep down in his heart he knew Dxun wasn't his home unlike the Mandalorians' ancestors that fought in the Mandalorian Wars under the guidance and rule of Mandalore the Ultimate. This place was as much home as it was to the Neo-Crusaders as Mandalore was to their hearts. While the Munin did not feel the warmth and comfort aura that the ancient outpost gave out, he would adapt to it. After all, he was a Mandalorian and each and everyone of his kin had the skill to adapt to whatever situation they were in.

It was being Mandalorian after all. Adapt or perish, and they were all skilled enough to execute the former.

Within the internal structure of the outpost the Mand'alor was within the command center area of the building. Mandalorians of different clans, though few were the number of clans that followed the Faithful Ones, walked into different vectors as they were all busy with organizing and remodeling the interior of the base so that it felt alive and full of energy. For too long had it been shunned and ignored by the descendants of those that had built it. Too long had it been. And it would have a new purpose for its new inhabitants.

It might not be Mandalore, but we will adapt.

He will for the sake of his culture's future.

[member="Jagen Wren"] [member="Tyra Gozen"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

Time had been good to Artemis. Time had been good to them all. Dxun was not Mandalore . . . but it was beginning to feel like home. So much had happened since their ragtag caravan touched down on the Blood Moon: the violent encounter with the Drexl, the emotional reunion with their brethren on Concord Dawn, the joining of their hands to lift up the broken pieces of their mighty nation. So much had happened, yet so much remained to be done. Mandalore would not be rebuilt in a day.

But today, Artemis was fresh for the task. Rested and clean, the woman emerged from her barracks in a sweep of light and airy robes that allowed her skin to breathe in the oppressive jungle air, the crown of her long dark curls twisted away from her face. She was quite feminine and small without the heavy shell of her beskar'garm, but even in her armor's absence, the wicked curve of a beskad still hung at the cinch of her waist. It glinted and winked almost pleasantly in the waking sunlight. It was a lovely morning, and the encampment was bustling with activity.

"Lady Lux!" A little girl cried, nearly falling over her own feet as she bolted to Artemis, glueing herself to the woman's hip and tugging insistently at her long skirts. "My father says that more Mandalorian children will arrive soon—children my age! Is it true?"

Artemis laughed softly and smiled down at the girl, placing a tender hand on top of her wild mess of hair. "Yes, darling," She replied, her voice full of quiet warmth. "More children than you could ever hope to play with—more than you could count." The child let out a raucous cheer and scampered away as quickly as she had come. Artemis watched her go, and for a moment, she felt that her heart might burst. She was a strong woman, but still a woman. The children of Mandalore brought her the greatest joy, and now more than ever, the greatest hope for their future.

Artemis turned, setting out on the short walk to the command sector of the makeshift village. She smiled to [member="Jagen Wren"] as she passed him on his way to the M&R—she was planning to make a stop there later—but first, she emerged into the heart of command central. There she saw the Mand'alor himself, [member="Vilaz Munin"].

"My Lord," Artemis greeted respectfully, her eyes traveling from his face over to the Mandalorians hard at work around him. Another smile, softer and more subdued, tugged at the dimple in her cheek. The sight of so many different clansmen, working together, was more than just powerful—it was profound.

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="The Faithful"]​

 

[Ria Misrani]

Wanderer.

This is what one of Isley Verd's youngest had been, a wanderer. She knew only her father's name and his legacy, her mother spoke little of the man outside of this. Amaya hunted for coin that would take her to Dxun, where she had heard the calling, the Aka'liit. Mandalorian she knew of the history, of the culture but today she would do far more than simply know. She would be, Mandalorian and she would carry on the name of Clan Verd. The young girl looked no more than twenty-two perhaps younger wearing medium, bantha studded leather and on her back she bore an axe and a blade. The transported schunted forward, jerked back and inside Amaya kept still. She kept still her mind and her body her gauntlets were simple, her boots just as so. Hair braided and tied back. And her eyes were closed as she thought on the file she had read, the file on Isley Verd. It was all that she had of the man she called father, and it was her guide of what she could hope to achieve, hope to become.

Dxun.

