Forging an Identity

[Narir Solus]

The Republic and the Mandalorians were still in that odd position of feeling one another out, and it stretched from the lowest soldier to the Chancellor. The olive branches had been extended, and Narir had been one of those to draw the straw for diplomatic relations with the fledgling government. In his younger years he had acted as a representative of Clan Solus for bringing in new worlds, but his diplomatic days already felt like ages ago.

It seemed he was back at it again, though. He had only recently become the acting forgemaster for the Mandalorians after his younger years of studying under his mother, who had actively forged for much of the Clan. The position was one of great honor, and Narir recognized it as such. Handling beskar and crafting the second skin of his vode was no small responsibility.

With the Republic interested in reaching out to the Mandalorians, the warrior-culture gave a peace offering of their own in the way of instruction about the forging of armors. A Senator from the Republic by the name of Mida Zebb would be meeting Narir soon, and the war councilor walked out to the landing pad where his ship would be landing soon to greet him.

The truth was that Narir rarely had much interaction with people outside of his own culture, and he was quite dubious about most of them. Distrust was etched deeply into his psyche, but he tried to set that aside for the duration of this meeting. After all, as far as aruetiise went, the Republic seemed like it was better than most and certainly an improvement over the Empire. But open-mindedness wasn't his strong suit. @Ecclessey

 

[Mida Zebb]

Mida's shuttle was right on time. One of the perks of getting the position of Secretary of Defense was that he had the best pilots to fly him to and from his diplomatic destinations. Not only that, but his time on the shuttle was actually limited, for he had done most of the journey on board a corvette with fighter escort. His counterpart today would never had dreamed of such an escort, for unlike Mida the man he was about to meet was a warrior of great renown and no other than the infamous Narir Solus. He wouldn't need an escort to keep him safe.. he was the escort.

Just like when he had been send to meet with the Senator of Anaxes, Mida wouldn't be meeting with the Mandalorian alone. He brought a human general from Corellia who on his own planet had been an accomplished commander in CorSec and was promoted to the rank of general. Also, for some reason, Mida didn't feel comfortable bringing senior alien military officers to these meetings. He was too afraid that coming off as too alien would hinder diplomatic relations.

Descending down the modest ramp Mida quickly spotted the Mandalorian and doubted whether he should greet him friendly, or appear to be physically tougher than he actually was. He decided in that instant it would be neither, so he greeted him like a colleague. "War Councilor and forgemaster Narir of Clan Solus," he smiled diplomatically, conscious of the fact that the Mandalorian's titles were a mouthful indeed. "I am Mida Zebb, Secretary of Defense of the Republic-" a sudden warmth krept up to his throat as he became aware that his title was quite a mouthful, too. "-and accompanying me is General Silco of the Republic Army."

@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir was one of the old guard of Clan Solus, and he remembered the days when xenophobia was far more common. He had never been a major endorser, and the Clan had - thankfully - become much more progressive in the years since. Members like Sumas had proven their station within the Clan, and that time had been put in the past. If the Republic had looked into the history of the Clan - and he was sure they had - they would have nothing to be concerned about from the forgemaster. The Secretary of Defense was not human, but it didn't bother Narir.

What he was more reserved about was opening up the secrets of the forge to outsiders. It had been deeply ingrained in him that the forge bordered on being sacred, but Leandros had approved it and he did want to make a stronger alliance with the Republic.

The Secretary of Defense's greeting was polite and respectful and the war councilor nodded his head. Mr. Secretary. General. Welcome to Concord Dawn, he said. If there was supposed to be some additional greeting or formalities Narir wasn't picking up on it.

Please follow me, he said, waving them back toward the building to where they could talk indoors and in private. The Republic is interested in the forges, he said matter of factly. If they weren't, it wouldn't have been him here.

Former Imperial soldiers and planetary defense forces. No standard uniform or gear. Are you looking to create new armor sets? Differentiate yourselves from the former Empire and create unity? he asked, thinking about what differentiated Mandalorians and the significance of their armor to who they were.

 

[Mida Zebb]

The forgemaster didn't seem to enjoy smalltalk, which was good, because neither did Mida. "Unified armor sets, yes-" he said as he and the general followed Narir inside, "-but also for them to become a symbol just like your own." A Mandalorian was instantly recognizable and no one every doubted their skill in battle. Of a rebel or Imperial soldier you could expect them to miss one out of three bolts, but with a Mandalorian, just because you knew what kind of skill that armor represented, you knew he wouldn't miss.

