Youth isn't always a disadvantage

[Sierrien]

Astra crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall of the pit fighting ring; for once she wasn't a participant. Instead she was here just to watch and see if there was anyone worth actually speaking to about a possible future job. So far they hadn't actually set anything up, but she had spoken at something approaching 'length' with the twins about starting something. Something that would matter, and might actually stand a chance of making a difference in the Galaxy. Or, failing that, simply make all of them filthy rich. She was kind of alright with either outcome; both would of course be ideal. She smirked to herself at the thought as she heard the man announcing the next two fighters in the ring. Two names she had never heard before, so she just settled in to watch. This match was a quick one; the two had come in with training swords and made quick work of each other, both of them really getting in quite a few hits that would have probably been lethal had those been real swords. She briefly wondered why they weren't; these two must be friends or something.

It wasn't like they were exactly in a vetted establishment; in fact this was one of the few places in the galaxy where you could openly be seen as a Mandalorian and not get called in to the Imperium. Well, at least after you got past the outer defenses, and there was more than one way in - but it was something like a safe haven for everyone and everyone. The only code they seemed to have was 'don't sell anyone out' - because if you did, you could bet your ass the rest would be coming after your head. It was kind of refreshing to be able to openly speak Mando'a for once, though she still wasn't abusing it. Some habits it was best to stay out of, no matter how much it hurt. She looked up again as the two fighters finally left the ring, her hand shifting to wave a waitress over as she finally moved to a seat. "Something strong." she stated simply, as she waited for the next fighters to enter the ring.

Another two names she had never heard before were called out, though this one seemed to at least involve real weapons, even if they had been padded to not allow for kills. Actual death matches were rare these days, at least in a place like this. When it came down to a psuedo-family, it was often times hard to fight someone else to the death. She settled in to watch, curious if this match would have anyone worth talking to after.

 

[Noctyr]

Clad in a hooded cloak, Veran made his way to the gate of the arena. He needed the money to survive, but unfortunately, fighting was his sole skillset. Being a soldier, he was good at it. Functioning within Mandalorian society made that easy. In the outside world? One had little choice but to become a mercenary or bounty hunter. Hence, it was why he had made it here, to an underground arena.

“Hey shorty, you’re gonna have to shed the armor and weapons.”

“That’s not an option.”, Veran replied.

The man raised an eyebrow.

“You sound a little young to be in the area, kid. Better to lea-“

Veran tilted his head in the man's direction, revealing just enough for the man to see only the face of his helmet. That was enough to shut the man up on the spot. He knew what Veran was- the mere fact that the boy was wearing the armor was enough to convince him that it was okay to send him into the ring.

The cloak was still surrounding Veran as he entered the ring, making it difficult except for the keenest of observers to see the face of his mandalorian helmet. Any Mandalorians watching closely might’ve even seen and recognized the jaig eye markings on the helmet. On the opposite side, another cloaked figure approached, although it was clear that this person was at least two full heads taller than Veran himself. He was a zabrak male with broad shoulders and twin vibro blades; one at each hip.

“Pistols set to stun and padded melee weapons only. No killing. Keep it clean gentlemen.”

The zabrak smiled, tossing his cloak off to the side. A ring echoed throughout the arena, indicating the beginning of the match.

“Hah! I ask for a real fight and this runt is the only one you could find?!”

The zabrak grasped at the hilts of his weapons.

“This will be-“

Crak! Cra-crak! Cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-crak!

The first shot impacted the zabrak’s right knee, the next two hitting each of his hands and causing him to drop his vibro blades. Yet what was to follow, was perhaps the most brutal. Veran fired off a series of shots so fast that it almost sounded like a repeater pistol was being fired off, the stun plasma impacting the zabrak in the chest. Almost methodically, Veran ejected the spent thermal clip from his pistol, reloaded, and then re-holstered his pistol.

There was no contest. The zabrak had been shot so many times; he was hardly able to move. In fact, he was knocked out cold. The announcer was in shock, but quickly re-acclimated to the situation and spoke over the speakerphone.

“W-we have a winner!”

He pointed to Veran. “You sir! Who do we have the honor of addressing?”