She arrived by shuttle from transport, and as Amaya's boots hit the ground she felt nervous, scared even. These men and women might have some level of expectation from her. After all, she bore his name; Verd. Amaya took a moment before heading down the road to the check point. She stuck her blade into the ground and knelt down before it. "Father guide me on my path, may my feet be swift and my blade be true. May I honor your name and keep the clan strong." In the silent moment, Amaya with her eyes closed asked with an even quieter voice, "please, I don't want to disappoint you." Getting to her feet she took a hand to her eyes and wiped any tears that may have emerged. Grabbing her blade she sheathed it on her back, the girl looked up to the clouds over Dxun. Her only regret now, was never having met the man, never having met her own father. Her eyes drew their attention back toward the path, it would lead to where the Mandalorians would be. Where she could hope to bring honor to the name Verd, once more.

[member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="The Faithful"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | @All​

 

[Vilaz Munin]

He had heard of Artemis as the diplomatic warrior became friends with Vilaz's wife, Bree. It was a great thing to see the golden blonde reaching out to other warriors of their Faithful Mandalorian splinter cell. The reckoning of Mandalore took away many friends, colleagues, and importanly, the medic's parents. It was extremely difficult for her to recover from the cultural catastrophe, but ever since their daughter was born she was progressing on the road to heal her emotional wounds. Sure, the damage done wouldn't wash completely these scars away, but it was best to minimize them so that they couldn't harm a person's life psychologically.

"Artemis," Vilaz directed his attention to the Lux, in a polite tone that only the two could hear, "never call me 'My Lord' or any fancy titles like that. You may call me by my first name, Mand'alor, or sir."

He had his reasons of why, and they weren't in the sense of being dark and secretive. While he was the Sole Ruler of the Faithful Mandalorians, he was no greater or lesser than his comrades. He viewed all Mandalorians despite their background being equal to one another as they were all one. One for all, and all for one.

"Ever been to Dxun earlier in your life, Artemis?"

[member="Amaya Verd"] [member="Artemis Lux"] [member="Tyra Gozen"] [member="Jagen Wren"]

 

[Briika Munin]

Even [member="Vilaz Munin"] did not get special treatment amongst the Aka'liit as Briika made up the bottom bunk where the married couple had slept together on the twin-sized mattress in their assigned quarters. It wouldn't always be this way as she would be coming and going along with their infant daughter, living between their homestead on Concord Dawn and the Faithful's outpost on Dxun, or where ever she was needed most. But for now, coziness would be the way of things, yet the golden blonde didn't think Mand'alor minded too much... as least he hadn't last night or since their arrival.

Briika picked up Kayra from the portable crib in the room, kissed the dark blonde ik'aad's soft cheek, then slipped the baby girl into a birikad wearing a hooded protective outdoor onesie, adjusting the straps on the baby carrying harness so it was snug against her silver-colored chest plate. Just because she was a new mother, well not new as this was Bree's third living child and fourth altogether having lost one at birth, work and purpose did not end for a buir in the ranks of Mando'ade. It only added to it in the most honorable way.

Even though in the their culture, Mandalorian men and women were equal, it still fell upon the female to care more for the children in the early developmental period. Thus was the way of things and one didn't fuss about it either. The term Mandokarla meant having the 'right stuff', showing the guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue. Bree tried to be an example of that everyday. At least that was how she was raised on a farm in the foothills of Enceri to be.

The Baar'ur had a full day planned getting the outpost's infirmary in order now that the supplies had arrived. With the seasoned medic's fanny medpac in place, Ripper holstered, and buy'ce clipped to her utility belt, the Tor slipped on a strapped sachet that had baby essentials in it across her back, then was out the door to the barrack's exit nearby. From there she would cross over the courtyard to the Command Center where the outpost's small medical facility would be housed.

[member="Jagen Wren"] [member="Tyra Gozen"] [member="Artemis Lux"] [member="Amaya Verd"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

"Forgive me, my Lo--Vilaz."

Artemis smiled, catching the formal title before it rolled off her tongue. Although the woman was a warrior by birthright--as all Mandalorians were--she was still a diplomat by vocation. Her training as a child had included both the bellicose swinging of beskads and the art of elegant conversation, the latter of which had made her particularly well-suited for politics. There was no place for bureaucracy on the wilds of Dxun, however--not when each member of the Faithful played an intricate and equally important role in their shared survival.

"I've been here once before, when I was a very small girl," Artemis replied, her vivid green eyes panning out to the jungle beyond the command center, evoking her memory. "My father thought it would be wise to teach me how to hunt in the proper setting. I was a small, scrawny thing--perfect bait for Zakkegs." She laughed quietly, flickering her gaze back up to Vilaz. "I think I learned how to run more than I learned how to hunt during that visit."

