Carbon
CT-00001
Emberli wasn't a speechgiver. He'd never been a speechgiver. So, when the Mand'alor spoke to his people, it was usually just a summons sent out in word form through the holonet. While fully capable of getting in front of large crowds and making a lengthy motivational verbal wall of speech, it didn't jive well with his reserved personality and personal nature.
Thus it was that when he'd sent out his latest call to the Mandalorians to rally, it was through the holonet and the message was the same as ever. Mand'alor calls you home. That was, truthfully, one of the only complaints some Mandalorians had of their leader - he wasn't loud and boisterous. Others found that a rather redeeming quality.
Here, on the world of Mandalore, the Sole Ruler of the Mando'ade stood on a hill overlooking Keldabe and its patchwork assortment of buildings. Behind him, a banner fluttered in the breeze coming off the river. It was a banner several millenia old and preserved in a stasis field until such a time as it would be used again. It was found in the same group of treasure as the golden mask that Emberli now sported - the mask of Mandalore.
But, for all of his hate of giving speeches, Emberli knew when they were called for; this was likely one of those times. So, once he'd been informed that most of his people had made their way back to their home planets of the Mandalorian system and those of neighboring ones. Around him stood the varied leaders of the Mandalorian clans, dressed in yellow armor that had been refashioned to give the appearance of the Neo-Crusader suits of old.
Arrayed around him were a few holocameras and recorders for this broadcast to his people, one that would shape their future.
Speaking, as he should (in Mando'a) Emberli began, "Brothers, Sisters. The time has come for us to stop being greedy guns for hire. The galaxy respects us... but they no longer fear us. Our reputation wanes as we waste away our years to make our bank accounts large. We've lost sight of the ideals of our ancestors of whom we know to never forget. We stopped walking the path of a warrior and walked that of the mercenary, something wholly different. It seems as though we seek to avoid our past, instead of embracing it.
For the past four years that I've been your Sole Ruler, I've been commissioning War Forges to churn out armor and weapons for the coming crusades. So, my family, I have very little I wish you to do. But, what I want is very important; collect your weapons, your armor and your assignments from the Field Marshals and Rally Masters - look for the ones in Gold and Red - and await further orders. The time will come, very soon, where we will take back our place in this galaxy. But first we must prepare. Train yourselves until you cannot go any further, and then, like a true Mandalorian, push beyond that. Sharpen your mind. Learn new strategies and tactics.
No longer will we waste away into old age - we will once more yearn to die young and in battle, furthering the honor of your clan and family. Every day is a good day for someone else to die; we'll show the galaxy that no longer will we be their lackeys that they can pay to do whatever they wish us to. We fight for ourselves now, and no one else."
Behind him, the Field Marshals began screaming his title, and the lights for the holocameras and recorders went off. The rallying cry had gone out, the message had been sent, and Mandalore began walking down the hill towards the city to make sure preparations would begin as soon as possible. The yellow armored Field Marshals ran ahead of him to usher people around, and he himself would be in the thick of it. After all, in Mandalorian society, you were expected to be one of the grunts no matter your rank.
Thus it was that when he'd sent out his latest call to the Mandalorians to rally, it was through the holonet and the message was the same as ever. Mand'alor calls you home. That was, truthfully, one of the only complaints some Mandalorians had of their leader - he wasn't loud and boisterous. Others found that a rather redeeming quality.
Here, on the world of Mandalore, the Sole Ruler of the Mando'ade stood on a hill overlooking Keldabe and its patchwork assortment of buildings. Behind him, a banner fluttered in the breeze coming off the river. It was a banner several millenia old and preserved in a stasis field until such a time as it would be used again. It was found in the same group of treasure as the golden mask that Emberli now sported - the mask of Mandalore.
But, for all of his hate of giving speeches, Emberli knew when they were called for; this was likely one of those times. So, once he'd been informed that most of his people had made their way back to their home planets of the Mandalorian system and those of neighboring ones. Around him stood the varied leaders of the Mandalorian clans, dressed in yellow armor that had been refashioned to give the appearance of the Neo-Crusader suits of old.
Arrayed around him were a few holocameras and recorders for this broadcast to his people, one that would shape their future.
Speaking, as he should (in Mando'a) Emberli began, "Brothers, Sisters. The time has come for us to stop being greedy guns for hire. The galaxy respects us... but they no longer fear us. Our reputation wanes as we waste away our years to make our bank accounts large. We've lost sight of the ideals of our ancestors of whom we know to never forget. We stopped walking the path of a warrior and walked that of the mercenary, something wholly different. It seems as though we seek to avoid our past, instead of embracing it.
For the past four years that I've been your Sole Ruler, I've been commissioning War Forges to churn out armor and weapons for the coming crusades. So, my family, I have very little I wish you to do. But, what I want is very important; collect your weapons, your armor and your assignments from the Field Marshals and Rally Masters - look for the ones in Gold and Red - and await further orders. The time will come, very soon, where we will take back our place in this galaxy. But first we must prepare. Train yourselves until you cannot go any further, and then, like a true Mandalorian, push beyond that. Sharpen your mind. Learn new strategies and tactics.
No longer will we waste away into old age - we will once more yearn to die young and in battle, furthering the honor of your clan and family. Every day is a good day for someone else to die; we'll show the galaxy that no longer will we be their lackeys that they can pay to do whatever they wish us to. We fight for ourselves now, and no one else."
Behind him, the Field Marshals began screaming his title, and the lights for the holocameras and recorders went off. The rallying cry had gone out, the message had been sent, and Mandalore began walking down the hill towards the city to make sure preparations would begin as soon as possible. The yellow armored Field Marshals ran ahead of him to usher people around, and he himself would be in the thick of it. After all, in Mandalorian society, you were expected to be one of the grunts no matter your rank.