Open Mandalore Vizsla Family Values

[Arthos Vizsla]

Lothal was conquered after a not inconsiderable amount of effort – but that just made it better in Arthos’ opinion. There was nothing truly to be gained by steamrolling over weaklings, it didn’t prove the superiority of the Mandalorian cause to beat people barely able to raise a weapon in the defence of their loved ones. No, it had been hard-fought and hard-won because they had battled against Jedi!

One of two ancient enemies.

With the planet subjugated and the Jedi routed or killed, Clan Vizsla had called back some of its key members to Mandalore to discuss “further supporting the war effort”. As far as Arthos could see, it was likely a chance for the Alor and their elders to discuss ways in which the Clan could become indispensable to the new Mand’alor through schemes.

Rather than just spending more time with Mand’alor and his armies, doing the work of the crusade as they had been called to do. As his ship was coming in toward the Clan compound on Mandalore itself, Arthos let out a breath.

“Bak-Ru. Keep your back straight and your eyes forward.” He told his new Vod with a slight growl to his voice, “They might not be happy you’re here.”

Landing on the landing pad, he could see already a small crowd of armoured clan-members and he recognized his adopted mother anywhere by the shining golden helmet she wore. Patting Bak-Ru on the shoulder as he passed, Arthos stepped out of his ship to greet them.

“Buir.”

The Vizsla woman stiffened at his voice, eyeing him warily.

“You have armoured yourself more. I hope you actually earned it.” She cut back, eyeing the ship and Bak-Ru as well, “I see the rumours from Lothal were true – you couldn’t even kill the enemy. Hut’uun.”

Typically Arthos would have been cowed by his overbearing Buir but after having thrown himself into a war? Standing toe to toe with a Sith Lord and telling him, to his face, that his blood wasn’t good enough? She felt smaller to him.

“If the rest of Clan Vizsla feels the same then I shall meet those words.” He returned with a frown, “But right now they’re just wind.”

Pushing past his Buir, Arthos would lead Bak-Ru to the center of the Vizsla Clan Compound – the bar and grill. It was already filling up with people who wanted to vote on if Bak-Ru would actually become a Vizsla or not and if Arthos should be punished for extending the offer in the first place. Reaching the bar, Arthos ordered two large beers and pushed one to Bak-Ru.

“You like spicy meats? Cus that’s a lot of what we have here.”

@Howie Boy
Vizslas also invited: @GABA @Arcangel @Sreeya @Painus

 

[Bak-Ru Shooska]

Bak-Ru's helmet shifted towards Arthos. With only a slight nod he acknowledged the words of his superior before turning his gaze forward. It had only been a short time since Lothal was conquered, but it felt like a lifetime ago to the young Weequay warrior. Almost as if he had died on that battleground and been reborn. In a sense he had. His name was gone, his beliefs were shaky and shifting. A hint of his old self was still there, raging against the tides of change with only time left to tell which way fate would take him. Well...time and the rest of clan Vizsla that he was about to be presented to. Emotion and belief be damned if they deemed him unworthy. Hopefully the execution would be quick if they cast a no vote his way.

Although this had set heavy upon his shoulders an odd sense of calm came over him as he and Arthos flew closer to to the Vizsla compound. Though he may meet his end here there was something about finding out what fate had in store for him that brought an ease. Bak-Ru would ignore the growl that hung to Arthos' words. The Mandalorian would have his own reasons for any apprehension, but Bak would heed his message. As they exited the ship he would keep his posture formal and his gaze fixed ahead. After a less than warm greeting with a Buir, the definition of the word slipped his mind at the moment, they would carry on towards a bar that made up the center of the compound.

