Rise From the Ashes (Ral Aran)

[Sisk_Renelo]

The Shadow Veil
Unknown Regions​

In the unknown regions, beyond the wall of the Midas Belt, lies the Shadow Veil. This dangerous region of space has been the source of legends and disappearances for as long as tales have traveled the galaxy. Thousands of derelict spaceships of all classes fill the morass, alongside the remains of millions of crewman, drifting forever silent in the cold vacuum.

And it was into this place that the Mandalorians had come.

Only they were stout enough of heart to brave its depths beyond the outer ring and traverse the graveyard of lost souls. And within the uncharted depths floated a small station, placed there a decade and a half ago as a final fallback for the Mandalorian Protectors and then forgotten. Forgotten, that is, by all but one. Sisk had led his Clan to this lost place in preparation for the coming war, one that they would fight by themselves if they must. But the meeting that he had called would determine whether or not they had to wage it alone.

At the edge of the Veil sat a small Mandalorian fleet, 20 fighters surrounding a Haranov gunship, waiting patiently for their guests. As ship after ship exited the Midas Belt they were greeted by their brethren through code phrases and digital handshakes between their shipboard computers through tight beam transmissions pushed through the comm jamming field. Precautions had been taken for this meeting, and they would be followed to the fullest. Once identities had been confirmed they were sent a single tight beam transmission with only a single phrase. “Shut down your navicomputer and prepare to be escorted into the Veil.” One by one the Mandalorian Ships were slaved to their fighter escorts and made a jump into the Veil, aiming for a known safe region near the Gamma Cluster. But their voyage ended early in one of the eyes of the storm, their escorts ending the jump at a predetermined time to bring the vessels out of hyperspace after traveling through a corridor that was suspiciously free of debris. This was but one mystery that the Veil had to offer to those willing to brave its depth.

The ships attached themselves to the docking arms of the Morut and disgorged their living cargo. The Mandalorians were met by members of the Verda, buckets off, who led them to various rooms throughout the station equipped with holoprojectors. Sisk would have preferred to have gathered all of his scattered brethren together in one room, but space constraints in this hidden place meant that he couldn’t. So he and his Clan had been forced to use a broadcast system throughout the station in order to carry his words of unity.

Sisk stood in the main hall of the station in his full armor, repaired and repainted in his new colors. Gold, grey, and black covered the plates and his buy’ce hung from his belt. Around his shoulders hung the snow white pelt of a Mandalorian Wolf, killed long ago on a hunt through the wilds of Manda’yaim. He looked every inch the leader of men he was. Addressing warriors meant that one needed to be able to stand among them. And for the purposes of today, he couldn’t just be another Alor. He had to be more than that. He had to be someone that could lead them all. Leading a united group like the Protectors had been easy. To bring these disparate groups together and turn their various ideals towards on goal would be the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

Marcus came in through the hatch and waved his hand over the holoprojector controls. A list popped up of the ship IDs that had come to the gathering. Sisk scanned them quickly and nodded. “A good gathering.” A grunt of agreement answered him as Marcus shut down the projector and handed Sisk his gun belt. With a nod Sisk buckled it around his waist and strapped the holsters to his thighs before sliding his Rippers into them. “Tell Elias to wipe the log entries and coordinate bearings from the ships. If the Imperials get nosey, at least all they’ll have is a region. Have him explain to the Captains why it must be done. Nothing hidden.” The quartermaster nodded and left the room, leaving the Alor alone with his thoughts.

Mandalorians started to trickle in, the armor different colors and cuts, but all distinctly Mando. There were no chairs or benches, just an empty room and the Mando who filled it, all different, and yet all the same. When they had all arrived Sisk walked forward and into the camera field of vision.

"Su cuy'gar ner vode. I apologize for the unusual means of coming here, but to keep those who wish to see us dead from finding us it is necessary." Behind him swirled the colors of the Veil, twisting and turning in the solar currents. "Welcome to Morut, and I welcome you here. My apologies for the separation. The station is not large enough for all of us to gather together so we have had to resort to holos for all of us to speak. But I promise that before you go we will have a chance to speak face-to-face. I know that many of us have been at odds before, but the fact that you have come means that the time has come to put aside our petty differences and come together again. The Empire thinks us gone, but I do not see a people who will be forgotten. I see my brothers and sisters, warriors all, who have come for the time of awakening. It is time for us to rise, vode."

 

[Ral]

They had come a long way to get to the Shadow Veil from Bespin. It took a long time, most of it traveling through that blue-white tunnel that was Hyperspace. For Ral, he had tried to make sure the journey was as comfortable as possible for the people he was traveling with. With him was of course Carii, the girl Alora who had been tagging along with them for some time now, Ral's friend Ceres, and Arya. Arya had taken the most convincing to have her join them, and only after Ral had made the reasonable point that it wouldn't hurt to go and hear out what Sisk has to say did she finally acquiesce. Of course, the whole ride to the Shadow Veil Ral had received an earful from her. In fact so "colorful" was Arya's speech around Ral that he had picked up on a few choice phrases and words.

But that was in the past now, and Ral knew Arya only half-meant most of what she said, so he didn't take any of it personally. As Ral slaved his ship to the Mandalorian fighter, he sat back and waited and wondered. He wondered how Arya would respond to Sisk's message, to what Ral imagined would be his plea. He wondered how Alora and Ceres would respond as well, both of them having a somewhat... different upbringing in their ways. In Alora's case it turned her into what Ral would call a barely tamed animal. Still, even an animal could be a deadly weapon if used correctly and Ral planned to train her right so that she would become something the Empire feared. In Ceres' case she became what he would call cold and distant; a stone-killer, but there was just a shell he was sure. One of these days he would see what she was really like underneath. Carii had done her best to help Ral on the journey to the Veil. She tried to help Alora and get her to socialize with the other women on the ship, hoping that she would pick up on a few things. She was hopeful that Alora would learn some Mandalorian "manners" from Arya but she would have taken anything really.

As Ral's ship docked with the old Protector Station, Ral joined the women in the hold of his ship, they were all wearing their armor, or in Alora's case the closest thing she had to beskar'gam. Walking off of the ship they were greeted by a pair of Sisk's verde clad in the maroon beskar'gam he had seen earlier on Cularin. One of the men spoke up and directed Arya away from the group saying that Sisk wished to speak with her personally. Ral and the rest of his cadre would be directed to another room. Inside this room was a glowing holoprojector, but nothing was being projected at the moment. It didn't take long before two other Mandalorians greeted him. One he didn't recognize, but guessed from his armor that he was a Renelo. The other was a man by the name of Logan Rax, a Mandalorian he had also encountered on Cularin. Ral didn't say anything, not yet, he was too eager, too interested to hear what Sisk would have to say. It didn't take long before the holoprojector in the room glowed even more brightly before projecting the image of Sisk in his newly painted beskar'gam.

