FACTION Serpentine Showdown | The Mandalorian Clans

Discussion in 'Open Roleplaying' started by Rynn Vizsla, Jul 31, 2021.

  1. Rynn Vizsla

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    The lingering tendrils of Night receded as the light of Dawn spilled across the horizon. Rolling hills of verdant foliage bathed in the iridescent hues of shimmering crimson and ochre. Life itself was roused from a restful slumber as warmth radiated from the orbiting Star's newly-revealed visage. Birds began to sing to one another, weaving sonorous tales of their enigmatic dreams. Beasts too stirred from the underbrush and the depths of their own minds - seeking to break their nightly fast with freshly caught prey. In many respects, it was a display of reinvigoration that played across the planet entire, in thousandfold scenes bearing striking similarities.

    However, what made this day different from those that came before was stirring's in the Forests near the walled settlement of Enceri. Whatever this disturbance was drove the denizens of the sprawling Forest from their homes in droves. Animals of all shapes and sizes raced past the walls of the ancient Mandalorian holdfast, leaving the people within dumbstruck. There were no signs that foretold of this maddened exodus, nor could divine the cause. Yet, in their passing, the rushing tide of fauna carried with them the malodorous stench of death and doom. It was apparent to those that remained that some dread portent lay beyond the thicket of Ironwood trees. This unknowable malaise seemingly invited the courageous and foolish in equal numbers; as the once valiant Warriors of Clan Skirata ventured beyond their walls searching for the truth.

    Their Quest, however, would be met with failure. As one Warrior after another succumbed to the mysterious evils that drove out the numerous herds. Thus, bereft of all but their most hardened Veterans, the Skirata Chieftain turned to the Journeyman Protectors for aid. They were the Heroes of the First Succession War, after all. It was by their blood, and the sacrifices made that the feud between Clans ended. They had proven themselves to be worthy successors to the Legacy and those that came before. Thus, there was no trepidation or shame in the Chieftain's voice when the transmission was made. His people were in danger, and these Warriors would doubtlessly aid them in their hour of need.

    They were the Protectors, after all.

    To that end, Rynn Vizsla, the Scion of Concordia, held the dubious honour of being one of the first Journeyman Protectors to arrive at the walled settlement. He knew that the Skirata were a proud and honourable people, that they would seek to repay this debt of kindness however they could sometime in the future. Thus, despite the altruistic intentions, there was more that lingered beneath the surface. It was clear that their Warriors had grown soft in their complacency. That they were naught but armoured milksops, resting on the laurels earned by their ancestors in battles long-since forgotten. They had lost sight of their storied heritage, and Rynn - alongside a handful of the chosen few - sought to illuminate them to their mistakes.

    With his rifle slung over a crested pauldron, the young Vizsla strode forth into the settlement's protective embrace. What Warriors remained within the towering walls eyed the Protector with vague interest and what seemed like a measure of wounded pride. They failed their Kin, Rynn mused; a sliver of shame speared through their hearts was more than justified. He paid little heed to their visor-shrouded gazes, as he wasn't here to garner their approval. No, he was here to earn their respect as a warrior… and perhaps subvert their complacent beliefs through his deeds. Mandalorians were strongest, after all, when forged and honed upon the ever-shifting landscape of the battlefield. The fact that these Warriors were overcome by whatever lurked beyond the Forest lent credence to the Protector's shrouded beliefs. The Skirata, like many Clans within Mandalorian society, had become weak.

    The thought of their diluted nature was enough to cause the young Vizsla's lips to curl into a serpentine sneer. The man hated what his people had become. They were conquerors that brought the Old Republic and the Galaxy thereafter to their knees. They even challenged the ethereal might of the Jedi Knights and were - for a time - considered worthy adversaries. Yet, look how far they had fallen. Fighting amongst themselves because a Viceroy, some bloated wretch who refused the mantle of Mand'alor, found himself taken out of the picture. So much unnecessary bloodshed transpired because none were capable, nor deemed worthy enough, to occupy the vacant throne.

    Such was the fate of the Scions of Mandalore. Doomed forever to fight amongst themselves or fall beneath another's blade. However, Rynn believed that it was possible to fight one's fate - to defy the stars and chart one's own course through the heavens. Alas, not everyone shared those beliefs. But, there would be a more appropriate time and place to pursue such errant musings. For now, the Protector had a duty to attend too. One that would help shape the outcome of recent events and bring a storied close to this dark chapter in Enceri's history. To that end, Rynn shook his mind free of the uncertainties of the future and strode forth towards the greatest of the Longhouses - bearing the sigils of Clan Skirata. It was there that the Protector's journey ended and where the armoured figure was coldly greeted by others of his kind.

