Reap and Sow

[Alkor Centaris]

Ashen and desolate accurately described the igneous plains of Mandalore. Settlements once dotted the landscape every few kilometers, but what remained were few and far between, and efforts to rejuvenate the world were confined to river valleys and places where lava had not scortched the earth. It took years to recover from a catastrophe of that magnitude; where Keldabe stood, though, remained a last bastion of defiance. Though most structures had burned away or melted nearly to rubble, the beskar frame of the Oyu'baat tapcaf endured.

Traditionally, the notorious watering hole served as a meetingplace for all Mandalorians from across the galaxy. It was in those halls where Mand'alor called together the people, and where he directed them to war.

In peace times, it still got pretty rowdy.

These somber conditions lightened the crowd considerably, but those who manned the restaurant and bar kept vigil over their broken planet, vowing never to close their doors until the day they died. The vigilance and willpower as a culture was legendary, and they wanted to keep that spirit alive.

So, from where Alkor sat and sipped his Tihaar- god awful, strong drink that could fell a Mythosaur in minutes, given the opportunity- the chance to see how they interacted casually was one he could not pass up. This could give him clues on what Isley had meant, or what Keira expected.

The sight of a barely provoked fistfight came as a surprise, however. "That all you got, bur'cya?" the first man spat out a gobbet of blood and a tooth, which his toothy grin revealed the original placement for. "I feel like I've got about ten rounds left in me."

Alkor knew that Ticon had a fetish for fighting, but the idea that it extended this far seemed almost unlikely. He sipped at the beverage slowly, still unused to the bizarre flavor. It was an ale, certainly, but there was more to it than hops and malt. Something else, something he'd never quite tasted before.

It was enough to make him sip more.

The two men traded blows, and haughty laughter boomed all around. Instead of trying to break them up, men placed bets and cheered raucously. They were all friends, even the pair beating the piss out of each other.

He leaned forward and folded his hands, his elbows resting on the bar.

[member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

 

[ToKola Bakari]

For the past four days Zaz and his men had been running supply runs from Mandalore to Concord Dawn. In efforts to salvage whatever could be recovered from the destructive waste that was once his home. He chuckled slightly at the thought of one of the few structures left standing was Oyu'baat. A tapcaf that has survived hundreds of years of war and destruction. After securing rooms for him and his men he released them to their own devices, whether it be drinking, women, or fighting they were opened to it. So long as they were prepared to depart tomorrow evening.

Zaz too would partake in a bit of unwinding, though his peace would be found in the bottom of a glass, for this he made his way to the bar. It wasn't an overly lively day for Oyu'baat, though that was not saying much. Even on it's least eventful days it was packed with warriors from all clans coming to enjoy the oasis.

He parted the curtain that led to the bar area, immediately he took interest in the fighting that had erupted within the confines of the bar. "Nayc taap guuror yaim." He stated with a smirk before making his way to the bar. Mandalorians, by nature were a rowdy bunch who enjoyed playing as hard as they worked, the cheers of celebration from the fight were evidence of this.

Taking a seat at the bar he found himself next to a brother, pale of skin with hair slightly darker than Zaz's. The bartender, a man with grizzled features and a sour expression, approached him with a questioning look.

"Menkooro and a cigarra." The bartender nodded before digging under a bar, setting an ash tray, a cigarra, and a lighter in front of Zaz. He turned back to the bar to prepare the man's drink, humming to himself as he did.

While awaiting his drink Zaz lit the tip of the cigarra, taking a few short puffs before it finally caught to a full light.
[member="Alkor Centaris"]


Mandoa*
"Nayc taap guuror yaim."- "No place like home."