As Sisk began to speak Ral and Carii listened. To Ral, Sisk said what Ral expected, but also what he thought was needed to be said. His mind wondered what Sisk exactly mean by "rise", did he mean to rise up? Well, that is certainly what Mandalorians used to do, but Ral wondered if that was something that could be accomplished again in this day and age. He sincerely hoped it was, but he wasn't sure. Carii heard Sisk's words and thought of the way life used to be. While Carii enjoyed the occasional firefight and explosion she wasn't nearly as much of a fighter as Ral was, she preferred to be back home at the farm that no longer existed. She didn't want war, but she wanted peace and safety most of all. Deep inside of her, she hoped that Sisk's plan would deal with the Sith threat to all of them. Carii hoped that one day she could walk through the Galaxy and the most she would have to worry about was the occasional thug trying to get brave, not Sith or bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves.

Both of them were willing to hear what Sisk had to say and see what he could do. But, that didn't mean everyone in that room would be willing to as well. And both of them knew that their best shot for survival against the Sith Empire was to stand against it as a unified people. Humming to himself Ral would wait for Sisk to finish before he spoke. Surely, the Alor would have more to say.

 

[Alora]

Alora kept mostly to herself through the whole travel. Of course Carii tried to get her out of her shell, but it had little success. Alora kept spending time in cargo bay, sitting on the crate with Zeera sitting beside her or sleeping on the floor at her feet. All that time Alora kept staring at the mighty bes'uliik that was "resting" there.
The metal beast was an icon, a reminder of the ancient, more glorious days of Mando'ade. The curves of its armored plates, the thick sharp claws of its metal paws. It was a thing of beauty. And Alora felt a sting in her heart, for the days and glory this beast represented was long dead.
The people, her people, were almost extinct. Of course, there still were a lot of people who called themselves mandalorians and wore beskar'gam. But from what she's seen so far, the culture was dying. Almost every one of them were loners, including Alora herself, which was wrong down to the core. The people should be united, all sons of Mandalor. But they resisted, they didn't trust each other, they were ready to jump on each other on the first notion of hostility.
Alora closed her eyes and went down to her childhood memories. Here's the tapcaf, a small building in the middle of what aruetii might call a village, but mando'ade called a city. A capital city in fact, Keldabe. Inside the tapcaf a spicy smell hits her nostrils. Famous Keldabe soup is boiling inside a great pot, which is placed on a real fire. Some say that Kanderus Ordo lit up that fire millennia ago and that it never was put out since. Her father sits her down in the corner table and brings her a bowl of soup. After that it’s a uj-cake, since its her birth day. The room is filled with soft buzz of conversations from other tables and occasional laughter. There's a lot of verde in here today, all armored up, but not one of them wearing helmet, the buyce'se all stacked on the floor under the tables. Alora notices a group of mandos playing cu'bikad, a strange game involving knives and chequered board. From that table comes the loudest laughter and cheers, men and women slapping each other on the shoulders and drink ne'tra gal. So wonderful, so cheerful, so… aliit'la. When she finishes her soup her dad brings up the uj’alayi. But it's not the cake Alora remembers today. It’s the hundred voices from all around her, mandos congratulating her on her fifth birthday. "Briikase gote’tuur!" she hears from every direction, men, women, few teenagers and even children. This is not the place for adults to get drunk, this is the place for the clans to meet and have some good times. She feels their hands softly slapping her back and squeezing her shoulders. "When will you buy the girl a proper beskar'gam, Gem'ika?" she hears few times, a funny remark always followed by laughter and more cheers. She's only five after all. She grins and smiles at everyone, trying to say "vor'e" to every one of them, but fails miserably cause there's so many people in here. But no-one seem to care, mandos never cared for formalities. The rest of the day feels like a fairy tale, an adventure. She gets to ride a swoop bike with one of her father's old friends, she tries to shoot a pumpkin in the backyard of the tapcaf with a blaster rifle and hits it with the third try. She watches mesmerized as a young woman does tricks with short bes'kad, the dull blade flying from one hand to another, faster and faster, spinning and rotating faster then the eyes could see until finally it flies all across the room and stabs right in the middle of a small painted circle on the wall. A heartbeat of silence follows and then the crowd explodes with applauds and cheers, followed by angry muttering of barman and thunderous laughter.
Best day she can remember.
Alora opens her eyes and finds herself in the dimly lit cargo bay of a space ship. She feels her eyes water, tears running down her cheeks. "What has become of us?"
Carii tried to drag her out of the bay onto the main deck, where the rest of the "crew" spent their time. She tried cheering Alora up, but to no avail. Even Arya once attempted to talk to her, but Alora looked at her with blank eyes and didn't respond. And somewhere behind Arya's eyes flickered a spark of understanding. She didn't try to talk to Alora again.
Ceres was of a different sort, cold and distant. It would seem that she was the most uncaring of people, but somehow Alora felt that this was not the case. It felt like a shell, a wall she built around herself. Just like Alora did. But where Alora's wall was covered with spikes, fangs, claws and raw aggression, Ceres' walls felt like sky-high smooth cold marble bastions, impenetrable and unyielding. And probably with no doors.
Few hours before they reached their destination, in storage lockers Alora found an armor vest. It wasn’t a proper mandalorian beskar'gam, just a simple durasteel plate. She tried it on and it roughly fit. It wasn't that heavy or thick, so Alora put it on and hid it under the bantha jacket.
When the ship docked she followed Ral into the station. Arya was lead away somewhere and their group was shown to a room with a holoprojector. Seeing to chairs or benches, Alora leaned against the wall apart from other people. Some she recognized from Cularin, some she didn't.
And then the hologram of Sisk Renelo appeared. "He didn’t even show up in person…" was her first thought. "That’s how he respects his people."
She listened to his speech, half surprised, half disappointed. And this man calls himself Mand'alor. When Sisk finished, people looked thoughtful. Alora felt sour in her mouth.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Slowly, but surely, the small shuttle hurtled its way through the Shadow Veil; a place that Tudao had never heard of whatsoever. Then again, one could never know all of the many places in this galaxy. Placing his antique helmet on, the Kiffar watched several fighters manifested from the darkness; in due time, a transmission manifested on the comms unit blazed into life. The fighters conveyed that they were there to escort the small freighter towards their intended destination. Tudao turned to his fellow Mandalorians; though their faces were concealed behind their helmets, he could sense the excitement among them...it had been to long since they've last seen other Mandalorians. Young Topheph put forth the possibility that they were the last of Mando'yaim's children. The Former Nightbrother had swiftly disputed this, stating that the Mando'ade were the edge of the blade, whilst the Jedi and the Sith were the sides. Fate demanded that they were to never die out, for as long as there was knowledge of the Mandalorians, one will always rise to take the mantle of Mandalore and keep their spirit alive. Within moments, the fighters had led them to a space station that appeared to have seen better days. Given that they were being led here, Tudao had to assume that the place was still functional in order to support their presence in the region. As the ship docked, they moved themselves towards their new destination.