A beer would find its way in front of Bak-Ru. No need to die sober. He removed his helmet and held it between his body and forearm, with his free hand he would raise the glass and take a long pull. "Yes, very much so." The thought of spicy foods brought a slight grin to his face. Like many desert people throughout the galaxy he had been raised on the stuff. "My..." He had been about to say people before he let the word slip away. Bak-Ru was a Vod now. "I ate a lot during my upbringing." The correction was made. "What's on the menu?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Kyp]

Kyp the Lepi foundling of Clan Vizsla was also here, garbed in his now-a-bit-more-faded yellow armor. He actually hadn't been present for the conquest of Lothal, indeed he hadn't been present for much of the new Mandalorian regime and partnership with the Sith. This wasn't because he opposed it - indeed, he had taken up many jobs from the Sith before and liked them more than the Jedi - but, rather, because he'd been on another offworld mercenary job. Like all of his jobs, he had sent most of the credits he earned back to Clan Vizsla. He could see the effects of his efforts as he was very certain those guard droids hadn't been there the last time he'd been there. Or those light fixtures for that matter. Although he certainly wasn't the only Vizsla sending money back, he knew he was one of a handful. No one had bothered to thank him for the effort.

In his youth, Kyp had been enamored with tales of the Vizsla heroes. People like Pre Vizsla and Paz Vizsla - these were names that echoed throughout the young foundling's ears as he desperately wanted to become a part of the clan. But as any society was wont to do with outsiders, he had been mocked for his passion, different appearance, foundling status. Kyp had shouldered the mockery and the disrespect as well as one could and these days, kept his distance from most of the rest of the clan by taking mercenary jobs and sending the money back home.

No longer.

This new Mandalorian movement had awoken something inside the Lepi and he was no longer content to wish the Clan would accept him and appreciate hias efforts. Even though some in the Clan did, the elders certainly had not and Kyp was no longer alright with it. He hadn't even received an invite to this meeting - only hearing it secondhand from another Vizsla friend. Childhood slights are a difficult thing for an angry man to shake off and Kyp was not looking to be an exception to that rule.

"Glad to see you've arrived. All of you." the normally quiet Kyp began, looking at each Mandalorian present as he began talking, turning up the volume in his helmet to full blast so everyone assembled could hear this.

"There's been talk of meeting today to support the war effort. And when I heard the call, it made me laugh. Because what the hell do our elders know about war when it was under their watch that our clan became what it was - a scattered bunch of nobodies, barely eking out a living. How is Vizsla's chancellor supposed to command us into battle when he wasn't even there to retake our palace on Mandalore? Or when we stormed Concordia. I should know he wasn't there because I was."

"I've been there for this Clan in more ways than one my whole life. I've shed blood, I've won battles, and I've gone toe-to-toe with Jedi. And what do I have to show for it?!? A membership in a Clan that's gone to shit? Well, fuck that. How are we supposed to make ourselves indispensible to our new Mand'alor when these are our leaders?"

"I've heard musings in the Outer Rip that our ancestral ship, The Gauntlet has been located. The secrets and glory of Pre Vizsla could be ours for the taking if we were to find it! I have been around the galaxy and met many warriors and found many allies - we could strengthen our own ranks easily with them. Clan Vizsla is strong enough where we conquer entire systems for our new Mand'alor!"

"But to do all of that, we need a new change in leadership and I'm willing to challenge anyone who says otherwise..." Kyp concluded darkly, looking around at all of the Vizsla elders and warriors, the last remnant of a once-ruling clan. Whatever happened next would be vital.

@Nefieslab @Howie Boy

 

[Shale Vizsla]

Shale was reconnecting with the clans after the initial assault on Lothal completed. It was a grueling effort, but the Mandalorians came out victorious in the end. When Vizsla called for a meeting like this, in many ways it made her happy. They hadn’t had a gathering like this in some time with how fragmented they were. In fact, most were spread out in all corners of the galaxy living only for themselves. Mandalorian values and family ties were abandoned and forgotten.

There was a different energy tonight as the clan gathered around to celebrate the Lothal victory. Shale was already at the bar, nursing a glass of net’ra gal. She turned to look when Arthos entered, a moment of silence falling as others began to take in sight of the outsider. The sight made her uneasy and she rose to stand, moving towards the pair.

“What the hell is this?” Shale stated flatly, looking from Arthos, to the outsider, and then back at Arthos. She was already bristling at the sight and the armor. Before she had an answer, another began to loudly give a speech out of the blue. Shale stared in silence towards the Lepi, hearing him out for a moment. It was exactly the kind of bullshit that took place in the moots. And to make things worse, he sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone.

