Faction Vindication | Open to All Mandalorians | NEO

[Hakon Fett]

“We are the culmination of everything Mandalorians once stood for and everything they now fear: success, domination, power. We, the Kyr'tsad, know what's best for our people, even though they don't know it themselves.”
– Tor Vizsla, in his first speech as the Death Watch alor to Mandalore's people.

A new age dawns upon the Mando'ade.

The sun, with its first light, casts a golden hue over Mandalore and its sister worlds—worlds of legend, of history, of warriors past and present. And into this dawn, the shunned, the bold, the resolute march. Through gates that once seemed impenetrable, closed to the heartbeats of the forgotten, they stride with purpose. These are the Crusaders—harbingers of the old ways, champions of honor drenched in the blood and glory of recent raids.

Home, they have returned, their numbers swollen with the outcasts, the overlooked, the forsaken—those who once swore allegiance to the Last Crusader, Mand'alor the Wrathful, a name that still echoes across the stars, a name that still commands respect and fear. By their side, the youth—the fiery, fearless spirits who yearn for a purpose far greater than the meager coin of a Hutt, a Senator, or even a Dark Lord. They have come to fight for something more, something that would echo through eternity.

The dawn reveals much, but with light comes shadow, and with homecoming comes challenge. These Crusaders are not alone in their return, for among the sons and daughters of Mand'alor, there are those who watch with wary eyes, whose hearts beat to a different drum. Not all will welcome this resurgence of the old ways. Not all will bend the knee to the blade of tradition. In this new age, there will be battles yet to fight, not only to restore the lands of their ancestors but to defend the very soul of Mandalore.

So revel in this moment, in the triumphant return to a homeland once thought lost. But be vigilant, for in the light of this new dawn, the shadows stir. Prepare, Crusaders, to meet those who would challenge you. Show them the unbreakable, unyielding strength of the old way, the true way. For in the heart of every Mando, the fire still burns, and in the soul of every warrior, the battle is never over. This is the way.

The Neo Crusaders return to the home of their people, bearing with them the spoils and riches of their growing crusades. Share the wealth and spread plundered bounty amongst our people and rally more to our cause, share with them your tales of honor and glory of a way once thought lost and forgotten. Light the fire anew and fill our people with vigor and hope.

The great houses and clans of Mandalore, both old and new have been invited to renew their allegiances to the people of Mandalore and honor the sacred oath they all swore in the hallowed halls of Sundari. Come to announce your support for the Crusades or lay out your grievances for all to hear so that your voice may be heard, whether you are a simple clansmen or Alor.

 

[Careena Fett]

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

| Location | Sundari, Mandalore​

| Objective | Return home​

​

The crusaders have finally returned home. Having plundered several planets from Hoylin to Mandalore, the Neo Crusaders had brought with them a renewed vigor in the hearts of their people, uniting under one banner with a singular cause. With the spoils, they returned wealth and prosperity, with their conquest they brought hope and inspiration to their people. There would be those who would resist their message and ways, but in time and with the right mindset, they would return to the fold and realize that nothing else came before their people.​

​

Careena was among the first of the Neo Crusaders to arrive, stepping off the transport followed closely by the members of her clan. It had been years since a large gathering of Fetts had set foot on Mandalore, but they had finally returned to the home of their ancestors, the Hoylin Fetts and those scattered amongst the stars united as one once more since their near extinction. They now stood amongst the most staunch supporters of the Neo Crusades, ready to dedicate their lives to its cause. She was proud of them all, and honored to be the Alor that they followed into battle.​

​

The winds of Sundari swept over her worn armor as she entered the great hallowed clan halls of the ancient city. To the credit of the Protectors, they did well in restoring their home from the ruination that was brought upon it by the Sith. For that she was grateful for their efforts, but much like the shifting sands of Sundari, so did the times. The era for rebuilding was over, the era of change and return of the crusades had arrived. They would seize their future together, all of them; a tale for generations to remember them by and a legacy shaped upon the foundations they would restore.​

​

​

Hakon Fett | Keir'las Fett | Trajan Fett​

 

[Hakon Fett]

TAGS: Careena Fett

The times, they are indeed a-changin'.

The wind swept over the domed city of Sundari, carrying with it the echoes of ages past and the promise of a future reborn. The clouds, heavy with the weight of transition, parted to reveal the orange sun—symbolic, radiant, a herald of what s to come. These are the winds of change, tearing through the skies, making way for a new dawn over his people.

The Old Ways, long whispered of in hushed tones and ancient songs, have returned to Mandalore. The path of the warrior, the crusader—the path carved into the very bedrock of Mandalorian existence—has reemerged. It is upon this path that their ancestors forged a legacy, and it is upon this path that the Mandalorian people stand today, millennia later.

And with this new dawn comes inevitable change.

Hakon Fett cast aside the familiar weight of his faithful armor. In its place, he donned the golden Neo-Crusader Field Marshal suit—a gleaming symbol of the future he envisioned. Draped across his left shoulder, a half-cape bore the sigil of Clan Fett, the sole reminder of individuality amid the uniformity of the Neo-Crusader doctrine. This was not just a change in attire; it was a declaration, a commitment to a new era.

Behind his alor, Careena Fett, Hakon marched into the great clan hall. His eyes behind the void of his visor brimmed with ambition, gazing not just to the present but far beyond, to a future shaped by the philosophy preserved by Carduul Akahl—a philosophy that had seeped into his very soul. The Neo-Crusaders, with their disciplined unity and singular focus, he believed, held the key to galactic conquest; the key to etching his name into the collective memory of the galaxy.

This was his time, their time—a time of change, of resurgence, of destiny unfolding. And as the winds continued to blow, as the sun rose higher, one thing was clear: the future of Mandalore had arrived.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Vindication
Tag(s): Zandra Ruus | @Open
Objective(s): Announce Support

It has been a long time coming. A decade of training had brought him here. Out of the ashes of Clan Bakker was Sig and Clan Dryggo. Numbers growing from the Foundlings brought in from the previous raids conducted by the Neo-Crusaders, Sig was well on his way to the glory he dreamed of achieving.

