Faction The Alor'ultai | M A N D A L O R I A N S

[Cynthia Solus]

Of course she was late between dealing with a slight bout of illness, getting someone to babysit last moment. Do people know how tedious that stuff is. Manda'damn who ever set this out last moment was a blockheaded numbskulled chit. Of course she heard the chanting a while out and had Ca mute that out. The woman was wearing her Red Beskar'gam without the jectpack and opted for the cape that displayed House Solus's insignia proudly.

Just as she showed up it was hard to ignore the name drop of her clan.

"Clan Solus. And you- with the Infernal."

Preliat sized him up. He did not speak highly of the two, Solus or the Infernal, when said out loud. Perhaps it was indicative of how he felt about Mig, or perhaps just the company he kept. Truly, Preliat had only been around Mig a few times- not enough to form an opinion, but one's company was a good measure of one's beliefs.

"Our- homeworld burned, because of the actions of you, and your support of the Infernal. We suffered the wrath of Carnifex because of the Red Coronation." Preliat flicked his T-shaped visor back up to meet Mig's eyes.

"We have all lost a great deal. Do not weigh your losses against anyone else's gathered. You should care what your fellow Mandalorians think, or at least, hear them out. Clan Varad has a right to speak, and you have a duty to listen. I have burned worlds, I have sullied Empires, I have suffered more than you can comprehend. And yet I will stand here amongst my brothers and sisters and listen to them, for fear of another Red Coronation, another Civil War, or another Mand'alor like Yasha come forth. Do not speak ill of your brothers and sisters. We must be better. We must. Break. The. Cycle."

How dare this Bastard run his mouth, Cynthia thought as her fists clenched tight and came to stand by Mig. "Ne shab'rud'niÖ, Preliat," the woman said bitterly and lacking any formal respect to someone, there was also a little rattle to the woman's voice making it easy to not she was not one hundred percent at the moment.

"Don't think for one second our clan, our house was not effected by that." Her heart bounded in her chest out of rage and she had not even said hello to Mig yet. "YOU HAVE NO FEATHING IDEA WHAT IT TOOK FOR US TO SAVE THE REMAING THAT WAS STILL IN THAT DAR'JETTI'S HANDS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE BEFORE THAT MONSTER WHEN YOUR BODY IS BROKEN WHILE TRYING TO GAIN THE FREEDOM FOR THOSE IN HIS CLUTCHES! DON'T STAND THERE SPOUTING MADE UP CHIT. YOU ABANDONED OUR PEOPLE WAY BEFORE THEN PRELIAT I KEPT FIGHTING TILL I RAN MYSELF TO THE GROUND!"

The Alor of House solus took a deep breath to calm herself. This was not her intention but it was her right to defend her clans name and honour. "And do everyone here a solid will ya. Get your facts straight, your fething embarrassing yourself. Shabuir. Run your mouth about mu clan or house again I will Invoke the code."

"Ca, if he swings you've permission to move my body and attack back." She to the AI that shared the woman's body, thought those words was not broadcasted out of her Buy'ce for all to hear.

"No worries Cynth, I got you, I don't like this guy either."

Turning away from them she looked at around first at the others, "Appologies. Im not gonna stand there an listen to someone bad mouth my clan and house," she said towards everyone and then turned to Mig finally. "Su'cuy'gar, aliit. Meg's ru'banar bid chaaj'yc." Her tone carried as a you don't need to answer right this second but still being clued in was better than jumping to preposterous conclusions. Glancing over she recognized many clans and many people.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Savagery, unhinged savagery lay beneath his facade of wisdom and peace.
​

"I was dead- that's my excuse for not fighting. Was."

He just stared at Cynthia Solus when she had her outburst, letting her scream at him. He couldn't help but smile beneath his helmet- a childish display of anger, followed by a threat of violence from one not truly capable of utilizing violence.

"Clan Solus compromised to the Dar'Jetii, to the Dark One himself, and fought against the Mandalorians with the Dark Ones." Preliat turned his head to the Alors, gathered. He stepped forward, his frame towering, his gaze unflinching from Cynthia's direction. Preliat himself had fought against his own kind- but never on the side of the Sith.. knowingly, at least."And made billions of credits, from what I read." Preliat turned his head back to the Alors, and the gathered Mandalorians. "By the Imperials themselves., who wrote it." It would appear that Preliat had done some reading, or perhaps was more well-read than people gave him credit for.

He spoke softly, much softer than he had before. His accent, fleeting, hung on the edge of his words. A lifetime of speaking Huttese would give one that accent- but only just so.

