Faction The Call of Wolves [Ask]

[Careena Fett]

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

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

| Objective | Wait​

​

Perhaps it was just time that made Careena cynical given the past; perhaps it was the lack of responsibility and leadership that upset her. There were a number of things that troubled the Alor to Clan Fett following the Alor'Ultai, a meeting which in her eyes was a failure on the behalf of most if not all the Alors, herself included to produce anything of value. And to make matters worse, yet another self-proclaimed Mand'alor being announced behind closed doors shortly after her departure. The Mandalorians had fallen far from the graces of their ancestors, and had been for quite some time with the string of half-baked and unworthy claiming the title of Sole Ruler since the Red Coronation. ​

​

This was not the way, and it seemed that those amongst the Mandalorians had forgotten their roots; it seemed long overdue to remind them of their history. Careena had resolved that Clan Fett would not abide a weak Mand'alor, especially one appointed by a select few. Mand'alor must be accepted and followed by the masses;​

​

One who must call themselves Mand'alor is no true Mand'alor.​

​

There were few times Careena called on allies for aid, and even fewer times that she had called upon her clan as Alor given their history and professions as lone wolves and mercenaries. Careena tapped her gauntlet, a series of beeps and clicks heard as she recorded a voice-only message for those specifically from her Clan as a message was to be delivered on a secret frequency meant for only those of Clan Fett. <<" To those of you who remain, and still follow the old ways, heed the call of your Alor, and even if you do not choose to follow me, answer it all the same. It is time that we spoke. ">> A few more taps on her gauntlet followed as it was switched to a broader frequency to add, for those she specifically had in mind, <<" For those who have seen me as an equal, a friend, or an ally - I call upon you to discuss matters of the future going forward, for those who follow the old ways and wish to honor their lineage. Call upon those that you trust to honor the old ways and meet with me. ">> An encrypted set of coordinates would be attached to the message as Careena sighed.​

​

Tough times were ahead of them, but Careena knew that true Mandalorians would endure even the most impossible of situations. So long as they had each other's backs and fought for one another, they could accomplish anything. Careena turned and clasped her hands behind her back as her gaze fell upon the bussle of Mandalorians already assembled under her, a combination of members from various clans as well as her own from Hoylin that had been brought into the fold that she had garnered over the years through various raids and missions that chose to fight as a group rather than individuals, assembled at the Morut where Careena had brought the Hoylin Fett into their numbers. The call had been made - It was time to see who would answer.​

​

@Any Fett | Hakon Fett | Trajan Fett | The Operator | Vyca Durren ​

[ Ask to Join ]​

 

[Khama Fett]

A light flickered on the Mandalorian’s gauntlet. One encoded to his clan specifically, to the point he all but ignored the Rodian offering his reward. The visor of his helm snapped back out of the distraction.

Khama Fett stood silently on the crumbling streets of Jedha, his bounty slumped unconscious at his feet, just as Careena’s call came through. Considering her urgency, he decided to wrap this transaction up. Securing the stipend of credits with an almost droid-like acceptance, he wordlessly made his way to the Razorwing, his mind already shifting to the new objective ahead. The ship’s engines roared to life, and moments later, he was hurtling through the starlit void towards Hoylin.

The transition from the blue tunnel of hyperspace to the starlit sky of realspace was seamless as his modified PTL-B9 emerged above Hoylin. The ship’s systems automatically transmitted the Clan Fett-specific recognition code, a series of encrypted pulses that affirmed his identity and intention. As the Razorwing descended, the landscape of the Morut came into view, a stronghold steeped in history and tradition. Khama maneuvered the ship deftly, landing it on a designated airstrip for incoming ships.

Stepping out of the Razorwing, Khama felt the weight of the beskar armor and the heavier burden of his long absence from his clan. The tension was almost tangible as he walked towards the gathering place where Careena awaited. The Morut’s grounds were a blend of rugged beauty and militaristic order, reflecting the spirit of their people. As Khama approached Careena, he could see the resolve in her stance, mirrored by his own wary anticipation. Clan Fett had a long history of bashing buckets together when in the same vicinity. He inclined his head slightly, the movement both a greeting and an acknowledgment of their shared bloodline.

“Vodu,” he greeted her, the word laden with the complexities of their relationship and the turbulent history of Clan Fett. The single nod conveyed respect, caution, and a readiness to face whatever lay ahead together.