It helped having Zanrda, who was the first he had recruited and was now serving has his right hand. While still learning their ways, she was well on the path of the warrior. The path of the Mando’ade.

Standing at the bridge of his ship he took a deep but triumphant breath. Their birthright. For the first time in what seemed like forever, the true children of Mandalore had reclaimed the land that belonged to only them. M9 stood in the corner beside the door, his usual spot, with Zandra elsewhere on the ship likely tending to one of the many menial tasks a starfighter needs to function.

“Home,” Sig stated proudly, “Take us down, there’s a gathering of the clans who are pledging their support; the rest of Clan Dryggo should be there already.”

He turned and left the bridge knowing the command would be followed. Entering into the conference room directly outside the bridge, he pressed his finger firmly on the intercom button. “Zandra,” he announced sternly, “Ready yourself for landing.”

A few minutes later they had landed not far from where Sig’s clan was waiting for him. Marching with his small but growing clan in tow, Sig couldn’t help but let a genuine smile fall upon his face.

As they entered the great clan hall he saw Careena Fett , Hakon Fett , and the rest of Clan Fett ahead of them. He wasn’t surprised, after all it was Clan Fett that let out the initial call.

They made it. Mandalore. Their home reclaimed. Sig knew this was only the start. The Crusade, his Crusade, was only beginning.
​

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
MANDALORIAN NEO-CRUSADERS
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Keir'las Fett

THE MOMENT​

Enter, pursued by a memory. Home, once perhaps. The image of Concordia and Manda'yaim had long lost its luster in Trajan's mind the longer he'd spent away. Though, when he reclaimed his armor, his name, his purpose, his face and true identity, he felt that ethereal call back to the motherland. It was a sick beast, Mandalore, long punished, burned, glassed and torched. It had shifted hands in the past half century, defiled clutch in the Sith yoke before it was returned to the Sons of Mandalore in vassalage to the Empire. Since? Passed between various Mandalorian pretenders before they finally welcomed the Crusade home as liberators.

From the ramp of his Saxon-class Patrol Craft, Trajan set foot unto Mandalore again, chests of credits, liberated Beskar and material wealth pilfered from his time in the Galactic periphery as a bounty hunter and hired killer. Though many reclaimed the visage of the Neo-Crusader, Trajan would not abandon his roots. The armor would remain as it was, as it was donned by Volker Fett, his blood father and Trajan Kurze, his name sake. The very same who had who had crusaded to the very moment of his death in the hopes of seeing a free Mandalore. Each of them would've looked on with pride and veneration to bare witness to this. But neither was there to drink in the opportunity. Only Trajan Fett. In that, he struck a fresh coat of crimson where it resided on the armor to pay homage to those who wielded it before.

All his further taskings would be devoted to the war chest, to the further cause of his people. There was no wayward struggle to reclaim any identity any more. It was not to be found in the trenches in service to another man's army. It was not to be found in service to the higher bidder. No, there was one oath to which he swore allegiance now. To the Crusade, to the Mando'ade.

He joined his kin in returning to the Clan Hall, his eyes scrawling over it beneath the visor of his helmet before he finally spoke.

<"Our forefathers shed their blood in an oath to live this day...they put forth every fiber to see it done...and here we are, walking the path they paved for us. Nothing can be lost in this moment...they would all look unto with pride. But still, the work is hardly done."> Fett remarked.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

R E T U R N E D
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Sig Dryggo | Trajan Fett​

Sundari. Where countless battles, both foreign and internal, has been fought.

Attached to his poleaxe, this time, was a banner bearing the sigil of the Neo-Crusaders, emblazoned with dull gold and crimson red highlights. A skull, encircled by the symbol of life and death’s tireless cycle. It waved and billowed in the winds of the desolate lands, boots kicking up the dust of cracked soil and ravaged battlefields. Until it eventually passed through those rusted and war-torn gates.

The Rally Master had marched at the head of his troops in formation - a slow, deliberate one. Most of his de-facto clan adorned in uniform, seemingly ancient armor meant to signal their unity, their resolve, winding through the streets of the once-great capital towards their eventual destination. Secluded away on Dxun, they had not been home for ages - and they, like Clan Fett, were among the first to disembark from the Raider Fleet. Some of them were unsure if they would ever see it again, let alone for a purpose like this. Trailing behind their little convoy was one of the many crates of kolto stolen from Manaan. This one in particular his sect had fought, bled, and died for in the face of a wayward splinter of a Clan - surrounded on all sides, and still emerging with heads raised high.

How many wasted away on this world, hoping for change that would not come without action? The Protectors had bought their people peace, content with them rotting away. And rot they did; Rodarch’s death over Manaan was just a mercy killing. The Viper would stand for it no longer. He was not a cruel-hearted man, especially not for his people. Their triumphs would be the triumph of all Mando’ade, and so his men had passed out medical supplies as needed along the way to any who requested them. After the collapse of the previous governance, it was not as if anyone else was maintaining supplies.

“My brothers and sisters!” He proclaimed aloud, an arm gesturing wide to the crowds he passed by as they trekked their way through. “Take heart, for the old ways return!” Heralding a new age, a new destiny for those that languish here. Those who were with the newfound Crusade would show these lost Mando’ade what it took to create change, and invigorate more to uptake their cause. “Let the bellows of the war-forges be heard once more! Take up arms, for we march to glory for all of our people!”

His armor and visor cracked and bloodied, but unbroken. Scarred, but proud. More and more had slowly joined their cause, forsaken old and symbols in favor of new ones. The visor glinted in the light of Mandalore’s sun, as Carduul’s head tilted upwards as if to bask in it for but a moment in passing. Moments like these were what he fought for.

