Event A Choice For Mandalore

Darth Raze

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The planet was a desolate ball of dust. Outside of the occasional village here and there was very little noteworthy in terms of metropolis on the planet. Nevertheless, it housed some of the greatest warriors in the galaxy even today. Warriors that were fractured, misguided and directionless. They were no longer conquerors, reduced to nothing more than petty bounty hunters that squabbled amongst themselves every now and then and sat on their hands the rest of the time.

It was another ordinary day on Mandalore when a fleet from the Imperial border jumped out of Hyperspace. The fleet consisted of ten Raider-III corvettes, three Pugio and three Fremen-class frigates, two Gladiator cruisers, and two Nesuto Combat Carriers. Aquilae starfighters and Impetus interceptors swarmed in formation through the fleet transported by the various craft. The keystone were the Star Destroyers. An Interdictor, and a pair of Onager armed with orbital bombardment particle cannons. Troop transport shuttles accompanied the formations.

One of the transport shuttles landed on the ground, Imperial soldiers filing out fully armored and with rifles drawn. Behind them was a figure that was rather well known across the galaxy, a tall, armored beast of a man. Heavy footsteps took him down the ramp of the shuttle, his helmet and the permanent crimson gaze panning out over the planet ahead of him. By now, word had gone out to the major clan leaders with directions on where to meet. Imperial ships loomed above every major settlement, a clear sign not to ignore the summons. It was also to prevent any trigger happy clans from open firing as was the case in the past.

Darth Raze stood waiting, though he didn’t draw any weapons. Those arriving would feel his presence well before they saw him. It was a bitter chill that crawled up their spine, ignoring any layers of armor. The Force pulsed powerfully from his being to where every Mandalorian would sense it.

The luxury the Mandalorians had of bickering and wasting time endlessly was now over.
 

Kotii Solus

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Kotii watched on his view screen the numerous sizeable contacts of the fleet arriving in the system out of hyperspace. Holographic light reflected in the emotionless T visor set on the table beside him. "They're trying to lock the system down, Kotii." Aden said the obvious.

This was not good. Everything he had worried about was coming to pass. The Sith had arrived en mass with more ships and guns than House Solus had to defend. It was a fact of the matter and one caused him to keep clenching his masked jaw. His eyes glanced towards the other officers, their forces were not enough to defeat the Sith fleet.

"Are the others evacuating?" He asked his oldest friend.

"Aye." The various personal transports scrambled carrying non-combatants to safety. Concord Dawn and neighboring Mandalorian systems would be reachable by sublight space or until they were out of range of the imperial's hyperdrive lockdown. "Most are staying. What are we doing, Alor?"

The question did not receive an immediate answer. Kotii's red irises were unfocused as the mind behind them contemplated battle plans and weighed the odds. "We do what we always have done. Fight and endure..." But the conclusions all came out the same. Taking a deep breath, his broad shoulders rose and fell before the man picked up his helmet and stared at his reflection. "...on our terms."

The stories of past Sith conquering and forcing Mandalorians to bend the knee or be killed were still told among the wise clans, the surviving clans. The dark siders and their forces had come to his door step intending to buldoze or take over probably. He wouldn't give whomever it was the satisfaction of dominating his people. Thus, they would separate and reconvene elsewhere at a safer location. What were the Sith going to do? Glass some glass?

---​

Before Darth Raze came to a stop, he would see the image of Kotii projecting on the screen. Kotii had no way of knowing who was at the lead of this battle group or who to address specifically so he spoke generally. "Attention imperials. I am Kotii Alor of House Solus. We can't come to the door right now. Kark off for now. We'll find you soon enough." The relayed hyperwave bouy message would bounce through several communication towers and be visible on all Imperial channels. Mandalorian space was big and they were not afraid of hiding. They had done it for centuries, hit and run attacks, assassinations, espionage and more. The Sith had shown their hand and walked onto an empty property now with nothing to show for it. The message would echo through the empty streets of Mandalore for Darth Raze to remember.

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Reshelle Solus

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There were some things in life that were certain, she would fight to protect her family, she would never back down from a fight, and the absolute certainty that she would die if she faced the figure who had showed up on Mandalore. She didn't care about the fleet, a fast and nimble ship could get through that fast enough. She didn't care about them destroying Mandalore, they could just as easily scatter and regroup. As long as their people survived Mandalore could not be destroyed, for Mandalore was not a place, Mandalore was its people.