Careena Fett​

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
CLAN FETT
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Khama Fett

From cold hands, the warm caress of Beskar was reclaimed. It was an ancient suit, donned by several generations of Fett before it landed in the hands of Trajan Kurze, a supercommando in service to the Sons of Mandalore, a vehement and fanatic group of Mandalorian Crusaders to which Clan Fett owed loyalty to in the 860s and 870s. Through the meticulous work of Trajan's father, Volker, the suit was reclaimed and donned by him until his eventual death, when Trajan was fifteen. From then on, he wore it before it was stripped from his body following a gruesome defeat.

But now, he wore it again. Now, he was Fett again. In its true face. To the summons by the Clan's Alor, Careena,Trajan answered. Had it beckoned the galaxy but a fortnight earlier, he would've thought himself unworthy to tread the broken path to the Morut. He tread unto the grounds with a slow and meticulous respect. Humbled to be wearing the armor once more and humbled to carry the name once more. Undoubtedly, the suit would be familiar to Careena. The same as Trajan's namesake who spilled the blood of droves of Sith Imperials in the Third Imperial Civil War as a Son of Mandalore. Though a different man, that same indomitable spirit was revenant once more within the steel.

Though of course, in spite of Trajan's successful quest to reclaim it, his mettle need be tested. He offered a respectful nod to the two, before speaking. <"How many do you expect to answer the summon?"> He asked outright.

<"Our people are one broken and shattered across this petulant Galaxy, far too many too weak to wield the steel...others in service to false banners and virtues...or worse, grown too comfortable on their laurels or past glories."> In a way, he described all of them. The Protectors, the Enclave. Most any who'd call themselves Mandalorian.

 

[Hakon Fett]

HOYLIN
Careena Fett | Khama Fett | Trajan Fett
HELVEGEN

While Trajan had been able to reclaim his ancient heirloom of a beskar'gam on their joint-mission to Mantell, the stash of mandalorian iron they had recovered was barely enough to craft a single vambrace for Hakon. Its graphite glint shone in an unsettling contrast against the rest of his battle-worn, rusted duraplast armor.

The battered suit told his story far better than words ever could. A wayward son to a wayward clan. The orange hue of solar radiation marring softly the rust weaved tales of his endless travels across the stars. The ashen dirt glued to the soles of his sabatons gathered the stories of a hundred worlds and a hundred decks of ships traversing the dark oceans of space, mooring in ports unknown of the Outer Rim fringe. A crewman, a navigator, a quartermaster, a captain, a gun-for-hire, even a bounty hunter for a few days and lastly a brief stint with the Sons of Shadows pirate crew.

He had been through it all throughout his youth and early adulthood, and yet now as the thirties dawned upon him, Hakon felt void. Purposeless. Until his eyes had gleaned on a datacron telling of his people's ancient past, of etching your name as scar in the galaxy's collective memory for eternity.

Of the old ways.

"This has been a long time coming." Hakon nodded in greeting to the gathered as he put a foot on a crate box nearby and leaned on it, resting his arms on his thigh.

<"How many do you expect to answer the summon?">

His eyes trailed off from Trajan towards Careena in anticipation. Though Hakon had not set foot on the Mandalorian worlds for years until recently, instead calling the stars his home, he had learned of his people's state through the occasional world-of-mouth. There were few among them who would return to their roots as Trajan candidly pointed out, but Hakon knew it took only one pebble to roll a boulder into a rockslide.

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Tags: Careena Fett Khama Fett Trajan Fett

The HCT-2001 Dragonboat-class Reugeot 905, named "Shard-Snake," dropped out of hyperspace with a smooth, practiced deceleration, its metallic hull gleaming against the vast blackness of space. As the ship entered near orbit of the planet Hoylin, the mottled green and blue surface came into view, spinning slowly beneath them.

Inside the cockpit, the lights dimmed momentarily as the ship adjusted to sub-light travel. A broadcasted message crackled through the comm system, the holographic display flickering to life with an incoming transmission. Two soulful black eyes widened at the sudden holo-recording, reflecting the bright blue hues of the display. These eyes belonged to a Muttamok, a creature of medium size and lithe form, perched on a control panel. It squinted and looked away, turning its gaze towards a blinking light on the console.

Moving with quiet, poised steps, a Falleen approached the console. He tilted his head, his sharp features thoughtful as he mulled over the message. The ship's cargo modules behind him echoed with the sounds of dozens of creatures in their cells or makeshift environmental areas, a symphony of exotic lifeforms.

Ninurta raised a bracer toward his face, his voice calm and firm as he commanded the ship. "Shard-Snake, set course for the coordinates received."