Artemis paused, preparing to ask Vilaz if he had ever been to Dxun, but out of the corner of her eye, a glimmer at the entrance caught her attention. There was [member="Briika Tor"], flaxen hair glowing in the early morning sunlight, rosy-cheeked baby in tow. A wash of joy flooded Artemis at the sight of her friend, and her little girl.

"Bree," She greeted fondly. "And sweet Kayra. How are you?"

[member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Amaya Verd"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | [member="Jagen Wren"]​

 

[Jagen Wren]

Nobody knew who threw the first punch, but all they remember is that it escalated into an all-out brawl.

Jagen had been actually enjoying some of the chow he got at the Mess, when one of his bulkier brothers slammed into the table splattering his food all over the floor. Oh was he pissed, so much that he actually grabbed the man by the scruff and threw him into the table opposite of him. Jagen huffed as he looked around at the fighting that had already started to break out until he was met with a mouthful of fist, knocking him aside and causing him to taste his own blood for the first time in a few days.

Seconds passed and he was already up on his feet brawling and brawling, the whole of the Mess in one giant fight that most definitely could be heard outside with all of the crashing and yelling. "Your buir is a drexl!" Jagen roared when he headbutted another Mandalorian who tried to trip him.

Truly a warrior culture.

[member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Amaya Verd"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"]

 

[Kad Tor]

Kad was enjoying yet another drink. He pretty much kept to himself, despite the fact [member="Briika Tor"] was not thrilled with the way he had decided to drown his sorrows in the bottle. He still saw the faces of his family when he lay awake at night. Sleep didn't come like he wanted it to, and death seemed to escape his as well. With the exception of Briika and her offspring, every one of Kad's relations were dead. What reason was there to drink? What reason wasn't there to drink?

He had been there for some time nursing something while attempting eat his food, but his appetite also seemed to evade him. On the days he was hungry Kad would eat like a mythosaur to make up for the lack of food he was getting. His hope was that Briika would not catch on to his eating habits, or the lack of sleep. They were close, though more distant over the past few months. Kad had been the one to leave, and when he returned the news of his buire's death had pushed him over the edge once more. Just when he had thought he was in a good place, the Mando'ad found himself clinging to his goblet again.

No one would ever remember who threw the first punch, but Kad quickly found himself in it. The ruckus was more than he wanted to deal with, and after landing a decent jab on the offender's jaw, Kad found himself tossed into a table, thrown back, standing again only to be headbutted by a man who was now insulting his mother.

"She's dead you, di'kut," swinging swiftly for the man's jaw and hoping to follow that up by spearing the man into the table.

[member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Amaya Verd"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"]

 

[Briika Munin]

After entering the main lobby area of the Command Center, Briika's azure eyes spotted [member="Artemis Lux"] speaking with her husband, [member="Vilaz Munin"]. The warrior diplomat had become a good friend over the short time the Faithful had set up shop in the old Mandalorian outpost on the Blood Moon. The two women had bonded quickly as they had similar backstories; both having lost husbands and sons. Though for the seasoned medic, love had come again along with the precious bundle that she carried on the front of her person.

A warm smile was flashed to the brunette standing there as she walked up, and an even warmer one to her beloved. "I," Bree responded happily, then she pushed back the hood lovingly covering Kayra's dark blonde head. "We, are good today. And how are you, Artemis?" the Baar'ur asked though a loud ruckus drew her attention away from the discussion to the area of the mess hall across the way.

"That, that sounded like my brother....Oh what now?!" the golden blonde scowled as she turned to move in that direction. If [member="Kad Tor"] had started a fight and/or was drunk this early in the day, Briika had a good mind to kick his shebs herself.

[member="Jagen Wren"] [member="Amaya Verd"] [member="Tyra Gozen"]

 

[Saarenin Lok]

A soldier should not mourn the fallen, they should not allow themselves to become attached, they shouldn’t show any weakness… This used to be Saarenin’s mantra and he broke it. The man who had been born a soldier, been thrown into battles left and right since the age of thirteen. The one who was supposed to be infallible. All that had been shattered upon Saarenin joining the Mandalorians. He’d learned what family actually meant from them. While the Mandalorians and Spathi seemed similar on the surface there were many differences. Especially in terms of how they treated defeat in combat.