---

As he had made his way through this place, the older Mandalorian was surprised at what this place had; the rooms within possessed holo-projectors, no doubt to cater to a large amount of Mandalorians and rightly so. Quite a few had come here, no doubt rallying to the new Mand'alor's call. Bedecked in the markings of Clan Renelo, the Former Nightbrother took off his helmet, revealing his tattooed face, dark skin and hair that flowed long. Soon enough, the holo-projectors were activated and a familiar face manifested...it brought a smile to his withered features. Sisk spoke, and electricity flowed within the atmosphere.

"Su cuy'gar ner vode. I apologize for the unusual means of coming here, but to keep those who wish to see us dead from finding us it is necessary. Welcome to Morut, and I welcome you here. My apologies for the separation. The station is not large enough for all of us to gather together so we have had to resort to holos for all of us to speak. But I promise that before you go we will have a chance to speak face-to-face. I know that many of us have been at odds before, but the fact that you have come means that the time has come to put aside our petty differences and come together again. The Empire thinks us gone, but I do not see a people who will be forgotten. I see my brothers and sisters, warriors all, who have come for the time of awakening. It is time for us to rise, vode."

And about time, thought Tudao.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Traveling together with Ral, Arya, Carii, and Alora, was an interesting experience, one that Ceres had trouble putting into words within her mind as she stayed in the cargo bay near her ship, working on repairs to her rifle as their ship was guided to see what this Sisk Renelo had to say in his bid to lead the mandalorians here. She was curious of his words, though doubtful they would be humble nor uniting, people of power rarely showed such positive traits, in her experience.

She had kept to herself, mostly out of habit, but had also been observing the others and their interactions with one another. Arya was someone she had decided early on to be cautious of. Ral was well meaning, rare in these times, but perhaps not cold enough for his own good. Carii seemed to do her best to keep everyone together, perhaps requiring such companionship to keep herself going. And Alora, was strange. Ceres had seen her and heard her on more than on occasion in trying to get her to socialize with the rest of the crew. She didn't trust those here, and while Ceres didnt know the reason why, she was sure there was someone who had hurt her greatly in the past.

When it came time to see Renelo, Ceres stood up from her seat and paused, a breif moment of confusion as her leg took a moment and than clicked, as if something metal had popped somewhere. Ceres kept her face expressionless as her eyes drifted down towards her legs, occasionally trying to bend both her knees. Her knees bent just fine, at least at small distnances, next was the ankles. The left ankle, she found, wasn't working right. There was tension where there wasn't suppose to be, and the metallic click had been her ankle forcing itself to move on its joints and axises.

She'd need to repair it later, in secrete where no one could see. She had spent her life as a freak because of her legs, and she wasn't about to let anyone know of her condition. Not if she could help it. As the group came to the station and were seperated, ceres couldn't help but look around, if only to take her mind off of her future repairs.

"Impressive Facilities. And in a hard to locate position..." Ceres said aloud as she and the others were guided to the room with a holoprojector, "Unless attacked, this place would prove valuable." She said with a frown, her intent somehow coming through her monotone. If this place were ever found or attacked, it would turn from a excellent base, into a killing ring. Still, it was an impressive base of operations for clan renelo to hold.

Seeing the man appear however, dressed in such an outfit Ceres had not seen in an age, she blinked in surprise as she listened to his words. They were...better, than she'd thought. Lacking in the declarations and pompasity she had been expected them to have. She had to admit, Sisk Renelo made an intriguing figure if nothing else, "Interesting approach..." Ceres said as she looked towards her fellow mandalorians to gauge their reactions, 'Now is the time to rebuild in secret. To survive and thrive...not rise and die.' Ceres thought before her expression softened a bit, a sad look crossing her features as she looked down, 'But...if the empire crushes us, one by one...we will never even survive, much less thrive.'

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Not all who came today would hear his words. They would continue on their own paths of self-defeat and they would feel none the worse for it, believing that it was the only way for them to survive. The lessons forced upon them over the weakness of the Mandalorians separated would fall on deaf ears and they would depart the way they came, alone. It would be a loss to the Mandalorians who stayed, but fighting alongside those who did not need to be there was worse than fighting without them. A warrior with a weak heart would watch their lines break and their brothers fall rather than risk their own skin. It was Sisk’s job to convince as many of the vode to rally to him today as he could.

“The old ways are finished. Our reliance on the unbreakable traditions of our people have led us to ruin and stagnation. For over a thousand years we have been unchanging, a steadfast bulwark against the tide of the galaxy. And what has it gained us?” He shook his head slowly. “I am as guilty as any of you, my reliance on tradition and my obsession with honor helping to force us down a path of ruin.” His words carried weight, weight that he had carried on his shoulders for far too long.

“We need to change, vode. We can no longer be the way we were. Our numbers are miniscule, our lethality and culture thought extinct. We’ve been scattered to the winds, bereft of direction without a single goal to bind us together. Although we are dangerous alone, together we are unstoppable. If we weren’t, the Imperium would have just let us fall to the inevitability of history, but instead they place a bounty on all our heads. You all know as well as I what that means.” Sisk had always talked with his hands, and they punctuated his words as he laid out his case.

“We are thought broken, destroyed, worthless. They think that we are barbarians who are going to disappear from the galaxy not with a bang, but with a whimper. But we have existed longer than any of them. The Mandalorians have walked the galaxy longer than the Sith, Longer than the GA, longer than the old Empire or Republic. We have even existed longer than even the Jedi. Our destruction has been sought by governments and cultures since time immemorial, but we have survived.” His face was grim, the words strong, and his voice carried the unmistakable tinge of a man who believed to his very core that what he was saying was right.

“The time of division is over. There are no more Loyalists and Separatists, there are no more Protectors and Crusaders. There are no more lines along which to separate ourselves from each other. For the first time in over a decade we have something that unites us all. The Empire thought that they could destroy us through their cowardice but all they have done is give us the need to band together again. The loss of our Aliit, our vode, without even the chance to strike back at their killers is an insult against all of us. We all have lost somebody. A father, a mother, a daughter, a son, a spouse.” His voice almost broke as he the words brought Xotomi to mind, but he steeled himself and soldiered on.

“Those voices cry out to be avenged. Their souls will not join the Manda until their losses have been repaid by the blood of the Imperials.” He paused, and as expected heard a murmur run through the room. “But we will not strike out mindlessly against our enemies. Our numbers are too few for a concerted offensive to lead to anything but our blood mingling with the dark earth. I would not see the light of the Mando’ade be extinguished by foolishness. Not again. To strike against the Imperials requires planning and patience, and a heartfelt drive from all of us.” His eyes roamed the room, meeting the gazes of those gathered. The holo in the other rooms was positioned so that it would seem he was staring into their eyes as well, giving his words and motions a gravitas that would carry to all.

“When the Taung first fought against the Battalions of Zhell on Notron, they took the name Dha Wherda Verda for themselves. Even outnumbered they still fought their enemies from a place of strength. They fought them from the shadows. This will not be a Crusade of old, where we fought toe to toe against an enemy. This will be a Crusade where we will strike against the Imperials from the darkness and then fade away again, leaving them bloody while we become more than men. More than myth. We will be the Warriors of the Shadow come to life.” Sisk had spent long months planning this, regathering his clan, and calling in old loyalties to bolster his forces.