Within the hour, the Shard-Snake descended through Hoylin's atmosphere, its landing gear deploying with a soft whir as it touched down at a camp known as "The Morut." Dust billowed around the landing site, settling as the ship's engines powered down. Landing platforms extended smoothly from the ship's sides, and the furthest cargo bay door opened with a hiss of hydraulics.

From the bay emerged Ninurta, a Mandalorian clad in a strange looking Beskar'gam adorned with hides, bones, claws, and skulls. Each piece of his armor was a testament to his survival skills and the beasts he had conquered and all of it he knew would be meaningless to those who did not know his ways. Resting on his shoulder, the Muttamok observed the surroundings with keen interest, its fur rippling slightly in the breeze and a single arm resting atop the Mandalorian Hunters helmet as he approached.

Joining the ever growing gathering of like-minded mandalorians. Ninurta observed and took refuge near another adjacent to himself [ Hakon Fett ] silently.

 

[Careena Fett]

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

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

| Objective | Catch Up​

​

Careena waited patiently in silence after having made the call, awaiting to hear the responses from her fellow Mandalorians over the course of several cycles, giving them time to ponder the call before choosing whether or not to answer it. She did not hold much expectation for many to answer it, but the hope still remained. Perhaps there was still hope for her people to honor their roots and lineages yet.​

​

Khama was among the first to arrive - a small relief to know that her clansmen still heeded the call. She offered a small gesture of acknowledgment as she returned his nod before speaking, <"It is good to see you in good health cousin."> ​

​

Trajan, closely trailed by Hakon soon arrived afterward. She recognized the armor of Trajan in a heartbeat, and seeing it worn by his successor gave her weary soul warmth. Another silent sigh of relief to know that even those who wandered and roamed the galaxy of her clan would still answer her call, and to see that the two came together also provided her some comfort knowing that the Fetts had already begun to work together. A small smile formed on her lips beneath the stoic gaze of her helmet. ​

​

A new face joined their numbers as Careena's gaze fell upon Ninurta and his furry companion. He came in silence so she offered her welcome in silence, a respectful nod given to acknowledge their arrival and that their presence was welcomed.​

​

Trajan was the first to speak and ask a question, to which she promptly responded, <"If the gods favor us, many; But I do not expect many to answer my call...The larger clans seemed more interested in squabbling than anything."> A quiet, controlled sigh of annoyance and frustration followed before she continued on, ​

​

<"You are right. Complacency and the last few Mand'alors have made our people soft. And if my ears were to be told correctly, a new one had been self-proclaimed...And I fear for our people to tread the soft path once more, far from the one that our ancestors have created.">​

​

Hakon Fett | Trajan Fett | Khama Fett | Ninurta Slaabur'r ​

 

[Celt Saxon]

Location: Hoylin
Objective: Answer the call
Tag: Hakon Fett Trajan Fett Khama Fett Ninurta Slaabur'r Careena Fett
Equipment: In bio

Celt had received the message a few days ago and decided to investigate, she didn't know what it would amount to. This would probably the third time in a year she had "answered the call" but despite the best efforts of the Protectors, she still believed in the strength of her people and the nobility of her culture, so here she was, on another planet, speaking to another group of mandalorians. It looked like mostly Fetts in the room today, which made sense given their alor had called the meeting, but Celt quickly saw that she was not the only one from another clan.

The woman tipped her helmet to the others as she entered the proposed location, they were already in discussion so she waited a few moments before introducing herself, trying to get a measure of the room. "Hi, I am Rallymaster Celt Saxon, of the Mandalorian Enclave, I am interested to see what you are proposing." she proudly wore the sigils of her clan on her armour and one of her clan's frigates was in orbit above the world.

And if my ears were to be told correctly, a new one had been self-proclaimed

Celt had worked with the protectors as part of the rebuilding efforts on mandalore, her own Alor had a nostalgic love for that radioactive rock. To her the world meant very little, but at least it kept her up to date with the news from that part of the galaxy. "This is correct, and people wonder why the Enclave never knelt to a title that seems as though it can be passed about like employee of the month at some cantina" she laughed and offered her hand to whomever might take it.

 

[Khama Fett]

Khama watched in dutiful silence as more joined the fray. Some were fellow members of Clan Fett, whom he knew from varied Fett family "reunions", or other such functions. Yet another walked in, who appeared to have been dragged from some primordial sludge. And yet, out of all of them, he knew the woman of Clan Saxon best. Her presence on Kestri was well known.

He listened in as the others started getting into the thick of discussion. The old arguments began to bubble up. Posturings about honor and tradition. Khama could not help but hang his helmeted head. He made a sound that seemed like half a laugh, and half an exasperated sigh. He turned his attention once again to his company.