And when they reached their destination, the halls where clans have come together for millenia, he came to a halt in his marching. Tilting to face the men and women who followed him;

“MANDALORIANS!”

The banner thrust high into the air above his helm, held in a clenched fist.

“WE ARE HOME!”​

Fists raised from the uniform-armored Mandalorians following him, with a resounding series of cacophonous cheering. Some in Mandalorian, some in basic. All eventually culminating into one ideal. The restoration of their people, their culture, to its rightful place. To rekindle the fires long forgotten.

“FOR MANDALORE! FOR MANDALORE! FOR MANDALORE!”
“PAR MANDA’YAIM! PAR MANDA’YAIM! PAR MANDA’YAIM!”​

This will be a day long remembered. They will make sure of that.

---

It wouldn’t be long after that, he had stepped into the ancient halls to join the rest of the brave-hearted that had fought in this crusade. A nod in turn, to the gathering of Clan Fett - a touch of pride felt, as he noticed the brilliant golden armor reminiscent of an ancestor long past, now present on Hakon Fett . He knew providing the schematics to the ancient armor would be helpful, sooner or later. A nod, towards Clan Dryggo, where Sig Dryggo and his growing clan lay prepared to unleash their wrath. More would join them, soon enough.

“The work is hardly done, indeed.” Came the agreeance to Trajan Fett , the ardent Son of Mandalore. The banner set down with a metallic thud against the stone foundation. “But we have made it past the most difficult stage of this crusade. Now we are the beginnings of a true movement, one that shall rekindle hope in our scattered people. It is time we begin the true war. It is here we shall decide what lies next in store,”

Gaze swept across to each of the individuals in the room, with his words spoken with that same steadfast resolve and pride in his voice. In the fact they were standing here, how far they had come. “And in it, we shall see where our people stand.”

 

[Karima Fett]

​

Karima...

Had never cared much for war, really. It was, as Mandalore the Avenger infamously called it, all too boring. All that waiting in between battles, going from one place to the next to strike out against some poor suckers who didn't hold the shadow of a chance against the mightiest warriors in the Galaxy - it didn't quite catch her attention. So, while the rest of the aliit put the fear of the Mando'ade back in the hearts of the aruetii, she honored the proud lineage they were issued from in a different way.

Bounty hunting was as noble a profession as it was lucrative, and a fine way to craft one's legend. Flippant and arrogant as she could be, Karima looked to those who yet lived in legend with clear awe... and not a little envy, too. Ever-insatiable, she longed to outdo even those honored ancestors with her deeds, and see her legacy written in the blood of her enemies.

In this, the Crusaders were not too dissimilar from her.

Perhaps that was why she showed her face in the Clan hall... or, perhaps, there yet remained a ferocious note of respect for Careena, whose vision far outstripped her own. No matter what may come, her loyalty had always been, and would always be to the aliit. Cocksure and derisive as she could be at times, the one-eyed bounty hunter stood ready to fight and die alongside her kin.

Among such a gathering, she looked - right out of place, in truth. Hers was a simplistic design, in spite of her flair; a traditional T visor, and unpainted beskar that yet glimmered in the light. Some pieces were, ostensibly, mixed in with durasteel out of practicality - but some, like her helmet and shoulderpad, were pure. A testament to the many battles fought to claim what was hers by right. Looking about with naked curiosity, the hunter's eyes lingered on those archaic designs the Crusaders chose to adorn themselves with.

Resting a hand on the leather of her gun belt lazily, the hunter finally spoke, her voice an unhurried drawl.

"Ain't this just a regular old family reunion." Her one good eye went from one Fett to another, allowing herself a smirk at the realization that her people were claiming more glory than any other Clan in service to the Crusade. "Looks like you've got it all figured out, vode."

Smug as ever.

 

[Kalðr Ísbjørn]

---

The newest reemergence of the "Neo-Crusaders" had finally returned to Mandalore. Kalðr did not see the point of the name. It had been used before, but he did not see why anyone should call themselves "new" crusaders. Crusaders were crusaders. It had been done many, many times. It was not really new, just a new iteration. Still, the frost-armored Mandalorian had been looking forward to meeting his brethren.

Upon arriving to Sundari from Keldabe, he was met by boisterous and cheering Mando'ade. The flame of Crusade was indeed spreading, uniting more and more of them. Some may have seen these Crusades as a bad thing, but Kalðr could see the good in it. Mandalorians were uniting, for the first time truly in a long time. He knew that not everyone would follow, but it was something. He was not sure himself if he would personally participate. He was still finding his own place. But he held respect for any brother or sister who held firm to the Resol'nare. Beyond that, how they chose to live was their own business.

But this... Kalðr had always been a bit of a recluse, having grown up in a tiny clan isolated on the harsh frozen world of Hoth. But the tales his father and grandfather had regaled him with were the first thing that came to mind upon seeing his people gathered here.

Kalðr entered the halls, his snow bear cloak keeping the chill from his armor contained. Imitating to the best of his ability the voice his father used to use, he spoke to those inside. "Su cuy'gar, Vode! Welcome home. I am Kalðr Ísbjørn. The Protectors have left following the... unfortunate incident with someone who does not deserve the honor of even being named. I wish they had stayed to be able to welcome you all, but I guess you will have to settle for me." The hulking man gave his best smile. "And I repeat: Welcome Home."

---

TAGS: OPEN

 

[Cyran Vaas]

​

Location: Sundari, Mandalore
Objective: See what all the hype is about

Cyran would take it upon himself to be something of a token representative for the clan he called his own. Also he wanted to see culture's fabled homeland. The zeltron had never seen Mandalore and by extension Sundari as well. He never had the time to afford such a vacation for himself. Now he felt as though he could say he was here for business at least. He wouldn’t be expecting to see many if any others from Clan Awaud.

