Private The Warmother of the Highlands

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Welcoming Committee

Ever since Clan Kryze made its triumphant return from the unexplored reaches of the Galaxy, the name of its Alor had spread far and wide, for good or ill. Some found her to be more chivalrous than any knight they'd met before; a shield to the weak and the helpless, unshakable in her devotion to the cause of righteousness... but so too did others hold her in contempt for her tendency to drag others along on fruitless ventures of vengeance and bloodshed, leaving naught but fire and death in her wake, no matter her intentions. Others, still, reviled her for turning her back on Mandalorian society as a whole, condemning what remained of the Mandalorian Enclave just as well as she did the fledgling Mandalorian Protectors - to say nothing of the ferocity shown to those who swore themselves to the cause of the Neo-Crusaders! In the eyes of many of her vode, Jenn Kryze was nothing but a pawn of the Jedi; a loathsome traitor to her own culture, committing sacrilege after sacrilege!​

​

Few were those who underestimated the woman and lived long, however, for the many titles she had come to be known by were certainly earned. Alor of Clan Kryze, Knight-Commander of Onderon, Warmother of the Mando'ade, Khan of the Crimson Glaives and Kiith-Sa of the Dunelords; many were those who had sworn loyalty to her, and together, they formed a mighty fighting force... and a great family of families. A Clan.​

​

As her notoriety grew, new warriors came to find her, seeking a place in her Clan... or to challenge her, in some cases. None had managed to defeat her yet; although their lives were forfeit, the Alor ever chose to spare them, earning the loyalty of several in the process - and the undying enmity of others, convinced as they were of the insult behind such a gesture. When a scout vessel was detected in low orbit by the Onderon military, the information was quickly relayed to the Mandalorians they had come to know as their neighbors; the identification codes broadcast by the craft when ordered to respond, however, were decidedly Mandalorian in nature... and so it was that Jenn called off the interceptors scrambled by the Onderon air force, taking the mightiest of her warriors with her to meet with the stranger at the coordinates she had provided. Ever-loyal, the Nite Owls dutifully followed...​

​

The highlands of Onderon were beautiful to behold, and so too did they make a fine home for the Mandalorians of Clan Kryze; the ground they had chosen could be easily defended thanks to the natural formation of the land, their humble village protected by a mere palisade meant to keep creatures out. The mysterious stranger, however, would easily be able to spot Mandalorians patrolling along the battlements, ever-vigilant for new threads. A few of them were already lowering their rangefinders in place to lock onto his craft, ready to shoot him down with their jetpack-mounted rockets.​

​

The designated landing point had been marked for him through the simple use of a smoke grenade, thick clouds of red streaming up towards the sky. Although the stranger was not trusted to land within the village itself, neither were they redirected towards the lowlands, as some of Jenn's advisors sought to convince her. So it was that the Alor of Clan Kryze, accompanied by ten of the legendary Nite Owls, awaited the introduction of this surprise guest...​

​

Herrel Eldar ​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Tags | Jenn Kryze

The Deep-X Explorer approached the planet without issue or offense. The two blaster cannons mounted upon it remained silent as it closed to the landing area and when as it touched down. The ship's name was visible on its side, painted in Mando'a. Atin'Galaar. Stubborn Hawk. Shortly after landing a ramp descended and its pilot walked down. If there were doubts as to the authenticity of the stranger, they were silenced, as they were clad in a full suit of authentic beskar. But in revealing themselves so too did the stranger upgrade themselves in Jenn's eyes from stranger to acquaintance. For they had met before, and he was not a figure easily forgotten. The Mandalorian stood two heads taller then Jenn, was near broad as she was tall, and his beskar lacked gauntlets and sabatons. Instead clawed fingers and toes were free to rend and maim.

"Su cuy'gar, Kryz'alor,' said Herrel of Clan Eldar.

He was armed, of course. He was Mandalorian. However, his weapons were not readied as he approached. His heavy repeater and rocket launcher were both stowed on his back. His sidearms were holstered on his hips. However, his sidearms alone were echoes of Jenn's past with the Enclave. The Type 25 "Piercers" were designed by her, after all.