“Forgive me, but I find this situation laughable.” He spoke plainly, "And a pitch I have heard before."

For all that he had experienced in his life, Khama was a skeptic about many things. He supposed that now was as good as any to make a point. It was something he so rarely did these days. Another sigh escaped his helmet's vocoder.

"Friends, ever since Carnifex brought his wrath to Mandalore and her sister-worlds, our people have limped on." He again spoke plain, "And I have lived long enough see or hear of Mandalorians take many form since the cataclysm, all with different cries on the Creed."

He looked at each of them in turn. Some of them had been raised in some of these places. Others old enough to remember a childhood and Mandalore itself.

"From Enclavists who hide out in their burrows like womprats in the sand, to so-called reclaimers in the Protectors." Khama continued, "To Imperial Sons of Mandalore, and even the heretics of Khamul Kryze."

He knew he should make his point soon before he found himself at blasterpoint. Some people were easily insulted, no matter how truthful he was trying to be.

"For those of us who have scraped to make our own way in this wretched Galaxy..." He looked right at Careena, "What makes this rallying cry any different than that of Ijaat Mereel, Alea Varad, or Arla Rodarch?"

He had seen so much division among his people. He was hesitant to believe the call outright. He needed to be convinced that was not merely another hollow call for unity like he has seen so many times before.

Careena Fett | Trajan Fett | Hakon Fett | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Celt Saxon​

 

[Hakon Fett]

HOYLIN
Careena Fett | Khama Fett | Trajan Fett | Celt Saxon | Ninurta Slaabur'r
HELVEGEN

Hakon scoffed at Saxon's remark about Mand'alor, shaking his head as a grin tugged at his lips beneath the helmet. Though the slight was amusing, the truth held no comedy—only tragedy. The tragedy of once proud people; warriors whipped intocraven hunchbacks, their cowardice disguised as honor under the façade of the Supercommando Codex.

He listened as Khama shared his grievances, laced with the languor of a grizzled veteran. He was some years older than Hakon, and most likely far more invested in the dealings of Mandalorians than Hakon had ever been.

Slowly, he rose up upright. "Then die like a womp rat on a dustball scraping for a Hutt coin." he coldly said, T-visor fixated on his vod. "Or grow old and fat and die in your bed boring your sons and daughters with the same old stories." The razor edge tone in his voice was as much pointed at Khama as it was to himself. These were the fears that had kept him sleepless for countless nights as he sought a new purpose in his life. Fear of being forgotten, fear that his name would turn into dust in the wind.

A fear he understood he could only overcome not by seeking a kindred hand outside but swooping deep into the very fabric of his existence. A purpose knitted into the very core of his DNA, passed down through the ages from time immemorial.

"But I doubt that is what you seek, brother." he said, his voice losing its bite before ambling about the gathering. "You are right about one thing — our people have limped on." a hand curled into a fist before him as he continued with the same conviction as before. "They have limped on because we have strayed from our path, from what it truly means to be Mandalorian."

Hakon's gaze turned to the skies above as he stopped to a halt. "Once we conquered the stars, bathed ourselves in glory, and carved our names into the galaxy's collective memory for eternity." he paused before shifting his gaze back to his fellow Mandalorians. His proposition was clear, visible in the sharp glint of his T-visor before he even uttered it.

"It is time we reclaimed our heritage."​

​

 

[The Operator]

The Morut|A meeting| Hoylin

Distinct from the rest, the figure joined the gathering of Mandalorians upon the heeding call of Careena Fett. They chose to keep silent, their every move a mystery, treading quietly on the way up from their craft, which had arrived from the depths of the outer rim territories.

The only marker that betrayed their origin and clan was the solitary Skirata sigil that adorned their armour; who or what they were was up for debate, and it didn't matter. They had not come to represent their clan but instead find purpose and...revenge.

Years of idle wandering and mercenary work had left them aimless and angry, both at their clan leadership and themselves. This was an opportunity, however fleeting, to make that right.

"From Enclavists who hide out in their burrows like womprats in the sand, to so-called reclaimers in the Protectors." Khama continued, "To Imperial Sons of Mandalore, and even the heretics of Khamul Kryze."

They shook their head and let out a modulated chuckle, their voice masked by modulation, they knew the Imperialists and had had run ins with them multiple times, but none drew more disgust than the ones who worked with force users.

<"Better to fight one more time for glory than to persist in misery.">

Careena Fett Khama Fett Trajan Fett Celt Saxon Ninurta Slaabur'r​

 

[Gaanla Munin]

C R U S A D E R
HOYLIN
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | The Operator | Khama Fett | Trajan Fett | Celt Saxon | Ninurta Slaabur'r

The first stepping stone to reclaim what was lost.