Eventually Cyran entered the large hall along with many many others. His shiny polished black armor glimmered some, showing off a subtle pink iridescent shine where the light hits it at the right angle. Despite being a mandalorian for many healthy years now, being around so many others still always felt odd for the freelancer. But at least they all had spirit and passion for what they did. As a zeltron who fed off the emotions of those around it certainly got his heart pumping. Their excitement was contagious for him.

But he wasn’t a soldier, he wasn’t fighting a war. He was a bounty hunter, a contractor, a mercenary, and a specialist. From his understanding Clan Awaud was keeping things nice and professional with this Neo-Cursade. Cyran would prefer things stay that way and that the clan keep its distance from all this. Its relative isolation and non-interventionist way of doing things kept it safe all these years. While others burned hot and bright like a sun ready to go supernova. Clan Awaud kept its cool like a red dwarf, trudging along and persisting through the ages at a steady pace. ​

 

[Kyran Thaln]

KYRAN THALN
[Character Biography]

The Great Hall of Sundari, Mandalore.
​

Kyran Thaln strode upon the great hall alongside other members of the Neo Crusaders, his helm lifting as he cast his eyes for the first time upon the gilded halls of their ancestors, a place of great significance previously only foretold in the stories that his Ward, Nyda Saxon had told him during their years together.

This was the first time that Thaln had stepped foot upon Mandalore. He had often considered it, dreamed of it. Yet, without a clan to call his own, nor having earned his signet, Thaln had not felt he had the right until now.

Sig Dryggo had brought Thaln to meet with the Neo Crusaders following their colourful meeting on Naboo. Dryggo seemed to speak Thaln's language, as there was little room for misinterpretation when one spoke with their fists. The sunlit Mando'ade had impressed upon Thaln a respectable image, and for his invitation into the Crusaders, Thaln had silently confirmed an ally in the other man.

Where he had previously been an independent Hunter, he stood now as one among many. A part of his people, a part of a cause that stood at the peak of Mandalorian pride and honour. To renew the strength and vigour of their kind. To restore Mandalore to the state and reputation once feared by all peoples across the Galaxy. Thaln had committed himself to this cause, ready to fight and kill those who chose to stand in their way.

Thaln presently had little quality to his name save for what he knew he was capable of. He had captured bounties in the Outer Rim Territories to survive, to get by and pay his way while honing his craft, yet there were no great triumphs that he had achieved, no stories worth a song. In good time, he intended on seeing this corrected.

With the Neo Crusaders and the conviction of every mando'ade carried within him, Thaln would look ahead with the ambition to see his name known across the Galaxy as a formidable warrior and a void that held the respect and honour of their people.

Hakon Fett | Careena Fett | Sig Dryggo | Trajan Fett | Carduul Akahl | Karima Fett | Kalðr Ísbjørn | Cyran Vaas​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

He felt it in his blood, in his soul.

Weakness.
​

Doubt.​

​

Discordance.

The pursuit of vanity over glory, over honor.
​

The pursuit of a false equality.​

The Jetii, the Dar'Jetii, their schemes, their lies.

The old wounds.

The old grudges, the old wars amongst brothers and sisters.

They were washed away.
​

Washed away, by the blood of their enemies. By those who stood against the might of the Mandalorian Crusaders. The ones who had dared to rise against, and had prevailed. Feydrik was one of the first to answer the call- a man who had not known purpose outside of violence for sport. Now, he waged war not for himself, for prize money, or for fame, no- Feydrik waged war for his people.

Feydrik listened intently, watching and listening as they marched through, more men and women, brothers all- than he had ever seen in his life in one place, cheering, raving. Gone was the doubt, the diffusion, the in-fighting. It was replaced only by what was to be done, their task ahead:

Make known the Mandalorian name, through blood and fire.

He stood proudly, watching the Old Ways come back in force. He could feel it in every single one gathered around him. He had never felt more loved, more belonging, more pride. He did not feel the impending trial of in-fighting. He felt a cohesion like nothing else. Feydrik looked up, streamers and banners of clans unfurling as they made their way through Sundari.

Streamers and banners of clans long-since forgotten, some to the annals of history, some by their own choice.

But they had returned.

They had come home.

He looked over as Carduul set the banner of the Crusaders down, and Feydrik could not help but walk over to it, bask in it for a moment. It was glorious, it was purposeful. He looked down, averting his gaze, feeling, somewhat unworthy. But he looked around, at each gathered Mandalorian. Feydrik stood tall, hearing Carduul propose the next phase of their plan, their purpose, their destiny-

Their Crusade.

He spoke in response to Carduul's statement.

"We stand together."

I'm not tagging you all but you're all tagged.

 

[Kaiyra Munin]

VINDICATION
Manda'yaim

WE_ARE_WARRIORS
​

Kaiyra Munin had never stepped foot on the homeworld of the Mandalorians until this moment due to the infamous Red Coronation. Her life and many others had been irreparably changed that fateful day. Would today those involved be exonerated?

Clan Munin along with several other clans were exiled from Mandalorian space by the newly installed Mand'alor of the time. Then, those clans shortly after forged the Sons of Mandalore and contracted with the New Imperial Order.

The Akaan's daughter grew up in Imperial space on Echoy'la at Ijaat Taylir "Honor's Hold" and on Krieg at the Munin Stronghold at the edge of the Brightlands where she passed her verd'goten.

Sometime after that, the clan returned from exile and reclaimed her father's lands on Concord Dawn in the northwestern region of the northern continent known as the Aka Jatr "Mission Valley"; the location of the Munin homestead. By the time of their return, Mandalore as her mother Briika Munin knew it did not exist, hence another reason not to visit.

But this day, there was the hope of a new beginning - a cin vhetin. It was palpable.

