Faction Reclamation War: War Within | Mandalorian Enclave

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

War Within

A new power rises! The Mandalorian Enclave has been growing in power and rage. Vengeance drives the once unassuming safe haven of Mandalorians to rise in a bloody Crusade. Rishi, Kashyyk, and Rodia all have been brutally sacked by war hungry Mandalorian warriors; and the rest of the Galaxy turns to react.

While the Galactic Alliance Senate squabbles in a grand meeting to decide their course of action, another important meeting takes place as well. Not behind enemy lines, but within the heart of the Enclave itself.

Not all Mandalorians of the Enclave approve of this warpath. Some feel that the Enclave has gone too far. Some see their own kin as barbaric. Some feel that it simply is not the right path. One such individual, Gwyneira Krayt, daughter of Kranak Vizsla, not only is against the crusade, but wants to do something about it. A meeting has been called for in the Manda Square of Tor Valum's midtown center. In these memorial gardens, she hopes to rally a wise and thoughtful course of action for the loyal Enclave Mandalorians who hope to stay the hands of their more bloodthirsty brethren.
​

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

A hooded and cloaked woman, adorned in Mandalorian armor head to toe, stood in the grand gardens of Tor Valum. Looking up to the statues of three powerful, influential Mandalorian ancestors, Gwyneira Krayt sighed. She knew which side of this divide these three would be on... she knew her opinions on this were unpopular. The Enclave she had called home since her late teens was becoming more and more unrecognizable. The Enclave marched on in its dark crusade, and it only spelled disaster for all involved. Her Buir, her precious Buir, the Warmaster refused to listen to reason. And now, Rodia was suffering. The entire galaxy now knew they were a rising threat. How soon until her beautiful homeworld of Kestri burned for these crimes?

And her daughter...

Gwyn closed her eyes. A tear fell. Mevia was so deeply warped and wrapped up in this bloodthirsty madness. She was going to do terrible things - and she already had. Things she would never be able to take back. When, if, she woke up, would say be able to ever live with herself?

With a long, deep sigh, the Mandalorian turned and took several paces forward from the statues. Her cloak flowed as she stood as a speaker below the statues' shadows. In front of her, a crowd was beginning to gather. Even under the threat of her fellow vod hating her, she had called this meeting. She was... surprised... that she was not the only one. It gave her a glimmer of hope.

In these underground gardens, Gwyneira hoped that she could make a difference. Would they listen to her? Or would she be drowned out once again? The Karjr cleared her throat. Pulling the hood down from her buy'ce, she used her technology to augment her voice so the crowd would hear.

<<"I, Gwyneira Krayt, Clan Vizsla, thank you all for coming here today. We all know that the Enclave is radically changing, for the worse. But this is our home too! We should have as much of a say in this as they do. And so, I ask all of you...">>

She stretched out her arms, motioning to the crowd.

<<"Those of us against these crusades, for any reason. What are we going to do about this?">>

 

[Corbin Vasher]

Spoiler: EQUIPMENT

STARSHIP: Tra'tena SPEEDER: Burbr ARMOR: Burbr'Katya Mk II
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr - Gaan'sacitadr - Dueling Blades

Corbin had stopped by Kestri to visit the Forgemaster Halls and visit his family. As he was walking through the Manda Square, on his way to Vulcan Krayt 's bakery, he heard a fairly familiar voice, though he was more familiar with her Aura. Gwyneira Vizsla . He had at one time wanted to get to know her better, become actual friends. They seemed to have a similar love of engineering. But alas, time had not allowed it, and now Corbin seemed to be out of Time itself, younger than the people he had known. Too many trips to the Netherworld to train. So many of his brethren he'd missed out on getting to know properly. The thought really saddened him. He couldn't help feeling a little alone, outcast. He still had his family, but even they had thought he had died in the Nether. He still did what he could, when he wasn't busy. But he would never get back the time he had lost.

Gwyn was giving some kind of speech:

<<"I, Gwyneira Krayt, Clan Vizsla, thank you all for coming here today. We all know that the Enclave is radically changing, for the worse. But this is
out home too! We should have as much of a say in this as they do. And so, I ask all of you...">>

She stretched out her arms, motioning to the crowd.

<<"Those of us against these crusades, for any reason. What are we going to do about this?">>

So she has misgivings about it as well, Corbin thought to himself. He had been on Rishi. That had been an unfortunate incident, but it could be forgiven. He still wasn't too sure about Kashyyyk, but that wasn't an Enclave stance. Besides, no actual civilians had been harmed in either situation. But Corbin was not optimistic that it would stay that way. He pulsed his Force Signature ever so slightly, just enough that only Gwyn would notice it but nobody else. He wanted to get her attention. "I can say I have my doubts about it. Not about the idea. It has been a part of our culture since its inception. However, I do not know if now is the best time. I am a little concerned for some of our vode. They seem a little less like warriors and more like barbarians. I say this not as an insult, but out of concern. I am all for spreading our influence and showing the Galaxy how we truly can be, but I do not believe we are ready for that just yet. Many of us still have some learning to do. But I would like to know, dear sister, why you are against them. I would very much be willing to listen."

 

[Runi Kuryida]

WAR WITHIN

:: TOR KALUM, KESTRI​

Runi Kuryida slowly glided into the Manda Square in her customary black feather and beskar armor. The Speaker did not wear her helmet, nor were her features dark at the call of Gwyneira Krayt's suit for... another way. A light hand on a shoulder, a gentle pat on an arm, and the dark haired woman drifted through those that listened out of curiosity of a spectacle, because they wanted to figure out whether to take action, or if they agreed with the brief sentiments shared thus far. Her measured steps took her ever closer to where the center of attention stood.

Even whilst she drew closer to Gwyn, Runi stayed off to one side of platform she had claimed for herself. Some might take Runi's presence the wrong way -- in one way or another. It was not the Shaman's intent to discourage participation. Perhaps, as the crowd grew, she might share some thoughts with the Gwyn.