Their heritage; the old ways of Mandalore. The auretii scum had done enough to influence their culture to stray away from their original purpose as a people. They had become divided, many arguing over philosophy - for generations - what was the true intent of a Mandalorian.

The Protectors.

Death Watch.

The New Mandalorians.

The Mandalorian Union.​

All of these sects would desist, and all of the clans would bend the knee to their chosen Mand’alor.

Or be destroyed.

The young Mandalorian, pissed green compared to the rest in the room, walked with confidence without having ego influence him. It was important to respect his elders and those with experience, but at then end of the day strength was paramount if one wished to not be preyed upon.

Here he stood to heed the call with the countless of warriors of Clan Munin represented by him. Gaanla listened, taking a liking to the figure of Hakon Fett as he spoke and shared the same frustrations Munin had.

"It is time we reclaimed our heritage."

“Then let us begin, brother,” young, yet bold to raise up his voice in a room full of old, hardened killers. “With whatever numbers we have, we will forge our mark into history and not allow history forget our names.”

“And for those who dare to call themselves Mandalorian and not suffer as we have in this plight, they will be nothing but ashes when our banners reach their homes.”

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
CLAN FETT
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Khama Fett | Gaanla Munin | The Operator | Khama Fett | Celt Saxon | Ninurta Slaabur'r

BLOOD AND THE BULL
​

Fett listened. To the words of his Alor, clansman brother and now the others who had trudged here, either to deliver their own rebuke or raise their swords to the crusade to come. He narrowed his eyes for a moment as they spoke, arms crossed, equipped with some wariness. The Mandalorians had taken many forms in the past half century.

The Mandalorian Enclave. The name itself marked its cowardly intentions. A place to hide away. They sought to bend the knee to the Galaxy at large so long as they could clutch whatever was left of their misplaced pride.

The Journeyman Protectors. They would claim being the last men on the cinder of worlds long torched in the Mandalore sector made them the true heirs and successors to the Way, the Creed, the Culture. But in truth, none of them fought for the soil they dwelled on.

Death's Hand. They prized strength, yes. But they did not prize loyalty. They were Sith wearing a Beskar face and content to play lapdog to them all the same. Worthy adversaries...but just that, adversaries.

The Sons of Mandalore. The alignment to which Trajan traced his lineage. They were perhaps no better than the others, content to march in Imperial ranks. But so too were they the ones to rip Mandalore from the jaws of darkness and liberate it from the Sith Empire. While others talked, they acted. But so too was it a badly placed investment. They aligned themselves with the Empire and as the Empire's influence waned, so did their numbers and they were snuffed out with a whimper along with Fel's regime. The same that Trajan had enlisted with when he was a boy, a young man. But that was before he'd returned and reclaimed his face.

<"The Mando'ade have bled far too many tears weeping over the broken earth of Manda'yaim, worshipping its soil like a god. For certain, it is our mother home...as are all its sister worlds. But to embody the Creed in soil is to make it something that can be taken...something that can die."> Trajan remarked.

<"It is indeed time we set out...the Galaxy is a sickened beast. The Alliance rots away in its decadence, the Sith continue to indulge in their depraved, dark sorcery...and those many who claim our creed and wear the Beskar...are oft than not- profligates.">

<"It's time to burn.">​

 

[Livia Cadera]

Location: Hoylin
Objective: Heed the call
Tags: Careena Fett Hakon Fett Khama Fett Gaanla Munin The Operator Ninurta Slaabur'r

"It appears the people have begun to make their case." the Cadera said to herself under her breath as she watched the others begin to make impassioned speeches. She had been a mandalorian assassin since she could fight well enough to leave the facility she grew up in, but had only been exposed to wider mandalorian culture for a few years, so she was curious what made them all tick. She had quietly introduced herself by name at the start of the gathering to a few people, but other than people recognising the name of her clan, she was a nobody here.

"What makes this rallying cry any different than that of Ijaat Mereel, Alea Varad, or Arla Rodarch?"

She had heard a couple of these names but they didn't mean a lot so she wouldn't give them much thought right now, but the idea of going into glorious battle for people like her sounded very interesting to her.

<"It's time to burn.">

She tapped her fist against her iron heart in salute then spoke up. "That all sounds great, you got a plan? Who are we burning first? And who is paying?" her tone was mixed with humour and eagerness but was also a genuine question, she loved to fight, she was good at it, it was about the only thing she was good at, but fights cost money, either in cold hard cash for mercenaries like herself, of the grander costs of putting together and raising forces against a foe.