"You have no honor for which to back a challenge. You disgust me with your presence and your actions."

Cynthia Solus

 

[Tarre Priest]

Talking points continued. Even as the hammer was held aloft in my hand, Still prepared to fight, Yet more words were spoken. Fighting in the arena, against one another was not what Baal called for. No. Even as he shut down what Mia had proposed, it was instead that we were to go through a set of trials or set of requirements in order to be claimed Manda'lor.

Then it seemed Baal continued to shake the hornet's nest. Asking why one such a Mig would just now be doing something about all of this. Why the spoke so heavily now compared to when the Infernal had been walking among us. Many hated her rein and tenure as a Manda'lor. The questions, and views of Baal continued to shake up this Alor'ultai. All the others felt like giving excuses for why or why not they could or couldn't have prevented such a fall from grace. Becoming puppets of the Sith Empire, and the Emperor. Many rumors that had come from that era only showed the entire Civil war was to cause a splinter of our people.

Even as Preliat spoke up about being dead at the time, and that the Clan of Solus had no honor here, I voiced what many may have thought or valued now more than ever.

"We are focusing on the past heavily. One in which was a darker point in our culture. To dwell upon it, to give it fuel is only derailing the Alor'ultai, and preventing us from moving forward. The past happened, its done. Learn from the history, and do what you can to not repeat it."

Breathing in deeply, I continued

"We can settle matters such as this later. When we are not under the pressure of claiming our new sole leader. Stay on target and focus on getting this Carnea done first."

Turning to Baal, Tarre spoke evenly and openly.

"You seek this thirty days of a festival. Yet many do not believe we have the time. A compromise would be to just perform the rites as soon as possible and as quickly as possible. Times do change. With multiple Empires on our doorstep, we do not have the luxury to saunter."

Baal Varad Preliat Mantis Arla Rodarch Mia Monroe Mig Gred Cynthia Solus Korso Rook Ordo

 

[Arla Rodarch]

The situation had only seemed to devolve into infighting and past slights, as well as history. Arla was concerned with some of the topics raised, but that would, and could wait. This gathering was not for ancient feuds to be settled. At least not one at a time. This was to decide the future course of the vode.

Indeed, the time seemed right for someone other than Alor Solus or Mantis to speak, and Arla nodded her head at Tuur, who saw the motion, as a signal that it was time to speak for Clan Rodarch.

Tuur alor Rodarch didn't look convinced, but, as she knew she should, she stood forward and spoke loud and clear for her Aliit.

"Thirty days is excessive. Clan Rodarch believes we should put forward candidates as Sole Ruler, and choose now from among them.

The decisions that face our people will not wait a month for us.

Clan Rodarch will swear to abide by the decision of this body."

The last part was a little more formal than she would have liked, and the young woman cursed her mother's influence upon her. Young Tuur didn't know what form the choosing should take, and so she didn't address that. She did know that she wanted this resolved, peacefully if possible. She wanted a Sole Ruler who could unite these disparate Clans, in part or in full. They could hardly do worse than Ijaat, who despite her mother Arla's regard for him, Tuur didn't hold in much favour. He had left them suddenly, and without warning. He had caused this.

Arla nodded her helmet towards Tuur after she spoke, which spoke volumes as to her approval. The young Alor of Clan Rodarch had talked practical sense. Better to say little and make sense than to give a speech full of wind. Arla had nothing further to add just now, and so she kept quiet, waiting to see what others had to say. She did feel pride in her daughter. She hoped Tuur knew. Arla would have to tell her about it later, if there was a later and they did not all rip one another to pieces here.

Baal Varad Mig Gred Jenn Kryze Mia Monroe Tarre Priest Raona Cadera Ssakai Exton Stole Careena Fett Exton Stole Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Ordo

 

[Mia Monroe]

"Worry not, Liberator, even the dickless are permitted to partake in the Carneia."

Mia gave a snort of laughter in response and shook her head. "I'll pass."

She watched as things rapidly began to devolve, decorum rapidly becoming undone as insults began to fly, the honour of House Solus being called into question. Mia felt the sting of Preliats words as if they had been directed at herself, Cynthia reacted as anyone would expect, desperate justification of painful decisions that had to be made.

Whispers began to rise at the back of her mind, the low hiss of their ancestors that grew into a steady thrum of noise scraping at the back of her skull. Mia lowered herself to her haunches and opened her mind to the spirits of the manda that so desperately wanted to be heard.