Kaiyra with great anticipation strolled through the ornate doors and entered the Great Hall of Sundari wearing her red and black beskar'gam that had been cleaned and spiffed up from the last raid. A black cape draped over her left shoulder with the blood-red Clan Munin sigil giving the woman a more formal appearance for she was the acting clan chieftain in her father's stead as Vilaz Munin and her younger brother Adenn Munin were bounty hunting presently.

She stopped before the members of Clan Fett and motioned for her clansmen to bring forth a large chest that rattled as if it were full of coins. The two warriors set it down, then retook their place behind her.

<"The Gods have seen fit to bring us all together, united in destiny and one purpose. Please accept this offering as a sign of Clan Munin's pledge of loyalty to the crusade.">

And with that said, Kaiyra gave a respectful nod of her helmeted head to Careena Fett , the Alor of the clan, then turned on booted-heel to take her place among the crowd of fellow Mandalorians gathered.

____________

Open to interaction
​

 

[Yael Kandar]

VINDICATION

~All the roads lead to Manda’yaim~

OBJECTIVE: observe the arrival of the Neo-Crusaders
TAG: Open

Spoiler: THEME

SUNDARI, MANDA’YAIM

Yael Kandar had settled in Sundari for months, in the barely rebuilt Civic Center area, near the Living Water. Ever since she emerged from the Dunes of Tatooine, she had submerged herself in Sundari’s daily life. It wasn’t hard for her and her recovery stage; there wasn’t much violent conflicts here, just political. She spiels of the Old Gods, of Kad Ha’rangir primarily, although it’s Hod Ha’ran she emulates her action after. And it works, she has amassed a number of followers, mostly in the grassroots, but there are a few influential figures that have started to embrace her faith.

The warrior-priest with a burning auburn hair was once a catalyst of her own crusade. Young, wild, and passionate, she rallied the elders of her Enclave to launch a grand offensive against the Galactic Alliance. It was a glorious campaign, for a moment; blazing glory of destructions on her tails, terrors in the eyes of the enemies. They were set to free themselves from one chain of two.

Until they weren’t. Where did it go wrong? It was their own subjects who caused chaos amidst the Enclave territory. A war that was lost at home pains her more than anything. It wasn’t the blade of their enemies that had stopped them, but the words and discord within their own people. And what did it cost her?

“But trust me when I tell you, Yael... there's a line on that road you don't wanna cross." She reached out and rested her hand on the girl's. "That road only leads to damnation if you can't temper that fire. I lost my clan, friends, my body... my mind... I would've lost my life too if it wasn't for my husband and Runi." She spoke softly, taking another long sip.

She looked around for a few seconds as a gentle smile formed. "It's good to have a home."

Shai herself; leaving her son, Yuri Maji a vengeful orphan. Her clan; for she can’t face them after what her failed crusade has cost her people. Her love, Gailen Keldau; for her inability to accept that her happiness doesn’t have to be attached to some grand mission, and her allergies to commitment that’s not her zeal for her people. Her home; how could she call Kestri a home, when all she had done was bring misery to its people?

For months Yael had pondered; was the crusade a mistake, or was it an error in her methods. Months of meditation in the Living Water, months of discussing Mandalore; the land, the people, and the faith, with clerics in Sundari, Keldabe, and even beyond. All while a horn is blown, a new crusade in the horizon. One headed by the Fett, the Neo-Crusaders. And today they have arrived in Manda’yaim.

Entering the Clan Hall, draped in full Beskar’gam, as the sole representative of Clan Kandar, Yael watched warily as new faces, and some old ones, are pouring into the huge, majestic room. Visionaries, zealots, opportunists, all gathered under one roof.

Where are they going to drive discussion towards? What can she offer to them, if she finds their position agreeable, and disposition tolerable. She looks at the Fetts; Hakon Fett , Careena Fett , and Trajan Fett , studying how they interact with one another, and how people interact with them.

Some people come to offer their muscles, their fighting prowess, one that she hasn’t regained amidst her recovery. The Munin had offered their wealth, one that Yael had lost. What can she offer, then? Her brain? She is capable, not remarkable. What she has is wisdom, however young she is, she already lost everything once. And she has found the reason; you cannot control people with strength, with fear, with violence. It’s very easy to lit a fire of rebellion amidst an oppressed populace.

What they need is faith. If people believe in your cause, they will be willing to die for you. And a faith of a higher being that embraces the atomic value of a group is the most effective one to drag your cause up to a level of divinity. It just happens that Yael is the Chosen of Ha’rangir. It’s true what the Gods whispered to her in her dream; All the roads lead to Manda’yaim.​

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Ninurta stood at the threshold of the Great Clan Hall in Sundari, the capital of Mandalore, where the cheers of his vode echoed like distant thunder. His brothers and sisters in arms—scarred, battle-hardened, and draped in the glory of their crusades—filled the hall with tales of conquest, their voices rising in songs of victory. The heavy Beskar'gam they wore clinked with the weight of trophies, each mark a testament to their campaigns across the galaxy.

The wide expanse of the hall, with its austere stone walls and the oppressive glow of Sundari's artificial sky overhead, seemed more foreign to Ninurta than it should have. Mandalore, the cradle of his very creed, should have stirred some primal sense of belonging. Instead, it felt distant, cold, as if the planet itself had turned its gaze away from him.

In truth, It reminded him of Falleen. The world he had once called home, with its own cold beauty and the weight of forgotten memories. The arid plains, the sterile architecture, the scent of dry winds—Mandalore whispered the same hollow indifference that Falleen had once whispered to him long ago.

He moved through the crowd of celebrating Mandalorians like a shadow, his face obscured behind his T-shaped visor, hiding his detachment. His armor was severly damaged from a previous battle and shared encounter with a Gorax. Entire pieces crushed, bent or other wise missing. The various trophies that covered the once proud hunter were covered in dirt and grime. A hunt Sig Dryggo accompanied and could tell in spades.

It was clear the Falleen had not yet fully recovered from the fight.

