Suum ca'nara - An Interlude to War

[Rom]

The thrum of the repulsorlifts slowly faded from the troop bay of the transport shuttle returning from a victorious engagement on some far-flung world in the ether of the galaxy as it docked with a Mandalorian Fleet cruiser to make its journey back to the Homeworld.. A rabble of verde disembarked, laughing and singing, patting each other on the back. The Alliance had fought harder than usual, but the kandosii mandokarla of the mando'ade had prevailed. For them, it was a time of celebration... Yet, a single verd remained on the shuttle looking over a data pad and memorizing the list of names it held, the dim light reflecting off of the blue and grey paint on the battered looking suit of beskar'gam.

Declan muted the external speaker to his armor and released a sigh. Twelve dead verde this engagement. Stars knew how many had died on the medical transport that rushed ahead of them; he would have to stop in the med-center and check on his vode. The young Lorrdian chuckled silently and stood from the bench, ignoring the field stitches stretching beneath the bacta patches that covered his muscular frame beneath his armor. No one expected an unrelated Mandalorian to put so much time and caring into another mando'ad, but Declan always had to be different.

Kebiin Cabur had a responsibility to his brothers, and it was one Declan took seriously.

Swinging the beige hooded coat up over his shoulders, the blue armored Mando grabbed his pack and set out from the hanger, a plan rucksack dangling from one hand and bouncing lightly against the holster on his thigh. His body cried out for rest, but he needed interaction with someone beyond staunching their wounds as he flew them out of the kill zone or placing bolts betwixt their eye sockets.

'I'll go to the cantina, just for a little while. I can sleep when I'm dead.'

Shuffling around a pair of batnor verde, Declan took his helmet off and waved back at a group of warriors from his transport, happily accepting a glass of tihaar from a red armored woman speaking in rapid fire mando'a. Her husband had been left behind when the lines first shifted during the beginning of the last battle, assumed dead. Declan had gone back and found him in the middle of being surrounded and got the wounded man back to their new camp.

Declan hated the praise, feeling that fighting for his vode was no different than what any other mando,'ad would do, but he certainly wouldn't refuse a free drink. Nodding his thanks, the tired Lorrdian knocked the glass back, the fiery spirit helping to deaden the constant thrum of pain his body emitted and collapsed in a lounging position in one of the booths along the wall. Removing his bes'bev from its sheath under his kama, Declan fiddled absent-mindedly with the instrument/weapon, considering whether anyone would mind him playing a few tunes.

Shrugging, Declan lifted the instrument and began to softly play the well known war hymn Vode An. If anyone wanted to complain, they were more than welcome too, but for now the young warrior just wanted to relax and forget; for at the start of the new day more names would be added to his daily remembrance, and he wouldn't be able to forget that battle ever again.

 

[Vencu]

"Su'cuy." Coro flashed a toothy grin as he halted near the opposite end of the booth, brandishing a bottle of ne'tra gal--the most famous of the traditional Mandalorian ales-- in one of his gloved hands, "A bottle for a seat, vod?"

Most warriors here knew his face from the many HoloNet advertisements he had done for MandalMotors or they had heard his name mentioned when speaking of MandalMotors or its most successful designs. Some knew him from his time as a pilot or when he had been the commander of a warship. He wouldn't be all that surprised if this warrior recognized him. As for the Kebiin Cabur, he had become quite famous himself, though Coro knew little more than his reputation. He wanted to meet the man in person and what better way than over a bottle of one of the finest ales in the known galaxy?

 

[Rom]

Failing to keep a surprised look off of his face, Declan gestured towards the seat with a flustered grin before saying, "Olarom, vod! Please, have a seat.. though I don't think any seat with me is quite worth *that* bottle." Declan was still having trouble believing this strange turn of events. The head of MandalMotors was sitting across from him. This man had built and designed some of the models that Declan himself eyed covetously, he was one of the most powerful men in the Mandalorian sector... and he was sitting with some nothing vhett turned verd from Concordia. He was also a famed pilot and war leader in space combat, skills that Declan himself pursued and admired. Twirling his bes'bev inbetween his fingers before putting it point first into the table-top, the young verd gestured at a passing waiter droid to drop off two cups for the booth.

"Can I just say, if you don't mind, the newest dropship you guys have come out with looks amazing. I've been dying to give it a spin! I've been out of touch for awhile recently... did you release a medical variant yet? Because the current ones my verde are using are osik.... no offense." Declan winced; he tended to ramble when he was nervous.