But despite all that she knew that this man was not someone to be messed around with. And yet, she found her steps carrying her towards him. Word had reached her of an evacuation, of plans to deal with the Sith Lord. But the plans did not sit well with her. He could have shown up gun blazing, turned the planted and everyone on it to dust. Yet he had showed up here.

He was here to talk, and not facing him in person was not the Solus way, was not the Mandalorian way. Even if it came to a fight, even if she died, she would make sure she returned to the manda with her head held high, her honor intact. And she was not the other one, many a badger had refused the order to evacuate, though not all had been as foolhardy to follow after her. In this instance fewer voices would serve better than a cete of badgers.

"Darth Raze," she said as she stepped up to the Sith Lord, uncaring about the message Kotii was broadcasting, "I am Reshelle of House Solus. What brings a Sith Lord and his fleet to Mandalore? Do you seek to give us shade from the sun."

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Arthos Vizsla

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The Sith locking down the system didn't really take much - all they needed was the interdictor and they would have been locked in their home system without a hope. As much as they needed to project strength into the Galaxy, the stark truth was that most of Mandalore's strength in the greater Galaxy was the strength of their reputation.

And yet they were driven to flight by the appearance of one man.

Kotii called for an evacuation and, publicly, Clan Vizsla declared it to be cowardice. But in reality they hunkered down in their bunkers and spread out their numbers, preparing for an orbital bombardment not unlike the great Scourging that had burned Mandalore to the ground in generations past. They sent Arthos and a single minder out to speak to the Sith, to see if they came in the closest approximation that the Sith had to 'peace'.

They believed he was expendable should the Sith decide on violence but Arthos would have it no other way. It was the duty of every Mandalorian to be ready to lay their lives down for Mandalore; the title, the people and the planet. Arthos would be happy to do so if it came to it but the Sith didn't come with his weapons at the ready.

There was a chill in the air that made a shiver run down his spine... and put some beskar in it as well. He knew that it was an aura, a physical presence in the 'Force' that the Sith and Jedi could use - it was a reminder that their ancient enemy and ally had powers beyond them. That the ancient Mandalorians had relied on their inner strength to resist, to conquer, those same enemies and their damned power.

He stepped up to the meeting point with his minder hovering behind him by several steps - as though Arthos' body could protect them from the Sith. Arthos came to a halt close to the Solus, Reshelle, as she spoke up to the Sith.

"I, Arthos, greet you in the name of Clan Vizsla, Darth Raze." he called out, his voice as firm as it had ever been with none of his typical nerves on display, "Welcome to Mandalore."

Arthos hadn't intended it - it was just how he stood - but as he finished speaking his hand came to rest atop the hilt of his vibrosword. Though it was appropriate for a Mandalorian welcome.


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Casany Praxor

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On the desert of the dead, a landspeeder was speeding all over the place blaring dubstep reggae.

After leaving that one moot, Casany Praxor had remained on Mandalore for some time, exploring and expanding, but mostly just drinking. She had been fed up with nothing getting done, realized she was getting nothing done, decided alcohol was the best cure for now.

“What’s that, Mandy?” Cas called across the open air where the convertible’s roof was tucked away. “You want another moot? Here’s your MOOT.” She threw a boot at the planet that it might kick its shin into infinity and beyond.

Her helmet slid over her head. “I AM ANVIL!” Anvil raised a fist from the steering wheel. “AND HERE IS MY HAMMER!” She raised a bottle of vodka with the other hand. “TOGETHER, WE GO BANG!”

-BANG!-


The speeding speeder hit a rock or something and its driver went flying. “WOOOOOOOO—” Her jetpack cut off midflight. “SHIIIIIIIIII—” The armored Mandalorian hit the sand and went sliding. Who turned the sun off? Oh.

Struggling to her feet, Cas turned her helmet around so that her eyes were now staring out of the visor. She spotted ships over domes in the distance. “Hmm, yezz, these battle ships will make a fine collection to our addition…ahahaha…ha…” Spotted a couple more bucketheads, some troopers...felt her heart throb.

Then she saw him, standing tall and strong, as though the dark side of the Force had just manifested itself on Mandalore. It didn’t matter how drunk his audience was. There was surely a shadow wrapping around Casany's heart. Darth...Raze...