    With little more than a word, they bade the newly-arrived Protector to pass through the threshold. Rynn nodded without hesitation and proceeded inside. As he passed through the receding portal, the young Vizsla was greeted by several armoured figures, who, in turn, ringed a thrumming hololithic table. A flickering image of Enceri manifested itself at the centre of the active table, bathing its surrounding in a subtle hue of pearlescent blue. There were flecks of red and motes of green that danced along with the pulsating display, each depicting a fraction of the greater whole.


    :: Ah, :: One of the figures began, tilting their helmet back as they acknowledged the Protector's arrival. :: The Journeymen are here. Welcome to Enceri, :: the figure continued. They stepped away from the photonic wash of the table and took several steps towards the young Vizsla. An arm was held wide whilst the other lingered on the stock of a slung rifle. To some, this gesture would be one of caution - that the figure was unsure of their guest's intent. It was something that Rynn had grown accustomed to over the years. Ever since the vaunted Siege of Mandalore many moons ago - Clan Vizsla has found itself viewed with suspicion. Many still believed that the sins of Pre and his kind were sown deep into the Clan.

    In a way, they were right.

    Nevertheless, Rynn met the gesture with his unwavering gaze. He even strode forth to clash vambraces with this figure, greeting them in the way warriors would.


    :: I am Halford, Alor'ad of Clan Skirata. I wanted to thank you and yours for coming swiftly to our aid. ::

    Rynn tilted his head to the side, conveying the hidden smile that lay beneath his domed helmet. :: It's my pleasure, Lord Halford. I take it your Father's headed to Keldabe, then? ::

    :: Aye, that he is, :: Halford said with a nod. :: He seeks to speak with the other Clans to request their aid in whatever capacity they can afford. As you've likely guessed, this problem has become mine to helm. ::

    While there was much insight to be gained through idle chatter, Rynn knew that his time would be better spent spearing to the heart of the matter. As the echo of his clashing vambrace filtered into the silence, the Protector shifted his gaze towards the War Table. :: Have you uncovered what threatens the settlement? ::

    Following the young Vizsla's gaze, Halford's armoured figure was suddenly leeched of all warmth. :: We have, :: He said, tersely. :: It seems that the local Rawl population has run amok, as something triggered their breeding season ahead of schedule. Whatever that something was, it also accelerated their growth cycles - making the blasted creatures half the size of Dragonsnakes… and more than a match for some of the Clan's fiercest warriors. ::

    Snakes, Rynn mused. Of all the things that would've laid these Warriors low, the young Vizsla never imagined it would've been oversized Snakes.

    :: If you think I am joking, we recovered several of our Warriors. Their breastplates were punctured by Rawl's fangs, and their veins were filled with coagulated blood. No doubt the work of their venom. ::

    :: Forgive me, :: Rynn intoned as he touched three fingers to his armoured breast. :: I never realized that Rawl could reach such heights, let alone prove a worthy adversary to our Kin. ::

    Halford chortled darkly. :: I suspect the hunts on Concordia are drab affairs, then. It is rare for a broodling to mature to such lengths, but when they're alone - they make easy prey for a small cohort of warriors. Sadly, we haven't been seeing them by themselves. They've been marking out their territory in ever-expanding numbers - collectively growing larger by the day. ::

    A moment of silence passed as Rynn's mind drew unto itself. There was much to consider. After that fleeting moment passed, the young Vizsla tore his eyes away from the table and turned to Halford's expectant gaze.

    :: I take it ousting them with heavy ordnance is out of the question. ::

    :: Correct. We don't know how far their burrows go, and the Forest has had a bit of a dry spell as of late. One spark, and we'd likely be gobbling down smoke with every breath. So, the old-fashioned way is our only resort. ::

    Rynn nodded. There was no easy path this time around. The entire Forest would have to be cleansed by blades and slugs. Blasters were too volatile with the parched underbrush. One errant bolt would set the whole Forest ablaze, something that would achieve their objective - but - cost them everything in return. Thus, did the young Vizsla find himself at somewhat of a disadvantage. Everything he was outfitted with was plasmatic-based. Even his blades held a filament that'd spit a hellish fire when triggered. They, too, would be useless in the face of this ever-growing thicket of tinder.