Mida hoped that he could mold the Republic military into such a symbol that no one would dare attack it. At the same time, it fell on him to make sure that such a symbol would not give cause to frighten and oppress its own citizens. The Mandalorians had successfully managed to set themselves free from Imperial occupation and their territory was known to live free under the Way of the Mand'Alor. That was something Mida not only admired, but aspired to. "Many people in the new Republic still feel the effects of Imperial occupation. They are afraid of authority figures and refuse to participate in society. They are free to do so, but it is not ideal." Outreach was barely working. Aliens that lived on city-worlds in the Core were still living in the lowest levels and hid whenever a patrol or government representative passed. Mida had opened up the military to all species, yet the humans still outnumbered aliens twenty to one. He sincerely hoped that the Mandalorian forgemaster could give him new insight in how to tackle his foremost problem.

"Clan Solus stood up during the Imperial occupation and rallied your people," the Abednedo's admiration for this feat was noticable in his voice, "I heard the tales of Imperials fleeing battle after seeing just a glimpse of the badger sigil." Mida paused, not knowing that behind him the general nodded in shared appreciation of the Mandalorian's impressive feats, "You've created a kind of peace in which all species were allowed to thrive." And yet there were those that called them bloodthirsty and champions of the dark side for refusing to accept the status quo, now that it has swung in their favor. That part Mida didn't not plan to address today.

"I would like the Republic to have such a symbol."

@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

A symbol... interesting. The Mandalorian armor was intimidating because those who wore it were intimidating. War was a way of life for them, not just a profession. He would be interested to see if they rose to the same level of prowess. If he wasn't mistaken they were already working on joint training operations with the crusaders, so perhaps there was a chance yet.

Understandable, he said as the conversation turned to the former Empire. Narir understood and couldn't argue with the opinions of their former worlds. The Empire hadn't been gentle with its people, and while the Republic was certainly shaping up to be different, there were probably plenty of people that didn't care to learn the difference. While they wanted to be rid of the old symbolism of the Empire, old armor could come in useful, even if it couldn't all be used directly. It got his mind thinking.

They made it inside the building, and Narir scanned in to access the turbolift. The doors snapped open with a hiss and they began to descend downward as the Secretary finished talking about Clan Solus. Narir felt pride in what the man said, but those were also the days that it was easy to miss: when Dan and Raz had been alive and Dio had been active in the field. So much had changed, and sometimes it felt like so few of the original members were left.

He nodded as Mida said that he wanted a similar symbol for the Republic. They had a very real chance to improve the galaxy. It had always been Raz's vision, and it was in sight.

The Republic stands the greatest chance of bringing peace to the galaxy, he agreed. I think a lot of us hope you succeed, he said. Peace wasn't his forte, and he knew his place was hunting the remaining Sith and wiping them from the galaxy, but the rest of the galaxy wasn't like him.

And where do you see the Mandalorians in your galaxy? he asked. It probably wasn't the type of question Narir was supposed to ask in a diplomatic situation, but he was curious. Surely each and every politician had thought about the role that a massive, crusading army might have in the galaxy once the war was really over. @Ecclessey

 

[Mida Zebb]

In the turbolift Mida fell silent as he pondered the question, but not too long to give Narir the sense that he was finding a suitable politican's lie. "I will not lie to you, forgemaster-" he finally said, unaware that the general suddenly raised his eyebrows in fear of what the clueless politican was about to say, "Your people have a reputation of unremitting violence and that worries me," he knew that where the Galactic Alliance would topple a statue or disable a power grid, the Mandalorians destroyed entire city sectors of Coruscant went they bombed the Imperial Capital. Theirs isn't a people who believe in half measures. "If we are not bound to one another by friendship and non-aggression pacts I fear you will see no reason not to raid Republic worlds. If I understand your culture correctly, those friendships and pacts will have to be renewed with every Mand'Alor." Which depending on the strongest warrior among them meant it was either a ceremonial gesture, or a folly. If a Mand'Alor rallied the clans to raid the Republic they would follow, Mida figured, regardless of how close their personal bond with those worlds were.