He nodded to his comrades, clasped forearms with those who approached, shared in their boasts briefly, but each gesture felt mechanical. His heart was elsewhere, in the wilds of Dxun or the jungles of Kashyyyk, places where the soil beneath his feet was alive with danger, where he could feel the pulse of the hunt. This place, with its banners of war and calls to honor, was too still, too structured for the beast within him to stir.


Tags: Hakon Fett Trajan Fett Careena Fett Yael Kandar Carduul Akahl Kaiyra Munin Gaanla Munin Feydrik Munin Kyran Thaln Cyran Vaas Karima Fett

 

[Careena Fett]

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

| Location | Sundari, Mandalore​

| Objective | Return home​

​

The great halls were filled with Mandalorians, young and old, a grand sight to behold as members of each clan and individuals arrived with the rise and return of the crusaders. A smile crept across Careena's concealed face, a gentle warmth stirring in her chest. For the first time in a long time, it was like she was reminded of the hearth of home, a bittersweet and nostalgic memory that she thought lost to time, returned to her mind and heart once more. This was their home, and she didn't mean it in the sense of just hers and those present, but all Mandalorians scattered across the Galaxy.

Clan Fett settled in amongst the hall as everyone assembled, Careena turning to her family as she spoke, nodding to Karima Fett who had managed to find her way home as well, <"It's good to see you alive and well Karima, it has been far too long. As Trajan has said, there is still much to be done and discussed. We have only just begun."> And indeed there was much to be done, they were far from fully figured out; there was still much to decide upon in the coming cycles. But for now, it was a time for celebration and reunification, a time to remind every Mandalorian present of their roots and to honor the past as they move forward together into the future.

Her attention turned to Kalðr Ísbjørn who welcomed the crusaders on behalf of the Protectors who formerly preserved the peace amongst their home worlds. While she lamented that they were not all here to acknowledge their return, she still was honored by the welcome by those who remained, <"You honor us with your words Ísbjørn. The Protectors have done us the honor of preserving our home to return to, and for that we are eternally grateful. They have upheld their sacred oath to protect our home, and it is my hope to see them continue to protect it from all those who would ever wish to bring harm upon it. We of the Neo Crusades do not come as conquerors who quash our people, but those who herald a new dawn. The Protectors served during a time where our home needed it, now we serve during a time where our people need it.">

Her gaze shifted to Kaiyra Munin who approached her with an offering before returning her own bow of respect, though she addressed the young Munin, <"These offerings and boons are for our people. They are not to be offered to me nor to just any one clan. We honor those living and dead by fighting on in their stead and preserving their memories through our own lives. We pay these offerings to benefit all; whether it be in riches or our service. For Mandalore!"> She raised her fist in the air as she let the cry for their people be heard.

[ I love you all, but there are too many of you to tag. ]

 

[Keir'las Fett]

| Location	Sundari, Mandalore
| Objective	Chill tf out
| Focus	All over the place and yet out of place
| Tags	Careena Fett

​

Keir'las Fett stood at the periphery of the great clan hall in Sundari, her lean frame a stark contrast to the sea of armored Mandalorians flooding into the ancient space. Her coal black eyes darted from face to face, drinking in every detail of this momentous occasion. The air thrummed with an energy she couldn't quite place – excitement, tension, or perhaps a mix of both. As Careena and the other Fetts made their entrance, Keir felt a swell of pride tinged with an undercurrent of unease. This was her clan now, these were her people, yet the nagging feeling of being an outsider persisted. She watched as Careena strode confidently into the great halls, her presence commanding respect from all who saw her. Her gaze swept across the gathering, taking in the diverse array of Mandalorians. Hakon Fett in his golden Neo-Crusader Field Marshal suit, a symbol of the future they were forging. Sig Dryggo and his growing clan, ready to unleash their wrath upon the galaxy. Trajan Fett, the ardent Son of Mandalore, his armor a testament to their proud lineage. Carduul Akahl, the Rally Master, his banner held high as a rallying cry for their people. Keir's eyes lingered on Karima Fett, the one-eyed bounty hunter whose cocksure demeanor seemed at odds with the gravity of the moment. Yet, Keir could sense the underlying loyalty that bound them all together. As Kalðr Ísbjørn welcomed them home and Kaiyra Munin presented her clan's offering, Keir felt a surge of emotion. This was what it meant to be Mandalorian. When Careena spoke, her words resonating through the hall, Keir found herself nodding imperceptibly. This wasn't about individual glory or clan superiority. This was about the future of all Mandalorians. As the cheers erupted around her, Keir remained still, her mottled dark black and silver armor blending into the shadows. She didn't join in the loud celebrations, but a sense of belonging washed over her nonetheless. Her eyes found Careena's visor across the room and she gave a small nod of appreciation. Keir'las Fett may not have been born to this life, but she had chosen it.

 

[Hakon Fett]

DIRECT TAG: Keir'las Fett
INDIRECT TAGS: EVERYONE ELSE MAN WE ARE A LOT

Composed, yes. Aloof, perhaps. But as the triumphant return to their ancestral home unfolded, even he, Hakon Fett, could not escape the stirring of emotion that now burned within him. His brethren—their hearts ablaze, warriors in spirit, warriors in flesh—were alight with a fire that no force in the galaxy could extinguish. An unstoppable wildfire, and Hakon could do nothing but revel in its heat.

The cheers, the battle cries—echoing through the grand hall, through the very bones of Mandalore. But he remained silent, a figure looming in the background of his Alor. Careena Fett, wise and steady, her words tempered in the forge of experience. She, the gray eminence as the aruetii would call her, was the balance to the flames that burned brighter in others. Where hostility ran rampant, where old wounds festered, her wisdom cooled tempers, soothed animosity. Hakon understood it well. The rage of those who sought to return Mandalore to its roots, to its ancient glories—their frustration was his own. But Careena, she played a different game, one of guile and foresight, where patience often triumphed over fury.

