Teaching an Old Bear new tricks.

[Gregor Arthmael]

Gregor had finally gotten off of Midvinter after almost two centuries. He sat nervously on the edge of a transport staring outside of the ship, it was the first time that the old man had been off of his home world. His hands fiddled together underneath gloves, he fussed about the cushion-ey seat uncomfortably. He was being anxious about these travels, he was out here to seek knew battle and knowledge. Not have to worry for his life every time he travelled to another damned planet.

Gregor looked out of the window and saw as the gem of a planet closing in. The size of it alone made even a man as big as Gregor feeling insignificant. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he felt the turbulence of the atmospheric entry, making him sick. He was one of the first people who left the ship, sick and weary. He made his way out of the starport to find a place where he could calm his nerves. Gregor made his way to a water fountain and drank as much as he could to prevent himself from vomiting. After he had fixed his sickness he looked upwards, to the capital City of Mandalore.

Gregor Wiped his face to convince himself that he was not dreaming, this city was so advanced ahead of him. He made his way through the streets in terror and awe, amazed and horrified at what technology had shown here. It was nothing like his stone castle surrounded by wood and protected by the simplest of tools. After his thoughts sobered and he regain his focus, Gregor made his way towards where he wanted to go. To meet the Mandalorian warriors, to see if any of them would prove to himself that he could in fact lose.

[member=Ijaat Akun]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Strolling through the streets of Keldabe, Ijaat felt a surge of vitality he hadn't experienced in a decade or more. Alive, strong, invincible even. Almost every inch of him was covered in armorweave or spacers leather in brilliant white, fresh from a tailor he had formed a sub-contract with who was a bit better at such things than he, and bolted to that was almost pure beskar, thick and mighty. The plates were angled, overlapping, and in some places fluted or studded. It harkened almost back to the Iron Age cultures of the galaxy in it's design, and was painted in snow white and copper, with black accents. Peering from behind the chromed visor, Ijaat strode with a green cape cinched and buckled to his side like a rather famous mandalorian wore his.

Clamped to his back was his haymaker, a sonic shotgun of his own devisement and design. It hummed almost silently, both hammers cocked back half-way, the shotgun holding a half charge ready to fire. Riding at his hip, belted to his waist, was a masterfully crafted single edged beskad which his left hand rested on, and covering both hands were crushgauntlets of an ancient design. His abdomen plate was three overlapped and skived together plates, and his whole arm was covered in shoulder spaulders, bicep plates, and even his thighs were 3/4 plates with fully encasing shins and large meaty knee plates sporting wicked looking dart launchers.

Overall, his armor was exotic, hallmarked, and barely mandalorian except for certain shapes and the buc'ye... But he certainly stood out less than the man he saw walking towards him. As kindly as he could with the tinny static a helmet vox-amp provided, he stopped and gestured in greeting, smiling though he forgot his helmet would hide it.

"Greetings there. Looks like you're lost... First time in Keldabe?"

[member="Gregor Arthmael"]