Pulling down the hood of the cloak, Veran removed his helmet. What followed were gasps from the audience as it was revealed that the winner had been an Echani boy, no more than 14 years old. He had a blank stare, but if one looked closely, he looked almost worried. After the shock of the revelation subsided, some of the audience began to cheer. Promptly thereafter, Veran left the ring, collecting his earned credits on the way out. He made his way to a seat that wasn’t far from where Astra had placed herself and looked at her drink with curiosity. Adults were very strange to him: why did they enjoy such foul tasting beverages? Fruit smoothies tasted waaay better after all.

He set his helmet on the table next to him, then began flipping through shows available on the holonet. Interestingly enough, he settled on a cartoon with a peculiar dune rat and krayt dragon on Tatooine, all drawn in a comedic fashion. Not long after the episode began, a YT-1300 freighter crashed into the Krayt dragon during one of its attempts to catch the dune rat. Veran smiled and let out a melodic laugh. It wasn’t a very loud laugh, but some people gave him the odd smirk or look of confusion. But despite it all, compared to the blank stare he had earlier, it actually seemed like Veran was fascinated with the cartoon and enjoying himself.

 

[Sierrien]

Her eyes shifted over the two combatants, noting the differences in their heights first of all. The Zabrak was much taller, and seemingly a melee specialist as he had chosen to bring in two blades. He was also completely overconfident, to the point where the shorter one all but destroyed him with a simple quick draw. Her eyes took in the speed; seemed too fast to be a human. Then there was the fact that he emptied his pistol in to the Zabrak, hitting him enough times to knock him out cold before they stopped. She let out a soft chuckle as she watched him laying there for a few moments before returning her eyes to the short one.

Who appeared to be a child, as he had now taken off his helmet and shocked the crowd. Her own eyebrows raised slightly as her sharp eyes made note of how dull his seemed to be. He didn't look like he belonged in a dueling ring, she thought to herself. He made his way out and she let him pass from her thoughts as another pair of contestants were brought out. These two were both huge and it looked to be an endurance match; a long one to try and balance out how quickly that last one had been decided. People hadn't even had time to finish their bets before it was over.

Shortly thereafter, the youth who had just won so handily came to sit at a table near hers, and Astra's eyes were drawn towards him. She saw him eyeballing the drink she hadn't really touched yet, and then he turned on a holo and started to watch - well, something. Whatever it was seemed to be entertaining, at least. Her eyes shifted to his helmet, noting the marks upon it, and ten she shifted slowly to her feet. She picked up her small glass of alcohol as she moved over and simply joined the youth at his table, without even pausing to ask if she could sit. The glass was set down and then slid across the table with a carefully measured slide that lefty he liquid inside sloshing in the cup, without spilling, right in front if him.

"A drink to your victory." Her voice was soft and lyrical, speaking in Mando'a fluent enough to tell him she hadn't learned it recently. "What clan are you from, little warrior?" She was speaking Mando'a and had put the drink in front of him both as a bit of a test; she was curious to see how he would respond to them. Not everyone who seemed or even claimed to be a Mandalorian really was one; these were just subtle tests to see if he was what he seemed to be claiming to be.

Her eyes shifted to his boli then, initially curious as to what he was watching. The cartoon she saw made her eyebrows raise slightly and when she looked back at him, there was perhaps a bit of judgement in her eyes. He really was a youth, she surmised, despite his speed and seeming disregard not only for the pain he had caused but for shooting a man at all. Even though they had been stun bolts, she had seen no hesitation in his actions. She made a mental note to proceed with a bit of caution; she was plenty fast herself but not all Mandalorians were what most would term 'polite'.

 

[Noctyr]

Stab between the second and third rib, then twist. The negative pressure cavity surrounding their lungs will fill and they’ll suffocate on their own blood. No, too slow to take effect, and it had little effect on cyborgs and wasn’t guaranteed to work on non-humans. He could aim for the neck. Blunt force could crimp off a major artery, knocking them out or killing them. Or he could take the classic route of stabbing then twisting, but that’d be messy. So would drawing blasters.

When Astra slid the drink in front of him, his first thought was poison potential. The first thing to do in the absence of a proper poison testing kit was to rub said substance on the inside of his elbow and check for irritation. He wasn’t going to do that here though. He reserved that plan for the event where he had little choice in what he was allowed to eat or drink.