Corbin, however, had gotten there and chose to make his opinion known on the matters. What he said did not surprise Runi. She had not missed the man's spoken or unspoken thoughts. His forcing of matters before the League, for instance. He was yet young and did not understand Runi's decision at that time. That being so, Corbin's... clarification was of interest to Runi. He was not opposed to a Crusade so much as to how it was conducted. The Speaker held her peace still. It was still too early and there were sure to be many voices here in agreement or opposition.

:: Gwyneira Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Open​

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

​

​

​

​

​

Gwyneira Vizsla Runi Kuryida Corbin Vasher OPEN

"Nu Kyr'adyc​

Shi Taab'echaaj'la"

Not gone...
Merely marching far away.

The aging Vizsla repeated those words to herself, as she had done every month since the ill-fated Battle of Timbra Ott. She was knelt before another statue nearby, a simple pillar with an old funeral chant carved into the blackened stone, and these words at the very bottom as a reminder that they may meet again in The Manda. It was dedicated to single Mandalorian in particular, instead it was for all Mandalorians who had fallen or gone missing in their eternal hunt for glory- Those who could not be returned for the Kote Ky'ram...

Some days, it felt like the only reason she came to Kestri anymore. Always dressed in her old cloak and hood, never bothering to make herself known or speak with her fellow Mandalorian unless buying fuel or raw materials before retiring to her forge on Tatooine. Even the armor had stopped coming in. Only weapons these days, for the ever hungering beast that was The Crusade Eternal.

She was far from ignorant of the war's nature, just... disconnected from it's participants. To say that Aloy Vizsla felt her name was unpopular within the enclave she once called home- or at least among it's "Elite"- would have been an understatement. And yet, there she was, honoring her dead while waiting for a peculiar meeting passed down by whispers in the shadows where forgotten things like herself dwelled under the proverbial radar.

<<"I, Gwyneira Krayt, Clan Vizsla,

"Hmph" Now there was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. Her earliest memory of the fellow Vizsla was at some council meeting years ago. She thought her ignorant back then, another force sensitive come to plague Kestri with their fetid sorceries.

But that was a different time, and they were both different people.

Now the woman was not only matured, but braver than even the staunchest of crusaders to speak out against their foolish glory hounding.
Perhaps her father was right to take her in, to make her Vizsla. In a way she was proud to hear that name spoken with such pride- such life.

We all know that the Enclave is radically changing, for the worse. But this is
out home too! We should have as much of a say in this as they do. And so, I ask all of you...">>

<<"Those of us against these crusades, for any reason. What are we going to do about this?">>

Simple, and to the point. At least, for such a complicated issue. Gwyn would make enemies for this, she had no doubt about it. But if one was afraid to speak their mind in the face of such consequences, could they even be called Mando'ade? No, in her mind, This was the most Mandalorian thing to do.

"I can say I have my doubts about it. Not about the idea. It has been a part of our culture since its inception. However, I do not know if now is the best time. I am a little concerned for some of our vode. They seem a little less like warriors and more like barbarians.

Vasher was the first to address the speaker, being one of the few Kestrin voices she still recognized. And an Iron lord of her fleet, no less. Her of his own accord no doubt, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

Perhaps it was his presence- or simply grief rousing old sentiments- that drew her into the crowd. Hydraulics hissed and wailed as she passed through the crowd throughout the conversation, having to squeeze or even shoulder past her own people to make it through. But she did, appearing right beside Corbin Vasher to whom she nodded in respect.

"Vasher speaks the truth!" She boomed like an old laser cannon, The old commander's voice loud and firm still, even behind the electric distortion.

"Mandalore was born of The Crusade," With one step forward, She pointed right at the great statue of Mandalore the First.
"It is Our Way. It has been our way since the Taung still drew breath, and it will continue to be long after"

"It was the birth of our civilization. BUT- for eons- It has also been our downfall..."

"Why?"

She allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment, giving time for some to form an answer of their own, though hers would be the first.

"Because no one knows what we Crusade for..."

"What has the alliance done to earn our ire? What has Rishi, Kashyyyk and now even Rodia- so I'm told- done to earn our ire?!"

"What have they done, that The Empire OR The Sith have not?!"

She looked directly to Gwyneira Vizsla this time. Head bowed, either in grief or respect, cybernetic hand clenched hard enough to shatter bone if only something were laid in it's grasp.

"Because we are Mandalorians!" She shouted finally "THAT is why we Crusade. And that is why we must serve the interest of Mandalore- Not this petty Banditry!"

"Most of you are still too young to know what it was like... The Day the Sith took Mandalore from us... A few remember the mountains of bodies that now lay sealed in glass- derived from the very sands we once walked on. Thousands lay in every field, every stone, for the third time since the Age of Plague long ago..."

"Even still, few are old enough to remember when it was finally ours again. Like a few of the old guard, I bled on Mandalore's sand. As my father did before me, and his father before him"

"And then? Our Mand'alor brought The Crusade to our doorstep. We fought petty wars against nearby worlds- allowed ourselves to be blinded to The Sith in our own midst!"

"Those who perished, did so for nothing."

Aloy took a deep breath then, having spoken much for a nameless stranger in the crowd.

"I am Aloy of House Vizsla. Daimyo of The Black Fleet."

"And like those who came before you, I have sacrificed much in the name of Our Way. I will not let my daughter's death have been for nothing. And if the old gods let it be; I will not see yours sacrificed for the greed of others..."

"You ask what we must do?"

"We must remind them who brought us low! who put Mandalorians in chains! who ground their bodies and Beskar'gam into dust and glass. And who was sacrificed to bring The Enclave where it stands today..."

"We must fight The Empire, In all it's forms!"

"The Lords in shadow to our west! And the decedent remnants of the Order to our east. Our Vengeance is long overdue! But we will not find it in the core worlds..."

And with the clatter of that steel hand against her breastplate, The old Vizsla's speech ended. All she felt needed to be said, was said. Now it was in the hands of these new bloods and their mothers- Like Gwyn- to take heed and do what needed to be done.