“The Imperials believe themselves invincible. Hidden as they are behind the worlds that we won for them, guarded by the fleet we built for them. I intend to prove them wrong. I intend to show them that no matter where they hide, no matter where they run, no matter how secure they think they are, they can never escape from us. The darkness reaches everywhere, as will we.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words.

“We can no longer be fractured, vode. We can no longer afford to fight as the Clans. We must fight as the Mandalorians. We must become the Mando’ade once again. A General is needed, one who can lead us to vengeance against those who took from us everything. I do not want to do this alone but my Clan and those who have sworn for us will carry on by ourselves if we must. By any means necessary.” His hands extended outwards in a welcoming gesture, as if he were embracing his vode.

"Fight with me. Fight for what we've lost. Fight for what we can be again. Fight for the truth of the Mandalorians. The time has come for us to be one people again. No more shall there be Renelo or Skirata. Fett or Bralor. Let us all be Mando'ade."

 

[Ral]

The Mandalorian in the black and green armor listened intently as his partner and cohort stood by his side listening as well, both impassive and implacable. With their helmets off they would have had stony expressions almost impossible to perceive. With them on nobody would have been able to tell what they were thinking. To Ral, Sisk was speaking truths. To Carii, he was speaking of survival. There was a moment when both of the Mandalorians wondered where the future would take them. If they left this place what would they do? Go back to fighting the Empire with the Rebellion as a small, but distinct faction? If they stayed would they have a better chance of surviving, of reestablishing their way of life, of leaving a legacy that others would remember. What did the future have in store for Ral and Carii? Things were uncertain for the pair of them, and neither knew which would be better for them. Ral knew that in reality the best thing for them would probably be to stay and fight with both his vode, and the Rebellion. For in his mind there was no certainty of victory without the help of the rest of the Galaxy. Even if they united against the Empire and conducted a Shadow War against their killers, their numbers were too few, their way of life too scarce, too valuable to lose verde in battle. They did not have planets to recruit from anymore, and unless they underwent a massive campaign to recruit and adopt new warriors into the clan attrition would see them whittled down to a select few before the end. No, their only hope for the Mandalorians to stand side-by-side with the rest of the Rebellion. Distinct of course, but brothers-in-arms nonetheless.

With that in mind Ral made up his mind, and when Carii looked at him, she could tell he had decided what he was going to do. She had to decide for herself what she wanted to do. The decision was a bit harder for her, but eventually she came to the same conclusion, but her heart and mind were in a different place than Ral's, so she was unsure she could take that great leap like was about to. However, she believed that she could stand by him through the fighting that was inevitably about to come. Carii knew in her heart of hearts, that if the Empire wasn't stopped that there would be no safety for her or her children, or her children's children. Those whom she called family would be forever in peril of dying in some alley, ambushed by some cowardly dog looking to make a quick credit and a good name with the Empire. While she did not have the same warrior's heart as Ral, she knew what needed to be done, and wife or no, she would stand by him, no matter what happened; and it was because of Ral she would stay. No other man would be able to convince her, but seeing Ral's determined resolve convinced her that he would do what needed to be done to ensure their safety; their people's safety; their children's safety.

Ral felt that Sisk's message was clear: united we stand, divided we fall. The Alor'ad did a good job of bringing up vivid imagery from their people's past of ancient campaigns and battles in ages long past. Ral only hoped that it would be enough to sway those few who were on the fence. And hopefully those who did not agree would still see the logical safety in numbers; that their best chance of survival as a people was together, not apart. If anything, the past has shown that when the Mandalorians are unified that there is next to nothing that can stop them, separated, they are weak and insignificant. With Sisk's speech over, Ral turned to face those who had joined him in the room. "So, you've heard what the man has had to say. What do you all think? Would you stand and fight with your vode, or do you wish to continue on your paths of lonesome exile?"

 

[Alora]

- No, - Alora said in a loud clear voice.
She stepped into the circle of warriors and stopped next to Ral Aran.
- I was listening to all this rumble and I asked myself: "Is this what sons of Mand'yaim came to?"
Alora looked at warriors around her.
- I know what you trying to do, - she said calmly. - You also feel that we need to unite, to become a nation once more. But you tend to choose the wrong path again and again.
She looked over the gathered men and women, from one face to another, and spoke, her voice raising up:
- Is this what sons of Mand'alor became? We've lived for decades in bittering and petty rivalry, killing each other whenever we got the chance. Where did the unity of Mando'ade gone to? What happened to our spirit? Did we really forget the ways of our ancestors? Did we really became nothing more then mercenaries and bounty hunters? I saw the fear in the eyes of aruetiise when they look in our helmets' faces and I know why they fear us. But that awe is false, because today we are nothing to be afraid of!
She took a pause, letting the words hang in the air.
- Thousands of years ago mando'ade invaded the once strong Republic and brought it to it's knees. We could have won then and conquer the galaxy if it wasn't for Revan! Then we started to rebuild our nation, piece by piece to once again shake the galaxy with screams "Oya!" And we did! For millennia we inspired awe and fear in our allies and enemies alike! And all that is due to a single fact. Mandalorian is not a nation! We are not a species! We are not an army! We are an idea! And our strength comes not from our numbers or our beskar, it comes from our souls and our unity! And we let all that die?
Alora jumped onto a crate to stand a little higher.
- Why do the people always fear us? Do you yourselves know? I'll tell you. It's not because we're good soldiers, Sith armies had just as good and better disciplined, and they still cowered in fear before us. It's not because we have better tech, in all times our enemies had superior technology then us and still we brought them down, even with our bare hands. Is it because we're good hunters? There are specialists in that field on every habitable world in the galaxy and some are better at it then any of you, but we still keep our top trade. So why then?
Alora's gaze was hard and menacing, her voice has risen to reverberate through the halls.
- It's because of our soul. We are one and we're all brothers. We fight together and we die together if need be. Mandalorians cannot be destroyed, because we don’t have numbers, we don’t have homeworld. We are a culture. We are an idea. And ideas cannot be destroyed. You smash us with a hummer, we'll scatter like mercury, but we'll join together again, stronger then before. But what have we become? We were never this scattered like today.
She spread her arms wide, palms up.
- We can go down the ancient path, it's true. And it will unite us, it's possible. We can wage war in the name of Kad Ha'rangir! We can spill blood in defiance to Arasuum! But will it save us? How long before we turn on each other again all for the sake of keeping the war going? Is that the path we want? The path we walked before and chose to abandon because it was the wrong one? Do I have to drag your gett'se back to Shogun so you could see the path we really need to walk?
Alora looked at the hologram of Sisk Renelo.
- You want to start a war with Imperium? Now, when we are so few and so divided? How long before we are outnumbered, surrounded and slaughtered? And to what cause? Revenge? You petty vengeance will mean nothing to our children who will lose their families! It will give nothing to our future except that it just won't come. You claim to be Mand'alor, but in reality you care nothing for your people, you just want your own vengeance. Is that a way for Mand'alor to treat his people? Mand'alor is not a privilege , it's an obligation. If mando'ade must protect their families, their clans, Mand'alor has to protect all the clans, not lead them into destruction. And this is why only so few of us turned up here. People feel it in their gett'se. You wanna make a proud last stand? Go ahead, but bear in mind that glory is of no use to the dead. And dead we will be.
Alora jumped off the crate and started walking among the sitting and standing warriors around her.
- Ke’juri beskar’gam! - she slapped her hand on the chestplate of the nearest warrior. - Ke’jorhaa’i Mando’a! Mhi lise vaabir ibac. K’ara’novo aliit! Mhi vaabi. Ke’gaa’tayli aliit bralir! Bal mhi kyr'amu cuun vode… Ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade! Bal mhi ru'digu iba'bic cuyi… Ke’shekemi haar Mand’alor...*
She looked around the faces, silent reproach and pain in her eyes.
- Admit it brothers. We failed. We are no mandalorians, we just wear the armor… We are dar'manda. And no ancient religion or savage god will change that. And blind vengeance will only mean our last and final death. There will be no mandalorians after that.
Alora walked back to the center of the room.
- And if someone thinks I'm wrong, I invite them to step out and shoot me in the head. Because I don't want to live on with my shame.
She stopped in the middle of the circle, arms spread wide, face stern, eyes cold and defiant.