These were the types of contingency plans Veran went over in his head almost instinctually. Some would call that paranoia, but others would call it being prepared.

His eyes widened as he remembered that he forgot to shut off the cartoon while thinking on his options. Embarrassed, he quickly shut off the cartoon channel and put the holo projector away.

Stupid stupid stupid! How could I have let her seen that?!

“A drink to your victory.” She had spoken in Mando’a, and that was enough to make him wonder if she was from another clan that he might’ve fought during his time assisting Clan Orade. Needless to say, Clan Aryll had no true Mandalorian enemies, for they had been wiped out by the Sith in one fell swoop during the initial bombings on Mandalore. Clan holdings on Shogun and Vor’paya had similarly been hit. Veran truly believed he was the only one left. On the other hand, she was not wearing her beskar’gam. If she was indeed a Mandalorian, that fact alone raised questions.

Taking a deep breath, he eyed the drink, then looked at her......

And then at the drink......

And then at her again, as if to ask, “Do you really want me to drink that?”

"What clan are you from, little warrior?"

He responded in Mando’a, also clearly fluent and indicative of being native to the
Mandalore system.

“I am Veran of Clan Aryll….and you?”

It was possible she might’ve heard of his clan. Rumors had spread around during the Mandalorian Civil War that the clan had been wiped out in the Sith firebombings.

 

[Sierrien]

She listened to his clean response in Mando'a - certainly sounded to her like he was the real deal. And he had named a clan that twinged at her memories, but not directly. She wasn't sure; she must have just heard of it in passing, because it wasn't bringing up any distinct memories. It seemed more likely that she had simply heard of them, back before the firebombings. She watched him shut his holo off, perhaps seeing a twinge of embarassment in his eyes, and then he was staring back at her. Or at least he mostly was, though his eyes were also shifting towards the drink and then back to her rapidly. She heard the unspoken question hanging in the air, him wondering if she wanted him to drink it. Well she had just said that, hadn't she? Perhaps he thought it was poisoned, or simply didn't like to drink.

He had answered who he was at least, so the polite thing to do now would be for her to tell him who she was. She wasn't sure if she should, but she didn't really see any harm in it. It's not like he would leap across the table and attack her; at least she was mostly confident that wouldn't be happening here. Before she answered, though, she leaned forward and brought her hand out to reclaim the drink she had slid across the table, pulling it back and simply drinking it all in one quick gulp. Best to at least let him know she hadn't been trying to poison him, not to mention she wasn't keen on wasting a good drink. She'd be paying for it either way. She set the empty cup back down on the table face down before leaning slowly back in her chair.

"Astra, the last of clan Iviin." She would look to see if he recognized her clan as well, though it also wasn't too likely. They had been wiped out in the firebombings as well, and before that had not been one of the larger clans to begin with. "Everyone else died in the firebombings." She still didn't exactly have confirmation of that, but from everything she had heard she could basically count it as fact. "But it is not good to dwell on such things, I'm told." Her hand shifted then to indicate the ring he had just been fighting in, a clear shift in topic that was slipped right in to the slowly growing conversation. At least it was growing on her part; she would see just how talkative he was in a few moments.

"You're pretty quick. Makes these arena matches pretty easy to win. Wouldn't say it's a very good testament of your skills though.. would you?"

 

[Noctyr]

As Astra took the drink back and finished it in one gulp, Veran observed curiously. He just didn't get how adults loved alcoholic beverages. They tasted too bitter, he decided. But when she mentioned that she was the last of her clan, it brought back memories of what had happened to his. His demeanor turned cold for just a brief moment as she mentioned the firebombings. How he had little choice but to become embroiled into the civil war. How it had been the fault of the Mandalorian people in failing to unite under the Mandalore and destroy the Sith scum. Veran hated the Sith with a passion. They preyed upon others with manipulation rather than fighting honorably. The Sith enjoyed indiscriminate murder, while Clan Aryll had been dedicated to the ideals of the Supercommando Codex from long ago. They only chose contracts that were honorable in nature.

When she asked about his skills, his response was somewhat brief, with a twinge of melancholy. One might even notice a hint of anger at the mention of the Sith.

"I....do what I have to do. My clan....was wiped out during the Sith firebombings too.....but you're right."