​

​

​

​

 

[Vilaz Munin]

A L O R
TOR VALUM
Briika Munin | Aloy Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Gwyneira Vizsla | Runi Kuryida

​

For years, he had distanced himself from the Enclave and never ushered a word to the Mandalorians whom belong to this sect. He wished no ill will towards them, but could not associate with them due to the clash of ideals between his clan and said conglomerate of Mandalorians. They only saw themselves as mere mercenaries and protectors against crime syndicates which tainted the Outer Rim; Clan Munin, on the other hand, honored their ancient traditions as feared crusaders, bringing glory to themselves and to Mandalore. Cooperation between polarizing ideals was impossible and would only ignite bloodshed between the different Mandalorian ideals.

But a new fire sparked the old ways of Mandalore within the Enclave. Like a snake, they shed their old past only to grow a new future for themselves. One with worlds trembling at the cry of their Bes’uliiks. With such radical change, Clan Munin sent warriors to aid the Enclave with this new vision they sought and little by little did Vilaz meet the different warriors constituting its sects.

Of course, not all Mandalorians accepted the old ways and silently questioned this new mission of theirs. Until a meeting was a called and a daring Mandalorian spoke up against this crusade. The chieftain of Clan Munin waited for all to say their piece, before speaking out loudly.

“It surprises me that those of Clan Vizsla would protest against this crusade that has brought honor and glory to us all,” calling out the warriors of Clan Vizsla, his eyes glaring out to them and to Vasher.

“Do you not have pride in yourself and your heritage? It is the way of our ancestors which has been passed down to us now only to forsake it as mercenaries and protectors. Is that all we are? To fight for coin and protect the weak, and not honor our ancestors to take flight across the Galaxy and conquer all in the name of Mandalore?”

“Many of us now are returning back to our roots and the best you can do is insult them with this meeting? Denouncing them as mere barbarians and petty thieves? You only bear shame to yourselves and to your clans.”

 

[Romul Saxon]

A L O R​

Tag: Gwyneira Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Runi Kuryida | Aloy Vizsla | Vilaz Munin | Briika Munin

Manda Square had been named for the collective soul of the Mando'ade. The three Mandalorians who stood at its center -- Mand'alor the First, Canderous Ordo, and Jaster Mereel -- had been chosen deliberately for the different aspects of Mandalorian culture they displayed, but deliberately too had they been portrayed together. Together. That is what the Quartermaster had emphasized when she had drawn the plans for this space, a meeting that despite have happening close to four decades ago Romul remembered quite well.

If the Quartermaster had still been here, what would she have to say to her errant children? Romul asked himself that question every day.

But to see here and watch these Mandalorians bicker and banter with each other. . . it incensed him. He watched from the sidelines, though his presence and retinue of Clan Saxon warriors drew easily drew attention. The near-seven-foot Mandalorian giant was one of the most recognized figures in the Enclave, for both his victories and failures.

"Silence your tongue, Vizsla," the former Warmaster commanded. He knew of the former Alor of Clan Vizsla, but had not deigned to think that she would dare stoop this low. To think that once Vizsla and Saxon had shared house bonds? His successor to the title of Akaan'alor, was a warrior much more fit to lead that Clan than this pirate lowlife.

He raised his voice even further to address the throng of Mando'ade gathered. Among the Enclave, the words of Romul Saxon still carried weight and authority. "There are few among here who can attest to the crusades of old, who can remember a time before the Sith Genocide lay our people bare," he rumbled, nodding in respect towards the elder Munin who had spoken. "And most of you are woefully ignorant of the Second Mandalorian Excision that destroyed our homeworld. An act by Mandalorians."

"We stand here in Manda square, under the visages of our great forefathers. One a conquerer, one a preserver, one a reformer. But they were all Mandalorians. They knew that together, we stand. Divided, we fall." He turned to Krayt and Vasher. "Your concerns with the actions of few are legitimate. There are those among us who thirst for blood without honor. They are to be dealt with. But there are saboteurs and agents who would use your words of doubt to further seed division and discontent among our people."

"As for you," Romul said, turning once more to the honor-stricken Vizsla. "Do not come in here to poach honorable warriors to fight over your carrion. Do you dare accuse the Mandalorian Enclave of greed? Rich words from a self-proclaimed pirate lord, who forsook her people to lead her clan into a descent of crime. If you wish to atone for your sins and rejoin your people, then the Enclave will welcome you with open arms. But if you continue to try and poison the minds of warriors more honorable than you, you will only find the end of my blade," Romul promised darkly.

He drew his beskad, not to shed blood, but to point. Across the gardens, towards the opposite side of the square where a lone statue stood. Unlike the proud Mand'alors who stood tall, she had been carved kneeling, head bent in an action of humility and servitude. "I have known many leaders across my lifetime. I followed Mand'alors to sack the Core Worlds, to raze Dromund Kaas, and watched as their infighting, greed, and power-seeking ultimately lead to our downfall."

"Out of every single Mandalorian who rose and fall, only one lead not for power, to serve." The tip of his blade rested pointing at the statue of the Quartermaster. "She dedicated her entire life to rebuilding our people. The Quartermaster gained no glory, no wealth, no prestige, only death. And it is because of her that we stand here, today, amidst the rise of the new generation."

He lowered his beskad. "Some accuse us of warmongering; this is false. Rodia and Rishi were our territories our warriors fought to protect, for whom Mandalorian blood was shed. And their repayment? They rebelled. Negotiations were attempted and failed. There are only so many lines that can be crossed before authority must be asserted. The Galaxy has forgotten to respect our people. The Galaxy has forgotten to fear our people. It is time they remember."

"We seek war not with the Core, yet the Jedi have sought us out. If they wish for war, then we will meet them. We will meet them in their worlds. We will meet the remnants of the Empire who still cling to the ashes of our home. We will meet the resurgent Sith in the Outer Rim. The fire of the Mando'ade will spread everywhere, indiscriminately, if we stand together." He sheathed his blade. "Or divided, we shall fall."