*(Wear armor! - ... - Speak mando'a! We can do that. Protect your family! We do. Help the clan to succeed! And we kill our brothers… Raise children as Mandalorians! And we forgot what it is… Rally to the cause of Mand'alor...)

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Ceres watched Alora give her impassioned speech with a cold expression, a frown growing on her face as she listened to her words. Alora's, and Sisk's, both two sides trying to say the same thing, but in very different ways. The division was pointless, to her, as was the grandstanding. And both of them, in her eyes, had flaws in their points of view. But something the young woman said, something she spoke of in her speech, made the seemingly emotionless Ceres have a momentary twitch of emotion. And it was not with agreement or compassion, but of anger, as her eyes narrowed and her frown turned into a scowl, before she closed her eyes and sighed, hands clenched as she did so.

Finally, Alora presented an ultimatum, and ceres decided to see what the young women would say. She walked forward, slowly, due to her knowing of the small problem in her leg and not wanting the others to know. To many, it seemed her movements would be slow and deliberate like a predator, rather than a prey trying to feign being in optimal condition. She opened her eyes and looked towards Alora, no emotion in his voice as she spoke.

"You believe that being a Mandalorian is about culture, and ideas. That nothing can take that away..." She said as she walked closer to the girl, keeping her eyes staring into the girls as she walked closer, "It's an admirable idea...but it's wrong. I know it is, because I have experienced it first hand..." She said as she came to a stop, close towards Alora as she looked around towards the others gathered, "My Clan was known as Clan Wyvern. Was, because I am all that is left of them. And I am thankful that I am the only one left, my fellow mandalorians. Thankful, because of what my clan became..." As ceres spoke of her past, she seemed to lose her monotone voice, an edge developing in her words, an anger growing as she spoke.

"My clan focused on survival, on preserving our own clan. My clan murdered other clans, stole their young to hold as hostages, trained and broke their own young to show no fear, to know no mercy, and to never question those who led our clan. And why? Because it was for survival...to preserve clan wyvern, and all its magnificence, even if every other clan should fall to the sith or each other. My father led our clan, and led it to stagnation of rot, all in the name of preservation!" She shouted that last part as she slammed her fist against her open palm, furious as she spoke as she clenched her fist hard, her hand shaking even as she seemed to calm down.

"We cannot be like my clan...we can never be like them, and turn our backs on everyone and everything for the sake of our survival, our preservation and stagnation...The sith, will come. They have already tried to kill us all, and they will not stop until we are wiped out. We can live in exile and peace, hiding in the shadows and continuing our culture in secret...we can try, and we can fail. I know this, because my own clan purged any who tried to hide in such ways, to execute any who did not bend the knee to our clan leader, even those still too young to even hold a blaster..." Ceres said as she looked around the room, her voice deathly clam and monotone, so cold and divorced from her previous outburst it was hard to believe she was the same person. Yet, even with the cold monotone she spoke in now, the anger and hate was all too clear.

"And if my clan, my pathetic wretch of a family, could commit such atrocities without losing a single second of sleep for it, I am doubtful that the sith will allow any of us, or our children, or our children's children, peace..." she said as she looked back towards Alora, her eyes full of sympathy even as her face was cold as stone, "Our families are already lost, and our blood already destined to be spelt by the sith. We are already doomed to turn on one another, unless we unite now. If for nothing else, then to have a better chance to raise a family, to have children, who may see a future where they are not hunted like dogs..."

"We shouldn't be fighting the sith alone. We should not focus on vengeance, but on uniting and thriving. But there is no chance better then this, to unite. We are Mandalorians, we can continue to be Mandalorians; To continue our practices and believes, but not if we are divided. Not if we focus only on surviving, and allow everyone else to burn in the path of the sith, waiting in ignorance until they one day decide to turn their gaze fully upon us. We should be joining others who wise to stand against the empire, to stand with our comrades of a common cause, even if they are not Mandalorians. We should be all working to recover, and prevent another slaughter by the sith. And if Sisk Renelo, and his foolish talk of Vengeance, is the only one willing to try and unite us all...then I will head this call. And I will do all in my power to make sure his foolishness does not kill us all."

 

[Hasanna Everglade]

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Maria Grayson, Maria Grayson

Vix repeated the words in her head while she waited for the Alor's message. the action had become a daily ritual to her, she treasured this aspect of the culture, for quite obvious reasons. She lay back however, as far as communication-for as much as these people were to her it did little to change the fact she had never met most of them.

In truth Vix found no reason to speak, no desire to put her foot in her mouth. True-she was a Mandalorian, that was her life now... a life and choice she by no means regretted. However she did not yet hold an emense knowledge of her people, as much as she wished she did. Yet still when the projection of the alor came alive-their were parts of the mans speech that spoke to her, struck a cord.

We all have lost somebody. A father, a mother, a daughter, a son, a spouse

A spouse....

Those voices cry out to be avenged.

Maria? Maria and her fellow mandos.... did the fallen call out for vengeance? Crave the blood of the ones that spilt theirs?

Maria probably did.... she was wild like that, but even if she didn't... had their situations been reversed.

It could very well have been Maria standing here, and their would have been no hesitation on her part. The ones that rose through the fallens blood would fall-death.

That's how she made her choice, set her ground. Every Mandalorian she allowed death was an insult to Maria's legacy, and to the life she had now.

An armored one, green and black sought the opinions if the rest

And another, a woman spoke against them. At first she listend to the woman-intently. She made good points in her arguments, she had to admit that.... and that only.

She was right about the source of power, at least in Vix's opinion.... and yet she called them dar'manda! It was this that caused rage to seep through her. The woman invited a shot to the head-one Vix was almost willing to give.... one HK would have happily adhered to had it not been left on the ship.