He reached for his helmet, placing it over his head. Once it was on, the sound of the suit pressurizing and sealing with the helmet could be faintly heard.

Pssssh, click.

"Cin vhetin."

He was using a reference that only a Mandalorian would understand. A literal translation meant "White Snow", but to anyone well versed in Mandalorian culture, it was a saying that symbolized the concept that once one donned their beskar'gam for the first time, their past no longer mattered. It was a way of acknowledging the clean slate that every Mandalorian came with once they passed their Verd'goten. The fact that he said the phrase was a strong indication that Veren himself had only just recently completed the Verd'goten earning him recognition as a full adult in Mandalorian culture.

"My parents were strong warriors and taught me everything I know. I can only hope that I live up to their reputation."

He placed his forearms on the table and leaned in a bit.

"My sole goal is to destroy the Sith, ner vod....what is yours?"

 

[Sierrien]

He did what he had to do. She inclined her head in response to those words; she certainly knew how that went. An apogetic smile was sent his way when he mentioned that his clan had also been wiped out in the firebombings. "Those were dark times, I am told. Clan against clan, and then the Empire.." She trailed off and simply shook her head. There was no need to dwell on those memories, not now. Instead she fell silent and simply watched him.

He put his helmet back on and she wondered why he had, was he expecting to fight her? And then he spoke again, and she gave another nod. Fair enough; he was a man, then. She didn't need to treat him like a child. Even if she had just caught him watching cartoons. A bit of a smirk appeared on her lips at that thought, but she pushed it away.

"From what little I have seen, you do them proud." She watched him lean in then, and then state his goal was to destroy the Sith. Well, that was certainly setting the bar pretty high. Not to mention that it was not exactly something that the Mandalorians could accomplish anymore. They had been all but wiped out; it wasn't a fight they could win. Perhaps if they allied themselves with the right people, but even then they'd only be a very small cog in a very large war machine.

"My goal.. Well. I have a few. To live in a galaxy where the Sith no longer exist. To help our people thrive once again. And to make it so that the name of my clan will be remembered when I am gone, if only by a few." Her own goals were lofty as well, though she at least had a few thoughts on how to do some of them. "Some friends and I are putting together a group of.. Like minded individuals. The main goal is to make credits, honestly - but I intend to use my share to help our people. I could tell you more... If you're interrsted?" She leaned back, motioning towards the waitress to refill her drink as she stared across at him, curious if she had caught his interest at all. He had his helmet on, so she could no longer read his facial expressions at all, obviously.

 

[Noctyr]

From behind his helmet, he smiled at the flattery. The idea that he was making his parents proud was all that he could really ask for. They raised him as a warrior, and for him to be fulfilling that role in even the smallest capacity, let alone one of great merit was an honor in and of itself for the young Mandalorian. But it also reminded him of the great burden he held: to have the entirety of his clan's honor and very survival resting on his own shoulders. Astra very likely knew how this felt, considering that she was the last of Clan Iviin.

"I do my best to live up to their legend......what kind of work did you have in mind? If it means I get to strike back at the Sith, count me in. I planned on going to Naboo next anyway. Rumor has it, there's a conflict with the Imperials going on there right now..."

While Veran's goal was the destruction of the Sith, Veran had no idea how to cripple them best. He resorted to do what little he could to kill or destroy Imperial holdings, but knew that in the grand scheme of things, it would do little to change much of anything. What was required to change the galaxy was something like the death of the Empress herself of one of the many Darths in high positions under her command. Cut off the head, and the body died.

It was the lack of this very weakness that differentiated the Mandalorians from everyone else, and also the reason that Veran still held hope that the Sith could be defeated. The Mandalorians needed no leaders. The Mandalorians were not bound by blood, nor were they reliant on the sorcery that constituted the Force. They were fully self-sustaining, and their only downfall was their willingness to go to war against one another. The Mandalorians were an idea, and therefore could not be killed.

 

[Sierrien]

She had heard the rumors about the war going on all over Naboo as well, though as yet she hadn't actually confirmed there was anything going on there. Not that she was going to be running over there anyways. All the rumors were saying that it was pretty much an Empire-dominant bloodbath and that the rebels and what few Jedi were there were all but getting destroyed. Not really a good fight for a Mandalorian to be investing in; much too low chance of making a real impact, she believed. Not that the Mandalorians were really in a position to do any real damage to the Imperium right now. But with luck, that would be changing in the future, and she planned to be ready for it when it did.

