Faction Tome'tayl (Mandalorian Union)

[Eliz Krayt]

Remember.

Since the fall of the United Clans of Mandalore, the survivors have had constant battle and hardship. The betrayal of the Sith lead to the near destruction of their people. Genocide of any who dared to call themselves Mandalorian. Seeking out and destroying anything that connected to their past. The survivors banded together. Reformed. Became the Mandalorian Union and fought. Reclaimed Mandalore. Carved out their hold in the Galaxy once more to tell their enemies that they were not dead or defeated. War still looms over them. Surrounded by betrayers and enemies have forced the Mando'ade to never let their guard down and fight.

On the edge of where Mandalore had been stripped mined by the Sith and whole countries destroyed, the memorials were made. Black Onyx slabs etched with the name of every fallen. These slabs were numerous, far too many for how many were lost. These memorials stood to the land lost. The people lost. And a promise. They would rebuild, they would grow once more. They would get justice.

But that was for tomorrow. Today, millions gathered on the edge from all clans. Today they were all family, and they would grieve for those lost.

Today was the day of Tome'tayl.

Eliz stood with many of the others. With his father. With his sister. But they weren't there for him. His gaze was focused on a single name within the long list. Beth Cadera. Killed early in the invasions that tore the United Clans asunder. How was he to handle this? How could he grieve for someone who was little more than a stranger? No, that's not what he grieved. The tears welled in the corner of his eyes as he stared at the name of the woman who had brought him into this galaxy.

The boy grieved for the fact he would never know his mother.

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai stood clad in her heavy armour in front of the massive wall containing the names of all Mandalorians lost in recent history. She sympathized with the others gathered to see the monument, knowing how it felt to lose friends and family. But the majority of the names were meaningless to her. The names that truly meant something were also scattered all over the place. But she looked for each and every one of them. She wanted to at least pay them all respect even when clan Loc didn't mean all that much to the rest. Right now she was in front of a surprisingly convenient spot containing a little cluster of names.

The first was her friend, Nira. She and the woman would always tease and joke around, sometimes even wrestle after one too many drinks. The others were the names of the children lost in the massacre. Her little kiddies. They weren't at all related... but it felt like they were. She looked out for them, taught them a few skills that a kid would likely never have a need for, played with them and even snuck out in the dead of night to go raid the food hall for midnight snacks. She loved them all. And now she would never get to see them grow up. She would never get to see them earn their armour and chase their dreams. She would never get to see Zerin and Brina confess their feelings to each other, she would never see Garn get to learn how to forge, she would never see any of that. Her helmet was clipped to her belt, showing her face and the grief in her eyes. Her hand reached out and brushed over the names as she muttered a soft apology to them and then turned to look for more. Along the way she passed a familiar blue friend and gave a faint smile to him and his kids, but she said nothing.

She reached a spot with a few more names and did the same to them. It was impossible to forget the wonderful moments she had with these people. She wanted vengeance for their deaths. She wanted to tear each and every Death Watch traitor's throat out and watch the life drain from their eyes. She didn't care what it took from her but she would see it happen.

But that was tomorrow's fight. Today there was no anger or hatred. There was only grief and pleasant memories. She hoped Kragr Krayt would also be coming but she understood if he didn't. It took a lot from her as well to get to where she was standing now.

 

[Ki'an Vizsla]

It was one's duty to fight and even die for Mandalore but the knowledge that those who laid down their lives did so willingly did little to soften the blow of grief to all who knew them. It was little consolation to those who were now left orphans or parents who were left childless to know their loved ones died fighting for a cause they believed in when so many others had not suffered the way they had. It was through pure luck that many had survived to stand where they were today but some owed their lives to others who were no longer standing beside them. It was a bittersweet day as their friends and allies were now gone but their deaths were not in vain.

Ki'an stood with his helmet resting against his hip, scanning the names on the slabs in front of him, his eyes lingering on a few familiar names. One name stood out in particular and he was dawned on by immediate sadness. He recalled meeting the woman as she lay on the battlefield dying from her injuries while any efforts he made to save her were futile. She gave her life for the freedom her people now enjoyed and all present would forever be in her debt, along with the hundreds and thousands of others who made the same sacrifice.

While the medic had not lost anyone close to him in the battle, he had been witness to deaths that would remain with him for the rest of his days. He would never forget the names of those he had been with as they left the world and nor would be allow anyone else to. The Mandalorian fell to one knee in front of one of the slates in both a sign of gratitude and respect. His gaze was towards the floor as he reflected on the deaths that would shape their future. Being half-Morellian, he expected to see many tragedies in his time but he hoped there would never be another like this.