But no, that would cause nothing but chaos. And so instead she saw fit to take a tighter grip holding her helmet to her side, filtering the rage in this manner.

And then another spoke-and it eas her words thst kept Vix silent, honestly she was the most senisible of the two speakers... her story held a lesson, a valuable one.

And yet still, one word seemed to ring in Vix's head more and more.

Skira

 

[Ral]

Almost no sooner had Ral spoken then did Alora step forward. Turning towards her, Ral raised an eyebrow as he wondered what in the kriffing hell she thought she was doing. As he listened his mind began to race, what was this teenage girl trying to get at? This orphan whose life experience mostly consisted of growing up in the gutter of the trash heap that was Nar Shaddaa. She had only the readings Carii had given her and whatever her buire had told her before they were killed; not a wealth of knowledge or first hand experience by any means. She had not lived through the Civil War, or witnessed what the Crusade did to their people; what their disunity had done following it. They had been so close to unification before the genocide. There were only a few pockets of resistance, a few clans who refused to join the rest, before the Empire began their rain of fire and death on the worlds of the Mandalore Sector. The more Alora talked, the more Ral could feel the fire burning deep inside his heart; she claimed to want unity, but went about it by alienating and ostracizing everyone in that room with her. The fact that she had the nerve to call everyone present Dar'manda nearly caused him to go for his gun. Even for a pragmatic Mandalorian like Ral, who was more of an enigma to those who were more traditional and honor-bound, he found her words to cut deep into his own moral code and personal sense of honor and drove him into a near rage.

Sensing her partner's rising anger, Carii grabbed Ral's wrist, and rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand in an attempt to calm him down. With her touch, Ral remembered to breathe slowly and calmly, counting backwards from ten in his mind. When Alora was done, Ral was about to step forward when he saw Ceres slowly make her way forward. Listening to her words, Ral found himself nodding in relative agreement. While the Mandalorian had known a little of Ceres' history, he knew didn't know everything. He could have guessed that she must have had a rough childhood as she wasn't that old; barely a few years older than Alora probably, but her eyes had a certain weight to them, a certain pain. It was the kind you saw in the eyes of soldiers who had done terrible things. And as she spoke Ral knew her words spoke true. Surviving wasn't enough, there had to be a greater purpose, a nobler purpose. And he most definitely agreed that they shouldn't fight the Sith alone, but then again, with the rebellion they didn't have to fight the Sith alone.

When Ceres had finished, Ral walked up behind her quietly and when he was at her side he put his hand on her shoulder. Giving her a short, but approving nod, Ral spoke, his voice somewhat soft, but appreciative, "Let your experience be a tale of warning for us all, vod."

Turning to face the rest of those in the room Ral spoke, this time a little louder with more authority in his voice. He would not acknowledge the slanderous things Alora said, things that had he less self-control would have caused him to headbutt her into the ground. What she had done was nearly unforgivable, but she was a foolish petulant child and he would waste no more time or energy on her. "Let me remind you all of that song our people once sang in millenia past..." With that, Ral cleared his throat, and began to recite the ancient verses.

"Taung sa rang broka Mando'ade ka'rta.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Manda'yaim kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.

Kom'rk tsad droten troch nyn ures adenn.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Manda'yaim kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a."​

"Hopefully, it will inspire you to join us an rebuild our future together..." Looking at the Mandalorians in the room again, Ral stood still, he glanced at Ceres. "I hope to see more of you in the future, vod. Manda knows you are exactly the kind of person we need. Someone who has seen the terrible things that can happen when we lose sight of our way."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Sisk smiled at Echoyliir and shook his head slightly. It was a genuine smile, carrying up into his eyes and crinkling them at the corners. He knew the clan leaders words had carried to the rest of the gathering, transmitting the Bralor's words to the congregation gathered. This would require delicate handling. "You're right, of course. We are men of action. Words do not become us. I can talk all day but without action my words are worthless." His voice was strong, unwavering, and as he continued he placed his left hand upon his belt and used the right to emphasize his points. "But the fact remains that we need to be unified. Whether behind me or someone else, but we need to unite." He spread his arms and continued.*

"So I issue a challenge. I knew that unity would not come without a cost. If there is any Mando'ade here who doubts me, we shall settle it in the battle circle." And there it was. Mettle would be tested in the old way. Skill against skill alone. It was the old way.

 

[Alora]

- Ni akaani gar, - Alora said in rough voice before she could fully understand what she was doing.
What in the galaxy got into her she could not say, but something pushed her over the edge. Maybe vode, staying deaf to her words, refusing to accept the bitter reality. They still clung to their pride and glory which in fact was worthless today. We're all alone, fighting for ourselves, joining into small groups or bands or squads to achieve a single goal and then breaking up again. Some clans tried their best to stay united and survive, but at terrible costs. Ceres' story proved that.
Ral reminded them the ancient Dha Werda Verda, battle chant sung by mandos for millenia to prepare for battle and put fear into their enemies. But it was not a song, it never should have been sung by a single voice. It was a ritual, a dance if you will, performed by circle or lines of warriors. And not one of them joined in with Ral. That was saying something.
Looking up at the face of Sisk Renelo Alora repeated:
- Ni akaani gar.
He was Mand'alor, if only in name yet. But the ancient way demanded a challenge. No ruler should grab power unquestioned or unchallenged, it creates power hungry tyrants. So Alora challenged him, just to show her people that he can be challenged. She had little hope of winning, since Sisk was a veteran soldier and a seasoned warrior. But she had few tricks up her sleeve as well. And if she can't win at least she can show that he bleeds just as any of them. And if she dies today, it will be for the good cause.
She turned to Carii and said quietly:
- Take care of Zeera, will you?

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Ceres did not knoe the history of the chant ral had recited, she'd never heard it before, and so took the words in as best she could. What she did know was what it said, and she had to admit that warriors in the shadows seemed quite appropriate to her. Sisk proposal made her raise a brow to the man, especially given the circumstances that had brought them all here. Offering up himself for challenge seemed foolish, since it seemed likely sisk would be able to tilt the duel in his favor even if he tried to make it fair, just by the nature that this was his station and he'd most likely hax experience fighting in it.

Her question was answered by Alora issuing a challenge, which made Ceres stare at her with a surprised expression. Alora didn't seem to have the same combat experience as herself, and she knew she couldn't stand up to a vetern warrior like sisk. Ceres couldn't help but wonder if she knew that, and she heard the whisper alora said as she walked towards the girl.

"You can't do this..." Ceres said, walking towards her as her monotone voice bleed with a flicker of concern,"Whatever you think you'll do, Whatever honor you think this is about, you cannot throw your life aside. Not like this...