Her hand squeezed that bottle as though it was a sword hilt. Completely unsure of what to do in her current state, Cas began slowly swaying from side to side, bopping her head. Some distance behind her, a crashed speeder was still blaring music. Maybe no one would notice?


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Rynn Itera

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"Mandalore..." The raspy words escaped from beneath the man's helmet as he followed the descent into the dusty wasteland below. The Forbidden Land, The Stolen Right, those were the names that his Covert had given the names to these once sacred grounds. For generations the Coverts like Rynn's had been forbidden to step onto their homeland, destined to travel the world as exiles of a blood feud long since lost to the depths of the galaxy. The armor that Rynn wore, the markings and horns represented a pride that he had earned, for generations it was passed down, for generations they had been scorned. But, today the last of their tribe had returned home.

Slowly, the Mandalorian made his way up the steps, his E-11 Carbine resting in his hands, Byron's old lightsaber hung from his belt as a symbol of old conquests. He'd stand several steps away from the Darth, and slightly to the left with a quiet and curious gaze. His golden visor peered out to listen as the names were given. The Mandalorian was not aware of these tribes, though one claimed to be a house. His people had no name, it had long since been stripped from them, and in its place the signet of the Chirodactyl was all he had. Rynn would simply offer Darth Raze a gentle nod before shifting his gaze towards those who had gathered.

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Zaia Krodas

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It was bound to happen sooner or later, and right now it appeared to be the former. Outsiders had had their eyes on Mandalore for millennia, and the arrival of Darth Raze and his fleet today had been expected, to a degree, by Zaia’s clan. They’d sent her here to simply watch and report back on what happened, giving her strict directions to not get involved. But since when had she ever followed orders like that? It all depended on how the meeting would go, but from the looks of it, she was being optimistic if she believed that the odds were in the favor of her people.

The Bluebird had landed some distance away from the meeting point with the Sith. The ramp lowered, and Zaia noticed her droid following close behind her.

“Stay here with the ship, BG,” she said as she turned around. The droid beeped anxiously, refusing to budge. “It’s alright bud, I’ll be fine.” Would she though? BG beeped again, voicing her own thought out loud. After the recent moot, Zaia had been more than a little disappointed with what she saw. It had only reminded her of the arguments she’d had with the other foundlings about who had taken the last cookie from the jar. Perhaps that was why Darth Raze had chosen now, of all times, to bring his fleet. If the clans weren’t willing to stand with each other, it would be so easy for others to pick them off one by one until there were only a few left, just like the Purge. That might have been stretching it a little, but the thought lingered on her mind. Her train of thought was broken when BG chirped at her again.

“I promise I’ll be back.” It was only then when she gave her droid another nudge that he reluctantly rolled back onto the ship. It was only after she made sure the ramp was up that Zaia turned around and made for the direction of the meeting point.

As she approached the area, Zaia felt a chill down her spine. She’d experienced it only once before— the dark side of the Force. Fortunately she wasn’t alone, and there were already three other Mandalorians facing the Sith. And… was that Cas with a bottle over there? She frowned in concern from underneath her helmet before approaching the others and turning to look at Darth Raze without saying a word, her arms crossed.

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Fenyang

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Fenyang and his Death Watch band appeared. If the weak clans of the world saw fit to scurry and hide like rats, his band of brothers would be the rat king. Bound together. A pack, so vicious in numbers. Though they were little more than 20 in number, each carried with them the presence of a warrior. They would rather die on their feet, in a pointless last stand against the Sith, than spread beneath the world's surface. What kind of life did the "Mandalorians" hope to live, so guided by cowardice? They had the presence of Jawas, content to scavenge and beg on their own world.

Darth Raze brought a fleet, but did not yet threaten invasion. Rather, it seemed he may have reached the conclusion that Fenyang and his warrior had. That is, the world was weak, and needed a decisive push to return it to strength. If the Mandalorians did not have the strength to protect their own homeworld, the cradle of their own millennia-strong civilization, then they rightly deserved to be conquered and subjugated. They had subjected countless others to the same fate throughout their long history. And such harsh conditions could, perhaps, inspire a new generation of warriors to action. Rather than...whatever this rabble was.