 

[Venku Bralor]

The sky was clear, the air dry and hot and void of any moisture. It felt right. In his bones, where the gritty sands and ever present burning sun of the desert resided, etched into his very being as a tesiment to his childhood, he knew that this was right.

He had been all over the galaxy, but he knew one thing. Drilled into him from years of living in the desert. Water was precious, and when the sky opened up and water drizzled to the ground, you celebrated. It felt right, to stand beneath the scorching heat of the sun, staring down at the slab of black stone before him.

It wasn’t a special stone, only one among thousands, but it was his. In a way so intrinsically personal that he couldn’t explain it if he wanted to. Around him was silence. The voice of the dead, the silence of a noonday desert, all heavy heat and tired grief.

The stone is smooth beneath his hands, the names, written in Mando’a are hollow under his fingers, a perfect match to the emptiness of his heart, the aching pain of a fresh wound torn bigger. The names are hollow under his hands, and as the sky beats down on his head, Venku begins to speak.

“Ni su'cuyi,” he says as the first tears begin to fall. The desert child in him warns him not to cry. Water is precious and crying is a waste of water. “gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” A clawed and calloused hand traces the first of the names, tears staining the stone around it. “Aburk Bralor,” his father, strong and kind, always willing to talk and the one to show him the ways to track in the shifting landscape of the desert. He can still remember his last words, spoken with foreheads pressed together as Venku leaves to board his ship. “I love you.” He’d said, with so much feeling he knew that the man would be smiling, a proud look in his eyes, beneath the helm. And Venku had repeated it, and promised to tell him of his journeys when he returned. “Ni ceta,” he whispers, throat tight with grief.

There is silence around him, and the sun beats down on his head as Venku traces the second name. “Anil Bralor” the words lodge in his throat, his oldest sister, a Mirialan with yellow green skin and diamond tattoos on her forehead, a testament to her species' culture. She, along with his oldest brother, had heeded the call and came to protect mandalore against the sith. They had died in the battle. He had never been close to them as a kid, but he had always looked up to Anil, a childhood hero.

The sky is clear and Venku’s legs hurt from standing. Slowly, he lets himself settle on the ground. The next two names slip past his lips with a hiccuped sob, barely above a whisper. “Ikuk, Akul” the twins, while appearing identical, were so very different. Ikuk had enjoyed the quiet nights of the desert, and the feeling of freedom that came with a jetpack. Akul had loved the unknown of the treacherous caverns and could spend hours exploring their depths. They had been some of his closest friends, and when he was older there had always been some prank war or another going on between them.

The dusty earth was solid beneath his feet, and Venku’s fingers hesitated over the empty space, the spot where one last name should have reside. His tears were falling in force now, slipping off the unmarked stone. “Riil” the name, whispered like a prayer, quiet as the desert wind and as sacred as the Resol’nare. His last brother, his favorite brother. How long had they spent exploring the caverns and hunting the small rodents around their home, how often had they teamed up against the twins in the ever escalating prank wars or wrestled in the sand? His favorite brother, the one who lived. The one who was truly dead, lost from his culture and his family and vowed to destroy it all. His brother, who deserved the honor of this wall but would never receive the chance. The one who had tried to kill him.

The one he had almost killed.​

Golden eyes welled with tears “Ni ceta, ori’vod.” He whispered, forehead pressed against the cool stone, his back slumped as he weeped for those he lost. His shoulders shake with a heavy sigh as Venku closes the litany. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” He lapses into silence, tears falling from his eyes as he grieves for his family, for the loss of everything he held dear. He cried, and he cried and he cried until his quite tears turned into bone rattling gasps between sobs as he presses his head into onyx stone. Clawed fingers dug at the earth as Venku screamed his grief and anger and regret into the world. He screamed and he cried and his shoulders shook and shuddered with each strangled breath and he sounded so much like a dying krayt that had he heard it in the desert he would have avoided the area for miles. Everyone knows dying krayts can be twice as deadly as healthy ones, when their blood bleeds slowly and they are left thrashing in pain, destroying the desert around them and crushing any unlucky soul to be passing by. And still he screams and he cries until his throat is ragged and he cannot scream past the pain and his eyes are dry, devoid of any tears yet still so heavy, itching with phantom drops they wish to spill. Still he shakes from silent, painful, sobs.
For the memory, for chances lost, and words left unsaid. For the death of everything he once knew and all consuming lonely emptiness that grew with each shuddering breath.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin stood in silence before one of the numerous stones. One of the far too numerous stones. He rested his hand one the one before him, idly tracing a few of the names with his left hand. When he had first come to the site, he had thought that he might be able to memorize all the names. He felt he had an obligation to do so, as he had led many of the most recent names on the pillars to their end. After a few hours of effort though, he had been forced to concede that it was an impossible task for him.