“Shut the hell up,” Shale called out before he was halfway done with his dramatic speech, “Our first order of business is to figure out why the fuck there’s an armored auretii in here,” She pointed back at Arthos and his pet project.

@Nefieslab @Howie Boy @Fantasy Liver

 

[Tzila Vizsla]

So was this like a family reunion that she saw on holo sitcoms? Everyone had a role they played, some members accepted you, others spoke highly of you, and then there were those, everyone knew they didn't talk about them. So far there wasn't a laugh track audio that followed, but things were pretty interesting overall as she took a moment to see who had arrived so far to this gathering. Immediately she spotted the bar and walked over to get herself a pint before deciding to mingle among the rest of them.

She noted the helmeted gazes shifting and a quiet grew as Shale approached their host, Arthos with his new... "Huh...interesting..." she hummed, pushing her helmet up just enough to take a sip of her ale and hearing Shale call out the literal bantha in the room. It was a curious sight to behold, the auretii stood out, awkwardly and naturally suspiciously, or at least she thought he did. Someone begun rambling a speech of some sort in the background and Tzila was relieved when they were interrupted so they could focus on Arthos. The woman set down her glass and approached closer in case things turned chaotic, though it would be nice if they could drink for a little longer before they started choke holds and jaw cracks.

Regardless, she too was just as curious as to why Arthos' plus one was far from what they expected.

 

[Gett'se Vizsla]

It was a gathering of Clan Vizsla, of sorts. The Alor had called a strategy meeting and most of the clan had returned to Mandalore with only a token force left on Lothal for the moment. Gett'se had formed his opinion on Lothal about the leadership of the Clan, their lack of representation. The enemy had already routed when they fired their first shots in the battle. Gett'se knew. Gett'se had been there, before their leaders when the fighting was thickest.

Gett'se stewed in his quiet anger at their leaders as he stirred a stew thick vegetable stew in a great cauldron, its heavily seasoned smell intermixing with the smoke from the stew's cook fire. An armorer had provided the forge over which a large animal carcass hung, spinning on a spit. Gett'se's eyes peered happily through the slit of his visor as he observed the crowd. It was more Vizsla's that Gett'se had ever seen in one place. A sea of blue, black, and white. With the odd colorful bunch here and there.

Gett'se's eyes narrowed as he caught another sight. An aruetii walked among them, wearing sacred Beskar'gam. His feet scuffed the sand and glass of their home. Gett'se had killed men on this soil for what this aruetii was doing. He could tell by the way he held himself. The way he walked in the iron skin. He walked like a fresh helmed foundling still uncertain of how to manage the weight of their buyce.

He left the stew to simmer.

Gett'se began to walk towards the pair while Shale confronted them, her attention caught as another Vizsla shouted claims of power and challenge. He ignored them. There were greater matters to attend to first. Matters of faith. Gett'se walked up to the aruetii, to stand directly in front of him. Visor inches from his face. He spoke.

"This land is sacred Arthos," He began in Mando'a. He would not let basic sully his lips in this place, now. His foot shifted in the sand to crush glass grains under his heel. "You bring an outsider here, when the crusade has been called. An enemy." He did not look away from the aruetiise eyes and though the weequay would not see it he would certainly feel the intensity of Gett'se's gaze. An intensity that might suggest if he looked away, it would be his last act. "Did you teach him the tongue too." It was not a question.

"You walk on our sands. You drink our beer. You wear our skin." He maintained eye contact with the man as his heart roared with righteous anger but in the back of his mind he was considering all the possibilities. "You walk into our camp, wearing the color of our souls as if that skin is yours." Was that what Arthos was thinking in this choice. Had he claimed this man as a foundling. What sort of man was he to claim an enemy whom he had fought in battle as his child. What sort of child had he claimed.

