White Fields (ME Mandos Only, PM to Join)

[Syoh Pa]

Orbit of Taris
Ojoster Sector
Mandalorian Empire Territory

Naasade looked out of the viewport of their ship, out into the void of space and to the world of Taris just nearby. It felt so poetic to them, here of all places. Naasade was pensive about what they had decided to do. Being in this sector, in this quadrant of space brought back so many ill memories. Their childhood as an urchin on the world so close by. The bittersweet memories of a clan that had abandoned them.

Yet here they were, ready to make the step they had so desperately wanted to take. Today was about regaining what was lost. Today was about redemption in the eyes of oversoul. Today was about being face to face with Mand'alor herself. The masked warrior took a deep sigh before turning on a holocommunication relay.

"Set it to a public frequency. Only expand it as far as the Mandalore system." Naasade commanded their helmsman.

The Gra'tua was a meager but formidable ship. A refurbished old Crusader-class corvette. Its crew as small, about 25 members. Lowlives and downtrodden from the worlds that Naasade visited. People who genuinely believed in Naasade. With a gesture from the helmsman, the warrior nodded and started their messsge.

"Greetings, Mandalore the Infernal. I am called Naasade. I come peacefully into the borders of your Empire." The disguised voice began, "I come to evoke Cin Vhetin. I was once a proud Mando'ad, and my heart --ner kar'ta-- still beats as Mandalorian."

They took a pause, seeming to collect and choose their words carefully. There was still many, mixed emotions that were stirring in their being. The masked warrior returned their gaze to the recorder.

N"In their fear and ignorance, my clan exiled me for a simple crime, but one that was most egregious at the time." They explained further, "I have situated my ship in the orbit of Taris, as I do not feel comfortable placing foot upon holy Manda'yaim yet. All I ask is but an audience with you, and shall comply to any procedures you ask."

They finished the transmission by inserting coordinates to their ship's exact position in orbit. The feed cut off and Naasade simply stared out the viewport. Now it was but a gamble to see how the Infernal responded.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Kaine Australis"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Mand’alor, word from Taris. Seems a [member="Naasade"] wishes for an audience, and... Cin Vhetin.” Tuulu chimed into Yasha’s HUD. A schematic of the Taris System, and Naasade’s exact location juxtaposed and expanded to Yasha’s position in the Defiant Mantis, her reconstructed Alor-Class ship. A crew of hundreds worked diligently around her, loyal Mando’ade on mission from Er’kit and it’s’ slaver-extinguishing clean up.

She sat back in her command chair, one hand raised to her chin to prop up the Wolf-helm upon her head.

“Give me all the intel you can on this Naasade and his shipmates. Pilot, set a course for Taris. Comms, inform Australis of the situation and see if the Warmaster might join us... Aiya... take my daughter back to our quarters.” Yasha looked down to her child Adara, playing at another of her colouring programs on her data pad. The nanny scooped her up, pausing as Adara waved and blew her mother a kiss. Yasha waved and sat back, both hands on both arms as the intel gathered began to pulse through her HUD.

By the time they reached Taris’ orbit, the small amount of intel they did have was disseminated... pity it wasn’t much.

“Open a channel to the Gra’tua.” Standing to her full armoured height, Yasha let her grey cape fall across one of her shoulders.

Tuulu nodded. It was time.

“Mand’alor the Infernal to Naasade, lower your shields and prepare to be welcomed upon my ship, the Defiant Mantis. If a shuttle is required, one will be sent. I offer you and your crew allowance to hold your position and welcome to the Mandalorian Empire’s systems. I will entreat with you. Coordinates and docking clearance transmitted. The Infernal out.” Now it was only a matter of time.

 

[H3xle]

Defiant Mantis - Training Room

Sweat beaded on Vyr's forehead, despite the cooling systems within the armor he wore. His opponent stepped in, launching a solid front stomp at Vyr's left knee. Vyr knocked the blow aside with the edge of his arm, sliding his left foot foreward in the same motion. His right hand darted forward in a palm thrust aimed at the armored chest of his opponent.

Not to be bested at the beginning of the round, Vyr's opponent pivoted, sliding her right leg behind Vyr's knee, crossing her foot in front of his rear foot. The palm thrust hit her left shoulder, giving her movement spin. She didn't try to negate it, instead let the momentum of the hit turn her and help her execute a scissoring of Vyr's left leg.

Vyr felt his balance shift precariously forward as his left leg was momentarily removed as a stable base. The attack had left his opponent open, but if he chose to attack from this position he could further compromise his leg. His other option was to follow the momentum of the attack, as she had, and gain some distance to engage on more solid footing.

In hindsight, the decision wasn't a difficult one. Vyr rolled forward, the move mildly awkward in the armor her wore, but it tore his leg free from his opponent's legs. He came out of the roll into a standing position, shifting to turn his right side forward to his opponent.