    :: Very well, :: the Mandalorian intoned. :: As I am ill-equipped to face down this threat, I shall call upon my kinsmen and trusted allies to assist. Mayhaps one of their number may be willing to spare a slugthrower... or two. ::

    And thus, without a moment's delay did the Journeyman Protector harken his allies unto him. With their combined might, there was a chance that they could succeed where the Warriors of Clan Skirata had failed so miserably. However, such an outcome was not a certainty. For who knew what other than the infestation of serpentine Rawl lingered beyond the shadowy thicket's edge? Could there be an even greater darkness lurking just out of sight? Truly, such an answer was known only to the arcane energies that penetrated all and bound the Universe together. Perhaps, through time and tribulation, such knowledge would benefit those seeking a righteous resolution.

    | @The Mandalorian Clans |​
     
    Milla Kryst and Bri-Katan Kryze like this.
  2. Milla Kryst

    Milla Kryst Might Just Change Your Life
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    Rynn Vizsla.... It had been many, many months since Milla last heard his voice, let alone his face. Some things you just really can't tell about a man, can you? It felt like it had almost been a year without contact, but while she was unsure, she was willing to bet money it just hadn't been that long. Could it...? Her many escapades never stopped after she stopped being 'Scar Berenk', though.... it probably got worse after she wore her new name, the name gifted to her from the great man himself. She truly revered him, though never knowing him personally, not even seeing his face. They rarely spoke.... it was like, he was a caretaker. Though, one who assigned others to raise her, while he paid the bill. It didn't matter if it was his hand personally that guided her, or just made the path for her to follow. Without him, there would be no Milla Kryst.

    Her investigation took her to Manda'yaim, her new mother planet. While she could not call this place truly home, she did see it as a place she could always go back to. For Rynn gave her the freedom, and the culture, of the mothers world, and she wanted nothing more than to treat her with the respect she deserved, as she felt for herself. In searching for her old Founder - oh, yes, sponsor, if she recalled correctly he didn't like that nickname. Remembering that sometimes made her smirk - she had no true way of contacting him. It was a sort of 'I'll contact you' thing, which really sucked should she ever need him. But she understood. He was an important man with a lot on his plate, and she respected that. Her intent for seeking him out would most likely end fruitless, but she felt giving up before trying would be an insult to his name.

    As she did her best to ask around for him, everyone either avoided the name or knew nothing, which was typical. She hoped at least her searching lead her to the right planet, since having to travel once more half way across the galaxy would more than likely make her miss him again. And after she stole an entire starbase, and robbed some jedi archives for Mandalorian artefacts necessary for her plans didn't exactly make her loved by the galaxy. She did not want to increase her odds of being chased.... or captured. Luckily enough, these were not considered crimes among other Mandalorians.

    Though it was just by that sheer luck that she would get a communiqué on her display pad. Rynn Vizsla, himself, was rallying for his allies. Never since that fateful day had he contacted her, and while this wasn't personal, it had taken her aback. She was embarrassed, but she would never show this. He was nearby, in a town just nearly out of reach, but close enough for her to get there on her own. She wasted no time sending a signal to Rynn and letting him know she would be arriving, very soon. Although it wasn't a very descriptive dadita, very short and to the point, merely greeting and saying she was nearby. But it also, perhaps, suggested he not leave.

    Upon arrival to the coordinates from Rynn, she saw a Longhouse and approached it. She was riding a Maru, along with two other escorts also riding their own. They were Mandalorians clad in armor, as was she, full besbe. They stopped just a minute short of the entrance, being slow and cautious, showing she was no threat. Seeing the aliik, she was wondering what Rynn's purpose may be to be here. However, that was less important than the task at hand. She eased the two escorts to stay behind as she approached the longhouse. Afraid she may not be permitted inside, she greeted the guards and spoke in a somewhat loud voice. Not loud enough to cause a disturbance, only enough to be heard within the longhouse. "Founder Rynn Vizsla, Su cuy'gar! I have come answering your call, please, give me a moment of your time!"

    She certainly had weapons on her; it looked like a custom disruptor was slung on her back, but there was an old longrifle also on the opposite shoulder. Two pistols that either looked like blasters or slugthrowers were holstered on each hip. But as well, she also had her full, Personal Beskar'gam.

    When she would first see him, she would take her fist and hit the breastplate of her armor in respect, and after a moment, she would give a full salute; flat hand outstretched above her eyebrow. "Alor'ad, gedet'ye dinuir din'kartay. Me'bana?"