Private The Art of Warfare

[Sig Dryggo]

The Art of Warfare
Tag(s): Carduul Akahl
Objective(s): Discuss the Future, Spar Carduul

Sig hated prolonged space travel. The warrior much preferred being on the ground engage in combat than in space or a starfighter. However he also wasn't alone anymore. Among the Neo-Crusaders, Sig had found those who shared the same beliefs and ideals as himself. This would invite the thought that Sig might actually gain some friends. One would think.

In reality, Sig was as himself as ever and usually spent most his time solo. It was only recently that he had found himself upon one of the many frigates that had joined the quickly growing Neo-Crusader fleet. In-between missions, Sig had spent time recruiting for the cause. It was a process he enjoyed, particularly because he himself was a Foundling. However despite these interactions with those who claimed to believe the same things as he, Sig wasn't convinced entirely.

There were some. Hakon Fett , with whom personally inspired Sig and also sparred with, or Ninurta Slaabur'r , who he had hunted with. True Mandalorians and individuals Sig had no doubt were ready to do whatever it took to ensure victory for their people. He had heard, though, that Hakon recently changed. Or changing. And it was all thanks to another brother of the Crusade, Carduul Akhal.

It was true, Sig knew little of him. Though they briefly encountered one another prior, it was, like usual, in the heat of battle and was hardly a place for Sig to get a judge on his personal character. It was true enough that you could tell a lot about a Mandalorian by the fight they put up. However Sig knew there was more.

Clan Dryggo was an anomaly amongst the clans. Nomadic and only large enough to support the next two generations, Clan Dryggo was Sig's home despite their ways. Through this adopted family he had learned everything he ever knew. How to fight. Hunt. Rage war. The old ways.

Whatever Carduul said to Hakon, Sig was eager to get a shot of as well. He had sent him a message, then, asking to meet him here among the fleet. Sitting inside an empty training room, Sig awaited his brother in war.
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Objective: Give a lesson in battle and history.
​

“-Feth!” Cried a blue-clad Neo-Crusader as he fell onto the cold, metallic floor of the room. A blade was leveled at his throat by his opponent. Around them gathered several more, in a makeshift battle circle in a separate room. Amidst them was that crimson figure, watching upon the sidelines with hafted weapon in hand.

“If you expect to face the Jetii on the battlefield with this bladesmanship, you would fare better expecting a grave.” He asserted, with a gesture for the fallen warrior up. “Again. Keep your legs wider.”

There were a few more recruits, always trickling in. Not all came from expected sources. Such was their Way. They were constantly on the move, constantly at War with an eternal enemy, but to go without preparing these new prospects would simply be sentencing them to suicide.

As they stood up, and the furious clash of metal resumed, he received a comm. Gaze lazily tilted to read over it, though, he was immediately intrigued by what he saw. It was a good thing, in fact - this one had been a long time coming. His boots turned and moved to exit the small room they had taken refuge in. On the way out of the exit, he tucked under his arm a roll of varying weapons, hefted with a huff. “Continue in my absence. I will test you all personally, later.”

Carduul had come to learn of this one’s exploits, though save from a brief encounter upon the field of battle, he had been mostly detached. Sig Dryggo, from what he knew, was not a man of words. They were a man of action. And yet, they had managed to bring more to their cause - a mentality reminiscent of their ancestors that he valued. As such, he felt it best to take a ‘hands-on’ approach as he motioned towards the new empty room. The Rally Master could not in good faith offer guidance, without first knowing who he was offering it to.

It seemed Dryggo held the same idea.

A rhythmic set of noises resounded, as he approached the the room specified within the invitation.

Step, tap, step, tap. The poleaxe remained close at his side, ever his steadfast companion.

The doors slid open, revealing the seemingly ancient armor, and the training room to Carduul.

“ Sig Dryggo .” Came words of greeting, as he paced a few steps past the threshold of the room. He could well guess as to the reasons he was here, but it felt pretentious to take a shot in the dark. “I believe you sent for me.”