But in Hakon's heart, the old ways—the Crusader's ways—ran deep. He shared the sentiments of those around him, men like Dryggo, whose blood boiled at the mere thought of those who refused to honor the return to tradition. He felt the same anger, the same disdain for those who stood in the way of the Crusade, of his ambitions. Whether they wore Mandalorian armor or not mattered little. It was simple, it was clear. They would bend, or they would break. There was no middle ground.

And yet, this very simplicity, this raw power, was why he stood in the shadows, and why Careena led. She, who had guided Clan Fett through trials that would have shattered others, she, whose intellect was as sharp as her blade. But Hakon? Hakon was not made for such things. He was not made to lead in the halls of diplomacy. He was an architect, one who would not be restrained by dogma to achieve his vision. And as his eyes wandered, they fell upon one of his own—Keir'las Fett.

An idea sparked in his mind, something primal, something deeply Mandalorian. Keir'las, the adopted warrior, stood in the shadows, much like himself. But today, Hakon would bring her into the light. For though tradition was not always his closest ally, it was in moments like these that it called to him, urged him to act.

He moved through the throng of Clan Fett until his hand fell upon the symbol of his people—a sashimono, resting on a repulsorlift, the sigil of Fett painted upon it. With purpose, he approached Keir'las, stepping behind her, the banner in tow.

"During your verd'goten," he began, "you learned who we are." And with that, he reached for her armor, finding the hidden compartment that had remained dormant until now. "The aruetii believe that blood is the strongest bond." his hands adjusted the fitting, preparing it to bear the weight of the banner. "But blood," he continued, "can be shed. Until there is nothing left." With a final motion, he raised the sashimono high, the Fett sigil catching the light. "This... this is why we are superior to them–"

And as the banner was placed with a resounding thud, the moment settled. The quiet weight of history rested upon them both. "--the knot that binds us cannot be untangled. It cannot be cut." Hakon declared, his voice rising with conviction, "We cannot be killed."

It was a role of immense honor, to bear the flag of one's clan. Normally, this was bestowed by the Alor. But today, Hakon took that right for himself, certain Careena would approve. Tomorrow, their Alor may relinquish that role until the right time comes for Keir'las but today...

…Today, they stood as clans, separate yet united in purpose. But tomorrow—tomorrow—they would stand as one. Tomorrow, the galaxy would tremble beneath the weight of Mandalore, united, indomitable. The ouroboros and the mythosaur, locked in an eternal cycle, a fist of iron prepared to crush the stars.

 

[Karima Fett]

​

They were a family.

The Crusade and its great promises held little sway over the bounty hunter, for she had ever been a flippant warrior, deeming long-winded speeches a waste of her time. What use had she for grand causes? Even now, she looked upon the more uniform of the Crusaders with derision, holding her tongue solely out of respect for her ori'vod. They could go go about chest-thumping and proselytizing for all she cared - all that mattered was the safety of those she looked upon so fondly. They were bound by something far greater than mere blood, and even an arrogant glory-seeker like herself found herself gently awed by it.

"I wasn't going to let you take all the glory for yourself, ori'vod!" came the bounty hunter's joyous answer to Careena Fett 's words, her voice so very full of life. The words that followed, however, held... the slightest touch of gravity - as much as someone like her could muster. "You've always steered us right, ner'vod. I prefer the intimacy of a good hunt to your glorious raids, but if this is where the aliit goes, then I will follow."

There were faces she did not recognize yet, but acknowledged nonetheless. Feeling Keir'las Fett 's gaze resting upon her, the one-eyed warrior shot her a light-hearted (and, as ever, somewhat flippant) two-finger salute - a habit she'd picked up during her time with the Mandalorian Enclave. A way for her to infuriate the more rigid of her people whilst also showing her laid-back approach to life, when she found herself off the field. A dark beskar'gam, for a sibling hiding in the shadows... that stirred her curiosity. Making a note to introduce herself later, she followed Careena's as sonorously as she could, showoff that she was. Or, perhaps, merely looking to show her commitment, in spite of how her demeanor clashed with such an official gathering.

"For Mandalore!"

She almost pitied those brave or foolish enough to stand in their path - a family made whole.

Almost.

After all, why should a hunter concern themselves with the opinion of their prey?

 

[Carduul Akahl]

R E T U R N E D
Careena Fett | Hakon Fett | Sig Dryggo | Trajan Fett | Karima Fett | Kalðr Ísbjørn | Cyran Vaas | Kyran Thaln | Feydrik Munin | Kaiyra Munin | Yael Kandar | Ninurta Slaabur'r​

A firm nod was given in return to Feydrik Munin ; the inclination of a small smile that could not be helped beneath his helm as he bore the banner forth into the Clan Hall. Men like his were those who understood the need for this crusade - to unite their peoples once more, through whatever means necessary. “So shall we be evermore.” Was a softer reply, one that symbolized one of the grand hopes of the Neo-Crusaders.

People from all walks and clans had come. Bounty Hunters, Mercenaries, those who simply never knew when to quit. It was their hearts, their souls, that had urged them to return - if nothing else, sheer curiosity. All knew their origins, and most knew what the Neo-Crusaders intended to do. Alas, much of their grand intent had been muddled with lesser purposes. They would set that right.

Carduul’s gaze tilted to the welcoming sight of Kalðr Ísbjørn , “Su cuy’gar.” Came the greeting in kind, not long after others. “Welcomes from any of our kin is a pleasant sight, vod.” Though he paused at the mention of the Protectors. He wondered how many of them had stayed behind, if any at all. Perhaps some were yet in the gathering crowd. The same could be said for remnants of The Enclave, who had embraced their way too late to make a difference, and gone in a blaze of glory.