"Explain yourselves." If the aruetii had been taught the tongue, perhaps he might have some idea of what he was talking about. Perhaps Arthos would translate. Gett'se didn't really care. If Kad willed that one of the two's blood be spilled on the sand that day, then by Kad Ha'rangir it would be done. Gett'se would fade into the Manda or this aruetii would go to whatever hell his people believed in.

And if Kad willed that they were to be brothers... Well, they would see.

@Howie Boy @Nefieslab

 

[Merek Vizsla]

Mandalorian celebrations were boisterous, violent, and remarkably dangerous, just like their hosts. So far, in the time since the party began, there had been three fights, a score of spilled mugs of beer, and what felt like a hundred individual challenges thrown around everyone present. After subjugating a planet and slaying several sorcerers, it was a good time to be a Mandalorian. The air was abuzz with energy, and it would only build on itself as the Mandalorians got more and more drunk. Strategy meeting or not, there was no stopping Mandalorians from celebrating a victory for their people.

Merek grinned toothily across to his opponent, letting out an arrogant bark of a laugh. One hand rested firmly on the edge of a large barrel of kri’gee for support and the other gripped a mug tight, waiting for the call to begin. He’d been challenged to drink and drink he shall. Competition in all forms was part of the Mandalorian way of life, and he’d never shy away from a challenge.

”Three… two… one… go!”

Merek dunked his mug into the barrel and lifted it to his lips, throwing his head back and beginning to chug. The bitter brew spilled down his beard as he finished the first mug and dunked back down for a second, then a third. It was a race of who could drink five mugs the fastest, and he was well in the lead. He owed it to an upbringing that venerated boisterous feasting and fighting, and being here among his new family kept him reconnected to that revered culture. The contest was over before his opponent had downed his fourth mug, the crowd giving raucous cheers and jeers to the victor and loser alike. Merek laughed and slapped backs, exchanging a mixture of praise and insults with those around him before something caught in his periphery cut short the festivity.

An outsider?

He set the mug aside, collected and donned his helmet, and stormed over to join the others in accosting the two newcomers, already reaching for his beskad. One of his kinsmen began some grand speech, but this was not the time for it, and he was largely ignored.

Like pack hunters smelling wounded prey, he swept to the other side of Bak-Ru, eyeing him up and down while Gett’se interrogated them. His free hand reached out to smack away the beer Bak-Ru held, his anger practically radiating from him. ”You did not earn that,” he spat out in their tongue, uncaring if whether the Weequay would even understand it.

”Why,” he rumbled out, beginning to slowly circle the two newcomers, ”Is an outsider wearing our skin?” He sniffed the air and grunted, pausing for a heartbeat in front of Arthos before resuming his pacing, beskad raised towards the Weequay. ”Who is this, boy?” he challenged, directing the question to Arthos, ”Will we mix his blood in our mead to honor the gods?”

He stopped his pacing and returned to Gett’se’s side, drawing close enough to the Weequay for it to smell the kri’gee soaking his beard. ”Which of my vod did you kill for that armor, aruetii?” he hissed out in Basic, his Weiklander accent thick as molasses and dripping with barely-contained rage.

@Nefieslab @Howie Boy @Sreeya @GABA @Arcangel @Fantasy Liver

 

[Arthos Vizsla]

Well at least he wasn't going to have to worry about his new vod having issues with spicy foods - that was half of what Mandalorians ate in Arthos' experience. Before they could get much further, Shale decided that she wanted her answers and she wanted them quick - she demanded to know why Bak-Ru was here. It was, by far, the question he had expected the most and although he had taught some Mando'a to Bak-Ru, it was doubtful that his charge would be able to understand everything that was being said.

Arthos took a deep breath. He would be the first to admit that he had folded under the weight of familial pressures in the past. That they had shouted and he had bowed his head and accepted what they would demand of him. But as he stood from the stool he'd taken, he placed a hand on Bak-Ru's shoulder both to warn him to remain seated and to show his solidarity with his new vod.

He stood and stared at the fellow Vizslas, let them get their words in before straightening his back. Despite not being the oldest or the most experienced, when Arthos refused to slouch he was able to tower over even Merek. Not to intimidate but to show he wasn't about to easily back down from this. To further this he did something he rarely did even amongst his Clan and removed his helmet, setting it down on the bar so his kin could see the resolve written into his face.