 

[Vencu]

Coro slid into the booth, just opposite the other warrior. The droid rolled up and placed two crystalline mugs on the tabletop, both of them covered in frost.

"Well, that's a new one. Crystal... I didn't think I warranted such an extravagance. I didn't even think this place had anything that... nice."

The droid answered Coro in a droning monologue, making reference to the brewer's mark and seal, which had been engraved into both the wax-topped cork and the bottle itself. Then it began to list the favorable characteristics of the region from which the ale originated. It said putting such a fine brew in anything less than a mug composed of a material that kept a chill for longer would be a crime. Clearly, the droid knew ales. Clearly, Coro thought, it was annoying as all haran.

"Fine, fine... Crystal it is, then. Top us off already." Coro rolled his eyes. He knew better than to argue with that antiquated pile of scrap and bolts on wheels. He made a mental note to purchase a new one for the Oyu'baat. One that didn't prattle on about nothing for hours if you let it.

"The Vee-A-A-Tee?" Coro began, unclipping his helmet from his belt and placing it up on the table, just off to the side of the bes'bev. He reached for the closer of the two mugs and took a swig, "We just began fielding a new model based off the infantry variant. Instead of a multi-launcher or hyperdrive, it has its own bacta tank and a dozen detachable stretchers. The stretchers stack like bunks and have their own health monitors built-in. It can fit twenty warriors easily, but the crew would need to ditch the surgical table."

 

[Rom]

Declan raised his eyebrow in surprise at the droning qualities that the serving droid was exhibiting. He had dealt with annoying droids before but... wow. 'Note to self; find out what programming this beskar'ad has and avoid it for S3N-T10L...' Shaking his head in exasperated amusement, the Lorrdian mando'ad raised his crystal glass in salute to the other verd. "I don't think I've ever even held a gai'ka as fine as this... usually when I order here I'm lucky to get a tin they pulled some food from. Give an innocent compliment to the bartender's ad, and you may as well be dar'manda in this place."

Taking a sip of the ale, Declan felt his eyes widen at the sweet taste of the black ale; he usually stuck with cheap tihaar, so the famed ne'tra gal was essentially the mana of the gods to his unrefined tastes. "Wayii! I've gotta savor this; so this is what being a ship designer brings, me'ven? Access to the best ale on Manda'yaim and the respect of the Oyu'baat wait staff? Sign me up, vod." Smirking, the verd took another drink from the crystal glass, feeling the strong ale begin to settle his own nerves. Now he may be able to talk without making himself look like a di'kut. Joy.

"Yeah, the Vee A A Tee is a beautiful ship, I've been waiting to see my akaata get a shipment, but we've been slumming it with some of the spares from the fleet. Apparently I wreck too many of them to warrant getting the newest models." Snorting derisively about war-time politics Declan drummed his fingers along the table top, the heavy thud of metal striking metal drawing attention to his metallic arm. "Eh, may as well not even include the surgery table if I get one. Most of the baar'ur refuse to come along when I head back to the front during my shukur from battle in the flying osik we have now. Say I fly too recklessly and we don't have enough skilled healers without me getting one killed every few hours."

Sighing at the unhappy memory of his final search and rescue run before they left the battlefield, the young Mandalorian knocked back his entire glass in one go and let out a sigh. "So, what brings a man of such quality to my humble corner of the Oyu'baat?" His voice was even and friendly, an amused glint in his one natural eye visible next to the barely visible glow of the artificial one.

 

[Vencu]

"Curiosity, I suppose." Coro intoned, raising his mug to his lips once more and taking another sip, "I've heard a lot about you in recent months, but never put a face to a name. Someone told me they called you the Kebiin bit because you were Chiss and Cabur because you had this habit of leaping into burning buildings to save little ade and climb veshok to rescue a stranded feline when the occasion presented itself. So you see, I had to get the right of it... Do you really rescue cats from trees?"

Coro grinned. It was quite obvious that the question was little more than a joke.

 

[Rom]

Declan laughed at the suggestion that he was a Chiss, the scarred flesh around his eyes crinkling with amusement as he leaned back against his side of the booth. "While I wouldn't mind the whole glowing eyes thing, I don't think I could deal with being *that* kebiin.. I'm not quite that reliable!" Chuckling and pouring himself a little more of the ale, the scarred warrior snorted at the rumors that were flying around the Clans in his absence. He was a lover of stories, and tended to tell tall tales himself, but he should at least get some input in them before ones about him were spread around.