Dibina. Arasuum. Shuk'la. Arasuum. Landuur. ARASUUM.


She let out a slow breath, letting their anger and frustration wash over her, rising again and stepping smoothly forward, a wind rolling from her that distorted the circle she'd drawn, carrying with it the whispers of those echoing in her mind across all of them, before falling still again.

"Enough, Preliat. There is mando'ade blood on your hands, just as much as hers. Or had you forgotten about how Ra systematically murdered those who were born different?" She shook her head. "This clinging to the past does nothing for any of us. We have been divided and broken for far too long. While the Iron Father sought to undo that... he is no longer here to lead that unity." There was a hint of emotion in her voice, one she swallowed against, before continuing.

"While there is great risk in a Carneia, there is also the chance of great reward. One that I did not see before." She shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with going back on herself, but she could not ignore the whispers still scoring their nails across the base of her skull. "An opportunity to lay these feuds to rest, to set aside our differences and focus on rebuilding our strength under a new mand'alor, whoever they may be. I am not an Alor, so I have no vote here. But I have been Mand'alor, so I hope you will at least take some stock in that. The Carneia should go ahead, it is the best chance we have at unity."

Baal Varad Mig Gred Jenn Kryze Tarre Priest Raona Cadera Careena Fett Ssakai Exton Stole Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Ordo Arla Rodarch

 

[Baal Varad]

"Unforgiveness keeps them in control."

​

Then I don't really care what you, or Clan Varad think."

"Clan Solus. And you- with the Infernal."

"Our- homeworld burned, because of the actions of you, and your support of the Infernal. We suffered the wrath of Carnifex because of the Red Coronation."

I have burned worlds, I have sullied Empires, I have suffered more than you can comprehend.

YOU HAVE NO FEATHING IDEA WHAT IT TOOK

"I was dead- that's my excuse for not fighting. Was."

Or had you forgotten about how Ra systematically murdered those who were born different?"

We must. Break. The. Cycle."

Baal slowly crouched to the ground, not watching the Mando'ade engaging in bickering, but the eyes and visors of the others remaining silent. He too, remained silent for some time, until shortly after Mia finished speaking - the Iron Father's second. One of the commanding members of the Protectorate's standing army. Not an Alor, not recognized here among the other Alors, but a respected voice all the same. It was her madness and levity of it in these past few years that kept men and women and all between alike listening to the verda's voice. Some much needed order in the presence of the chaos that was an Alor'ultai. Like herding chickens, this was.

He took a step towards the hastily drawn circle, still crouched, his body moving as a primate over the coarse and rocky sand, looking down at the circle and then back up at the others. Again, his eyes were drawn not to those speaking. Those were the few. His eyes were on those not speaking. The many. They seemed distrustful. Exhausted. Unsure. Soldiers bent by years of war, men who did not have hope or belief in their leadership. Even now as Preliat bickered with Alor Solus, the disdain and vitriol shown openly at an Alor'ultai. The disrespect shown towards an Alor. This was not their way, not the way of the common manda, nor the way of the people who looked to these Alor as leaders. For those people, Baal spoke directly to them. He spoke in their direction, his eyes not falling to Preliat, Mia, Cynthia, Mig, Tarre, Arla. His eyes fell to the silent, and those still joining.

"Dis is your Protectors."

Baal hung his head, looking at the sand. "You can smell the blood boiling, even on this stale wind."

His gauntleted hand wiped away some more sand, and with a grunt, reached to his knee to push himself up back to his full standing height. "Yasha. Ra. Ijaat. Infernal. Iron Wolf. Iron Father. Blue Coronation. The Great Scarring. De Civil Wars. De capitulation. Words. Names. Titles. Battles. They say dese things, they say them with pride, they plan their speeches, they beat chests. They stab each other in the back to gain your attention. Dis is what they do. Dey want you to remembahhhh." Baal crouched again, slowly, his black cloak hiding the majority of his spiked armor, masked in the starstruck night sky. The fire had died down considerably, the Alor'ultai was reaching a conclusion...soon, perhaps not too soon, but it felt like they were almost finished in the council. "Remembaaaaaaah." Clan Varad no longer was beating their chests behind Baal, or slamming their spears into rock, or making a war cry. They began a slow hiss, behind Baal, underlining his words. "Remembah. Mand'alor remembahs. Manda'yaim remembahs. The verda remembah. Remembahhhh." He picked up some sand and let it drip between his fingers, appearing deep in contemplation as he said the words.

Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la.