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig straightened himself as he stood, giving a small nod to greet Carduul Akahl . “Vod,” he simply greeted. Sig wasn’t one to waste words and didn’t see the need to offer anymore for the greeting. He relaxed his stance and folded his arms before glancing to the rest of the empty room, “Two kinds of lessons can be taught,” he stated, “Which should we engage in first?”

Sig had not shared his views with hardly anyone. In fact it was only his cousin Vince who he shared a small fraction of his beliefs to. Even then, it was only a fraction. Not even with any of his fellow Neo-Crusaders did Sig utter what he believed to be the undeniable truth of his life and the lives of all Mando’ade. He instead kept it a closely guarded secret.

There were some who whispered among themselves, unsure if the atrocities committed by Hakon Fett , the genocide directly caused by his actions, were worthy of glory. And while there were those who indeed whispered there uncertainty, Sig was ready to announce his full support of Hakon and his actions. For the first time another had the same resolve he had. That’s why he sought Carduul, someone who Hakon himself clearly considered a true Mando’ade.

So his offer should be clear to Carduul: spar and learn through the fight, or engage in discussion first. Either way, Sig was ready.
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Carduul stared for a few moments, regarding Dryggo thoughtfully behind the helm. After that silence passed, he began moving once again, steps moving towards the side of the empty room.

“...I have been informed recently that the Echani believe that the only way to truly know another, is to engage them in combat. I believe that weapons are extensions of our bodies - and in turn, express a… unique, facet of ourselves. If you can handle conversation amidst that, all the better. If not, then battle shall focus our minds for proper discussion.” Offered the words in succinct response. He kneeled to the floor for a brief moment.

“Do you have a proper weapon? If not, I would suggest you pick one.”

The roll tucked under his shoulder was laden upon the floor towards the side of the room, and unfurled. Its contents revealed several different weapons - from simple blades, to more exotic types such as that of a halberd. More than likely, whatever Sig wished to use would be on his person already, but the Rally Master preferred to be prepared.

Meanwhile, he laid down the weapon he always carried at his side, and instead took up one of the blades. Similar to length in a beskad, but it would be a waste for such a metal to be used as a training weapon - this one was likely made of a random composite.

“First, tell me: what is it you wish to discuss?” There was all manner of things people could look to him for guidance for. The obvious choice, however, was upon matters of their history. It could always be something else, though - warfare, tactics, even philosophy.

He stood up, pacing around and turning to face Dryggo. Once he was prepared, his weapon was gripped in both hands, leveling towards his sparring partner with a simple middle guard - angled towards the other's chest, hilt held close to his right side. Visually similar to that of a lightsaber’s Form I, Shii-Cho, though altogether different in its purpose.

“Face me as you would a Jetii, and we shall see how you fare.”

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Conversation and battle went hand in hand with Mandalorians. Such was the way Sig believed in. He remained silent, however, as Carduul Akahl explained the Echani. When he mentioned a weapon, though, he couldn’t resist letting a chuckle escape his breath. “I have weapons,” he said cracking his knuckles.

He watched as Carduul carefully and meticulously prepared for the coming spar. Like the artist and their painting, Carduul moved with precision and determination. Sig could read behind the visor that concealed his face: like Hakon and Sig himself, Carduul was dedicated to the mission.

“Our people have forgotten,” he replied upon being asked what the topic of discussion would be. It wasn’t an answer, at least not a direct one, but one that Sig knew Carduul would understand. “Tell me,” he added, now making his way to the empty space of the room around them, “Have you forgotten?” He wasn’t accusing, he was being genuine. “Do you know that at one point both Jetii and Darjetii feared us?”

He raised his fists and nodded to Carduul that he was ready. Taking a step forward, Sig launched a single right hook at his opponent’s head. He hasn’t seen Carduul fight personally and had only heard of his encounter with Jenn Kryze . Though he expected a true warrior; so to start he decided to fight conservatively.
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

It would seem the topic of the hour was, indeed, upon history. Upon ideal. That was the point, he believed, of their crusade - it was survival, it was a battle of hearts and minds. That was what war was.

“So you choose your body. Fitting.” It reflected what he had seen of Sig’s essence well. Rage, determination unyielding. Noteworthy traits, if one wished to fight in their cause.

