Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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To The Birds

Hra'nadetr Jair'Galaar. Creatures of great strength and power: ones who shared the name of Corrin's famed uncle Galaar. They were fearsome beasts, with talons able to cut through durasteel like butter, beaks that could shred beskar, and the temperament to be truly monstrous. Any Mando'ade with the stones to try and hunt the monsters would earn some clout. For a young warrior to try and tame the creatures? Unheard of.

Of course, Corrin would not do this alone. He'd sent out a message to his kin, [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], in hopes of having a bit of help. He would have simply gone to Kurs'tay'lir for assistance, but he was not yet ready to reveal himself to the clan once again. They needed a leader, a man worthy of his father's legacy. Corrin was not ready yet, but his time would come soon enough. He just needed to prove himself here to show that he had the heart of a Mandalorian: the soul of a Mandalore.

His camp was a small one housed within a small valley two klicks from the Tal'verda fortress. The season's heavy snowfall had just begun, freezing the lakes and making big game scarce. Now was the time that the great snow wolves began their hunt. They had often been spotted prowling around the Tal'verda homesteads, waiting for a young child to venture to far from the fort's safety. Recently, they'd given the settlement a wide berth. The wolves hunted alongside the Tal'verda these days, and both groups benefited from the alliance.

Corrin was troubled to explain how this worked, but he wasn't going to question a good thing. He lay back against one of the ancient trees, and allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of the campfire. Night was fast approaching; a time when these great beasts would return to their nests for the evening. Corrin had found a group of three the day before. Their nest was not very far from where he'd made camp, both a boon and a curse. He was downwind of them for now, but if the wind shifted, he was going to have a very bad evening.

Breathing a quiet sigh, the Tal'verda kinsmen ran a hand through his short brown hair, and ran his fingers along the helmet in his lap. Where was Kix?

[member="Ijaat Akun"]
 
Ijaat smiled, walking into the launch bay of the patrol class ship as it hovered over the coordinates sent to him. The young man who had sent them to him he wasn't terribly familiar with, but Kix had approached him with the mission, and he had consented to provide the transport to Mandalore to meet the young man. However, at first he wasn't at first going to participate in this errand, until he had heard the backstory to it. A process of trials to prove the young man's worth, to himself and his family. It was something that struck a chord with the old soldier, and so as they broke atmosphere, he had appeared.

For once, he hadn't dressed in the new armor he had forged for the Alliance. Or any armor at all, actually. He had dressed simply in his 'going out gear', warden cloak draped around his shoulders like a poncho, his hat cocked to one side, sword belted to his hip, shotgun on a scabbard on his back, pistol at his thighs in a bodo-bass gunbelt, and crushgauntlets gleaming on his hands. This was, perhaps for some, heavily armored. For Ijaat this was practically casual and almost naked really, and he nodded as the hatch began to open and he stepped out, smoke wreathing his head from a lit cigarra. The nod was towards the ramp, to indicate to Kix they should disembark.

"Come on kid, lets go."

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"] | [member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
 

Kix Tal'Verda

Kixi - Tal'Verda Aliit'buir - Cereal Box Clone
Kid? Kid... Call me kid again.

Kix frowned slightly at being refered to as a 'kid'. After all, he was a thirty-nine year man who had fought in countless battles across dozens of worlds with hundreds of soldiers under his command at points. "I'm not a kid." The clone stated as his duraplast boots thudded down the ramp in the drolling, monotonous tone of a drilled soldier. It seemed that even on a mission to help a long lost relative he carried that banner like a stoic old guard.

Kix, like always, was clad in the archaic Katarn Commando-Armor that had made his ancestors so famous. It was white and azure blue with a red fox on the right shoulder and a swooping hawk on the right. Various belts, weapon netting, an his deece were strapped to him. His helmet was off and under his shoulder to reveal his freshly shaven Fett face!

"Hey... Corrin. We're here, get your shebs to our position."

He then glanced down at the smelly animal: Lord Cabur who had lazily meandered his way down the ramp. The stink-weasel looked up at its master, closed its drooling maw, and tilted his head.

"He's bad with punctuality, huh?"

It chripped and then rubbed itself against his legs like an overgrown cat.

[member="Ijaat Akun"] [member="Corrin Tal'verda"]
 
He heard the ship before he saw it.

It was a massive thing, unlike anything one would see near Kurs'taylir. The Tal'verda village was generally a quiet place, save for the times when the clan came out to do its business. Large ships like that rarely made an appearance. The young man couldn't help but whistle in admiration as the vessel touched down. Then his kin's voice came garbling through the comm, and he began to make his way through the snow.

He was clad in the trappings of his people. A great white fur cloak hung heavy from his shoulders and dragged behind him in the snow. His beskar chest piece was covered in the brown furs of the native Uxi beasts. His lower half was clad in armored plating, and enshrouded in the grand white cloak. An archaic lightsaber that seemed to be made of wood hung from his belt -- a trophy, and heirloom, not something Corrin ever relied on in combat. His Deece was slung lazily across his back, and his helmet hung from a strap on his belt.