He saw a Mando who wore the armor of the Supercommandos, an old, powerful, and right-minded group of warriors. It was a symbol Fenyang could respect.

"Dark Lord, I greet you as Fenyang of the Kyr'tsad." As the true son of Mandalore. But, this would not be an appropriate arena for more Mandalorian bickering. All of the warriors hear had the same, burning curiosity: What did Darth Raze want?


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Nox Solus

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The defense system had alarmed them all, a tide of metal and death that was directly closing in onto their home. Nox stood by one of the windows in the town center as he peered out it and toward the sky, the rays of the sun making his beskar helmet gleam. It would only last for a few brief moments as ships would begin to blot out the sun, a true display of power his people just simply couldn't match at the moment. It was a terrifying spectacle, one that called back to the ravaged history of the planet, fear even blossoming in the Mandalorian's rugged heart.

Steps would come from behind him as orders to evacuate replayed through his helmet, the words helping transform an ember of anger within him to nearly an inferno. While other clans were present, his was specifically Solus, and to see his Alor practically invite death to the people of their culture so easily infuriated him beyond measure. The Alor was their leader and he should have been the one out there instead as their shield and representation, not behind a projection. Solus always faced their challenges and obstacle, even in regrettable ones such as this.

Heavy steps came from the stairs behind the Mandalorian as another of his clan called his name, "Wolf?" Nox would push off the wall and turn towards his fellow kin to stare at him for a moment before joining him down the stairs. "Prepare whatever speeders and transports we have for stragglers and elders. If there is a way this goes south, we'll hold them off as long as we can to give any chance of escape." It could have amounted to nothing in the end but it was at least some action taken. The fellow Solus would nod before leaving to inform the other scouts in the clan, that being the reach of Nox's word.

The Mandalorian exited from the front of the building and walked down the steps toward the assembled group of other Mandalorians and Sith. Even at that distance, the Sith Lord cut an imposing figure as he easily stood over his audience, his red eyes crimson and piercing with no word being spoken. Nox could feel the chill in the air despite his armor and how it easily slid down his spine.

He would walk calmly toward the group, his rifle non-threateningly cradled in one arm like a child while his other remained under the cloak that hid half his body. Weapons most likely weren't permitted but then again a whole fleet covered his planet with the ability to rain death. When he arrived, Nox would take his spot right beside Reshelle, his free hand coming out from underneath his cloak as he grasped her shoulder lightly and gave it a squeeze. She wouldn't be the only badger that ignored orders and would not die alone if it came to that.

Nox withdrew his hand as his gaze slowly went to each Mandalorian beside him before resting on the Sith Lord in front of him. It would remain there a few seconds before he offered a slow upward nod, "Wolf of Solus, apologies we couldn't draw out the red carpet." Raze had made his display, it was time to see what he actually wanted.
 
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Darth Raze

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If Raze had any reaction to the initial rebuke from Kotii Solus, so-called Alor of Solus, it didn’t manifest externally. On the contrary, as he noticed actual Solus beginning to show up, the comms line to Kotii was cut. He was free to stick his head into whatever plot of sand he desired, there was plenty on the planet.

The Sith Lord stood silently, his hulking form always cutting an imposing figure. Solus was first to arrive, followed by others one by one. Raze’s visor tilted slowly towards the Solus that addressed him, giving what she thought was a snarky quip.

“Alas,” The mechanized voice spoke, “Only Mandalorians cast shade upon Mandalorians,” The Sith Lord responded in kind quite dryly. He moved on, gazing away to regard the others that began to trickle in. He could smell the apprehension, his sensitive hearing picking up the music in the distance but paying it no heed.

Raze was waiting for no figure in particular. In his eyes, any that showed up here in person was worthy of what he had in mind. He looked across them all, “Subjugation is not sustainable nor useful in the long run,” He stated quite flatly, addressing what everyone was thinking head on, “I have no desire to destroy this…” He looked around, gesturing at the wasteland around himself, “Bald patch of nothing and wasting both our time.”

He looked at each and every one of them, “Some of you may have heard this from your fellow Mandalorians, but even an Aruetii can see,” He growled, “You have forgotten your ways. You have dulled your blades. You have grown complacent. You have no purpose. You have no direction. You have no fire.”