 

[Fenn Stag]

What Fear Grips Hearts
Sons and Daughters Divided
War Looms Once More

WE NO LONGER FEAR THE NIGHT

​

It was a quiet walk to the area that they were in. Kestri was a lovely planet. In his left hand, Fenn carried his father's tomahawk in it's rightful place on his arm, and in his right hand- his fist was clenched, holding something. He loved Tor Valum, and it was an impressive display of Mandalorian resiliency. Artistry, engineering, strength. Beauty in strength.

There was no easy way to build something, no easy way to do something as monumental as reclaim a heritage, a way of life.

And yet, they had. Through blood, through fire and through effort greater than they had ever known.

Fenn entered the courtyard wearing his father's armor- Beskar'kandar in the ancient style, a mix of the two. His helm was layered with an armored hood, giving it a distinctive look. Preliat's armor was distinct, deadly, and the fact that Fenn now possessed it and not his brother, Thal Mantis - that was a sign of where the brother's allegiances lie.

Those touched by the force could feel him. Anger so deep that it burned like a fire. To those gifted to wield the force, Fenn was a furnace of hatred and anger- spread around him in great waves of heat.

He came as the red-headed Vizsla woman spoke. Then he heard the words from the leader of the Munin clan. There words echoed throughout the area, the onlookers one of many. He took a seat, his fist clenched. He turned his head towards Vilaz. When silence had overtaken after each member spoke. He was not a leader, but as a warrior undertaking the task of fighting the Crusade, he had much of a say as the Rally Masters and Field Marshals leading it.

Fenn even moved like Preliat, smoothly and quietly- like a predator.

"I have visited Mandalore- what remains of it. And I looked for the peace that those that oppose our crusade yearn for and beg for. I found the answer buried beneath feet of ash and dirt."

His right hand, clenched in a fist, cast outwards. Black ash rained over the courtyard from where he stood.

"The Jedi fear us. Rightfully so."

Fenn reached up to his helmet, removing it and looking towards the dissenters. His eyes, blue and hate-filled, looked at them. Fenn did not just want to wage a crusade. He wanted to burn half the galaxy out of revenge.

Anger.

Anger decades old swelled in him, as he took a pregnant pause, breathing deeply. The tension was growing in the room.

Perhaps it was his father's ghost in the armor he wore. Perhaps it was simply what they said- and who said it. Fenn fixed his hair, looking up to the statues of the great leaders of the past. What they had to go through. He looked down at the crushgaunt he wore, knowing full well what Preliat went through to serve his people- at least, attempted to.

His hand tightened into a fist as he turned back to face Gwyn and the Vizsla who had both spoken in such cowardly tones.

"The weak should fear the strong. The Mandalorian way is that of war. Not just the forge, or the pen, or the shipyard. We are not the ones to give bread and blankets to those in need. We are warriors. We are the ones that made the galaxy in such great fear that they still speak of our ancestors' battles. Years of strife wrought by the Jedi and Sith alike, and a sickness of peace have stricken the strength from our people like the worst of plagues. No more. The galaxy will tremble at the thought of crossing us once more. As they should."

Fenn walked back to his seat, setting his helmet down before turning back to the gathered Mandalorians.

"I have been asleep, drifting, for many years. I have missed much. But know this- wherever the Crusade goes, wherever the Enclave goes, I will follow. And I will fight and kill and burn whatever or whomever it takes to secure our people's future. And there are thousands more like me." He turned to look at each of the dissenters, sitting back down slowly.

"And so little of you all."

He nodded at Romul, his scowl returning to his face.

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Gwyneira Vizsla | Runi Kuryida | Corbin Vasher | Vilaz Munin | Aloy Vizsla | Romul Saxon | Fenn Stag | Open
GEAR: In Bio

THE BURNIN'​

A subjugation of Rodia.

He'd been part of the politics beforehand, which were unsuccessful. And Kranak Vizsla did the rest. And now, as Vren walked the streets of Tor Valum, the attack on Rodia was underway. The Guildmaster still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

As he passed Manda Square on his way back to the Karjr headquarters, a familiar voice was carried on the wind towards him. Gwyneira Vizsla was speaking. Immediately changing his course, he descended into the square where a crowd had gathered.

The veteran sighed.

There was too much anger. Too much zeal. The younger generation, the ones that haven't even seen war yet, were hungry for blood. They didn't know the horror that came with the honour. The nightmares. Seeing your kin die. The seasoned warriors spoke with a more wisdom when validating war.

Vren caught sight of Runi Kuryida where she stood almost to one side, watching the bickering in silence. He drifted his way over to her as Fenn Stag spoke. Crossing his arms as he came to a standstill next to the Speaker, the Karjr listened as the man he had managed to bring back to the Enclave safely from certain death spoke worrying words.

Vren's dark eyes glanced at Gwyn. He had known her for most of her life. She was virtually family, being the Foundling of two of the Karjr's closest friends. She had bled alongside them. Her worry for the direction they were going mirrored one part of his own. Yet the other part of him saw merit in what their old Akaan'alor Romul Saxon said. Vren stood on very grey ground where this direction was concerned.

But none of those present had given veiled threats to their brethren like Fenn just did.

"They need the Manda's guidance, Runi. All of them." Vren told her softly for the Speaker's ears only.

"Before we devolve into civil war."

 

[Rhys Swynol]

Appearance: Armoured
Tags: Gwyneira Vizsla | Runi Kuryida | Romul Saxon | Corbin Vasher | Vilaz Munin | Aloy Vizsla | Fenn Stag | Vren Rook

Rhys wandered into the square, there were statues of old Mandalorians, people that he was meant to revere but he knew nothing of them. Sure there were others who could tell what made them great, what made them worthy of being statues but those were stories, tales told that were twisted into mythical legends that he doubted held any truth to them any more. It was what others believed and followed but Rhys held a more indifference to them, they were the past and they held no views or guidance on the current Mandalorians.

But here they were, ranting around about whether the actions of some of the Enclave impacted the whole. It was trivial, if they started dictating what was the correct behaviours to have and what were inappropriate then how were they better than those they were meant to hate. Not that Rhys really cared who they fought with or against, he just wanted the thrill of war and battle. It was always exciting and tapped into his thrill seeking needs, nothing was more heart racing than a blaster nearly killing you. It also brought people closer together, from his experiences at least.

