Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Seven Blades

Gorgon
Mandalorian Empire​
Path to the Valley of the Blades

The weather was brutal, the sun beat down on Shia's no-longer pale and now seriously tanned skin (a rather odd deeper grey colour, almost like slate) as she scrambled over the rocky boulder that half blocked the train.

It was impossible to believe anyone had marched a regiment of troops up here - but here and there, you could still occasionally see the scars on the side of the trail, and while it had been very well hidden - and she suspected cloaked by use of the Force - the signs of numerous pilgrims having walked this route were clear.

Up ahead, one of the small wayshrines - this one more intact than the others - that seemed to function as both shelter and a place of reflection, or at least peace, stood looking out over the amazing view.

She dusted off her bare legs and rummaged around in the pocket of her shorts for a nutrition bar. She'd started the climb with a mountain of gear, but most of it had gotten ditched not even a quarter of the way into the several day hike. Now she made do with a tank top, shorts and some very good shoes. She genuinely couldn't imagine how brutal this must have been to climb in any armour. But if the call somewhere in her heart, just beneath her breastbone was correct... the offerings of rememberance - blades, a fragment of armour, an old book and many others that filled her backpack - they were more important than any survival gear.

She walked over to the wayshrine and ducked inside the domed rock building, rejoicing in the shade and wondering where Mishel had gotten to this time.

[member="Mishel Noren"]​
 

Mishel Kryze

Guest
Valley of the Blades




[member="Shia Kryze"]
Mishel's hair had been pulled back, protected by cloth and leather that tied off in a way to make her look like a welder. Tough hide that breathed let the breeze work through the fabric of her overalls, a light shirt with black work boots had been a far cry from the typical scoundrel look the Tygaran often wore. When Shia mentioned they were taking Shia's boat to the Mandalorian Empire, Mishel packed what she could and packed for the life of the forge. With many exotic lightsaber weapons in the works on her ship the Princess Leia, and so admittedly when her now slate-colorued girlfriend started to talk of the 'Force' and 'Mandalorian' the Jedi was a little confused. Of course color her surprise when the Valley of the Blades was meant as a metaphor and not necessarily a literal sense, the hikes were also a new thing.

She wanted to remind Shia that she was lazy and the idea of hiking did not appeal. And still, here she was, she had complained the entire way up but she still she made her way up. Although, the sight of Shia ditching gear along the way was fairly amusing. The words, I told you, were not said enough in her opinion. Still, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind when Shia said she was going to take her somewhere special. Usually, according to the holoflims when someone said someplace special it was like a nice place to eat or dance, but then. Then she supposed that was for the movies and for people who's lives surrounded such things. At some point she had gotten sidetracked by something, which led her to a small gathering of rocks.

Dusty clay and rust colored dirt stuck to her clothes, she had knelt down and looked at the old stuff that was piled neatly. It was strange but she was curious, beskad's were personal she thought each Mando had one it was like their armor. Like armor and blade were their things and yet here were stacks of them, and rifles and holocrystals.
 
Valley of the Blades


[member="Mishel Noren"]​
No Mishel.

Huh.

Okay. She had been right there, complaining the whole way. Yes, Shia had gotten a little distracted as the feeling of the place swept over her, but... still...

Well, that... was slightly good, in that the long litany of complaints had only just about balanced out watching her cyar'ika move. But Shia would never, for a moment admit that. Nor that she'd taken some of the unsubtle comments and made mental notes. Dancing. Right.

She stuck her head back into the sun squinting against the light, then saw the kneeling figure by the small pile and walked quietly over, it seemed almost wrong to make noise right at this moment. Even though she could easily imagine the weeping and cheers resounding off the canyon walls. Death was rarely a quiet matter for Mandalorians.

There was no reverence - not precisely, as she approached the pile, just a strong radiated sense of respect.

"I remember you." She said quietly, not entirely aware she'd spoken.
 

Mishel Kryze

Guest
Valley of the Blades




[member="Shia Kryze"]
Mishel heard Shia's boots before she saw the woman's shadow approach. "There's something about this place." She said both out of respect and curiousity a stillness that seemed unnatural but also a call, a call she had heard many times during her travels. The Tygaran shifted her weight and felt the ground, terracotta colored dust brushed along the back of her hand grainy and full of grit. Mishel closed her eyes and focused on the call, and lent herself to the Force. Slowly she rose to her feet and squinted, a hand over her eyes to shield from the sun, "where in the Valley, are we exactly, Shia?" She asked her voice soft in tone, measured out carefully as her arm moved to rest by her side. There was a soft quietness to this place now, the unnatural stillness had passed and yet she could still feel and hear through the Force. The voices of the past, and then she whispered a Tygaran prayer.