"Infernal. Iron Wolf. Iron Father. Undying. Isley. Blue Coronation. Da Sundari Wars. People say these things, they say these things because dese dead men, they walked there and dey think... this is important. You will remembah.....remembah.....I am important. This was important. Learn from us. You will remembahhh...

Dis is what they want you to think. Dat dey are more important, dat da past is important. Learn from us, don't repeat our mistakes. Dis one thinks they caused da past. Dey think they know better. They say these words to you with authority, as they know, dey eyes saw it, dey have knowledge we do not." Baal made a mocking face with a wry smile. "I'm important, I know something you don't know, I was derr, remembahhhh. Maybe dis council better off with dem dead. Maybe these ones are better off speaking to ghosts who will listen."

Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la. Hssssssssss shev'la.

The Mando'a behind Baal, the Clan Varadian soldiers, were shrugging their soldiers up and down in unison, bouncing in position, almost seeming to dance. Hisses and the mandoa word for Silence continued to ring out from them, but in whispered silence. They continued throughout Baal's speech, bouncing in position on their heels and ankles, shrugging their soldiers, their arms remaining still by their sides.

"Dis one does not think this important, let dead men be dead men, tuk tuk tuk."

Baal stood up, laughing in mockery, wiping his hands of the sand. "Blue coronation! Funny name, dis one says. No no no, Clan Varad, no, we do not care." The Varadian Alor pointed in Preliat Mantis 's direction. "And dis uh... sol'manda. I did not catch dis ones name. You will be silent, tuk. Where is dis one's Clan, where are your banners. Sit with the foundlings, this one thinks, or go bleed upon a sword. A more meaningful death than your last, this one thinks. No Clan! No family! Manda'yaim has not seen fit to provide you, no. You are not Alor. You are not important. You must go. Why you speak dis way, why you think dis way. No manda thinks dis way, no, you must go." The Alor dismissed him with a couple of waves from his hand.

Baal turned to the Tarre, Arla, Ordo, and Mia - the four who were not squabbling like Dantooine turkeys.

"The Carnea is thirty days. It is Manda law, yes. Clan Varad does not halt Manda celebration for fear of invasion. If the Graug invade, if the Dark Empire invades, we will continue our festivities on their ships, and sing our songs with their women. The Carnea is thirty days. Those who have touched the ring will lead the events, in the order it was touched. Dis will give verd Monroe her sacred circle, yes. Tuk tuk tuk. Dis night, by my count, three Clans have touched the circle. Three Clans will be honored in the Carnea. If you disagree, it is dark, please show me da light and touch da circle. But unless dis changes, I say dis.

Clan Ordo will declare the first event.

Clan Priest will declare the second.

Clan Varad will declare the third.

We will start in Sundari, yes. I have traveled all dis way and my verda tell me the food is even better than a Keldabe wormsteak. Food! Festival! The Carnea! I am much excited, yes." He was taking his gauntlet off, ready to drop it in the circle, solidifying and concluding a deal struck at the Alor'ultai.

"The Carnea is thirty days of drink, food, and blood. Thirty days. This is the will of Manda'yaim, she will protect us from your invaders. Stand with Varad, we will point you da way. Come now. Honor the Carnea, and let us conclude this Alor'ultai."

Tarre Priest Mig Gred Ordo Mia Monroe Arla Rodarch Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Jenn Kryze Careena Fett Raona Cadera Ssakai Exton Stole Korso Rook Cynthia Solus Dasu'r Garon

 

[Careena Fett]

[ Theme ]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Mount Efreeti, Mandalore​

| Objective | Observe​

​

As she expected, the meeting had turned into yet another argument turned to power struggle. She let out a muted sigh from beneath her helmet as she muttered to herself in her native tongue, leaning back against the wall as the shadows obscured her from the group. Decades spent fighting Jedi, Sith and Mandalorians had left her tired of the politics. The Mandalorians had all allied themselves to those not of Mandalorian lineage or name, herself included when she aligned herself with the New Imperial Order under the banner of the Sons of Mandalore. ​

​

She had shed her fair share of Mandalorian blood, both of other clans and her own - those that had lost their way. She had also seen more than a lifetime's worth of fellow Mandalorians of other clans and her own give their lives in service to creating a future for the Mandalorians. It pained her to see that their sacrifices culminated to this bickering of Alors. None present were free of this burden. What would the fallen say if they bore witness to this petty squabble? ​