He was half paying attention, most if not everyone seemingly had a need to talk a lot. And he meant a lot, it was hard to keep track of it all but he heard a comment that was throwing jabs at piracy, which was not directed at him but Rhys was insulted. He led a life of piracy and loved it. "Piracy is just a way of punishing the rich, who seem to get away with a lot more than others." Rhys piped in, it was an odd point to jump in and ignored the whole issue of whether or not they should be going around razing worlds but that mattered less than pointing out his profession was just as noble as any other.

At least in his mind it was.

"And who cares what we do. Ranting on about it ain't changing anything. Either you lot start dictating what is the right and wrong ways to be Mandalorians and we become no better than those we hate, or we accept that we are diverse group who wish and want to behave differently." Rhys sighed, he was not thrilled with this as he had hoped. "Or we simply fight one another and the strongest of us dictates our ways. Cause that was how it used to be too." He pointed out, if they wanted to cry out that crusades were the old ways and the way they had always been, they were also ruled by the strongest, they had a Mandalore who told them how to be. Either they acknowledged they were doing things differently or did all their old ways.

Either way really didn't bother him.

 

[Briika Munin]

Tor Valum, Kestri, Wild Space
Manda Square
Rhys Swynol | Vren Rook | Romul Saxon | Aloy Vizsla | Runi Kuryida
Corbin Vasher | Gwyneira Vizsla
GEAR: See bio

WE_ARE_WARRIORS
​

Briika stood beside her husband, strong and proud, wearing her signature beskar'gam of silver with blood-red accents including a cape of the same color draped over one shoulder.

Rumors of the Shieldmaiden of Clan Munin's demise after Tython were just that. She was very much alive and ready for reckoning as crusading was the life and blood of the Mando'ade; especially in regard to their clan, born of the old ways and not the appeasement of the new it would appear.

The Baar'ur listened intently to each of the southern brethren speak their minds on the subject that had brought her and Vilaz Munin to the capital city of the Enclave Mandalorians. She and the Concordian warlord had been on the front lines of the crusade against the Galactic Republic and their feckless order of jetii, led by Mand'alor the Unyielding. It had been a glorious time to be a Mandalorian... that was until the Civil War and subsequent circumstances of the illegitimate throning of the next Sole Ruler, well from her perspective and that of many clans at the time.

But that was all water under the bridge as they say... or was it?

Clan Munin since then had been pretty much running independently from their strongholds in old Imperial space and the family homestead on Concord Dawn, though still keeping to the Tenets of the Resol'nare in their warrior's hearts. Well, except for the part about following the call of the Mand'alor. When a true one emerged, then they would act on that authority. Until then, their chieftain was their ruler.

<< "Good speech, cyar'ika, though it is as I expected just a bunch of MIN... ">> Bree began to express to the former Akaan over their encrypted comm channel with an affirming nod between them, then she stopped before finishing her thought as a Mando wearing an all too familiar suit of beskar-plated armor stood up and spoke.

<<" He looks and acts just like a younger Preliat Mantis , yes? How uncanny. I do miss the ol' wolf's tenacity, though I think he's in a much better place now with his loved ones who marched on before him. All those losses, his frustrations, and Ordo's death were driving him crazy by the end. Poor soul,">> she commented as her helmeted head looked over to Fenn Stag .

There was so much more the Tor-Munin could reminisce about of the earlier events in the Mando's life that shaped her into a mandokarla state of being ... but this was not the time nor place.

For now, Briika would remain silent and ever mindful unless her outward opinion was needed. And as Alor, Vilaz's words would stand for the clan's position on the matter at hand.

 

[Shakka Bralor]

Oops Wrong Account

 

[Araia Bralor]

Location:Kestri
Tag: Gwyneira Vizsla Corbin Vasher Runi Kuryida Aloy Vizsla Vilaz Munin Romul Saxon Fenn Stag Vren Rook Rhys Swynol Briika Munin
Song:Till my body’s dry


She listened to the words of so many elder Mandalorians around her, some seemed to be much more reasonable than others that seemed to bay for blood. In a loud voice that surprised even her she called out.

“Former Warmaster Saxon you accuse Lady Krayt of fomenting rebellion yet is it not our way as Mandalorians to live our beliefs? Our way has always been to be warriors but if we go back to being slaughterers will we not fall once more as has always happened? Surely there must be a way forward where so many innocents need not pay the price for us to live out our ways?”

She turned to look at Fenn Stag

“If the weak fear us then they will do what the weak always do. They will band together and become stronger in doing so and we will all fall once more. Such is the fate of all who have preached that only the strong matter in this galaxy. But if we take them in to help them become strong their strength joins with ours and we become stronger still. Is that not our way? We are a people amongst whom species, birth, finances, and origin matter little as long as we follow the basic tenets of being Mandalorian. Would you turn your back on that way to satiate your blood lust?”

​

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

​

​

​

​

​

“It surprises me that those of Clan Vizsla would protest against this crusade that has brought honor and glory to us all,”


"Do you not have pride in yourself and your heritage? It is the way of our ancestors which has been passed down to us now only to forsake it as mercenaries and protectors. Is that all we are? To fight for coin and protect the weak, and not honor our ancestors to take flight across the Galaxy and conquer all in the name of Mandalore?"

"Protesting our target," She corrected, unknowing of the fact that she was addressing Vilaz Munin , who's actions were indirectly related to the death of her birth clan, depending on one's point of view. Ironically enough, she would have been inclined towards the Munin way of thinking if only this were another day.

"Our heritage is exactly why we should be fighting The Empire! Regardless how one feels about the reign of Mand'alor the Infernal- to whom many of our clans suffered- Should we not be Crusading to avenge the betrayal that nearly saw us extinct?!"

"Burn the rest after if you truly must- But The Sith must be eradicated in kind. The Jedi Cowards will have their due, I'm sure, But finish off The Old War first?"