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

He had listened.

He had observed.

He had overstood the complexities that the galaxy had seeming bestowed upon his vode and himself. Yet, there was little anger in Ninurta towards the circumstances that he was thrust into by tradition, culture and adverse history. He understood all too well that life hardly was set on the individuals terms. Shab happens. That was the way of nature. Destruction and rebirth.

So when Ninurta finally spoke, it was only after others said their piece and after a nod in return was given to the host of this call. Careena Fett

"That all sounds great, you got a plan? Who are we burning first? And who is paying?"

" Not who. Rather the question is when." He replied simply. Removing his helmet the Falleen looked around with devious intent. His serpent like features and green skin were more than prominent among this crowd.

" Womp rats. Tsk tsk tsk, you give the enclave too much credit. Perhaps we can learn from such creatures, I think we are the womp rats. Forced to scavenge for scraps when we have the ability to take. Is it not our birthright?" He said in manner that was gentle in tone. " I have witnessed with my own two eyes such rodents take down their own natural predators, let alone small towns. Three, no, six times their own size. Banthas. Dewbacks. Devoured by a not one, but a collective swarm." His visage grew darker in color.

Where once he spoke calmly, he now spoke with slight emotion.

" How much more could we achieve, If we would only mimic their nature." He concluded and handed the Muttamok on his shoulder a treat of some sort.

Tags: Khama Fett Trajan Fett Gaanla Munin Hakon Fett The Operator Livia Cadera

 

[Celt Saxon]

Location: Hoylin
Objective: Answer the call
Tag: Hakon Fett Trajan Fett Khama Fett Ninurta Slaabur'r Careena Fett The Operator
Equipment: In bio

Celt clenched her fist inside her armour as she listened to these people disparage her people, fine warriors who had fought hard against a foe many times their own size and military power.

"I'm hearing a lot of trash talked about the Enclave, that we hide like cowards? I'm here arent I? But where were you all when we had the warlords of the Jedi descending on our territory to murder Vod? or when we took the biggest chunk out of their Alliance's territory since the Brotherhood?" she scoffed but she was smiling under her helmet. Celt knew who she was and she knew she was not a coward, she would not be leading her armies out of Kestri to see what other calls were being made to mandalorians if she was.

She sighed and shook her head. "I am here to join this fight, sign me up. But if you only want to cast doubts on the honour of my people then I would be happy to go outside with one of you, take my satisfaction out of your ass, then head home with the matter resolved." she laughed and shrugged. She wasn't here to make enemies, and whatever happened she hoped not to leave as enemies. But to be insulted to her face needed an answer and she hoped that her willingness to offer up a duel of honor would be enough to show her thoughts on the matter.

 

[Careena Fett]

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

| Location | The Morut, Hoylin​

| Objective | Unity​

​

Careena listened to the present company speak their thoughts. It was good for them to voice their inner thoughts so that any lingering doubts could be squashed. They came from all walks of life, served all manner of banners under different leaders, but they were all Mandalorians at heart. While there may have been differences in how a Mandalorian should act, there was no denying their ancient history, something that all Mandalorians can look to and be reminded of their roots. She would take a moment to interrupt the conversation as her vocoded voice spoke in their native tongue, directing her words to those whose loyalties wavered,<"We have all fought for causes we thought greater than our own, under names and banners we thought were just; we have turned our weapons on each other in the name of a greater calling whilst forgetting what the true call is. I am not without guilt in this regard like most present here. This may be the same call that you believe to have heard dozens of times over, but the difference is will you choose to fight to cleanse the stains on our people's name from the past, or simply let yourself fall back into obscurity and do nothing while it continues to fester and corrupt?">​

​

She turned her gaze that was upon Khama and her clansmen speaking to direct her following words to all.​

​

<"I speak not as alor to my clan, but as an equal amongst you all. We must rise and take back our people's history, to cleanse it of all the taint that has defiled and corrupted our spirits and minds. Going forward we must be united and hold allegiance to none but ourselves and live to fight and die for the cause; The Mandalorians, and nothing less. A self-appointed Mand'alor will divide our people; they were not chosen by the masses. The true Mand'alor will rise with the support of all our people and not just the elected few. United, we are as strong as the beskar that protects our bodies. Divided, we are weak and frail. So I ask this of you, which do you choose to shield our people and champion our cause?">​

​

She paused as her gaze fell upon each Mandalorian present, giving them a moment to contemplate the decision they would make before committing to the cause before speaking once again.​