"Gai Bal Manda."

Adopting of someone into the Mandalorian culture, into their clan or family.

"Bak-Ru showed qualities of a Mandalorian warrior; honour, courage and skill. Misled and mismanaged by the Jetii and their allies - I offered him the choice to either die without a true warriors soul or the chance to earn one." he looked to Shale, "We are Mandalorian and we conquer our enemies utterly. They become us."

Slapping a hand to his chest, he addressed Gett'se and Merek.

"I will instruct him. In our tongue, in our gods, in our skin and in our ways. The Clan will test him and if he is found wanting he knows the price and so do I." he met the gaze of his vod beneath their helmets, "I will give him the chance that some of us were given; to prove that we could become Vod."

He wanted to do that with the support of his clan, with his Vod - his people. But he had seen in Bak-Ru enough of a spark that he knew he could mould him into a True Mandalorian given the time to do so.

"Let him, us, be tested and tested and tested again. But let us try. Either your anger is proven right and you can kill us both or we are stronger as a Clan because we were able to take an enemy and make him Vod."

@Howie Boy @Sreeya @GABA @Arcangel @Fantasy Liver @Painus

 

[Bak-Ru Shooska]

Any time for niceties quickly passed as their conversation of food was quickly cut short. Bak-Ru knew they were just filling the brief moments with idle chat anyways. Arthos had brought him here for a reason and as the Vizslas approach, it was time to get to the business at hand. Would he be given the chance to prove himself? Would they even let him live another moment wearing the skin of a Mandalorian? Bak-Ru would soon find out and although part of him feared what may come, a part of him was thrilled to find out. There was something about the gathering of warriors around him that helped further feed the flame that Arthos had ignited within him. Even if he were to perish this day, let him die a warriors death. Let him die with honor.

Bak-Ru would have been interested in the voice that spoke of elders and the future of Clan Vizsla if it had not been for the dark helmeted Mandalorian that quickly stood before him. Though he could not see their eyes, there was a presence behind that visor that commanded his attention. Arthos had begun to teach him the language of the Mandalorians, but as the words came quick and fast he would only be able to pick up on a few key phrases. The first being auretii...outsider. A term that Bak-Ru was accustomed to for most of his life. Long since cast away from his home world to find a place amongst the stars as a refugee it was more a feeling than a label. The young Weequay yearned for a since of purpose. For a people and a planet to call his own. He thought he had found it amongst the Rangers, but that organization proved to be just as feeble as all those that came before it. However, here before him stood a Mandalorian. A people, a culture that had lasted thousands of years. The fear for his own life was almost washed away by the awe they inspired.

The next to approach would wear a helmet of blue and black. Again the words would flow too quickly, but he would hear some. Outsider...enemy...soul...skin. Bak-Ru would shift slightly in his seat, feeling the armor move with him. With what he had learned of their culture so far he would begin to know the sanctity the armor held. Bak-Ru had yet to prove himself worthy of it, but he had taken Arthos' words to heart, let none take it from you. Since the days proceeding his capture and since he was granted his "skin" there was a feeling of adoration that had grown towards the armor. Slowly, it was becoming part of him.

These thoughts would quickly fade away as the beer was slapped out of his hands. This Mandalorian wore no helmet, but his gaze was all the proof Bak-Ru would need. The Weequay would hold his line of sight, refusing to look away. He would have even stood if it had not been for Arthos' hand to stay his actions. The only sign of defiance would be the sound of leather on leather as he squeezed his gloved hand into a fist. "I killed none of your brethren. Although I surely tried." Bak-Ru would quickly look to Arthos and then back to the man before him. As Arthos then began to speak on his behalf he would shift his gaze between all those that challenged him. His eyes would blaze with a warriors spirit, but also show a hint on wanting. Very slowly and heavily accented Bak-Ru would speak to them in Mando'a. "Let me...prove...or let me...die."