"I do not protest The Crusade in of itself, I only ask-"

"Silence your tongue, Vizsla,"

"Pff!" She merely leaned her head to one side, about to retort the challenge when Romul Saxon began to shout over her as if he had the authority to make orders. So much unity, she thought fear to speak one's mind is more slavery than unity.

And most of you are woefully ignorant of the Second Mandalorian Excision that destroyed our homeworld. An act by Mandalorians."

Her fist clenched inside her belt, the leather straining audibly to those around.

And where were you when we needed you most?
Is it not enough to sacrifice so many limbs on Mandalore,
Now you speak as if you even tried?
​

Perhaps she would returned to Kestri out of a sense for duty to her own kind, or merely to arm the new generations out of some courtesy. But now- Reminded that nothing would ever make her Mandalorian "enough" in their eyes- ? It made her sick. She had spent her entire life fighting other Mandalorians, and if she had to again, than so be it.

"As for you," Romul said, turning once more to the honor-stricken Vizsla. "Do not come in here to poach honorable warriors to fight over your carrion. Do you dare accuse the Mandalorian Enclave of greed? Rich words from a self-proclaimed pirate lord, who forsook her people to lead her clan into a descent of crime. If you wish to atone for your sins and rejoin your people, then the Enclave will welcome you with open arms. But if you continue to try and poison the minds of warriors more honorable than you, you will only find the end of my blade," Romul promised darkly.

"I have proclaimed nothing but my name!" She quickly snapped.

"Out of every single Mandalorian who rose and fall, only one lead not for power, to serve." The tip of his blade rested pointing at the statue of the Quartermaster. "She dedicated her entire life to rebuilding our people. The Quartermaster gained no glory, no wealth, no prestige, only death. And it is because of her that we stand here, today, amidst the rise of the new generation."

We will meet the remnants of the Empire who still cling to the ashes of our home. We will meet the resurgent Sith in the Outer Rim. The fire of the Mando'ade will spread everywhere, indiscriminately, if we stand together." He sheathed his blade. "Or divided, we shall fall."

Thoughts danced about her head like asteroids bouncing inside a shield. Shame that she wasn't enough to hold the union together, rage that no one was there to share the burden when she needed it most, shock at the accusations- envy that she had not joined the fallen then.

We will meet the resurgent Sith in the Outer Rim. The fire of the Mando'ade will spread everywhere, indiscriminately, if we stand together." He sheathed his blade. "Or divided, we shall fall."

His right hand, clenched in a fist, cast outwards. Black ash rained over the courtyard from where he stood.

"The Jedi fear us. Rightfully so."

Shut up...

shut up!​

The ashes now staining her helm and cloak were ignored in the face of it all, even as it seeped into the small Mir'shupur sigil on it's dome.

"And so little of you all."

How many?

Thousands...​

Bodies... millions...​

​

The Fleet. My fleet, How many?​

Will they be enough? where do I send you all- ​

"Piracy is just a way of punishing the rich, who seem to get away with a lot more than others."

Rhys Swynol brought some focus to the privateer's scattered mind. It brought her mission back to the forefront, The Fleet's True purpose- which united outcasts and broken Mando'ade from multiple clans- even Aruetii who believed in the Daimyo's cause- under a single banner.

Punishment...

They have to be punished. For Mandalore.

“Former Warmaster Saxon you accuse Lady Krayt of fomenting rebellion yet is it not our way as Mandalorians to live our beliefs?

"If the weak fear us then they will do what the weak always do. They will band together and become stronger in doing so and we will all fall once more. Such is the fate of all who have preached that only the strong matter in this galaxy. But if we take them in to help them become strong their strength joins with ours and we become stronger still. Is that not our way?

Araia Bralor 's words further anchored her mind towards that singular purpose. The purpose she had sacrificed everything for-

The purpose Tae'l Vizsla died for...

And then- Clarity.

A dark peace that only a warrior could know; That it didn't matter anymore. None of this would in the end.
She fought- still- for what she believed in. At the end of the day, what more was there for a Mandalorian?

"I've heard enough." She stated calmly, but loud enough for the crowd to hear.

Aloy stepped up, just below Gwyneira Vizsla . Not enough hijack the young woman's place as the speaker, but enough to address the challenge laid out by Romul Saxon .

Now, caked in the ashes of Mandalore, as if baptized in it's fire and her faith in that old cause renewed, She stood there before him without a care in the world.

"You are no Quartermaster. Neither are you our Mand'alor."

She placed a cybernetic hand on her hammer.

"You abandoned us in the war against Death Watch. I have no need for your permission to speak, nor redemption in your eyes. I reserve that for Kranak Vizsla , should he take up that mantle, and will return to The Crusade either on his summons or when it finally reaches The Sith"

A living, organic hand, is placed upon a Beskad of her own making.

"But let one thing be clear; I serve nor command no one, save those who have chosen this path. Whether I live or die for your grievences today, The Black Fleet will pursue it's purpose- It's only purpose: to destroy Mandalore's Enemy."

"We will hunt as we please, and call whomever "pack" as they please- With or without you. These are the Ideals that make us Warriors and Mandalorians, And Ideas cannot be killed.

That. Is. All."

And with that, she stepped down from statue's base, already preparing a meeting between her captains. Hungering for blood, but on her own terms.

​

​

​

​

 

[Koda Fett]

He ought to yawn in the face of the dramatics.

It seemed most others favoured their reasons to act, all in some purpose to accumulate separate causes, and instead sit idly with them. The Sith, the Imperials, the Jedi; so caught up in indecision of which foe to target that none of them find themselves fully honed in the crosshairs. The Mandalorian held no particular fondness for either group. Inaction poisoned them, unable to divert onto their own path.

"Let your strongest guide you," said often disinterested voice from beneath the sage armour, "the bickering will lead you round in circles; Vizsla, Saxon, whoever it be."

 

[Domina Prime]

​

This is gods plan someone stop me
Ain't to hard to find me
◈
Evil scriptures written on my body
Better use your manners when you talk about me

ALLIES
M A N D A L O R I A N S

Romul Saxon | Koda Fett | Gwyneira Vizsla | Aloy Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Araia Bralor | Fenn Stag | Briika Munin | Rhys Swynol | Runi Kuryida | Vren Rook | Vilaz Munin​

The future? The future was just the past put on infinite loop. The two were one and the same, even if people wanted to pretend otherwise. Everything moved in cycles, patterns. Dima was the cavegirl with no education and that much was painfully obvious.