“Careena speaks truly. I believe many of our number can commend the Protectors for their stewardship of this once-hallowed land, and The Enclave before them for the safeguarding of our people. But now is a time for action. There is no point in rebuilding a land that is yet besieged on all sides, within and without.” He decreed, in agreement with the aforementioned woman. His hand cast aside, splaying wide as if to indicate the magnitude of their foe, only to clench his hand into a fist with his next declaration; “Only when we ensure its safety forevermore, can we turn our efforts to such.”

The Rally Master had peered with intrigue at the approach of Kaiyra Munin , agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment expressed by Clan Fett's Alor. Carduul was not exactly an admirer of wealth; but he could not deny its usages. The only use it would be put towards would be furthering their people. “‘Tis good to see the work of Mand’alor the Unsung continued.” He offered in turn, in as gracious a manner a Mandalorian could muster. “I know of thy efforts. The service Clan Munin has rendered to work much like this before, and the sacrifices made for its people. Know it has been, and shall be for righteous cause. Thy names will never be forgotten from the annals of our history.”

He had sauntered back across the room, a declaration spoken clearly for all to hear.

“Manda’yaim is our ancestral home. But make no mistake. When we are finished, all the galaxy shall be home to Mando’ade.”

As he halted towards the head of the halls, he turned about, with a visored gaze resting upon the growing crowd of various clans, allegiances, purpose. Behind those helmets laid so many expressions - disdain, hope, curiosity. In this, his following words rang out in the great halls.

“Today we stand, heralds of a new dawn. Harbingers of war. Many decry us selfish, as glory-hounds seeking little more than a cheap thrill. As a cult enslaved to mindless tenets.”

Carduul allowed his words to hang in the air for a bit longer to sink in. His free hand placed to his chest, over where his heart would lay.

“I refute this claim, for our collective goal is simple: to fight and to die for our people, in hopes we may unite and usher them to the glory they deserve. To see them saved from the rot of Arasuum that has perpetrated even here by honeyed words and unforgivable massacres.”

The armored gauntlet pointed forwards, across to the assorted group of steel and soul.

“Be you bounty hunter, wayward warrior, or a recluse Mandalorian, let it be known that there are brothers and sisters fighting for thee - and they are all gathered in this very room. Too long, we have abided by poisonous words. Too long, we have waited for a brighter future, for a righteous vengeance, that never came. No longer. We shall wrench our future from the grasp of those who seek to take it from under our watch. We shall extract a due in blood from those who have tried to wipe us out from the galaxy forevermore.”

The butt end of his banner thudded once more against the stone foundation of the hall, rhythmically in time with Hakon Fett 's banner and Careena's raising of her fist to the air. Rallying cry sounded out to join the rest once more; “For Mandalore!”

 

[Keir'las Fett]

| Location	Sundari, Mandalore
| Objective	Find the closest strong drink
| Focus	What is that ?
| Tags	Hakon Fett & anyone eavesdropping

​

As Hakon Fett approached, Keir'las found herself studying the man intently. Despite being part of Clan Fett, she realized how little she truly knew about him. His suit gleamed in the light of the great hall, a stark contrast to her own mottled dark armor. She had observed him before, always in the background, a looming presence behind Careena. His silence and composure had always struck her as deliberate, calculated - much like her own, but for different reasons, she suspected. Keir tensed imperceptibly as Hakon drew near. She had noted his intensity, the fire that seemed to burn just beneath the surface of his controlled exterior. It was a stark contrast to Careena's measured wisdom, and Keir found herself both intrigued and wary. When Hakon began to speak, Keir's eyes darted around the room, suddenly aware of a few curious gazes shifting towards them. The weight of those gazes pressed upon her, and she fought the urge to shrink back into the shadows. The emotions in the room crashed over her like a tidal wave - pride, excitement, anticipation - threatening to overwhelm. As Hakon's hands found the hidden compartment in her armor, Keir's breath caught in her throat. The significance of the moment wasn't lost on her, but the sudden spotlight made her heart race. When the sashimono was secured to her armor, she felt a conflicting surge of pride and discomfort. Hakon's voice rose, declaring the unbreakable bond of their clan. Despite her discomfort with the attention, the weight of the banner on her back filled Keir with a sense of belonging she had long yearned for. She stood straighter, her chin lifting slightly, even as she struggled to process the intensity of the moment and Hakon's unexpected actions. When Hakon finished speaking, Keir remained silent for a moment, struggling to find words. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but steady: "Vor entye, Hakon," she murmured, the reply carrying the weight of her gratitude. Her eyes, usually sharp and observant, were softer now, betraying a hint of the emotion she felt; as always she was thankful it was concealed. "You speak of a knot that cannot be untangled, a bond that cannot be cut. I... I understand this now, more than ever." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "The aruetii may not understand, but we are more than blood. We are conviction, we are purpose." Her voice grew slightly stronger, though it remained low enough for only Hakon to hear. "I may not have been born to this life, but I choose it, again and again." Keir didn't make a grand speech or draw further attention to herself. Instead, she gave a single, firm nod to Hakon, her posture straightening under the weight of the banner. "I will strive to be worthy of the trust you've placed in me." As the Mandalorians returned their attention to the larger gathering, Keir took a deep breath, steadying herself. She remained where she was, the banner of Clan Fett now a part of her silhouette. Her mind, however, was racing, reassessing what she thought she knew about Hakon Fett and her place within the clan.

Keir'las caught Karima Fett 's two-finger salute from across the hall, her keen eyes not missing the playful gesture. For a brief moment, the corner of her mouth twitched upward in the ghost of a smile, hidden beneath her helmet. The contrast between Karima's demeanor and the gravity of the gathering wasn't lost on Keir. She gave an exaggerated bow of her head in return, keeping the exchange playful. As Karima's voice joined the others, Keir remained silent, but her posture straightened slightly. The weight of the banner on her back felt a little lighter, knowing that even among the diverse personalities of Clan Fett, there was a place for her quieter presence.