Helm tilted in idle curiosity, however, upon Sig's question. Gaze followed as he made his way towards the opposing space from him. “I am beholden to many points of our history, and what it demands of our future. You speak upon the times of Mandalore the Ultimate. Upon Mandalore the Wrathful.”

Visor tilted as he held the blade introspectively for a brief moment, before it steadied in his grip.

“The Dar’jetii did not. They are too self-absorbed, too short-sighted to. Their senseless vigor has led them to victories over us, but never extinction. The Jetii did. They had every right to. They were brought to their knees, so long ago. But something happened. Eventually, they no longer feared us. They brought us to ours, and scattered us to the wind. How do you think that occurred?” Was a question posed in turn by the Rally Master. Words remained even-toned, matter-of-fact.

By choosing to use his fists over a blade, he sacrificed the range needed to properly offend. Carduul adjusted the angle slightly and took a step rightwards, so that Sig’s right hook would be halted with his shoulder meeting the blade’s point if he did not pull it back. Like a Jedi would, he did not strike first - merely used his opponent’s momentum against them. They would touch upon the matter of their misguided brethren later, perhaps.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig’s metal hand bounced back with a loud clank, causing Sig to momentarily lose balance. Quickly taking a leap back, he regained his footing and decided to try a more direct approach. Taking a step forward he brought both hands up to grab Carduul Akahl ‘s weapon. He hoped to grab it and throw it back into his face, causing a minor stun. Regardless he followed this with a strong kick aimed at Carduul’s left knee.

Immediately after the volley of attacks, Sig fell back and caught his breath. It wasn’t to regain strength or stamina, however. No, Sig was aware that it was during those moments of rest the two Mandalorians would continue their discussions.

Taking a breath he cracked his knuckles once more and began pacing before his vod. “The Dar’jetii did what they did out of fear,” he responded coldly. “They saw the threat we posed, the raw power we had that they’d never obtain. They saw, for the first time, what fear looked like: and it was us.” He extended his arms out, a grand gesture to the galaxy around them, “But we forgot. Within the chaos and unending conflict between Jetii and Dar’jetii we forgot. I ask you this: what must we do to remind our people who we are?”
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

He watched as he made a grab for the blade. An interesting move, but not one unexpected. A very simple movement, he disengaged it by dropping its angle and thrusting low towards the metal plate on his shin, intending to let his hands sail over it. If Sig was targeting only the blade and not quick enough to adjust, he may find himself overextended.

“Your zeal burns bright, but it would be wise not to allow it to blind your eyes in its flames.” Came a cautionary response by Carduul. It was the trait that, in his view, hampered capability for true leadership. A formidable warrior it made, and it was part of what made a leader, t'was true, but a leader must be one of proper judgment.

“If our people are to awaken, they must see unburdened by lies, warped perception, or zeal. They must be able to avoid and improve upon the mistakes of the past.” Came the statement thereafter, just as the kick came. It hit him with a soft ‘Hff-’ of exertion as it forced him to take a step back - better, his opponent was using more than just his fists. Stance would re-center, pacing slowly sidelong.

“That is the only way for us to awaken once more, for we are not the first - and we shall not be the last. This is our Way. We are inevitable, as a force of nature.”

“The truth lies in our past,

our present,​

our future.”​

“More awake as we speak. The proof of the matter lies around you. It is our destiny, as Kad Ha'rangir wills, to refuse the whispers of Arasuum. And it has never triumphed over our people - nor shall it ever.” Spoken matter-of-factly, with a steadfast resolve in his people, as his hand gestured towards the other. Expressive despite the shell he bore.

“But if any such awakening is to truly succeed, the answer is simple; they must see that these unassailable foes, can yet be overcome. Mandalorians must stand united.”

Blade flourished, casting to his side for a brief moment as his hand clenched into a fist.

“They knew the power we wielded, yes. This became a strange form of respect. They believed we held traits in common…but eventually, they sensed weakness. The reason was because of division, in our own ranks.” A soft growl at the recollection, blade assuming a high guard, and twisting at last for an offensive maneuver bearing downwards, making a cut for Dryggo's left shoulder.