Or at least thats how it all seemed to be playing out to the Prime. All over again, it felt almost as if she were watching a history itself playing on repeat again and again and again. Mandalorians whimpering and moaning about their honor, their pride and their stolen greatness only to disagree and split apart making their people that much weaker because thats just what humans do. Lost in their heads trying to decide what they were and who their enemies truly were. Drowning in their hearts because of their FEELINGS. Honestly Dima couldn't tell if she was attending a meeting or a therapy session.

Some wanted to believe themselves noble warriors, brave true and just like some kind of knight. Like some kind of JEDI~

The Domina rolled her eyes and groaned audibly, sitting herself down onto a nearby stoop in midtown before leaning back lazily and lifting her legs and kicking her feet up onto an elevated crate that happened to be laying around. Plucking a random selection of screws, nuts and bolts off of the table and piling them into one of her hands before just tossing them all out into the crowd of pacifist mandalorians.

"Boooooooo! FUCKING Laaaaaame, you sniveling little twats need to decide what you are. We are either the descendants of a warborn culture whose existence is defined by conflict and conquering or we are a bunch of metalheads with guns who can't decide what they are. So WHICH is it? You faeries wanna be a little goodie goodies then go sign up with the jedi yes? They love that shit~" She cackled out childishly, the bolts and screws bouncing off a couple helmets and chestplates of other Mandalorians as those she struck turned to give the four armed Prime a dangerous glare.

"Okokok FINE~" Dima exclaimed as the mandos she had chucked the harmless bits at gave her burning looks. "MAYBE some of you have a point. After all this one isn't so fond of killing the weak either its just so..." she thought for a moment before gesturing to her droid. "X9 what did Dima say before? It was not so many days ago we had this talk and this one said something clever~" She mused, the droid levitating by her side drifting forward a bit.

"If i recall you said it something like this" The droid proceeded to play a short recording of one of Primes latest rants. "'No no no ok, look, listen. Dima does NOT enjoy preying on the wee wee little ones ok? It's lame and they just cry and scream the whole time! It's an insult to the manda is what is is! No FUN no CHALLENGE and worst of all, no GLORY to brag to brothers and sisters! Preying on the STRONG however makes Dima feel so ALIVE! Like nothing can stop Dima ya know? And those who only hunt the weak are a bunch of sniveling wimps that couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag yet alone a Godborn champion~'" The droid finished the recording, causing those around Dima to stare in slight confusion.

"Ah yes see, there you are. Fucking poetry~" She nodded cheerfully, grinding her beskad dagger against her sharp claws as if she were filing or sharpening them. Grinning rather smugly as her tail flicked dangerously into the air.

Others seemed more focused. Merely wishing to target worthy opposition and to bring the fight directly to true enemies of The Manda.

Now that...was an idea that Dima could get behind. Grinding her claws together and watching as everyone made their grand arguments and attempted to each make their own valid points to convince and persuade others which quickly only devolved into threats between Romul and the Aloy among many others. Dima made a 'yikes' face, looking over at Gwyn who was trying to regain control of the meeting as Dima just shrugged innocently.

"This would all go so much easier if you all just had fun with this and learned to just 'enjoy' the one thing everyone in this fucking room was raised to do. So afraid to die, to lose...to fail. Its paralyzing so many of you and ya can't even see it. Can't feel the venom in your veins turning your spines to jelly~" He spoke aloud, her boisterous voice capable of carrying rather far as she took her beskad knife and pointed it along at Gwyn and others.

"Not wanting to rush things? To pick targets more carefully and avoid the boring slaughter of lesser beings? That all makes sense, should probably use our heads more than the helmets yes? Buuuuuuuuuut to the rest of you sniveling and whimpering as if conquest and conflict is now why we exist? You may as well just hang up the ancestral armor, lay down your arms and be at peace. Go run a fucking farm. Because some of us don't wan't peace...we wan't problems, always~" Domina finished, taking another screw and throwing it across the room to bounce off of another mandalorians helmet, evoking delighted, impish laughter as the Mando swung around and slammed their fist down, standing their full height and facing Dima angrily.

"WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE!?" The mando barked angrily.

"Why?" Dima echoed, filing her claws a bit more before examining them and blowing gently against them. "Because this one loves her brothers and sisters, even IF some of them are wee wees still trying to figure out who they even are Dima STILL wants to hear their voices. Because they are beautiful and deserve to be heard, even if this one ain't liking what shes hearing~" She explained before flicking her claws. "That and who the FUCK is gonna stop Dima huh? You?" Dima pointed her knife towards another mando who had glared at her before. "Fuckin...THEM? Hilarious." she taunted, picking up another bolt screw into her hand and holding it so obviously that quite a few mandalorians now had their eyes on Domina as if making sure she did not throw the next one at them.

"Are you out of your m-"

"Crazy? Probably. Dimas been called that a lot lately~" She cut him off, sliding her claws along her beskad hard enough to cause sparks to fly. "But 'crazy' don't mean Dima is wrong...does it, baby brother?" she cooed with a wink which caused the other mando she scowl but remain in his seat.

Good boy.

Who knew politics could be so fun. Apparently, Dima just needed things to throw at people to get their attention and that made speaking a lot easier.

​

 

[Romul Saxon]

A L O R​

Tag: Gwyneira Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Runi Kuryida | Aloy Vizsla | Vilaz Munin | Briika Munin | Fenn Stag | Vren Rook | Rhys Swynol | Araia Bralor | Koda Fett | Domina Prime

Romul had just finished preaching about the need for unity among the Mando'ade. But as the former Alor -- disgraced, in his eyes -- took the podium to call to question his honor, and by extension the honor of Clan Saxon, those thoughts were cast aside. A challenge demanded an answer, unity be damned.