"I'll have you know that I've only rushed into a burning building to rescue a child once, vod... but it was an orphanage and I blasted out a window with my jetpack as the ceiling was caving in with 15 ade forming a daisy chain in my arms." Grinning widely, the younger verd leaned in conspiratorially and murmured, "And the only time I've got a feline out of a tree was the time I shot a Cathar out of one."

Declan didn't feel an ounce of guilt for the latter joke; that Cathar had been a sniper, and was responsible for wounding or killing fifteen verde.

 

[Vencu]

"If there was a word for hero in Mando'a, I suppose they'd use it on you... well, discounting the Cathar. If he was truly stuck in that tree, I imagine shooting him out puts you back a few notches." Coro flashed another grin and then finished off what little ale was left in his mug. After a moment, he took on a more serious tone of voice, "He was a sniper, I assume?"

As he spoke, Coro lifted the bottle of ne'tra gal and poured himself another round. The mug itself was still ice-cold and though he hated to admit that the droid had been right, the ale really did taste better chilled.

 

[Rom]

"Osik!"Declan ducked his head with embarrassment. He could understand why some people would think of him as a hero, but he was not fond of the title. "I do only what any other verd would do for their fellow mando'ade[/I]. Im just a little keen on it, that's all!" Letting his amused tone fade out, the younger warrior nodded at the question, his voice taking on a low growl-like tone. "Aye, he was a huu'tunn mongrel. He killed fifteen of our finest Verde during that battle. He tried to make me his sixteenth... well, I thought differently." Clenching his left hand hard around the goblet, Declan took a long drink of the ale and set the goblet down, ignoring the cracks in the crystal cup while his hand reaching up to clench the zakkeg ear painted in the colors of Bralor he had claimed during his verd'goten; one of the final links to his youth that still remained on this plane of existence.

"I batiirmy vode, and I would do anything for them. I fight for them, I carry them home. If they pass into the manda, then I remember, so that they are nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la <<Not gone, merely marching far away>>. If the time comes, I would gladly pass into the manda for them. That is why they call me Kebiin Cabur On the battlefield, I will give my kar'ta and runi to safeguard theirs without hesitation. And should I fail, I make sure that even if there is no one at home waiting for their return, that I will remember their names until my final breath.

But I'm not a hero, vod. For every verd who will clap my back and toast my name, dozens more died far from home because I wasn't strong or fast enough to be there when they needed someone to guard their six."

Bowing his head under the weight of the dead, Declan powered on the data pad and slid it across the table towards his drinking companion turned therapist, the updated list of casualties on the screen shining brightly in the darkened bar. "With the addition of these names at dawn, my daily remembrance will be two hours long. I'm no Hero... I'm just trying to play the part."

And with that, the young Mandalorian took up his cup and drained the entire thing, drowning his failure and bile under the best ale a reputation could buy.

 

[Vencu]

"From the sound of it, you've brought quite a few back from the brink of death. Not everyone will understand that kind of dedication, but the galaxy could certainly do with a few more men like you, vod." Coro lowered his mug to the tabletop and shot a curt nod of respect toward Declan, "It's admirable, but also very necessary. Bolstered ranks or no, we can't treat our warriors like many other governments do. Ours are never expendable. They are all valuable and you clearly understand that."

Coro lifted his mug in the air between them, but he turned to face outward, eyes scanning over the other patrons.

"Oya, vode! To the Kebiin Cabur! May we always have men like him to watch our shebse on the battlefield!"

Some of the other warriors were stunned at the toast, especially those that had talked down to Declan before, but the lot of them quickly joined in with their own shouts and cheers. If Coro Kevara approved of the man, he must have merit.

 

[Kiro]

"A good toast." A lone, female voice cuts through the throng of cheers and cries of Oya! A voice with a curious, yet distinct, blend of a Coruscanti and Norg Bral accent. And one that could belong to only one warrior on all of Mandalore: Shere Bralor. As Coro and Declan turned their heads, they'd clearly be able to see the aging woman walking up to the bar in her equally distinctive off-white armour with it's many animal hides and pelts. All hunting trophies. Slung over one shoulder was a simple canvas sack, and over the other was the woman's expensive, custom-built, Verpine sniper rifle.