Herrel's helmet's subtle turns were the only thing that betrayed his gaze. He first looked upon the palisade in the distance, upon the guards manning the walls. Then it cast over the Nite Owls before finally settling on Jenn Kryze. Herrel said, "You've built a humble settlement here. But much of import has begun with humble beginnings. In ten years from now a mighty fortress could stand here. Like that which Mandalore the Ultimate built upon Dxun." Herrel looked up to the sky at the demon moon. "There may yet be artifacts to be found in its ruins." Herrels helmet lowered again to look at the Alor. "If you could find it. If you could survive it."

Herrel turned to one of the Nite Owls and closed on them. He did not charge or ready his weapons to attack. But his approach was fast and he leaned forward to them, till his eyes were level with theirs and his helmet nearly touching. He stared at them, deeply. Intrusively, even. Then he spoke. "Their weapons are well made. Good replicas of Kryze's traditional armor. They seem well trained, well disciplined." He continued to stare into the eye slit of this random Nite Owl. A zealous intensity was in that scrutinizing graze. "But who are they?"

He broke his gaze and turned back to the Alor. "Do Nite Owls stand before me?" His head tilted to the side questioningly. "Vod?" He gestured to the palisades dismissively. "Or am I surrounded by a pack of scavengers, draped in the stolen skin of my kin by some up-jumped power hungry pretender?" His head tilted again. "Hastati, was it?"

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Welcome a Chaaj, Speak Truly

Although her composure remained beyond reproach, as one would expect of someone of her station, the Warmother found herself somewhat surprised by the identity of the giant before her. Neither of the two had ever gained the chance to truly introduce themselves to one another, but they had both spoken at the open council held in the wake of the Mandalorian Enclave's offensive into the Inner Rim of the Galactic Alliance. A successful raid, by any measure, but one that finally pushed the humble metalsmith to rise from her silent contributions to her people and renounce the Crusade. Through this act, the content smith began her journey along a different path - a journey that would eventually lead to her taking the heavy mantle of Alor for herself, draping it over her shoulder with courage and determination. When the Enclave fell upon Vandelhelm, Jenn finally saw what her vode had become; murderous brigands cloaked in false righteousness, debasing themselves further and further.​

​

Taking all of her warriors with her, she had quietly loaded all supplies she could carry from the Clan's base of operations, and left the Enclave behind for good. Alicio Organa , her prisoner, had been quietly handed back to the Alliance in exchange for a meager amount of beskar'gam; Clan Kryze then all but disappeared from the Galaxy, lurking beyond the known reaches for months, eking out a meager living as they prepared for their great exodus into the unknown. Many were those among the Clan who met such a design with ferocious protest, but they were suppressed by the fury of their Alor, cowed into submission by the sound of her voice - for it held within the crackling of thunder, and the promise of an unending storm.​

​

It took the intervention of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, the King of Alderaan, and her cherished daughter to finally convince her of the foolishness behind such a design. The realization struck her like lightning; fleeing from the Galaxy would accomplish nothing. Hiding out in hopes of one day returning as a force for change would be a gamble at best. Convinced by the desperate pleas of Varys Amun , Jenn changed her plans... and fell upon Onderon with the might of a lion, fighting alongside her former foes in the Galactic Alliance to free Onderon of the Dark Empire's hold.​

​

All that which is to say - the council held on Kestri may as well have been a lifetime ago. The woman who stood before Herrel was not the humble metalsmith who dared to speak against the direction taken by her people, but a leader in her own right; and one confident enough to all but turn her back on their people, condemning their actions openly. For all of the disappointment and enmity she held for the Enclave, however, she remained open-minded enough to give her wayward kin a chance to prove their intentions. So it was that she answered the Talz's greeting with an upnod of acknowledgement.​

​

"Su cuy'gar, Chaaj te Mandokarla", answered the Alor, marking his title just as he did hers. A small, if meaningful measure of respect.​