​

None among them have proven worthy of the mantle of Mand'alor. For there to be a sole ruler, they must be both physically and mentally strong - the best among them to unite and lead. This at best was a pitiful display of either peace or war mongers, that would lead their people to ruin. Mand'alor should rise so that their people can prosper and thrive even under duress, instead of plunging into chaos every time a mediocre Mand'alor decided to take the title for themselves only to have a brief and insignificant reign.​

​

As the meeting progressed, some among those present had expressed views similar to her own while others continued to bicker. As Alor of Clan Fett, Careena would excuse herself from this nonsense, as she spoke curtly after it was decided that Carnea would take place, "Fett will be in attendance, but I leave this meeting knowing that none among us are worthy of Mand'alor's name. May Carnea enlighten us and mend broken bonds so that we can at least be united against common enemies so that we may once again learn what it truly means to be Mandalorians. Until then, die well vod." ​

​

Clan Fett would not suffer following a Mand'alor not worthy of their name, even if it was against the old ways. They shall heed the call of the true and worthy Mand'alor.​

Baal Varad | Raona Cadera | Arla Rodarch | Mia Monroe | Gi’Yarr Shale | Preliat Mantis | Ssakai | Ordo | Mig Gred ​

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig was about to speak up, but likely thankfully the others, Cynthia, Tarre, and Mai, spoke up. The electricity in Mig's fingers subsided, replaced by a shaking. So many years. So many lives. He took a few breaths, his first solid breaths in a those recent moments, shaky, but there. He looked down, before eying Preliat, more somber, but still no broken.

"I didn't know about the Coronation. Still don't understand it. I know it's not an excuse, but my clan was farmers and working on a few ship upgrades, starting to think about making those first FACs. And... with Ra we had to lay low." Mig would simply pull a rock into his hand, eying the rock. "So long ago, but... has a way of making Mandalore never feel like a home., and it wasn't the world I meant. It was where I lost so many of my clan, some to Sith, some to a karking weapon that demagulka Australous made that took out as much of the Gred Fleet as it did the dar'jetii..... Concord Dawn.... We couldn't hold it...." "He dropped the rock, looking at again to the sol'manda. It was a defiant look or anything though. It was a saddened one. A thousand mile stare almost. "You and Baal ask why I'm speaking now.... There's not much else I have left to give that doesn't end up with everyone I love in the ground. And now.... It's too much like way to many of those old times for me to even want to be here." Mig would step back, Halgen looking worried about the Mandalorian as he slide himself behind the crowd.

He honestly didn't really care about what Baal had to say about the celebration anymore. He looked over at Careena, simply giving a nod if she even cared. This.... There was no way he could see this ending well, especially from a planet that, honestly, he could only see as death at this point. The Marshal just glared, resting on his peg leg.

"You know, I have to say at least it's a nice show for the outsider here." He said, adjusting his cap before walking back over to Mig. He just patted the man on the shoulder. "You're not to blame for all that, lad. Even if some sleemo brings it to your face. Plus, you showed up. I'm no expert but I you've served your duty." Mig just smirked, sliding his helmet back on. He looked, not sure what to say.

"You want your ceremony, Baal, fine. But while My clan could actually survive that long without me, I don't like leaving for that long, especially when the Fleet needs to be ready."

Ordo Mia Monroe Baal Varad Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Tarre Priest Jenn Kryze Careena Fett Raona Cadera Ssakai Cynthia Solus Careena Fett

 

[Korso Rook]

"So much empty talk."

Korso uttered his first words since demanding to know who dared usurp authority. He did not remove his helm. He never removed his helm. Fanatics like him would kill anyone who tried.

"Such scorn for the old ways from thinbloods who fled to the outer dark. Iron Father coaxed you back into Mandalore's light, but Clan Rook remembers."

The nomad chieftain buried his axe in volcanic rock.

"Trial by combat is not a simple test of who can cut the other's thread," Korso beat a fist against his chest, "Songs of aeons past teach us the ancestors choose who lives. Who rules. This is a matter of faith."

Faith was like honor. Easy to lose. Near impossible to regain.

"Shroud it in ritual celebration for all I care as long as the sword decides."


Baal Varad Mia Monroe et al.

 

[Dasu'r Garon]

Das found the bickering of the past to be as dull and useless as his uncle warned it would be. What piqued his interest was the idea of carnea, 30 days of honoring the Mandalorian faith and culture with all forms of celebration. Why not? A gathering of such was always a sound and tested method of boosting unity among divided people. If Das were hearing Baal Varad correctly, by the end of the Carnea, the sole ruler would be found among the clans who volunteered to the makeshift circle.