“And so, the Emperor with his fleet razed Mandalore to the ground, wishing to subjugate our strength for themselves. That is all they have ever done. They installed a puppet playing to their tune. Even despite this, we made them dearly pay for every inch. There was never any fear - only greed, coveting our strength to absorb into theirs.” Came the Rally Master's firm, and lengthy reassertion. His words echoed with a hollow reverberation in the empty room, upon reciting their most recent scattering. The Mandalorians had never truly recovered since.

“They have used, scarred, and discarded us for eons. T'was the failing of Mandalore the Indomitable. Of the Infernal. Of the Undying. Of the Unchained.” Names. Titles. Battles. So many pieces of their history, lost to a most Mandalorians of today's age.

“But now, I am curious. If that is your belief upon the Sith, then how do you believe the Jedi overcame us?” Came the words thereafter. Said question was important to his lesson, today - and so he insisted upon its asking once again.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig focused first on the fight; though his ears were still open and listening to every last word Carduul Akahl spoke. It was true he has overextended his reach, something he anticipated, though his quick sweep back after the initial assault was sufficient enough to keep him free from any initial harm. As the blade came down towards Sig, he opted for another low blow: attempting to roll out of the way while delivering a punch. It likely wouldn’t land, as it was directed at nowhere in particular. But any hit was a hit.

As he recovered from the roll he straightened and rotated his neck, a crack occurring in the process. “Allow me to be blunt, vod o’r akaan…” he responded, his voice growing cold and distant, “…this ‘Crusade’ is mine.”

He began pacing and his eyes, unblinking and filled with rage, glanced into Carduul. A stare so powerful surely his Mandalorian brother could feel it even through his helmet and emotionless t-visor. “This cesspool of a galaxy is drowning chaos. Jetii, Dar’jetii. Oyu’a Tom, Dark Empire. The same players, different names, for thousands of years.”

He stopped a moment and decided to launch a series of punches, all directed at his chest and head. He knew he’d likely try and counter, but for now it was delivering a message. A message of rage. He gave himself distance once more, catching his breath. “It fills my heart with shame to see how low in the dirt our people have become. To know the once mighty Mandalorian people, feared by Jetii and Dar’jetii alike, have been reduce to a shadow of our former selves.”

He turned briefly, glancing out a nearby window and into the void of space. “These Protectors,” he spat with disdain, “these pretenders- all of them auretiise. False Mando’ade have lead our people astray! And they have forgotten who they are, who we are!”

He turned back to Carduul once more, readying himself for the fight by bringing his hands back up to a fighting stance. “But I haven’t. I see what we’ve become. I see that we have become the very thing we swore to destroy: weak, soft, too afraid or unwilling to fight!”

He paced once more, his rage building. “No more! This Crusade and the war to follow, it belongs to me! I’ve trained, I’ve waited, I’ve watched for the moment and prepared for the day our people finally rose up and said ‘no more’ to the galaxy that pushed them down!”

He looked through his visor and through Carduul’s knowing they had locked eyes through sheer gut instinct. “My legacy will be death and misery, children will awaken in the night screaming at the thought of me, of my Crusade! And I will not rest until every world is burning, until the void between is filled with nothing but choking ash, and our people stand among the broken and bloodied bones of everyone who dared try and claim the glory that is rightfully ours!”

He took a breath, letting all he had to say wash over the mind of his vod. “My Crusade will rip the very fabric of this galaxy to shreds,” he added, his tone returning to its more calm and controlled state, “and we will reforge it with the Mando’ade in their rightful place. This is my promise.” He knew it didn’t answer his question, not directly anyways. It didn’t matter. His goals were laid out for the first time to someone beyond himself. Whether it was the right choice, would remain to be seen.
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Without proper stance, the punch was easy enough for Carduul to twist his body aside for a brief moment, the dodge narrowly escaping the blade’s cut. With that, they returned to neutral once again. The Viper was adept at talking and fighting at the same time. Battle was all - mind, body, heart, soul. But there were no words, fewer actions taken, as he listened to Sig Dryggo. Punches were avoided with ease - slips of his head, several small movements of the blade that would force Dryggo to impale himself to pursue. Focusing on processing the speech.