It was easy to recognize the young lord of the Tal'verda lands, even in his armor. The great fur cloak was one of legend: the pelt of a monstrous white wolf alpha the locals had come to call Ri'kan. Corrin and his younger sister had managed to befriend the intelligent animal as children. When he'd died of old age, Corrin had asked for his pelt to be recovered, so that he might always carry a piece of his friend with him.

The Tal'verda were all about symbolism.

He strode up and clasped Kix's hand in his, jammed his shoulder against the clone's, and threw his arms around the larger man. "Hey there ner'vod," he sounded quite pleased to see his brother, "It's good to see you. Really good." With a tug, he relinquished his hold on the older man, and turned toward [member="Ijaat Akun"].

"Su cuy. You wouldn't happen to be Kix'ika's newest flame, would you?" The youth snickered. He was a man now, quickly coming up on his twenty-third birthday, but he could not help but poke a bit of childish fun at the stranger. His smile was bright, that of a boy who'd been spared the horrors of the galaxy. His eyes though, they were azure fire. Determination and an understanding far too adult stared back at the duo.

He could see the scars on Ijaat's face, the ones hidden beneath the skin. This was a man of iron, of forged steel. [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] was something familiar; a brother since birth, family. The two of them would prove to be more than helpful in the coming conflict, Corrin was sure.
 
Smirking, the man in the heavy poncho merely pulled a fresh cigarra from the folds of the garment, adjusting the hat brim just so and leveling his head against the wind, a battered lighter of brass, practically an antique, flicked open and the smell of old-fashioned petrol wafted from it as he lit the fragant cancer-stick and puffed merrily at it, glancing about with a twisted look, shaking his head a bit as the two greeted one another. Youth, in its own way, never changed he supposed. Even as old and jaded as he felt, it never did. After a brief look, the wanderer shook his head.

"Hardly, the poor lad needed a lift from Sullust, and I haven't been home in a few months, so I figured i'd drop by. Even at my age home has a certain nostalgia...You sure picked a cheerful spot, I bet winter is positively comfy."

With that, he would wave at the ship, a droid within noticing the signal and closing the departure ramp without a single response. He really did have to admit, the Z6 series were amazing, even if he did go a little long between memory wipes and let them get a little quirky. It gave him someone to talk to during those really long times out in the black, and he admitted, he got lonely really. So was part of his reason to come here... Word was there was a mighty version of the shriek-hawk roaming these parts, and he had a mind to take one in, small enough to raise and tame. That's what normal lonely people did, right? They got pets, yeah?

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"] | [member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
 

Kix Tal'Verda

Kixi - Tal'Verda Aliit'buir - Cereal Box Clone
"We picked this place because of the winters." Kix stated almost instantly in response to Ijaat. His brown eyes surveying the region around him as he did so. "Good to be home", the Clone mused to himself. It was good to see Corrin here, but something was still missing. Calico was still missing and the homefront would never be the same without the old codger growling obscenities at the children and rambling off about the Clone Wars. It further resolved Kix's own quest, one he was sure Corrin could aid him with. Corrin needed his own help first though.

"Are you sure this a good idea, Co'ika? The Hra'nadetr Jair'Galaar are nothing to be tifled with. One took a whole pod the spring before you were born." There was a worried expression that crossed his face for the briefest of moments as he stared at his brother. Kix had helped care for Corrin since the lad was a baby and he'd rather not see his time, affection, and clanblood shredded to ribbons by a very angry bird that could be just as easily avoided.

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]
 
"Ever the better to prove our worth. Kurs'taylir needs a bit of a boost, these creatures will do nicely."

Corrin made a little circle in the air with his finger. "Name's Corrin old timer. You want to come with me? Kix here can flank around, make sure none of the hatchlings run off." He gave the older man a thin lipped smile. He did not know [member="Ijaat Akun"] -- the Tal'verda didn't venture far from their snowbound home. Those that did became legends: generals, war heroes, lords of entire worlds; there was a reason the rest of the Mando'ade gave their winter home a wide berth. That went both ways though. Mandalore fell into further disarray -- led by this council of clans, an affront to tradition -- and the Tal'verda fell further from the limelight. Their word had weight once. Few stood by their traditional mindset these days.

Mandalore was changing into what Corrin could only compare to the Republic. Bureaucracy, aristocrats, and old men sitting on their laurels. That was not to say the spirit was gone; Mandalore still hosted the galaxy's greatest warrior. They just didn't fight the battles they needed to. There was no glory in border skirmishes, raids, or the annexation of peaceful worlds. There were greater threats in this galaxy -- ones worthy enough to face the Mandalorian war machine. For some odd reason, they were being ignored.

It had been his father's wish to see Mandalore returned to glory. Corrin would make it so, even if some blood needed to be spilled to bring it about.

"They're majestic creatures, and it's not our place to kill them if we don't need to. I just want some of the eggs, maybe a few of the hatchlings. They will make war mounts to rival even the basilisk war droids."

[member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
 

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