Ask Myths and Legends

[Song Wren]

Nevarro was among the last places Song would have liked to be. Covered in lava fields and stretches of black, molten rock, it was hard to say what there was to admire about it, especially with raptor-like creatures lurking in the night. But there were many stories of this derelict world, of old legends and myths, Rangers and Mandalorians alike. Just as she walked the ground, Song could almost feel it in the air—and it wasn’t the taste of sulfuric ash, but something else. Something more.

The spirit of Mandalore was here.

At least, it had been, once upon a time. More than a century ago, after the Great Purge, a tribe of religious nomads had carved out a home on this blasted rock, only for an Imperial remnant to drive them out, killing many in the process. But Song wasn’t here to pay her respects to the lives lost. She’d come because, supposedly, an armory had been left intact alongside a comfortable stash of beskar. Clan Wren needed that cache desperately, and she intended to find it.

Only problem was, a pirate warlord had taken control of the settlement where the armory was said to be located. Reprogrammed, armored battle droids patrolled the city blocks, keeping the outpost under lock and key. Song had been trying to maneuver through the perimeter, between back alleys and abandoned homes, struggling to avoid them. She had to find this supposed armory, wherever it was, before the droids and their master found her first.

“Why does this always happen to me?” she sighed. Of course, just as the words left her mouth, Song turned the corner and slammed directly into a hard, unfamiliar body of metal.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

This place was cursed.

She had spent the last few days skulking along the outer perimeter carefully. Though this was once a place of culture for her people, like Mandalore, like Concordia, it was a desecrated place. Though a warrior's place once lived here, greedy individuals squatted on its' wealth like toads and ruined its' place in her heart.

She had been careful to avoid the shadows that moved on grimy, cluttered walls, the many droid eyes that patrolled the open streets. Whatever semblance of ordinary life had long disappeared, filled with ghosts and metal. She had been about to turn a corner after checking when--

Mysha grunted at the force of the body impacting hers, staggering a step back and stumbling into a crate. The crate, in turn, clattered to the ground, and she hissed in a breath, gaze darting around for any of their sentinel companions.

Without waiting to see if they truly had company coming, she grasped the other Mandalorian by the shouder. Not a ghost, thankfully, but she couldn't wait to rejoice.

<<Don't struggle and be still,>> she whispered in Mando'a, then wrapped her arms around the woman in a bear hug, throwing the scatterweave cloak of her armor around the both of them and pressing into the wall. She could hear footsteps approach, the thin, nasal tones of B-1 battle droids cutting through.

Did you hear that?

Must have been some womp rats. Disgusting sewers.

The sudden impact of a blast bolt right next to her head almost made her flinch, but she held her breath instead.

We can investigate later. Come on.

She waited until the tread of their feet vanished down another street, and no more came to look in, before releasing the woman, a hand on her shoulder.

<<You alright?>>

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

For a split second, Song thought she’d crashed into a super battle droid and instantly reached for the sword on her back, ready to mince and dice it apart like a slab of meat. Instead, she realized she was eye to eye with a Mandalorian, fully armored and stacked with weapons, including a vibrohammer. Song wasn’t sure whether to break out into relieved laughter, or still reach for her sword. Her experience with other Mandalorians had been so far pleasant—with the exception of Valeska Kryze—but she knew not all her people were so welcoming.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about her visor getting smashed through. The stranger grabbed her into a hug and, using an armorweave cloak, disguised the two of them from an approaching droid patrol. She held her breath for a long minute. They were unbelievably close, pressed against each other like magnets, and Song couldn’t help but feel the heat in her cheeks rise. Mostly by how awkwardly positioned she was.

Once the patrol continued their route, unaware of her presence, she let out a short sigh of relief. “I’m good,” she said, nodding at the Mandalorian, studying her a little more closely now that she’d pulled back her cloak. “Vor’e, vod.” Thank you, sister. It had been quite some time since she last uttered anything in Mando’a, but the language was clean on her tongue and she spoke it like an alor. It was a show of her deep gratitude.

“I didn’t realize there was a Mandalorian living out here,” she said in Basic, if only to see if the woman could speak it in turn. “Or have you come to tour the sights as well?”

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

The moment there was some reprieve, she glanced back at the woman, and gave a brief nod. At her using almost exclusively Basic, however, she grimaced beneath her helmet, nodding once to the woman's question. True, she was just as on edge about this stranger as the stranger was perhaps of her; anyone skulking about in this hellhole likely had an agenda, and it wasn't to take in the sights.

"Something like that," came her clipped, brusque response. "I'm here to collect something of value. How about you, vod?" She scanned left to right, scowling at the abrupt silence.

"Love to stay and chat, but that patrol will come back soon." Ducking, she turned down another narrow alleyway, either permitting the other woman to follow, or to go her own way. In either case, she was on a mission.

Looking for something prized; a family heirloom... or perhaps, the fabled beskar below?

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

She sensed the other Mandalorian was not the welcoming type, what with her clipped Basic and her desire to vanish down the nearest alley, but Song didn’t mind the cold shoulder. She had fought alongside men like Nox and Cyrus, and neither of them were known to be particularly friendly. That was just how things were. Since the Great Purge, the clans had always kept a distance from each other, suspicious of strangers, and followed the Way with almost fanatical devotion.

Plus, she and the Mandalorian were literally in the middle of a hostile settlement. Behind enemy lines, there was no time to waste for idle chatter. Another patrol could stumble upon them at any moment, and if Song expected to discover this lost stockpile of beskar, she needed to move.

Instead of splitting away, she followed the mysterious woman and, in a low whisper, said from over her shoulder, “My name is Song, of Clan Wren. I’ve come to Nevarro searching for the hideout of an old tribe that had lived here more than a century ago. I believe there’s something there that might be able to help my clan.” A half-truth. She didn’t quite trust the Mandalorian enough to say she was after beskar. Then again, she had an odd feeling they were after the same thing, too.

If that was the case, Song wouldn’t hesitate to engage in a duel for the prize. She might need the woman's help in battling the local warlord and his droid army, but the Wren had fought alone before, and against much worse odds.

“Slow down, vod,” said Song, noting how quickly the Mandalorian was moving through the maze of alleys. She'd long since lost track of where they were. “What clan are you from?”

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Wren. House Wren. Was that one of the Clans that attended the moot Kotii mentioned? The woman persisted on following her; hearing her demand to slow down, Mysha held back a quiet sigh, and slowed down for the smaller woman to keep up. Perhaps two would be better than one, but would the Wren be willing to part with some of the bounty they could possibly find? It was likely... though then again, Mysha had had her experience with backstabbers before.

"I, too, am seeking something in this place to help my clan," she replied quietly, crouching low to peek around another alleyway, just in case. She had taken her time, timing the measurement of the guard, its' patterns. Thankfully, droids were very predictable in their security detail.

"I am Mysha. Clan Kelborn," came the low response, continuing to move further in. "I need materials. History. Things to benefit others of our own kind." Her words were clipped, with a gravity that spanned beyond her years. Her father's task weighed heavily on her mind; heavier now, with the possible threat of discovery and death.

A sound further ahead alerted her, and she raised her hand to stop the woman, cocking her head.

Feet. Marching feet. Uttering out a soft curse, she looked around for a possible exit. She spotted one... but it could turn bad.

"Do you mind tight spaces?"

Without waiting for an answer, she ducked in, beginning to halfway crouch, halfway crawl through the small dugway that perhaps once sluiced liquids... or waste. Not that it mattered now, the tunnel was completely dry. They'd have to move quickly to avoid detection.

@Feng Mian