​

Her gaze full upon the piercers, then, and her stomach twisted itself into knots. Openly known as a friend to the Jetiise as she was, the reminder of what her creative mind had wrought was all the more painful, suddenly reminded of all the blood staining her hand through the use of her creations. The Kayatr'ade still held the schematics for her weapons; even without her blessing, they could produce as many as they liked... perhaps some models might land in the hands of the Neo-Crusaders, should they manage to court the more restless warriors of the Enclave enough. A sobering thought, and a reminder of just how completely she had thrown herself into her support of the war machine, the workload bringing things to a head and ending her relationship with Sam, her beloved little shit of a mechanic.​

​

Herrel did not leave her to bask in her regrets for long. He was a man of few words, and carried within his voice the weight of a sage; even now, she recalled his effortless recollection of the most ancient of deeds, invoking the name of Mandalore the Indomitable and his talk of the Ani'la Akaan. Today, however, saw the wise wanderer calling upon a name that all but made her sneer. Mandalore the Ultimate proved to be a particularly difficult historical figure to dissect, even for her. The last of the Taung, whose wisdom saw the transformation of Mandalorians from a species into a culture... and perhaps one of the most bloodthirsty warmonger in remembered history. Had he disapproved of the horrific actions of Cassuss Fett, she reasoned, surely he would have punished him - and Jenn would never pay homage to a leader who allowed genocide to be committed in his name.​

​

Visceral as her anger might be, her mind thought of Jonyna Si , then, and her resentment ebbed, replaced with the tender warmth of hope. If she held true to her purpose, then her legacy would be one of love, and forgiveness - not one of hatred and spite.​

​

"Time only will tell", answered the Alor laconically. "Look too far into the future, and you will only stumble and fall. I concern myself with the here, and now. A settlement suits my purpose." Her gaze followed his, then, looking up to Dxun thoughtfully. If the records were correct, then that fortress still stood. When her Y visor came to rest upon Herrel's helm once more, the weight of the Jaig Eyes etched above it was fully directed towards him. "Some things are better left in the past."​

​

Following his stride as he approached one of her Nite Owls, Jenn remained quiet, and impassible. The warrior standing before the Chaaj was shorter than most, but far from lacking in spirit, as evidenced by her answer as he questioned just who stood before him.​

​

"Fight me beskad to beskad and find out", came Karrys' answer from behind her T visor, her laid-back approach to life replaced with fierce determination in the face of such a challenge. To put her abilities into question was unthinkable; to speak in such a manner of the Alor, with whom she enjoyed a close bond of fellowship, all but demanded bloody recompense. Even then, she did nothing to draw her blade, nor her blaster; Mandalorians hardly ever brought out a weapon without the intent to use it, and she would not debase herself.​

​

"They are my Nite Owls," answered Jenn evenly, calm even in the face of such cutting words. "The greatest of my warriors, inheritors of a tradition dating back to the time of Mandalore Bo-Katan of House Kryze, whose legacy lives on through me." It was her turn to invoke the past, now, and she did so with such elegance, one might call regal.​

​

"All present here are Mando'ade, from the warriors surrounding you to those patrolling the walls. And I will suffer no insult made of the Hastati, for they have shed their blood fighting alongside us against the Neo-Crusader scum on Manaan."​

​

Herrel Eldar ​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Tags | Jenn Kryze

Herrel briefly returns his attention to Karrys before dismissing them with a hand gesture. "To kill Vod is a sin. You are a Nite Owl, know the lessons of the Sisters Kryze." His arms spread wide in a gesture encompassing all present as he said, "A sin you have perhaps all partaken in." Herrel looks at Jenn. "As you say. Blood was shed on Manaan." A clawed finger is pointed at her. "You have killed scum. Were they Vod? Did you recognize any of them, before they died?" The accusation hung silent in the air, buoyed by leaves rustling in the wind.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Talk plainly

Karrys had more to say, but a single look over at the Alor was enough for her to fall back into silence, mindful not to overstep her boundaries. Herrel's accusation earned no reaction from the Nite Owls, their visors looking his way in silence as they awaited the response of the woman whose strength of will had brought them to Onderon - The Redeemer.​

