The Clan Halls

[Kiro]

+Mandalore+​

Far to the north on Mandalore's central continent, on the northern coast, is an area known as the Norg Basin. A geological formation created millions of years ago by an asteroid crashing into the planet. Within this basin, upon a hill, stands an ancient, impenetrable, indomitable, and vast fortress known as Norg Bral. The ancestral home of Clan Bralor.

This first thing that strikes one when entering the Bralor karyai would be the intense scents of spices, roasting meat, and potent alcohol. For there is always food and drink within this inner sanctum, for there are always warriors coming and going, at every hour of the day. There are always hungry warriors in need of food. There are several long tables, capable of seating several warriors lining the sides of the hall. The centre of the room contains a massive firepit, where food can be prepared, or simply for the comfort and primal feel of a roaring fire.

While a place for feasting, celebrating, and living with one's Aliit, your clan, your family, your identity, the walls are covered in every kind of weapon ever concieved. From simple hold-out blasters, charrics, verpine sniper rifles, and Trandoshan heavy repeaters to beskade, vibroswords, shockwhips, and mythosaur axes, they are all there.

And littered across the hall are the trophies of the warriors that forms the extended family known as Bralor. Skulls, hides, claws, horns, talons. Helmets. Weapons resting in display cases. Yet the most impressive trophy within the hall is a skull. A krayt dragon skull, suspended from the roof, it's empty eye sockets glaring down towards the entrance like some angry deity protecting it's inner temple.

This, is the hall of the Bralors.

 

[Kiro]

Seated at a table, stripping a blaster, a bowl of gi dumplings and a mug of ne'tra gal on either side of the cloth containing the parts of the weapon and the cleaning tools, Carien stares up at the skull of a massive acklay bull. The beast had clearly been dead for at least a century, perhaps two, yet the redhead still eyed it as if it was to spring back to life and attack her. She almost felt like the thing was -grinning- at her.

"Grin all you want you kriffing chakaar... I'm not the skull mounted on a wall." She grunts, putting the trigger down on the cloth, before plucking a dumpling from the soup and popping it into her mouth, chewing on the savoury fish and wiping her hands. With her fingers wiped clean, she starts reassembling the blaster. Though she occasionally glances up to the skull with yet another mutter or comment.

 

[MoreThanSane]

"'Twas a beautiful beast, that."

Ram Bralor stood at the table's edge, gazing at the Acklay's skull, mouth twisted slightly in a sad smile. "A vod who'd never seen Manda'yaim, yet was every bit the Mando as you or I." He shook his head. "A truly beautiful beast."

His large brown eyes flicked from the skull to the Mandalorian woman seated half a meter from him. He gave his own bowl of dumplings a tap with a gloved finger, producing a soft ding. The dish was almost humorously small in his giant hands. "I hope you don't mind company," he said, sliding into a seat opposite her. His armor clacked against the wood as he maneuvered his massive form between table and seat. "One can only consume this kind of delight," he forked a dumpling and held it up, "alone for so long."

He popped the thing into his mouth and then smiled sheepishly as if only just remembering his manners. "Forgive me. I'm Ram Bralor."

 

[Kiro]

As the big man walked into the karyai and spoke, Carien raised her eyes from her weapon to Ram's face, frowning slightly, trying to place that face and that voice in her memory. He was clearly Mandalorian, his armour and his accent proved that, at least. And he was from the outlying farm areas of the Norg basin. And his name certainly gave evidence to that, sharing the same surname as her, and several other members of the aliit.

"Tion'gar... Parjai bal Xana's ad'ike, 'lek?" She asks, peering over at the big man as he takes a seat opposite her, while pushing the bowl of soup and dumplings between them and gesturing for him to help himself to the food, before bending sideways to see if he'd taken off his boots when entering the karyai. It was a very firmly held social convention to remove one's boots before entering the karyai, wether you were a guest, in your own, or even the Mand'alor.

"Yeah, I remember you now. Ram'ika. I'm Carien, also Bralor." The redhead grins, the scar on the left side of her face twisting it into something eerie. "Your family used to take refuge in Norg Bral in the winter. You used to run around with a wood-carved toy blaster and play 'Hunt the shautal' with the rest of the younger kids. At least until dinner-time." Her grin grows wider as she returns to assembling her blaster, attaching the gas canister and screwing the barrel back onto the weapon.

