Keldabe

"That depends on your definition of slicer" Drall responded as he followed Bloodshot onto the ship. He finally let go of his weapons and walked confidently past the captain and Bloodshot. Heading into the cargo hold he looked around before finding the doctor. he then sat down on a crate and stared at him, his face hidden by the mask. "Will you be accompanying us planetside?

Drall laughed loudly his helmet making it sound robotic and eerie as it rung across the cargo hold. "I like you you've got a sense of humor. I think we'll get along and if you need something mowed down feel free to call me." Drall turned and walked to a corner of the cargo hold before sitting down and beginning to clean his rifle.

Fel slid into the small space, giving Bloodshot 'the ass' instead of 'the crotch' as he squeezed by. He rolled eyes, silently cursing the all-too-vocal program, and took his seat in the pilot's seat, firing up core systems.

I haven't even got the good sense to have a pithy comeback for you, Bloodshot. I've flown a lot of heaps in my day, and been a lot of places, but I've never been told just when to wipe my ass before. Better hope we don't run into any opposition on our route, or Bossy Bessy here will likely spit out a traffic ticket. I'm working on a solution.

Fel continued to flip switches, bringing the ship to life. He watched on a closed-circuit feed to see the load lifter moving across the landing pad, finished with the task at hand, and toggled two larger circuits to seal all external hatches.

The squishiest member of your team can set up his med-lab wherever he likes. Hold is yours to do with as you like. Cabin closest to the cockpit you'll find Melia. She's... looking out for me.

He took the twin control surfaces and powered up the repulsors, feeling the ship thrumm under him as he lifted off and immediately turned to angle for departure. They moved swiftly up through the meagre expanse of the city, which would be dwarfed soon enough by the megalopolis of Coruscant, and broke atmo a few short minutes later. Fel entered five different sets of coordinates, starting with the most out-there and least well-known way-points for travel to the core, and was rebuked at all but the last, most vanilla set of trade-routes. He cursed bitterly under his breath before locking in the nav coordinates and entering the first jump.

Home is where the heart is, they say.

For Darian, the idea that his home could be so many places seemed like a constant joke. He bled for every single person who called themselves Mando'ad, and his sweat poured into the cultivation and defense of their lifestyle. When they came to him in the wake of crusade and asked for help with rebuilding and fortifications of Keldabe, the Priest did not hesitate.

Kad had blessed him with many gifts. After destruction came rebirth, and with his knowledge Darian could carefully guide the younger generations in theirs. He swayed to and fro as he walked toward the Oyu'baat, reading over the original blueprints. "Su'cuy, Beviin," one man nodded and greeted him as he passed. Darian glanced up, his jade eyes alive with kindness. He offered a sincere smile.

"Su'cuy, Alister. Have you finished collecting the beskar we're going to need for this undertaking?"

The blonde man grinned broadly. "You're asking for a lot, you know. Until very recently, our supply has been woefully limited. Even with the new veins, it's going to be like pulling teeth to validate and order of this size." Darian nodded in absolute understanding. Even for a headquarters, such an astronomical amount of the most precious metal in the galaxy would be difficult to amass. "Still, to do this much work and not ask for a single credit- you're insane, old man."

Darian beamed. "Perhaps," he agreed, "perhaps. It looks like you still have a meager crew to work on the renovations."

"Unfortunately. Only me, you, and a girl who recently signed on. She has no training in construction, though. Just a pair of hands." Alister scratched his head and avoided eye contact, sure that Darian would chastise him for the indiscretion. Instead, he glanced over once he heard a quiet chuckle.

"She can learn, then. It will be good for her." Darian held the plans out and Alister took them, frowning as he did. "The original structure was sturdy, but we will need to do a few modifications if we're going to be using a denser metal. For one, it will be heavier on the roof, so we'll need to incorporate some central beams for load bearing."

"More beskar?" Alister asked glumly.

"I already factored that into the original amount," Darian replied. "All you have to do is get exactly what I asked for, and I can fabricate beams and wall segments as necessary. The duranium portions will fall to you, I regret, because I will be far too busy folding the Beskar."

"I think I can handle that," the younger man laughed. "And I should be able to hire on a few more hands, just for the menial tasks, and the labor portion."

They walked together for several yards and stopped, and Darian glanced over to the workstation. His lips set in a frown as he appraised the woman standing there awkwardly, aware that she was out of place. "The girl you mentioned?" he asked simply.

"Ah, yes. Miss Vee? Come, meet Darian." Alister gestured toward the Priest, who wore strange chains that formed a robe and had unkempt hair like some sort of beggar.

Her spirit drowns. Her fire smolders.

"Good evening, Vee. If I can be of service, you have only to ask." Darian rarely offered outright to minister to anyone, but he was immensely forthcoming with kindness. If his time and energy were spent making the life of a single Mandalorian better, it was a day well spent. This woman in particular spoke to him as one who needed such an investment.