"Long time no see, boys." Shere comments as she takes a seat next to the two, and unslinging her rifle to rest against the bar, and places her sack gingerly on the floor, which she then promptly opens and pulls out a few items: Several bottles of clear liquid, which she hands to the bartender, and a lump of metal ore which she passes along to Coro. "The East mine struck a new vein. Foreman thinks it'll run for several miles. A sample for you and your boys at MandalMotors to examine."

 

[Rom]

Declan ducked his head, hiding the blush that rapidly spread across his face with a mix of the ale and the sudden toast his newest vod had made. While he was beginning to get used to individual praise, a roomful of verde raising their glasses and cheering his name was an entirely new experience. Feeling the weight of the dead lighten on his shoulders, the Lorrdian allowed a true smile to stretch across his scarred face, showing his gratitude towards the people in the bar. He was Mando'ad, and these were his brothers and sisters. With their support, he would gladly face down all the legions of Coruscant with only his tracy'uure and gaanure at his side. And emerge victorious.

A clear voice rang out over the cheering, one that Declan had not in ages. Snapping his head up, the young Mandalorian's eyes trained around the room until he found his target; a white armored Mando'ad covered in furs. Grinning widely, Declan snapped his fist over his chest and bowed his head at the caretaker and renowned Hunter of aliit Bralor. "Su'cuy! It has been far too long, vod. How fare your hunts these days?"

 

[Vencu]

Coro raised an eyebrow at Shere, then turned his focus to the ore she had placed in front of him. Removing one of his gloves, he retrieved the small lump and held it up to the light, examining it more closely. He flashed a broad, appreciative grin toward Shere. When the two were finished talking, he spoke up.

"If you ever get tired of that ruug'la chakaar of a husband, you'll consider me as a potential suitor, right? I mean, I love you. We don't have to get married just yet or move in with each other. I'll settle for gifts like this one for now... so long as the shipments are frequent and of a larger quantity..." He trailed off, still grinning from ear to ear.

 

[Kiro]

Shere shook her head with a smirk at Coro's comment, while the bartender returned with one of the clear bottles she'd brought with her, and three small glasses. These three glasses were then filled up with the clear liquid, and passed around to the elderly Bralor woman, the MandalMotors CEO, and the Blue Guardian. "Oh Cor'ika, even if I did you wouldn't even know what to do with me." She then picks up one of the small glasses of tihaar and raises it in a salute to the two young men before her, and then washes it down, enjoying the burn in her throat, before slamming the glass back onto the bar-top.

"Drink up. It's a Bralor recepie, as old as the Norg itself." And even if Clan Bralor hadn't been famous for being the historians and keepers of tradition amongst the Mandalorian clans, tough and honest hard-working people, or skilled mercenaries with a trend for siege warfare, their famed tihaar and their skills in destilling the potent alcohol would have ensured their place in Mandalorian history books. Indeed, the recepie the current Bralors followed was the same as Rav Bralor used during the days of the Clone Wars, and used the same small red fruits. "As for my hunting, it's been alright. Not much chance of going off-world for some challenging prey, but the shataul fill the larder none the less."

 

[Rom]

Grinning widely, Declan returned the salute and knocked back the alcohol with a light huff as the tihaar burned down his throat and pooled in his midsection like liquid fire. "Whoo... let it never be said that my aliit are nothing but a bunch of know it alls with the forge and battle always on their mind; that's the best tihaar I've had in a long time.... shame about the hunting; I haven't gotten much chance to go for one either. Too busy pulling some Ordo shebe out of the fire." The Lorrdian said this loudly, causing some of the verde in his battle group to turn and make obscene gestures, laughing to show they weren't truly offended.

"Well, Im certainly feeling blessed tonight. Caretaker of my Clan and the CEO of MandalMotors at my table, and neither pointing a blaster at my head... ah well, the night is young." In truth, Declan wasn't sure where the night was going; he was aware however that he was rapidly getting much drunker than he had planned.

 

[Vencu]

After downing his own glass of Bralor tihaar and offering up an appreciative grin, he slid out from the booth and stood, grabbing his helmet one-handed as he did. He held the lump of ore out in front of himself for emphasis, his thumb and index finger holding it perfectly still.

"Well, vode, I've got to run. I need to get this sample analyzed as soon as possible. If this is pure and there's as much of it as that Bralor foreman claims, it will change everything. Mandalore will be back on the map. More so than it already is, anyway. It was a honor to finally meet the Kebiin Cabur... as for you, Shere. I haven't given up on you just yet... Ret' par jii, vode."

After saying his farewell, he turned to leave, navigating through the maze of tables and patrons to reach the exit.