 

[Ral]

Watching with impassive, cold eyes, Ral found Sisk's open challenge to be quite interesting. Hopefully his willingness to accept a challenge from those who found him unworthy of the title of leader would not cost him his life, nor the life of any other there. Most of the people here were true Mandalorians, as differing as their views might be. Ral believed them to be too few to sacrifice their lives in such a petty pursuit. Hopefully, if someone did accept it was because they had a legitimate grievance with Sisk and his leadership of the Mandalorians, not because they had some stupid complex. And yet, as Sisk spoke the words, Ral could hear Alora accepting it nearby. With a roll of his eyes, Ral turned to face the teenager. Just because she had lived on her own for several years in the belly of Nar Shaddaa did not make her an adult, or at least one worthy and honorable enough to fight Sisk over some petty disagreement. Carii, for her part, seemed just as shocked as Ral was that a sixteen year old girl would dare challenge a battle-hardened warrior with Sisk's experience, not mention his already formidable combat capabilities. As he took a step forward he could hear Ceres speaking, advising Alora in a whisper that she couldn't do this. That this wasn't the way. Stepping forward, Carii nodded. "Alora, please don't. You can't throw your life away so rashly. Surely there will be someone who will wish to challenge Sisk. He didn't summon only his friends to this station, there are old rivals here as well. Don't try and take on the man. No one will take your point seriously if you do."

Unsure if Alora would head Ceres' wise council, Ral opened a comm channel to both Arya and Sisk. At the very least they should know that they were about to have some underage company. "Heads up everyone, the adi'ka Alora is on her way down to challenge Sisk... She's on some self-righteous quest of Mandalorian Honor. I honestly have no idea where this is coming from, but be prepared, if someone doesn't step up, you may find yourself killing a teenager..."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Spoiler: Loco's Post

Arya had been slowly making her way to the back of the room throughout the speech. As much as she wanted to be angry at Sisk, and angry at Ral for insisting they give him this chance, anger wasn't quiet what she felt listening to all of this. It was, essentially, exactly what she had expected. She'd give the man creds for such a well prepared speech and for having enough kriffing decency not to openly call himself Mandalore here, but he immediately lost them for lack of originality. Nothing he said was anything that every person on this station hadn't already thought about. They knew they were lost, and they were broken, and she was willing to bet Cloud City odds that every person here had, at some point, thought of the myriad ways they could strike back at the Empire for what had been done to them. How could they not? Vengeance and war were ingrained into them, deep down in the dregs of the soul where no matter how civilized they became, it would always be waiting.

And so, what she felt instead was exasperation. Maybe even a little depression, she recognized. Her people were going in circles- Sisk Renelo was just the latest loop. As Sisk's speech drew to a close, the noises of everyone else quickly stepped in to take it's place. There were pockets of discussion and argument both here in the room with her. Echoylir's rumbley voice made her sick to her stomach, and through the thick durasteel door she had finally reached, she could hear the shouted arguments echoing throughout the corridor from other rooms around the station. She figured as a matter of course that Sisk would generally walk away from this better off than he had been before. The Mando'ade were desperate for direction- she could sense that just from the air of eager anticipation practically oozing from many of the stations occupants. She couldn't bring herself to feel the same. She had seen and heard all this before, she felt, and even if Sisk could bring the majority of them together- and he probably could, it seemed- Arya Atin'al could not shake the feeling that he would unite them all only to see them destroyed for good. The thought made her want to shut off her voice modulator and scream herself hoarse inside her helmet.

She turned to leave, her breath catching in her chest. She didn't want to be in this room anymore. She couldn't bring herself to look at these people. She just wanted to go back to Ral's ship and get the hell away from this place. Rals transmission broke in on her thoughts just as she reached toward the door controls. Arya gritted her teeth as she listened. She told him she had a bad feeling about all this, and here it was- that dikut'la little girl he'd picked up was going to try her best to get herself killed in front of everyone. Arya clenched her fist over the door controls, and finally bounced it off the durasteel frame as she spun back to face Sisk.

"Verd'ika, if Renelo doesn't kill me fo' this, I'm killin' you." She spat venomously into her helmet comm before pulling off her buy'ce and clipping it to her belt, cutting off any response from Ral. She blew a sharp breath out through her mouth and shook her hands, then took the first step forward. The diminutive woman pushed and shoved her way to through the crowd, working her way to stand a few meters in front of Sisk and his holo-recorder setup.

Arya may not have liked Sisk Renelo very much, and she might even think of him among the worst (right up next to Echoylir) in a long list of bad candidates for Mandalore, but she hadn't come here with any desire to fight him. As much as she thought he was incapable of accomplishing what he wanted to do, that didn't change the fact that he had good and very possibly right intentions. Alora had just taken things out of sensible hands, though she probably didn't have any comprehension of what she'd just done. If Sisk beat the living hell out of the girl- even if he didn't kill her- he'd lose what little good will had been built among the clans here. Nobody would take him seriously for destroying a sixteen year old girl with virtually no experience and not even a proper beskar'gam. Refusing the girls challenge, which was as legitimate as it was stupid, could be far, far worse. Arya had been there and watched personally as Roxton Dagger tried to laugh off Corden's challenge- that single insignificant event had cascaded out of control and plunged the entire Mandalorian society into a rapid death spiral.

It could never be allowed to happen again. The only way Arya could see to save the situation was for someone else to beat Alora to the challenge. Well, she thought, et least I'll finally git to hit him...

"Oi! Ori'buyce, kih'kovid," Arya started loudly enough to be heard over the din, her gut clenching tightly- the insult would not go unnoticed- she tucked a locke of yellow-gold hair behind her ear, "If it'll make you stop talkin' fo' one second of you' di'kut'sheb life, I'll take you' chellenge, yeh? Old Bettle Circle. No beskad, no bleste's."

Sisk watched Echoylir walk away and sighed. He hadn't expected anything less of the Bralor leader. He had hoped that the old Bralor would have at least listened instead of dismissing everything that Sisk had brought them here to hear, but apparently it just wasn't to be. The old Alor just was to stuck in the old ways, to blinded by his own past that he couldn't see that Sisk was doing the honorable thing, the only thing that could be done. And if he must fight, he would. For the good of the Mandalorians. Perhaps Bralor would come to the fold, perhaps not. It was something Sisk would have to work for, and right now he wasn't sure if he was willing to. Clan Bralor had always pushed back against anyone but Vencu, and Sisk had his own thoughts about that. Perhaps he should have challenged Echoylir directly but for now that was thought for later.

He turned to face Arya and nodded his head slowly. "I accept your challenge, Arya Atin'al, and your terms. As always, the one who delivers the first true wound is the victor, and to step outside the circle means you must stand down. There will be no death in my home today." His fingers flashed quickly, motioning to a Renelo verd to go prepare the battle circle. Without a word the warrior disappeared into the depths of the station to the sparring room to prep the ancient way of settling grudges. Sisk had to admire the woman. The only reason she stepped forward at all was to save the foolish young girl that Ral Aran had brought here. To be willing to sacrifice yourself for someone you barely knew... It reminded Sisk of why the Mandalorians were considered family.

