Mandalore's Open Terrain

A'den stood after the cat was off of him. He brushed himself off.

Vor entye. That cat was heavy.

A'den took position behind Ka'ra, rifle almost instinctively at low ready, scanning the area around him.

*Ka'ra only glanced to the side when the Gungan spoke, as though she could see behind her. He was far older than her, and most definitely far more experienced, but in her short life so far, so much had happened, so much had been taken from her, that she no longer wished to be unprepared. Did he take her literally? Or was he teasing her? Regardless, she replied,* "Never take anything for granted." *She had meant as far as traps or ambushes... but also much more.

Her HUD then alerted her to an incoming transmission from home, one of her advisors and an old friend, Gotabor. She muted her helmet speakers and accepted the transmission.* "Su'cuy."

"Forgive my impatience, aliit'alor," *a gruff-yet-jovial voice responded,* "but I thought I'd ask how you were doing."

"Ka'ra," *she corrected, for once feeling at ease since setting foot on this world.* "I'm actually glad to here your voice, vod, but things are fine. Met a young vod, who'd lost his way, and united him with a new buir. Currently leading him through a hunt." *Said hunt she had not diverted her attention from even as she talked to her old friend.

Said old fried, however, seemed surprised.* "Eh? You're not meeting with the aliite?"

*A scowl crossed her features.* "What?"

*There was a brief pause.* "Word reached your office. Seems the Mando'ade have sniffed out war on the horizon and sent representatives to negotiate terms with the Jedi and the Imperials, then pick who they'd pledge allegiance to."

*Of course... That transmission from Muunilinst, of the so-called "Knight of Ren" and the execution of the Banking Clan's chairman. And Ka'ra herself hadn't thought of the possibility of widespread war on the horizon? Foolish, foolish girl. What annoyed her even more, made her grit her teeth...* "No one told me, nu."

"Right... Probably my fault..." *Gotabor sounded sheepish, but continued,* "Anyway, look for them when you have the chance. Sending you a list of those to be on the lookout for."

"Don't blame yourself, vod, and vor'e."

"Ret'urcye mhi, Ka'ra."

"Ret'urcye mhi."

*A meeting of the clans... and Ka'ra was not present. This would not do. She had agreed to help A'den up to this point, yes, but a war? And the Mando'ade were in talks to aid one side or the other? Were they mad? Had they forgotten the losses from the previous war, when their reckless Mand'alor had led them into a foolish campaign that left them in shambles? She had to find them. Had to find out what they knew and what they were planning. She couldn't be here any longer.

She stopped, turning to her comrades and enabling her speakers once more.* "N'eparavu takisit, vode, but something important's just been brought to my attention. Ret'urcye mhi, vode."

*And with that, she strolled quickly away from the pair, to the exit of the reserve, duty in her strides. It was time to actually do something with her title...*

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum buir. Anade meg kyrayc gar...an jorso'ran ner aaray. Ner gra'tua...ner tor. Haat, ijaa, haa'it. Mando'ad draar digu. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum buir."

(Translation: I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Everyone who killed you...all shall bear my pain. My vengeance...my justice. Truth, honor, vision (swore an oath). A mandalorian never forgets. I love you mother, father.)

Faelan's sons, not highly placed enough to warrant marked graves, and so share a mass grave with others of their comrades that fell with them in the Crusade against Force users that cost so many lives. Faelan likes to believe that he has made his peace with the deaths of Séaghdha and Cathal, but still occasionally, like he does now, finds himself visiting the mass grave, all but indistinguishable from those around it.

Tipping the nearly empty bottle of Tihaar to spill some of the contents onto the dirt over the mass grave, Faelan says softly in a tone equal parts bitter and wistful, "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." The words, familiar to any that have been taught the daily remembrance of those passed on, offering Faelan little as little salve for the hollowness the loss of his sons has left him with; the hope that time or his beliefs would heal the wound something he has left far behind him. Lifting the bottle to his lips in an angry motion, Faelan finishes the last of the Tihaar and, barking a harsh laugh that is part strangled, mournful cry, at himself for allowing his grief to drive him here to contemplate a pile of dirt, turns to stride away from it. There is nothing left of his sons here, Faelan, a dark haired human of fifty two with a wiry runner's build and shoulder length reddish brown hair, tells himself as he makes his way to his speeder while willing himself to focus on what can be done in the here and now instead of on what cannot be undone.

Faelan stops, head cocked to the side when he hears the faint yet unmistakable crackling of underbrush nearby, his hand automatically resting on the handle of the blaster holstered on his right thigh. Shaking his head slightly to push aside any lingering effects of the Tihaar, Faelan listens intently for any other sounds; the silence that has continued after the snapping of the branch suggesting that what - or who - ever was responsible for the noise has become still in hopes of avoiding detection. Faelan has little fear that his is in danger; being on Manda'yaim a form of security in and of itself in most instances, but he is cautious by nature and so remains ready to act should the need arise.

Not turning, and feeling mildly foolish as he may be addressing nothing more threatening than a simple animal that was passing through, Faelan calls out in Mando'a, "Tion'cuy?" *




* Who's that?/ Who goes there?

Turning when the woman reveals herself and apologizes, Faelan refrains from revealing his amusement at the raised hands, his angular, patrician face retaining a somber and somewhat stern expression matching the intensity oft seen in his blue eyes. Gesturing at the mass graves surrounding them, Faelan ventures a guess, speaking in Mando'a, "You have affairs here too I imagine."

As he speaks, Faelan surreptitiously examines the woman's beskar'gam - blue like Faelan's brother Lorcan wears, symbolizing reliability - for any other personal touches or markings that might tell more about her. Removing his hand from the grip of his blaster pointedly, his posture becoming markedly more relaxed, Faelan motions downward with his hand, telling the woman, "Lower your hands, vod," allowing the faintest of smiles to briefly appear in order to signal he bears her no ill will for what appears to have been an unintentional intrusion, and his tone warm enough that the woman can take his words as an invitation to converse further if she so wishes.

Faelan nods with a grunt when the woman essentially confirms that she, too, is here in this place to remember her dead. "I hope you experienced aay'han then," Faelan says, his tone mild even though the bitterness he feels for not having had such a perfect moment of bittersweet mourning and joy himself tonight despite his efforts to both remember and celebrate his sons is evident to a discerning listener.

Faelan, misreading the woman's shifting of posture as something he may have caused due to his demeanor, winces inwardly when she removes her buy'ce and he sees how young she is, and notes what seems to him to be something in her eyes hinting at a surprising degree of hauntedness for one so young; though he is quick to correct himself, the universe of late has been cruel to young and old alike. Wanting to set the young woman at ease, and to make it evident he has no wish to detain her if she has taken his gruff greeting as a sign she has interrupted his remembrance, Faelan says to make it clear he too does not want to intrude if she prefers to remember her dead in solitude and has been waiting for him to depart, "Don't let me keep you from your business, vod, I was just leaving . . ."