Patient as the day is long - or perhaps caught up further in his thoughts on the events of the hall; whatever the reason for Azrael's stoic stance remained unknown. There was certainly a whirlwind of activity coursing through the ancient structure as the sound of battle, strife and metal rang in every direction. Shadows danced from the firelight as the muted shapes of darkness rose along the walls and columns growing meters larger than the figures casting the torch-light. They painted a bleak mural of war and battle as it raged between the paired off vode still vying for triumph against their peer in heated combat. Blades slung in deathly expertise, clashing against each other and letting off sparks from the impact, while on the other hand, the grappling strength and tactical prowess of the brothers came in stark contrast to the women. In the midst of them, observing them in silence the Field Marshal only turned his visor's gaze back and forth to track the details and movements of the fight. Standing just as still and silent as the grave, the E'tad Kal rested at his side, with the aft pressed to the floor while in glaive position - his bionic digits wrapped fast around the staff. Neither contender conceding, neither giving an inch - a testament to the power and might of the united clans.
Were they really so united though? In the space of a month, they'd seen devastating loss beckon at their door with the pale ghost of death. The clans were unsettled, restless and separating from each other. Anger burned, tempers flared, and uncertainty lay within the hearts and minds of those gathered, and even those not present. There were questions to be asked, plans that each and every vode worthy of their salt were asking inwardly. When would they show their strength and prove their might to take down those that dare stand against the culture? Despite the opinions of some, this contest was a long held tradition, something that while it was not elegant or clean, it was necessary for the vode to test themselves. There was no greater honor for a Mandalorian than to become Mand'alor - but it wasn't about glory, or prestige - especially in the current state of the Galaxy. This was a title that bore a load of responsibility that would weigh like an anchor to whomever was shackled with the duty of leading the allit. It was no small undertaking - and in the passage of time as the battles raged, Azrael contemplated just what it would mean to fill that role, and wear the proverbial crown. There were no nerves on edge for who he might have to face in succession after a battle would wane, merely the implications of a role that he didn't know if he was even capable of truly handling. Confidence in himself was not a hallmark of his character - though the strength and encouragement he felt from several of his vode was a balm to him in that area.
Lost in thought, nearly trance like in the musings of his mind - Azrael's form jerked to the side as a bellowing voice carried over the din, echoing across the walls and pillars of the hall, casting his and various attention to the source. At first a small smile touched the hidden visage of the Field Marshal as he was glad to see his brother (despite the injuries) back on Mandalore. Rescuing him from the Sith was a cause for celebration, one that he was grateful to take part of once he had a moment to revel in that victory. Preliat, while savage and at times uncouth, was a trusted and well meaning brother - as well as an exceptional warrior. Ever since he met him on Elrood, he knew that Mantis would stick close to the bonds of the Mando'ade, and he hadn't been wrong. The next biting words that escaped his mouth though brought a crease to his brow as the scathing retort against those putting their bodies to the test in the heat of combat were rebuked by the Field Marshal across the way. He knew the traditions like any of them did, but he saw something in this that sickened him. It was an approach he didn't expect, though when gesture to himself game and Mantis invoked his will that he should ascend to throne. Speech wasn't coming to Azrael, as he lay in silence, quite shocked by the deceleration - but even more so the next following ripples cascading from the metaphorical stone that Mantis had just chucked into the Mando'ade pool.
Shifting attention from warrior to warrior - etching their replies into his mind as each one that piped up echoed the choice in earnest. Despite Nolan's retort lashing back at Preliat for his tactless summary, even he gave the nod of approval before departing. Stunned by the turn of events, far moreso than he expected, a decision had to be made, and while there was only one more bout continuing in the foreground - it seemed as if the approval of the vode was drawing to the conclusion of the matter. After a few moments of taking the scene in, the buy'ce rose, tipping his chin up and giving a curt nod to those assembled. Azrael turned and drew himself up to the platform where the throne lay, the set of armor of his Buir resting to the side. The Field Marshal turned and collapsed the weapon to sheathe onto his back once more. Both hands coming to release the buy'ce from his head, and cast his gray eyes towards Devorah. A silent thank you expressed from his lips before he turned to face the room again.
"Vor'e vode. You became my allit when I had none. I am forever in your debt. If anyone challenges my claim - I will meet them with fair combat, but until then. I accept the duty of Mand'alor. Oya." The simple but profound statement ended as Azrael bent at the knees and rested his frame upon the throne. Leaving Gil's armor undisturbed for now, he'd see to it soon that it be placed into the Hall of Heroes in it's rightful place as a memorial to the man who was his Father as much as he was his A'lor.
[member="Nolan Detta"] | [member="Aditya Amadis"] | [member="Ginnie Ordo"] | [member="Briika Detta"] | [member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Olivia Dem'adas"] | [member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Devorah Khaladan"]