Hoping to capitalize on his back being toward her at the end of his roll, she had shot forward, aiming a kick at what would have been the back of his knee to keep him down. As he came around, he saw the attack and continued his movement, shifting his stance back slightly so her kick was glancing armor on armor. Then he reversed his movement and drove his knee up into the armored midsection of his opponent. His right arm came accross, striking her helmet with his armored elbow. She pushed away from him, hoping to gain distance again, but he grabbed her arm, swinging one leg over it and dropping his weight to pull her to the ground in an arm bar. As they came to the ground, she tried to buck away from him, but he locked his grip on her arm and slammed his left leg across her gorget and upper chest.

He then raised his hips and pulled on her arm. The armor made the move far less effective, but it ended the bout in either case. He heard the metallic sound of her hand tapping out on his leg and he released his grip and rolled back up to his feet. He reached down and helped her up.

"Three of seven, I'm getting better." He said with a grin, pulling the durasteel helm off. Training in armor was just plain good sense, but with a culture of armorers, training in your battle armor wasn't necessary. The durasteel set he wore was matched almost perfectly to his Beskar'gam weight wise, and had the same range of motions. Durasteel was also far easier to repair than Beskar.

"You are, I was expecting you to turn the other way. You had done so every time you came up from a roll this morning..." She replied, removing her helm as well, moving over to her armor stand on the side of the room.

"Something my parents tried teaching me..." Vyr began, hesitatingly. He always felt odd talking about his parents, as they were Dar'manda. "Keep things changing, but it never hurts to lead on your opponent. I decided to give it a try."

"Well, it worked this time. Good job." She said over her shoulder as she doffed her armor in quick, efficient movements. "Our next training session will be tomorrow and we will be working in armor and with blades."

"Excellent, thank you." He replied, and left the training room. In the passages between the training room and his berthing area, he noticed increased activity. His ears hadn't quite developed to be able to hear the change in pitch in the noises the ship made that told it was in motion once again.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Naasade"]​

 

[Syoh Pa]

Orbit of Taris
Ojoster Sector
Mandalorian Empire Territory

Almost immediately, Naasade got their response. The warrior heard Mand'alor's call and gestured to their helmsman. The Infernal's warship would notice that the Gra'tua lowered its shields and took a more non-aggressive formation. Naasade opened a comm to the Defiant Mantis once more.

"Naasade to Mand'alor. En route to my shuttle. ETA to your flagship, minutes." They kept things brief with the communication. Mandalore, be it the Infernal or the Ultimate, was not a person whose time was to be wasted. The warrior motioned one of the ensign-level members of their crew.

After a long walk through the Crusader-class corvette, Naasade made it to the hangar. Awaiting them was Aka'jor-class shuttle, prepped and ready. The secondary officer walked to the pilot's cockpit, and Naasade themself in a passenger's seat. The shuttle moved through space, maneuvering towards the hangar of the Defiant Mantis before settling in.

"Stay with the shuttle." Naasade said before disemarking their shuttle, onto the steps of Mand'alor's ship. Some of the Mandalorian Guards were already awaiting them. As a sign of further good faith, Naasade reached to their belt and took a hilt off their belt. Some odd form of lightsaber, but the style was similar to various Mandalorian beskade. The warrior presented it to the guards, thus handing over their only weapon. Being surrounded in formation by the Guards, the masked figure began their path to Mandalore.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Vyr Beviin"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

The Guard who took the beskad-saber glanced it over, before clipping it to another’s belt. A lightsaber was unusual for many Mando’ade, true, and just in case the Guard who had @Naasade’s saber walked off in a different direction, not to follow until the all clear.

Upon the Defiant Mantis, a massive and unique ship retrofitted from the legendary Alor-Class of Mandal Hypernautics fame, the Command Deck carried within its’ spherical design, a Ward Room built specifically for the Infernal.

Led through the ship on a tram system, Naasande and the Guards made their way from the docking bay to the Ward Room nearly two kilometres away. The room, coloured in the red and grey of the Infernal’s Clan, held instead of a throne, a wooden round table with equal chairs.

Upon one of these chairs perched an eight foot behemoth of a woman, dressed in full beskar’kandar beskar’gam and an intricate wolf-helm upon her head.

“Naasande, sit and entreat with me. Should you hunger or thirst, provisions will be brought. What is this exile that brought you and your crew to Taris instead of Manda’yaim? Tell me your story, so that I might make gauge of it.”

Was this another lost Mando’ad longing to come home? So Yasha hoped.

[member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Vyr Beviin"]

 

[Syoh Pa]

Orbit of Taris
Ojoster Sector
Mandalorian Empire Territory

Naasade took a moment to behold Mandalore the Infernal. The Amazonian woman in the guise of a wolf. There was a seeming smile under the warrior's mask."Preliat's little she-wolf, all grown." Naasade noted with a little wit."I recall the reports during the Civil War, of the little warrior who helped liberate us from darkness. Now Mand'alor. Manda, I'm getting old."

The masked warrior turned silent before nodding to the woman before them. She had her questions for Naasade, in which they would be answered. "Taris is a poetic place for me. It is a reminder of what I have risen from. Of the slums that I was born into, and the putrid life I was subject to until my Mandalorian father, the one who adopted me as his own, took me from it."