​

"Dar'vod," corrected the Alor evenly, perhaps a little dispassionately. "I can hardly say I recognized any of them, but some among my warriors did. All I know is this; they made their choice when they decided to embrace the nihilism of the Crusade, indulging in the worst excesses of our people. And when they brought the fury of the greatest warriors in the galaxy upon the weak, they became unworthy of my respect. Beneath my consideration." ​

​

Her voice was cold, now, and cutting; this was not the raging inferno of hatred that all but consumed her every thought on Manaan, but a cold fury, biting like the blizzard.​

​

"Those who prey on the weak are not strong. They are hut'uun."​

​

Herrel Eldar ​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Tags | Jenn Kryze

Herrel listened in silence to the Kryz'alor response. He did not move or twitch. There was only the wind. The grass. The trees. And the Alor's words. But once she finished his response was instant, there was barely a second that the final word left her lips before his response came.

"You will recognize them."

Herrel swept his arms out in a gesture towards Onderon. "You have rallied Clan Kryze. Much, perhaps even most, of them now stand with you." Herrel's palm cuts through the air. "But not all of them. And those once of the Enclave will be amongst the Crusaders too. Those who you sat by the tracyn with. Who you shared pirun with. Who put their vheh'yaim next to yours." Herrel points a claw at Jenn. "There will come a day when you will see the mark of your clan amongst your enemies. When someone you care about stands against you." Herrel raked his talons against his beskar, producing a horrific screech that was torture upon the ears. "And you will have to sacrifice them upon the altar of your just cause."

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Talk Plainly

It was sometimes said by the members of the Clan that when their Alor spoke, the Galaxy listened. A lyrical hyperbole, to be sure... but so too did Herrel's voice carry weight, for he was a man who spoke only when he felt it necessary. Abandoned as the Catechisms themselves were by The Redeemer and her Clan, they yet heeded the warning in the Talz's voice, as evidenced by the slightest cant of their Alor's head. Silence reigned between the priest and his unlikely audience, the horrific sound made by his claws yet echoing within their minds... when Jenn finally spoke once more, her voice carrying a downright imposing sense of majesty.​

​

"There can be no victory without sacrifice, ner'vod. This is true of the battlefield just as it is of the homefront. For this is the truth of our people; the Enclave failed. The so-called Protectors failed. The Neo-Crusaders, mighty as they are now, will fail, just as their predecessors did. For us to truly endure, then we must be ready to sacrifice blood and traditions alike."​

​

​

​

Herrel Eldar ​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Tags | Jenn Kryze

Herrel raised his arms into the air and clenches his massive hands into fists as he thrust them to the air in exultation. "Yes. Yes!" He cried out the second yes with such force his true vocalizations were audible over his helmet's translator. But the translator was well tuned, and interpreted the Talz's whistles, clicks, and snorts well. It knew how to convey his meaning. In those brief two words, Herrel was stoic no more. He was elated. Downright boisterous even as he said, "Gar suvarir ni!"

Herrel strode forward towards Jenn and placed a single talon upon her chest plate. It could have been a threatening gesture, but it wasn't. She was not pushed or shoved. But that single motion had exactly enough force behind it to make her beskar ring. Before when he had spoken at times it had been mocking, taunting, deliberately provoking. An act, shown to be blatantly false as the mummer's farce was dropped. He spoke again. There was no more act. His tone was deathly serious. "We all fail, in the end. There is no one in this galaxy who can escape Time."

He turned away and spun with his hands held high to address all gathered. "So fight!" He banged a fist against his chest plate several times, a deep booming clank. "Gar Mando! Akaanir! Gaanader gar kyr!" Herrel battered his chest plate several more times with his fists as he began to gyrate. "Akaanir! Ramaanar! Dinuir gar runi te Manda!" Herrel began to rapidly clang his bracers against each other as his sermon neared closing. "Ibac Mando!" Then the translator cut off and there was only Herrel's true voice, as he roared.