"May Ashira guide the souls here," she turned to face Shia a moment. "I know you mentioned a little bit about this as we got here, but I'd like to know more about this place." It reached out like a hand motioning her toward it, like the drums of a Mandalorian War Chant it continued to beat and call. A tilt of her head as she refocused her attention, and began to walk steadily across the narrow pass. Weapons lie on either side of her footing, some ancient, others modern and the tokens of the deceased laid around the carvings. Mishel waited for Shia to answer before rushing out on the instincts that told her there was something more here in the Valley for her to look at.
 
Valley of the Blades


[member="Mishel Noren"]​
"The Taap be Tome'tayl, which translates loosely as 'places of memory' or perhaps 'places to be remembered'."

Shia matched Mishel's pace without missing a beat, their lonely footsteps the only real sounds in the valley, beneath the sorrowful serenity of the place. For once, she understood the Tygaran well, or perhaps it might be better to say she understood the Jedi well. For she thought she understood the woman, if not... everything that drove her.

She had hoped they might find common ground here on the subjects that divided so many Mandalorians from everyone else.

"You remember I said that we do not believe in an afterlife? Not as individuals. That our continuity is one of joining with the Manda. To us, the dead only remain in our memories - and as long as we remember them, they are never truly dead." She reached down to gently adjust an ancient holocrystal, so it might catch the sun better. "The truth is more complex. I've been through the Warlock Gate. I spent seven years in what Jedi and Sith alike call the Netherworld, I've touched the part of the Force that is our destination after death. I would lie if I said I understood it, but this place... I suppose you might consider it a bit like the Valley of the Jedi, or the Tombs of Korriban, but not like those places, because no one is actually buried here."

She let out a long breath as wind stirred the dust, letting the feeling of the place seep into her.

"Does that make sense?"
 

Mishel Kryze

Guest
Valley of the Blades




[member="Shia Kryze"]

Taap be Tome'tayl, places for memory.

Shia had gone over each little part of the valley with Mishel, there was such a stillness over this place. A place to remember the fallen, ancestors of ancestors each one evident with what they left behind. Beskar had been such a hard fought resource that often times they handed down their armor to the next generation. Same with the Beskad, and to retreat lose either one was an insult on many levels. Come back with your gear or on it, and so Mishel turned her head a moment to listen as Shia explained this place to her once again.

Continuity, joining the Manda. Not so unlike finding Ashira's embrace finding peace with the Great Mother and reuniting with others. This was the Eldorai teaching and in that regards she could see how Eldorai and Manda'lorians could find some common ground. "I see," she acknowledged - the Valley of the Jedi and the Tombs of Korriban were both sacred. Much like these hollowed grounds now, a soft whisper on the wind called to Mishel. Once more she swore she heard the sounds of drums, the war cries of the fallen.

"Shia, there's something here - down this way." She gestured out further down the valley somewhere between the carved stone door and a mural that they had seen before touching ground. The Tygaran tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear, "tell me I'm not going crazy and that you can hear Mandalorian war chants." Or, she was going crazy but that wouldn't be a first for Mishel.
 
Valley of the Blades


[member="Mishel Noren"]​
"I can't, but you're probably not going crazy."

Shia's reply may not have entirely been as useful or reassuring as she meant it to be, but she was a little distracted by the sense of...

... something. Neither sadness nor peace.

Tranquility? There's no tranquility in death. Although...

She sighed wistfully and turned her gaze to follow Mishel's direction, then started walking that way with a curious expression.

"People say they hear things here. Or see things. Memories of the past written into the stone of the walls. The memories of the dead are all we have to keep them with us." She tried to offer a more coherent explaination. "You're sensitive to the Force, so you probably are hearing chants, they might be funeral or war, how's your Mando'a?" She knew damn well how good Mishel's Mando'a was, given Mishel hadn't made outraged splutterings at some of her declarations, or melted. She'd prefer melted, if she was honest.

"What's down there? I don't see anything."
 

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