It was impossible for Mida to read Narir's face and get a feeling of how the War Councilor was taking it, which further seemed to cause anxiety with the general, who on Mida's insistence carried no blaster and wore ceremonial garb. "So where do I see the Mandalorians in my galaxy? As good friends and partners of the Republic for as long as both exist. Yet I fear that eventually, years, decades or centuries from now, that friendship will erode."

@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir appreciated the Secretary's straightforward answer. Narir wasn't much of a politician himself, and he knew that the Mandalorians could present a very real threat to the Republic some day. He wanted to hear an honest assessment of the situation, and the Secretary had done that. It meant he wasn't just talking to a spineless politician, which meant he was someone the Mandalorian could respect.

The General was looking nervous in the background, and Narir found that a bit humorous.

I appreciate your honesty, he said. The turbolift doors snapped open and all three men were immediately hit with a wave of heat. It was heat from fires, furnaces, and liquid metal being cast into armor. Narir had become adjusted to the heat before, but it was likely to be stifling to the two Republic men at first.

Nothing about the future is a guarantee, he said. He wasn't eager for the day the Republic and the Mandalorians might be at war, but he didn't think it would be anytime soon.

So making this armor is almost like an insurance policy for the future? he asked. He didn't seem offended by the notion at least in his tone. It was pragmatic, and again something he could appreciate. It also wasn't guaranteed that such a war would ever happen.

These are the forges as they are currently operating, he said, walking past dozens of Mandalorian forgers as they hammered away at pieces of armor for new suits. The Mandalorian culture had been growing in adult recruits for years, and each one required a new suit of armor. It was almost night and day with the growing army.

He led the pair through the active machinery and the pounding of the metal before they finally arrived at a more isolated part of the forges where Narir could personally oversee the operations. The office was sparsely decorated, mostly with various hunting trophies from the Mandalorian's past. He took a seat and motioned to seats for the other two before producing a bottle of tihaar and a trio of glasses, which he offered to the ambassadors. Drinking probably wasn't part of their regular procedure on diplomatic missions, but the forgemaster had no such hesitations.

The symbolism of our armor is because it's who we are, he said. How many people had seen a Mandalorian without his or her armor? It was as much tied to them as their culture or their language. He doubted the Republic soldiers would be so dedicated to wearing their armor all their lives, but they had to start somewhere.

You can recycle the materials from the armor you already have, he said. You'll need a distinctive pattern to identify yourselves, he said, almost thoughtfully to himself. The T of the Mandalorian helmet was immediately recognizable no matter what other design people had.

But first, to a longstanding friendship, he said, raising his glass in the air. He was starting to like this Secretary of Defense. @Ecclessey

 

[Mida Zebb]

Mida was impressed by the forges and almost regretted that they walked straight through to the forgemaster's office. He had never been much of a fighter and while he championed policing and was appointed Secretary of Defense, he could count the times he fired a blaster and he remembered to never have even hit the target. That's why he dependent on advisers and the knowledge of the Mandalorian to create a military that could last beyond his lifetime. To Mida, that meant he had to work twice as hard as anyone else, because the senate moved too slow and the Republic desperately needed a united force to protect itself.

He knew that a distinctive pattern for the armor would be something the senate would have several voting sessions for, tasking Republic artists to design it and then vote depending on aesthetic or how much the artist, or the planet they hailed from, greased the palms of senators. Mida didn't want to think about that headache. His task was to get an armor design that could unify and protect the varied soldiers of the Republic.

Considering all those aspects as they walked, the aging Abednedo was pleasantly surprised when the Mandalorian produced a bottle of tihaar. "Unfortunately I am not a technical man and artistry skipped a generation-" he shrugged, but seemed oddly excited for the topic "-but my youngest daughter, Stella. She's only twenty but paints these terrific landscapes that I-" stopping abruptly when he noticed he was looking more like an overenthusiastic father than a cabinet member of one of the most powerful factions in the galaxy, Mida coughed once and directed his attention to the glass filled with tihaar.