Aloy stepped off the podium, making her way to leave the square. "The Empire is dead. You would have us fight against ghosts while the Jedi attack us with impunity? Or are you merely afraid to fight a breathing foe?" Romul stepped out from the side where he'd stood to block her path, flanked by Clan Saxon warriors on either side. The Alor towered over Aloy, and he stepped closer to stand only inches away from her, peering down at her through his helm. "You accuse me of abandoning my people?" He pressed on, rumbling "I fought in the crusades of old. I fought on Mandalore against the Sith. I led the bravest among us against the heretics of the Death's Hand over Tython and Rothana, fighting against those who would've continued the Sith's campaign of genocide against our people. And where were you, nayr?"

Romul lowered his voice into a growl. "Your speak of war against the Death Watch? A skirmish against that band of whelps, that is what you call war? If that is the case, then you know nothing of it. My apologies that I did not assist you while you played at war; I was living it." He rested a hand at his sheathed beskad. "Words are one thing, actions another. Lest you wish to back your accusations against the honor of my clan with steel, I suggest you scurry home, euk nayr, and pray I forget your disrespect."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

A L O R
TOR VALUM
Briika Munin | Aloy Vizsla | Romul Saxon | Runi Kuryida | Gwyneira Vizsla | Domina Prime | Koda Fett | Vren Rook | Corbin Vasher | Rhys Swynol

​

<“The man does remind me a bit of Preliat, but I am unfamiliar of him. I only know of Thal, but it has been years since I’ve last heard of him,”> he replied back to his beloved wife, commenting on Fenn Stag spreading ashes out to the public with his own monologue that aligned with those whom support the crusades.

"Let your strongest guide you," said often disinterested voice from beneath the sage armour, "the bickering will lead you round in circles; Vizsla, Saxon, whoever it be."

Surprised to see the infamous Bounty Hunter, though a welcome one. His words held truth. This was only becoming a debate like the halls of the Galactic Senate of the Alliance. Such was the cost of having different ideals within the Mandalorians, but Vilaz would not tolerate it.

“Fett is right,” and stepped out away from his wife and into the square, “we are not petty politicians to contest matters with words.” And his hand came to his beskad, unsheathing it with a whisper of Mandalorian Iron sounding off. “Like our ancestors, we resolve our differences in blood duels to spare us the time.”

“And you,” his blade pointing at Araia Bralor , “I will not play shepherd to foreigners. Duty does not demand us to tend to the weak and cater to their needs. We only look after our own, not to aruetiise.”

He looked at those who would oppose this righteous crusade of theirs that now ushered a new age for the Mandalorians. “Should any Mandalorian dare to speak and act out against this crusade, step out with courage and fight. If you think your will is the way, then surely the Manda will favor your steel against ours.”

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

​

​

​

​

​

​

ENGAGED: Romul Saxon || OTHER: CLOSED. || EQUIPMENT: In Bio

Aloy was about to join the edge of the crowd where she could pull up a holo-feed to The Recluse in orbit so that she could prepare them for the new war, now that Apollyon The Betrayer was finally dead and that old ghost ship safely in her hands.

But Romul had other plans...

In a way, she was almost glad he'd taken the bait. A challenge to his imaginary authority to mask that one simple statement: "I do not fear death". Romul may have hinted at a challenge, but Aloy issued an Invitation.

Lest you wish to back your accusations against the honor of my clan with steel, I suggest you scurry home, euk nayr, and pray I forget your disrespect."

"I spent thirteen years in that prison..." She began, not even bothering to look up from her wrist-pad.

"Kranak Vizsla... Stardust Solus'alor... Tahlah Vizsla...

I remember the faces, and names of everyone who lived because of my suffering. My duty... I have stacked more bodies than you have years, sacrificed more of myself than you ever could, and saved just as many. I was never meant to survive or see "Glory".

"So, Romul...?"

She looked up at the golden-clad giant, shoulders relaxed as her cloak was tossed aside in the cold Kestrin winds, Her crimson scarf- from which broken and burnt Sith Coins dangled like dragon's scales, fluttering behind her.

"From one "Warmaster" to another,

Fuck you."

With a scoff that was half amused and half disappointed- The Hammer was drawn within the death-grip of her Iron hand, followed immediately by her Beskad-Sabre in the right.

And as she held it aloft, taking three steps back as she shouted-

"Make Room!" It came to life with a sickening ✱crackle✱ and Fiery glow.

But of course, A Nite Owl always makes the first move. And thus, a pair of Paralysis darts were launched from her kneepad.

The Duel had begun.

​

​

​

​

 

[Romul Saxon]

A L O R​

Tag: Gwyneira Vizsla | Corbin Vasher | Runi Kuryida | Aloy Vizsla | Vilaz Munin | Briika Munin | Fenn Stag | Vren Rook | Rhys Swynol | Araia Bralor | Koda Fett | Domina Prime

Romul smiled wickedly underneath his helmet. Vizsla had been goaded to draw her arms; though his confrontation had left her with little choice. Either fight or lose all honor and status among her people. Very few would've chosen differently. Romul unsheathed his own beskad once more, holding it lightly away from his body, at the ready. He was content to let the nayr come to him.

Perhaps Vizsla hoped to catch him off-guard with her darts or hoped to quickly subdue him. Eyes that had spent decades training Mandalorian warriors saw the subtle flexing of the knee long before the rocket darts launched, but instead of evading he merely began to step forward. The darts launched, spiraling towards him as he took his first step, boots crunching against the rough-hewn gravel of the square.

The darts impacted his chest plate and bounced off harmlessly. "Amateur." Romul continued forward unfazed.

"You think to compare yourself to me?" He growled, growing tired of Vizsla's impudence. "You think to preach to me sacrifice? I rebuilt my clan after Mandalore's devastation. I fought among our blood when the Sith were at our door. I labored to rebuild the Mando'ade. To lead them into a brighter dawn." He once more drew to only several paces in front of Aloy, his beskad still held loosely pointing away. He inhaled audibly. "Your delusions. . . they tire me. Strike at me, Vizsla. End the games, the tricks, the blusters. You boast to know of death? Then come meet it."