"You were the one whom picked the Quesh contract, yeah? After your verd'goten? That place was a mess..."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Elek," he nodded, pleased that the older woman recognized him. He hadn't been the most visible of Mando'ade over the last years. "You've an excellent memory. Quesh was a most challenging experience, though. I've vode who'd have killed for a chance at that contract. And a buir who was prepared to kill me for choosing that contract." He chuckled, remembering his mother's face as if it were yesterday. It wasn't yesterday, though. That had been over ten years ago. It was amazing how fast time went by, and how much one could lose in such a small span.

His thoughts flashed to Mandalore, his home at that time; the forests, the farms, Norg Bral itself. Such a beautiful place, and now it was bid jate bid dar, as good as gone. He sighed, knowing that his emotions were undoubtedly playing across his face like a holovid screen. No matter how hard he tried to control his body language it always failed.

He popped another dumpling into his mouth to hide his embarrassment, as Carien was surely wondering what had set off the reaction. He forced a smile. "So Roon's not bad, right? Pretty rocks, at least."

 

[Kiro]

"Vor'e. And eh, we've all been in deep osik, ner vod. We've all lost someone close to us. And we all remember our first time. You should have seen my first contract. We were hired to go to Alzoc three. A bunch of hut'uunla chakaare from offworld had captured their mines. So the local Talz had hired us to clean them out, and secure the mines. We lost half a squad when a bunch of suicidal pirates decided to blow an entire shaft rather than face us in a clean fight, or surrender." She shakes her head and picks another fish dumpling from the soup, and bites it in half. "I'll never understand auretiise."

"Roon? It's where the Taung wrote the Canons of Honour, which is one of the cornerstones of our culture." The elder Bralor replies as she continues assembling the gun, working the casing back in place, tightening the bolts. "And there's good hunting here on roon. Bantha, mogu... shamunaar. Those things almost make the big guy," She points a thumb up to the giant Krayt's skull hovering above the hall. "Seem small."

"Remind me, were you on the Minntooine contract?"

 

[MoreThanSane]

But it's not Manda'yaim. Homesickness weighed heavily on his heart, as if his world were pulling the vital organ in its direction, threatening to rip it from his chest. The artist in him longed for a piece of flimsi and a bes'bev, but the closest of which he knew was carried on his father's person back at their family's residence. Perhaps he would compose tonight.

"Nayc." He speared a dumpling and chewed it. "I've spent most of my time taking small contracts with Buir. We've always been around--aliit first, of course--but we've kept largely to ourselves. Those of our tal'din have always been so. Reclusive, that is." He smiled. "I heard about it, though. Were you there?"

 

[Kiro]

"Lek. Hunting terrorist underwater. Mom wouldn't leave the sho'sen at all. She can't stand that much water." Carien grins as she bolts on the last few pieces on her gun, before adjusting the sights and checking the pull on the trigger. She wanted her weapon to be -perfect-. As much as such an old gun could be at any rate. She dreaded the day that the ancient weapon would fail on her, and that was one of the reasons she stripped, cleaned, and reassembled it daily.

"And hey, small contracts pay, just as big ones do. Whatever it takes to bring in the waadas, right?" She replies before sliding a fresh power cell into the gun, and hearing that distinctive humm of a charged blaster, activates the safety, and slides it into the holster on her hip. "That's why buir worked as a hunting guide for wealthy auretiise. She'eta'olan wadaas anay'tuur. That goes a long way to help the aliit."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Ram chuckled. "Mir'dala. Water isn't exactly my friend, either. But I agree, if the aliit needs credits, you get credits. If that's blazing trails for auretiise or blowing up underwater terrorists or riding a bes'uliik through the heart of a supernova in your kute, then so it must be." He shrugged. He and his father had done enough dirty jobs in the last ten years for a lifetime, and then some. But the family on Manda'yaim and then Roon always had something to eat. Always.

He nodded toward the blaster Carien had just finished cleaning. "That's old," he said simply. "I like antiques. Where'd you get it?"

 

[Kiro]

"T-6 Thunderer. Superheavy blaster pistol. Weight, two standard kilograms. Rounds, twenty five. Range, fifty standard meters. Some class it as a carbine or a rifle. Developed by BlasTech in 20 ABY. Designed with one goal in mind: To produce more power than any competitor on the market. It was a favourite of smugglers, assassins, enforcers, and bounty hunters during the days of the Yuuzan Vong war." She smiles, flipping down the barrel support, turning the pistol into something one could grip with both hands and proving that it could indeed be used as a carbine.

"This one though, has been in the family for ages. Same with my ship, the Krayt's Claw. They've both been upgraded, modified, retrofitted, and customized to be solid competitors for more modern versions, and to keep up with the technological arms race. Though I've been meaning to get some custom work done on it myself." Flipping the support back up, and twirling it around one finger, Corellian style, she then hands it over to Ram to inspect it.