It could be told, that as the words slowly went on, Carduul’s stance became less relaxed. Slightly growing colder, much akin to the one opposite of him. Until it finally came to a close.

“I see. Allow me to be blunt as well, then...what manner of, mockery, is this?” Was the reply, finally, in turn. Helm tilted inquisitively with the query.

“This Crusade is for all Mando’ade.” Came a resolute statement thereafter. “Remember that, or your throat will be torn out by our own people. If you believe yourself above them, they shall remind you why the Red Coronation occurred.” His free hand’s thumb pressed against his neck, and drew across it, as if to accentuate his point.

“It would do well to remind yourself, vod, that this is not a duty of personal glory. This is a duty of renewal. Of vengeance and collective triumph, against those who have wronged us. Do you dare to tell me there is honor and glory in slaughtering recklessly, down to every last man, woman, and child?” He inquired, incredulous. Blade pointed in the other’s direction, hidden visage continuing to remain locked onto their form.

“Being a nightmare of children’s and cowards’ dreams is equally unworthy of glory. If you wish to slavishly lust for death and destruction without purpose, then join the Unchained, as puppets of the Sith.” Words were blunt, harsh. They were not said out of hatred, but out of some vague form of care for another. What Dryggo spoke bordered upon the lines of the heretical belief of that sect. His own declarations broiled with a quiet, grim undertone that gave window to a constrained rage.

But amidst Mandalorians, words alone hardly backed up claims. Especially not with one of Dryggo’s ilk.

Step, step - a few paces sidelong, both hands grasping the hilt still held low to his side. Before his leading foot made a small lunge forwards, metal flashing with a glint of light as it made an uppercut towards the leg with a sudden burst of speed. He was faster than most Mandalorians, it seemed.

“This cycle is continuous. It is how the galaxy continues. We are an instrument of it. Life and Death incarnate.” Blade aimed to twist its way to one of the more exposed part of his underarm, should he attempt to directly intercept the blade. Steps had shifted diagonally towards him, so as to strike and move past him in the same motion.

“This crusade will see the simple truth of Kad Ha’rangir unveiled: We will succeed, or we will fail. When we succeed, we shall have a period of prosperity for our children, and our children’s children. All conquered, inevitably rotting, before our lust for life forces us once again unto the fray. With more. With each other. When we fail, we have pleased him regardless - for our foes have been reforged stronger, and shall lead the galaxy to greater heights, and our return inevitable for the next test.” The Rally Master punctuated the statement with a shift of his blade's stance, holding it straight against his shoulder - pointed forwards towards the other's neck, with his arms crossed in their grip of the hilt. Then a step was taken forward, unwinding his arms, turning what first looked to be a thrust into a cut towards their left shoulder.

“Hear me, Sig Dryggo, and hear me well. As long as I stand, I shall strive to reforge this galaxy in the fires of war, so that all may be made stronger in its adversity. When the dust settles, all shall be united under the Banner of the Mando’ade. All shall share in our culture, and rejoice. The word Aruetii shall no longer hold meaning, for wherever a Mandalorian goes, they shall be able to call it home.” With his assault concluded, his footwork saw him move gracefully across their makeshift battlefield. Arms splayed out in turn, to the wide galaxy about them - much in a similar manner to the other, prior.

Carduul’s own motivations laid bare, plain to see. May as well, if they were speaking truly at this moment. With that, he returned to grip his blade, and stared across with a veiled look - one of determination in his own cause, of the righteousness and glory he would earn by bringing it not just to himself, but to all.

“I bid you; focus thy rage into righteous cause, or thou shalt become a slave to it. If you intend to turn this into a foolish, selfish pursuit of glory in our moment of triumph, I shall gladly stop it myself - for it leads to no different a result than the Protectors, the aruetiise, you so despise.”

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig did little to avoid the counter-strikes thrown his way. Carduul Akahl , then, landed his intended hits, sending Sig back a bit and grasping his shoulder. His armor would absorb most the damage, including the direct strike of the blade itself, but that didn’t mean it made him invincible.