Raze began to slowly pace, casting them all glances, “I come here to give you opportunities. The first choice is that one of you steps up to take the mantle of leadership right now and accept an offer of alliance. In return, you are granted a generous portion of the fleet above,” He pointed to the sky above him, “With which you will be do the work of your ancestors. With which you will conquer the space around you and remind the galaxy what it means to be Mandalorian. You will take planets for Mandalorians and in turn you will allow Sith influence and bases to co-exist on those planets. You will also give the Sith a mutually agreeable share of your spoils, but the planets belong to you. You will also gain the support needed to rebuild and bring life back to this planet."

“Option two is none of you step up or can agree, and instead you allow me to be your leader. I teach you the ways of conquest and guide your armies to claim worlds, and you all set your inter-clan conflict aside because I have no history with any of you. To cement my claim and show my commitment, I will fight any of you in single, unarmed combat right here, right now. No Force, no tricks.”


Raze paused as he looked at them, “Option three. You all unanimously decide you don’t like either option. And you return to putting altruism and small gains above the drastic potential you have with your skills and the advancement and glory of your people. You return to the status quo and your meetings and bickering every few months with no long term outcomes. I take my fleet and leave to invest in truly worthy warriors elsewhere.”

He said nothing for a few moments, knowing fully well this was the potential kindling to a fire. Would the Mandalorians smother it or ignite it?

“Choose.”

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Arthos Vizsla

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A lot of Mandos had shown up but Arthos would have called into question their right to wear their buckets had they not. Though seeing some he didn't recognize seemed rare these days - the number of moots had been rising and he had been doing work with some of them for some time by this stage. His hand didn't leave the hilt of his sword as the Sith started talking - if anything the grip grew tighter.

There was just something about a Sith speaking that caused his skin to itch and his armor to feel like it was heavier than it should be.

Then the Sith explained why he was here and the feeling of ice in his veins and claws down his back was rewarded. His instincts had been right - the Sith brought gifts so tainted that they would all be able to see the taint. But the problem was... the taint was visible, true, but so were the rewards. What did it matter that they were working for a Sith when they could count on their reputation again?

The Galaxy would fear them once again... and all they had to do was submit. Not subjugation, no, but by the Mandalorians willingly binding one hand to the Sith. Sharing spoils and allowing Sith bases on 'Mandalorian' conquered worlds?

Arthos found his feet moving without consciously being aware of it.

But regardless he stepped forward, away from the members of Clan Solus who had stayed, and closer to the Sith Lord. His stride was long and sure even if he probably looked far too young and far too much like a beanpole - even if he was only slightly shorter than the Sith.

He looked at the other Mandalorians arrayed.

"Only a Mandalorian should be Mandalore - they must put Mandalore above all other commitments. You would be a powerful war-leader but you cannot say you would do this. Option two is out and option three is untenable."

They had garnered the attention of this infinitely their greater in raw military might as it stood.

"I would stand as your ally. But I cannot claim the title of Mand'alor." he looked at his fellow Mandalorians, "Who amongst my kin, my vod, will step forward? Who may I pledge myself to among you?"


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Rynn Itera

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Rynn's golden visor seemed to reflect with flecks of amber and brown as he turned to meet the gaze of the various clans and tribes who presented themselves before Darth Raze as the figure spoke about the history of their failed existence, it was something that the Mandalorian's own adopted tribe had once claimed. While they wore the armor of their peoples and bore signets of their tribe's markings, they were simply symbols of the past -- their meanings were long forgotten. Rynn's own was a symbol of that, for he bore no hatred towards the Sith and part of him saw he as the potential leader to lead them to greatness. It was his armor that represented when the Sith had once tainted and influenced their culture, it was these red and black markings that represented everything that had lead to the destruction of this very world.

Rynn had been taught that it was this ancient leader who brought the Mandalorians back into their old ways, who had helped to dethrone the pacifists and lead to the return of the armor. Stories of the sorcerer's ways flashed through his mind as he stood before Raze, as if he was transported back to his time as a childhood. While Maul was indeed a Sorcerer he had sought to use them, their people, their customs, in his plot for revenge. This was the lesson that had been forgotten upon he and what remained of his covert, to stand before a member of the true Sith and to accept them as their own, that was the mistake his generation carried -- an old war symbol whose true meaning had been long forgotten.