Hand rising to his chest Saarenin opened his hand to reveal a locket and as he popped it open it held a holoimage of his children and wife. Simply looking at them was more than enough to shatter Saarenin’s steel personality. Eyes softening the Mandalorian turned to face the wall ensuring that none of the others could see the tears that had begun to form. They’re gone… It’s all gone. Saarenin though remembering the attack on Mandalore. He hadn’t been there when the planet had been destroyed but he’d somehow felt it. Felt the individuals he held closest to himself die. Saarenin had denied the rumors till he saw the planet for himself. Such a thing wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Saarenin whispered knowing that there was no one close enough to pick up his words. Even then it was not soldier like to show such emotions. To show a weakness. No, he was a Mandalorian, and not only that but a Spathi. He would rise from this like he’d done everything else. Then one day he would avenge his family. Closing his eyes tightly Saarenin breathed in roughly shoving down all those emotions that had risen, shoving them deep down and back beneath the dam he sealed them.

Rising from his bunk stretching his body Saarenin was awarded with a series of sharp pops and clanks from the bones and metallic pins in his body that held him together. Dressed in a set of common fatigues he’d purchase Saarenin exited the barracks pass all the other Mandalorians who were able to actually sleep comfortable… How he envied them. Though not even a minute after exiting the barracks Saarenin found himself looking on at a fight between two other Mandalorians. Sighing the man thought about intervening, but instead simply crossed his arms to watch the show. “Anyone want to make a bet on this?”

[member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"]

 

[Zef Halo]

"500 chits on the black man." Agenor's voice rang through the leisure area of the Mandalorian Command Center. Not the best way to enter, really, for a man who was not a Mandalorian. Followed right behind him were his small-numbered crew. The crew of the Argo.

The captain wouldn't mind watching this barbaric tribesmen have a go at each other and certainly enjoyed the idea of gambling. It was one of the few bad things he had picked up during his years as a naval officer in the Galactic Republic Navy. Most of his crew sighed at his once again spontaneous action. They quickly dispersed around towards the bar area where they could get something to drink. They deserved it. A long day working on repairs was exhausting and nothing better than an ale to sate the thirst.

Dyre proceeded walking through the Mandalorian crowd halting besides the Mandalorian who was ready to gamble. He grasped something from his pocket and revealed it to the Mandalorian.

500 credit chits.

[member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | [member="Saarenin Lok"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

"I'm quite well, now that I've seen this darling." Artemis smiled down affectionately to the golden-haired infant, lifting a slender finger for the little one to grab hold in her tiny, dimpled fist. "Hello, katagine ik'aad (sweet baby)," She murmured, voice rhythmic and soft. "Are you letting your mother sleep?" The wee child gurgled exuberantly, and for a moment, Artemis remembered how her own son had babbled and chattered late into the night, during his first few months of life those many years ago. He would have been almost ten now, with her green eyes and his father's strong sword arm. Artemis had lost them both . . . she had lost everything, until the Faithful called. Briika, her newborn daughter, and all of the Aka'liit were her family now.

"She's beautiful, Bree," Artemis said, flickering the warmth of her gaze back up to her friend--until a sudden clamor arose from the nearby dining hall. All at once, Artemis straightened to attention and instinctively moved a hand to the beskad hanging at the curve of her hip, an almost feline sharpness replacing the softness in her eyes. Motherly to warrior in an instant. "I know that sound," She murmured, resolution filling the furrow of her brow and the full purse of her lips. "That bears all the hallmarks of a brawl."

With so many different bannermen, of so many different clans . . . it had been only a matter of time. The Lioness swept out of command central and swiftly followed the cacophony of slammed tables, flung fists, and raucous cheering, all the way to the source: [member="Jagen Wren"], [member="Kad Tor"], and friends. There was a twisted value to a brawl--it was entertainment, for diversion-starved men such as these--but only to a point. Artemis stood in the doorway, surveying the inglorious tumult as it ran its course, before her voice called out to the men like a call to arms.

"Enough!"

That was all. She would not rebuke them with her words; the emerald blaze of her eyes was sufficient as she stepped inside the hall. In particular, her attention shifted to Kad. She knew him through Bree and was well-acquainted with his story; the devastating loss of his family mirrored her own. Artemis knew why he drank.

"Enough," She repeated firmly, but her voice was gentler now. Her hands moved to grasp the back of Kad's shoulders and coax him away from the fray, hidden strength belying her small stature. "Save your strength. We need all of it."