The mask looked to Yasha once more, orange t-visor seeming to stare in contemplation of what to say next. Naasade decided to join Yasha at the table, taking a seat across from the gargantuan woman now Mandalore. "Seeing that you are now a busy woman, I shall not eat up your time any further." The figure pulled back their hood, and then reached to the back of their helmet. They pressed a release button, a depressurizing hiss coming from the point of sealing around the neck. The helmet was removed, revealing Naasade's true face: that of a woman. Her hair was short, blackish-brown and wooly. Her skin was a deep brown, in some cases would remind some of the color of chocolate. Her features showed off both a robustness and a soft femininity.

"No more hiding." She revealed a strong voice, a mixture of Korun and Imperial Basic accents, "Know me, Infernal, as Chikondi. Once a daughter of Clan Rodarch." She looked to the Mand'alor with intense, dark eyes. "And my crime was that, in a time of fear and ignorance, my clan feared what the Manda blessed me." She outstretched her hand, making the helmet she wore just a few moments ago levitate. She was a force sensitive. "And accordingly, these gifts are still a crime upon great Manda'yaim. I did not want to betray Mandalore's word by setting foot there."

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Vyr Beviin"] | [member="Kaine Australis"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Do not feel too aged, @Naasade. I had help to achieve this age, sent back in time by the Aang’Ti powers of a certain Warlock, to prevent catastrophe.” Another, who remembered the reports of that war knew of the Undying’s Little Rekr. Little Wolf. They were reports of terrors committed, an animalistic child gifted beyond her years by genetics and experience in the art of killing. Many seemingly forgot in recent months, the brutality of the Infernal, when she favourited economic treaty over the petulance of war.

This Naasade spoke and stood as if upon a precipice of attempted reconciliation, another who could become vode, if only one would give her the opportunity. “Your Buir was a good man, then. Honourable to adopt a lost child. May we all rise from the slums of our origins, to become worthy entrants to Manda.”

Yet the warrior before her was a further surprise. A woman, strong like Yasha, sitting across the table. Was it jealousy beyond Yasha’s amber eyes, locked away behind her buy’ce, as Naasade put her helm to the side? Life would be far easier if Yasha’s own gender were a hidden thing, like the beauty of her face, which fetched attention both negative and allured. Alor Kvall’s words to her, draped in the desire to see her properly wed in the Mandalorian fashion scolded across Yasha’s cheeks.

None would ask such of Naasade, hidden away to live in the freedom of sexual clemency. After Chikondi removed her helm, so too did the Wolf-Helm retract from Yasha’s visage, revealing an olive skinned beauty, raven hair braided in a crown atop her freckled face. Haunting amber eyes stared at the chocolate skinned Korun before her, glad of another female in her presence, who also held strength in such high regard.

“I see. You are one of the banished, who fled Death Watch after the Undying took control.” A Force Sensitive.

“The use of them is the crime, Chikondi. Not the gifting of them. We maintain the Law of non Force Use on Mandalore at the behest of the Mando’ade, who lived in fear of another attack as we suffered under Monroe and Mereel. Yet, even my own adopted father [member="Gray Raxis"] is of the Force, as you are of it. Even my daughter… if that was your only crime, I can find no better reconciliation than this.

Come home. Be absolved of all the past’s horrors. Be welcome once again in Hall and Aliit-yaim. I can, through the Manda’s blessing, repair the past in such a way as to offer Cin Vhetin to those who wish to return and work toward the benefit of our Empire’s Vode.”

[member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Vyr Beviin"]

 

[Syoh Pa]

Chikondi's heart leapt to her chest as Yasha asked for her to return home. Tears welled in her eyes, but she soon began to wipe them away. The Korun woman smiled slightly before addressing her Panathan counterpart. "Sorry. I have awaited to hear these words for a long time." She took a moment to compose herself before a thoughtful look came upon her face once more, again trying to word herself that came with respect to whom she was speaking.

"With your permission, then, my great Mand'alor. I would like to reestablish Clan Rodarch. I have not heard much of them in what news I have caught from home in my exile." She explained simply, "If they are merely too spread out, I wish to be their beacon. If they have indeed been drawn to extinction, I wish to rebuild them. If at all possible, I wish to do so on Dxun or Phindar. I feel the most at home in the jungle."

She looked down thoughtfully at the helmet that she had worn as Naasade. She contemplated a slew of different thoughts that sprang to her mind. Memories of her time before her exile. She looked up again to her Mandalore once again. She felt like she was asking very much for someone who had just returned to the fold.

"Forgive me if I am too bold in my requests, my liege." She gave a slightly nervous sigh. "But I would also like to extend my mentorship to the children of the Manda. I can only imagine how many others there are who are blessed like I am, and who are fearful of their powers. I am not saying to create an order onto itself. No. I offer my knowledge to all clans and Mando'ade. If anything, I do not want our blessed ones to be targets for the heresies of the Jedi, Sith, or other such blasphemy. I want them to know that these gifts are tools for the Manda, and for Mandalore's glory." She took a breath. She again looked nervous, as she did not want to oversstep the gratuity of her host.

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Kaine Australis"] | [member="Vyr Beviin"]​