"The Jedi grow weak," his strained raspy voice hissed beneath his helm, "This Sorcerer and I defeated two of them. We could defeat them all, end them and their petty ways.. It was the Jedi and their pretender allies that banished my people...and left us to die." The unknowing lies seemed to spill from his helmeted lips with venom.

"A Jedi once told me that we are one with the force...then I say it's time we embrace true tradition and strength within the Force. I will follow this Lord as an ally and a true leader of Manda'lor. For the old ways you cling to have brought nothing but nostalgia to these forgotten sands."

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Fenyang

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An opportunity presented itself. An opportunity that Fenyang would seize. He listened with intent to the choice Raze offered. To serve alongside him was...easy. The Mandalorian would be a Varangian guard, of sorts; foreigners who served as the shock troopers of a powerful lord. The Vizla, Arthos, poked holes in the plan - a Mand'alor must have a duty to Mandalore alone. For too long, the so-called "leaders" of the various Mandalorian clans had ignored this. The Mand'alor must put their world, all their clans, above their petty squabbles and individual clans. It was a great weight, but it offered even greater power.

"Arthos Vizla speaks true. Your offer is too kind, Lord Raze. We have done nothing to earn such a powerful army, such a potent leader, so divided and small are we." Another Mando spoke up, pledging himself to Darth Raze. It was, perhaps, to be expected. Those without vision, who craved power alone, could be easily seduced.

"Mandos, hear me. I submit myself to bear the title of Mand'alor. Many of you may not know Fenyang of Ordo, but my name will soon be burned across this galaxy." He stepped forward, ahead of the Mando delegation, towards the Sith. "If any of you had the spine to take the mantle of Mand'alor, you would have done so by now. Your repeated inaction shows that you all still lack vision. You are blinded by your own clans and obsessed with the moot." He smiled, a tiny, delicate thing, beneath his helmet.

"But Mandalore is not a democracy. We cannot continue talking. We must act. Serve me and I guarantee that today our history changes. There will be plunder enough to fill our entire system. Conquest enough that each child of Mandalore will have a world to rule. The galaxy will again bow before the might of our people."
He had great vision for his people. Vision enough that, even if they didn't see it, he did.

"Many will consider me untested, I know. But you, leaders who hide far away from the front lines, leaders who mewl over violence and death, are unfit to lead our people. I hide from nothing. I stand here now. And I, with the aid of your clans, will restore our dead world." He didn't expect to be successful, necessarily. But, just as Raze had, he presented an option. He had a target for the Sith's fleet already in his sights. They could rebuild, conquer, create their own Empire, and destroy any who would oppress them.

"So, what say you, 'Mandalorians?' Will you be the attack dogs of the Sith? Continue the slide into irrelevance? Or join me, and forge a new destiny for Mandalore? For every man, woman, and child born to our world, for all that follow our customs?"


"Either way, when this day ends, I shall follow the path of our ancestors, the Crusaders, regardless who will follow me."


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Drak Vúlfur

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The sky had darkened, the presence of the empire's fleet over Mandalore blocking the light as an even darker presence made his way to the rest of his brothers and sisters. They were uneasy, those able to fight stepping up while the others were probably being evacuated in case the sith wanted to end them right then and there. But if he had to guess, Drak was probably the only Mandalorian that had come alongside the fleet.

Truth is, today could very well be the day he could be at peace, for he would be the first of the Mandalorians that worked towards a new era. While in the past his people had rejected him for working alongside the sith witches. His family and his very own clan almost exiled him and labeling him a heretic in the past, yet now...Perhaps Drak would be able to forgive them for being misguided themselves, perhaps he wouldn't be ostracized anymore, perhaps the Mandalorians would all be able to have pride in what they do.

And so, the black sheep of clan Vúlfur arrived soon after Darth Raze, a sith witch, yet a great warrior. His very own presence irradiating with the blessing of Kad Ha'rangir, he brought death, he brought war, he brought change to the stagnated Mandalorians, so Drak nodded at him with the utmost respect, standing beside him as he looked around, his eyes fixating on every other Mandalorian present at the moment before giving them the Mandalorian salute.