There were far too many.

The Sith, the Jedi, the Confederacy, and many others all had hands in the volume of names present today, and each one would be made to answer n time. Today however was not a time for vengeance. It was not a day for promises made to a potential future, or a glorious vow to make their foes remember their names. Today was the day for remembrance, and only the dead had a right to celebrate.

"Hail to the Victorious Dead..."

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

So...so many stones
So many lost to regain what was their birthright
Many would rest eternally on their homeworld once more
While the living had to go on

For the old mandalorian, it was a sight she hated to see, it wasn't just the stones but the reminder that she herself had lost so much. Most of her family had perish and scattered leaving her and cynthia to keep on their mandalorian culture and while yes she had more family the ones who brought her in had perish or scattered. Her fet felt like heavy weights as she moved slowly over towards a set of stones and fell to one knee and looked over the names, many from her clan, many that were family.

cadera, solus, if only I could've been wiser and not have followed that idiot...maybe then many of you would be by my side. Maybe had I been there when the Sith came down on our planet the first time many of you wouldn't be resting, but I cannot change the past, nor will I ever. Our fates are not prewritten, but when the time has come and the gavel has fallen and the time for our price to be paid has come, only then do we know just how much we'd pay....rest my vod, I'll handle the rest

She finally managed to get herself to stand, glancing over to Eliz Krayt one of the twins of her niece that would never get to see their mother...star slowly made her way over to the young one and placed a hand with such gentleness

she was a good woman, brave as ever

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Eliz wiped away the numerous tears falling from his eyes. Again and again. But as quickly as they were wiped away they returned to streak down his cheeks. He was thirteen, old enough to take his Verd'goten and become an adult in his peoples eyes, but he was never more of a child who missed his mother as he was now. The touch of Stardust Solus Skirae brought him back from this, if only for a moment. His watering eyes stared up at the Twi'lek, at first not understanding what she meant.

It hit him like a freight train when it did finally click. This woman knew his mother. So many people knew his mother. His face twisted with the agony of this realization as his tears truly began to soak his cheeks, and he cried.

 

[Shai Maji]

Screaming. Crying. As Shai turned her head she saw the broken people gathered to mourn just like her. She understood their pain. She wanted to let go just like them. To scream up at the heavens and let it all out. But she had no power to do so. As she looked back to the names carved into the stone she gave another sniff as tears started to roll down her cheeks. With her hand on the last names she came to see she muttered her final apology and rose to her feet. She couldn't deny that she was tired of crying. She was tired of feeling empty and robbed of her happiness. But she knew she couldn't forget their names. She wouldn't dare stop mourning their deaths. Otherwise they would die again. She didn't want that.

She rose to her feet and wiped at her eyes as she wandered through the crowd of people. For a brief moment she wanted to look for another name... but then realization hit her. That name wouldn't be in the stone. Ruun Maji wouldn't be here. She wanted to voice her frustration but she knew it would be unfair. He was never a Mandalorian. He was a pirate, a dreg of society. A simple mutt who died in one of the most ludicrous ways possible. They had no reason to place his name between these. She calmed herself with the promise that she would save a moment for her father after she was done here. That would be a moment for her and her mom. She continued to walk through the crowds, passing a few familiar faces. Their Mand'alor, Venku, a few others as well. But she kept walking. Finally she came to a halt beside Cleru and what seemed to be his family as well as Star. "Hey." she greeted them softly as she gave them both a faint smile. Her gaze drifted down to the boy crying his eyes out.

She wanted to hug him and comfort him but she held back. She could feel her own tears welling up again but she fought the feeling. She didn't know him at all or who he lost... but seeing him cry hit a spot in her heart that was already being strained on this day. "I'll... see you guys around." she said to Star and Cleru. "If you wanna maybe have a drink later or something, feel free to hit me up." she offered them as she tried to give them a warm smile. It likely wasn't what they wanted to hear but it felt like something she needed to offer them. With a weak two-fingered salute she turned and slowly started the walk back to her ship as her tears welled up again. She hated funerals.

Stardust Solus Skirae Eliz Krayt Venku Bralor Kreslin Westwind