"I understand that Clan Ordo has retreated to the arms of the Rebellion. If you fall you will send them to me, as well as swear your loyalty. If I lose, myself and my Clan will join the Rebellion proper." The terms laid out, he turned to face the young Mandalorian who had entered through the far hatch, clothed not in beskar'gam, but in simple armored plates. Not even a buy'ce hung from her hip. His eyes narrowed as he observed her, and he lingered a moment before speaking.

"And you, Alora Sing, have no right to challenge a true warrior of the Clans. Although you are of age you are not a warrior yet. And although you survived the streets of Nar Shaddaa, it is something that millions of orphans have done. It is not a verd'goten, and thus you are still but a ge'verde, unable to challenge those who stand above you. You think to prove me weak and dishonorable, but I will not taint my name against one who has never even held a true beskad in their fist, who has never charged a line with her vode at her side. And in your haste to prove your moral superiority you have caused someone else to step forward to fight in your stead. Those are not the actions of a warrior, but of a petulant child." For the first time, his voice was cold, angry, hard.

"And until you have been deemed a warrior you will sit and hold your tongue. You are in my home and I will not tolerate actions that bring shame upon you and your people. Respect among the Mando'ade is earned, not given, and as of right now you have earned nothing but disdain.. Your words are hollow, echoes of a time that no longer exists, and until the Sith are gone will not exist again. By insulting those who have earned their place you bring dishonor to yourself and shame to the memories of your Clan. Once you have earned a stripe or two in combat perhaps you will be worthy to speak at a gathering but for now you will choose to hold your tongue or I will have you gagged." Such impudence! A girl who had no idea of who she truly was trying to teach those who had bled and died for their fellows how to be Mando'ade! If she had been part of his Clan penitence and reflection through combat would be ordered at the hands of a taskmaster until a lesson had been learned, but thankfully she was not.

Sisk turned on his heel to lead Arya through the twisting corridors, knowing that the feed to the other rooms would be cut off until they reached the Circle. But once there a connection would be established to allow those gathered to watch the duel and decide for themselves who truly held a claim to lead.

Off of one of the hangar bays sat a sparring room, 15 by 15 meters, with a 7 meter circle inscribed on the floor. The walls were lined with multiple blades and staffs of varying sizes and forms, but all of them held a deadly look characteristic to Mandalorian weapons. Sisk removed his gunbelt, slid the beskad from their sheaths, and then handed them in a bundle to a member of the wherda standing nearby. His place in the circle stood on the far side and he slid a pair of combat knives, 6 inches long and razor sharp from their places at his belt. A turn on his heel brought him to face her, and he saluted in the old way, a fist to his heart and a nod of the head. "May honor guide your hand, Arya Atin'al."

 

[Alora]

- Make up your mind for once. One moment you tell all of us that the traditions of our people are absolute and should be discarded and the next you hide from a fight behind the tradition you discarded yourself one minute ago. And who said I cant challenge you because I haven't passed verd'goten? Is there a code or book of rules hidden somewhere? For I haven't heard about such conditions. You said "anyone may challenge me". I did. Now you're hiding from a fight against a young girl? - Alora smirked. - That's... sad.
She spit on the floor in disdain.
- I hope Arya will teach you some manners. And I never asked anyone to step up in my place. If Arya does that, it's her own choice and you have no right to throw that into my face.
With that she turned to Ral Aran.
- I'm done here, I won't be part of this man's madness, that will lead our people to death and oblivion. I ask you kindly to drop me off to Nar Shaddaa or any other inhabited world you can. I won't burden you anymore.
With those last words she walked out of the room.

 

[Hasanna Everglade]

Immaturity

She didn't know Alora, didn't claim to-but despite that her actions to her...... didn't seem becoming of a warrior. Denied of a battle due to inexperience seemed a far better option than the alternate. If what she heard of was any indication it was likely to happen to Alora-instead she stomped out.

Minus one mando from the call

And yet... she found herself much more interested in another battle, one whos ideal was sensible, well placed.

"Where will it go..."

She muttered breafly,this day she had no desire to battle, however that didn't mean she couldnt witness this battle, it had heavily implications for many mandos... what direction would this go?

 

[Ral]

As Ral watched the exchange with silent contempt for the entire situation, he sighed, his broad shoulders shrugging slightly at the motion. This was not what he had wanted, not what he had hoped for when he came here. Alora was being foolish, challenging Sisk. He had just saved her honor and from humiliation, and yet she wonders whose right it is to deny her a challenge. The answer was perfectly obvious. "It is Sisk's right to not besmirch his honor by dueling you adi'ka, for there would be no honor, no glory in beating you. This is his station, his home, if he does not wish to belittle himself by fighting someone less than half his age who cannot be called a verd, that is entirely within his power to do so. And Arya did you a kindness..."

The Mandalorian watched a cadre of Sisk's maroon armored verde approach as Alora began to storm out. This was not going to be pretty. Calling out after her he stated simply, "When I brought you here it was to watch and learn..."

As he spoke one of the warriors aimed their rifle and fired. The arcing blue circles of the weapon's stun mode enveloped the teenage girl causing her body to go suddenly stiff before falling over. Ral did not envy Alora the headache she would have when she awoke. Without wasting a second the warriors grabbed the limp body and put binders around her hands and feet, and tied a cloth around her head to gag her. The Mandalorian sighed as he looked down at the durasteel floor. This just kept getting worse and worse. "She should have listened when Sisk said to keep her mouth shut or she'd be gagged." One of the verd stated.

"That may be, but she is still my ward." Kneeling he looked at the girl and whispered in her ear. "Next time, be worthy to fight the man before you challenge him." Back to the verd, "Take her to my ship, my bes'uliik will watch over her. Make sure she is securely fastened. I don't want her getting free." Ral felt bad for the teenager. She had just been rescued from that crap world, and now she wanted to go back because she didn't want to be a part her own people. They weren't perfect, Ral would give the girl that, but they were making due with the best they had. Alora wanted them to be the Mandalorians of old, but things change, times change. If the Mando'ade did not keep up with the changing Galaxy they would be left behind. And Ral would not let the girl go back to that cesspool of a planet. He would set up a place where she could thrive and hopefully learn about respect and honor on the battlefield.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

"This...is foolish." Ceres said as she watched the series of what she might consider insanity unfolding before her, a duel happening for seemingly no other reason then honor, the foolish young girl trying to throw her life away as some sort of point on tradition, and all around a sense that nobody wanted to do anything but play out whatever the old ways might have been, or do their own thing without anything else being considered.

They should have been uniting, organizing, finding a way to not only survive, but also fight the sith. Instead, they were now battling to see whose vision would lead the small sect of mandalorians who actually gave a damn about this, and weren't already having their minds set. Ceres own thoughts were even doing the same, as she thought to the Corusca, and the rebellion, and wondered if any of their leaders would bother with a duel over besmirched honor when their survival hang in the balance.

As she watched Alora being escorted back towards Ral ships, under ral's instructions, she tilted her head curiously towards him. She walked up to him from behind, moving to his side as she looked towards him, an unreadable expression on her features, "Who do you think should win this duel, Ral Aran?" She asked, looking back towards sisk and arya, "Given the terms for victory stated."