And then he was done. The change was so swift it could give whiplash. The vigor, the exuberance, the zeal. It left in an instant. Herrel straightened, as much as a Talz could at any rate, and his arms dropped to his sides. When he spoke again, it was the same normal stoic voice. And he did speak again. "An gar slanar be'chaaj. Ni jorhaa'ir Kryz'alor solus." It was a command. Strictly speaking, he did not have the authority to give it. But he nonetheless expected it to be obeyed as he turned and walked into the jungle of Onderon.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Set a fire in your heart

Herrel's sudden outburst was... decidedly unexpected. For a man of such great size, the Talz moved with remarkable speed - and yet, instead of using his skills in battle, he chose to travels across the stars to dispense his particular brand of wisdom. All the same, the Nite Owls were just as quick to lift their weapons as the towering priest came to place a talon upon their Alor's breastplate. Before they could surround the outsider and pacify him with their blasters, however, Jenn lifted a hand, stopping them dead in their tracks. ​

​

In truth, she was fascinated.​

​

When he turned towards the Alor's honor guard, they lowered their blasters, some of them sharing uncertain looks. Some were dubious, wary as they were of being led astray... but soon, Herrel's gesture was mimicked by one warrior, then another, and another - and, in the end, all within the gathering had joined him, their fists striking against their chestplate and over their hearts. ​

​

"Oya! Oya! Oya!"​

​

Rarely had an outsider garnered such a reaction from the warriors of Clan Kryze, much less the illustrious Nite Owls - to say nothing of the Alor of Clan Kryze herself. And yet, here they stood, crying out their approval, matching his roar with shouting and crying and throat singing. They would struggle, they would fight, they would win, and one day, they would fail - but they would never lay down their arms and surrender, for such was not in their nature. ​

​

Such exuberance came to an end, once Herrel's zeal was reined back in. In but a moment, they fell quiet once more, standing at attention - awaiting an order from their Alor, refusing to budge even when the priest ordered them to. It was only when Jenn gave an imperious gesture of her hand that they dared to turn their backs and head back home.​

​

"This is where the Hastati are sent for their verd'goten", voiced the Ersansyr simply as she walked alongside the Talz. If she was worried about finding herself alone with an outsider within the wilds of Onderon, she did not show it. "Most return with a trophy, as is required of them. Some perish. This is the way."​

​

​

Herrel Eldar ​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | The Jungles of Onderon
| Tags | Jenn Kryze


Herrel walked through the Onderonian jungle as he listened to Jenn. He made no effort to conceal his presence, but neither did he make a great effort of stomping around to announce it. His helmet would occasionally turn or jerk in one direction or another. In response to the sound of a twig breaking. In response to a glimpse of something hiding in the brush. Herrel gave Onderon the respect it deserve. But his piercers remained holstered. If an animal rose it claws to challenge him, it would only find Herrel's own claws in turn.

"Ibaac haar Yust. This is The Way," Herrel echoed as Jenn concluded her statement. There was a pause before he spoke again, he was thinking on what she said. Once he had thoroughly chewed on this verd'goten he gave his opinion of it. "Jate ruyota. Pirimmuy nakar'tuur." Herrel looked over his shoulder at where they came from and made a noise. It wasn't translated by his helmet's vocoder, but was audible. The talz had made some strange combination of a snort and a whistle. He said, "Hastati. Evaare. They learn now what they should have learnt as children." Though he was only 29, in this moment Herrel was the very picture of a crotchety Mandalorian elder. "Better then never learning at all," he said.

A fallen log was in the pair's way as they pushed through the dense foliage. Herrel crouched down and with relative ease sunk his claws into the wood, subsequently tossing it aside. As he did so he said, "They'll need weapons." In a move that was not especially fast, but was smooth and well practiced, Herrel drew one of his Piercers and fired it into the log he'd tossed aside. Propelling a 8 cm flechette at velocities in the thousands of meters per minute was a very loud process, as was the sound of one of those flechettes ripping through wood. Several dozen birds and insects in the nearby vicinity took flight. Something big and heavy which had been hiding in a copse of trees 20 meters behind the Mandalorians abruptly turned and fled. The flechette had ripped cleanly through the log and was now embedded deep in Onderon's earth. Herrel holstered the Piercer and said, "You should begin producing the Piercers again. Do not let shame for who you were deny you or your vod good weaponry," as he resumed walking.