"Thinking of a dallorian alloy coating to help disperse the heat, because you can imagine how hot that thing can get in a long firefight, and the last thing you want to do is cook off either your power cell or your gas canister... and secondly, I've been pondering switching from tibanna to sig gas. It's rarer, and more expensive, but it gives you -alot- more punch. It's like comparing a nerf to a reek."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Ram snorted as he inspected the weapon. "A vivid comparison." He enjoyed the feeling of the weighty blaster in his hands, cool metal spreading a sense of comfort through his body. Violence itself wasn't something he'd ever enjoyed, but there was art in it, and Ram Bralor was nothing if not an artist. The blaster he held in his hands was, though deadly, a supreme work of art.

"'Tis as beautiful a weapon as I ever saw," he smiled at Carien, flipping it around and around. "I've never had much use for pistols, though. I prefer to drop my lenedat before he knows I'm there. Nice and quick, 'lek? There is art in that."

He handed the T-6 back to Carien and reached over his shoulder. He pushed and then tugged to release the clasps that held his weapon in place, then pulled it up into full view. It was long, heavy; too heavy perhaps for many men, but he wielded the thing with little effort. He set it gently on the table.

"This is my ik'aad. You've probably seen one or two before. MT-R Verpine sniper rifle. Heavy, durable, and the underslung blaster makes it more practical up close. It's my firm belief that if your target gets close enough to use the second barrel, though, you've already failed." He slid it closer to Carien. "Mine's not what you'd consider 'standard', but it's close enough. I have a few things I'd like to do to it, but times are hard." He shrugged. "I should probably start looking for work again. It's been a while."

 

[Kiro]

"Lek! I know everything about Verps, including that they don't bounce. I learned how to shoot with one. Ni buir'dala uses a custom built Verpine rifle, and an equally custom built Verpine pistol. You know her, right? Shere?" The question was an obvious one. There wasn't a Bralor alive today whom didn't know Shere, the wife of the Clan Leader, the Clan's finest cook, a skilled brewer of tihaar, and quite possibly one of the best shots. With her off-white armour, chromed weapons, the giant predatory avian companion, and the fact that she mothered absolutely everyone, regardless of age or stature. Not to mention that oh so out of place Coruscanti accent.

"Though she prefers the sleek, light-weight, silent kind. She's a huntress. She makes a stalking dire-cat or nexu seem clumsy. And I've seen her take down a bull reek three kilometers away with her gun, by firing a beskar slug into it's eye." She smiles and shakes her head in disbelief. "She usually reserves those rounds for special prey. Like the Death Watch or predators that are too tough to take down with conventional weapons."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Ah yes," Ram nodded. "Unique woman. I envy her, at times." He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound emanating from his broad chest. "If I'm ever half as good as her, I'll die a happy man." He flipped the rifle around and once again secured it to his back plates. "Or if I can ever afford beskar slugs."

He looked at his chrono as his stomach growled. He gave Carien an embarrassed grin and apologized for the noise. "It's... ah... been a while since I've eaten a meal. Buir and I have been hard at work." He always felt like such a farmboy when he was around those who'd been acquainted with civilization their entire lives. I am a farmboy, he reminded himself. Sure, he'd made friends in Norg Bral, but they had been mere childhood friendships; children he would play with for several months, and never see again. Now, he couldn't shake that feeling of being different from his vode. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed.

His stomach growled again, even as he popped a dumpling in his mouth. "I'm sorry," he rubbed a sudden itch on his forehead. "So what about you, vod? What is interesting in the life of Carien Bralor?"

 

[Kiro]

"Haili cetare! That's why we've always got food here." Carien replies, smiling and gesturing to the centre of the karyai where the bonfire roared, with whole mogo and nerf, with strips and steaks of bantha roasting on spits over and next to the firepit, as were several pots of soup, stews, and tiingilar.

"Wait 'til we get Manda'yaim back. Then we'll have more beskar. As for what's new in my life... Mand'alor elected me to command our me'sene in the war to come." She grins a bit as she grabs another fish dumpling, dripping with the soup in which it's been resting, and pops it inside her mouth. "I guess he liked how I handled myself in the mock battle above Geonosis."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"So it is," Ram agreed. "Perhaps I should speak less and eat more." He laughed.

"That's ori'jate! I will be happy to know our warriors are in such capable hands. I probably will not see very much of those who fly, though. When I get near a spacecraft's controls carnage always ensues, and not very often is it the kind of carnage I had intended to create." The last time he'd been put in a position to pilot a ship, he'd crashed it. And there hadn't even been a fight or a chase. He'd simply been flying through the atmosphere while his father used the refresher. It was, perhaps, his most embarrassing memory.