After that, Drak pulled out an item: His Imperial Foreign Legion insiginia. Raising it in the air for everyone to see, Drak looked at his brothers and sisters before speaking up "The sith bring glory, war and change, I know this because I've seen it firsthand. The will of Kad Ha'rangir must be done, for times have changed, and so shall we. A decision must be made today" Lowering his arm, Drak nodded at the man with deathwatch helmet, acknowledging someone whose ancestors fought alongside his own, and then looked at the first one to want to claim the title of mand'alor...Keeping silent after that for a moment, Drak crossed his arms, shaking his head before stepping forward "Like you said, many here don't know your name or your exploits, they won't be able to follow you with ease, I sure know I won't. If you want to boldly claim the title of Mand'alor, then everyone will see what you're made of to decide if you're worthy...Even if I have you test your might right here myself, in front of our brothers and sisters."


@Sreeya @Darasuum @TWD26 @Nefieslab @Orbit @Sicadorito @Die Shize @Wit @Fine Dining Set
 
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Rynn Itera

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The man spoke of great wonders and unfathomable riches. Riches that Rynn and his covert had been denied, had struggled to prosper and find. The plague had wiped them out, leaving him as the rasping reminder of legacies that were quickly fading from the galaxy. Both the Sith and the newcomer, Fenyang, spoke of opportunity -- regardless of how irresponsible the stroking of nostalgic flames were. It was as if the generations of his tribe's oracles was speaking before him. All he needed was a play to be presented against his own misfortune, to make him take a side. He'd step forward, to stand beside the man who wore the symbol of Death Watch on his shoulder.

"I stand with our Sith Ally and our Mand...." His voice rasped as he tilted his head a bit to the side, watching as the Sith Clad Mandalorian stood to challenge the contested title. "This is why this place has fallen to wastes...always a challenge to the way things are run. You prove the Sorcerer's point, even if you did not intend to. There shall be no more fighting between our people. I stand with the man who seeks to claim greatness with our people. One that you refused to elaborate on how you'd lead us. Stand in line or die..."

The Mandalorian would step back and fall in line with the Mandalorian who claimed the title of ruler. The damage that the plague had done to his body, left him in no condition to truly claim the title for himself. "This is the way."

tag: @Sreeya @Fine Dining Set @Nefieslab @Orbit @Sicadorito @Wit @Die Shize
 
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Arthos Vizsla

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The Mando literally painted in Sith colors chose to stand with the Sith as their Mand'alor and Arthos couldn't find it within himself to be surprised. Not only because he knew the history behind that particular paint job as a member of Clan Vizsla but because he knew why. Picking Raze was an easy option - a proven commander and one who even now came to them and gave them a choice rather that burning his way through any and all objections.

As for the Jedi?

Arthos might be alone in this but he wouldn't want a focus on the Jedi. Would he fight and kill them? Absolutely. Did that mean he wanted to target them exclusively or would be brought onboard by that alone? Gods no. The FWA and their political and economic stranglehold on the Mandalore Sector was far more insidious and their Sith allies wouldn't steer them away from them either.

He turned to regard the Sith Lord for a moment as someone lay claim to the title and two Mandalorians already under the sway of the Sith argued against it. He spoke loud enough only that the Sith might hear him, though he didn't whisper it so much as he didn't shout to make himself heard like everyone else did.

"Clever." he complimented Raze, "You had one of your men ready to recommend you should no one else step up... or you have earned his loyalty in his service. Both look good..."

Was this not just more politics?

He spoke up.

"No offense to Lord Raze but I would choose a Mandalorian over him. My opinion on why is already stated." he eyed Drak and Rynn, "Your loyalties are painted upon you and noted. I would stand by the side of Fenyang."

If the option was between a Sith and a Mandalorian by birth and right? His heart had to go with the Mandalorian. But that same heart sank, fearing that they would be absorbed by the Sith should no one be able to find it within themselves to support a Mandalorian Mand'alor.

Moving away from Raze, Arthos would salute Fenyang before standing to his right.

"For Mandalore, for Mand'alor, I stand beside you."
he declared before turning to Drak, "I stand against those who would oppose your claim."


@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set @Versok @TWD26
 

Reshelle Solus

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Reshi did not care for titles and accolades, but she would be dammed if she let a darjetti claim leadership above them. This whole situation left a sour taste in her mouth, but there was always another layer of shit to find you continued digging. And this was a hole of their own making, one that they had dug for themselves by bickering and putting their faith in old fools who thought they could lead them. Kad's chosen my ass.