That was when the young Garon heard his helmet's communications beep with an incoming message. He had no doubt on who the message was coming from for it only could be Garrus Garon , who had been listening in. Das placed the helmet back on and heard what his uncle had to say. No one could hear the conversation for the privacy of the helmet as Das stood up from his chair and began to walk towards the circle. He removed his helmet so the others could see his face again.

Das unclasped the old, tattered yellow shoulder cape from around his neck. Some older veterans would recognize the cape as Strider's cape, which was given to him when he was selected as Field Marshal during Gilamar Skirata 's reign. It was the closest possession Das had that could represent Garrus in the spirit of this challenge. He tossed the cape into the hand-drawn circle, letting it land in the dirt. "Clan Garon will be Fourth!" Das declared confidently in his words while putting a foot on the circle's edge.

 

[Ordo]

"Hmm" the big mandalorian dismissed his vibro blade with a metalic shink and stuffed His beskad away. "Clan Ordo accepts this alternative."

He stepped away. He had made enough speeches in His life to satisfy everyone and dissatisfy even more. Clan Ordo was old. As Clans went it was just as old as the clans could be. Back to the days of the Taung their name stretched, and He forgot that sometimes. He had a duty to show the young a better way, they had lost enough of their people and hearts after all.

"Meshgeroya." He said to @Baa, "Alor's choose their teams. Clan Ordo chooses the first event as Meshgeroya tournament."

A good leader knew their peoples strengths a few days of games would show that just fine.

@everyone (Sorry I'm on call and it's been a busy couple of days) Mia Monroe Tarre Priest Mig Gred Preliat Mantis Arla Rodarch Careena Fett Korso Rook

 

[Arla Rodarch]

""Fett will be in attendance, but I leave this meeting knowing that none among us are worthy of Mand'alor's name. "

Arla stiffened as if she had been jammed with a shock prod as Alor Fett spoke her words, which cut her to the core. "Sorry vod." Arla whispered to Ordo, patting him on the shoulder.

Had she misheard what was said? Despite her pain, and her resolve to try to stay neutral, what was spoken could not be allowed to stand.

"Alor Fett!" the Marshal called loudly to be sure she was heard.

"I cannot believe that I just heard you question my worth to the vode."

Arla said, giving Careena the option to recant her words and to save face. She had thrown herself with deadly intent at the Warmaster himself for questioning her ability and her honour, and she would do so again if her worth was called into open question. She had not wanted to become involved, but such a personal insult would not go unanswered.

Since swearing her oath, Arla had given her life to service. She had fought and bled for the mandalorian people. She had built homes, shops, factories, supported families. She had helped to ensure lawlessness was kept in check. She had fought the Sith on Mandalore under Ijaat, and had fought them on their own turf. She had faced Darth Prazutis and returned alive. She was worthy, if anyone was. Her last week had not been a good one, losing her husband, nearly losing her life, and then capping that all off by she and Drego Ruus beating each other half to death. Her mood was fast going dark, and her patience was wearing thin.

"Surely, the Alor misspoke."

If she had to shame, beat, cajole and otherwise smash these vode into a sensible decision, she would do so, by word, deed, and if necessary, example. As a Journeyman Protector, Arla swore to put her duty to Mand'alor, and to Manda'yaim ahead of even her Clan. She would not and could not suffer slights to her personal or professional honour, so publicly.

Come on, Arla thought, take the sensible route, don't turn this into blood. She didn't want to fight, it was the last thing she wanted for this gathering. But she would do it. Without hesitation, if necessary. To do less was to be something other than Mando'ad. She would rather die. Damn the gathering, damn diplomacy, and damn what she had wanted before coming here. Honour was what mattered. Every Mandalorian tradition was in agreement as far as she knew.

Baal Varad Mig Gred Jenn Kryze Mia Monroe Tarre Priest Raona Cadera Ssakai Exton Stole Careena Fett Exton Stole Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Ordo

 

[Baal Varad]

"Unforgiveness keeps them in control."

​

"Alor Fett!" the Marshal called loudly to be sure she was heard.

"I cannot believe that I just heard you question my worth to the vode."

"Let dem go, verd."

Baal dropped his gauntlet on the sand. It seemed the deal had been struck, with Clan Garrus joining the trio of Clans that would honor the Carnea.

"Abstention from the Alor'ultai is law of Manda'yaim, and the right of any Alor. There will always be those who wish for da absence of decision, who doubt the way, who strive for endless deliberation. It is Arasuum incarnate, his will that drives the Alor'ultai to stall, to falter. They are his agents.