He wouldn’t let the pain show though. Instead it shot through his body and quickly turned into adrenaline. Standing back and giving space between the two, Sig chuckled, “Make no mistake,” he started, his laughter dying down, “I exist to serve my people. Everything I do, no matter how violent or cruel, is for the greater good of my people.”

In a single motion, Sig reach over to grab the chair he was originally sitting in at the start of their interaction and proceeded to launch it in the direction of his foe. He would follow behind it, for it was simply a distraction to throw Carduul off guard. He’d be right behind it with a roundhouse kick directed at the weapon in his hand, the intention was to separate the two.

Landing, he quickly took a few steps back again. “But I hear them,” he added with a hushed tone, almost a whisper. “They don’t say it out loud but I hear them whispering- there are still those among the Crusade who are unwilling to take the action necessary.”

He glanced at the door. “They call Hakon Fett mad for what he’s done, unable to see the vision he has.” He returned his gaze to Carduul, his hands once again raised for the fight. “But you understand, you see that vision too. My rage isn’t singular, it isn’t personal. I am the rage of the Mando’ade.” With that he readies himself, this time letting Carduul initial the next bout.
​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Steps had motioned aback once again - stance poised for action. The other had taken a moment to give some manner of explanation to his thoughts. It felt flimsy, at best.

“That is as it should be.” Decreed the Viper in reply. His visor remained staring at Dryggo, an unreadable expression beneath it. “There is no greater cause than to dedicate ourselves to our people. But words change easily. We shall see, as our Crusade continues, thy true feelings.”

Suddenly, there was the snap of motion. Perhaps if he did not have a training blade, he would’ve been able to cleave the tossed chair in twain. Alas, they did not have the resources to waste medical supplies on sparring injuries, after all. The duller edge forced him to tilt the flat of the blade and brace it with his forearm, creating a thin shield as the chair crashed against it. He staggered aback, and it was followed by a kick to the offset blade.

The weapon knocked out of his grip, clattering to the floor not far away. In the brief respite that followed, his whipcord shot out and pulled it back with practiced finesse. Firmly in his hands once again, there was a small flourish as he readied the stance once more. Judging by the centered and orthodox guard, the Rally Master was remaining in the guise of a Jedi. There were still two lessons at play, after all.

There was an eye towards the mention of whispers, the helm briefly tilting. He was referring to Manaan, of course. “What Hakon did was an unfortunate decision needed in war. There is honor in making such calls for the sake of one’s people, to ensure our survival against an enemy that outnumbers us a thousand to one.”

Carduul himself was not particularly fond of such methods, but some sacrifices must be made for the ultimate glory.

“War threatens to strip us of our ideals, but it is what we are.” He stated in regard to the quiet few who worried of the wrong purposes. “Those who whisper such things wish to maintain grip of their honor - they are right, for that. They serve all the same, and thus it is our collective duty to see our way forward. To ensure that their suspicions are unjustified by delivering a worthy end-result.”

Blade pointed forwards once again, gesturing with the tip towards Sig.

“So, Sig Dryggo; will you aspire as Hakon did, and truly make forthright decisions in the name of war? Or shalt thou merely use such reasoning as a masquerade for something darker, something more personal?”

He brought the hilt of the blade back in his firm grip, and raised it high above his head. It seemingly made him open to attack, for that moment.

“A Crusade is nothing without such ideals to hold us true to our purpose. We do not slaughter mindlessly. That would make us little better than pirates hiding in shells. I would be loath to see any of my kin reduced to such.” His voice was softer, morose at the prospect.

“...We shall see in time.” The Rally Master echoed the earlier sentiment once more, as a twitch of motion saw him cleaving downwards once again, a repeated motion towards Sig’s shoulder with a step forwards, body lowering. But it halted in its path just after the twitch - a feint, aiming to force him to reposition to guard against it.

Then, immediately thereafter, his grip turned the blade sideways, and attempted to impact either the exposed armpit or directly into an extended elbow depending on his foe’s reaction. With the lower center of mass, it was easier to flow into a position to achieve this. The weapon could’ve embedded, if it was not blunted and found its mark.

This attack was a test to see if he learned from the lesson the Cathar had taught him.