"Most of the actual 'work' is in slicing and hacking and - well, all that technical stuff that involves stealing information and large amounts of credits. Personally, I'm going to be running the security division. As you can imagine, most people don't like having their things stolen. So if they manage to trace it back to us, someone who knows how to fight needs to be there to protect all the nerds." She grinned at him, likely letting him know that she didn't really think they were nerds or at least wasn't judging them for it. He might also pick up that they might as well be civilians when it came to a real fight, though, depending on how astute he was.

"So I've been looking for some others who fit the bill. The group is going to be 'Nuetral', supposedly to be able to take information from anyone and sell it to anyone else. That being said..." she trailed off, her eyes glancing to the Waitress as the woman appeared with a second glass of alcohol, taking away the empty as well. Once she had retreated Astra returned her eyes to Veran and continued talking as if she hadn't stopped. "We all have reason to hate the Sith. The other two, who are the ones actually creating it, and myself - the one they recruited to fill out their security ranks. All three of us hate the Sith for our own reasons, so while we will outwardly be neutral - it will not be that way in practice." It was a bit of a long-winded way to say 'screw the Sith', but she had to at least try to be diplomatic about it.

She leaned back in her chair again, lifting the glass and taking a small sip this time as she studied him over it. Then she set it down and gestured lightly with her hand. "So, any other questions?"

 

[Noctyr]

"Off the top of my head...no..."

Even if the group was a neutral party, he sorely needed the credits and protection. It sounded like this group could be really good at making people disappear from records, and given the large bounty on Mandalorians wanted dead, it'd keep him ahead of the Imperials.

"I'll join, but on one condition. I plan on heading to Naboo first. I...want to be at the heart of the fight. Please- go with me? I have a ship, the Alenora, docked at the nearby spaceport."

It was actually quite comical how he asked Astra to come with him. His tone was very typical of a kid asking an adult for permission to do something; as if Astra herself was his older sister or something. He may have been an adult by Mandalorian tradition, but he still had the mindset of a kid in many aspects. One of those aspects just so happened to be a tendency to look up to older Mandalorians. The aruetiise (outsiders), on the other hand, Veran could care less about.

Weapons and an mode of transport were not an issue. Inherited from his clan was a state of the art, modified Bes'uliik fighter/transport waiting at the spaceport nearby. The ship was armed to the teeth and served well as a combat vessel: the only real downside was the fact that it was very distinctly Mandalorian, and therefore relatively easy to identify by those with knowledge of MandalMotors designs. Sure, it could be the case that onlookers might dismiss the ship as one that was sold to a non-Mandalorian, just as many designs in the past had done, but the chances of that were slim, at least in regards to this particular ship. Regardless, it had gotten him this far, and it was a possession of his that he held very dearly. It was a mobile home of sorts, now that his actual home was gone.

His tone shifted back to a more mature note once he started discussing tactics.

"Before you go ahead and tell me it's suicide, I plan on doing some guerrilla style ambushes. A small element- a two-person sniper team, can move in, kill a few key Imperials, and then be out of there relatively quickly. We could have my ship on autopilot for close air support if necessary."

 

[Sierrien]

Well, that was good. He didn't have any questions; she didn't really have all the answers as they hadn't even officially gotten off the ground yet. It was like a thing of fate that he didn't want to ask more questions, and instead simply requested that she go with him to Naboo. She heard the tone and gave a slow blink towards him; it basically sounded like he was asking for her permission. And initially she was rather reluctant to give it. It would be basically suicide to go in there now, the reports she had heard had all said that it was basically an Imperial-dominated bloodbath. Flying in to that was likely not a good idea. In fact it sounded like a very bad one.

He went on to explain his plan, and it didn't sound like a bad one to her. Sniping out some important imperials and then bugging out before they could be closed in on and shot. The only issue was that she was pretty terrible with a sniper rifle. She could use this to see how good he was with one, though - assuming they managed to make it out alive somehow. She leaned back in her chair as she considered him for a few moments, before giving a slow nod. "Very well. We will go to Naboo and see if we can't help the rebellion. Every little bit helps. We're going to stay away from the bulk of the fighting, but I would like to see your skill as a sniper first-hand." She didn't need to say she was no good with a sniper rifle; he mightbe able to infer it from her tone, though.