@Fantasy Liver @Sreeya @GABA @Arcangel @Painus @Nefieslab

 

[Kyp]

"Eh...kark this..." Kyp deflated as he saw that apart from a few curious glances, nobody was paying attention to him. Perhaps they would have if the arrival of an aruetii hadn't commanded the Clan's attention. Even Gett'se, who Kyp had fought with before on Mandalore, paid him no mind.

If that didn't describe the Lepi Mandalorian's experience with the clan, he didn't know what else would. Spending years sending money back, fighting with and against Force users, and summoning up the courage to call out the clan's leadership, and urge everyone to find the sacred ship of Pre Vizsla to restore some honor to the clan, only for absolutely no one here to pay attention to him.

Kyp actually felt for the lad - he knew firsthand what it was like to be an outsider and especially an outsider in this clan. His first instinct was to just leave this blasted rock and set off on his own, clan be damned. But he had wished that someone had stood up for him back in the day so he approached the Weequay and spoke up. Truthfully, he didn't really care all that much about tradition. He may love being a Mandalorian and Clan Vizsla but that didn't make Kyp particularly dogmatic.

"This is what I'm talking about! Our numbers are scattered enough for you all to turn away one willing to learn our way and join us?!? Well, you all can go to hell!" Kyp said as he positioned himself to stand in between Bak-Ru and the other Mandalorians as best he could, arms crossed defiantly. "I say let the guy prove himself"

@Sreeya @GABA @Arcangel @Painus @Nefieslab @Howie Boy

 

[Shale Vizsla]

Shale was silent as Arthos explained himself. For being barely past a teen, she was impressed with how he composed himself and relayed what happened. She drank in every word and then turned to regard the Weequay. Shale tilted her helmet as she regarded him, studying him for a long moment. The way the outsider carried himself and blatantly made it clear he attempted to kill them took guts. It took even more guts to address them in Mando’a. Shale didn’t respond, calmly staring at the Weequay. That was when Kyp interjected yet again, once more rambling without any semblance of a clue on how to read the room.

“One moment,” Shale said calmly to both Arthos and Bak-Ru. Without warning, she whirled in with her fist to clock Kyp directly in the face. It would be hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps if not floor him right away. If he picked a fight right then, she knew Merek and Gett’se would jump him. That she purposely threw a lighter punch before either of the other men could react gave Kyp the single chance to get off easy.

Shale turned back to look at Bak-Ru, “I support you getting the chance to prove yourself,” She said calmly, “But you do not wear our skin until you do,” She looked from him to Arthos, her gaze lingering on the latter. It was clear there was no room for negotiation there. Shale reached over and clapped a hand harshly on the weequay's shoulder, probably enough to make him buckle a little, "Let's see if you can drink like us, eh?"

If Kyp landed on the ground from her earlier hit, she would turn to hoist him back up to his feet. It was just how Mandos were...


@Nefieslab @Fantasy Liver @Arcangel @Painus

 

[Gett'se Vizsla]

Gett'se turned to watch Arthos as he rose to speak. He winced as he watched the man take off his helmet, a sense of disgust in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the man's face. He shook it off and tried to listen to the warriors words, tried to take him seriously but his face looked too much like a fresh faced aruetii youth. Barely a man and already trying to be a father. But he was right.

Gett'se watched the weequay's eyes. Saw the defiance there. The fire. A hint of yearning. The spark of a soul. His mando'a would need work though.

Shale spoke first, and Gett'se nodded in her direction. If Arthos wanted to adopt the man, it was his right to do so.

"Take it off." Gett'se snapped, half turning away before turning back to Bak-Ru and grabbing the blue and black helmet from him. He looked at it for a moment. A Vizsla buyce. The helmet of a Mandalorian warrior. He looked at Bak-Ru. A foundling of the clan, now that Arthos had claimed gai bal manda.

"Wear the helmet." He handed it back to Bak-Ru roughly. "If you are to become one of us, you should see the world through our eyes." If the man was to be one of them then he should at least wear their face. Besides, every foundling needed a helmet.