"Starships and Ram Bralor do not mix. But again, congratulations, ner'vod. I'm certain you will show the aruetiise that there is wisdom in fearing Mando'ade."

 

[Kiro]

"Nor do they mix with Echoylir Bralor. I think it's a genetic thing. Piloting skips every other Bralor." She grins, shaking her head and remembering the last time her father had piloted a vehicle on his own. Only the engine had been intact. "It's why mom and I locked him out of the Krayt's controls."

"Vor'e. I'll do my best make our ancestors and the aliit proud, and prove that Mand'alor's trust in me isn't misplaced. Kote par Bralor." She grabs her mug of ne'tra gal, saluting Ram with the alcoholic beverage, before downing the contents.

 

[batumshakalaka]

Wallace Graves came into the great hall of Norg Bral. his steps were long arrogant strides, but upon seeing the vast quantities of past fights his steps slowed and shortened as he tried to take it all in. All manner of weapons hung from the walls, everything from vibroswords and wrist rockets to pristine blaster rifles. Mixed in with the weapons were trophy kills, far to many to count. Above it all hung the skull of a krayt dragon, its bone polished so that it seemed to glow like a moon. The effect was humbling.

He found himself a seat near a bottle of Corellian whiskey, poured a glass. Drained it, and poured another. He was still new to Aliit Bralor and didn’t recognize anyone here. What better way to meet your new Aliit then a room full of food, booze, and weapons?

He emptied his drink again. Refilled it. He wasn’t one to search out another, he didn’t like butting in on other peoples lives, instead he would wait for someone to join him. Settling in to wait he began to roll a cigarette.

 

[Kiro]

It did not take long for someone to join the new Bralor member. While still early in the day, and not many of the close-knit, traditional, Clan had yet risen, there were a few members already present within the karyai. A woman of aproximately thirty years of age, with dark hair and equally dark eyes, took a seat opposite Wallace carrying a small tray with a mug of something fragrant and steaming, and a platter of harshun bread, and some sort of meat. Like some others in the hall of the Bralors, she was not wearing armour. Instead, she wore a simple white shirt, and the lower half of the body-glove of the Aliit'gam armour systems, but with the armour plates obviously removed. If one wasn't safe in one's own karyai, one wasn't safe anywhere.

"You'd better not light up that thing in here, ner vod." The woman comments, shooting the new member a stern glance. "My father had a very strict 'no smoking in the karyai' policy, and I intend to maintain it. If you want to poison yourself, go ahead, but do it somewhere you won't also pollute your vode and the children." With those words of warning, she shifts her focus to the food on her platter.

Even if Wallace had never met the woman, he would most likely recognize her, unless he lived under a rock the past year. This was Carien Bralor. She had once been Mand'alor, and during that time, she had appeared on a holo-net broadcast across the galaxy, revealing that she had the Galactic Alliance Chief-of-State hostage, and as a result, she had managed to restore the Mandalorian Clans to the Mandalore sector. Since the return of Corden Vencu, she had stepped down from the lofty position of Mand'alor, and instead become the new Solyc Al'akaan, or Warmaster, and the leader of Clan Bralor.

 

[batumshakalaka]

Graves was quickly joined by by a fellow Bralor. But not just any Bralor, the Bralor of her time. Carien Bralor, the Solyc Al’akaan. He almost didn’t recognize her, due to the simple garb she wore, but her eyes gave her away. They weren’t any fabulous color, a dark brown, but the depth behind them was astounding. The wealth of experience and strength contained in those eyes was more than enough to remove his remaining arrogance.

Humbled and shocked by her presence he felt lucky to get any words out at all, “Solyc Al’akaan, forgive me. I have no intention of poisoning any of my vode.” He cleared his throat, searching for a way to get out of the hole he had dug before even saying anything. “I will be sure to keep my flaws to myself.” He said humbly.

 

[Kiro]

Carien waves her hand dismissively with a smile to the new member. "Don't worry about it. You're new here, you couldn't know." She smiles and takes a long draught from the steaming mug of shig, before tucking into her food. "And here in the karyai, it's Carien, unless I've summoned the Clan for some official buisness. And even then, it's just aliit'alor. I'm the Warmaster when we're at war. Not when I'm talking with a vod in my own karyai."

The scarred woman just sits in silence for a while, eating her breakfast and sipping her shig. A minute passes, and once she's done with her meal, she leans back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. "Usually, this would be when I'd introduce myself, as you're new to the aliit. But since you happen to know who I am, perhaps you'd like to tell me your name?"