Thankfully that choice was not one they had to face, as one did step up to claim the title. He seemed brave, he seemed eager, and he seemed to know how to use his tongue. Skills that would serve The Mandalorian people well. And above all else he was here.

"If this is the will of those present here," she said as she saw more of her brethren throw their support behind the Order, "then Solus will see it done. You have my support, show us what you can do Ordo."

@Sreeya @Fine Dining Set
 

Valeska Kryze

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Val arrived late for the party. She had heard Raze's question clearly enough, though she'd been regrettably too late to greet him. She had also heard the ruckus that followed. Fenyang had been kind enough to step forward and offer himself to the mob for eating, which made him braver than most of this lot. From what she had heard about the last "moot" there had been yet another stalemate. Precisely why she hadn't attended.

"I keep hearing about ancestors and tradition," she said, finally speaking up. "Some of you talk about them more than your own spouses and children. Same with the gods. I don't know which god favors which one of you grizzly old bastards. As far as I'm concerned the gods are all vicious old cucks anyways. What I do know is that when given a choice, that man," She pointed now to Fengyan, "stood before a man with a fleet that could reduces all to ashes and declared himself Manda'lor. Makes him twice the man of anyone who attended that last Moot, as far as I'm concerned."

She looked once to the Sith, Lord Raze. "You are strong, my lord. I've no doubt flying alongside you would be a thrill. But something tells me this lot will be a lot rowdier if they're led by anyone other than one of their own. So I stand beside Fenyang Ordo. It's high time we had a leader." @Sreeya @Fine Dining Set
 

Zaia Krodas

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What Darth Raze wanted was clear. The Sith intended to use her people to benefit the Sith Empire, and nothing more. When Arthos stepped forward and pledged allegiance to the man, Zaia sucked in a sharp breath, though she held her tongue. He’d put out an offer for one of those gathered here to take the mantle of Mand’alor, and she waited to see who would step up.

Then another man spoke about the Jedi, and Zaia felt herself tense up. She was prepared to defend them, but then suddenly remembered what her clan had said and tried to listen as they moved on. Now is not the time to argue about the Jedi, she told herself. The thought was immediately dispelled from her mind when Fenyang offered himself up to be the Mand’alor. A challenge followed, in addition to the suggestion that the two candidates fight it out, then more words of support for Fenyang. Zaia stepped forward, unable to keep quiet for any longer, turning to look at Raze and the rest of the Mandalorians gathered.

“Hold on. If we are so inclined to choose another Mand’alor here and now, why must our leader stand with him? she asked, looking at the Sith. Then she turned to Arthos and the man who had offered to challenge him. “Which are you fighting for? The title for the one who will once more lead our people to greatness, or the puppet who knows he’s being used and can be disposed of by the Sith whenever they so please?” She scanned the faces of the rest of her people. “If we can choose a Mand’alor now, then that is all we need if we want to conquer and expand like the old days. We have no need for this so-called alliance with the Sith, where we all know they will use us like they wanted to for millennia. We Mandalorians fight for our own people, not for an empire that treats us as nothing more than tools.” She paused to look at the candidates again. “I will stand with whoever promises to serve our people, and our people alone.”

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Drak Vúlfur

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To his surprise, Fenyang did rapidly gain support, Drak stared at all the Mandalorians that opposed him now, following the person that had not been tested...Yet they were right about one thing: He had already done more than anyone else in this situation, he was the first one to claim that title at the most important time. Drak had the right to challenge it, as it was tradition, but it had been a reactive move, a way to make sure that whoever led them was worthy, yet...

"Perhaps I was wrong, then. Our people are eager to follow you, it seems" Drak said, looking at Fenyang and then all the people that were by his side "I suppose a change when it comes to that tradition, too, is in order." Drak took a couple steps forward, bowing to Fenyang on one kneee "May you prove your might in the upcoming battles and lead our people into a better era, Fenyang of Ordo, clan Vúlfur will have your back" With that said, Drak stood up and joined his brothers and sisters. On one hand he was conflicted about the nature of this claim...But on the other hand, it brought a smile on his face to see everyone unite under one banner for once, and so, when Zaia spoke up, Drak just looked at her in silence, wanting to see what the others would do about this new voice going against the will of the others.

 
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