With that he turned around and put his back to Bak-Ru. Walking to the nearest keg, he filled a glass full before taking a long pull of the beer with his helmet straw. An aruetti drinking with them and the elders hiding away in their command tent. He shook his head as something struck him. Hadn't someone been yelling about their leaders? Something about an ancient ship. He had been so blinded by rage at the sight of Bak-Ru that he hadn't really been listening.

@Howie Boy @Nefieslab @Painus @Sreeya @Fantasy Liver

 

[Merek Vizsla]

Merek cast only a cursory glance towards Arthos as he straightened his posture and stood over them. For a boy, he showed resolve worthy of all Mandalorians, and Merek could respect one who didn’t falter, even when others of his clan had come to accost him. To do anything but meet their aggression and interrogation with steeled nerves was to dishonor both his name and the clan’s name. Bak-Ru maintained that same resolve, staring unflinchingly into the predatory gaze of his would-be kin.

Bak-Ru’s retort to his question made Merek grin mirthlessly. Something in the Weequay’s stare was hungry. Bak-Ru died on that battlefield; he died in the subjugation of Lothal, and as a wraith reborn he had been chosen to join the Mandalorians, just as Merek had been in his youth. There was no shame in this defeat, for it signaled entry into a new world, one filled with glory and conquest. If a man desired those things, then who were they to turn them aside?

Arthos’ words rang true, just as he knew they would. One was not always a Mandalorian; many of the clans were composed of adopted warriors, such was their way. That they survived no matter how many of them joined the Manda was the greatest strength of the Mandalorians. Like their beskad, a Mandalorian was forged in fire, and only in the crucible of combat could their worth be tested. That the sorcerous whelps of the Jedi drove one of their allies into the hands of worthier, more capable souls was their own undoing and served only to strengthen the cause of the Mandalorian war machine.

Shale and Gett’se spoke, and Merek did naught but stare, his smile long since faded. The foundling deserved a chance to prove himself. With the others having shared their piece, Merek sniffed once more and turned away, heading towards the kri’gee barrel. ”Let us see him survive a night of celebration, first!” he shouted out with a hearty laugh, setting his helmet aside and picking up his mug once more to dunk it in the barrel. ”And whatever the hell he was whinging on about,” he swept the mug towards Kyp, letting out another chuckle.

He then thrust the mug in Bak-Ru's direction, sloshing the bitter brew around. ”Come, boy,” he rumbled out, ”You can see the world through our eyes, but can you stand in it after drinking our ale?” Several of the clan members jeered and cheered, hoisting up their own drinks. He raised the mug to his lips, smile once again fading.

@Arcangel @Sreeya @Nefieslab @Howie Boy @Fantasy Liver

 

[Arthos Vizsla]

Arthos let out a breath.

Unlike every protagonist in every story ever written, he had been very aware that he had been holding it in preparation for the worst. That the worst didn't come was the best that he could hope for considering what he had learned being a part of the Clan Vizsla. He nodded to Kyp in acknowledgement and gratitude... though he didn't make a move to assist the vod when Shale swung at him. He'd stepped into the middle of a Mandalorian argument and he should know that meant he was lucky to keep his ears.

The results were... about what he expected, all told. He eyed Shale and Gett'se as they told Bak-Ru to take off his armour until he had earned it - though he would be expected to wear his helmet. There were tenants about never being forced to take your armour off but it was, again, more of a Children of the Watch tradition than one held by Clan Vizsla.

"Gar cuyir ner ad- surya buy'ce ti giaragr. Sartamura udes o'r ca'nara." he told Bak-Ru before translating some of it to Basic, "Your place is by my side. Wear the helmet and earn the rest with honour."

He cracked a grin that, due to his age, probably looked downright boyish before slapping Bak-Ru on the back and pushing him toward the keg alongside Merek and Shale. Gesturing to each of them, he introduced them to Bak-Ru.

"The terrifying woman is Shale, the intense man in the bucket is Gett'se, the drinker of a thousand tankards is Merek and this?" he reached down to help Kyp off the ground alongside Shale, patting him heartily on the back, "Is the insufferably energetic Kyp - what was that about the elders Kyp? Sounded fiery."