[member="Agenor Dyre"] | [member="Saarenin Lok"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Amaya Verd"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | [member="The Faithful"]​

 

[Jagen Wren]

A punch hit Jagen square in the jaw, sending him wheeling. He caught himself on a table, his back turned to his opponent; "N'eparavu takisit!" He sincerely stated, emphasizing the last word while he grabbed a meal tray with food on it and swung it, smashing it into the face of his vod.

Just as he was about to throw another blow a woman he recognized, [member="Artemis Lux"], entered and yelled for them to end the relatively short-lived brawl. Jagen gazed through his swelling black eye at the crowd that has gathered around him, apparently they were the only ones still fighting when someone intervened.

The man raised a goblet of some alcoholic drink and relished in the burn and sting as the liquid brushed against a newly formed cut on his lip, where someone's gauntlet had scraped him just right.

"That ought to be it; 500 creds, pay up."

[member="Agenor Dyre"] | [member="Saarenin Lok"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Clouds overhead could not inform Amaya of the journey that laid ahead, as her boots beat the Dxun earth beneath their weight. She had made the trek on foot from the speeder hub, deciding it would be better and as she looked back on her tracks it was like looking back on the decision. As she approached the gates she could hear scuffling, she could hear the sounds of life. Mandalorian life, as it were - things her mother only ever whispered about.

At the gates, she was stopped something she knew would happen. "I am Amaya Verd, my fath-"

There was something in the way the guards stood, they had shifted their stance as they looked at one another. Whispers between the two as she was waved into the checkpoint. After a few minutes of checking her, "clan Verd?"

She could hear [member="Artemis Lux"] behind her, and the rumblings of [member="Jagen Wren"] and [member="Kad Tor"]. Her eyebrows quirked up and then she heard the man again, who cleared his throat, "Clan Verd?"

"Uh, I - yes, yes Clan Verd," she replied adjusting the strap that held her weapons. Clearing her throat she did her best 'warrior,' voice. "Yes I represent Clan Verd."

"We get it kid," was more or less the Mando'a that was replied back to her. "Go on through." One of them said in basic, and watched as she headed deeper into the camp. Adjusting her leather-type armor Amaya felt nervous and exhaled. She knew none of these people, she was only here because she had no where else to go. Mother had passed telling her only parts of what she wanted to know, what she needed to know. Surveying the area it looked like the Mandalorians were settling down in Dxun, honestly - she'd never really been on the world before.

She had spent most of her life between Taris and Nal Hutta. Amaya knew more about getting herself into trouble than out of it, shooting her mouth off at the hip, mother always said. As it was she saw the woman, beautiful as she was speaking to the two men - something about strength.

Observing, Amaya noted their heights and the shape of their forms. Carefully she approached the group, "'scuse me, excuse me. I am Amaya Verd, could any of you help me find Clan Verd?" Young and new, was an understatement.

[member="Agenor Dyre"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Saarenin Lok"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"] | [member="The Faithful"]​

 

[Deneve Verd]

She had received word from her younger sister Mo of the location and hastily made her way to Dxun. Eager to check up on the girl.

It wasn't long before her transport landed on Dxun, signaling that it was time for her to ready herself. Taking a deep breath, the young woman would disembark from the ship and make her way towards the area she knew would be the best place to find her sibling. Her footsteps were slow yet sure. She had spent enough time mourning her father. It was time to pick up the pieces and move on. He would of wanted that.

It was time, time she stopped moping. Her people needed her. Her family needed her. Even more so her clan needed her. Once there she would make her way inside, avoiding all else in search of something to drink. It was only when she was met with the ruckus before her that she would chuckle softly to herself.

Moving forward, she would head straight towards the group of people. Stopping before the group, she would give a polite nod towards the others gathered, her gaze drawn towards various people before once more settling on the group before her .


"Su'cuy ner vode, me'bana?"

[member="Artemis Lux"] |[member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Amaya Verd"] |[member="Jagen Wren"] |[member="Vilaz Munin"] |

 

[Strider Garon]

With in the command center Strider Garon had his kit spread out on open tables, his armor and weapons stripped and neatly placed in a ritual sense of order. Dxun was the demon moon, a planet by its own nature was designed to prey on the weak and unprepared. It was once said, shoot anything that moves and then shoot everything that did not just to be sure.... an antidote of survival on this planet. No wiser words could of been said about Dxun. So, as Strider kept an eye on the scanners and comms he used the downtime to make sure his gear was up to the task of his current environment. The heavy rains played rough with anything mechanical and metallic. Even the infamous beskar that could shrug of heavy ordnance had to pay respect to the Dxun elements.