She pulled a credit chit out and placed it on the table, more than enough on it to pay for the few drinks she had and to leave a generous tip as well. "We can also take your ship, as mine doesn't have an 'autopilot' mode capable of providing air support." It also wasn't currently operational, but again she didn't see the need to actually mention that. A smirk played across her lips as she slid her chair backwards and stood. She looked like she was ready to leave right there, without even going off for supplies or any other weapons. Perhaps she was also testing his resolve, to see if he actually would go through with this plan of his, or if he had just been trying to impress her with bravado that he had thought she would simply say no to. She had put the ball back in to his court, and now she would see if he actually wanted to play.

 

[Noctyr]

He smiled excitedly. She couldn't see his facial expression, of course, but the kid was giddy with anticipation. It kinda came through on his helmet mic.

"Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc!"

He had a penchant for using cliche Mandalorian phrases, mainly because his mother liked to use them all the time back when she was teaching him. This one meant "Better one big enemy that you can see rather than many small ones you can't." It was clear that he was referring to the situation on Naboo, using the common phrase almost as if to suggest that going headfirst into this daring mission against the Imperials was the Mandalorian thing to do. Of course that was silly, but he was a naive kid. He was fascinated by epic tales of bravery and glory in combat.

After all, he lived for the fight; trained for it all his life. His parents were traditional Mandalorians through and through, and whatever the hell they had taught Veran turned him into somewhat of a young soldier prodigy. He was pretty damn good at fighting for his age, and although he very well couldn't match Astra's speed or hand to hand skills, he was a whiz with blasters, near or far range, to the point that he resorted to integrating it into his hand to hand fighting skills to compensate for his own lack of strength when dealing with adults.

He stood up, pressing a few buttons on his wrist mounted datapad before a holo projection showed up indicating the location of his ship. He showed it to Astra.

"Let's go then!"

He actually thought Astra was pretty cool. Not only had she "given him permission" to go on his crazy little mission, but she was willing to go with him to combat! That was super cool! Although he didn't mention it just yet, he also had a lot of questions to ask: many of which he would reserve for the trip to Naboo. Harmlessly stupid things like "What's your favorite color?", or "Do you have a good uj'alayi recipe?", but some also more personal like "Where is your beskar'gam?" or "Where did you grow up?" He also, embarrassedly so, hoped she could teach him some basic social skills to keep in mind around non-Mandos. He didn't know for sure that she was good at it, persay, but judging by the way she handled herself so far, she seemed waaaaaay better than him at it by a long shot.

(Exiting thread!)

 

[Sierrien]

She let out a chuckle at his phrase and gave a nod; she supposed it was rather fitting. He seemed to be pretty excited that she had said yes; she smiled as he stood and brought up a holo that showed the way to his ship, as well as saying he was ready to go. Certainly excited. She stood herself and motioned for him to lead the way, again not seeming to need any other gear besides what she was currently wearing. Which might just tell him that she probably didn't actually own a beskar'gam, for whatever reason. Perhaps he would get curious enough to ask her about it at some point.

The truth behind it was either a boring story or a sad one, depending on how you looked at it. It had been destroyed in the battle that had nearly claimed her life; she could barely remember the details, but given the extent of the damage that had been done to her even with the armor on, it was the only thing that made sense. And then her clan had been wiped out before she could be woken up from the medically induced coma they had put her in while her body was repaired and altered as extensively as it was. It was boring in that she didn't remember any details; it was saddle her at least to know that her clan had been wiped out, reportedly by the Sith.

They made it to his ship without any issues and she went in to it without hesitation; they were Mandalorians, what was there to hesitate about when going in to battle? She would take a few moments to send off a pair of messages - one to Ral Aran, to let him know she was going to Naboo and wouldn't be available for a bit. The other to the Stargrave twins to let them know the same. Finally she settled in for the long ride, and she would be more than willing to answer his questions - as odd as some of them might be - though she would likely be returning them with questions of her own.