​

<"We may not have the numbers or the resources at present to take any massive initiatives in the Galaxy, but even a small group of crusaders will draw more like-minded souls to our cause. We will strike with precision and ferocity that the Galaxy has forgotten and that will be our advantage. If others choose to heed our call, so be it. If not, then they would be wise to stay out of our way. Those willing to shed cowardice in favor of strength are welcome, and those who have wronged our people will have their penance served by giving their lives to the cause. We shall learn to rely on each other with our lives to fight for a common goal.">​

​

Hakon Fett | Trajan Fett | Khama Fett | Ninurta Slaabur'r | Celt Saxon | The Operator | Gaanla Munin | Livia Cadera ​

 

[Hakon Fett]

HOYLIN
Careena Fett | Khama Fett | Trajan Fett | Celt Saxon | Ninurta Slaabur'r | The Operator | Gaanla Munin | Livia Cadera
HELVEGEN

Hakon's words found purchase in the hearts of most of the gathered. Few in number, indeed, but he could hear the war drums of a fathomless army beat beneath their armor. The fight was still entrenched into his people, laying dormant in deep hibernation. It only needed a nudge to stir alive from its deep slumber over generations.

The mysterious Mandalorian with a furred animal over his should offered a curious insight to womp rats and their behavior that brought a smirk on Hakon's face. It was an apt comparison to what they could achieve together; to devour the lethargic bantha that was the galaxy.

Hakon had a different response to the crimson-armored Saxon’s challengd but Careena spoke before he could open his mouth. Her words of wisdom echoed true, a testament to why she held the mantle of Alor. He had strayed from the true path much like the rest of his brothers and sisters. Dar'manda in all but name until the revelation of their past dawned over his dark, wayward path that led only down to a legacy of insignificance.

"A Mand'alor will rise from our ranks, forged in the flames of war. As it should be. Just as it had been for thousands of years before we lost our way." he nodded. "Before we were corrupted by the teachings of the aruetii." elected Mand’alor, no Mand’alor—the outsiders' way had spread like a scourge over their own. Ever curious, Hakon knew there was much to learn from the aruetii but not at the expense of their soul.

“But we are here now to right this old wrong. And like Careena said — we will need far more resources than we currently have to rebuild our strength.” he noted.

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

"I'm hearing a lot of trash talked about the Enclave, that we hide like cowards? I'm here arent I? But where were you all when we had the warlords of the Jedi descending on our territory to murder Vod? or when we took the biggest chunk out of their Alliance's territory since the Brotherhood?" she scoffed but she was smiling under her helmet. Celt knew who she was and she knew she was not a coward, she would not be leading her armies out of Kestri to see what other calls were being made to mandalorians if she was.

She sighed and shook her head. "I am here to join this fight, sign me up. But if you only want to cast doubts on the honour of my people then I would be happy to go outside with one of you, take my satisfaction out of your ass, then head home with the matter resolved."

" Your point is heard." he said and then answered. "We were scattered to the wind and you know this as it happened to us all. Whether we admit it or not, I believe we are all pointing to the same ideal here. One people united. An attack on you would be an attack on us all. I will speak for myself and admit that though I have my own opinions about the Enclave, I respect that they still abide in taking foundlings in and educating the young to our ways." The Falleen stated and looked around to gauge others reactions and opinions.

He had spoken truth and some seemed to agree, albeit, reluctant nods.

He paused and chewed on the works of the Mandalorian next to him. The one filled with fire, Hakon Fett . Him and his Alor Careena Fett had spoke true.

"A Mand'alor will rise from our ranks, forged in the flames of war. As it should be. Just as it had been for thousands of years before we lost our way."

"We shall learn to rely on each other with our lives to fight for a common goal."

" Just as a Peko-peko works to survive and collaborate with its kin, so to should we act the same. Just as only one of these avians will evolve into their Albatross and lead the nest. So to shall one of us rise to the position of Mand'alor. In till that time, We should strive and consider each brother and sister here a potential future leader." He squinted his eyes some and smiled.

" Can we do this?" He asked and then nodded his head to indicate that his question was a legitimate one.

Tags: Khama Fett Trajan Fett Livia Cadera Celt Saxon The Operator Gaanla Munin

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
CLAN FETT
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Khama Fett | Gaanla Munin | The Operator | Khama Fett | Celt Saxon | Ninurta Slaabur'r

BLOOD AND THE BULL
​

Trajan listened to the words and sentiment of the others. He'd soon find himself to be fairly confident in most of those present. There had to be faith in his brothers and sisters in creed. If they were to embark on crusade and march to war together, he needed to be sure that not only were they capable of the task, but willing to do what must be done.