By my guess, even half of those who stay have thoughts that the absence of governance is the best form of governance, the only form of governance. They will use their presence here to stall us, then leave like the Iron Father, only to return in the event we do fail to tell us we should have listened, dat dey were right all along. They fear the winds of change, and wish to position themselves in choices of safety should our designs go poorly. For dem, this is a political decision, and leaving a way to save face and reputation with minimal energy given.

Dis is da way of Arasuum, lord of inaction. Do not lend him your ear, for fear you may fall to his temptation. Honor the Alor'ultai. Honor the Carnea.

Dis is our way forward."

Tarre Priest Mig Gred Ordo Mia Monroe Arla Rodarch Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Jenn Kryze Careena Fett Raona Cadera Ssakai Exton Stole Korso Rook Cynthia Solus Dasu'r Garon

 

[Marek Rekali]

Leave it to a Rekali to hear the word of a potential call from Mandalore and put it on the backburner. It wasn’t that Marek didn’t care. He was part of Clan Rekali, and that meant reporting to the call of Mandalore. There wasn’t a The Mandalore at the moment, but what the Protectors were doing, especially with their workings among the Witches? It made sense to him. Despite his freedom loving genes.

Still, the Dark Tide was parked on Mandalore, a world he’s been to a handful of times, to prove his allegiance and his ability. He was much more comfortable on Yavin, or in the jungles of Dathomir, where he did hone his stronger weapons.

Side arms were one thing, but spells? They were better.

What he was here to witness, for himself, and partially to represent Rekali, was the challenge for Mand’alor.

At least, if he was following his teachings well enough.

Politics. He remained silent.

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig glared a bit as Korso spoke up. He didn't think the man was referring to him in particular, but he couldn't deny it sounded a bit familiar to the years after Hammerfall. He took a breath, speaking calmly again.

"I'd be careful what you say Rook. Most don't choose to flee around the dark. Trust me." He said as he thought back. He did miss it sometimes. Was definitely simpler than this. Even if they were always watching out from some Sith fleet or pirates that thought they could get lucky. He then heard Arla, walking over. Yes Baal was trying to... at least Mig thought it was help, but it was kinda clear where his focus was. So he sighed, walking up and placing a hand on the Journeyman Protector's shoulder.

"Easy, vod. It's not worth the fight, especially after all the bickering already. Myself included." As he tried to get Arla to calm down, Halgen noticed the new person keeping mostly to themselves. Old cyborg couldn't help but be intrigued though. The other Mandalorians didn't seem to care about his comment thankfully, so he started walking over, the cybernetic peg digging into the dirt with every step.

"Look like you aren't the most thrilled to be here lad. Though I guess you did miss the fun." The Marshal chuckled, curious of this Mandalorian would answer.

Ordo Mia Monroe Baal Varad Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Tarre Priest Jenn Kryze Careena Fett Raona Cadera Ssakai Cynthia Solus Careena Fett Korso Rook Marek Rekali

 

[Shev Skirata]

Shev was not the sort of person to want to be a leader. He really didn't like the idea of even being around leaders. They always found something for someone like him to do. He liked building things. He liked flying and working on the things that flew. He walked up to the gathered group, mostly just to hear what they were gathered for, but part of him had to admit he kept some channels open that he knew his babuir Gil always kept open. He may have joined a covert and changed from the stary eyed kid that wanted to try the new pieces of armor his grandfather made but he hadn't changed that much.

His blaster carbine rested in the crook of his arm and his beskad saber hung from his hip. He could use them. His family had made sure he was well trained, but he had no feud here, not with the people present. He would have liked to participate in the games, even if he couldn't do the feasting and fu...other things, he still thought the vode could use a festival. They had been so long fighting and building, even though they had bars and clubs to blow off steam, a festival would be a nice time to grow closer. He touched the hydra symbol on his shoulder and wondered how Sula Skirata would handle a carnia.

"Excuse me, Alors." He said through his helmet speakers, "What about the small clans, those of us that either follow The Way or just aren't represented here? Can we all participate in the events?"

Mig Gred Arla Rodarch Baal Varad Gilamar Skirata Preliat Mantis Dasu'r Garon Careena Fett Korso Rook Marek Rekali Ssakai Cynthia Solus Raona Cadera Tarre Priest Gi’Yarr Shale Jenn Kryze

 

[Baal Varad]

"Excuse me, Alors." He said through his helmet speakers, "What about the small clans, those of us that either follow The Way or just aren't represented here? Can we all participate in the events?"