Recovering from his distracting thought, Mida raised his glass in the air. "To longstanding friendships." and took a generous sip, paused, took a moment to watch the forges and then to observe the hunting trophies. He realized that he had lived a privileged life, since he had never seen the creatures that adorned the walls. Commenor had its troubles, but it had never been ravaged by war, never seen large scale destruction and gave its citizens the opportunity to grow and explore their own interests. His children were painters, lawyers, administrators and only one had chosen a profession where he had to carry a blaster. How different his life would've been if he had been born a Mandalorian. The difficulties he had to face and now having to outlive even your own planet. He sympathized with their convictions, but he wasn't there only to make a new friend.

"What I was trying to ask before, would you consider to allow the general to return with some of our armorers so they could learn from your people?"


@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir popped the seal on his helmet and lifted it just enough to take a sip of his drink. He'd grown very used to eating and drinking with very little of his face exposed. It had been a way of life for him since he was born. He enjoyed the fruity taste associated with the fiery burn as he took a long swig and then let his helmet fall back into place.

He listened as the Secretary spoke about his daughter. Family was something that Narir could appreciate, even if he had little comment to offer. He didn't have a wife or children of his own, but the Clan was his family. They were everything he had, and they always would be there. He knew how deeply that could run.

He took a deep breath and looked out to the forges.

I think that can be arranged, he said after a moment's thought and looked back at the General. He seemed a bit more hesitant to drink, but he did it anyway. Both the ambassadors seemed to have sent their attention toward the men and women pounding away outside the window.

Is there something you'd like to see now? he asked, motioning back out to where the work was going on. His mind began churning through some of the pieces he still needed to work on including a field marshal's replacement cuirass after the last was shattered in a detonation. It was a miracle he'd survived, and that was only because of his armor. Second skin. @Ecclessey

 

[Mida Zebb]

Mida followed Narir's motions and looked back to where the work was going on. Gently he put his glass down on the table and nodded, "I would be honored if I could witness the forging process first hand." He wasn't sure how it was done, after all. Did they just churn out entire armors, or was every part, even the smaller ones, hand-forged right here on Concord Dawn. How long did that take? How many forges would be needed if the Republic wanted to outfit their entire armed personnel in similar armors. These were crucial questions that, truth be told, had taken a backseat to establishing diplomatic ties to the Mandalorians.

There were rumors, ofcourse. Mida had himself warned the Senator of Anaxes about an impending Mandalorian attack and Republic Intelligence had reported several Mandalorian fleets setting out in the endless black, their destination unknown. If they were to eradicate the Jedi and the Sith as they were promising, if they were done scooping up the individually important planets like Anaxes, would Mida's fear be realized? Hopefully he could trust Narir to speak up against attacking the Republic. Hopefully Mida would have the Republic Military up and running fast enough. Hopefully the process of forging armor didn't take ages. Hopefully all his efforts weren't in vain.

Not letting anyone show his myriad of doubts and angst, Mida turned halfway towards the general and then looked at the Mandalorian forgemaster, "Perhaps a cuirass? It seems to a layman like myself the most important part of an armor. If that won't inconvenience you, ofcourse."


@Phoenix

 

[Narir Solus]

Narir nodded as Mida asked if he could watch the forges work firsthand, even mentioning a cuirass be made. Yes, I have a job that requires my attention anyway, he said, finishing off his tihaar and standing, heading for the door. He assumed the Republic representatives would follow as he made his way around the corner and into a more private room. Inside, forged in beskar, hung symbols from all the major Clans and Houses of Mandalore, even down to more obscure Clans. They adorned the entire room.

It was the the room where the forgemaster did his work. His own tools, furnace, and casts. One of the field marshals recently lost his cuirass, he said. With the durability of beskar that was saying something.

The forgemaster retrieved the appropriate quantity of beskar and placed it in the cast before heating it in the plasma furnace. The temperatures inside superheated the metal within seconds until it began to melt. It took only a few more seconds before he was able to pour it into the mould, liquid fire. The process continued as he scraped free the excess sediment and stamped into the armor two seals: the first of the field marshal's clan, and the second was his own mark. An inverted 7 of sabers sabaac card. It marked all the work that the forgemaster undertook personally.

As the metal began to cool, he set it down and made it more easily visible to the representatives. Symbolism and the material its forged from, he said. The Mandalorian armor meant what it did because of how firmly its people stood behind its principles, and the armor saved their lives because of what it was forged from: Mandalorian iron. It was what set the Mandalorians apart from everyone else, and it was why no one wanted to cross them. @Ecclessey