He wasn't alone in the command center, though off to the side and out of the way, he could hear [member="Vilaz Munin"] the current Mand'alor and company. His old eyes would look up from his station, his eyes instinctively studying the familiar curves of [member="Briika Tor"], though he had to admit that it was not as familiar as he would like to been. He had no doubt, in his youth he would of been a strong contender, but now the once wife of Kable now belonged to Vilaz. He chuckled at the inner thought of her taste in men seemed to keep degrading.... maybe he will be on that list soon enough.

Strider sprayed gun oil into the barrel of his ancient EE-3 carbine, then used the bore brush to clean it out. A soldier of any caliber was only as good as his gear and one had to be meticulous at maintaining weapons, armor and the rest of his kit if he planned on living long. He had a shento cigar gripped between his lips and teeth. He would love to light it, but it would aggravate his damaged throat. So he continued at his task, chewing the shite out of the cigar.

He took his focus off the gorgeous Briika and looked upon the Mand'alor. Strider had served many in his time. He had been field marshal for as long as he could remember, the right hand to the mighty leaders. He had lead armies and conquered planets and helped forged the golden age of the mandalorians. He had died defending it....... He rubbed the large scar above his adam's apple where the Assassin's blade had plunged. His brother kept him the the true grip of death with carbonite. Keeping him on ice till he had the proper resources on hand to keep him alive. Looking around, though he was lost in time and angry with Garrus for the hijacking of a good death and ascension to the Manda, it was clear that he was still needed by his people. Their home destroyed, the people scattered amongst the stars and a once mighty empire of true warriors crumbled into history.

Strider continued to look at Vilaz, he remembered the days he was just a pup cutting his teeth in combat to impress the likes of the hound. Now there he was, leading what was left of the mando'ade. The old man did not know where he belonged in Vilaz' reign. Was Strider a threat to his rule, maybe an age ago. The mantle was heavy to bare, hours were long and career longevity was short. There was a time Strider was gunning for the position, thinking his own broad shoulders could handle it. That ended with a swift trust of a blade. Now what was he? An old battered warrior? his body littered with scars that read like a bible of violence. The truth was, he was a soldier of the mando'ade, loyal to the people and to the leader. Always will be.

He still drew breath, though painful and labored, there was still fight left in him. There were still mandalorians in the galaxy, scattered by destruction and betrayal.... there was still hope and a chance for them to rise once more like the greatness they once achieved in the past. One chapter may end, another begins.

 

[Saarenin Lok]

Perking up as he heard someone hop in on the bet, Saarenin turned on his heels to see another dark-skinned individual cross the mess hall. Eyes narrowing slightly Saarenin examined the newcomer. He hadn’t seen the man around the camp too much, but neither had Saarenin left his bunk more than necessary nor had he communicated with any of the other mandos more than a few words at most. The gentlemen was quite a bit older than Saarenin, not only that but slightly taller than the Hellyni. The edges of Saarenin’s mouth curved slightly in what could be considered a smile for the scarred man before nodding back to the fight. “Fine, 500 on the blonde.”

Reaching into his own pocket and drawing a credit chip out of his own pocket the Hellyni waved it before moving back to watch the fight. The fight continued on with trays of food being flung haphazardly, fists flying, and the grunts of battle filling the Mess Hall. For the most part Saarenin looked on this as a form of bonding. It wasn’t all that rare for the Spathi to gather up and do such trials of combat to simply cure the boredom though this was somewhat different. There didn’t seem to be enjoyment in this, no this was anger, this was a fight just to sate one’s own need. Where was the line drawn? It wasn’t for Saarenin to decide but it was obvious someone else had.

The fight came to an almost immediate halt as Artemis Lux entered the Mess. The fire in her eyes, the strength in her voice. It was something Saarenin had only seen from the woman of Spathi. It was impressive that Artemis commanded such a respect from the men, and as such Saarenin stepped away and near the one who had officially won the bet. “It wasn’t worth the credits but here. Ended far too soon, but alas you win.”

Preparing to break apart like the rest of the onlookers Saarenin caught notice of a young individual who had approached the group asking about clan Verd. Who didn’t know clan Verd? Depending on who you asked the Verd’s were either famous or infamous. However, wherever they were in this camp. Saarenin had no clue. With a shrug of his shoulders the Hellyni looked back to Jagen. “How about we get this man another drink though for his victory?”

[member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Kad Tor"] | [member="Jagen Wren"] | [member="Artemis Lux"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Tyra Gozen"]