"Dis one has manners," Baal responded. "Why is dis so rare a sight in the South."

"Dis is Alor'ultai, only de Alors may decide here." For a man referred to as the Cannibal even among his own people, he didn't seem very threatening, dismissive, or rude. In fact, his voice dropped, speaking with a brotherly familiarity to the Mando'ade. Despite telling him that only the Alors may speak during the Alor'ultai, there was a very strong "however' coming. "And de biggest Clans have the most money, so we will spend their monies on food and drink for the Celebration.

But by the will of the Alorul'tai, even a Foundling may fight, compete, and drink in the Carnea. So long as Manda blood runs through your veins, and the Alor'ultai grants you passage, the Great Mother will honor all competitors in the festival of the Carnea."

 

[Arla Rodarch]

"Easy, vod. It's not worth the fight, especially after all the bickering already. Myself included."

"Let dem go, verd."

The Alors were right. Fett could walk away. It didn't change anything. She filed away the curses she had been ready to spit. Unseemly coward, stupid muckrat, utter waste of space. Kad made a mistake the day you came into the world. Your ancestors cringe. You're a stain on your clan, and a joke to the name of Mandalorian.

The words remained unsaid. Arla got control over her anger, and turned away from the confrontation. "Ferrik it."

Better words could be shared among vode who were not afraid to put everything they had, everything they were, on the line for the betterment of the vode. It might be a rough road, but Mandalorians were stronger together. Some had to go their own way.

Arla watched the other Alors. Baal had a lot to say on the old ways. She knew as much as she could about the ancient ways, though much was still a mystery to her. Arla's education had come from Ijaat, from Arch, and from Kad. She hadn't known what Kad meant when she had first met the old Mandalorian. But he had started her education. Arla snapped her mind away from that horrible time and back to the present. The dead couldn't help her any more than they already had.

It was at that moment that Arla noticed that Tuur was staring at her. A mother could read the face of her child well, and right now the Marshal did not care for the look on her daughter's face. It was a stare that held rebuke, and the promise of action. Arla suspected she knew what form that action would take, and it was not something she wanted. There had to be another, better choice.

"Clan Rodarch can stand to fund a celebration." Tuur said, though her look and her voice held the promise of more to come.

Baal Varad Mig Gred Jenn Kryze Mia Monroe Tarre Priest Raona Cadera Ssakai Exton Stole Careena Fett Exton Stole Preliat Mantis @Gi'Yarr Shale Ordo

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig smiled a bit at Arla, listening to Baal speak up. He wondered if his clan was even around when this tradition was used. Records only dated back to the shortly before the Clone Wars for them, and even then they weren't exactly massive, only bulking up in relatively recent years. He then heard Shev's question. Baal answered, and Mig looked. If this was happening anyway it probably was for the best to help.

"We can provide some credits too. Holoprojectors too so any AI aboard the ships aren't bored for a month for any of the clan that come. I can't guaranty I'll make it though. Someone needs to be the eyes and ears, and one of the good things that came from running around the galaxy was getting a lot of friends in a lot of places." Mig definitely seemed to have calm himself more. Maybe he was a bit harsh earlier, but he honestly didn't need reminders of what his clan went through, or acting like just because everyone went through something you couldn't have your reasons too. Didn't matter now though. Things were obviously moving, and he could either sit back again, or do something.

Ordo Mia Monroe Baal Varad Preliat Mantis Gi’Yarr Shale Tarre Priest Jenn Kryze Careena Fett Raona Cadera Ssakai Cynthia Solus Careena Fett Korso Rook Marek Rekali Shev Skirata

 

[Ordo]

Ordo nodded along with the words of the other Alors. His clan was smaller than it used to be but by no means was it without funds. He had never seen a festival to choose a Mand'alor before, but they had campaigned for so long those choices didn't have time for festivities. But now? He would support it if that was what the council decided. But perhaps Meshgeroya as a champion's event was a poor choice. That would be separate. Part of the entertainment.

"I will commit private funds toward this event as well." He said meaning mostly MandalTech funds he had left sitting for too long, "The Carnea will not be short on enjoyments, if nothing else. The Vode deserve that much."

He nodded to one of his clan mates and the moved off to send word of the decisions to the clan. They would need to prepare the fleet.

Mig Gred Tarre Priest Arla Rodarch Baal Varad Dasu'r Garon Mia Monroe Korso Rook Preliat Mantis