He... had a dimmer view of the elders since they had literally sent him to meet Raze like he was unworthy of anything but being a living sacrifice. But he adored his Clan when it was like this - when they could get angry, get over it and get drunk together in the space of moments. This? This was what Arthos wanted his new son to be a part of, a family in the Mando style because anything else was just far too dull and lifeless.

... a thought occurred to him.

"Shrak. I need that drink first - I'm a karking father."

@Arcangel @Sreeya @Howie Boy @Fantasy Liver @Painus @GABA

 

[Kyp]

"I already said that!" Kyp protested as he shook off the hands Shale and Arthos offered him to get up and stood on his own. The thick-skulled girl didn't seem to understand that Kyp had been advocating for the boy to prove himself too!

"Whinging?" Kyp asked incredulously at Merek. Could nobody truly see what he was talking about? A chancellor who did nothing these past few years while the clan rotted away? The thought of a sacred artifact of the clan being rediscovered? None of that resonated with any of them at all? Fine. He'd always been a lone wolf anyways.

"You know what, you all can go choke on a Hutt's tail! Enjoy the fat old di'kuts calling the shots! For anyone that doesn't want to do that, I'm going after the Gauntlet. Like a real Vizsla would!" Kyp shouted angrily as he stormed off. He'd find the ship and restore honor to this once-great clan and finally, one day, make his name mean something to House Vizsla.

@Arcangel @Sreeya @Howie Boy @Painus @GABA @Nefieslab

 

[Bak-Ru Shooska]

Bak-Ru's gaze would first shift to the Lepi Mando. A slight rise of his rigged brow would be the only sign shown of the surprise he felt at the other's words. He challenged his clans folk and demanded that Bak-Ru be allowed to prove himself. A notion the young Weequay appreciated deeply, but for now would only nod his head at the Lepi to show thanks. Perhaps this Mandalorian had a story similar to his own. A foundling that had once lived another life. A body that had once had a different soul.

If there was any moment of bonding between the Weequay and the Lepi it would quickly fade away as the dark helmeted Mando threw a quick straight right into his face. Bak-Ru would have to press his lips together to subdue the smile that threatened to creep its way across his lips. It wasn't a grin to make fun of the Lepi, but one that reveled in the action before him. Even though it was violent, he appreciated how they got right to business. No long and drawn out conversations. No useless arguments. Everything that needed to be said was quickly expressed through a punch, something that seemed commonplace amongst these warriors as there wasn't even a flinch between them. Whatever needed to be sorted between them seemed to be managed as the blows ended just as fast as they began, but their business with Bak-Ru was not.

Again, Bak-Ru would simply nod to show his appreciation for her support, but one thing was clear. They may grant him a chance to prove himself, but he would not wear the skin until he had done so. A notion that was quickly agreed with by the Mandalorian with the blue face plate. Bak-Ru would jump up from his seat, swatting Arthos' hand aside if need be. The other had snatched his helmet. The words of his adopter playing through his mind. Let none take it from you. However, this was no enemy that stood before him. This was his clansmen. A potential brother in arms. A true Mandalorian. Bak-Ru would submit and pull the helmet over his head before he began to unstrap the various pieces of armor that adorned his body. It felt almost like defeat, but he knew they would return to him. For every act of honor he would earn his true soul back and then none would take it from him while he still drew breath.

It seemed this would all be enough for the Vizsla clan folk as they withdrew their aggression. Arthos would confirm this as he translated for Bak-Ru and made the formal introductions. Shale would slug his shoulder with enough force that made him wish he still wore armor, but it still carried with it a sense of camaraderie. Gett'se and Merek join her in presenting Bak with his first test. The beginning steps he would have to take down the long path before him. The challenge? To drink like a true warrior! Arthos would shove him forward as the others beckoned him towards the keg. The foundling would accept his mug from Merek and raise it up with the other as shouts and cheers erupted around him. "To Clan Vizsla!" Bak shouted in accented Mando'a before pushing his helmet up and downing the hearty brew in one long pull.

@Fantasy Liver @Arcangel @Painus @Nefieslab @Sreeya