Kylarn walked the slightly busy streets in the early hours of the morning. Business had changed, locals had changed, and everyone's face was unfamiliar. Time had come and passed without notice for most of the residents of Keldabe, Kylarn recalled walking these streets as the once famous man of his twenties. People passed by him now without notice, his armor was old and unfamiliar these days. Children scurried about pick-pocketing people to stay alive. What had happened here? Rampancy had fallen on this once glorious planet, the warrior people of Mandalore seemingly had gone primitive in time away. Where was Mand'alor? Who was Mand'alor? Ky needed to know, but he first would set to his own devices. Credits to be spent on upgrades. New armor, upgrades for his weapons. Perhaps even more drink.

Kylarn approached a weaponsmith's building, looking up at the neon sign that hadn't been lit in years he then looked down the street, both ways to see if any familiar faces were abound. None in sight, but this would not take long. Placing his fingers inside his chest plate he removed schematics and approached the door pushing it open slowly as he stepped inside.

A young man stood behind the counter and spoke to him as he removed his buy'ce, his green eyes met the young lad as he spoke quickly.

"I am looking for the armorsmith, I have schematics, credits are of no consequence." Kylarn placed his buy'ce on the counter, then unfolded the schematics for a new set of armor, detailed and very specific, placing them in front of the young man. Lifting an eyebrow he listened to the boy speak to his knowledge of the craft, and that he would be delayed with all of the current orders. Kylarn spit a response quickly."Yes because I can see there are so many protectors left in Keldabe for you to make armor and weapons for. I said credits were of no concern. Now, how quickly can it be done?" There was a pause, the young man looked to Kylarn clearly sizing him up and seeing the stillness of the old Mandalorian. He then retorted that it would be a few days if he worked on solely this new schematic. But that it would cost a large sum to have all of the pieces. Ky nodded and watched the young man take the schematics behind the counter, he then spoke to Ky from over his shoulder asking what color to paint the beskar'gam when it was finished. Kylarn thought for a moment and turned to face the doorway once more. "Green, with an orange and black buy'ce. Make sure the seals are tight and non breachable. I will be back in a few days." Kylarn tossed a credit chip that was well worth twice the value of the armor onto the counter and emerged to the streets once more. "Keep this quiet kid and you'll be famous eventually, if our people rise again you will have plenty of work to do."

In silence Kylarn walked the streets, free of his buy'ce as he scanned the people. His people. They would have many stories to tell he was certain, but they wouldn't speak them to a man who had left them. Something had to change for these folk, they needed a clear path. Hell, they needed a leader. Since it had been nearly a full day he landed there had been no response to the old clearance codes he had used. That meant they were either looking for him to take him captive, or they had no idea who he was. The latter would be preferred at this point in time, but he almost welcomed captivity if it meant that someone was leading the people of Mandalore. What would become of these people if they did not have proper guidance? There was a war brewing in the outer rim, the Jedi were clearly going to make a stance against The First Order at some point. Kylarn would be dead before he saw his people fall to another Empire. They would not be slaves, or warriors fighting only to keep their people alive and "protected" from such kinds. The thoughts brought hatred to his mind, fear was there but not so much that it shook him. Kylarn walked by the hangar in which his ship lay, the old YT-2550 sat locked away until he wanted to leave. He'd have to refuel, but that wasn't necessary now. Instead Kylarn set off toward the steps, the steps on which many years ago he was annointed Mand'alor of his people. Given to him by a brother who was long dead, undeserved he was in those times. Ill mature to the nature of the helm. There would be a new day coming even if it meant his death.

Hours passed as he wandered through the streets refusing to take speeder, he'd been off his feet for too long. Where were the leaders of their people? He'd find them or make them.

*After Telarial leaves the 'baat, she strolls casually through the market place. She meanders a bit and stops from vendor to vendor, politely declining business on some occasions while accepting on others. She purchases food for her future departure from Mandalore. She needed to be well stocked since there really was no knowing how long she would be away this time.

In addition to food she also sold and traded weapons she no longer needed. It was usually wise to have a little extra currency on hand.

Soon she leaves the marketplace and heads for the spaceport but decides her business is not yet finished. Telarial rents a speeder bike and races out into Keldabe open terrain.

*Telarial parked Faelan's speeder around the corner out of sight. She looked directly at Faelan and jabbed a finger at his chest.*

"Let me handle this! It's personal..."

*She turned to leave but paused halfway and then turned back around as an afterthought.*

"And please don't reveal yourself...I don't need this scumbag thinking that I can't take him on by myself. If he sees you, he'll brand me a child and my reputation is a steaming pile of poodoo."

*She turned her back on Faelan and walked confidently out onto the landing platform where her opponent was waiting for her...*