For now, reassurance, but soon enough their mettle would be tested in the only true, verifiable measure.

<"We're far too few in numbers...far too few in resources not to be ironclad in our resolution, our unity."> Trajan said in agreement to Ninurta Slaabur'r .

<"As Hakon has said, there should be no deliberation of who is Mand'alor. When one arises, they shall lead. With unquestioned devotion and unrivalled tenacity."> Trajan iterated.

<"But we are in agreement...and so, our sights need be set elsewhere. Firstly, it should be the consolidation of the Clans, be it through might or diplomacy. A vast majority of the Creed has fallen out of the way or sought alignment with greater galactic powers.">

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

SHIP:

• "Ure'adtr" Howler Basilisk War Droid​

ARMOR:

• Besk'gathr Mk III​

WEAPONS:

• Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad​
• M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol​
• "O'dteyase Saranuhlr" Modified Vora-Class Verpine Hand Cannon​
• M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle​

ITEMS:

• AXC (10)​
• Mirshir Ka'esr Binders​
• Irya'kadir Smoke Bombs​
• Sasori Last Resort Cannon​
• Ring of Vision​
• Runi Ticu'r​
• Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

AMMO:

• Gas Canisters (12)​
• Slugs (100)​
• Grulyr'bedtr CryoSlugs (1 Mag)​
• RB-02 "Salt" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-04 "Droid's Bane" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-03 "Force Breaker" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• Tracyn'wuta Pyro Slugs (5 Mags)​
• Hurdisi Photonic Blackout Rounds (5 Mags)​

---

"Damn! Why is this stuff so blasted volatile?!" Sahan Dragr had been hunting vampires and collecting blood samples to try to find a cure. He was hoping for an all-purpose cure for many strains, but he would have happily settled for a cure for the Sangnir type. He wanted to make sure nothing like what had happened to Shai Maji ever happened again. Unfortunately, all his efforts so far had proved futile, only resulting in a few explosions in his lab. At least this time nothing had blown up.

Sahan sat down and ran his fingers through his hair. His miniature factory was divided between his forge area and his lab. The Forgemaster wished he was as brilliant with biochemistry as he was with metal, but he had not been studying it for nearly as long.

<PERHAPS YOU NEED A BREAK.> That was Artus the Mindforge speaking. <THERE IS A MESSAGE FROM A VOD ON OPEN FREQUENCIES THAT MIGHT INTEREST YOU. THERE IS ALSO AN EARLIER MESSAGE ON A SECURE CHANNEL FOR CLAN FETT THAT I CAN ATTEMPT TO DECRYPT, IF YOU WISH>

"No, no. If it's a private clan message, then I have no business eavesdropping. But I'll listen to the open one."

<VERY WELL.> Artus played the message:

<<" For those who have seen me as an equal, a friend, or an ally - I call upon you to discuss matters of the future going forward, for those who follow the old ways and wish to honor their lineage. Call upon those that you trust to honor the old ways and meet with me. ">>​

"Well, this is interesting. Wonder if it's just a 'Protectors' thing again. Speaking of, maybe I should visit them again, see if I can light a fire in them, instead of them whining desperately for a leader they haven't earned. But first, I'll see what this vod has to say. And as you said, I could use a break." Sahan walked up to his set of shiny gold and blue beskar'gam. It opened up, and he stepped inside, the armor sealing snugly around him like a well-worn glove -- like a second skin. "I think I'll take Jericho with me, let him meet some Mandalorians outside the Enclave."

<I WILL NOTIFY HIM TO BE GET READY.>

---

After following the coordinates, Sahan sauntered into the facility. Mando'ade were already gathered and discussing things in their way, which was to say aggressively. That was a good sign, at least. He did not recognize most of the brethren here, but there was one particular person he knew. He went and clapped Celt Saxon on the shoulder. "Red! Surprised to see you here. But I guess you've gotten a little bored lately. Been a while since we stomped the Alliance, after all. I've been keeping myself busy with bounties and a personal project, but how've you been? Did I miss anything important here?"

Looking around at the other Mandalorians, he opened his helmet's faceplate and introduced himself. "Sahan, Forgemaster for Clan Dragr, son of the legendary Siv Dragr." He pointed to Jericho Dragr who stood quietly behind him. "This is my brother Jericho. He joined the family relatively recently. I take it some of our wayward brothers and sisters have finally decided to grow some balls." He grinned. "It's about damn time."

​

---

TAGS: Everyone Here​